5^EDIA BRITANNIC A.
EIGHTH EDITION.
I
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
EIGHTH EDITION.
• •*>*
■•••: r/f..:
■
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA,
OR
DICTIONAEY
ARTS. SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
EIGHTH EDITION.
WITH EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME XX.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH.
MDCCCLX.
[The Proprietors of this Work give notice that they reserve the right of translating it.]
EDINBURGH : FEINTED BY NEILL AND CO,
ENCYCLOPEDIA
BRITANNICA
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- The present article will be found to embrace a threefold
ship. division of the subject of seamanship. The reader will find,
in the first portion, those general principles which are ap¬
plicable alike to all cases, and suited to all times of the
past and present state of naval affairs. The second portion
will be closely connected with this, and will, in fact, consist
of a description of some manoeuvres, of which the object is
to illustrate and further explain the theory previously laid
down. Whilst the third portion will bring up the know¬
ledge of the subject in its improved condition, and deal with
all those questions which the invention of chain cables,
steam, as applied to marine engines, the new system of
signals, and other discoveries have introduced into nautical
affairs during the last fifty years; avoiding minute details,
when they are given under the separate heads in other parts
of this work. We commence, therefore, with the great
facts and principles of seamanship, in its most general bear-
Definition. ]ng ancj aspect. By this word we express that noble art,
or, more properly, the qualifications which enable a man to
exercise the noble art of rigging and working a ship. A
seaman, in the language of the profession, is not merely a
mariner or labourer on board a ship, but a man who under¬
stands the structure of this wonderful machine, and every
subordinate part of its mechanism, so as to enable him to
employ it to the best advantage for pushing her forward in
a particular direction, and for avoiding the numberless dan¬
gers to which she is exposed by the violence of the winds
and waves. He also knows what courses can be held by
the ship, according to the wind that blows, and what cannot,
and which of these is most conducive to her progress in her
intended voyage; and he must be able to perform every
part of the necessary operation with his own hands.
andcTffi1106 ^ e are just^ec^ 'n caU*ng it a noble art, not only by its
culty of the *mPortance’ it is quite needless to amplify or embel-
art. lish, but by its immense extent and difficulty, and the pro¬
digious number and variety of principles on which it is
founded, all of which must be possessed in such a manner
that they shall offer themselves without reflection in an in-
vol. xx.
stant, otherwise the so-called seaman, whatever be his pre- Seaman-
tensions, cannot be trusted in charge of a watch. ship.
The art is practised, to a certain extent, by persons with-
out what we call education, and in the humbler walks of life,
and therefore it suffers in the estimation of the careless spec¬
tator. It is thought little of because little attention is paid
to it. But if multiplicity, variety, and intricacy of prin¬
ciples, and a systematic knowledge of these principles, en¬
title any art to the appellation of scientific and liberal, sea¬
manship claims these epithets in an eminent degree. We
are amused with the pedantry of the seaman, which appears
in his whole language. Indeed, it is the only pedantry that
amuses. A scholar, a soldier, a lawyer, nay, even the ele¬
gant courtier, would disgust us, were he to make the thou¬
sandth part of the allusions to his profession that is well re¬
ceived from the seaman; and we do the seaman no more
than justice. His profession must engross his whole mind,
otherwise he can never learn it. A sailor, although unedu¬
cated, may possess a prodigious deal of knowledge ; but can¬
not tell what he knows, or rather what he feels, for his
science is really at his finger-ends. We can say with con¬
fidence, that if a person of education, versed in mechanics,
and acquainted with the structure of a ship, were to observe
with attention the movements which are made on board a
first or second rate ship of war during a shifting storm, un¬
der the direction of an intelligent officer, he would be rapt
in admiration.
What a pity it is that an art so important, so difficult, and
so intimately connected with the invariable laws of mechani¬
cal nature, should be so held by many of its possessors, that
it cannot improve, but must die with each individual. Hav¬
ing no advantages of previous education, they cannot scien¬
tifically arrange their thoughts. They can far less express
or communicate to others the intuitive knowledge which
they possess ; and their art, acquired by habit alone, is little
difierent from an instinct. We are not entitled to expect
much improvement here ; yet a ship may be considered as
a machine. We know the forces which act on it, and we
A
2
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
which has
been zeal¬
ously culti¬
vated by
the French
philoso¬
phers.
Argument
against the
utility of
their per¬
formances ;
which are
confessedly
erroneous
in their
fundamen¬
tal princi¬
ples ;
know the results of its construction; all these are as fixed
as the laws of motion. What hinders this to be reduced to
a set of practical maxims, as well founded and as logically
deduced as the working of a steam-engine or a cotton-mill ?
The stoker or the spinner acts only with his hands, and
may “ whistle as he works, for want of thought; hut the
mechanist, the engineer, thinks for him, improves his ma¬
chine, and directs him to a better practice. May not the
seaman look for the same assistance ; and may not the in¬
genious speculist in his closet unravel the intricate thread of
mechanism which connects all the manual operations with
the unchangeable laws of nature, and both furnish the sea¬
man with a better machine, and direct him to a more dex¬
terous use of it.
We cannot help thinking that much may be done ; nay,
we may say that much has been done. We think highly
of the progressive labours of Renaud, Pitot, Bouguer, Du
Hamel, Groignard, Bernoulli, Euler, Romme, and others ;
and are both surprised and sorry that Britain has contri¬
buted so little in these attempts. Gordon is the only one
of our countrymen who has given a professedly scientific
treatise on a small branch of the subject. The government
of France has always been strongly impressed with the no¬
tion of great improvements being attainable by systematic
study of this art; and we are indebted to the endeavours of
that ingenious nation for any thing of practical importance
that has been obtained. M. Bouguer was professor of hy¬
drology at one of the marine academies of France, and was
enjoined, as part of his duty, to compose dissertations both
on the construction and the working of ships. His Traite
du Navire and his Manceuvre des Vaisseaux, are undoubt¬
edly very valuable performances. So are those of Euler and
Bernoulli, considered as mathematical dissertations; and they
are wonderful works of genius, considered as the produc¬
tions of persons who hardly ever saw a ship, and were totally
unacquainted with the profession of a seaman. In this re¬
spect Bouguer had great superiority, having always lived
at a sea-port, and having made many very long voyages. His
treatises, therefore, are infinitely better accommodated to the
demands of the seaman, and more directly instructive ; but
still the author is more a mathematician than an artist, and
his performance is intelligible only to mathematicians. It
is true, the academical education of the young gentleman of
the French navy is such, that a great number of them may
acquire the preparatory knowledge that is necessary ; and
we are well informed that, in this respect, the officers of the
British navy are greatly inferior to them. At the same time,
we may observe, that the French themselves appear so little
sensible of the advantage of these publications, that no per¬
son among them has attempted to make a familiar abridg¬
ment of them, written in a way fitted to attract attention ;
and they still remain neglected in their original abstruse and
uninteresting form ; in consequence of which, these very
ingenious and learned dissertations are by no means so use¬
ful as we should expect. They are large books, and appear
to contain much; and as their plan is logical, it seems to
occupy the whole subject, and, therefore, to have done al¬
most all that can be done. But, alas! they have oihy
opened the subject, and the study is yet in its infancy. I he
whole science of the art must proceed on the knowledge of
the impulsions of the wind and water. These are the forces
which act on the machine; and its motions, which are the
ultimatum of our research, whether as an end to be ob¬
tained or as a thing to be prevented, must depend on these
forces. Now it is with respect to this fundamental point
that we are as yet almost totally in the dark. And in the
performances of M. Bouguer, as also in those of the other
authors we have named, the theory of these forces, by which
their quantity and the direction of their action are ascer¬
tained, is altogether erroneous; and its results deviate so
enormously from what is observed in the motions of a ship,
that the persons who shou/a direct the operations on ship- Seaman-
board, in conformity to the maxims deducible from M. Bou- ship,
guer’s propositions, would be baffled in most of his attempts, *~
and be in danger of losing the ship. The whole proceeds
on the supposed truth of that theory which states the im¬
pulse of a fluid to be in the proportion of the square of the
sine of the angle of incidence; and that its action on any
small portion, such as a square foot of the sails or hull, is
the same as if that portion were detached from the rest, and
were exposed, single and alone, to the wind or water in the
same angle. But it can be shown, both from theory and
experience, that both of these principles are erroneous, and
this to a very great degree, in cases which occur most fre¬
quently in practice, that is, in the small angles of inclina¬
tion. When the wind falls nearly perpendicular on the
sails, theory is not very erroneous ; but in these cases, the
circumstances of the ship’s situation are generally such that
the practice is easy, occurring almost without thought; and
in this case too, even considerable deviations from the very
best practice are of no great moment. The interesting
cases, where the intended movement requires or depends
upon very oblique actions of the wind on the sails, and its
practicability or impracticability depends on a very small
variation of this obliquity ; a mistake of the force, either as
to intensity or direction, produces a mighty effect on the
resulting motion. This is the case in sailing to windward,
the most important of all the general problems of seaman¬
ship. The trim of the sails, and the course cl the ship, so
as to gain most on the wind, are very nice things; that is,
they are confined within very narrow limits, and a small
mistake produces a very considerable effect. The same
thing obtains in many of the nice problems of tacking, box-
hauling, wearing after lying-to in a gale of wind, &c.
The error in the second assertion of the theory is still
greater, and the action on one part of the sail or hull is so
greatly modified by its action on another adjoining part,
that a stay-sail is often seen hanging like a loose rag, al¬
though there is nothing between it and the wind ; and this
merely because a great sail in its neighbourhood sends off a
lateral stream of wind, which completely hinders the wind
from getting at it. Till the theory of the action of fluids
be established, therefore, we cannot tell what are the forces
which are acting on every point of the sail and hull; there¬
fore we cannot tell either the mean intensity or direction of
the whole force which acts on any particular sail, nor the in¬
tensity and mean direction of the resistance to the hull;
circumstances absolutely necessary for enabling us to say
what will be their energy in producing a rotation round any
particular axis. In like manner, we cannot, by such a com¬
putation, find the spontaneous axis of conversion, or the
velocity of such conversion. In short, we cannot pronounce
with tolerable confidence & priori what will be the motions
in any case, or what dispositions of the sails will produce
the movement we wish to perform. The experienced sea¬
man learns by habit the general effects of every disposition
of the sails; and though his knowledge is far from being
accurate, it seldom leads him into any very blundering ope¬
ration. Perhaps he seldom makes the best adjustment
possible, but seldomer still does he deviate very far from it;
and in the most general and important problems, such as
working to windward, the result of much experience and
many corrections has settled a trim of the sails, which is
certainly not far from the truth, but it must be acknow¬
ledged, deviates widely and uniformly from the theories of
the mathematician’s closet.
After this account of the theoretical performances in
the art of seamanship, and entertaining, as we do, small
hopes of seeing a perfect theory of the impulse of
fluids, it will not be expected that we enter very
minutely on the subject in this place; nor is it our
intention. But let it be observed that the theory is defect-
SEAMANSHIP.
made of
them.
Design of
Seaman- ive in one point only; and although this is a most import-
ship. ant point, and the errors in it destroy the conclusions of
the chief propositions, the reasonings remain in full force,
though use and the modus operandi is precisely such as is stated in the
may be theory. The principles of the art are therefore to be found
in these treatises; but false inferences have been drawn,
by computing from erroneous quantities. The rules and
the practice of the computation, however, are still beyond
controversy. Nay, since the process of investigation is le¬
gitimate, we may make use of it in order to discover the
very circumstance in which we are at present mistaken ;
for by converting the proposition, instead of finding the
motions by means of the supposed forces, combined with
the known mechanism, we may discover the forces by
means of this mechanism and the observed motions.
„ We shall, therefore, in this place, give a very general
this article. v;evv 0f tjie movements of a ship under sail, showing how
they are produced and modified by the action of the wind
on her sails, the water on her rudder and on her bows. We
shall not attempt a precise determination of any of these
movements ; but we shall say enough to enable the curious
landsman to understand how this mighty machine is man¬
aged amidst the fury of the winds and waves; and, what is
more to our wish, we hope to enable the thinking seaman,
to generalise that knowledge which he possesses ; to class
his ideas, and give them a sort of rational system; and even
to improve his practice, by making him sensible of the im¬
mediate operation of everything he does, aud in what man¬
ner it contributes to produce the movement which he has
in view.
A ship may be considered at present as a mass of inert
matter in free space, at liberty to move in every direction,
according to the forces which impel or resist her; and
r    when she is in actual motion, in the direction of her course,
resisted by we may still consider her as at rest in absolute space, but
opposite exposed to the impulse of a current of water moving equally
fast in the opposite direction; for in both cases the pres¬
sure of the water on her bows is the same ; and we know
that it is possible, and frequently happens in currents, that
the impulse of the wind on her sails, and that of the water
on her bows, balance each other so precisely, that she not
only does not stir from the place, but also remains steadily
in the same position, with her head directed to the same
point of the compass. This state of things is easily con¬
ceived by any person accustomed to consider mechanical
subjects, and every seaman of experience has observed it.
It is of importance to consider it in this point of view, be¬
cause it gives us the most familiar notion of the manner in
which these forces of the wind and water are set in oppo¬
sition, and made to balance or not to balance each other by
the intervention of the ship, in the same manner as the
goods and the weights balance each other in the scales by
the intervention of a beam or steelyard.
When a ship proceeds steadily in her course, without
on me sans chanSing her r^e of sailing, or varying the direction of her
opposite to !lead’ we m,ust first place conceive the accumulated
that of the impulses of the wind on all her sails as precisely equal and
water on directly opposite to the impulse of the water on her bows,
the bows. In the next place, because the ship does not change the
direction of her keel, she resembles the balanced steelyard,
in which the energies of the two weights, which tend to
produce rotations in opposite directions, and thus to change
the position of the beam, mutually balance each other round
the fulcrum ; so the energies of the actions of the wind on
the different sails balance the energies of the water on the
different parts of the hull.
Skill of the The seaman has two principal tasks to perform. The
played inS 'V0 ^.eeP t^le S^'P stead>ly in that course which will
ring her farthest on in the line of her intended voyage,
l lns is frequently very different from that line, and the
choice of the best course is sometimes a matter of consider-
A ship con-
sidered as
in free
space, im¬
pelled and
forces.
Impulse of
the wind
on the sails
played
shapin
course
his
able difficulty. It is sometimes possible to shape the course Seaman-
precisely along th^ line of the voyage; and yet the intel- ship,
hgent seaman knows that he will arrive sooner, or with v^—
greater safety, at his port, by taking a different course;
because he will gain more by increasing his speed than he
loses by increasing the distance. Some principle must
direct him in the selection of this course. This we must
attempt to lay before the reader.
Having chosen such a course as he thinks most advan¬
tageous, he must set such a quantity of sail as the strength
of the wind will allow him to carry with safety and effect,
and must trim the sails properly, or so adjust their positions
to the direction of the wind, that they may have the greatest
possible tendency to impel the ship in the line of her course,
and to keep her steadily in that direction.
His other task is to produce any deviations which he
sees proper from the present course of the ship ; and to pro¬
duce these in the most certain, the safest, and the most
expeditious manner. It is chiefly in this movement that
the mechanical nature of a ship comes into view, and it is
here that the superior address and resources of an expert
seaman is to be perceived.
Under the article Sailing, some notice has been taken
of the first task of the seaman, and it was there shown how
a ship, after having taken up her anchor and fitted her sails,
accelerates her motion, by degrees which continually di¬
minish, till the increasing resistance of the water becomes
precisely equal to the diminished impulse of the wind, and
then the motion continues uniformly the same, so long as
the wind continues to blow with the same force, and in the
same direction.
It is perfectly consonant to experience, that the impulse
of fluids is in the duplicate ratio of the relative velocity.
Let it be supposed that when water moves one foot per
second, its perpendicular pressure or impulse on a square
foot is m pounds. '1 hen, if it be moving with the velocity
V estimated in feet per second, its perpendicular impulse
on a surface S, containing any number of square feet, must
be m SV2.
In like manner, the impulse of air on the same surface
may be represented by n SV2; and the proportion of the
impulse of these two fluids will be that of m to n. We may
express this by the ratio of q to 1, making^ =<7.
M. Bouguer’s computations and tables are on the suppo- impuise 0f
sition that the impulse of sea-water moving 1 foot per the water
second is twenty-three ounces on a square foot, and that computed
the impulse of the wind is the same when it blows at the in ounces
rate of 24 feet per second. These measures are all French, on the
and by no means agree with the experiments of Buat and 8quarefoot*
others, whose conclusions confirm the results of investiga¬
tion, namely, that nothing like precise measures can be ex¬
pected, and that the impulsions and resistances at the same
surface, with the same obliquity of incidence, and the same
velocity of motion, are different according to the form
and situation of the adjoining parts. Thus the total re¬
sistance of a thin board is greater than that of a long prism,
having this board for its front or bow, &c.
We are greatly at a loss what to give as absolute mea¬
sures of these impulsions.
1. With respect to water. The experiments of the
French academy on a prism 2 feet broad and deep, and
4 feet long, indicate a resistance of 0.973 pounds avoirdu¬
pois to a square foot, moving with the velocity of 1 foot per
second at the surface of still water.
Mr Buat’s experiments on a square foot wholly immersed
in a stream, were as follow:—
A square foot as a thin plate 1-81 pounds.
„ „ as the front of a box 1 foot long.1-42 „
„ „ as the front of a box 3 feet long. 129 „
The resistance of sea-water is about greater.
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
Direct im¬
pulse on
the sail
yard.
2. With respect to air the varieties are as great. The
resistance of a square foot to air moving with the velocity
of 1 foot per second, appears from Mr Robin’s experiments
on 16 square inches to be—
On a square foot   O'OOloOo pounds.
Chevalier Borda’s on 16 inches 0’00175i „
,, „ on 81 inches 0'002042 ,,
Mr Rouse’s on large surfaces 0-002291 „
Precise measures are not to be expected, nor are they
necessary in this inquiry. Here we are chiefly interested
in their proportions, as they may be varied by their mode
of action in the different circumstances of obliquity and
velocity.
We begin by recurring to the fundamental proposition
concerning the impulse of fluids,—viz., that the absolute
pressure is always in a direction perpendicular to the im-
perpendi- pe]iej surface, whatever may be the direction of the stream
cular to the of We must therefore illustrate the doctrine, by al¬
ways supposing a flat surface of sail stretched on a yard,
which can be braced about in any direction, and giving
this sail such a position and such an extent of surface that
the impulse on it may be the same, both as to direction and
intensity, with that on the real sails. Thus the considera¬
tion is greatly simplified. The direction of the impulse is
therefore perpendicular to the yard. Its intensity depends
on the velocity with which the wind meets the sail, and
the obliquity of its stroke. We shall adopt the construc¬
tions founded on the common doctrine, that the impulse is
as the square of the sine of the inclination, because they
are simple; whereas, if we were to introduce the values of
the oblique impulses, such as they have been observed in
the excellent experiments of the Academy of Paris, the
constructions would be complicated in the extreme, and we
could hardly draw any consequences which would be in¬
telligible to any but expert mathematicians. The conclu¬
sions will be erroneous, not in kind but in quantity only;
and we shall point out the necessary corrections, so that
the final results will be found not very different from real
observation.
If a ship were a round cylindrical body like a flat tub,
floating on its bottom, and fitted with a mast and sail in
the centre, she would always sail in a direction perpendi¬
cular to the yard. This is evident. But she is an oblong
body, and may be compared to a chest, whose length greatly
exceeds its breadth. She is so shaped that a moderate
force will push her through the water with the head or stern
foremost; but it requires a very great force to push her
sideways with the same velocity. A fine sailing ship of
war will require about twelve times as much force to push
her sideways as to push her head foremost. In this respect,
therefore, she will very much resemble a chest whose length
is twelve times its breadth; and whatever be the proportion
of these resistances in different ships, we may always sub¬
stitute a box, which shall have the same resistances head¬
ways and sideways.
Let EFGH (fig. 1) be the horizontal section of such a
box, and AB its middle
line, and C its centre. In
whatever direction this
box may chance to move,
the direction of the whole
resistance on its two sides
will pass through C. For
as the whole stream has
one inclination to the side Fig-1-
EF, the equivalent of the equal impulses on every part will
be in a line perpendicular to the middle of EF. For the
same reason it will be in a line perpendicular to the middle
ofFG. These perpendiculars must cross in C. Suppose
a mast erected at C, and YCy to be a yard hoisted on it
carrying a sail. Let the yard be first conceived as braced
A ship
compared
to an ob¬
long box.
wind.
right athwart at right angles to the keel, as represented by Seaman-
Y'y. Then, whatever be the direction of the wind abaft ship,
this sail, it will impel the vessel in the direction CB. But
if the sail has the oblique position Yy, the impulse will be Makes lee
in the direction CD perpendicular to CY, and will both way when
push the vessel ahead and sideways ; for the impulse CD is11®1 sailing
equivalent to the two impulses CK and Cl (the sides of a^irectj’ybe'
rectangle of which CD is the diagonal). The force Cl °re 8
pushes the vessel ahead, and CK pushes her sideways.
She must therefore take some intermediate direction ab,
such that the resistance of the water to the plane FG is to
its resistance to the plane EF as Cl to CK.
The angle &CB between the real course and the direc¬
tion of the head is called the leeway ; and in the course of
this dissertation we shall express it by the sjmbol x. It
evidently depends on the shape of the vessel and on the
position of the yard. An accurate knowledge of the quan¬
tity of leeway, corresponding to different circumstances of
obliquity of impulse, extent of surface, &c\, is of the utmost
importance in the practice of navigation; and even an ap¬
proximation is valuable. The subject is so very difficult
that this must content us for the present.
Let V be the velocity of the ship in the direction Cb,
and let the surfaces FG and FE be called A' and B'.
Then the resistance to the lateral motion is mV2 x B' x sine2,
Z>CB, and that to the direct motion is mY~ x A' x sine2,
Z>CK, or rnY2 x A' x cos26CB. Therefore these resistances
are in the proportion of B' x sine2, x to A' x cos2, x (repre¬
senting the angle of leeway Z>CB by the symbol x).
Therefore we have Cl : CK, or Cl : ID = A'‘cos.2a?: B'1
sine2#, = A' : B''
: A': B' * tangent2#.
Let the angle YCB, to which the yard is braced up, be How to
called the trim of the sails, and expressed by the symbol find the
b. This is the complement of the angle DCL Now Cl : quantity of
ID = rad. : tan. DCI, = 1 : tan. DCI, = 1: cotan. b. There-leeway
fore we have finally 1 : cotan. b = A': B'• tan.2#, and A' *
A'
cotan. 6 = B' • tangent2#, and tan.2#= ^p-cot. b. This equa¬
tion evidently ascertains the mutual relation between the
trim of the sails and the leeway, in every case where we can
tell the proportion between the resistances to the direct and
broadside motions of the ship, and where this proportion
does not change by the obliquity of the course. Thus, sup¬
pose the yard braced up to an angle of 30° with the keel.
Then cotan. 30° = 1’732 very nearly. Suppose also that the
resistance sideways is twelve times greater than the resist¬
ance headways. This gives A = 1 and B' = 12. Therefore
1-732
1-732= 12 x tangent2#, and tangent2# = —yry—, =0-14434,
and tan. # = 0-3799, and # = 20°, 48' very nearly two points
of leeway.
This computation, or rather the equation which gives
room for it, supposes the resistances proportional to the
squares of the sines of incidence. The experiments of the
Academy of Paris (see article Hydrodynamics) show that
this supposition is not far from the truth when the angle of
incidence is great. In the present case tbe angle of inci¬
dence on the front FG is about 70°, and the experiments
just now mentioned show that the real resistances exceed
the theoretical ones only But the angle of incidence
on EF is only 20° 48'. Experiment shows that in this in¬
clination the resistance is almost quadruple of the theore¬
tical resistances. Therefore the lateral resistance is as¬
sumed much too small in the present instance. Therefore
a much smaller leeway will suffice for producing a lateral
resistance which will balance the lateral impulse CK, arising
from the obliquity of the sail, viz., 30°. The matter ot fact
is, that a pretty good sailing ship, with her sails braced to
this angle at a medium, will not make above five or six de-
SEAMANSHIP.
which de¬
pends on
trim of the
sails.
Seaman- grees leeway in smooth water and fine weather; and yet
ship- in this situation the hull and rigging present a very great
surface to the wind, in the most improper positions, so as to
have a very great effect in increasing her leeway. And if
we compute the resistances for this leeway of six degrees
by the actual experiments of the French Academy on the
angle, we shall find the result not far from the truth,—that
is, the direct and lateral resistances will be nearly in the
proportion of Cl to ID.
It results from this view of the matter, that the leeway is
in general much smaller than what the usual theory assigns.
We also see that, according to whatever law the resist¬
ances change by a change of inclination, the leeway re¬
mains the same while the trim of the sails is the same.
The leeway depends only on the direction of the impulse
of the wind; and this depends solely on the position of the
sails with respect to the keel, whatever may be the direc¬
tion of the wind. This is a very important observation,
and will be frequently referred to in the progress of the
present investigation. Note, however, that we are here
considering only the action on the sails, and on the same
sails. We are not considering the action of the wind on
the hull and rigging. This may be very considerable; and
it is always in a lee direction, and augments the leeway;
and its influence must be so much the more sensible, as it
bears a greater proportion to the impulse on the sails. A
ship under close-reefed topsails and courses, must make
more leeway than when under all her canvas, trimmed
to the same angle. But to introduce this additional cause
of deviation here would render the investigation too com¬
plicated to be of any use.
This doctrine will be considerably illustrated by attend-
to the manner in which a lighter is tracked along a
Illustra¬
tion of this
doctrine by
experi¬
ments on
models and
mg
canal, or swings to
its anchor in a
stream. The track-
rope is made fast
to some staple or
bolt E on the deck
(fig. 2), and is
passed between two
of the timber-heads of the bow D, and laid hold of at F
on shore. The men or cattle walk along the path FG,
the rope keeps extended in the direction DF, and the
lighter arranges itself in an oblique position AB, and is
thus dragged along in the direction ab, parallel to the
side of the canal; or, if the canal has a current in the
opposite direction the lighter may be kept steady in
its place by the rope DF made fast to a post at F. In
this case, it is always observed, that, the lighter swings
in a position AB, which is oblique to the stream ab. Now,
the force which retains it in this position, and which pre¬
cisely balances the action of the stream, is certainly exerted
in the direction DF; and the lighter would be held in the
same manner if the rope were made fast at C amidship,
without any dependence on the timberheads at D; and it
would be held in the same position, if, instead of the single
rope CF, it were riding by two ropes CG and CH, of which
CH is in a direction right ahead, but oblique to the stream,
and the other CG is perpendicular to CH or AB. And,
drawing DI and DK perpendicular to AB and CG, the
strain on the rope CH is to that on the rope CG as Cl to
CK. T. he action of the rope in these cases is precisely
analogous to that of the sail yY ; and the obliquity of the
keel to the direction of the motion, or to the direction of
the stream, is analogous to the leeway. All this must be
evident to any person accustomed to mechanical disqui¬
sitions.
A most important use may be made of this illustration.
If an accurate model be made of a ship, and if it be placed Seaman-
in a stream of water, and ridden in this manner by a rope ship-
made fast at any point D of the bow, it will arrange itself
in some determined position AB. There will be a certain
obliquity to the stream, measured by the angle B06 ; and
there will be a corresponding obliquity of the rope, mea¬
sured by the angle FCB. Let yCY "be perpendicular to
CF. Then CY will be the position of the yard, or trim of
the sails corresponding to the leeway 6CB. Then, if we
shift the rope to a point of the bow distant from D by a
small quantity, we shall obtain a new position of the ship,
both with respect to the stream and rope ; and in this way
may be obtained the relation between the position of the
sails and the leeway, independent of all theory, and sus¬
ceptible of great accuracy ; and this may be done with
a variety of models suited to the most usual forms of
ships.
In further thinking on this subject, we are persuaded
that these experiments, instead of being made on models,
may with equal ease be
made on a ship of any
size. Let the ship
ride in a stream at a
mooring D (fig. 3), by
means of a short haw¬
ser BCD from her
bow, having a spring
AC on it carried out
from her quarter. She
will swing to her moor- fis-3-
ings, till she ranges herself in a certain position AB with
respect to the direction ba of the stream ; and the direction
01 the hawser DC will point to some point E of the line of
the keel. Now, it is plain to any person acquainted with
mechanical disquisitions, that the deviation BE6 is precisely
the leeway that the ship will make when the average posi¬
tion of the sails is that of the line GEH perpendicular to
ED; at least this will give the leeway which is produced
by the sails alone. By heaving on the spring, the knot C
may be brought into any other position we please; and for
every new position of the knot the ship will take a new
position with respect to the stream and to the hawser. And
we persist in saying, that more information will be got by
this train of experiments than from any mathematical theory:
for all the theories of the impulses of fluids must proceed
on physical postulates with respect to the motions of the
filaments, which are exceedingly conjectural.
And it must now be farther observed, that the substitu- The com-
tion which we have made of an oblong parallelepiped for aparison of
ship, although well suited to give us clear notions of the a shiP t0
subject, is of small use in practice; for it is next to impos- anobl°ng
sible (even granting the theory of oblique impulsions) to^y^e
make this substitution. A ship is of a form which is not fui^give
reducible to equations; and therefore the action of the clear no-
water on her bow or broadside can only be had by a mosttions on
laborious and intricate calculation for almost every squarethe subject-
foot of its surface.1 And this must be different for every
ship. But, which is more unlucky, when we have got a
parallelepiped which will have the same proportion of direct
and lateral resistance for a particular angle of leeway, it
will not answer for another leeway of the same ship; for
when the leeway changes, the figure actually exposed to
the action of the water changes also. When the leeway
is increased, more of the lee-quarter is acted on by the
water, and a part of the weather-bow is now removed
from its action. Another parallelepiped must therefore
bej discovered, whose resistances shall suit this new posi¬
tion of the keel with respect to the real course of the
ship.
1 Bezout’s Cours de Mathcm., vol. v., p. 72, &c.
Fig. 4.
6 S E A M A
Seaman- We proceed, in the next place, to ascertain the relation
ship, between the velocity of the ship and that of the wind, mo-
dified as they may be by the trim of the sails and the obli¬
quity of the impulse.
The rela- Let AB (figs. 4, 5, and 6) represent the horizontal sec¬
tion he- tion of a ship. In place of
tween the a][ ^jie drawing sails—that is,
the°sChiy of the sails which are real,yfilled
and Vind —we can always substitute one
ascertain- sail of equal extent, trimmed
ed. to the same angle with the
keel. This being supposed
attached to the yard DCD,
let this yard be first of all at
right angles to the keel, as represented in fig. 4. Let the
wind blow in the direction WC, and let CE (in the direc¬
tion WC continued) represent the velocity V of the wind.
Let CF be the velocity v of the ship. It must also be in the
direction of the ship’s motion, because when the sail is at
right angles to the keel, the absolute impulse on the sail is
in the direction of the keel, and there is no lateral impulse,
and consequently no leeway. Draw EF, and complete the
parallelogram CFEe, producing eC through the centre of
the yard to zv. Then wC will be the relative or apparent
direction of the wind, and Ce or FE will be its apparent or
relative velocity. For if the line Ce be carried along CF,
keeping always parallel to its first position, and if a particle
of air move uniformly along CE (a fixed line in absolute
space) in the same time, this particle will always be found
in that point of CE, where it is intersected at that instant
by the moving line Ce; so that if Ce were a tube, the
particle of air, which really moves in the line CE, would
always be found in the tube Ce. While CE is the real
direction of the wind, Ce will be the position of the vane
at the mast-head, which will therefore mark the apparent
direction of the wind, or its motion relative to the moving
ship.
We may conceive this in another way. Suppose a can¬
non-shot fired in the direction CE at the passing ship, and^
that it passes through the mast at C with the velocity of
the wind. It will not pass through the off-side of the ship
at P, in the line CE; for while the shot moves from C to
P, the point P has gone forward, and the point p is now
in the place where P was when the shot passed through
the mast. The shot will therefore pass through the
ship’s side in the point p, and a person on board seeing it
pass through C and p, will say that its motion was in the
line Cp.
When a Thus it happens, that when a ship is in motion the ap-
ehip is in parent direction of the wind is always ahead of its real di¬
motion, the rection. The line wC is always found within the angle
apparent WCB. It is easy to see from the construction, that the
ih^wind Is difference between the real and apparent directions of the
alway^dif- wind is so much the more remarkable as the velocity of the
ferent from ship is greater. For the angle WCw or ECe depends on
the real the magnitude of Ee or CF, in proportion to CE. Persons
direction. not much accustomed to attend to these matters are apt to
think all attention to this difference to be nothing but affec¬
tation of nicety. All seamen are aware that the velocity
of a ship has a sensible proportion to that of the wind.
“ Swift as the wind,” is a proverbial expression : but it is
one which sometimes indeed falls short of the truth, as it is
known, that at times the ship’s velocity may exceed that of
the wind. The difference between the real direction of
the wind and that which in fact impels the ship, namely,
its apparent direction, is of great importance when steam
propulsion is combined with sails; and will be again
noticed when we come to that part of our subject. We
may form a pretty exact notion of the velocity of the
wind by observing the shadows of the summer clouds flying
along the face of a country, and it may be very well mea-
N S H I P.
sured by this method. The motion of such clouds cannot Seaman-
be very different from that of the air below ; and when the ship,
pressure of the wind on a flat surface, while blowing with
a velocity measured in this way, is compared with its pres¬
sure when its velocity is measured by more unexception¬
able methods, they are found to agree with all desirable
accuracy. Now, observations of this kind frequently re¬
peated, show that what we call a pleasant brisk gale blows
at the rate of about ten miles an hour, or about fifteen feet
in a second, and exerts a pressure of half a pound on a
square foot. Mr Smeaton has frequently observed the
sails of a windmill, driven by such a wind, moving faster
nay, much faster, towards their extremities, so that the
sail, instead of being pressed to the frames on the arms,
was taken aback, and fluttering on them. Nay, we know
that a good ship, with all her sails set, and the wind on the
beam, will, in such a situation, sail above ten knots an hour
in smooth water. There is an observation made by every
experienced seaman, which shows this difference between
the real and apparent directions of the wind very distinctly.
When a ship that is sailing briskly with the wind on the
beam tacks about, and then sails equally well on the other
tack, the wind always appears to have shifted and come
more ahead. This is familiar to all seamen. The seaman
judges of the direction of the wind by the position of the
ship’s vanes. Suppose the ship sailing due west on the
starboard tack, with the wind apparently N.N.W., the
vane pointing S.S.E. If the ship put about, and stands
due east on the port tack, the vane will be found no
longer to point S.S.E., but perhaps S.S.W., the wind
appearing N.N.E., and the ship must be nearly close-
hauled in order to make an east course. The wind ap¬
pears to have shifted four points. If the ship tacks again,
the wind returns to its old quarter. We have often ob¬
served a greater difference than this. 1 he celebrated as- observa-
tronomer Dr Bradley, taking the amusement of sailing in a tion 0f Dr
pinnace on the river Thames, observed this, and was sur- Bradley on
prised at it, imagining that the change of the wind was this sub¬
owing to the approaching to or retiring from the shoreJect*
The boatmen told him that it always happened at sea, and
explained it to him ig the best manner they were able.
The explanation struck him, and set him a-musing on an
astronomical phenomenon which he had been puzzled by
for some years, and which he called the aberration of the
fixed stars. Every star changes its place a small matter
for half a year, and returns to it at the completion of the
year. He compared the stream of light from the star to
the wind, and the telescope of the astronomer to the ship’s
vane, while the earth was like the ship, moving in opposite
directions when in the opposite point of its orbit. The
telescope must always be pointed ahead of the real direc¬
tion of the star, in the same manner as the vane is always
in a direction ahead of the wind; and thus he ascertained
the progressive motion of light, and discovered the propor¬
tion of its velocity to the velocity of the earth in its orbit,
by observing the deviation which was necessarily given to
the telescope. Observing that the light shifted its direc¬
tion about 40", he concluded its velocity to be about 11,000
times greater than that of the earth; just as the intelligent
seaman would conclude from this apparent shifting of the
wind, that the velocity of the wind is about triple that of
the ship. This is indeed the best method for discovering
the velocity of the wind. Let the direction of the vane at
the mast-head be very accurately noticed on both tacks,
and let the velocity of the ship be also accurately measured.
The angle between the directions of the ship’s head on
these different tacks being halved, will give the real direc¬
tion of the wind, which must be compared with the position
of the vane in order to determine the angle contained be¬
tween the real and apparent directions of the wind or the
angle ECe; or half of the observed shifting of the wind
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman
ship.
Velocity
a ship
when its
sails are
at right
angles to
the keel.
will show the inclination of its true and apparent directions.
This being found, the proportion of EC to FC (fig. 6) is
easily measured.
We have been very particular on this point, because
since the mutual actions of bodies depend on their relative
motions only, we should make prodigious mistakes if we
estimated the action of the wind by its real direction and
velocity, when they differ so much from the relative or
apparent.
of We now resume the investigation of the velocity of the
ship (fig. 4), having its sails at right angles to the keel, and
the wind blowing in the direction and with the velocity
CE, while the ship proceeds in the direction of the keel
with the velocity CF. Produce Ee, which is parallel to
BC, till it meet the yard in and draw FG perpendicular
to E?. Let a represent the angle WCD, contained be¬
tween the sail and the real direction of the wind, and let 6
be the angle of trim DCB. CE, the velocity of the wind,
was expressed by V, and CF, the velocity of the ship,
by v.
The absolute impulse on the sail is (by the usual theory)
proportional to the square of the relative velocity, and to
the square of the sine of the angle of incidence; that is, to
FE2 x sin 2/47CD. Now the angle GFE = wCD, and EG
is equal to FE x sin GFE ; and EG is equal to E# - G^.
But E^ = ECxsin EQy, = V x sin a ; and ffG = CF, = v.
1 herefore EG = V x sin a — v, and the impulse is propor¬
tional to (V x sin a — v)2. If S represent the surface of
the sail, the impulse, in pounds, will be «S (V x sin a — v)2.
Let A be the surface which, when it meets the water per¬
pendicularly with the velocity v, will sustain the same pres¬
sure or resistance which the bows of the ship actually meet
w ith. This impulse, in pounds, will be mA.v2. Therefore,
because we are considering the ship’s motion as in a state of
uniformity, the two pressures balance each other; and there¬
fore m Air =raS(V x sin a — u)2and — A.v2 = S(V xsina-t?)2;
therefore
nW A x i; = x V x sin a - fly's, and v =
x V x sin a __ V x sin a V x sin a
A + \/ 6
\/~ + l
\/ <7^
+ 1*
r mA
n ' / ~ T T 7S
W e see, in the first place, that the velocity of the ship
is, cater is paribus, proportional to the velocity of the wind,
and to the sine of its incidents on the sail jointly ; for while
the smface of the sail S and the equivalent surface for the
bow remains the same, v increases or diminishes at the same
rate with ¥• sin. a. When the wind is right astern, the sine
of a is unity, and then the ship’s velocity is-
V
raS
+1.
Note, that the denominator of this fraction is a common
number; for m and n are numbers and A and S being
quantities of one kind,-^-is also a number.
It must also be carefully attended to, that S expresses a
quantity of sail actually receiving wind with the inclination
a. it will not always be true, therefore, that the velocity
wi increase as the wind is more abaft, because some sails
will then becalm others. This observation is not, however
ot great importance ; for it is very unusual to put a ship
m the situation considered hitherto; that is, with the yards
square, unless she be right before the wind.
If we should discover the relation between the velocity
and the quantity of sail in this simple case of the wind right
aft, observe that the equation v^-j-A gives us
no
K/m\. __ . //«A n
V ^ + «=V, andV and^gn2 =
-2 Seaman-
y ? ship.
, nS
and —- =
«*A
and because n and m and A are Con¬
or the sur-
+ L
(V—li)2
va
slant quantities, S is proportional to^ 
face of sail is proportional to the square of the ship’s velo¬
city directly, and to the square of the relative velocity in¬
versely. Thus, if a ship be sailing with one-eighth of the
velocity of the wind, and we would have her sail with one-
fourth of it, we must quadruple the sail. This is more
easily seen in another wray. The velocity of the ship is
proportional to the velocity of the wind ; and therefore the
relative velocity is also proportional to that of the wind,
and the impulse of the wind is as the square of the relative
velocity. I herefore, in order to increase the relative velo¬
city by an increase of sail only, we must make this increase
of sail in the duplicate proportion of the increase of velocity.
Let us, in the next place, consider the motion of a ship
whose sails stand oblique to the keel.
The construction for this purpose differs a little from the Its velocity
former, because, when the sails are trimmed to any oblique when the
position DCB (figs. 5 and 6), there must be a deviation sa^.s stan(l
from the direction of the ,, oblique to
keel, or a leeway BC6. ^ the keel.
Call this x. Let CF be
the velocity of the ship.
Draw, as before, Eg per¬
pendicular to the yard, and
FG perpendicular to Eg;
also, draw FH perpendi¬
cular to the yard ; then, as
before, EG, which is in the
subduplicate ratio of the
impulse on the sail, is equal
to Eg—Gg. Now Eg is,
as before, = V x sin a, and
G<7 is equal to FH, which Fis-5-
is=CF x sin FCH, or=i?xsin (b + x). Therefore
have the impulse = »S(V'sina—• sin (6 +a?))2.
This expression of
the impulse is perfectly
similar to that in the
former case, its only
difference consisting in
the subductive part,
which is here v x sin
6 + a? instead of v. But
it expresses the same
thing as before, viz.,
the diminution of the
impulse. The impulse
being reckoned solely rig.e.
in the direction perpendicular to the sail, it is diminished
solely by the sail withdrawing itself in that direction from
the wind ; and as gE may be considered as the real impul¬
sive motion of the wind, GE must be considered as the
relative and effective impulsive motion. The impulse
would have been the same had the ship been at rest, and
had the wind met it perpendicularly with the velocity GE.
We must now show the connection between this impulse Connection
and the motion of the ship. The sail, and consequently between
the ship, is pressed by the wind in the direction Cl per- the im'
pendicular to the sail or yard with the force which we have motion of
just now determined. This (in the state of uniform mo-the ship°
tion) must be equal and opposite to the action of the water.
Draw IL at right angles to the keel. The impulse in the
direction Cl (which we may measure by Cl) is equivalent
to the impulses CL and LI. By the first the ship is im¬
pelled right forward, and by the second she is driven side-
8
Seaman¬
ship.
Important
conse¬
quences
deduced
from the
foregoing
theorem.
S E A M A
ways. Therefore we must have a leeway, and a lateial as
well as a direct resistance. We suppose the form of the
ship to be known, and therefore the proportion is known, or
discoverable, between the direct and lateral lesistances
corresponding to every angle x of leeway. Let A be the
surface whose perpendicular resistance is equal to the direct
resistance of the ship corresponding to the leeway x, that
is, whose resistance is equal to the resistance really felt by
the ship’s bows in the direction of the keel when she is
sailing with this leeway ; and let B in like manner be the
surface whose perpendicular resistance is equal to the actual
resistance to the ship’s motion in the diiection LI, jpeipen-
dicular to the keel. (This is not equivalent to A and B
adapted to the rectangular box, but to A cos. x and B
sin.2#). We have therefore A : B = CL : LI, and LI =
-CL*B. Also, because CI = VCL2 + LP, we have A:
.A.   
VA2 + B2 = CL : Cl, and CI= CL ^ +B- The re¬
sistance in the direction LC is properly measured by m A
t'2, as has been already observed. Therefore the resistance
in the direction IC must be expressed by msj A2 + B2]p2; or
(making C the surface which is equal to VA2 + B2, and
which will therefore have the same perpendicular resistance
to the water having the velocity v) it may be expressed by
mCv2.
Therefore, because there is an equilibrium between the
impulse and resistance, we have ?wCv2 = wS(V * sin o v
sin b + x)2, and—1 Cv2, or qCv2 = S(V’ sin a—v sin b + xf
and V C# = V/ S(V • sin a—v sin b + x).
VS * V * sin a
Therefore t. - ,/ ? V C + V S • sin 6+T’ ~
V • sin a  Sin a 
VC
+ sin b+x
Vs
Vq-j^ + sin b + x-
V >5
Observe that the quantity which is the co-efficient of V
in this equation is a common number ; for sin. a is a nnm-
ber, being a decimal fraction of the radius 1, sin + is
also a number, for the same reason. And since m and n
were numbers of pounds,
ox q
is a common number. And
lecause C and S are surfaces, or quantities of one kind,
■'l
7 is also a common number.
This is the simplest expression that we can think of for
the velocity acquired by the ship, though it must be acknow¬
ledged to be too complex to be of very prompt use. Its
complication arises from the necessity of introducing the
leeway x. This affects the whole of the denominator; for
the surface C depends on it, because C is == VA2+B“,
and A and B are analogous to A' cos 2# and B sin 2#.
But we can deduce some important consequences from
this theorem.
While the surface S of the sail actually filled by the wind
remains the same, and the angle DCB, which in future we
shall call the trim of the sails, also remains the same, both
the leeway x and the substituted surface C remains the
same. The denominator is therefore constant; and the ve¬
locity of the ship is proportional to ,/S ‘ V * sin a; that is,
directly as the velocity of the wind, directly as the absolute
inclination of the wind to the yard, and directly as the
square root of the surface of the sails.
We also learn from the construction of the figure, that
FG parallel to the yard cuts CE in a given ratio. For CF
is in a constant ratio to E</, as has been just now demon¬
strated. And the angle DCF is constant. Therefore
CF • sin or FH or G^, is proportional to E<7, and OC to
N S H IP.
EC, or EC is cut in one proportion, whatever may be the
angle ECD, so long as the angle DCF is constant.
We also see that it is very possible for the velocity of the
ship on an oblique course to exceed that of the wind. This
Seaman¬
ship.
will be the case when the number
sin a
V
c . _
</ - + sin £
+ x
ex¬
ceeds unity, or when sin a is greater than V q g + sin b + x.
Now this may easily be by sufficiently enlarging S and
diminishing b + x. It is indeed frequently seen in fine
sailers with all their sails set and not hauled too near the
wind.
We remarked above that the angle of leeway x affects
the whole denominator of the fraction which expresses the
velocity. Let it be observed that the angle ICL is the com-
plemeiitof LCD, or of b. Therefore, CL : LI, or A : B = 1:
tan ICL = 1 : cot 6, and B = A ’ cotan b. Now A is equi¬
valent to A' ’ cos2#, and thus b becomes a function of x.
C is evidently so, being VA* + B2. Therefore before the
value of this fraction can be obtained, we must be able to
compute, by our knowledge of the form of the ship, the
value of A for every angle x of leeway. This can be done
only by resolving her bows into a great number of elemen¬
tary planes, and computing the impulses on each and add¬
ing them into one sum. The computation is of immense
labour, as may be seen by one example given by Bouguer.
When the leeway is but small, not exceeding ten degrees,
the substitution of the rectangular prism of one determined
form is abundantly exact for all leeways contained within
this limit; and we shall soon see reason for being con¬
tented with this approximation. We may now make use
of the formula expressing the velocity for solving the chief
problems in this part of the seaman’s task.
And first let it be required to determine the best position Problem I.
of the sail for standing on a given course ab, when CE the To deter-
direction and velocity of the wind, and its angle with the ™ine th^
course WCF, are given. This problem has exercised the t.®sn
talents of the mathematicians ever since the days of New-sai]s for
ton. The best plan of solving this problem will be to place standing
the yard CD in such a position that the tangent of the on a given
angle FCD may be one half of the tangent of the angle course,
DCW. This will indeed be the best position of the sail when the
for beginning the motion ; but as soon as the ship oegins an(1 vej0_
to move in the direction CF, the effective impulse of the city of the
wind is diminished, and also its inclination to the sail. I he wind and
angle DC?# diminishes continually as the ship accelerates ; its angle
for CF is now accompanied by its equal <?E, and by an Wlth the
angle ECe, or WCtt’. CF increases, and the impulse °n g-are
the sail diminishes, till an equilibrium obtains between the b
resistance of the water and the impulse of the wind. The
impulse is now measured by CE2 x sin2eCD instead of CE2
x sin2ECD, that is, by EG2 instead of E^2.
This introduction of the relative motion of the wind ren¬
ders the actual solution of the problem extremely difficult.
It is very easily expressed geometrically : Divide the angle
wC¥ in such a manner that the tangent of DCF may be
half of the tangent of DC?#, and the problem may be con¬
structed geometrically as follows :—
Let WCF (fig. 7) be the angle between the sail and
course. Bound the centre C describe the circle WDFY;
produce WC to Q, so that CQ = ^WC, and draw QY
parallel to CF cutting the circle in Y ; bisect the arch WY
in D, and draw DC. DC is the proper position of the
yard.
Draw the cord WY, cutting CD in V and CF in T;
draw the tangent PD, cutting CF in S and CY in R.
It is evident that WY, PR, are both perpendicular to
CD, and are bisected in V and D ; therefore (by reason of
Seaman¬
ship.
Prob. II.
To deter¬
mine the
course and
trim of the
sails most
proper for
plying to
windward.
Prob. III.
To deter¬
mine the
best course
and trim of
the sails for
getting
away from
a given
line of
coast.
Observa¬
tions on the
preceding
problems.
SEAMANSHIP.
9
the parallels QY,‘CF) 4 : 3 —QYV : CW, =*YW: TW,
HP : SP. Therefore PD :
PS = 2 : 3, and PD : DS =
2:1. Q.E.D. But this
division cannot be made to
the best advantage till the
ship has attained its greatest
velocity, and the angle w
CF has been produced.
We must consider all the
three angles, a, 6, and x, as
variable in the equation
which expresses the value
of and we must make
the fluxion of this equation
= 0; then, by means of the
equation B = A’ cotan 6,
we must obtain the value of b and of b in terms of x and x.
With respect to a, observe, that if we make the angle
WCF=/?, we have p — a + b + x; and p being a constant
quantity, we have a + b + x = 0. Substituting for a, 6, a,
and b, their values in terms of x and x, in the fluxionary
equation = 0, we readily obtain x, and then a and by which
solves the problem.
Let it be required, in the next place, to determine the course
and the trim of the sails mosl. proper for plying to windward.
In fig. 6, draw FP perpendicular to WC. CF is the
motion of the ship; but it is only by the motion PC that
she gains to windward. Now CP is = CF + cosin WCF,
or v • cosin (a + 6 + x). This must be rendered a maximum,
as follows.
By means of the equation which expresses the value of
v and the equation B = A • cotan b, we exterminate the
quantities v and b ; we then take the fluxion of the quantity
into which the expression v‘ cos (a + b + x) is changed by
this operation. Making this fluxion = 0, we get the equa¬
tion which must solve the problem. This equation will
contain the two variable quantities a and x with their
fluxions ; then make the co-efficient of x equal to 0, also
the co-efficient of a equal to 0. This will give two equa¬
tions, which will determine a and x, and from this we get
b=p — a — x.
Should it be required, in the third place, to find the best
course and trim of the sails for getting away from a given
line of coast CM (fig. 6), the process perfectly resembles
this last, which is in fact getting away from a line of coast
which makes a right angle with the wind. Therefore, in
place of the angle WCF, we must substitute the angle
WCMdbWCF. Call this angle e. We must make rcos
(ezizaz±zb+x) a maximum. The analytical process is the
same as the former, only e is here a constant quantity.
These are the three principal problems which can be
solved by means of the knowledge that we have obtained
of the motion of the ship when impelled by an oblique sail,
and therefore making leeway ; and they may be considered
as an abstract of this part of M. Bouguer’s work. We have
only pointed out the process for this solution, and have
even omitted some things taken notice of by M. Bezout
in his very elegant compendium. Our reasons will appear
as we go on. The learned reader will readily see the ex¬
treme difficulty of the subject, and the immense calculations
which are necessary even in the simplest cases, and will
grant that it is out of the power of any but an expert ana¬
lyst to derive any use from them; but the mathematician
can calculate tables for the use of the practical seaman.
Thus he can calculate the best position of the sails for ad¬
vancing in a course of 90° from the wind, and the velocity in
that course ; then for 85°, 80°, 75°, &c. M. Bouguer has
given a table of this kind ; but to avoid the immense diffi¬
culty of the process, he has adapted it to the apparent direc¬
tion of the wind. We have inserted a few of his numbers,
VOL. xx.
suited to such cases as can be of service, namely, when all
the sails draw, or none stand in the way of others. Column
1st is the apparent angle of the wind and course; column
2d is the corresponding angle of the sails and keel; and
column 3d is the apparent angle of the sails and wind.
Seaman¬
ship.
1
w CF
103°53'
99 13
94 25
89 28
84 23
79 06
73 39
68 —
2
DCS
42o30'
40 —
37 30
35 —
32 30
30 —
27 30
25 —
3
it/CD
59 13
56 55
54 28
51 53
49 06
46 09
43 —
M. Bou¬
guer’s table
for finding
the best
position of
the sails for
advancing
in any
course.
In all these numbers we have the tangent of w CD Inutility of
double of the tangent of DCF. The above table will, we th®se cal*
think, be found useful. Column 2 carries the calculation cu atlons•
up to 25°, the angle of the yards with the keel; and al¬
though some modern ships may go beyond this, and brace
their yards up to 23°, we consider 25° a fair average of
what can be effected. Certainly the apparent direction of
the wind is unknown to the seaman till the ship is sailing
with uniform velocity. It is, however, of service to him
to know, for instance, that when the angle of the vanes and
yards is 56°, the yards should be braced up to 37° 30'.
In that case the course would be 94° 25', from the apparent
direction of the wind, that is, with the wind apparently
4° 25' abaft the beam; a good sailing ship in this position,
with the water very smooth and the wind light, may acquire
a velocity even exceeding that of the true wind. But the
mathematician may require that the yards should be braced
up to a smaller angle than is possible.
Let us see whether this restriction in power of bracing up,
arising from necessity, leaves anything in our choice, and
makes one course preferable to another. We see that there
are a prodigious number of courses, and these the most usual
and the most important, which we must hold with one trim
of the sails ; no doubt, sometimes sailing with the wind, even
no further forward than the beam, must be performed with
this unfavourable trim of the sails, as it must be in all cases if
plying to windward. We are certain that the smaller we
make the angle of incidence, real or apparent, the smaller
will be the velocity of the ship; but it may happen that
we shall gain more to windward, or get sooner away from a
lee-coast, or any object of danger, by sailing slowly on one
course than by sailing quickly on another.
We have seen that while the trim of the sails remains
the same, the leeway
and the angle of the
yard and course re¬
mains the same, and
that the velocity of
the ship is as the
sine of the angle of
real incidence, that
is, as the sine of the
angle of the sail and
the real direction of
the wind.
Let the ship AB
(fig. 8) hold the
course CF, with the
wind blowing in the
direction WC, and
having her yards
DCD braced up to ^
the smallest angle ^ Fig- g<
BCD which the rig¬
ging can admit. Let CF be to CE as the velocity of the
10
SEAMANSHIP.
ship to the velocity of the wind; join FE and draw Cw
parallel to EF; it is evident that FE is the relative motion
of the wind, and ?cCD is the relative incidence on the sail.
Draw FO parallel to the yard DC, and describe a circle
through the points COF ; then we say that if the ship,
with the same wind and the same trim of the same draw¬
ing sails, be made to sail on any other course Cf, her velo¬
city along CF is to the velocity along Cf as CF is to Cf;
or, in other words, the ship will employ the same time in
going from C to any point of the circumference CFO.
Join /O. Then, because the angles CFO, C/O are on
the same cord CO, they are equal, and fO is parallel to
dCd, the new position of the yard corresponding to the
new position of the keel ab, making the angle dC6 = DCB.
Also, by the nature of the circle, the line CF is to C^as
the sine of the angle CFO to the sine of the angle COf,
that is (on account of the parallels CD, OF and Cd, Of),
as the sine of WCD to the sine of WCd. But when the
trim of the sails remains the same, the velocity of the ship
is as the sine of the angle of the sail with the direction of
the wind; therefore CF is to Cf as the velocity on CF to
that on Cf and the proposition is demonstrated.
Let it now be required to determine the best course for
mine the avoiding a rock R lying in the direction CR, or for with-
best course drawing as fast as possible from a line of coast PQ. Draw
for avoid- through R, or parallel to PQ, and let m be the middle
mg a roc . o|. tjie jt }s piain that m is the most remote
from CM of any point of the arch CmM, and therefore the
ship will recede farther from the coast PQ. in any given
time, by holding the course C m than by any other course.
This course is easily determined ; for the arch C m M
= 360°—(arch CO + arch OM), and the arch CO is the
measure of twice the angle CFO, or twice the angle DCB,
or twice & + #, and the arch OM measures twice the angle
ECM.
Thus, suppose the sharpest possible trim of the sails to
be 35°, and the observed angle ECM to be 70°; then
CO + OM is 70°+ 140° or 210°. This being taken from
360°, leaves 150°, of which the half Mm is 75°, and the
angle MCm is 37° 30'. This added to ECM makes ECm
170° 30', leaving WCm = 72° 30', and the ship must hold
a course making an angle of 72° 30' with the real direction
of the wind, and WCD will be 37° 30'.
This supposes no leeway. But if we know that under all
the sail which the ship can carry with safety and advantage
she makes 5 degrees of leeway, the angle DCm of the sail
and course, or 6 + #, is 40°. Then CO + OM = 220°, which
being taken from 360°, leaves 140°, of which the half is
70°, = Mm, and the angle MCm = 35°, and ECm= 105, and
WCm = 75°, and the ship must lie with her head 70° from
the wind, making 5 degrees of leeway, and the angle WCD
is 35°.
The general rule for the position of the ship is, that the
line on shipboard which bisects the angle b + x may also
bisect the angle WCM, or make the angle between the
course and the line, from which we wish to withdraw, equal
to the angle between the sail and the real direction of the
wind.
Corollaries. It is plain that this problem includes that of plying to
windward. We have only to suppose ECM to be 90° ;
then, taking our example in the same ship, with the same
trim and the same leeway, we have b + x = ^0°. This taken
from 90° leaves 50°, and WCn = 90—25 = 65, and the ship’s
head must lie 60° from the wind, and the yard must be 25°
from it.
It must be observed here, that it is not always eligible
to select the course which will remove the ship fastest from
the given line CM; it may be more prudent to remove from
it more securely though more slowly. In such cases the
procedure is very simple, viz., to shape the course as near
the wind as is possible.
Seaman¬
ship.
The reader will also easily see that the propriety of these Seaman-
practices is confined to those courses only where the prac- ship-
ticable trim of the sails is not sufficiently sharp. Whenever
the course lies so far from the wind that it is possible to
make the tangent of the apparent angle of the wind and sail
double the tangent of the sail and course, it should be
done.
These are the chief practical consequences which can be The ad-
deduced from the theory. But we should consider how far justment of
this adjustment of the sails and course can be Per^orme(^'gjj6 in
And here occur difficulties so great as to make it almost the^theory1
impracticable. We have always supposed the position ofimpractic-
the surface of the sail to be distinctly observable and mea- able,
surable; but this can be hardly affirmed even with respect
to a sail stretched on a yard. Here we supposed the sur¬
face of the sail to have the same inclination to the keel that
the yard has. This is by no means the case; the sail as¬
sumes a concave form, of which it is almost impossible to
assign the direction of the mean impulse. We believe that
this is always considerably to leeward of a perpendicular to
the yard, lying between Cl and CE (fig. 6). This is of
some advantage, being equivalent to a sharper trim. We
cannot affirm this, however, with any confidence, because
it renders the impulse on the weather-leech of the sail so
exceedingly feeble as hardly to have any effect. In sailing
close to the wind, the ship is k£pt so near that the weather-
leech of the sail is almost ready to receive the wind edge¬
wise, and to flutter or shiver. The most effective or draw¬
ing sails with a side-wind, especially when plying to wind¬
ward, are the trysails. We believe that it is impossible to
say, with anything approaching to precision, what is the
position of the general surface of a staysail, or to calculate
the intensity and direction of the general impulse ; and w’e
affirm with confidence that no man can pronounce on these
points with any exactness. If we can guess within a third
or a fourth part of the truth, it is all we can pretend to;
and after all, it is but a guess. Add to this, the sails com¬
ing in the way of each other, and either becalming them
or sending the wind upon them in a direction widely differ¬
ent from that of its free motion. All these points we think
beyond our power of calculation, and therefore that it is in
vain to give the seaman mathematical rules, or even tables
of adjustment ready calculated; since he can neither pro¬
duce that medium position of his sails that is required, nor
tell what is the position which he employs.
This is one of the principal reasons why so little advan¬
tage has been derived from the very ingenious and promis¬
ing disquisitions of Bouguer and other mathematicians.
We subjoin an abstract of the experiments made by the
Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris. Column 1st gives
the angle of incidence; column 2d gives the impulsions
really observed ; column 3d the impulses, had they fol¬
lowed the duplicate ratio of the sines; and column 4th
the impulses, if they were in the simple ratio of the sines.
Angle of
incid.
Impulsion
observed.
Impulse as
sine.2
Impulse as
sine.
90°
84
78
72
66
60
54
48
42
36
30
24
18
12
6
1000
989
958
908
845
771
693
615
543
480
440
424
414
406
400
1000
989
957
905
835
750
655
552
448
346
250
165
96
43
11
1000
995
978
951
914
866
809
743
669
587
500
407
309
208
105
SEAMANSHIP.
11
Seaman- Here we see an enormous difference in the great obliqui-
ship. ties. When the angle of incidence is only six degrees, the
observed impulse is forty times greater than the theoreti-
The theory cal impulse; at 12° it is ten times greater; at 18 it is more
erroneous, than four times greater; and at 24 it is almost three times
and the de- greater.
dactions Nq won(jer then that the deductions from this theory are
useiess. go useless and so unlike what we familiarly observe. We
took notice of this when we were considering the leeway of
a rectangular box, and thus saw a reason for admitting an
incomparably smaller leeway than what would result fiom
the laborious computations necessary by the theory. This
error in theory has as great an influence on the impulsions
of air when acting obliquely on a sail; and the experiments
of Mr Robins and of the Chevalier Borda, on the oblique
impulsions of air, are perfectly conformable (as far as they
go) to those of the academicians on water. The oblique
impulsions of the wind are therefore much more efficacious
for pressing the ship in the direction of her course than the
theory allows us to suppose ; and the progress of a ship ply¬
ing to windward is much greater, both because the oblique
impulses of the wind are more effective, and because the
leeway is much smaller, than we suppose. Were not this
the case, it would be impossible for a square-rigged ship to
get to windward. The impulse on her sails, when close
hauled, would be so trifling, that she would not have a third
part of the velocity which we see her acquire : and this
trifling velocity would be wasted in leeway ; for we have
seen that the diminution of the oblique impulses of the
water is accompanied by an increase of leeway. But we
see that in the great obliquities the impulsions continue to
be very considerable, and that even an incidence of 6 gives
an impulse as great as the theory allows to an incidence of
40°. We may, therefore, on all occasions keep the yards
more square ; and the loss which we sustain by the diminu¬
tion of the very oblique impulse will be more than compen¬
sated by its more favourable direction with respect to the
ship’s keel. Let us take an example of this. Suppose the
wind about two points before the beam, making an angle
of 68° with the keel. The theory assigns 43° for the in¬
clination of the wind to the sail, and 15° for the trim of the
sail. The perpendicular impulse being supposed 1000,
the theoretical impulse for 45° is 465. This reduced in the
proportion of radius to the sine of 25°, gives the impulse in
the direction of the course only 197.
But if w e ease off the lee-braces till the yard makes an
angle of 50° with the keel, and allows the wind an incL
dence of no more than 18°, we have the experimented im¬
pulse 414, which, when reduced in the proportion of radius
to the sine of 50°, gives an effective impulse 317. In like
manner, the trim 56°, with the incidence 12°, gives an
effective impulse 337; and the trim of 62°, with the inci¬
dence only 6°, gives 353.
Hence it would at first sight appear that the angle DCB
of 62° and WCD of 6° would be better for holding a course
within six points of the wind than any more oblique posi¬
tion of the sails ; but it will only give a greater initial im¬
pulse. As the ship accelerates, the wind apparently comes
ahead, and we must continue to brace up as a ship freshens
her way. It is not unusual for her to acquire half or two-
thirds of the velocity of the wind ; in which case the wind
comes apparently ahead more than two points, when the
yards must be braced up to 35°, and thus allows an impulse
no greater than about 7°. Now, this is very frequently ob¬
served in good ships, which, in a brisk gale and smooth
water, will go five or six knots close-hauled, the ship’s
head six points from the wind, and the sails no more than
iust full, but ready to shiver by the smallest luff. All this
would be impossible by the usual theory ; and in this re¬
spect these experiments of the French Academy give a fine
illustration of the seaman’s practice. They account for
what we should otherwise be much puzzled to explain ; Seaman-
and the great progress which is made by a ship close-hauled ship,
being perfectly agreeable to what we should expect from
the law of oblique impulsions, deducible from these so
often-mentioned experiments, while it is totally incompa¬
tible with the common theory, should make us abandon
the theory without hesitation, and strenuously set about the
establishment of another, founded entirely on experiments.
For this purpose the experiments should be made on the Experi-
oblique impulsions of air, on as great a scale as possible, ments pro-
and in as great a variety of circumstances, so as to furnish
a series of impulsions for all angles of obliquity. We have jng^n.
but four or five experiments on this subject, viz., two by 0ther.
Mr Robins, and two or three by the Chevalier Borda.
Having thus gotten a series of impulsions, it is very prac¬
ticable to raise on this foundation a practical institute, and
to give a table of the velocities of a ship suited to every
angle of inclination and of trim ; for nothing is more cer¬
tain than the resolution of the impulse perpendicular to the
sail into a force in the direction of the keel, and a lateral force.
We are also disposed to think that experiments might
be made on a model very nicely rigged with sails, and
trimmed in every different degree, which would point out
the mean direction of the impulse on the sails, and the
comparative force of these impulses on different directions
of tbe wind. The method would be very similar to that
for examining the impulse of the water on the hull. If this
can also be ascertained experimentally, the intelligent
reader will easily see that the whole motion of a ship under
sail may be determined for every case. Tables may then
be constructed by calculation, or by graphical operations,
which will give the velocities of a ship in every different
course, and corresponding to every trim of sail. And let
it be here observed, that the trim of the sail is not to be
estimated in degrees of inclination of the yards ; because,
as we have already remarked, we cannot observe nor ad¬
just the fore and aft sails in this way. But, in making the
experiments for ascertaining the impulse, the exact position
of the tacks and sheets of the sails are to be noted ; and
this combination of adjustments is to pass by the name of
a certain trim. Thus that trim of all the sails may be
called 40, whose direction is experimentally found equiva¬
lent to a flat surface trimmed to the obliquity 40°.
Having done this, we may construct a figure for each
trim similar to fig. 8, where, instead of a circle, we shall
have a curve COM'F', whose cords CF', cf, &c., are pro¬
portional to the velocities in these courses ; and by means
of this curve we can find the point m, which is most
remote from any line CM from which we wish to withdraw ;
and thus we may solve all the principal problems of the art.
We hope that it will not be accounted presumption in
us to expect more improvement from a theory founded on
judicious experiments only, than from a theory of the im¬
pulse of fluids, which is found so inconsistent with obser¬
vation, and of whose fallacy all its authors, from Newton
to D’Alembert, entertained strong suspicions.
With those observations we conclude our discussion of
the first part of the seaman’s task, and now proceed to con¬
sider the means that are employed to prevent or to produce
any deviations from the uniform rectilineal course which
has been selected.
Here the ship is to be considered as a body in free space, Means em-
convertible round her centre of inertia. For whatever may
be the point round which she turns, this motion may al- jj^uce
ways be considered as compounded of a rotation round an deviations
axis passing through her centre of gravity or inertia. She from a
is impelled by the wind and by the water acting on many course,
surfaces differently inclined to each other, and the impulse
on each is perpendicular to the surface. In order, there¬
fore, that she may continue steadily in one course, it is not
only necessary that the impelling forces, estimated in their
12
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
Impulses
on a ship
sailing
right be¬
fore the
wind dif¬
ferent from
those on
her when
sailing
obliquely.
mean direction, be equal and opposite to the resisting forces
estimated in their mean direction; but also that these two
directions may pass through one point, otherwise she will
be affected as a log of wood is when pushed in opposite
directions bv two forces, which are equal indeed, but are
applied to different parts of the log. A ship must be con¬
sidered as a lever, acted on in different parts by forces in
different directions, and the whole balancing each other
round that point or axis where the equivalent of all the
resisting forces passes. This may be considered as a point
supported by this resisting force and as a sort of fulcrum ;
therefore, in order that the ship may maintain her position,
the energies or momerla of all the impelling forces round
this point must balance each other.
When a ship sails right afore the wind, with her yards
square, it is evident that the impulses on each side of the
keel are equal, as also their mechanical momenta round any
axis passing perpendicularly through the keel. So are the
actions of the water on her bows. But when she sails on
an oblique course, with her yards braced on either side, she
sustains a pressure in the direction Cl (fig. 5) perpendicular
to the sail. This, by giving her a lateral pressure LI, as
well as a pressure CL ahead, causes her to make leeway,
and to move in a line C6 inclined to CB. By this means
the balance of action on the two bows is destroyed, the
general impulse on the lee-bow is increased, and that on
the weather-bow is diminished. The combined impulse
is therefore no longer in the direction BC, but (in the state
of uniform motion) in the direction IC.
Suppose that in an instant the whole sails are annihilated
and the impelling pressure Cl, which precisely balanced
the resisting pressure on her bows, removed. The ship
tends, by her inertia, to proceed in the direction Qb. This
tendency produces a continuation of the resistance in the
opposite direction IC, which is not directly opposed to the
tendency of the ship in the direction C£>; therefore the
ship’s head would immediately come up to the wind. The
experienced seaman will recollect something like this when
the sails are suddenly lowered when coming to anchor. It
does not happen solely from the obliquity of the action on
the bows. It would happen to the parallelepiped of fig. 2,
which was sustaining a lateral impulsion B'sin2#, and a
direct impulsion A' cos2a\ These are continued for a mo¬
ment after the annihilation of the sail; but being no longer
opposed by a force in the direction CD, but by a force in
the direction C6, the force B-sin2# must prevail, and the
body is not only retarded in its motion, but its head turns
towards the wind. But this effect of the leeway is greatly
increased by the curved form of the ship’s bows. 1 his
occasions the centre of effort of all the impulsions of the
water on the leeside of the ship to be very far forward, and
this so much the more remarkably as she is sharper afore.
It is in general not much abaft the foremast. Now the
centre of the ship’s tendency to continue her motion is the
same with her centre of gravity, and this is generally but
a little before the mainmast. She is therefore in the same
condition nearly as if she were pushed at the mainmast in
a direction parallel to C6, and at the foremast by a force
parallel to IC. The evident consequence of this is a ten¬
dency to come up to the wind. This is independent of all
situation of the sails, provided only that they have been
trimmed obliquely.
In the generality of ships sailing in smooth water, there
is a tendency in their heads to approach the wind,
which must be counteracted by keeping the helm a
little a-weather. This tendency is greatest in ships
that are sharp forward. This circumstance is easily under¬
stood. Whatever is the direction of the ship’s motion, the
absolute impulse on that part of the bow immediately con-
titzuous to B is perpendicular to that very part of the
surface. The more acute, therefore, that the angle of the
Fig. 9.
bow is, the more will the impulse on that part be perpendi¬
cular to the keel, and the greater will be its energy to turn
the head to windward.
Thus we are enabled to understand or to see the pro¬
priety of the disposition of the sails of a ship. We see
her crowded with sails forward, and even many sails ex¬
tended far before her bow, such as the fore-topmast stay¬
sail, the jib, and flying jib. The sails abaft are compara¬
tively smaller. Lhe sails on the mizenmast aie much
smaller than those on the foremast. All the staysails
hoisted on the mainmast may be considered as headsails,
because their centres of effort are considerably before the
centre of gravity of the ship ; and notwithstanding this
disposition, it generally requires a small action of the
rudder to counteract the windward tendency of the lee-
bow. This is considered as a good quality when moderate,
because it enables the seaman to throw the sails aback, and
stop the ship’s way in a moment, if she be in danger from
anything ahead ; and the ship which does not carry a little
of a weather helm is always a dull sailer.
In order to judge somewhat more accurately of the
action of the water and sails, suppose the ship A6 (fig. 9)
to have its sails on the mizen- . ,-T
mast D, the mainmast E, and
the foremast F, braced up or
trimmed alike, and the three
lines D i, E e, F/, perpendicu¬
lar to the sails, are in the pro¬
portion of the impulses on the
sails. The ship is driven a-
head and to leeward, and moves in the path aCb. This
path is so inclined to the line of the keel, that the medium
direction of the resistance of the water is parallel to the
direction of the impulse. A line Cl may be drawn paral¬
lel to the lines D i, Ee, F/, and equal to their sum ; and
it may be drawn from such a point C, that the actions on
all the parts of the hull between C and B may balance the
momenta of all the actions on the hull between C and A.
This point may justly be called the centre of effort, or the
centre of resistance. We cannot determine this point for
want of a proper theory of the resistance of fluids. Nay,
although experiments like those of the Parisian Academy
should give us the most perfect knowledge of the intensity
of the oblique impulses on a square foot, we should hardly
be benefited by them ; for the action of the water on a
square foot of the hull p, for instance, is so modified by
the intervention of the stream of water which has struck
the hull about B, and glided along the bow E op, that the
pressure on p is totally different from what it would have
been were it a square foot or surface detached from the
rest, and presented in the same position to the water mov¬
ing in the direction bC. For it is found, that the resistances
given to planes joined so as to form a wedge, or to curved
surfaces, are widely different from the accumulated resist¬
ances calculated for their separate parts, agreeably to the
experiments of the academy on single surfaces. We
therefore do not attempt to ascertain the point C by theory ;
but it may be accurately determined by the experiments
which we have so strongly recommended, and we offer this
as an additional inducement for prosecuting them.
Draw through C a line perpendicular to Cl, that is, par¬
allel to the sails; and let the lines of impulse of the three
sails cut in the points i, k, and m. This line i m may be
considered as a lever, moveable round C, and acted on at
the points i, k, and m, by three forces. The rotatory mo¬
mentum of the sails on the mizenmast is D « x e C ; that of
the sails on the mainmast is E e x £ C ; and the momen¬
tum of the sails on the foremast is F/x m C. The two first
tend to press forward the arm C i, and then to turn the ship’s
head towards the wind. The action of the sails on the fore¬
mast tends to pull the arm C m forward, and produce a
Seaman¬
ship.
Propriety
of the dis¬
position of
the sails of
a ship.
Action of
the water
and the
sails.
Centre of
effort.
To be de¬
termined
by experi¬
ments.
Seaman¬
ship.
Equili¬
brium pre¬
served by
the posi¬
tion of the
sails.
Conse¬
quence of
destroying
it.
S E A M A
contrary rotation. If the ship under these three sails keeps
steadily in her course, without the aid of the rudder, we
must have D« x t'C + Eex ^C = Fyx mC. This is
very possible, and is often seen in a ship under her mizen-
topsail, main-topsail, and fore-topsail, all parallel to one
another, and their surfaces duly proportioned by reefing.
If more sails are set, we must always have a similar equili¬
brium. A certain number of them will have their efforts
directed from the larboard arm of the lever i m lying to
leeward of Cl, and a certain number will have their efforts
directed from the starboard arm lying to windward of Cl.
The sum of the products of each of the first set, by their
distances from C, must be equal to the sum of the similar
products of the other set. As this equilibrium is all that is
necessary for preserving the ship’s position, and the cessation
of it is immediately followed by a conversion ; and as these
states of the ship may be had by means of the three square
sails only, when their surfaces are properly proportioned, it
is plain that every movement may be executed and ex¬
plained by their means. This will greatly simplify our
future discussions. We shall therefore suppose in future
that there are only the three topsails set, and that their
surfaces are so adjusted by reefing, that their actions exactly
balance each other round that point C of the middle line
AB, where the actions of the water on the different parts
of the ship’s bottom in like manner balance each other. This
point C may be differently situated in the ship according to
the leeway she makes, depending on the trim of the sails;
and, therefore, although a certain proportion of the three
surfaces may balance each other in one state of leeway, they
may happen not to do so in another state. But the equili¬
brium is evidently attainable in every case, and we there¬
fore shall always suppose it.
It must now be observed, that when this equilibrium is
destroyed, as, for example, by turning the edge of the
mizen-topsail to the wind, which the seamen call shivering
the mizen-topsail, and which may be considered as equiva¬
lent to the removing the mizen-topsail entirely, it does not
follow that the ship will turn round the point C, this point
remaining fixed. The ship must be considered as a free
body, still acted on by a number of forces, which no longer
balance each other; and she must therefore begin to turn
round a spontaneous axis of conversion, which must be de¬
termined in the way set forth in the article Rotation. It
is of importance to point out in general where this axis is
situated. Therefore let G
(fig. 10) be the centre of
gravity of the ship. Draw
the line qG v parallel to the
yards, cutting D in Ee
in r, Cl in t, and F/ in v.
While the three sails are set,
the line q v may be consi¬
dered as a lever acted on by
four forces, viz., Dd, impel¬
ling the lever forward perpendicularly in the point q;
Ee, impelling it forward in the point r; F/, impelling it for¬
ward in the point v ; and Cl, impelling it backward in the
point t. These forces balance each other both in respect
of progressive motion and of rotatory energy; for Cl was
taken equal to the sum of Dr/, Ee, and F/T so that no ac¬
celeration or retardation of the ship’s progress in her course
is supposed.
But by taking away the mizen-topsail, both the equili¬
briums are destroyed. A part De? of the accelerating force
is taken away; and yet the ship, by her inertia or inherent
force, tends, for a moment, to proceed in the direction Cp
with her former velocity: and by this tendency exerts for
a moment the same pressure Cl on the water, and sustains
the same resistance IC. She must therefore be retarded in
her motion by the excess of the resistance IC over the re-
N S H I P.
13
maining impelling forces Ee and F/; that is, by a force equal Seaman-
and opposite to Dd She will therefore be retarded in the shiP*
same manner as if the mizen-topsail were still set, and a
force equal and opposite to its action were applied to G, the
centre of gravity, and she would soon acquire a smaller
velocity, which would again bring all things into equilibrium;
and she would stand on in the same course, without chang¬
ing either her leeway or the position of her head.
But the equilibrium of the lever is also destroyed. It is
now acted on by three forces only, viz., Ee and F/, impelling
it forward in the points r and v, and IC impelling it back¬
ward in the point t. Make ru:/,o = Ee + F/’: 1^, and make
op parallel to Cl and equal to Ee+F/. Then we know,
from the common principles of mechanics, that the force o p
acting at o will have the same momentum or energy to turn
the lever round any point whatever as the two forces Ee
and Ff applied at r and v; and now the lever is acted on by
two forces, viz., IC, urging it backwards in the point t, and
o p urging it forwards in the point 0. It must therefore
turn round like a floating log, which gets two blows in op¬
posite directions. If we now make IC—op 0p = t o: t x,
or IC—0 p '.\C = t o : o x, and apply to the point x a force
equal to IC—op in the direction IC ; we know by the com¬
mon principles of mechanics, that this force IC—0 p will
produce the same rotation round any point as the two forces
IC and o p applied in their proper directions at t and 0. Let
us examine the situation of the point x.
The force IC—op is evidently = D <f, and op is = Ee +
Ff. Therefore o t: t x = T> dop. But because, when all
the sails were filled, there was an equilibrium round C, and
therefore round t, and because the force o p acting at 0 is
equivalent to E e and Ff acting at r and v, we must still
have the equilibrium; and therefore we have the momentum
Y)d'xqt = opx.ot. Therefore o t x t q =T) d: op, and t q
= tx. Therefore the point x is the same with the point q.
Therefore, when we shiver the mizen-topsail, the rotation By shiver-
of the ship is the same as if the ship were at rest, and if a ing the
force equal and opposite to the action of the mizen-topsaii tnizen-top-
were applied at q or at D, or any point on the line D q. sai1.
This might have been shown in another and shorter way.
Suppose all sails filled, the ship is in equilibrio. This will
be disturbed by applying to D a force opposite to D e?; and
if the force be also equal to D d, it is evident that these two
forces destroy each other, and that this application of the
force is equivalent to the taking away of the mizen-top¬
sail. But we chose to give the whole mechanical investi¬
gation ; because it gave us an opportunity of pointing out
to the reader, in a case of very easy comprehension, the
precise manner in which the ship is acted on by the differ¬
ent sails and by the water, and what share each of them
has in the motion ultimately produced. We shall not re¬
peat this manner of procedure in other cases, because a little
reflection on the part of the reader will now enable him to
trace the modus operandi through all its steps.
We now see that, in respect both of progressive motion
and of conversion, the ship is affected by shivering the sail
D, in the same manner as if a force equal and opposite to
D d were applied at D, or at any point in the line D d.
Let p represent a particle of matter, r its radius vec¬
tor, or its distance p G from an axis passing through the
centre of gravity G, and let M represent the whole quantity
of matter of the ship. Then its momentum of inertia
is =y'p-r2. The ship, impelled in the point D by a force in
the direction dT>, will begin to turn round a spontaneous
vertical axis, passing through a point S of the line q G,
which is drawn through the centre of gravity G, perpendi¬
cular to the direction dG of the external force, and
the distance GS of this axis from the centre of gravity
is = fp-r2
-, and it is taken on the opposite side of G from <7,
M'G<7
that is, S and q are on opposite sides of G.
14
SEAMANSHIP.
Fig. 11.
Seaman- Let us express the external force by the symbol F. It
ship. is equivalent to a certain number of pounds, being the pres-
sure of the wind moving with the velocity V and inclination
a on the surface of the sail D ; and may therefore be com¬
puted either by the theoretical or experimental law of ob¬
lique impulses. Having obtained this, we can ascertain the
angular velocity of the rotation and the absolute velocity of
any given point of the ship by means of the theorems
established in the article Rotation.
Action of But before we proceed to this investigation, we shall con-
the rudder, sider the action of the rudder, which operates precisely in
the same manner. Let the ship AB (fig. 11) have her
rudder in the position AD,
the helm being hard a-star¬
board, while the ship sailing
on the starboard tack, and
making leewaj^, keeps on
the course « 6. The lee sur-
faceof the rudder meets the
water obliquely. The very
foot of the rudder meets it in the direction DE parallel to a b.
The parts farther up meet it with various obliquities, and with
various velocities, as it glides round the bottom of the ship
and falls into the wake. It is absolutely impossible to cal¬
culate the accumulated impulse. We shall not be far mis¬
taken in the deflection of each contiguous filament, as it
quits the bottom and glides along the rudder; but we
neither know the velocity of these filaments, nor the deflec¬
tion and velocity of the filaments gliding without them. We
therefore imagine that all computations on the subject are
in vain. But it is enough for our purpose that we know
the direction of the absolute pressure which they exert on
its surface. It is in the direction D d, perpendicular to that
surface. We also may be confident that this pressure is
very considerable, in proportion to the action of the water
on the ship’s bows, or of the wind on the sails ; and we may
suppose it to be nearly in the proportion of the square of
the velocity of the ship in her course ; but we cannot affirm
it to be accurately in that proportion, for reasons that will
readily occur to one who considers the way in which the
water falls in behind the ship.
Greatest in ft is observed, however, that a fine sailer always steers
a fine sail- well, and that all movements by means of the rudder are per-
er* formed with great rapidity when the velocity of the ship is
great. We shall see by and by, that the speed with which
the ship performs the angular movements is in the propor¬
tion of her progressive velocity: for we shall see that the
squares of the times of performing the revolution are as the
impulses inversely, which are as the squares of the veloci¬
ties. There is perhaps no force which acts on a ship that
can be more accurately determined by experiment than this.
Let the ship ride in a stream or tideway whose velocity is
accurately measured; and let her ride from two moorings,
so that her bow may be a fixed point. Let a small tow line
be laid out from her stern or quarter at right angles to the
keel, and connected with some apparatus fitted up on shore
or on board another ship, by which the strain on it may be
accurately measured; a person conversant with mechanics
How to de- will see many ways in which this can be done. Perhaps
termine it. the following may be as good as any: let the end of the
tow-line be fixed to some point as high out of the water as
the point of the ship from which it is given out, and let this
be very high. Let a block with a hook be on the rope, and
a considerable weight hung on this hook. Things being
thus prepared, put down the helm to a certain angle, so as
to cause the ship to sheer off from the point to which the
far end of the tow-line is attached. This will stretch the
rope, and raise the weight out of the water. Now heave
upon the rope, to bring the ship back again to her former
position, With her keel in the direction of the stream. When
this position is attained, note carefully the form of the rope,
that is, the angle which its two parts make with the horizon. Seaman-
Call this angle a. Every person acquainted with these ship,
subjects knows that the horizontal strain is equal to half the
weight multiplied by the cotangent of a, or that 2 is to the
cotangent of a as the weight to the horizontal strain. Now
it is this strain which balances, and therefore measures the
action of the rudder, or D e in fig. 11. Therefore, to have
the absolute impulse Dr/, we must increase D e in the pro¬
portion of radius to the secant of the angle b, which the
rudder makes with the keel. In a great ship sailing six
miles in an hour, the impulse on the rudder inclined 30° to
the keel is not less than 3000 pounds. The surface of the
rudder of such a ship contains nearly 80 square feet. It is not,
however, very necessary to know this absolute impulse Dr/,
because it is its parts D e alone which measure the energy
of the rudder in producing a conversion. Such experi¬
ments, made with various positions of the rudder, will give
its energies corresponding to these positions, and will settle
that long disputed point, which is the best position for turn¬
ing a ship. On the hypothesis that the impulsions of fluids
are in the duplicate ratio of the sines of incidence, there can
be no doubt that it should make an angle of 54° 44' with
the keel, being about the angle with the keel that the rud¬
der can be put over in modern ships; the angle of maxi¬
mum effect assigned by theory.
A ship misses stays in rough weather for want of a suffi- Why a ship
cient progressive velocity, and because her bows are beat misses
off by the waves ; and there is seldom any difficulty in wear- Btays> &c*
ing the ship, if she has any progressive motion. It is, how¬
ever, always desirable to give the rudder as much influence
as possible. Its surface should be enlarged (especially be¬
low) as much as can be done consistently with its strength,
and with the power of the steersman to manage it; and it
should be put in the most favourable situation for the water
to get at it with great velocity ; and it should be placed as
far from the axis of the ship’s motion as possible. In order
to ascertain the motion produced by the action of the rudder,
draw from the centre of gravity a line G q perpendicular to
T)d (Dc/ being drawn through the centre of effort of the
rudder). Then, as in the consideration of the action of the
sails, we may conceive the line as a lever connected with
the ship, and impelled by a force Dr/ acting perpendicularly
at q. The consequence of this will be, an incipient conver¬
sion of the ship about a vertical axis passing through some
point S in the line 9G, lying on .the other side of G from q ;
JEf.
and we have, as in the former case ,GS
M-G<?
Thus the action and effects of the sails and of the rudder The action
are perfectly similar, and are to be considered in the same rud-
manner. We see that the action of the rudder, though °fto that ofT
a small surface in comparison of the sails, must be very the sails
great: for the impulse of water is many hundred times and very
greater than that of the wind ; and the arm g'G of the lever, great,
by which it acts, is incomparably greater than that by which
any of the impulsions on the sails produces its effect; ac¬
cordingly, the ship yields much more rapidly to its action
than she does to the lateral impulse of a sail.
Observe here, that if G were a fixed or supported axis,
it would be the same thing whether the absolute force Dc/
of the rudder acts in the direction Do?, or its transverse parts
De act in the direction De, both would produce the same
rotation; but it is not so in a free body. The force Do?
both tends to retard the ship’s motion and to produce a
rotation: it retards it as much as if the same force Do?
had been immediately applied to the centre. And thus
the real motion of the ship is compounded of a motion
of the centre in a direction parallel to Dc?, and of a mo¬
tion round the centre. These two constitute the motion
round S.
As the effects of the action of the rudder are both more
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
Employed
as an ex¬
ample of
the motions
of conver¬
sion.
Angular
velocity.
remarkable and somewhat more simple than those of the
sails, we shall employ them as an example of the mechanism
of the motions of conversion in general ; and as we must
content ourselves, in a work like this, with what is very
general, we shall simplify the investigation by attending
only to the motion of conversion. We can get an accurate
notion of the whole motion, if wanted for any purpose, by
combining the progressive or retrograde motion parallel to
T)d with the motion of rotation which we are about to de¬
termine.
In this case, then, we observe, in the first place, that the
angular velocity is > ant^ as was shown in Rota¬
tion, this velocity of rotation increases in the proportion
of the time of the forces’ uniform action, and the rotation
would be uniformly accelerated if the forces did really act
uniformly. This, however, cannot be the case, because, by
the ship’s change of position and change of progressive
velocity, the direction and intensity of the impelling force
is continually changing. But if two ships are performing
similar evolutions, it is obvious that the changes of force are
similar in similar parts of the evolution. Therefore the con¬
sideration of the momentary evolution is sufficient for en¬
abling us to compare the motions of ships actuated by
similar forces, which is all we have in view at present.
The velocity v, generated in any time t by the continuance
of an invariable momentary acceleration (which is all that
we mean by saying that it is produced by the action of a
constant accelerating force), is as the acceleration and the
time jointly. Now, what we call the angular velocity is
nothing but this momentary acceleration. Therefore the
velocity v, generated in the time t,
fPr
The expression of the angular velocity is also the ex¬
pression of the velocity v of a point situated at the distance
1 from the axis G.
Let z be the space or arch of revolution described in
the time t by this point, whose distance from G is =1.
Then z = vt = i, and taking the fluent
1 his arch measures the whole angle of rotation accom¬
plished in the time t. These are, therefore, as the squares
of the times from the beginning of the rotation.
Those evolutions are equal which are measured by equal
arches. Thus two motions of 45 degrees each are* equal.
Therefore because z is the same in both, the quantity
F ?G2.
j'py.'i ^ 18 a constant quantity, and <2 is reciprocally pro-
15
portional to—r ^ -, or is proportional to
Pr F • gG
and t
proportional to
\/fprl
That is to say, the times of the
\/F . qG
similar evolutions of two ships are as the square root of the
momentum of inertia directly, and as the square root of the
momentum of the rudder or sail inversely. This will enable
us to make the comparison easily. Let us suppose the ships
perfectly similar in form and rigging, and to differ only in
length L and /; J'F * R2 is to fpr2 as L5 to l\ For the
similar particles P and p contain quantities of matter which
are as the cubes of their lineal dimensions ; that is, as L3 to
And because the particles are similarly situated, R2 is
to r2 as L2 to l2. Therefore F • W :p r =lj‘: l\ Now F
is to/as L2 to l2. For the surfaces of the similar rudders
or sads are as the squares of their lineal dimensions ; that is,
as L to l2. And lastly, G^ is to gq as L to l, and there-
Ibre F • Gq '.f'gq^G2, : /3. Therefore we have T2 : t2 =
/P * R2 /P ' ^ L5 /5 T 9 , Seaman-
F~rG7: /.^? ~I7:and T:/=L:/-
Therefore the times of performing similar evolutions with Times of
similar ships are proportional to the lengths of the ships similar
when both are sailing equally fast; and since the evolu- evolutions
tions are similar, and the forces vary similarly in their dif- with ®lmi*
ferent parts, what is here demonstrated of the smallest ar 8 li)8’
incipient evolutions is true of the whole. They therefore
not only describe equal angles of revolution, but also simi¬
lar curves.
A small ship, therefore, works in less time and in less
room than a great ship, and this in the proportion of its
length. I his is a great advantage in all cases, particularly
in wearing, in order to sail on the other tack close-hauled.
In this case she will always be to windward and ahead of
the large ship, when both are got on the other tack. It
would appear at first sight that the large ship will have the
advantage in tacking. Indeed the large ship is farther to
windward when again trimmed on the other tack than the
small ship when she is just trimmed on the other tack. But
this happened before the large ship had completed her evo¬
lution, and the small ship, in the meantime, has been going
forward on the other tack, and going to windward. She
will therefore be before the large ship’s beam, and perhaps
as far to windward.
We have seen that the velocity of rotation is propor¬
tional, cceteris paribus, to F x Gq. F means the abso¬
lute impulse on the rudder or sail, and is always perpendi¬
cular to its surface. This absolute impulse on a sail de¬
pends on the obliquity of the wind to its surface. The
usual theory says, that it is as the square of the sine of in¬
cidence ; but we find this not true. We must content our¬
selves with caressing it by some as yet unknown function
<p of the angle of incidence a, and call it q>a ; and if S be
the surface of the sail, and V the velocity of the wind, the
absolute impulse is «V2S x <Pa. This acts (in the case of
the mizen-topsail, fig. 10) by the lever ^G, which is equal
to DG x cos DG<7, and DG^ is equal to the angle of the
yard and keel; which angle we formerly called b. There¬
fore its energy in producing a rotation is «V2S x (pa x DG x
cos b. Leaving out the constant quantities n, V2, S, and
DG, its energy is proportional to Pa x cos b. In order,
therefore, that any sail may have the greatest power to
produce a rotation round G, it must be so trimmed that
pa x cos b may be a maximum. Thus, if we would trim
the sails on the foremast, so as to pay the ship off from the
wind right ahead with the greatest effect, and if we take
the experiments of the French academicians as proper
measures of the oblique impulses of the wind on the sail,
we will brace up the yard to angle of 48° with the keel.
The impulse corresponding to 48° is 615, and the cosine
of 48° is 669. These give a product of dlLdSS. If we
brace the sail to 54'44, the angle assigned by the theory,
the effective impulse is 405*274. If we make the angle
45°, the impulse is 408*774. It appears then that 48° is
preferable to either of the others. But the difference is in¬
considerable, as in all cases of maximum a small deviation
from the best position is not very detrimental. But the
difference between the theory and this experimental mea¬
sure will be very great when the impulses of the wind are
of necessity very oblique. Thus, in tacking ship, as soon
as the headsails are taken aback, they serve to aid the evo¬
lution, as is evident. But if we were now to adopt the
maxim inculcated by the theory, we should immediately
round in the foreweather braces, so as to increase the im¬
pulse on the sail, because it is then very small; and al¬
though we by this means make the yard more square, and
therefore diminish the rotatory momentum of this impulse,
yet the impulse is more increased (by the theory) than its
vertical lever is diminished. Let us examine this a little
16
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
A nice
point of
seaman¬
ship.
more particularly, because it is reckoned one of the nicest
points of seamanship to aid the ship’s coming round by
means of the headsails ; and experienced seamen differ in
their practice in this manoeuvre. Suppose the fore-yard
braced up to 40°, the sail shivers, and from letting go the
head bow-lines the sail immediately takes aback, and in a
moment we may suppose an incidence of 6 degrees. The
impulse corresponding to this is 400 (by experiment), and
the cosine of 40° is 766. This gives 306-400 for the effec¬
tive impulse. To proceed according to the theory, we
should brace the yard to 70°, which would give the wind
(now 34° on the weather-bow) an incidence of nearly 36°,
and the sail an inclination of 20° to the intended motion,
which is perpendicular to the keel. For the tangent of
20° is about i of the tangent of 36°. Let us now see what
effective impulse the experimental law of oblique impul¬
sions will give for this adjustment of the sails. The ex¬
perimental impulse for 36° is 480; the cosine of 70° is
342; the product is 164-160, not much exceeding the
half of the former. Nay, the impulse for 36°, calculated
by the theory, would have been only 346, and the effective
impulse only 118*332. And it must be farther observed, that
this theoretical adjustment would tend greatly to check the
evolution, and in most cases would entirely mar it, by check¬
ing the ship’s motion ahead, and consequently the action of
the rudder, which is the most powerful agent in the evolution;
for here would be a great impulse directed almost astern.
We were justifiable, therefore, in saying, in the be¬
ginning of this article, that a seaman would frequently find
himself baffled if he were to work a ship according to the
rules deduced from M. Bouguer’s work ; and we see by this
instance of what importance it is to have the oblique impul¬
sions of fluids ascertained experimentally. The practice of
the most experienced seamen is directly the opposite to this
theoretical maxim, and its success greatly confirms the use¬
fulness of these experiments of the academicians so often
praised by us.
We return again to the general consideration of the ro-
F * 0
tatory motion. We found the velocity V = ~J^T'
It is
therefore proportional, cceteris paribus, to qG. We have
seen in what manner qG depends on the position and situa¬
tion of the sail or rudder when the point G is fixed. But
it also depends on the position of G. With respect to the
action of the rudder, it is evident that it is so much the
more powerful, as it is more remote from G. The distance
from G may be increased either by moving the rudder far¬
ther aft or G farther forward. And as it is of the utmost
importance that a ship answer her helm with the greatest
promptitude, those circumstances have been attended to
which distinguished fine steering ships from such as had not
this quality ; and it is in a great measure to be ascribed to
this, that, in the gradual improvement of naval architecture,
the centre of gravity has been placed far forward. Perhaps
the notion of a centre of gravity did not come into the
thoughts of the rude builders in early times; but they ob¬
served that those boats and ships steered best which had
their extreme breadth before the middle point, and conse¬
quently the bows not so acute as the stern. This is so con¬
trary to what one would expect, that it attracted attention
$ more forcibly ; and, being somewhat mysterious, it might
prompt to attempts of improvement, by exceeding in this
singular maxim. We believe that it has been carried as far
as is compatible with other essential requisites in a ship.
We believe that this is the chief circumstance in what is
called the trim of a ship; and it were greatly to be wished
that the best place for the centre of gravity could be accu¬
rately ascertained. A practice prevails, which is the oppo¬
site of what we are now advancing. It is usual to load a ship
so that her keel is not horizontal, but lower abaft. This is
found to improve her steerage. The reason of this is ob- Seaman-
vious. It increases the acting surface of the rudder, and ship,
allows the water to come at it with much greater freedom
and regularity; and it generally diminishes the griping of’Of import-
the ship forward, by removing a part of the bows out of the ance t0 de-
water. It has not always this effect; for the form of the termine th®
ship’s bow is sometimes such, that the tendency to gripe
is diminished by immersing more of the bow in the water. centre 0f
But waiving these circumstances, and attending only to gravity,
the rotatory energy of the rudder, we see that it is of ad¬
vantage to carry the centre of gravity forward. The same
advantage is gained to the action of the after-sails. But,
on the other hand, the action of the headsails is diminished
by it; and we may call every sail a headsail whose centre
of gravity is before the centre of gravity of the ship; that
is, all the sails hoisted on the bowsprit and foremast, and
the staysails hoisted on the mainmast; for the centre of
gravity is seldom far before the mainmast.
Suppose that when the rudder is put into the position
AD (fig. 11), the centre of gravity could be shifted to g,
so as to increase qG, and that this is done without increas¬
ing the sum of the products pr1. It is obvious that the
velocity of conversion will be increased in the proportion of
qG to qg. This is very possible, by bringing to that side
of the ship parts of her loading which were situated at a dis¬
tance from G on the other side. Nay, we can make this
change in such a manner that for1 shall even be less than
it was before, by taking care that everything which we shift
shall be nearer to g than it was formerly to G. Suppose it
all placed in one spot m, and that m is the quantity of mat¬
ter so shifted, while M is the quantity of matter in the whole
ship. It is only necessary that m'^G2 shall be less than
the sum of the products pr1, corresponding to the matter
which has been shifted. Now, although the matter which
is easily moveable is generally very small in comparison to
the whole matter of the ship, and therefore can make but a
small change in the place of the centre of gravity, it may
frequently be brought from places so remote that it may
occasion a very sensible diminution of the quantity Jpr1,
which expresses the whole momentum of inertia.
This explains a practice of the seamen in small wherries A practice
or skiffs, who, in putting about, are accustomed to place
themselves to leeward of the mast. They even find that aboufex-*
they can aid the quick motions of these light boats by the plained,
way in which they rest on their two feet, sometimes leaning
on one foot, and sometimes on the other. And we have
often seen this evolution very sensibly accelerated in a ship
of war, by the crew running suddenly, as the helm is put
down, to the lee-bow. And we have heard it asserted by
very expert seamen, that after all attempts to wear ship
(after lying-to in a storm) have failed, they have succeeded
by the crew collecting themselves near the weather fore¬
shrouds the moment the helm was put down. It must be
agreeable to the reflecting seaman to see this practice sup¬
ported by undoubted mechanical principles.
It will appear paradoxical to say that the evolution may The evolu-
be accelerated even by an addition of matter to the ship ; ^on^accele-
and though it is only a piece of curiosity, our readers may additional
wish to be made sensible of it. Let m be the addition, matter.
placed in some point m lying beyond G from q. Let S be
the spontaneous centre of conversion before the addition.
Let v be the velocity of rotation round g, that is, the velo¬
city of a point whose distance from g is 1, and let p be the
radius vector, or distance of a particle from g. We have
 5. But we know that fpp* = fpr2 + M’Gg\
Jpp2 + m • mg2 Jrr J1 *
Therefore v = -~—t—. ^ ^ Let us determine
fpr2 + M‘Gy2 + nr mg2
Gg and mg and qg.
Let mG be called z. Then, by the nature of the centre
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- „ . AT
ship. °‘ gravity, M + m: M = Gm: ym = z: gm, and gm = ^ 
, . M + mz,
?wM2
and m • gnr = ^ mfz ’ In manner, M * G^2 =
Mm2
vf-—\iZ^• Now mW2 + m2M = Mm x M -f m. Therefore
M + m J
Mmx(M + »i) Mm
M-G^ + »»-^ = —M + m)2 Let u
1)e = MTm’ then M ‘ G-92 + ”1 = M/2Z2. Also
T 7/1
= wz, being = ^ + ^z. Let^G be called c: then cjg — c + nz.
Also let SG be called e.
We have now for the expression of the velocity v —
¥(c + nz) ¥ c + nz _ /nr2
fpr1 + Mnz2' 01 ^ /pr^~; Ut
= ce.
Therefore, finally, v =
M
e+
M^ce + wz2* Hatl there been no
addition of matter made, we should have had u = x .
M ce
It remains to show, that z may be so taken that — may
be less than ce nz2' Now, if c be to z as ce to z2,
that is, if z be taken equal to e, the two fractions will
be equal. But if z be less than e, that is, if the addi¬
tional matter is placed anywhere between S and G, the
complex fraction will be greater than the fraction -, and
C6
the velocity of rotation will be increased. There is a par¬
ticular distance which will make it the greatest possible,
namely, when z is made = —(^/c2-}-wee — c), as will easily
71 f J
be found by treating the fraction - with z, consi-
ce + nzl
dered as the variable quantity, for a maximum. In what
we have been saying on this subject, we have considered
the rotation only inasmuch as it is performed round the
centre of gravity, although in every moment it is really per-
formed round a spontaneous axis lying beyond that centre.
The rota- 1 118 was done because it afforded an easy investigation, and
ticn per- any angular motion round the centre of gravity is equal to
formed the angular motion round any other point. Therefore the
round a extent and the time of the evolution are accurately defined
ousaxis!* Fwmi obse/r,ving that the. energy of the force F is propor¬
tional to ^G, an inattentive reader will be apt to conceive
the centre of gravity as the centre of motion, and the rota¬
tion as taking place, because the momenta of the sails and
rudder, on the opposite sides of the centre of gravity, do not
balance each other. But we must always keep in mind
t lat this is not the cause of the rotation. The cause is the
want of equilibrium round the point C (fig. 10), where the
actions of the water balance each other. During the
evolution, which consists of a rotation combined with a
progressive motion, this point C is continually shifting, and
the unbalanced momenta which continue the rotation
always respect the momentary situation of the point C. It
is, nevertheless, always true, that the energy of a force F
is proportional, cateris paribus, to 9G, and the rotation is
always made in the same direction as if the point G were
really the centre of conversion. Therefore the mainsail
acts always (when oblique) by pushing the stern away from
Ve wind> although it should sometimes act on a point of
the vertical lever through C, which is ahead of C.
1 hese observations on the effects of the sails and rudder
in producing a conversion, are sufficient for enabling us to
explain any case of their action which may occur. We
V0Ln0xx°nSidered the effeCtS Which they tend to Produce
17
by inclining the ship round a horizontal axis, viz., the mo- Seaman-
tions of rolling and pitching. To treat this subject properly ship,
would lead us into the whole doctrine of the equilibrium of
floating bodies, and it would rather lead to maxims of con¬
struction than to maxims of manoeuvre. M. Bouguer’s
Traite du Navire and Euler’s Scientia Navalis are excel¬
lent performances on this subject, and we are not here
obliged to have recourse to any erroneous theory.
It is easy to see that the lateral pressure both of the wind Different
on the sails and of the water on the rudder tends to incline 0Peratio,ls
the ship to one side. The sails also tend to press the ship’s of the Wa"
bows into the water, and if she were kept from advancing, ^ on t*1le
would press them down considerably. But by the ship’s wiT/on
motion, and the prominent form of her bows, the resistance the sails
of the water to the fore part of the ship produces a force ^afance
which is directed upwards. The sails also have a smalleach other-
tendency to raise the ship, for they constitute a surface
which in general separates from the plumb-line below.
This is remarkably the case in the staysails, particularly the
jib and fore-topmast staysail. And this helps greatly to
soften the ship s bows into the head seas. The upward
pressure also of the water on her bows, which we just nowr
mentioned, has a great effect in opposing the immersion of
the bows which the sails produce, by acting on the long
levers furnished by the masts. M. Bouguer gives the name
of point velique to the point
V (fig. 12) of the mast, where
it is cut by the line C V, which
marks the mean place and
direction of the whole impulse J
of the water on the bows. A
And he observes, that if the
mean direction of all the ac¬
tions of the wind on the sails be made to pass also throuo-h
this point, there will be a perfect equilibrium, and the ship
will have no tendency to plunge into the water or to rise
out of it; for the whole of the water on the bows, in the
direction CV, is equivalent to, and may be resolved into
the action CE, by which the progressive motion is resisted,
and the vertical action CD, by which the ship is raised
above the water. The force CE must be opposed by an
equal force YD, exerted by the wind on the sails, and the
force CD is opposed by the weight of the ship. If the
mean effort of the sails passes above the point V, the ship’s
bow will be pressed into the water ; and if it pass below V,
her stern will be pressed down. But, by the union of these
forces, she will rise and fall with the sea, keeping always
in a parallel position. We apprehend that it is of very little
moment to attend to the situation of this point. Except
when the ship is right before the wind, it is a thousand
chances to one that the line CV of mean resistance does
not pass through any mast; and the fact is, that the ship
cannot be in a state of uniform motion on any other condi¬
tion but the perfect union of the line of mean action of the
sails, and the line of mean action of the resistance. But
its place shifts by every change of leeway or of trim; and
it is impossible to keep these lines in one constant point of
intersection for a moment, on account of the incessant
changes of the surface of the water on which she floats.
M. Bouguer’s observations on this point are, however, very
ingenious and original.
To prevent unnecessary complication in this treatise, it Action of
has been supposed, what is no doubt correct in theory, thatthe ru<1der
the helm acts upon the ship in the same proportion, only uPon th®
producing exactly contrary effects, whether the vessel is scribed"
going ahead or astern. But in practice this is not the case,
and the reason is as follows:—In general a ship is so con¬
structed, unless brought down extremely by the stern, that
with headway, sailing with a side-wind, the natural ten¬
dency of the bow of the vessel is to approach the wind.
That is prevented, partly by the sails before the centre of
c
18 S E A M A
Seaman- gravity being larger than those abaft, and partly by keeping
ship. the helm a little a-weather. As soon, however, as the ship
get stern-way, she acquires a tendency to fall off from the
wind, in the same proportion as her tendency was to ap¬
proach the wind, as long as the vessel went ahead. But
on account of the larger size of the sails forward to those
abaft, this tendency to put before the wind is so increased,
that with a very moderate breeze, a ship, when making a
stern-board, soon pays off against her helm, until the wind
is on the quarter. No doubt the helm will counteract this
motion to some extent, but in practice the effect is hardly
perceptible.
The substance of this article, up to this point, has been
taken from one written by the celebrated Professor John
Robison, for a former edition of this work. The course of
adopting Professor Robison’s treatise as a groundwork has
been taken, not only out of deference to the high authority
of that author, but it is also believed that the interests of the
readers of the Encyclopaedia have been considered in this
matter. We have indeed the means of knowing that the
original article has been of extensive utility.
Chief evo- We shall now, instead of repeating the evolutions, which
lutions de- are described by the Professor, give a few examples of the
scribed. manner in which a ship is manoeuvred, in order to elucidate
the theory which has been already explained.
To tack ship, in smooth water, with a fine hreeze, and
under all sail.—Everything being ready, the ship is gra¬
dually luffed up, putting the helm down slowly, at the same
time hauling over, until nearly amidships, the spanker-boom.
As soon as the helm is down, the word is given, the “helm
is a-lee,” immediately the fore and hea‘d sheets are let go.
As soon as the wind is fairly out of the after-sails, or when
the ship is about three points from the wind, the order is
given to raise tacks and sheets. As the ship approaches to
about half-a-point of being head to wind, the after-yards
are braced round, and their sails trimmed. As soon as she
commences fairly to fall off on the new tack, the order is
given of “ all haulthen the head-yards are braced round,
and all the sails are trimmed. During this evolution the
way of the ship must be watched, and if lost, the helm
must be righted; if the ship gets stern-way, the helm must
be shifted.
The above is the ordinary process of tacking ship under
favourable circumstances ; a process in which all the diffe¬
rent modes of action of the rudder and sails may be em¬
ployed. To execute this evolution in the most expeditious
manner, and so get the ship as much as possible to wind¬
ward, is considered as the test of an expert seaman.
A fast-sailing ship, just able to carry three reefs out of
the topsails and top-gallant sails, working to windward
under the above-mentioned circumstances, ought to make
about 9 knots per hour, and sail within five and a-half
points of the wind. Such being the case, and supposing
half-a-point leeway to be made, if nothing was lost in stays,
the ship would go to windward at the rate of 3’4 miles per
hour. Perhaps O'S of the whole distance run may be con¬
sidered good for a square-rigged vessel.
. We have here supposed that, during this operation, the
ship has preserved, or nearly so, her progressive motion.
She must therefore have described a curved line, advancing
all the time to windward; and the ship has been tacked
without much assistance from the sails, but principally by
the action of the rudder. But this evolution has often to
be performed when, either from a swell, want of wind, or,
on the other hand, too much wind, sluggishness of the
vessel, or from too little sail being set and the ship having
little velocity, there arises a considerable probability that,
unless great care is used, the ship may not stay, or as it is
technically called, may miss stays. Under these circum¬
stances the skilful sailor will adopt many devices, which are
neither necessary nor useful, when he is placed in a more
N S H I P.
favourable situation. For instance, before putting the Seaman-
helm down, the jib-sheet ought to be eased off, or perhaps the ship-
jib hauled down. As soon as the word “ helm-is-a-lee” is
given, besides the fore-sheet, the foretop-bowline is also
let go, and the weather-foretopsail-brace is hauled in, the
yard to be braced up again as soon as the ship approaches
within two points of being head to wind. When the word
“raise tacks and sheets” is given, the fore-tack is to be kept
fast until the ship is head to wund. The after yards ought
not to be hauled until the ship is quite head to wind. The
shaking of the spanker under these circumstances affords a
good guide to show when the after-yards ought to be
braced round. During the time occupied by this evolution,
the way of the ship ought to be watched ; and as soon as
the ship begins to go astern, the helm ought to be shifted.
Sometimes it is necessary that the ship should have well
paid off on her new tack, before the head-yards are braced
round, otherwise the vessel may be placed in what is
called irons ; that is to say, for some considerable time her
head will not pay off either way, and the ship during this
time is going astern.
If the ship loses all her headway after the headsails have
taken aback, but before the wind has been brought right
ahead, the evolution becomes uncertain, but by no means
hopeless. Under these circumstances, the ship will soon
have stern-way, and the helm must then be shifted hard
over. It is evident that the resistance of the water to the
stern-way of the rudder will act in a favourable direction,
pushing the stern outwards. In the meantime, the action
of the wind on the headsails pushes the head in the oppo¬
site direction. These actions conspire, therefore, in pro¬
moting the evolution ; and if the wind can be brought right
ahead, it cannot fail, but may even be completed speedily.
As soon as the wind comes on the former lee-bow, the
action of the water on the now lee-quarter will greatly ac¬
celerate the conversion. Therefore, when the wind has once
been brought right ahead, there is no risk of failure.
To get under Weigh.—When a ship’s anchor is to be
weighed, the head-yards are braced round to the opposite
tack to which it is intended to cast the ship, the after-yards
being braced upon the other tack. Supposing it is in¬
tended to cast upon the port tack, the helm will be ported,
but shifted when the anchor is out of the ground, and the
ship commences to get stern-way. As soon as the head
sails will take on the port tack, they are hoisted, and after
that, the head-yards braced round, and the sails properly
trimmed.
To wear Ship.—Put the helm up, and brail up the after¬
sails, round in the weather after-braces, keeping the mizen-
topsail shivering, and the main-topsail just touching.
When the wind is about one point abaft the beam, let go
the head bowlines, and get a pull of the weather head-braces.
This is preferable to the usual plan of not touching the
head-yards, until the wind is well on the quarter. When
the wind is nearly aft, square the head-yards; and when it
comes on the other quarter, haul out the spanker, shift over
the head-sheets, righting the helm in time, and brace
sharp up. We cannot help losing much ground in this
movement. Therefore, though it be simple, it requires
attention and rapid execution to do it with as little loss as
possible. At first one is apt to think, that it would be
better to keep the head-sails braced up on the former tack,
until the ship is nearly before the wind; as we might ex¬
pect assistance from the obliquity of the head-sails. But
the rudder being the principal agent in the evolution, it is
found that more time is gained by increasing the ship’s
velocity than by an impulse upon the head-sails more
favourably directed. It has been considered by many sea¬
men, that a ship, when she cannot be stayed, loses the
least ground by what is termed box-hauling. This is
effected by bracing the head-yards flat aback as soon as the
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
Dangerous
position of
the Magni¬
ficent, and
her preser¬
vation from
it describ¬
ed.
helm is put up, and keeping the after-sails shivering; when
the ship gets stern-way, the helm is shifted, to be righted
when she gathers headway; when before the wind, square
the yards, and proceed as in wearing. This evolution, if
vyell done, may be useful if some danger be suddenly seen
right ahead.
In a strong gale with a contrary wind, or even with a fair
wind with too heavy a sea to run with safety, the ship is
obliged to lie to. Some sail is absolutely necessary to keep
the ship steady, otherwise she might strain and work her¬
self to pieces. Different ships behave best under different
sails. In a very violent gale, the main-topsail close reefed,
storm-trysails and fore-staysail are in general well adapted
for keeping a ship steady, and distributing the strain. Under
this sail, unless a very heavy sea is running, the ship will
have sufficient way to be steered. This is far preferable
to the plan adopted before storm-trysails had superseded
storm-staysails; the helm used then to be kept a-lee, and
the ship s head came up and fell off, the same as a ship
hove to in fine weather, with a main-topsail aback.
lo take in a topsail during a gale of wind.—Let go the
top-bowline, lower the yard, and slack about 4 feet of the
lee-sheet. Clew the yard down by the weather clewline,
and haul in the weather topsail brace. As soon as the
yard is down, ease away the weather-sheet, and haul up the
clewline and buntline; when up, ease oft’the lee-sheet, and
haul up the lee clewline and buntline.
T° set a topsail blowing hard, the lee-sheet must first be
hauled home.
Omitting the details, which we do not pretend to give,
the above shows the principle upon which square sails are
set and taken in during gales of wind.
In closing this head, we would refer to one of the finest
manoeuvres of seamanship, and one which has been fully
recoided, we mean the saving from a most perilous position
Hei Majesty s ship Magnificent, of 74 guns, commanded by
Captain John Hayes. I he following are some of the par¬
On the evening of December 16, 1812, the Magnificent
anchored with the best bower in 16 fathoms, between Chas-
seron and Isle of Rhe, in the neighbourhood of the Basque
Roads, at 9 h. 40 m. p.m. The ship drove, when the small
bower anchor was let go, and brought the ship up in 10
fathoms, the Isle of Rhe jeef being distant about the length
of two cables. I he lower yards and topmasts were imme¬
diately struck. By the lead it was soon discovered that
they weie anchored amongst rocks ; and as they were with¬
out chain-cables, it was quite obvious the hempen cables
would soon be chafed througfi. The gale continued, with
squalls fiom the S.W., with rain, and a heavy cross sea
running. At daylight the ship again drove, and the spare
anchor was let go, which brought her up. At noon the
gale had increased, without any indication of a favourable
change in the weather, joined to which one of the cables
having parted, Captain Hayes resolved to make an attempt
to save the ship. I he courses having been previously
teefed, and the topsails close-reefed, the lower yards were
swayed up to three-fourths of their usual height; the top¬
masts were secured close down, leaving the topsail-yards to
woik on the caps; the largest hawser was passed through
the starboard quarter-port, and bent to the cable of the small
bower, for the purpose of acting as a spring in casting the
ship to port previously to cutting the cable.
-The courses and topsails were secured on their respective
yards with stops of spun yarn, the gaskets having been re-
moved. The head and main yards were braced up on the
starboard tack, the yards on the mizen-mast being kept
square. It is quite evident that, in the event of the spring
canting the ship, the head-yards wrould require no altera-
t'on. On the other hand, if the spring broke, the yards
cou not be better placed for producing the stern-board,
ly
which would in that case be necessary to clear the reef- Seaman-
Ihe spring was now hove in to a tolerable strain, and all ship,
being ready, the cables w'ere cut. The heavy sea on the
port-bow acting against the spring, caused it to snap ; it was
immediately cut adrift to prevent retarding the ship’s way,
the helm was put hard to starboard, the fore-staysail hoisted'
the fore-topsail let fall and sheeted home, the foresail let
fall, the tack hauled on board, and the sheet roused aft.
All this sail was flat aback, and set in less than half-a-
minute. The ship’s head paid round quickly towards the
reef. When the wdnd w;as abaft the beam, the mizen-top-
sail was set, and the helm shifted. When the wind came
right aft, the main-topsail was set, and immediately after¬
wards the mainsail. As soon as the wind came on the
starboard quarter, the sails were trimmed, and the yards
biaced up on the starboard tack. Thus the ship was
saved.
1 his manoeuvre, from the cutting of the spring until the
sails were set, did not exceed two minutes. At the moment
when the ship s head w as in the direction of the rocks, and
then only in five fathoms water, the vessel made a despe¬
rate plunge ; and in hauling to the wind, the send of the sea
did not leave, by the soundings, more than a single foot of
water under the keel.
We now propose to direct attention to the most import- Late im-
ant,improvements in the art of seamanship which have provements
taken place within the last fifty years. This science, as it ar*'
may now fairly be called, has greatly advanced within thatsf^man*
peiiod. With the improvements w hich have been made in 8 ^
most other departments of industry and knowledge, the
public are more or less familiar, and great pains have been
taken throughout this work to extend that familiaritv by
such popular explanations as shall not only be intelligible
to general readers, but be useful to those whom pleasure or
business inclines to go deeper. But before explaining the
more recent changes that have taken place in this art or
science, we would direct some attention to its general pro¬
gress. r
Most other sciences may be studied with effect in the
closet. An amateur astronomer, for example, or a chemist,
furnished with good instruments, and having confidence in
the skill and good faith of the leaders in the particular walk
of knowledge to which his taste inclines him, may, by adopt¬
ing their results, pursue the same paths with almost equal
profit, and perhaps with more pleasure than those who take
all the labour and incur all the responsibility. But there
is no royal road of this sort by which an amateur sailor can
investigate the results of seamanship, the mysteries of
which, to be lully understood, must be studied afloat, at
sea, in all weathers, and in every climate.
All the world, however, knows that the results of nau¬
tical skill and exertion are not the same as they used to
be. A voyage to India and back, in former times, occu¬
pied a couple of years, or more ; it is now currently done in
eight months, even by ordinary merchant-vessels, including
the time taken to unload and reload their cargoes. In con¬
sequence of the increase of passengers between England and
Australia, great emulation has been excited amongst the
merchant-ships running between the two countries, and many
improvements have taken place. That voyage is now often
performed (without the aid of steam) in eighty days, and has
been done in seventy. It is recorded that one of these clipper
ships, as they are designated, has run the enormous distance
of nearly 3000 miles in ten days. In former days, the
scurvy struck down half the crew of every ship which made
a long voyage, and was even fearfully prevalent in the
navy ; now the disease is almost unknown. The numbers
of all kinds of ships afloat have enormously increased, and
the war ot the elements by which they were formerly
assailed is no less violent than it was; but assuredly a far
smaller proportion of vessels are now driven on shore than
20 SEAM,-?
Seaman- were formerly wrecked. The comforts, too, of travelling
ship. by sea, in the articles of provisions and water, are all essen-
tially improved; and, finally, the security, as well as the
happiness of all persons on board, whether passengers or
crew, has been marvellously augmented by the general
establishment of a better system of discipline than was
known in bygone days; whilst many old manipulations of
seamanship are so modified by new contrivances, that if old
Benbow, or even Kempenfelt, were to arise from the dead,
he would scarcely know how to handle his ship.
Best It may not be without use, and it certainly must be in¬
courses in teresting to those who have not studied such things per-
passmg sonally, to see by an example how scientific seamanship is
tropics. 6 ma^e t0 triumph over that groping and blundering method
of navigating ships which is technically known by the name
of the l£ rule of thumb.” If we take a globe, and trace on
it the shortest route, by sea, to India, and then fancy that
such must be the best course to follow, we shall be very
much mistaken. And yet this is very much what our an¬
cestors actually did, till time, and repeated trials, and mul¬
titudinous failures, gradually taught them where to seek for
winds, and how to profit by them when found. According
to the “ rule of thumb” sailing, a ship had only to steer
from England to Madeira, pass the Canaries and Cape de
Verds, and then to make a direct course to the Cape, and
thence to India. On trial, however, this experiment
always failed; for on getting near the equator, a series of
calms and squalls put a stop to this straight-line scheme,
and the mariners of old were then forced to toil along the
coast of Africa, or were driven towards that of the Brazils,
and very often they came back in utter hopelessness. Now-
a-days, the exact spot where the north-east trade wind,
which prevails in the northern Atlantic, ought to be parted
with; in what district the calms and variables are most
easily managed; over what degree of longitude on the
equator the ship should pass; and, finally, in what place the
south-east trade wind of the southern Atlantic is to be
found, and how it is to be made most use of when found,—
are all matters of such familiarity to the really qualified
navigator, that they scarcely occupy his thoughts, but are
acted upon as matters of course, and, unless some unfore¬
seen accident occurs, absolutely ensure the success of his
voyage. The line he follows, however, is by no means the
straight one which an ill-informed person would naturally
have chalked out for him to follow, ignorant of the impossi¬
bility of pursuing it.
The modern navigator, by not seeking to husband the
south-east trade wind too much, but by freely “ flanking”
through it, sweeps past the coast of Brazil, and by boldly
dashing down into pretty high south latitudes, is certain, or
almost certain, of finding there such a vein of westerly wind,
as amply compensates for the apparent roundabout he has
made in his course. In like manner, after passing the Cape,
which to the old navigators was truly a “ Cabo de tor-
mentos,” instead of vainly trying to reach India by steering
straight through the Mozambique Channel, the scientific
navigator, disregarding the increase of distance, maintains
his position in a high latitude, and sails resolutely along a
parallel of latitude, with the wind in his poop, till he has
obtained such a degree of easting, that, on hauling up to
the northward, and making for the south-east trade wind,
he enters that mysterious aerial current on such terms as
ensure his making it serve his purpose. If, however, he be
timid or impatient by nature, and not duly instructed by
experience, he will be very apt to haul up too soon to the
northward, from not liking to run, as it appears, so far past
his port. 1 he consequence will be, that when he encoun¬
ters the south-east trade wind, he will find, that instead of
its being fair, it is blowing in his teeth, and he will have to
run back again to the southward to borrow a little more
easting from the westerly breezes which prevail there.
N S H I P.
Be it observed, however, that the above instructions would Seaman-
lead a seaman into great error, were he to make the rule shiP*
absolute; for, at certain seasons of the year, that is, when ^
the sun is far to the north of the line, and the south-west
monsoon blowing in the Indian Ocean, his course from the
Cape to India would lead him between Madagascar and
the main land of Africa; and so he would sail across the
equator, and enter the Bay of Bengal with a flowing sheet.
At other seasons, so far from having a flowing sheet on
reaching India, he may have to beat up the bay, ‘‘hank for
hank,” unless he has knowledge enough to know at which
side to enter it, and skill enough—for it requires a good
deal—to know how to profit by the land and sea breezes of
the coasts respectively of Coromandel and of Pegu.
In short, not to swell this example too far, the truly scien¬
tific navigator, possessed of the requisite nautical instru¬
ments (the most important of which we propose to speak of
by and by), by which means he may at all times be certain
of his place, may almost command a fair wind at every stage
of his voyage, and thus secure his passage within a certain
number of days; though, in his way, he will have had to vary
his course a hundred times from that which, at first sight,
might have been thought the best, merely because, on°the
map, it seemed the shortest. The old proverb, indeed,
which warns us that the longest way about is often the
shortest way home, has perhaps its amplest illustration in
the practice of modern seamanship; but, let it be always
borne in mind, that this is true only when all the varying
circumstances of time and place are duly taken into account,
and so appropriated as to give to the ship those advantages
of fair wind and moderate weather without which no voyage
can be securely or speedily made. This branch of seaman¬
ship, therefore, more than any other, requires for its suc¬
cessful exercise a singular combination of the widest gene¬
ralizations in theory, with the most minute and specific
disintegrations of scientific research in practice. In the In¬
dian seas especially, the whole history of the winds, exa¬
mined without some theoretical clue, is a mass of confusion;
and yet the profoundest meteorological science would inevit¬
ably prove not only useless, but absolutely dangerous to the
navigator who should trust to it alone, without the aid of
local information, and of the improvements of modern art.
The first great improvement of recent times to which we Effects of
shall allude, is the mighty revolution in nautical affairs the intro-
brought about by the introduction of steam. We may no- Auction of
tice in passing, that the first instance we have of the appli-stea™ in
cation of steam-power to propel vessels in this country took n^lcal
place in 1815, and Glasgow led the way. No doubt, steam-
engines had been tried on board ships before that time, but
in 1815 commenced the first commercial employment of
steam-vessels. In the beginning of 1816, a small steam-
vessel, of about ten horse-power, began running as a
passage-vessel between Sheerness and Chatham. Imme¬
diately after that steam-vessels were used upon the Thames.
The first time that they made coasting sea-voyages was in
1821, when they commenced running between London and
Edinburgh. T. he first of what may be called an ocean-voyage
took place in 1826, when two steam-vessels commenced
running between London and Lisbon. Our present object,
however, is not to give a history of steam as applied to na¬
vigation, but to notice that change, so far as seamanship
proper is concerned. For fuller explanations of the subject,
and its progress, we would refer to the article Steam-
Engine.
Now, to a considerable extent, steam does not essentially
interfere with seamanship proper, the manipulations of
which remain nearly as before; whilst steam navigation, in
spite of its boasted contempt of wind and tide, is still
obliged to borrow so much from seamanship to complete its
success, that without its aid it would often be useless, and
even dangerous in the highest degree. It is quite evident,
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- that nearly all that branch of our subject which relates to
slop. navigation ; that is, to the method by which a ship’s place is
determined at sea, the proper course shaped, and the dif¬
ferent ports of the world recognised and made use of, re¬
mains the same. Latitudes and longitudes, and the varia¬
tion of the compass, are evidently just as important to a
steam-vessel as to a sailing one ; and though winds and cur¬
rents are not quite so essential, every one who has made a
steam voyage of any length is aware how materially its
celerity depends upon a knowledge of and due attention to
these particulars. It is one of the chief points of a seaman’s
duty to know where to find a fair wind, and where to fall in
with a favourable current; but the obligation, if not equally
binding on a steam navigator, is so, to a certain extent,
when his voyage is a long one. The most remarkable
occasions on which steam has the advantage over sails are
in a calm, and when the wind is directly ahead. In a calm,
a sailing ship is utterly helpless, and must stand stock-still;
with a wind in her teeth, if it blow hard, she can do nothing,
or does worse than nothing, drifts away from her point.
Although the above statements, as far as they go, are true
to the letter, still there are other points of seamanship
connected with steam that now can only be acquired on
board steam-vessels; one of such points, of most import¬
ance, is the best and most efficient mode of combining
steam with the use of sails, and to which we would first
draw attention.
Remarks When first the steam-engine was applied to the propul-
upon best sjon 0f vessels, the propeller universally adopted was the
moae of paddle-wheel; and a general idea existed, that sails under
Steam with these circumstances were of very little use; acting upon
use of sails, this notion, these vessels were fitted with very small masts
and yards. But as soon as we commenced to have steam
men-of-war, it was apparent, that if they were not provided
with the power of moving under sail alone, so as to save
burning their coals, their utility for distant stations, and
cruising with a fleet, would be much curtailed. For the
above reasons, steam men-of-w'ar, even before the introduc¬
tion of the screw, were being gradually fitted with loftier
masts and squarer yards; so that, by the year ] 846, our steam
frigates had in general about three-fourths the same extent
of canvas that they would have had as sailing ships of the
same dimensions. To render these vessels at all effective
under sail alone, the wheels had either to be disconnected,
or the floats taken off. But even after either of these plans
had been adopted, the vessel, owing to its cumbrous
paddle-boxes, remained an indifferent sailing vessel. Under
these disadvantages, the introduction of the screw as a
propeller made here a most important change. A screw-
vessel, with its screw hoisted up, becomes as well fitted for
sailing as any other vessel; and as the engines can be
placed under the water-line, therefore protected from shot.
This mode of propulsion wras quickly adopted for the navy,
and the ships so fitted are now rigged the same as if they
had no steam, but were simply sailing-vessels. We need
hardly add, that in future no men-of-war will proceed to
sea without steam-engines being placed on board. The
mercantile world were not slow in adopting screw-vessels;
and at present they are not only employed in the coasting
trade, but largely in the foreign commerce of the country.
Although many of these vessels have great steam-power
placed on board, still in a considerable number the power
is small in proportion to their tonnage. In all cases large
fore and aft sails are fitted for shorter voyages, and they
are fully rigged for the longer ones. Although the screw
has to a great extent taken the place of the paddle-wheel,
and entirely so in the navy, yet, for the mercantile marine
and post-office packets, under certain circumstances, the
paddle-wheel is still used; for instance, in rivers, and for
oistant voyages, where strong head winds may be expected,
and where a few hours even of delay may be of conse¬
quence. Thus we see, that a further advance in the science
of steam navigation has had the effect of restoring the use
of sails where engine-power is used. It would, indeed, be
a disgrace to modern science if such a cheap and powerful
agent as the wind could not be applied for our benefit, and
that our discoveries only forced us to have recourse to ex¬
pensive methods to gain our object. The action of the
winds as a moving power is now brought under subjection,
to be used when it is favourable; but at times when such
is not the case, we then, and not till then, ought to have
recourse to that power which we have in reserve. It is cer¬
tainly comparatively easy to have a mere sailing-vessel, or
a mere steamer. It is the combination of the two quali¬
ties which forms the desideratum, and to which we would
now draw attention.
Often with men-of-war the length of a passage is of little
moment, in these cases the sails alone ought to be used.
But, on the other hand, in post-office packets and mercan¬
tile vessels with passengers, time is of so much importance,
that if the supply of fuel be sufficient, it is their policy to
push on ; but there are a great variety of cases, where, al¬
though no extreme haste is necessary, yet it is of import¬
ance that the voyage should not be protracted beyond a
certain time; in those cases a judicious employment of
steam and sail is of consequence.
To aid a further elucidation of this subject, we propose
now to give a table of the velocity and pressure of the
wind;—
Velocity in miles
per hour.
Light breezes,  3 25
Moderate breezes  6’5
Fresh breezes  16'2o
Fresh gale  32-5
Strong gale  56-29
Hurricane  79-61
Violent hurricane  97-5
Pressure on a
square foot-
lbs. oz.
0
0
1
5
15
31
0-83
3-33
50
30
9-0
39
46 120
From this table it appears that the pressure of the wind
increases as the square of its velocity; and as the power
necessary to overcome the resistance to the speed of the
ship is in all cases as the cube of her velocity, the follow¬
ing circumstance is therefore deducible. With a ship pro¬
pelled by steam, if twice the velocity is to be attained,
eight times the power must be used; but under sail (all
things remaining the same, and a similar number of square
yards of canvas spread), then wind, with three times its
former velocity, would give rather more than twice the
speed. But take the action of the wind in another point of
view, and suppose a ship, with her steam up, going before
the wind; if the velocity of the ship be greater than the
wind, it is quite evident that the sails would only be a hin¬
drance ; but supposing that there is some difference, and
that the ship is going slower than the wind, then all the
assistance that the ship can receive is the difference between
her velocity and the velocity of the wind. From this it is
evident, that in a steam-vessel, when the wind is aft, or
nearly so, the economical policy is to put the ship under
sail alone, and not to use the steam at all, for by so doing,
the whole power of the wind is made available. On the
other hand, a light breeze on or abaft the beam, otherwise
of little importance, may be taken advantage of in the pro¬
pelling of the ship, by combining with it the power of
steam. The reason is this. The ship passing rapidly along
creates a considerable breeze; this unites with the wind,
no doubt causing it to act more forward upon the ship in
the same proportion as it increases its strength. From this
we learn, that with light breezes on or about the beam,
policy directs to make sail, but also to retain the steam, as
it is by the velocity imparted by the engines to the vessel
that these light winds become available.
It is not necessary to enlarge farther upon this subject,
21
Seaman¬
ship.
22
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- as in a former part of this treatise (and the principle is the
ship. same) we demonstrated, that a fast ship, under sail alone,
' with the wind abaft the beam, might go faster than the
ordinary current of the wind ; although, no doubt, such
cases seldom occur. With regard, however, to a vessel
propelled by steam it is very different. In this case it will
often happen, under the circumstances stated above, that
the way of the ship will be increased by the power of the
apparent wind, whilst the real wind has not the velocity of
the vessel.
Mistake In connection with this subject, we would now draw
frequently attention to a mistake which sailors in charge of steam-
committed vesse]s sometimes have committed. The mistake made is
^iUn^ t^*s* orc^er’ as they consider, to save coals, they keep
the steam so low, with sail set, as not to turn the screw or
paddle-wheel so fast as the vessel would go under sail
alone. We have read an account of a voyage intended to
show the advantage of using the sails and steam combined;
and although attention is drawn to the small quantity of
coal thereby consumed, yet, upon examination, there can
be no doubt that the vessel would often have gone faster
if the steam had not been used at all, and in such cases
there would have been a saving of the whole of the coal.
The principles involved are as follows. With a fair wind,
the number of miles obtained from a ton of coals is the
number of miles that the engines increased the speed of
the vessel above that which she would have gone with
sails alone ; that is to say, suppose a steam-ship goes nine
knots with a fair wind, under sail alone, steam is applied,
and the ship goes ten knots; the consumption of coal is,
say two tons per hour, then 05 knot is obtained from each
ton of coal. But now, under the same circumstances, sup¬
pose that a comparatively small amount of steam is applied,
then it will follow that, unless a sufficiency of coal is used
to keep up the revolutions of the screw or paddle-wheel
equal to what would be the rate of the ship under sail
alone, the wray of the ship is less under sail, and this small
supply of coal, than it would have been under sail alone;
in short, the coal used in such a case would only retard
the ship; and from this it may be deduced, that although
fore and aft sails, and square sails also, when the wind is
not too far forward, with the steam, may, under certain cir¬
cumstances, often be useful, and save coal; so that, when the
object is to make quick and economical passages, steam
and sail ought certainly to be combined. Still it is advis¬
able that steam and sail be generally used separately.
With strong head winds, the seaman often finds in his
■ steam-vessel he is burning a large quantity of coal, more
particularly if propelled by a screw, and making little way.
In such cases the best plan is to keep the ship away and
make sail, and if time is an important object, still keeping
the screw in motion. So situated, even a dull sailing-vessel
with small steam-power, if judiciously handled, will work
to windward with considerable celerity.
We have already given an outline of the courses usually
followed by a sailing-ship in passing through the tropics.
In similar voyages, however, a vessel with steam-power has
great advantages; and the skilful seaman would take a
much shorter route, regulated of course, first, by his supply
of coals and the time of their probable duration, and, se¬
condly, by calculating the importance of time in opposition
to expenditure of fuel.
We now propose to give a short account of two voyages
made by Her Majesty’s steam-frigate Terrible, where sail
and steam were combined, and which will therefore show
the results of this combination; and as they were made
through the tropics, these voyages will also prove that a much
more direct and shorter route in such cases can be advan¬
tageously taken by steam-vessels than by mere sailing
ships. It is necessary, first, to premise, that the Terrible
Vvas a steam-frigate carrying heavy armaments of guns,
Two
voyages
made by
the Ter¬
rible de¬
scribed.
both on the main and upper decks. The Terrible’s size
was 1847 tons, with 800 horse-power of engines, stowing
about 500 tons of coal, barque-rigged, and spreading about
the same quantity of canvas as the old 44-gun frigates.
It is also proper to state, that during both these voyages,
when the steam was employed, it was used as expansively
as possible, and with only two boilers, there being four on
board for full power. The length of the stroke was 8
feet; the steam was cut off at 22 inches.
The first voyage was performed in August 1847, and was
from Madeira, in Lat. 32. 58. N., Long. 16. 55. W., to St
Paul de Loando, Lat. 8.48. S., Long. 13. 13. E. The fol¬
lowing is a short summary of the particulars of this voyage,
and which requires no explanation :—
Shortest distance between Madeira and St Paul de
Loando 
Actual distance run by ship 
Total time occupied 
Under sail alone  
Under steam 
At anchor 
Distance gone under sail alone 
Under steam 
Whole hourly average rate of going 
Total consumption of coal 
3547
3714
27
20
156
18
2374
1340
5-9
252
miles
V
days
hours
miles
t>
?>
tons
Seaman¬
ship.
The equator was crossed in Long. 6. 0. E. It is quite
obvious from the above table, that the Terrible, in this
voyage, took almost the nearest possible route; now, every
one at all acquainted with the winds and currents on the
African coast to the southward of the line, is well aware that
such apian in a sailing-vessel is totally out of the question,
and if attempted might even have prolonged the vogage for
months.
The second voyage, concluding October 7, 1847, was
from St Paul de Loando to Lisbon; and the following is a
table similar to the one given for the previous voyage:—
Shortest distance between St Paul de Loando and
Lisbon   J
Actual distance run by ship.....'  4490
Total time occupied  30
Under sail alone  21
Under steam  224
Distance gone under sail alone  2500
Under steam  1990
Whole hourly average rate of going  6-23
Total consumption of coal  354
miles
daj-s
hours
miles
99
99
tons
The equator was crossed in Long. 13. 0. W. It will be
observed that the same principle was adopted in the second
voyage, namely, to makeas nearly as possible a direct course.
After the Terrible crossed the line, a nearly straight course
was made up to 30. N. Lat., steaming through the N.E.
trades, passing between Africa and the Canary Islands.
We have now shown that even in long voyages the steam¬
ship has an immense superiority over the sailing-vessel.
We may, however, observe further, that she still retains that
superiority under circumstances where both description of
vessels are forced to anchor upon a dangerous lee-shore.
From the anchors not holding, or the insufficient strength
of the cables, there is then risk of their being forced on
shore. But in this predicament, a steam-vessel, by the mere
agency of her steam, although not exerted to any great
extent, will either keep the cable slack, or at all events
very materially relieve it from the strain produced by the
wind.
There are many other details constantly arising on
board steam-vessels, such as taking ships in tow, &c.
These are operations which, to do well, require good sea¬
manship; but, as we believe, that they can only be fully and
practically learned on board a steam-vessel, it is hardly ne¬
cessary to enter further upon these arrangements than we
have done already.
There is, however, a very natural consideration that arises
from the fact, that the royal navy is now entirely steam, and
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
Skill in
some points
of seaman¬
ship dete¬
riorated.
Introduc¬
tion of
chain-
cables ;
their ad¬
vantages.
that the mercantile marine is gradually becoming so. The
consideration we allude to is this, Has this change deterior¬
ated our skill and knowledge of seamanship ? In our own
opinion, to a certain extent, it has, not that our ships are
worse rigged or worse handled in any way, in the open sea,
but officers and pilots are gradually shrinking from perform¬
ing those manoeuvres that were formerly often executed by
mere sailing-vessels, close to the shore or in narrow passages.
Suppose, for example, a ship placed, in the present day, in
the same position as the Magnificent, which we have already
described, most probably she would have steam-power, by
which aid the ship could be easily extricated; but if not, it
appears to us very doubtful whether the daring manoeuvre
which saved that ship would now be attempted under sail
alone. Formerly it was quite common for ships of the line,
with their lower deck guns out, to beat up (not back and
fill) from Sheerness to Chatham, and vice versa; and we
much fear that no pilot would undertake now the responsi¬
bility of such a proceeding.
The next improvement to which we shall refer, are the
remarkable advantages which have been gained by the ex¬
tensive use of iron on board ship.
As far back as 1808, Captain Brown, of the navy, pro¬
posed the use of iron cables and rigging. There was, how¬
ever, some difficulty in applying the peculiar welding that
was found necessary for the links, so that it was not until
1811 that the cables were fairly tried. Since that time
they have gradually been more and more adopted, So much
so, that their use may now be considered universal, and
certainly no greater boon was ever conferred upon the sea
service. The original cost of a chain-cable is about the
same as a hempen one, whilst its duration is so much greater
that there can be no comparison. The security afforded
by it is vastly superior, for it is exposed to none of the
deteriorating causes which soon render a hempen cable
comparatively so little trustworthy. The alternate wet¬
ting and drying which saps the strength of a hempen cable,
has little effect on one of iron. The friction against rocks,
especially against coral, may fatally damage a cable of
hemp in a few minutes ; but the same friction, after days
of hard use, only polishes a few links of the chain. The
introduction of chain-cables has, therefore, whenever the
bottom anchored upon is rocky, increased the safety of
ships tenfold. Nor does this advantage consist solely in
their strength and durability, for they are managed with more
facility, occupy much less space, and are coiled away with
little trouble; for as they are hove in, they fall in and ad¬
just themselves into a case near the hatchway, from which
they are drawn up when wanted. Those who remember the
toil and trouble of stowing away a hempen cable into its
tier, the wet and dirt, and the number of men required,
will not consider these advantages as small one's.
Several adaptations have been found necessary in conse¬
quence of the use of chain-cables. The hawse-holes require
to be lined with iron, and the bitts cased with the same
metal; a new kind of stopper was also required, by which
the cable could at any time be prevented from running out,
whatever might be the strain upon it. The stopper first
adopted, and which answers extremely well, was invented by
Captain Brown himself, and is of the nature of a compres-
ser. I his stopper is delineated in a figure, and explained
in the article Capstan, to which the reader is referred.
But the stopper generally used on board men-of-war was
invented by Sir Thomas Hardy, and consists of a large
swan-necked bar of wrought iron, which embraces the cable
as it comes up the hatchway, having one of the ends of the
curve fixed to the beams of the lower deck by a powerful
o t, whilst to the other end is attached a tackle, worked on
t ie ower deck, by which the curved stopper can be drawn
tig it, and the chain pressed so firmly in its embrace against
the angle of the hatchway that, however quickly it may be
23
running out, or whatever strain may be brought on it, the Seaman-
cable is at once arrested. For some years after the intro- ship,
duction of chain-cables, hempen messengers were used to v - v -»-y
heave them in ; now chains are adopted, with a consider¬
able saving of expense. The messenger is the endless rope
which is taken round the capstan, and being attached to the
cable, by what are called nippers, draws in the cable along
with it as the capstan is hove round. Nippers are made of
rope ; iron has been tried, but not, as yet, with much suc¬
cess. But the best arrangement, and that w hich, we think,
will soon be universally adopted, is to dispense with the mes¬
senger altogether, and to bring the chain-cable direct to
the capstan. (See article Capstan.) No doubt, on board
those ships which w7ere first fitted in this way, the chain
slipped occasionally, indeed often, when a shackle or swivel
came to the capstan ; but that defect has now been obviated.
W hen this plan is used, it is necessary to have an addition,
called a controller, and which is placed before the bitts, and
secures each link of the chain as it is hove in.
One advantage of chain-cables is, that a ship may often
lie at single anchor without risk of fouling the anchor. In
this case, a good scope of cable ought to be veered out, and
the ship backed from her anchor, either by the sails or the
power of steam, and if the tides are not very rapid, and if
the ground consist of mud, there is no probability of this
accident occurring. But if the scope of chain be too short,
the tides very strong, and the ground hard, there will be
almost the same risk of fouling the anchor as with a hem¬
pen cable.
W ith all these numerous advantages that chain-cables
have over hempen ones, there are situations where they
cannot be used without modification. For example, anchor¬
ing near the land in upwards of forty fathoms water. From
such a depth, the great weight of the chain-cable renders
the labour of heaving up the anchor very severe ; added to
which, from the vicinity to the shore, it may be indispen¬
sable to get the anchor speedily up, and stowed, so that the
ship may be under command. To remedy this evil, which
arises from the greater weight of an iron-cable in compa¬
rison of one made with hemp, and yet to profit by the
security which belongs to rendering invulnerable that part
of the cable most exposed to friction by rocks, it has been
proposed to bend a length of chain (by seamen called a
ganger) to the anchor, and upon the chain to splice a hem¬
pen-cable. The outer end of a length of chain being thus
shackled to the anchor, the cable may be used in any
depth of water, with nearly as much security as if it were
made of iron from end to end, with only the inconvenience
arising from the additional weight of one length of chain.
Chain-slings for the lower yards have been long in use; pi •
and, about thirty years ago, chain-topsail-sheets, and chain- ging” nS"
ties were introduced, as well as chain-gammoning for the
bowsprit, and ehain-bobstays, and all have been found, more
or less, improvements upon the old plans.
The great objection to chain-rigging for the lower masts
has been its great weight; and, for that reason, it has only
been used for those masts of steam-vessels where the hem¬
pen rigging would have received injury from the heat com¬
ing from the funnel. There is, however, no such objection
to rigging made from wire-rope, which, along with all the
advantages possessed by chain, is about the same weight ^y!rf-roPe
and has much of the elasticity of hempen rigging. This rl]ggin^’
wire-rigging is now widely used, and with the most perfect ^vantage3
success, for the standing rigging of lower masts. It also,
in some respects, answers extremely well for topmast and
topgallant-rigging, the only objection being a difficulty of
handling it, in the event of its being necessary to shift a
mast, or in the event of one being carried away. Her Ma¬
jesty’s ship Terrible, in 1845, was rigged throughout with
wire-rope, the lower topmast, topgallant, and royal rigging
being all made of it, and there was no complaint of its being
24
Seaman¬
ship.
SEAMANSHIP.
Improve¬
ments in
the form
and manU'
facturing
of anchors
Iron-tanks.
Introduc¬
tion of dis¬
tilled water
a great
boon.
found inefficient. Besides the great advantage that wire¬
rigging possesses, of not being affected by the heat and
sparks from the funnel, its durability is, at least, three or
four times that of common rope, and, when once completely
stretched, does not require any further setting up. We
may add, that wire-rope can also be used for strapping
blocks, and will be found both neat and serviceable.
In men-of-war, the use of iron-ballast, instead of dirty
shingle, is also comparatively a recent, but valuable, im¬
provement.
Soon after the introduction of chain-cables, attention was
directed to the defects of the anchor then in common use;
but, for a full description of anchors, we must refer our
readers to the article under that head ; here we shall only
briefly allude to the improvement that has taken place. One
great defect in the old anchor was the extreme length of
the shank, which no doubt was the cause that it so often
broke in that part. This accident, after chain-cables were
introduced, became more frequent, and was caused by the
weight of the chain, which often fell upon the shank and
snapped it. Many proposals for a new formation of anchors
w ere made and tried ; but, where the old form of anchor was
retained, the great principle appears to have been to shorten
the shank, but keeping the same weight of iron, thereby
increasing the strength of that part. Rodgers, in his an¬
chor, which is now so generally used, adopted that principle,
and at the same time made the palm as small as possible.
Another species, known by the name of Porter’s anchor,
improved by Trotman, is now much used in merchant-ships,
but has not found much favour with naval officers. This
anchor differs from all others, by the flukes being moveable
upon a strong pin in the crown of the anchor. Its defect
is said to be this : if once it starts from the ground, the faci¬
lity of bitting again is less than it is with those constructed
upon the old plan. In 1852, a committee of naval officers
and ship-owners was appointed by the Admiralty to inves¬
tigate and report upon the properties of different anchors.
rl his committee reported that Trotman’s anchor bore the
greatest strain without coming home or breaking ; but they
recommended Lieutenant Rodger’s small palmed anchor as
the best for all practical purposes.
But anchors are not only now better planned, but by the
aid of the powerful steam-hammer, invented by Nasmyth,
better made. Formerly, when manual labour only was em¬
ployed, it often happened, with large anchors, that the iron
was not completely welded; that defect is at present un¬
known. Thus has been added a further security to our
ships. The last most important use of iron, to which we
shall draw attention, is in a department of seamanship that
is of great importance. We allude to the watering of ships.
About 1812, iron-tanks were introduced into the navy and
mercantile marine, and has very greatly increased the quan¬
tity of water which can be carried to sea ; whilst the quality
has been improved in a manner, of the extent of which no
one can form an idea unless he has actually drunk some of
the filthy stuff which had been taken out of the wooden
casks of bygone days.
An iron-tank of the largest kind at present made for
ships of war is called a four-foot cube, though it measures
about an inch more in its external dimensions, and occupies
sixty-eight cubic feet of space. This area, if entirely filled
with water, would contain 424 gallons ; but it actually holds
400, which is only twenty-four gallons less than the space
would possibly contain.
An increase in the stowage of water is also gained by
having tanks made in a form to suit the curve of the ship’s
hold, or to enter spaces too low to receive cubical tanks.
But the supply of fine wholesome water for steam-ships
has been still further increased, by the plan of distilling
water on board, as arranged by Sir Thomas Grant, late
comptroller of victualling to the navy. By this arrange¬
ment, a large ship of the line can distil about two tons an Seaman-
hour by the use of the full power of the apparatus ; and, at ship,
any time when under steam, can always obtain a sufficient
quantity of water from the waste steam without burning
extra coals to supply the ship’s company’s daily use, with¬
out trenching upon the stock on board. The plan by which
the distilled water is obtained is very simple. The steam
is conveyed from a boiler in the engine-room to a condenser
placed in the fore-hold. This condenser is placed in water,
which is supplied from outside the ship, and conveyed off
as it becomes hot. As the steam is condensed into water,
it is carried by means of a gutta percha hose into the tanks,
where, after it has remained two or three days to be im¬
pregnated with atmospheric air, it is ready for use. And
we can bear our testimony to all who have not experience
of this process, that the water which it produces is of the
finest quality, and is fully appreciated by seamen, who justly
consider Grant as one of their greatest benefactors—as
one of those useful inventors who have added to the com¬
fort, and promoted the health, of their fellow-creatures.
Connected with the food of seamen is the discovery of Preserved
preserving meats, soups, and vegetables, without salt, in meats, &<:.
cylindrical tin-cases, first devised by M. Appert, a French¬
man, and now in general use at sea. In all her Majesty’s
ships, these preserved meats have long been supplied to
the sick with great advantage. To which has been added
for all, rations of chocolate, tea, and sugar, with an increased
allowance of the other kinds of provisions, and a decrease
of the spirits. This new plan of victualling our seamen has
added to their health and sobriety, and leaves little to be
desired.
In stating these different naval improvements which Snow Har-
have characterized the present day, the lightning-conduc- ris’im-
tors of Snow Harris must not be omitted. All who are P^y6"161118
acquainted with the frequency of disasters at sea are per-
fectly aware how many are produced by ships being struck ductors.
by lightning. Impressed with that idea, Snow Harris, as
far back as 1822, devised his present plan of conductors,
which was fairly tested on board our men-of-war in 1830.
They were found to answer their purpose so completely,
that all the ships of the navy have long been fitted with
these conductors, and gradually they are being adopted in
large merchant-ships. And w'e can state, that there is no
instance of a ship being damaged where these conductors
were used. Snow Harris’s plan differs from all others for¬
merly used in placing his conductor along the different
masts, of which it forms, in fact, a component part, and is,
therefore, always in its place. In the event of the light¬
ning being about to strike the ship, it comes upon the con¬
ductor, and by that means is conveyed through the bottom
of the ship without causing the slightest injury. For full
details see article Electricity.
There can be no doubt that, at quite an early period,
ships of war had some means of communicating by signals
with each other; but it is only within the last few years
that this great benefit has been extended to merchant-ships;
and at the present time the vessels belonging to the mer¬
cantile marine of every nation can, by means of signals,
make known their wants, or give intelligence to each other
—a boon to the seaman and to the ship-owner that may be
easily appreciated.
The codes of signals that are best known in this country, Various
and are of the greatest importance, are comprised in the codes of
following list:— signals.
Year.
1. Admiralty code 1808
2. Admiralty
3. Lynn’s
4. Squire’s
5. Admiralty
6. Raper’s
7. Phillipps’s
.1816
.1818
.1820
.1826
.1828
.1836
SEAMANSHIP.
25
Seaman¬
ship.
Year.
8. llohde’s code 1836
9. Admiralty (present code)    
10. Walker’s ,,    1841
11. Eardley-Wilmot’s „    ...1851
12. Roger’s (American) „   1854
13. Reynolds’s (French) „   1855
14. Marryatt’s (last edition) code 1856
15. Board, of Trade (2d edition) code 1859
Plan of sig- There is, however, one general principle adopted in all
nalizing these codes, whatever be the details, and that is as follows :
explained. —A certain number of flags and pendants of different pat¬
terns are chosen, and to each is assigned its own name.
Some of these flags are called by the different numerals:
for instance, one flag is called 1; another 2 ; and so on.
In other systems, the letters of the alphabet are used to de¬
nominate the flags. Besides which, other flags or pendants
are used for specific purposes : for instance, one pendant is
called the interrogative, that is to say, when it is hoisted, it
shows that a question is asked, another flag signifies affir¬
mation, another negation, and so on for a variety of other
expressions. In the Admiralty signals, this system is car¬
ried to a considerable extent; but,, in the mercantile codes,
the same comprehensiveness is neither attempted nor re¬
quired, and the number of flags and pendants used is much
less. To correspond with the flags, signal-books are formed
with sentences or words, which these flags represent. For
instance, in using Wilmot’s signals, if it were wished to
make known the following :—“ Boats are in want of ammu¬
nition.” That sentence would be found in this signal-book
opposite to 32 ; and, therefore, the two flags which express
those two numbers must be hoisted. If it were wished to
ask the question—“ Are the boats in want of ammunition ? ”
then the interrogative pendant would be hoisted over 32.
The Admiralty signals, for the use of men-of-war, are
very comprehensive, and require about fifty flags or pen¬
dants, and include the following codes :—
First, There is the general signal-book, by which orders
for all evolutions are given to the fleet. This also com¬
prises a great deal of routine communication ; for instance,
one signifies, “ Send for fresh beefanother, “ Send for
bread ; ” and so on. The flags that belong to this book are
called after the numerals.
Second. The telegraph book includes nearly all the
most common words in the English language, and a variety
of sentences likely to be useful, a geographical table, and
a list of all the ships belonging to her Majesty’s navy, with
the names of the flags by which each ship is distinguished.
The flags and pendants used in this book are called after
the letters of the alphabet.
Third. Night-signals: The principle of conveying mes¬
sages here is the same as in the general signal-book, only
the position of lanterns, with or without blue-lights or guns,
makes known to the fleet the evolution which the admiral
wishes to be performed.
Fourth. Fog-signals : These are, of course, very limited,
and can be made only by firing guns; the variation in the
signals must be marked by the time elapsed between each
report. These signals are confined to a few evolutions,
such as giving orders to alter the course, to heave to,
anchor, &c. As none of the Admiralty codes are published,
we refrain from giving examples.
Each commander of a man-of-war is also furnished with
private and secret signals. These are only used to deter¬
mine whether a ship of war that may be in sight, is a fo¬
reigner or not, according as they answer the secret signal;
because these signals can only be known to the service.
To the late Captain Marryatt is due the credit of having
introduced a code of signals that was practically useful to
merchant-vessels, and down to the beginning of 1857 it
was the one generally adopted. At that time the Board of
i rade gave to the world their work, entitled, The Commer-
VOL. xx.
cicil Code of Signals for all Nations. This leaves little Seaman-
to be desired, and is now to be found on board almost all ship,
merchant-ships of*any size.
This code requires eighteen flags or pendants, which are
named from the consonants of the alphabet; and it is so
planned that it can show the distinguishing flags of every
British merchant-ship. These at present amount to 35,000
registered vessels, and are increasing at about the rate of
1500 per annum ; yet, as this system is so arranged as to
be able to express the names of 70,000, it will be some
years before any enlargement will be required..
I he other advantages of this code are as follows :—
1. It is capable of providing for not less than 20,000
distinct signals.
2. Each signal requires at most four flags to be hoisted
at the same time.
3. It is so arranged in classes as to admit of the subject
being referred to with great facility.
For the further elucidation of these signals, it is neces¬
sary to explain, that the Board of Trade publishes annually
a list of all British ships registered, with an official number
assigned to each. The name and the number never alter-
ing, although the port to which the vessel belongs may be
changed.
We shall give, as an example, how three vessels of the Examples
same name would make themselves known by this code:— in signaliz-
Fissa?’ x™,. “g-
-Number.
J Q S B Mary of Aberdeen   g 901
Q 11 ^ L Mary of Adelaide, South Australia 3E570
S ft ^ p  Mary of Yarmouth, Nova Scotia   37,931
As it may have some interest with our readers, we give, as
a specimen of telegraphing, how Nelson’s last signal would
have been made by Wilmot’s code, and also by the code of
the board of Trade.
By Wilmot's Code.
Flags to be hoisted. Signification in the Telegraph book.
Geographical pendant over *)
793  J  England
   expects-s-ex-ing
      every man
8631     to
^08     dordoes-done
6J35  his
  duty-ies-ful-ly-ness.
By the Code of the Board of Trade..
Flags to be hoisted., Signification in the Telegraph book.
BDPS  England
BFV    expect-s-ing
QGL    every one
C T G J   will do his duty very well.
The next most material change for the better, to which Improve-
we have already shortly alluded, and to which it is our dutyments in
now to advert, in speaking of seamanship in the most ex- navigating
tensive sense of that word, relates to the manner in which shiPs from
ships are now navigated from port to port, and to and from port to
the most distant parts of the globe, not only with treater 1J°lt‘
celerity, but with greater safety than formerly. No°doubt
the greater celerity with which voyages are performed is
partly due to the better formation of ships (see article
Ship-building), but the improvements whose tendency
have been to add to the security of voyages are mainly
due—first, to the superior knowledge of those persons who
have charge of ships; secondly, to the improved quality,
lower cost, and greatly increased number of scientific in¬
struments and astronomical tables now in the hands of
every seamanlike officer; thirdly, to.the numbers, accuracy,
and cheapness of all the charts of almost all the navigable
regions of the world ; and lastly, to the more extensive
and correct knowledge of the phenomena of the winds,
weather, and currents of the ocean. And here we would
direct the attention of seamen to the wind and current
26 S E A M A
Seaman- charts of Lieutenant Maury, United States navy, and also
ship. to his work, entitled Explanations and Directions to ac-
company the above Charts (eighth edition). Such a maga¬
zine of information has never before been opened out to
the mariner. In place of giving our own description of the
above work, we shall borrow largely from the pages of a
popular periodical.
Lieutenant “We may expect, as one of the consequences of this
Maury’s publication, that navigation will be divested of some of its
charts. delays and dangers. For instance, a sailor, looking at the
fog-charts, observes that in one hundred crossings between
New York and Liverpool, he may expect to encounter a
fog twenty-eight times; that fogs are most frequent in the
months of most daylight, and fewest in the darkest months;
that certain latitudes are more subject to fogs than others,
and hence he can shape his course accordingly. He finds
a similar explanation with respect to gales of wind, the sea¬
sons when the gales will be favourable, and the reverse ;
the latitudes where the changes may be looked for, and
the course to be taken to make the quickest passages dur¬
ing each month of the year. The scope of the work may
be inferred from the fact, that it describes the courses from
New York to California, India, Australia, to England and
the North of Europe as far as the White Sea, to Africa and
the Mediterranean. Mariners know, to their loss and vexa¬
tion, that crossing the line involves delay. Lieutenant
Maury shows how the delay may be avoided, and indicates
the best place of crossing the equatorial region for each
month of the year.
“ Considering the increase of commerce between this
country and the United States, and the multiplication of
screw-steamers, which make less noise than paddles, we
cannot forbear to notice Lieutenant Maury’s recommenda¬
tion for the establishment of what he calls ‘ steam-lanes’
across the Atlantic. Let this recommendation be faithfully
followed, and we shall hear but little of collision and loss of
life on the sea. Broad as the ocean is, the route taken by
steam-ships between this country and the States compre¬
hends a belt of but 300 miles wide. In 1857 there were
always fourteen steamers, seven each way, plying within
that belt, exclusive of man-of-war steamers ; the number
is doubtless greater now, whereby the chances of collision
are multiplied; and seeing that the number of passengers
conveyed in 1857 was 54,700, any practicable measure for
diminution of the risk would be worthy of attention. Lieu¬
tenant Maury proposes a practicable measure ; namely, to
set off a lane 20 or 25 miles wide on the northern edge of
the belt for steam-ships going west, and a similar lane on
the southern edge for those going east, leaving all the
middle space, 150 miles in width, for sailing-ships. Were
this proposal followed, it is clear that steamers could never
meet, though they might overtake each other; and this
latter contingency would be an advantage, because, in case
of accident, a disabled vessel might be assisted. When once
such lanes are properly laid down on the charts,a sailing-ship,
if compelled to cross them, would do so as quickly as pos¬
sible, and would know on what side to look for danger.”
Sounding Along with this question of currents we must not lose
the ocean, gjght 0f t[ie question of the depths of the ocean. Beyond
withThe the depths of three or four hundred fathoms, the usual
depth of methods of sounding are very uncertain, and cannot be
water depended on. When the common lead is used, no shock
above 400 is communicated at these great depths to those above, and
fathoms. therefore they are not aware when the lead reaches the bot¬
tom. Nor when Massey’s sounding machine is used does
it avail, as that instrument cannot be so constructed as to
bear the enormous pressure of so many hundred atmospheres
exerted by the vast column of water, which it is necessary
to penetrate.
Now, until the Alantic Ocean between England and
America was sounded, and the great problem of the depths
N S H I P.
of water ascertained, it was quite obvious that no attempt Seaman-
could reasonably be made to sink a telegraph cable to the ship,
bottom of the ocean, and so join the two countries. To gain /
the proper soundings, many contrivances were proposed Plan by
and tried without much success ; at length a very simple which the
and ingenious plan was suggested by Lieutenant Brooke,
of the United States navy. By his contrivance the sound- come>
ing line, with an apparatus attached to it, was taken down
by a heavy weight, which acted as a sinker; when the bot¬
tom was reached, the weight immediately detached itself by
a mechanical contrivance, and the apparatus being relieved
of its load, was lifted again through the water, bringing up
with it, if sufficiently soft, a specimen of the bottom as a
proof of its having actually reached solid matter. The con¬
trivance in question consists of a rod, at whose lower end
is an inverted cup, provided with a valve, and from the
upper end of which is slung a cannon-ball, hollowed to re¬
ceive the rod. The mode of slinging the ball and sus¬
pending the rod is such, that as soon as the bottom of the
rod rests upon the bottom of the sea, and the weight is
thus removed from the line, the ball is released from its
sling, and drops off. The rod, which is of no great weight,
can be lifted with the line, and the cup carries up indica¬
tions of the bottom, and when soft, a portion of the bottom
itself.
This apparatus, with some modifications by Massey, has
been adopted by British navigators. The weights to be
detached vary from 32 lb. to 96 lb. In the year 1857 her
Majesty’s steam-vessel Cyclops, Lieutenant Dayman, fur¬
nished with these machines, sounded the Atlantic Ocean
between Ireland and Newfoundland, and verified the
soundings previously ascertained by Lieutenant Berrysman,
of the United States steam-vessel Arctic.
It may not be uninteresting to the reader to state, that
the greatest depth of water obtained by the Cyclops was
nearly 2500 fathoms; at that depth the pressure would be
nearly three tons to the square inch. In hauling in the
line the friction in lifting it through the water was so
great, that before overcoming the inertia and moving the
line, it required the whole power of a 12-horse steam-
engine, with which the Cyclops had been fitted expressly
for the purpose.
We are indebted to the Americans for the first successful
attempt to bring to the light of day the secrets of the deep,
dark dwelling places, till now, without any relation to hu¬
man interests, but through which hereafter many of the
important events of the world will be communicated. And
we have no doubt, that our naval officers will (bllow up
these investigations, and if so, we may hope that in a few
years we shall have obtained such accurate knowledge of
the bottom of the whole ocean, that the placing of tele¬
graph cables will become a comparatively easy task. For
further information upon this subject, the reader is referred
to a work entitled, Deep-Sea Soundings in the North
Atlantic Ocean, by Lieutenant-Commander Joseph Day¬
man, 1858; also to the fifth article in the Westminster
Revieiv for October 1859.
In the first rank of instruments used at sea, we would Sextant,
place the sextant, not the old wooden quadrant, but the brass great value
sextant, as improved by Troughton and Cary, divided to ten of-
seconds, and capable of taking observations with a precision
formerly considered inconsistent with the use of a reflect¬
ing instrument. The seaman, with such an instrument in
his hands, aided by the present nautical almanac, accom¬
panied with either of the excellent treatises on navigation,
by Raper or Inman, may determine with exactness the
ship’s place, in the midst of a boundless ocean, a thousand
miles from land. This exactness, within certain appreci¬
able limits, distinguishes the sextant from all other nautical
instruments. Its operations are connected with those of
the sun, moon, and stars; and by its very construction, its
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
Chronome
ter, im¬
portance
of.
Patent
sounding
machine
and patent
log.
Mariner’s
compass.
principal error may often be ascertained at the very time
of making the observation, and allowed for accordingly.
^ The chronometer, which stands next in utility, is essentially
a fallible instrument, and although eminently useful in the
navigation branch of seamanship, can never be depended
upon as the sextant. These two instruments are excel¬
lent allies, but neither is sufficient without the other to
meet the requirements of modern navigation. A chrono¬
meter majr, and often does, change its rate, and thus it may
deceive; and though the chances of its doing so without
detection is much lessened by taking two or three more
chronometers in conjunction, still there never can be posi¬
tive certainty in the result. On the other hand, for all
practical purposes, the errors of a sextant lie within the
reach of detection and appreciation.
We consider a seaman, who is provided with a modern
sextant, with a stand to which it can be fixed, an artificial
horizon, and a watch with a compensation balance, or hack
chronometer, has a portable observatory, by which he can
ascertain the rates of his chronometers with the utmost pre¬
cision, and that without moving them from their places on
board. (For full description and use of the sextant, chro¬
nometer, and other nautical instruments, see article Navi¬
gation, and also Clock and Watch-work.)
The next in order of importance in the list of nautical
instruments, after the sextant, is the chronometer, an instru¬
ment to which modern seamanship is indebted for very
great service. We are old enough to remember when
chronometers were only supplied in the navy to ships about
to proceed on voyages expressly scientific, and to those
ships which bore an admiral’s flag. In the merchant ser¬
vice, the East India Company were the only shipowners
who supplied chronometers. Certainly at that time a good
chronometer cost from L.100 to L.150, the price is now
about L.40, with all the modern improvements; but still,
when we consider the number of valuable vessels and lives
lost by the want of this instrument, all must agree it was a
miserable saving. A great change has now taken place ; all
men-of-war, and we believe all merchant-vessels employed
in the foreign trade, are now furnished with chronometers.
There are two important instruments used in navigation,
not in the department of nautical astronomy, which have
been introduced within the last fifty years, and to which we
shall merely allude. We mean the patent sounding machine
and the patent log. By the patent sounding machine the
seaman is enabled to determine the depth of water up to
60 fathoms, whilst the ship may be still going about 6
knots through the water. By the patent log, if sufficient
care be taken, the exact distance that a ship has gone
through the water in a given time may be ascertained with
accuracy. No doubt, the common log, supposing it care¬
fully hove, and the officer of the watch attentive to any
change of the ship’s way during the intervals of heaving
the log, will give the distance gone with tolerable accuracy,
as long as the ship is under sail alone; but when the steam
is used, the common log is not to be depended upon; the
seaman must then look to his patent log.
Not many years ago, the compasses, on which depended
the safety of the ship, on board our men-of-war, were con¬
signed to the charge of the boatswain, and were kept in his
store-room, with little more attention given to them than
to such articles as twine, canvas, &c.; and in merchant-
vessels they even fared worse. At present great pains are
taken in the construction of the mariner’s compass, and a
proper closet is fitted up for their reception. The import¬
ance of such care is manifest, when it is recollected that when
magnets are placed in proximity to each other, and like
poles are laid together, the effect is seriously to impair the
magnetic power.
What is called the local deviation of the compass, caused
by the iron on board of the ship, is now well under-
27
stood. Professor Barlow invented a plan of counteracting Seaman-
the effect of the iron of the ship upon the needle, by fixing ship,
a circular iron-plate in a vertical position abaft the com- -
pass. Professor Airy suggested, to answer the same pur¬
pose, placing two large and powerful magnets in the deck,
near the compass. But these plans have only partially suc¬
ceeded, and all men-of-war, and most large merchant-ships,
have now their local deviation for each point of the com¬
pass, before proceeding to sea, ascertained by actual experi¬
ment. A table of these deviations is thus formed, which
the seaman uses to correct his courses. The manner of
doing this is by taking advantage of a calm day, when the
ship is at anchor, and, by means of hawsers, swinging her
head round to each point of the compass, noting at the
same time the bearings shown by a compass on shore, where
there is no local deviation, and by one on board the ship.
1 he differences between the two compasses will show the
local deviation, which must be tabulated. (See Mariner's
Compass in article Navigation ; also Johnson On the
Deviation of the Compass, second edition, 1852.)
Amongst the scientific instruments which have within Marine
this century been introduced into the art of seamanship, the barometer
marine barometer occupies a high and important place.an<^ ane’
Formerly the only kind of barometer used at sea was thero^*
mercurial one. Ibis barometer has the advantage, if pro¬
perly constructed, of being, from its very nature, always cor¬
rect; but has this disadvantage, when the ship has much
motion, its reading off becomes extremely difficult, from the
pumping of the mercury up and down the tube. To re¬
medy this defect, about ten years ago, the aneroid, a French
invention, was introduced. This instrument is not the least
affected by the motion of the ship, and can be read off at
all times with the greatest accuracy. It has, however, a
defect, which is this. Although it marks with the utmost
precision the relative rising and falling, according to the
state of the atmosphere, there may be an error in its posi¬
tive height, which requires correction from time to time.
(See article Barometer, in which the principle both of the
mercurial marine barometer and the aneroid is fully ex¬
plained.)
The use of the barometer at sea consists in giving the Use of ba-
seaman information, beforehand, of the changes likely to rometer at
take place in the direction as well as force of the wind; or, sea"
which is sometimes as useful, to let him know, in spite of
appearances to the contrary, that there will be no change.
But the seaman must recollect that this instrument, as a
prognosticator of weather, varies in its degree of utility in
different parts of the world. For instance, it is only ser¬
viceable in those parts of the tropics which are subject to
hurricanes, as it is not affected at all in those regions, ex¬
cept when those great tempests are coming on, and then it
suddenly falls about an inch. In this country it often rises,
if the wind be easterly, although bad weather may be ap¬
proaching. On the contrary, off the Cape of Good Hope
implicit reliance may be placed upon the rising or falling of
the barometer, and the seaman must act accordingly.
We must not forget, amongst the modern improvements Charts,
in seamanship, the great advantage of correct charts. Any
one aware of the dangers which really exist, but which are
omitted in the old charts, wonders how ships in those times
ever escaped destruction ; and, on the other hand, he finds
the sea so covered with rocks, shoals, and those vague
“ vigias,” as they are called, now known to have no exist¬
ence, that his admiration is great at the boldness of navi¬
gators who could sail on at all during the night.
The government of most civilized countries—and here
we are pleased that we are enabled to say that the English
government has led the way—have taken up this matter in
earnest, and sent their surveyors abroad; the result has
been that the world has been put in possession of charts
of all those harbours, coasts, and seas which are most fre-
28
Seaman¬
ship.
Numerous
wrecks of
British
merchant-
vessels.
Discipline,
importance
of.
SEAMANSHIP.
quented. At the same time much remains to be done ; but
if the present progress in marine surveying be continued for
a few more years, so accurate will be the construction of
charts, that ships duly provided with nautical instruments
■will seldom incur the danger of running on shore, except by
stress of weather, or experience any difficulty in finding safe
passages amongst sand-banks, coral reefs, or any other de¬
scription of submarine dangers, the terror of old navigators.
It would lead us beyond our limits were we to go into
further detail, in order to point out the various minor im¬
provements which have been introduced into the practice
of navigation. For the same reason, we must omit all men¬
tion of the improvements that have taken place in the rope,
canvas, rigging, and fitting out of ships.
But with all this that is so favourable, there is still a dark
side to the question. By official returns it appears that,
in spite of all these improvements, there are annually lost
upon our own coasts, upon an average of seven years, about
1200 British merchant-vessels. The number of British
seamen drowned, excluding fishermen, and those wrecked
in foreign voyages, taking the same average, amount to
760. It also appears that a large proportion of these wrecks
arises from causes that might have been easily avoided.
The causes are, chiefly going to sea with rotten masts and
sails, either bad or no charts on board, not heaving the
lead, or not taking an observation, and the ignorance or
drunkenness of those in charge of the navigation of the
vessel. Surely such a reckless destruction of life and pro¬
perty conveys a very urgent lesson upon all persons in
authority, that they should not only foster every improve¬
ment connected with our mercantile naval service, but that
they should also enforce upon all who are concerned the re¬
sponsibility they incur to make these experiments effectual.
There are still two topics remaining on which we must
be allowed to touch before bringing this article to a close.
One is the importance of discipline on board ships, and the
amelioration in the moral character of all the seamen of the
country. The other is the change which has taken place
in the armaments of ships of war, and the alterations and
improvements in the training of our seamen, which are now
required in consequence of this change. As both of these
points have become part and parcel of the seamanship upon
which our prosperity as a nation mainly depends, we can¬
not on this occasion pass them over in silence.
There can be no good seamanship without discipline,
for it is as essential to the correct working of a ship that
there should be a clearly understood subordination estab¬
lished on board, as it is to the correct going of a chrono¬
meter that all the wheels and pinions be made to fit, and
be so placed as to work properly into one another.
This well-defined system of discipline and organization
is doubly necessary in the navy. In that service large
bodies of men are thrown together, and must be governed
by the strict application of martial law, which is essentially
peremptory in its action, and requires immediate obedience.
We are happy to be able to state, that within the last few
years the practical and working system has been, that
whilst a rigid law must always be kept up, yet the main de¬
pendence for bettering the habits and improving our sea¬
men has been based more decidedly on religious and moral
training. To this training has been added the plan of
giving extra pay for good conduct, and providing pleasant
reading for our ships’ companies. We are old enough to
remember the time when coercion was considered the only
means of having an evolution quickly performed. Now, an¬
other element is introduced, namely, emulation; and the
consequences are these, that in performing evolutions in
the fleet, the officers oftentimes are not only spared the ne¬
cessity of urging their seamen and marines to exertion, but
actually have to restrain their ardour to prevent accidents.
All ships commanded by a captain have now chaplains
appointed, joined to which are also the seaman’s school- Seaman-
master, to teach the boys, and those of the ship’s company ship,
who wish to avail themselves of his instructions; and we Vs—
can also add, as we have already stated, a small library of Religious
books is now always supplied, including a sufficiency ofmstruc-
Bibles, Testaments, prayer-books, and religious tracts. tion-
Something has been done also for our merchant-sailor,
but much yet remains to be done for him. Cut off as so
many of these seamen are from all religious instruction for
a great portion of their lives, it is much to be desired that
more active exertions were made at our large seaports to
bring a knowledge of Christianity to meet their wants.
All that is done to raise the seaman’s character, and to give
him habits of sobriety, is so much added to the prosperity
of the country.
It is now, we are sorry to say, almost the universal prac- Merchant-
tice, for a merchant-ship to be fitted out and rigged by seamen not
those hired for the express purpose ; the crew not going on g°0(i riS'
board until the vessel is on the very point of sailing on her gers*
voyage. Following that plan, as soon as the ship returns,
the crew are landed. The effect has been, that a large
proportion of merchant-sailors at the present time are un¬
able to rig a ship. Now, as no seaman who is not a com¬
petent rigger can expect to rise above an able seaman in
the navy, that is one reason why it has become very rare
for any person arrived at full manhood, and who has been
brought up in a merchant-ship, to enter the royal navy.
He sees his inferiority to the regular man-of-war sailor, and
the two professions are in consequence now almost com¬
pletely disjoined.
About the year 1827, the maritime nations of the wurld improved
commenced gradually increasing the size of their ships of method of
war, and adding to the weight of metal of the great guns, throwing
Soon after this period the use of shells, fired horizontally, shells-
was introduced. The shells are not, as formerly, fired from
mortars only, but are thrown from the long guns used in
ordinary warfare, and treated the same as round-shot.
Within the last few years the quantity of shells supplied to
each ship has so much increased that a large proportion
is now allowed to each gun on board our men-of-war, and
no doubt will now become the principal weapon that will
decide the fate of naval warfare. This change in the
armaments of our ships required a superior training to be
given to both our officers and seamen. An express gun¬
nery department was established for the purpose of instruc¬
tion, and the manner in which it has been carried out in
our ships of war has produced a marked effect in the know¬
ledge of gunnery in the seamen throughout the fleet. We
have no hesitation in saying, that a large proportion of the
regular men-of-war sailors of the present day are the most
perfect artillerymen that the world has ever seen. Such
being the case, without a long previous training, it is quite
evident, that in the event of a battle, the uninstructed mer¬
chant-sailor hastily joining a man-of-war would be of little
more service than a landsman, indeed not so much as a
landsman who had received any former training at the great
guns. It must also be recollected, that the next naval
engagement will be fought by ships propelled by the screw,
and that the sails will be furled. It will then be found,
that the great battle which has to decide the fate of empires
will not be so dependent on seamanship as heretofore. It
will hang upon the conjoined action of men well trained
and well disciplined, but the necessity still remaining of
fighting under the direction of able officers, and stimulated
by the influence of national sentiment.
Notwithstanding the changes which have taken place
within the recollection of many now alive, we cannot fore¬
see all that modern science, skill, and enterprise may effect.
A recent invention in the construction of a new species of
war-vessel, with sides plated with metal, and carrying the
maximum of steam-power with the minimum size of sails,
*
S E B
Sebastian, may produce changes even greater than those to which we
Dom, have already referred, and may cause a still greater demand
Sebastian ^°r men We^ conversant *n artillery practice; a practice
as which in these vessels will be of more importance than
skill in seamanship.
Further changes seem also to be at hand in the mercan-
Further tile navy. By the introduction of such immense vessels
changes as the Great Eastern, provided with such powerful ma-
probable. chinery, it is obvious that the sails cannot hold the same
place which they have done in smaller vessels ; and whether
this may ultimately diminish the demand for seamen gene¬
rally, or in some degree change the character of seaman¬
ship itself, is a problem which we must leave to time and
future experience for solution.
The following are approved works on seamanship in
English :—Falconer’s Marine Dictionary; Darcy Lever’s
SEC
29
Seamanship ; Griffith’s Practical Hints; Captain Glas- « f ,
sock’s Naval Officers' Manual; Lieutenant Fordyce’s Out- * ^ 0f°
lines of Naval Routine ; Professional Recollections on Sea- Se-Chuen.
rnanship, by Captain F. Liardet; Clerk’s Naval Tactics ; '
Naval Warfare with Steam, by Sir Howard Douglas, 180S.
Useful hints may be derived from James’s Naval History,
and also from the chapter on “ Making the Land” in Raper’s
Navigation ; The Seaman's Manual, by R. H. Dana, junr.,
w1 C^‘’ ; A Manual of Naval Tactics, by James H.
Ward, commander U.S. navy, 1859; these two last are by
American authors. In French, Pere Hoste and Grenier ;
also, Reglement sur le service interieur a hord des Bati-
ments de la Flotte. This work has been translated into
English by Captain Phillimore. Decret sur l'organisation
du personnel des equipages de la flotte ; Tactique Navale,
18°'- (W.E.)
SEBAS FIAN, Dom. See Portugal.
SEBASTIANO, an eminent Venetian painter, whose
family name was Luciano, frequently called Fra Sebas¬
tian© del Piombo, from his office of keeper of the Papal
signet, was born at Venice in 1485. His first profession
was music, in which he attained to great excellence in his
youth. Conceiving early a taste for the painter’s life, he
went to Bellini, who was then an old man, and learned from
him the first rudiments of his art. Sebastiano next attached
himself to Giorgione, with whom he remained till he had
mastered the manner of that artist. His first painting of
any note, executed for the church of San Giovanni Crisos-
tomo, in Venice, gives abundant evidence of this, as it has
been frequently mistaken for the work of Giorgione. In¬
duced by the representations of Agostino Chigi, merchant at
Siena, to go to Rome, Sebastiano on arriving there imme¬
diately set to work, and produced some very excellent paint¬
ings in the Venetian manner, which were much esteemed by
the art-patrons of the capital. Raffaelle was now rising into
great fame as a painter, and, according to Vasari’s account of
it, Michel Angelo, jealous of his illustrious rival, set up Sebas¬
tiano as a fit competitor to the famous artist of Urbino.
The whole story is doubtless a fabrication, arising probably
from the fact of Michel Angelo having contracted a liking
for the exquisite judgment and beautiful colouring of Sebas¬
tiano, and from his having undertaken, on that account, to
aid him in the art of designing, of which he is universally
recognised to be the chief Be this as it may, it is beyond
doubt that Sebastiano simply painted after the designs of
Michel Angelo for a number of years, and upon these paint¬
ings his reputation as a historical painter chiefly rests. The
exquisite beauty of the colouring in those paintings, com¬
bined with their rich grandeur of design, if they did not
rival Raffaelle’s divine productions, at least excited a great
interest in the art-lovers of Rome, and have not ceased
since to be the objects of universal applause. The pieces
in question were a “ Pieta” for the church of the Con-
ventuale at Viterbo; the “ Transfiguration” and “ Flagel¬
lation,” in San Pietro in Montorio; and the “ Raising of
Lazarus,” which is esteemed his masterpiece. On the
death of Raffaelle, Sebastiano was accorded the first place
in painting, and he continued in his provokingly sluggish
manner to design and paint as the fit seized him. Vasari
says his peculiar walk was portrait-painting; and assigns as
evidence of the statement the beautiful representations
of Marcantonio Colonna, Vittoria Colonna, Ferdinando,
Marquis of Pescara, Pope Adrian VL, San Micheli, Pope
Element VII., and Anton Francesco degli Albizzi. This
last portrait has astonished all eyes who have looked on it.
I he head and hands are “ a sort of miracle,” and the por-
trait did not seem to be painted but living. “ No one has
ever equalled, says Vasari, “ the delicacy and excellence
ot this work.” Perhaps the most striking portrait executed
by this artist is that of Giulia Gonzaga. It is declared bv
Vasan to be ‘‘a most divine one.” This picture, and the
liaising of Lazarus,” are now in the National Gallery,
Eondon. bebastiano was greatly patronized by Pope Cle¬
ment VII., who conferred upon him the office of keeper of
the Papal signet. This post induced him to assume the
monk s habit, and to adopt the title of Fra or Frate del
Piombo. Vasari complains heavily against the painter in
his garrulous way, for neglecting to prosecute his sublime
art now that he had “ sufficiency to live on.” Sebastiano
was fond of ease, as other men of genius have been, both
before and since, which induced him to crack pleasant
jokes on those who made themselves busy in upbraiding
him for his sloth. “ I think,” he would say, in his satirical
tone, “I think, indeed, that if I live much longer I shall
find that everything has been painted which it is possible
to paint; and since these good people are doing so much,
it is upon the whole well that there is one who is content
to do nothing, to the end that they may have all the more
to do.” Vasari adds, however, “a better or more agree¬
able companion than himself, of a truth, there never lived.”
Fra Sebastiano del Piombo died at Rome in 1547, ao'ed
sixty-two years.
SEBASTOPOL, or Sevastopol. An account of this
place, as it was before its siege by the allied armies in
1854-5, is given in the article Crimea ; and a narrative of
that siege in the historical portion of the article Russia.
The whole of the city south of the harbour was laid in
ruins, with the exception of parts of the cathedral, and of
some other buildings. These have since been restored,
and the whole city is being rebuilt after a new plan. It
was consecrated in July 1856 by the Archbishop of Cher-
son and Taurida; and, in January 1857, 380 houses had
been built or restored. The population, according to the
Russian Almanac for 1859, is 6213.
SEBENICO, a town of the Austrian empire, in the
kingdom of Dalmatia, circle and 42 miles S.E. of Zara, on
a bay of the same name, at the mouth of the Kirka. It is
built in the form of an amphitheatre, rising up the side of
a hill from the sea to the summit, which is occupied by two
forts. Old walls surround the town ; and another fort, new
and strong, commands the entrance of the bay. The most
conspicuous building is the cathedral, in the Lombardic
style, which has a very grand interior and a lofty dome.
There is here also an old Venetian town-hall, several
churches, and convents. Wine and oil are obtained in
abundance in the surrounding country. Distilling is carried
on in the town; and there is a considerable trade. In
1855 there entered the port 1704 vessels, tonnage 78*342 ;
and there cleared 1542, tonnage 76,159. Pop. 550o!
SECANT. See Geometry and Trigonometry.
SECEDERS. See Presbyterianism.
SE-CHUEN, or Szu-Chuan, the largest of the pro-
*
30 SEC SEC
Seckendorf vinces into which China is divided, lying between N. Lat.
II 26. and 33., E. Long. 101. and 110. ; bounded on the N.
Seeker, by j.jle prov;nces 0f Kau-soo and Sheu-se, E. by those of
Hou-nan and Hou-pe, S. by those of Kwi-choo and Yan-
nan, and W. by Tibet. Area, 167,055 square miles. Al¬
most the whole of this province, except a plain of some
size near the centre, is rugged and mountainous. The im¬
mense river Yang-tse-kiang traverses the country in a tor¬
tuous course, from S.W. to N.E., and receives many of its
chief affluents here. The productions of the province are
silk, sugar, musk, rhubarb, china root, iron, tin, lead, salt,
and horses. Pop. (1812) 21,435,678, (1843) 22,000,000.
SECKENDORF, Veit Ludwig yon, a statesman,
theologian, and historian of Germany, was born at Herzo-
genaurach, near Erlangen, on the 20th December 1626.
He was sprung from a noble family of Franconia, and his
father, who had held a good position in the army of Gustavus
Adolphus during the Thirty Years’ War, was executed by
a Swedish court-martial in 1642. The lad began his studies
at the gymnasium of Coburg in 1638, and was subsequently
removed to the gymnasium of Gotha, at the request of the
Duke of Gotha, who, after his father’s death, showed him
great kindness. At the University of Strasburg he applied
himself with great zeal to nearly all the exercises of the place;
and, on the completion of his studies, he was taken into the
service of his patron, where he rose through the various
grades of office, till, in 1664, he was made privy councillor
and chancellor. Seckendorf took an important share in
every educational and in every religious movement which
agitated the duke’s dominions during the time he held office
under him. For some private reason or other he left the
duke’s service in 1664, and entered that of Moritz, duke of
Zeit, where he was appointed to his former offices. Here
Seckendorf exhibited the same popular qualities which had
hitherto characterized him; but by some mischance he be¬
came involved in some squabbles with the clergy, which
induced him, on the duke’s death, to resign. He retired to
his country-house of Meuselwitz, near Altenburg. Having
accepted an invitation from Frederic, elector of Branden¬
burg, in 1691, to enter his services as privy councillor at
Berlin, and chancellor of the University of Halle, Secken¬
dorf died the following year.
The principal works of Seckendorf are as follows:—
Deutscher Furstenstaat, Gotha, 1665; Compendium His-
torice Ecclesiasticce, Leipzig, 1666 ; Christenstaat, Leipzig,
1685 ; Jus Publicum Roma norum, Frankfurt, 1686 ; Com-
mentarius Historicus et Apologeticus de Lutheranismo,
Frankfurt, 1692. The Life of Seckendorf was written by
Schreber, Leipzig, 1734.
SECKER, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, and
the friend of Bishop Butler and of Bishop Berkeley, was
born at the village of Sibthorn, in Nottinghamshire, in 1693.
Designed originally for the dissenting church, of which his
parents were members, he laboured with great assiduity to
perfect himself in all liberal arts. He made uncommon
progress in every study to which he directed his attention,
and by the time he had reached the age of twenty-three,
he was one of the best read men of his years in England.
His mind being in suspense regarding some of the specu¬
lative doctrines of Christianity, he resolved in 1716 to study
medicine. With this intention he went to London and
Paris ; but he had not long resided abroad when an offer
came to him from Joseph Butler, whose school-fellow he
had been, and who was now preacher at the Rolls, to enter
the Church of England. Seeker, after some deliberation,
complied with his friend’s proposal, and he arrived in Eng¬
land in August 1720. He went to Leyden next year and
took his degree of M.D., and on his return was made
Bachelor of Arts of Exeter College, Oxford. Seeker now
spent a considerable part of his time in London, where he
became acquainted with Dr Clarke and with Bishop
Berkeley. Bishop Talbot being appointed to the see of Sect
Durham in 1726, Seeker accompanied him in 1723 and II
received the rectorship of Houghton-le-Spring. In Secunder-
1725-26, Butler published his celebrated Sermons, and . a a
Seeker seems to have revised them previous to publication. ”
In 1727 he exchanged his situation for that of prebendary
of Durham and rector of Ryton, and in 1732 he was made
chaplain to the king. Seeker was now rising rapidly into
notice as a preacher and a divine, and in 1733 he was
transferred to St James’s as rector. He went to Oxford
the same year and took his degree of LL.D., and two years
afterwards he found himself Bishop of Bristol. In 1737
he was chosen Bishop of Oxford on the promotion of the
learned Dr Potter to Canterbury. In 1750 he w'as in¬
stalled dean of St Paul’s, and eight years afterwards he
was elevated to the see of Canterbury. From this period
Archbishop Seeker resided constantly in his palace at
Lambeth. He had been afflicted with gout for many years,
which now proved almost intolerable. It threw him into a
fever, of which he died on the 3d of August 1768.
SECT, according to some from the Latin seco, I cut;
and according to others from sequor, I follow ; is a word of
common use, denoting those who follow some teacher or
leader, or who unite in holding sentiments different from
the majority. It is employed to characterize religious,
philosophic, political, and literary bodies, but the term is
generally limited to the first of these.
SECTOR, is a part of a circle comprehended be¬
tween two radii and an arc of the circle. Sector is
also a mathematical instrument, of use in finding the
proportion between quantities of the same kind ; as be¬
tween lines and lines, surfaces and surfaces, &c., whence
the French call it the compass of proportion. The
great advantage of the sector above the common scales
is, that it is made so as to fit all radii, and all scales.
By the lines of chords, sines, &c., upon the sector, we
have lines of chords, sines, &c., to any radius between the
length and breadth of the sector when open. The sector
is supposed to have been invented by Guido Baldo, or
Ubaldo, about the year 1568. The first printed account
of it was in 1584, by Caspar Mordente, at Antwerp, who
says that his brother, Fabricius Mordente, invented it in
1554. Treatises on its use have been written by Daniel
Specie at Strasburg, in 1589; also by Thomas Hood at
London, in 1598 ; and by Lewin Hulse at Frankfort-on-
the-Maine, in 1603, who says that it was invented long
before by Justus Byrgius. But the honour of the inven¬
tion was claimed by Galileo, who wrote on its use in 1607,
and by Balthasar Capra of Milan. There are also treatises
on it by our countrymen Gunter, Forster, and others.
Before the invention of logarithms, practical men were
more easily contented with approximate solutions than they
are at present. Now, however, the sector is not much
used, although it is commonly reckoned one of a complete
set of mathematical instruments.
For treatises on its use, see Bion on Mathematical In~
sfr-wraeftfe, translated by Stone; Robertson’s Treatise on Ma¬
thematical Instruments ,• and Adam’s Geometrical Essays.
Any one possessing a sector will easily understand its
theory and use from the 14th problem of the fifth section
of our treatise on Geometry, where it is taught how to
find a fourth proportional to three given lines.
The Astronomical Sector, or Equatorial Sector, is an
instrument for taking the difference of right ascensions and
declinations of such stars as, on account of their great differ¬
ence of declinations, will not pass through a fixed telescope.
The Zenith Sector is an instrument employed in ex¬
tensive trigonometrical surveys. Its use is to determine
with great accuracy the zenith distances of stars whose
declinations differ but little from the latitude of an observer.
SECUNDERABAD, a town of India, in the Nizam’s
SEC
Secundus. territory, 6 miles N. of Hyderabad, and 398 N.W. of
Madras. It stands on the N.E. side of an artificial lake
called Hoosain Sagur, 3 miles in length by 2 in breadth,
and in the midst of isolated granite hills and rocks. It
consists of a British military cantonment, regularly laid
out, and a native town, with crooked, narrow, and irregular
streets. In the former part there are, besides commodious
barracks, several bazaars, a large and handsome church,
and an hospital. Pop. 34,357.
SECUNDUS, Joannes Nicolaius, an elegant writer
of Latin poetry, was born at the Hague in the year 1511.
His descent was from an ancient and honourable family in
the Netherlands; and his father, Nicolas Everts, or
Everardus, who was born in the neighbourhood of Middle-
burg, seems to have been high in the favour of the Emperor
Charles V. On what account our author was called Se¬
cundus is not known. It could not be from the order of
his birth, for he was the youngest son. Perhaps the name
was not given him till he became eminent ; and then,
according to the fashion of the age, it might have arisen
from some pun, such as his being Poetarum nemini
Secundus. Poetry, however, was by no means the pro¬
fession which his father wished him to follow. He intended
him for the law, and when he could no longer direct his
studies himself, placed him under the care of Jacobus
Valeardus; but it does not appear that Secundus devoted
much of his time to legal pursuits. Poetry, and the sister
arts of painting and sculpture, had engaged his mind at a
very early period. Secundus, being determined to comply
as far as possible with the wishes of his father, quitted
Mechelen and went to France. At Bourges he studied
the civil law under the celebrated Andreas Alciatus. Hav¬
ing spent a year under this eminent professor, and taken
his degrees, Secundus returned to Mechelen, where he re¬
mained only a very few months. In 1533 he went into
Spain, with warm recommendations to the Count of
Nassau and other persons of high rank ; and soon after¬
wards he became secretary to the Cardinal-Archbishop of
Toledo, in a department of business which required no
other qualifications than those he possessed in a very
eminent degree, a facility in writing with elegance the
Latin language. It was during his residence with this
cardinal that he wrote his Basia, a series of wanton poerns,
of which the fifth, seventh, and ninth carmina of Catullus
seem to have given the hint. Secundus was not, however,
a servile imitator of Catullus. His expressions seem to be
borrowed rather from Tibullus and Propertius ; and in the
warmth of his descriptions he surpasses everything that
has been written ^on similar subjects by Catullus, Tibullus,
Propertius, C. Gallus, Ovid, or Horace. In 153p he ac¬
companied the Emperor Charles V. to the siege of Tunis,
but gained few laurels as a soldier. Having npw quitted
the service of the Archbishop of Toledo, Secundus was
employed in the same office of secretary by the Bishop of
Utrecht; and so much had he hitherto distinguished him¬
self by the classical elegance of his compositions, that he
was soon called upon to fill the important post of private
Latin secretary to the emperor, who was then in Italy.
This was the most honourable office to which our author
was ever appointed; but before he could enter upon it,
death put a stop to his career of glory. Having arrived at
Saint Amand, in Tournay, he was, upon the 8th of October
1536, cut off by a violent fever, in the very flower of his
age, not having quite completed his twenty-fifth year. He
was interred in the church of the Benedictines, of which his
patron the bishop was abbot; and his near relations erected
to his memory a marble monument, with a plain Latin
inscription.
The works of Secundus have gone through several
editions, of which the best and most copious is that of
Scriverius, Leyden, 1631. It consists of Julia, eleg. lib.
s E D -31
i. \ Amoves, eleg. lib. ii.; Ad Diversos, eleg. lib. iii.; Basia, Secutores
styled by the editor incotnparabilis et divinus prorsus liber ; ||
Epigrammata: Odarum liber unus; Epistolarum liber Sedition.
unus ; Epistolary,m liber alter, heroico carmine scriptus ;
Eunerum liber unus; Sylvce et Carminum fragmenta;
Poemata nonnulla fratrum ; Itineraria Secundi tria;
Epistolcc totidem, soluta oratione. They are prefixed by
recommendatory notices from many eminent men, parti¬
cularly Lelius Greg. Gyraldus, the elder Scaliger, and
Theodore Beza.
SECU I ORES. See Gladiators.
SEDAN, a town of France, capital of an arrondissement
in the department of Ardennes, on the right bank of the
Meuse, 160 miles N.E. of Paris. It stands on uneven
ground, and is surrounded by walls, moats, and other forti¬
fications, so as to be an important place for the defence of
France on the side of Belgium. The castle, which stands
on a hill to the S.E. of the town, contains an arsenal, and
near this and in other parts there are three large barracks.
Ihe streets are mostly broad and clean, and the houses
well built of stone. There are several fine public walks
and fountains ; and the chief buildings are Roman Catholic
and Protestant churches, a theatre, public library, and
hospital. Sedan is an important manufacturing town, its
principal productions being broad-cloth and other woollen
fabrics. Linen, leather, hosiery, hardware, firearms, &c.,
are also made here. The town has given its name to the
vehicles called sedans, or sedan-chairs, which were first
made here. They were introduced into this country in
1581, and came into general use about 1649. An active
trade is carried on in corn, cattle, hemp, flax, and manu¬
factured goods. 1 he town has law-courts, a chamber of
agriculture, and a college. The celebrated Marshal
Turenne was a native of this place. Pop. (1856) 13,304.
SEDBERGH, a market-town of England, in the West
Riding of \ orkshire, in a secluded vale enclosed by hills,
64 miles N.W. of York. It consists chiefly of one street,
lined with stone-houses, and has an ancient parish church ;
Independent, Wesleyan, and Quaker places of worship ; a
free grammar school, national school, and poorhouse.
Cotton and woollen fabrics are manufactured here. Pop.
of the parish, 4574 ; of the town, about 2000.
SEDGEFIELD, a market-town of England, in the
county and 11 miles S.E. of Durham. It is an old-
fashioned town, built on a hill, with a large square contain¬
ing a market cross. The parish church is cruciform, in
the early English style, and has some interesting monu¬
ments. There are also places of worship for Wesleyans
and Roman Catholics, a free grammar school, alms-houses,
&c. Many of the people are employed in shoemaking.
Pop. of the parish, 2192.
SEDITION, among civilians, is used for a fractious com¬
motion of the people, or an assembly of a number of citi¬
zens without lawful authority, tending to disturb the peace
and order of society. This offence is of different kinds.
Some seditions more immediately threaten the supreme
power, and the subversion of the present constitution of
the state; others tend only towards the redress of private
grievances. Among the Romans, therefore, it was variously
punished, according as its end and tendency threatened
greater mischief. (See lib. i. Cod. de Sediliosis, and Mat.
de Crimin. lib. ii. n. 5, De Lcesa Majestate.) In the pu¬
nishment, the authors and ring-leaders were justly distin¬
guished from those who, with less wicked intention, joined
and made part of the multitude.
The same distinction holds in the law of England and in
that of Scotland. Some kinds of sedition in England amount
to high treason, and come within the statute 25 Edward
III. as levying war against the king. And several seditions
are mentioned in the Scotch acts of parliament as treason¬
able (Bayne’s Grim. Law of Scotland, p. 33, 34). The
32 • S E D S E G
Sedley law of Scotland makes riotous and tumultuous assemblies
II a species of sedition. But the law there, as well as in Eng-
Seetzen. js now chiefly regulated by the Riot Act, made 1 Geo.
I.; only it is to be observed, that the proper officers in
Scotland to make the proclamation thereby enacted are
sheriffs, stewards, and bailies of regalities, or their deputies j
magistrates of royal burghs, and all other inferior judges
and magistrates ; high and petty constables or other officers
of the peace, in any county, stewartry, city, or town. In
that part of the island, the punishment of the offence is
anything short of death which the judges, in their discre¬
tion, may appoint.
SEDLEY, Sir Charles, an English poet and wit, the
son of Sir John Sedley of Aylesford, in Kent, was born about
the year 1639. At the Restoration he came to London to
join the general jubilee, and was so much admired that he
became a kind of oracle among the poets, which made King
Charles tell him, that nature had given him a patent to be
Apollo’s viceroy. The productions of his pen were some
plays, and several tender amorous poems, in which the soft¬
ness of the verses was so exquisite as to be called by the
Duke of Buckingham Sedley’s witchcraft. Less pleasing
opinions, however, have been expressed by others. “ There
were no marks of genius or true poetry to be descried,
say the authors of the Biographia Britannica ; “ the art
wholly consisted in raising loose thoughts and lewd desires,
without giving any alarm; and so the poison worked gently
and irresistibly. Our author, we may be sure, did not es¬
cape the infection of his own art, or rather was first tainted
himself before he spread the infection to others.” Whilst
he grew in reputation for wit and in favour with the king,
he became poor and debauched; his estate was impaired,
and his morals were corrupted. One of his frolics, how¬
ever, being followed by an indictment and a heavy fine,
Sir Charles took a more serious turn, applied himself to
business, and became a member of parliament, in which he
was a frequent speaker. We find him in the House of
Commons in the reign of James II., whose attempts upon
the constitution he vigorously withstood; and he was very
active in bringing about the Revolution. This was thought
more extraordinary, as he had received favours from James.
But that prince had taken a fancy to Sir Charles’s daughter,
though it seems she was not very handsome, and, in conse¬
quence of his intrigues with her, he created Miss Sedley
Countess of Dorchester. This honour, so far from pleasing,
greatly shocked Sir Charles. A witty saying of Sedley’s
on this occasion, is recorded. “ I hate ingratitude,” said
Sir Charles; and “ therefore, as the king has made my
daughter a countess, I will endeavour to make his daughter
a queenmeaning the Princess Mary, married to the
Prince of Orange, who dispossessed James of the throne
at the Revolution. He lived till the beginning of Queen
Anne’s reign, and his works were printed in two volumes
8vo, 1719.
SEELAND. See Zealand.
SfiES, a town of France, in the department of Orne, on
the Orne, 13 miles N. by E. of Alenpon. Its most con¬
spicuous building is the cathedral, which is one of the
finest in Lower Normandy, a building in the Gothic style
of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Sees has also
an episcopal palace, several schools, and cotton factories..
Pop. 5205.
SEETZEN, Ulrich Jaspar, a German traveller of
some note, was born near Jever, on the 30th January 1767.
He received an excellent education, first at Jever and subse¬
quently at the University of Gottingen. Here he studied
medicine, the natural sciences, agriculture, and political
economy. He formed an acquaintance with Alexander
Yon Humboldt, who became afterwards such a distinguished
traveller. Seetzen likewise gained the friendship of Heyne,
Gatterer, Eichhorn, and Blumenbach, who encouraged
him in his design of making the field of his enterprise Asia Segesta.
and Africa. He was recommended by Blumenbach to the
notice of Baron Von Zach, who subsequently introduced
him to the Duke of Gotha, by whom he was fitted out for
his future travels, and had an annual sum allotted him for
the prosecution of them. Seetzen accordingly set out on
the 13th June 1802, with the intention of gathering all
available information respecting the mathematical and phy¬
sical sciences, the arts, statistics, geography, and archaeo¬
logy. He directed his route by Vienna and Constanti¬
nople, at which cities he spent nearly a year in active
preparation for his coming expedition. Having made his
way as far as Haleb in the end of 1803, he there spent fifteen
months in the study of Arabic. From Haleb he proceeded
to Damascus, through Syria and* Palestine, until he gained
the deserts of Arabia. Thence proceeding northward he
visited the region of Lebanon, and directed his course to
the country east of the Jordan. We find him at Acre to¬
wards the end of 1806, whence he made excursions into
Palestine, and finally crossed the isthmus of Suez and
entered Egypt, where he remained for the next two years.
Here he continued to collect, with his accustomed in¬
dustry, manuscripts, archaeological, mineralogical, botanical,
and zoological specimens for the museum of Gotha. Hav¬
ing externally espoused the Mohammedan faith, he next
thought of visiting those places in Arabia to which Mo¬
hammedans alone have access. After various unsuccessful
attempts, he at last succeeded in gaining Mecca and
Medinah, where he spent some time in executing drawings
and plans. Early in the year 1810, he set out for Mocha.
A letter, dated November 17th of the same year, and
addressed to Lindenau of Gotha, was the last authentic
news received of this enterprising traveller. Mr Bucking-
him, in a letter to Von Hammer, dated from Mocha 1815,
said that Seetzen had died suddenly at Taes in 1811, and
it was currently reported that the unfortunate traveller had
been removed by poison by order of the Imam of Sana.
Nearly the whole of Seetzen’s diary and collections were
subsequently recovered, and were placed in the hands of
Professor Kruse of Dorpat with a view to their publication.
SEGESTA, by Attic writers called Egesta, an ancient
city ol Sicily, stood at the head of a deep bay on the north
coast near the western extremity of the island, 6 miles from
the sea, and 34 W. of Panormus. It seems to have occu-
pied the summit of a small hill overlooking a ravine, through
which flowed a river. The situation is very bleak and ex¬
posed. Laying aside the traditionary legends which ascribe
the foundation of the city to emigrants from Troy, we may
ascertain, on more certain grounds, that it was neither
founded by the natives of Sicily nor by Greek colonists ;
although from intercourse with the Greek cities in the
vicinity, it early acquired a civilized character, quite dif¬
ferent from the barbarous natives. Segesta was for a long
period engaged in almost perpetual conflicts with Selinus,
on the south coast of the island. I hese petty feuds would
have been little worthy of mention, had they not led in¬
directly to a most important event in Greek history, the
fall of the Athenian power in the Peloponnesian War." For
the event that more than any other led to the fatal issue of
that war was the disastrous result of the great Athenian
expedition to Sicily (416-413 b.c.), and that was undertaken
at the request of the Segestans, when their enemies of
Selinus were hard pressing them, having obtained the as¬
sistance of Syracuse. After the Athenian fleet and army
had been annihilated in the fruitless siege of Syracuse, the
Segestans, unable to contend single-handed with their
foes, made an alliance with Carthage. The troops of that
nation speedily landed in Sicily in 410 B.c.; took and de¬
stroyed Selinus and Himera, and established firmly the
power of their country in the west of Sicily. For a long
time Segesta adhered firmly to the Carthaginian interest,
S E G
Segment and resisted a siege by Dionysius of Syracuse in 397 b.c.,
while, though it was taken ninety years after by Agatho-
Segovia. c]eS) afterwards regained its liberty. But, on the first
breaking out of war between Carthage and Rome 264 b c.,
it was one of the cities that earliest deserted the cause of
the former. Hence it was always treated with especial
favour by the Romans. No important event in subse¬
quent history brings into notice the name of Segesta; it
gradually fell into decay, and was finally abandoned on
account of the ravages of the Saracens. Except some ves¬
tiges of the walls, the only remains now to be seen of the
city are a temple and a theatre.
SEGMENT of a circle, is that part of the circle which
is contained between a chord and an arc.
SEGNI, Bernardo, a Florentine historian, was born at
Florence about the end of the fifteenth century. He
studied law at Padua, pursued merchandise at Aquila, re¬
turned to Florence, where he was employed in state affairs
by Duke Cosimo I. Segni translated the Rhetoric, Ethic,
Politic, and the treatise on the Soul, of Aristotle into Ita¬
lian, and subsequently engaged in a Storie Florentine dalC
anno 1527 all’ anno 1555. As he kept his history secret
during his life, it was remarkable for the conscientious
spirit in which it was written, and Segni will go down to
posterity as one of the very best writers which Italy has
produced. His history is decidedly superior to those of
Varchi, Nardi, and Nerli, who have treated of nearly the
same period. Segni died in 1559.
SEGO, the chief town of the kingdom of Bambarra, in
Western Africa, on both sides of the Niger or Joliba; N.
Lat. 13. 5., W. Long. 5. It consists of four separate parts,
unwalled, two on each side of the river. The houses are,
in general, built of clay, square and flat roofed. There are
a palace and numerous mosques. Pop. 30,000.
^ SEGORBE, a town of Spain, Valencia, province of
Castellon-de-la-Plana, at the foot of a valley between two
hills, above the Palancia, in a rich country "laid out chiefly
in gardens, 29 miles N.N.W. of Valencia." It has ancient
walls; and on the summit of the hill above stands a castle.
There are broad streets, several squares, and many foun-
tams. The principal building is the cathedral, which con¬
tains some good paintings, but is not very remarkable for
its architecture. Segorbe has several other churches, an
episcopal palace, a large court-house, a theatre, various
schools, hospitals, convents, &c. Earthenware, paper, starch,
brandy, &c., are made here ; marble is quarried in the
vicinity, and two fairs are held annually. Pop. 6005.
SEGOVIA, a province of Spain, in Old Castile, bounded
on thp N. and N.E. by those of Burgos and Soria, S.E. by
those of Guadalajara and Madrid, S.W. by that of Avila,
and N.W. by that of Valladolid. Area, 2670 square miles.
The surface of the country is much varied; it belongs to
the central table-land of Spain, and has a considerable
extent of level plains, especially in the central and northern
portions. Along the south-eastern boundary extend the
lofty snow-clad mountains, here known as the Sierra Gua-
darrama and the Somosierra, separating Old from New
Castile. The province is watered by numerous affluents of
the Douro, which take their rise in these mountains, and
flow in a north-westerly direction. The largest of them
are the Riaza, Duraton, Cega, and Eresma. The average
height of the plain in this province is not less than 3000
eet above the sea. Its appearance is dull and monotonous
in the extreme, being entirely destitute of meadows and
trees. It is, however, a good agricultural country, in
w nch wheat, rye, barley, peas, hemp, flax, vines, &c., are
raised. On the lower slopes of the mountains there are
considerable pine-forests; and on the mountain-pastures,
sheep, cattle, mules, pigs, &c., are reared. Mines have
een wiought in some parts of Segovia, but not with much
success, or to any large extent. There are also quarries of
VOL. XX. M
S E I 3)
granite, limestone, and chalk. The majority of the inhabi- Segovia
tants are employed in agricultural or pastoral pursuits. ||
Weaving is carried on to some extent, as also is paper- SeJne-
making, tanning, and the manufacture of earthenware
Pop. (1857) 162,082.
Segovia, the capital of the above province, stands on a
long rocky knoll, at the confluence of the Eresma with the
turbulent rivulet Clamores, 45 miles N.W. of Madrid, 3300
feet above the level of the sea. It is surrounded by dila¬
pidated old walls, with round towers ; and has long, narrow,
irregular streets, lined with quaint old-fashioned houses.
Above the meeting of the waters rises the ancient Alcazar,
or castle, on the summit of the cliff. It contains some fine
halls, and is now used as a school of artillery. The cathe¬
dral is one of the finest in Spain, and the last of those in
the pure Gothic style. It was begun in 1525, the former
one having been almost destroyed in a popular rising in
favour of the Reformation. The tower, which is 330 feet
high, commands a magnificent view. The most interest¬
ing election about Segovia, however, is the ancient aque¬
duct, supposed to have been built in the time of Trajan.
It conveys water to the town from the Sierra Fonfria, as
that of the river is difficult of access and not very whole¬
some. I hat part which is raised on arches is 847 yards
in length, consisting of two tiers of arches, built of granite
blocks, without any cement. The height at the centre
where it is highest is 102 feet. This great work is in
very good preservation; and for simplicity, grandeur, and
utility, is well worthy of admiration. Besides the edifices
already mentioned, Segovia possesses numerous churches,
a mint, where only copper is now coined, various schools, a
picture gallery, theatre, several hospitals, &c. It was for¬
merly a very prosperous town, on account of its manufac¬
ture of woollen cloth ; but it has never recovered from the
blow inflicted by the French, who took the place in 1808;
and though no resistance was offered, sacked it. They
continued to occupy the town till 1814. Some insignificant
manufactures are still carried on ; leather, paper, and earth¬
enware, being the chief articles. Pop. 13,100.
SEGUIDILLA, the Spanish name of a quick and ani¬
mated melody in f- time, much used in Spain in singing
and in dancing.
SEIFHENNERSDORF, a town of Saxony, in the
circle of Bautzen, near the Bohemian frontier, 9 miles
N.W. of Zittau. It has a fine church, several schools, ex¬
tensive manufactories of linen and nankin, bleach-fields, &c.
Pop. 5868.
SEIGNIOR, or Signior, is, in its general signification,
the same with lord, but is particularly used for the lord of
the fee or of a manor, as seigneur among the feudists is
he who grants a fee or benefit out of the land to another.
Having granted away the use and profit of the land, the
seignior still retains within himself the property or do¬
minion.
SEIGNIORAGE is a royalty or prerogative of the
king, by which he claims an allowance of gold and silver
brought in the mass to be exchanged for coin. See
Coinage.
SEIGNIORY is borrowed from the French seigncurie,
which means dominatus, imperium, principatus, and sig¬
nifies with us a manor or lordship, seigniory de sokemans.
Seigniory in gross seems to be the title of him who is not
lord by means of any manor, but immediately in his own
person ; as tenure in capite, by which one holds of the king,
as of his crown, is seigniory in gross.
SEINE ( anc. Sequana), a river of France, rises in the
department of Cote d’Or, in the heights of Langres, which
separate it from the valley of the Saone. The general
direction of its course throughout is towards the N.W.;
but it has many curves and windings. It traverses the de¬
partments of Aube, Seine-et-Marne, Seine-et-Oise, Eure,
34
Seine.
S E I
and Seine-Inferieure; and falls into the English Channel
by a wide estuary, south of Havre. Its whole length is 4 /0
miles, though the distance in a straight line from its source
to its mouth is only 270. The river is navigable for large
vessels up to Rouen, and for boats as far as Mery, below
Troyes, 380 miles from its mouth ; but by means of a canal,
vessels may ascend as far as Troyes. There are falls at
Nogent-sur-Seine; but these are surmounted by locks.
The waters of the Seine are connected by means of canals
with those of the Rhone, the Loire, and the Scheldt. The
chief affluents of the rivers are, from the right, the Aube
the Marne, with its tributary the Ourcq, the Oise, and
the Epte; and from the left the Yonne, Loing, Eure, and
Rille. It flows through a rich and beautiful region of hill
and dale, studded with many splendid mansions, picturesque
villages, and busy towns. The principal of the latter that
stand on its margin are Chatillon, Bar-sur-Seine,Troyes, No-
gent-sur-Seine, Melun, Paris, Mantes, Rouen, and Havre.
None of the rivers of France are more abundantly stocked
with fish. The elevation of the Seine at its source is 1426
feet above the sea, and the greater part of its fall takes
place in the upper part of its course ; for at Troyes it is
only 330 feet above the sea. Its width at Paris is from
300 to 500 feet, and at its mouth about 7 miles. Owing to
the comparatively small incline of its course, the Seine
flows with a smooth gentle current, and is not subject to
violent inundations. Its estuary is somewhat encumbered
with shifting sand-banks; and like that of some other rivers,
is exposed every tide to a huge perpendicular wave from
the sea, called the barra or bore. In a commercial point
of view the Seine is most important, as it greatly facilitates
the supply of the capital both with articles of rural pro¬
duce from the country in the upper part of its course, and
with foreign merchandise from its mouth.
Seine, the metropolitan department of France, and in
consequence the most populous, though the smallest of
the whole, lying between N. Lat. 48. 43., and 48. 58.; E.
Long. 2. 10., and 2. 35.; bounded on all sides by that of
Seine-et-Oise. It is compact, and nearly circular in form ;
18 miles in length, 16 across at the widest part; and 183
square miles in extent. Of this area, 103 square miles are
included within the fortifications of Paris. Ihe surface is,
in general, level or undulating ; the highest elevations be¬
ing those of Montmartre and Chamont, the former of which
is 346 feet above the sea. The rivers Seine and Marne,
the latter of w'hich joins the former within the department,
flow, with many bends and sinuosities, through the countiy.
In geological structure the department belongs to the ter¬
tiary formation, and contains limestone, gypsum, and mail.
Good building-stone and porcelain-clay are also obtained.
There are some mineral-springs within the limits of the
department. The soil is throughout fertile ; and its natu¬
ral productiveness is increased by a plentiful supply of rich
manure from the capital. It is carefully cultivated, and
only a few acres out of nearly 120,000 are altogether waste.
There are in the department 73,227 acres of arable land,
3857 of meadows, 6960 of vineyards, 3385 of forests, and
625 of heaths. Near Paris fruits and vegetables are the
principal crops raised ; wine is made, but not of a very good
quality ; and in the outskirts of the department all the or¬
dinary kinds of corn are grown. There are also extensive
meadows, on which sheep and cows are reared. 1 he
sheep are, in general, of a common but improved breed,
and there are many flocks of merinos. The department is
calculated to contain 38,000 horses, 18,000 head of horned
cattle, 30,000 sheep, 4000 pigs, &c. Portions of the de¬
partment are occupied with pleasure-grounds belonging to
the capital; such as the park of Vincennes to the east, and
the Bois de Boulogne to the west of the city. 1 he manu¬
factures and commerce of the department are most exten¬
sive and varied. They are all concentrated in the capital,
SEX
and are noticed in the article Paris. Internal communi-
cation is facilitated by the two navigable rivers, four canals,
and numerous roads and railways, which diverge from the
metropolis in all directions. Many of the loads are lined
with double rows of lofty trees, and thus form magnificent
approaches to the citv. Seine forms the diocese of the
archbishop of Paris; 'it is included in the jurisdiction of
the Imperial Court at Paris, and contains a civil court,
formed of eight chambers, and a tiibunal of commerce. It
is in the first military division. T.he arrondissements are
as follows:—
Cantons. Communes. Pop. (1856.)
paris   ... 1 1,174,346
Saint-Denis   4 37 356,034
Sceaux  4 43 197,039
Seine-et-
Marne.
Total.
8
81
1,727,419
Seine-et-Marne, a department of France, lying between
N. Lat. 48. 8. and 49. 8., E. Long. 2.24. and 3. 32.; bounded
on the N. by the departments of Oise and Aisne, E. by
those of Marne and Aube, S.E. by that oi Yonne, S. by
that of Loiret, and W. by that of Seine-et-Oise. Length
from N.N.E. to S.S.W., about 74 miles, greatest breadth
45 ; area, 2273 square miles. The surface is broken by
no mountains or even hills, but consists of a wide-spread
undulating country, with many extensive plains. It is
watered by two important rivers, the Seine and its affluent
the Marne; the former traversing the south, and the latter
the north of the department, both in the same direc¬
tion, from east to west. There are three other navigable
rivers, the Ourcq, the Grand Morin, and the Yonne; the
first two falling into the Marne, and the latter into the
Seine, all having parts of their courses in the department.
Of less size and importance are the Loing, Petit Morin,
and Yeres, the last having its source in this department.
In the centre and east of the country are many artificial
ponds for the breeding of salmon. The geological struc¬
ture of the south-eastern parts of Seine-et-Marne is creta¬
ceous, in the other portions the tertiary strata prevail.
Many valuable minerals are obtained in different places.
Such are the sandstone of Fontainebleau, the fine mill¬
stones of Ferte-sous-Jouarre, the building-stone of Chateau
London, the potters’ clay of Montereau, &c. The country,
however, is chiefly agricultural; and in this respect it is
inferior to none of the other departments of France. It
possesses a rich soil, and is diligently cultivated. About
two-thirds of the whole area, or 917,500 acres, are under
the plough ; 82,000 acres are occupied by meadows, 47,500
by vineyards, and 200,000 by forests. Of corn, the prin¬
cipal kinds raised here are wheat and barley; rye and oats
not to so great an extent. Potatoes, pulse, vegetables,
hemp and flax, are also raised. The wine produced is
abundant in quantity, but not very excellent in quality. A
large extent of ground is occupied by gardens and orchards.
Cider is extensively made. The forests abound in game,
and supply excellent timber, especially oak. On the mea¬
dows and uninclosed pastures, large numbers of live stock
are fed. The number of horses in Seine-et-Marne is esti¬
mated at 36,000; of horned cattle, 85,000; of sheep,
75,000; of pigs, 23,000; of goats, 2000; of asses and
mules, 3600. The sheep, which are mostly of the Merino
breed, furnish an important part of the wealth of the country.
There are also a large number of cows ; and this depart¬
ment contributes to supply Paris with milk and cheese.
The manufactures are various, but of no great importance.
Among them are the pottery of Montereau, the paper of
Marais, calico, leather, hardware, and other articles. Many
of the people are employed in the quarries. An active
trade is carried on in this department in the agricultural
produce of the country, which is sent to Paris; also in
cheese, timber, wool, manufactured goods, &c. Besides its
S E I
Seine-et- five navigable rivers, the department is traversed by three
Oise. railways, leading from Paris to Strasburg, Mulhouse, and
Lyons, respectively, as well as by numerous roads. Seine-
et-Marne forms the diocese of Meaux, and is under the
jurisdiction of the Imperial Court at Paris. It contains 5
primary courts and 3 tribunals of commerce , 4 colleges,
and 577 elementary schools. It is included in the first
military division. The capital is Melun, and the five
arrondissements are as follows:—
Cantons. Communes. Pop. (1856.)
Melun   6 106 62,164
Fontainebleau  7 104 78,167
Meaux    7 161 91,515
Couloramiers  4 80 53,876
Provins  5 106 55,660
Total  29 557 341,382
Seine-et-Oise, a department of France, lying between
N. Lat. 48. 18. and 49. 10., E. Long. 1.29. and 2. 24.;
bounded on the N. by the department of Oise, E. by that
of Seine-et-Marne, S. by that of Loire, S.W. by that of
Eure-et-Loire, and N.W. by that of Eure, entirely sur¬
rounding that of Seine. Length from N.W. to S.E. 70
miles; greatest breadth, 52; area, 2164 square miles. It
consists of a beautiful expanse of country, rising in some
places into hills of moderate elevation, with gentle slopes and
level plains in other parts; the whole being richly cultivated
and studded with stately forests, magnificent parks, noble
castles, and quiet hamlets, with the placid stream of the
Seine meandering through the land, and uniting with that
of the Oise from the N.E. The other rivers are of smaller
size, such as the Yeres and Epte, Essonne, and Orge, fall¬
ing into the Seine. In its geological structure the greater
part of the department belongs to the tertiary basin, in
which Paris stands; but a narrow strip in the west is com¬
posed of chalky formations. Sandstone, paving-stone, mill¬
stones, chalk, plaster, potter’s clay, and other minerals, are
found in the department. There are sulphuric springs at
Enghien, and at some other places within the limits of
Seine-et-Oise. The climate is salubrious and temperate.
The soil, not remarkably fertile by nature, has been rend¬
ered productive by careful cultivation. Agriculture is the
principal source of wealth. Corn and wine are produced
in superabundance. Potatoes, pulse, beet-root, and rape
are also raised; and there are many orchards and forests
which furnish large quantities of fruit and timber. The de¬
partment contains 917,500 acres of arable land, 50,000 of
meadows, 42,500 of vineyards, 195,000 of forests, and
27,500 of heaths and waste land. On the meadows are
reared large numbers of live stock, especially sheep. The
sheep-folds of Rambouillet, in this department, are cele¬
brated. It is calculated that there are in Seine-et-Oise
70,000 cows, 520.000 sheep, 30,000 pigs, 55,000 horses
10,000 asses,&c. Poultry and fish abound in the department,
but game has become exceedingly scarce. Besides agricul¬
tural and pastoral employments, many of the inhabitants
are engaged in manufactures of various kinds. The cele¬
brated porcelain of Sevres is one of the most important of
the articles manufactured ; and among the others are cotton
and linen cloth, hosiery, paper, fire-arms, gunpowder, &c.
In these articles, as well as in corn, wool, and timber, an
active trade is carried on. Besides three navigable rivers,
the Seine, Marne, and Oise, there are in the department a
canal and numerous roads ; while all the railways that di¬
verge from Paris traverse it for a longer or a shorter dis¬
tance. Seine-et-Oise forms the see of Versailles, and is
subject in legal matters to the Court of Appeal at Paris.
It has a lyceum, two colleges, a normal seminary, and 1100
elementary schools. The capital is Versailles, which has
a population of about 36,000, and there are six arrondisse¬
ments, as follows:—
S E I
Cantons.
Versailles 10
Mantes  5
Rambouillet  6
Corbeil  4
Pontoise    7
Etampes  4
Total.
.36
Communes.
114
126
119
94
165
60
678
Pop. (1856.)
162,449
57,328
66,840
61,557
95,256
40,749
484,179
35
Seine-Inferieure, a department of France, lying be¬
tween N. Lat. 49. 15. and 50. 4., E. Long. 0. 2. and l.
49.; bounded on the N. and W. by the English Channel,
S. by the department of Eure, and E. by those of Oise and
Somme. Length from E. to W. 76 miles; greatest
breadth, 45 ; area, 2326 square miles. A low branch of
the Ardennes traverses the country from east to west, ter¬
minating on the sea at Cape La Heve, which is the most
westerly point of the department, and the only considerable
headland on its coast. This chain of hills separates the
waters of the Seine from those that flow into the Channel;
on either side of it are extensive plains, furrowed by val¬
leys of no great depth, which are bordered with low slop¬
ing hills. The coast is almost entirely formed of chalk
cliffs, interrupted only where the rivers fall into the sea.
These cliffs attain their highest elevation, 700 feet above
the sea, at Fecamp, nearly opposite Beachy Head, in Sus¬
sex. The principal river in the department is the Seine,
which pursues its tortuous course along the southern boun¬
dary, and receives many small affluents from the north.
The largest of these are the Epte and the Andelle, which
have their sources, and the upper part of their streams, in
Seine-Inferieure. Of the rivers that flow directly into the
Channel, the principal are the Bresle, the Yeres, and the
Arques, with its affluents, the Eaulne and the Bethune.
The country belongs entirely to the cretaceous formation.
Many valuable minerals are obtained, such as marble,
building-stone, marl, chalk, potter’s-clay, sand for glass¬
works, peat, &c. There are mineral-springs in several
places, but those of Forges alone are frequented. The cli¬
mate is moist, and in general colder than that of the oppo¬
site coast of England. Although the department contains
many very rich tracts of ground, yet as there are large por¬
tions of a very different character, it is on the whole not
remarkable for fertility. But agriculture is in a flourishing
state; improved modes of cultivation and manuring are
employed ; and the farms are in general distinguished by
the neatness of their homesteads and gardens. Along the
sea-shore there are many swampy and sandy tracts ; among
the hills much ground adapted only for pasture ; and in the
south of the department many large forests. The extent
of arable land is 945,000 acres; of meadows, 70,000 acres ;
of forest, 170,000 acres; and of heaths, 45,000 acres. Wheat
is the principal kind of corn raised. Pulse, turnips, rape,
potatoes, hemp, and flax, are also among the crops grown.
Much of the ground is laid out in gardens and orchards,
which yield various kinds of fruit. The horses of the country
are good for draught; the cattle and sheep are of inferior
breeds. It is calculated that the department contains 90,000
horses, 150,000 head of cattle, 550,000 sheep, and 60,000
pigs. The Seine abounds in salmon, sturgeon, soles, and
other fish ; and there are also, along the coast, productive
fisheries, which supply the Parisian market with herring,
mackerel, and oysters. The department is celebrated for
its manufacturing industry, which is actively carried on in
every part, and especially in the large towns. There are
a great number of bleach-fields, which give to cloth a su¬
perior whiteness above those of other parts of the kingdom.
All sorts of cotton and woollen manufactures are also
carried on, the former especially at Rouen ; leather, silk,
glass, pottery, bricks, sugar, and chemical substances are
among the other goods manufactured. There are twelve
ports in the department, the chief of which are Dieppe,
36
S E I
S E J
Seisin
Seistan.
Fecamp, Havre, Harfleur, and Rouen. Through these a
considerable trade is carried on with England and other
countries ; and by means of the Seine commercial inter¬
course is kept up with Paris. The department is traversed
by two railways, from Paris to Havre, and from Rouen to
Dieppe. Seine-Inferieure forms the diocese of Rouen, and
contains several law-courts, subordinate to the Court of Ap¬
peal at Rouen. There are a lyceum, 5 colleges, a normal
seminary, 4 upper and 1128 elementary schools. The chief
town is Rouen, and the department is subdivided into 5
arrondissements, as follows :—
Cantona. Communes. Pop. (1856.)
Rouen 15 155 265,602
Dieppe  8 168 112,769
Les Havre  9 122 175,014
Neuchatel    8 145 81,339
Yvetot 10 170 134,726
Total 50 760 769,450
SEISIN. See Infeftment.
SEISTAN, formerly called Seyestan, and sometimes
Nimroz, a khanat or principality of Asia, forming the south¬
west portion of Afghanistan, bounded on the north by
Herat, east by Kandahar, south by the Great Desert,
which separates Afghanistan from Beloochistan, and west
by Persia. It lies between N. Eat. 30. 30. and 32. 0., E.
Long. 61. 0. and 62. 30., and is nearly oval in form, about
100 miles in length from N. to S., and 60 in breadth, with
an area of about 5000 square miles. Though this region is
raised to a height of probably not less than 2500 feet above
the sea, it is, in comparison with the surrounding country,
very much depressed. From the southern foot of the
great Caucasian Mountains, which traverse Afghanistan
from E. to W., a vast expanse of desolate ground stretches
to the S.W., gradually sloping downwards, till it is met on
the west by a chain of hills extending southwards, and
on the south by the elevated desert of Beloochistan. In
the lowest part of this vast slope lies Seistan. The whole
country is an extensive plain, except one small hill near the
eastern shore of the Great Lake, or Hamoon. This is
merely a sheet of shallow water, or swamp, into which the
rivers flow from the surrounding countries, for none of the
streams that enter Seistan can flow out from it again. They
consequently stagnate in the more depressed places, and
form shallow lakes, which are constantly changing their
form and size. The largest of these is the Great Hamoon,
about 70 miles long, and from 15 to 20 wide. The prin¬
cipal rivers that flow into Seistan are the Helmund, the
Khash Rood, and the Ibrahim Joi, from the east; the
Furrah Rood and Adruscund from the north; and the
Bundau from the west. All these, even the largest, are
rather mountain-torrents than perennial rivers, rushing down
at one time with a full volume of muddy water, and at an¬
other with merely a small stream in the bottom of the
channel, which, in the case of the smaller rivers, is left dry
altogether. Most of the lakes and morasses are imbued
with salt, so that the water is frequently not drinkable.
The soil in some parts is rich and fertile, and along the
banks of the Helmund it is well cultivated; but the cli¬
mate is excessively hot, and the atmosphere unhealthy.
Wheat, rice, and other grains, as well as cotton and tobacco,
are grown. There are no forests here, but dense jungle of
tamarisks cover, in many parts, the face of the country.
Beasts of prey, such as leopards, wolves, jackals, hyaenas,
&c., abound here; there are also many wild-asses, wild-
boars, deers, porcupines, hedgehogs, &c. Domestic animals
do not thrive well here ; horses cannot be kept, and cows
are subject to a great mortality. The majority of the in¬
habitants are of Persian origin, but there are also many
Afghans and Belooches, and a few Hindus. They live in
felt tents, and are mostly employed in hunting and fishing.
Their language is a broken Persian, and their religion
Mohammedanism. They are governed by a khan who Sejant
resides at Dovshak, but who has little power on account of il
the numerous petty chieftains in the country. Seistan was Sejanus.
once a fertile and nourishing country, full of large and
magnificent cities, whose ruins still lie strewed for miles
over the plain. The rivers were embanked, and the soil
enriched by a careful system of irrigation. All this
prosperity was destroyed by the conquest of the country
in 1383, by Tamerlane, who exterminated the inhabi¬
tants, and laid the towns in ruins. The present popula¬
tion is from 50,000 to 60,000.
SEJANT. See Heraldry.
SEJANUS, Lucius jElics, an infamous tool of the
Emperor Tiberius, was a native of Vulsinii, in Etruria, and
was son of Seius Strabo, a Roman knight who flourished
during the reign of Augustus and the beginning of that of
Tiberius. After spending a very immoral youth, Sejanus
at length gained the favour of the reigning sovereign, Ti¬
berius. Once the wily youth had the emperor in his grasp,
nothing could part them but the death of either, as it sub¬
sequently proved. Possessed of a body capable of endur¬
ing the most unheard of fatigues, endowed with a mind fit
for the highest species of subtlety and cunning, of manners
the most polite and insinuating towards his equals, the most
cringing towards his superiors, and the most haughty and
imperious to those beneath him, the weak emperor, in
opening his bosom to Sejanus, disclosed himself unwarily
to a most subtle intriguer. On the death of Augustus, in
a.d. 14, Sejanus was sent by Tiberius, together with his
son Drusus, to quell the insurgents in Pannonia. On the
father of Sejanus being sent to Egypt, the son was chosen
sole commander of the praetorian cohorts. He urged upon
I iberius the propriety of concentrating these bands all in
one place, and he instructed him not to divide their powers
of effective action by scattering them throughout the city.
I he emperor complied. The object of Sejanus was to po¬
pularize himself with the soldiery, and he succeeded to ad¬
miration. He dealt out honours to the praetorian guard with
lavish hand, which came back to him in statues and busts
in the public places of Rome. It was evident Sejanus
aspired to the purple. There was, however, more than one
obstacle in his path, which he resolved silently to remove.
Drusus, the son of Tiberius, and the children of Germani-
cus, all stood in his way. He seduced the wife of Drusus,
and by promising her immediate marriage, and a participa¬
tion in the imperial power to which he aspired, induced her
to poison her husband. Sejanus now divorced his wife
Apicata, and solicited the emperor to permit him to wed
the wife of the murdered Drusus. The emperor couched
his answer in ambiguous language. Sejanus now required
to act with caution. After various manoeuvring, he induced
the emperor to shut himself up in the island of Caprma,
where he had full scope for his machinations. The death
ofLivia, the mother of Tiberius, was soon followed by the
banishment of Agrippina, the wife of Germanicus, and her
two sons, Nero and Drusus. The path was now clear be¬
fore Sejanus; yet Tiberius, who possessed more than his
share of cunning, began to suspect him. The emperor had
duplicity sufficient to conceal his suspicions. He made the
tyrant joint consul with himself, and elevated him and his
son to a pontificate. Sejanus felt the ground giving way
under him, but what could he do to prevent it ? Sertorius
Macro was sent to Rome to assume the command of the
praetorian cohorts, with a letter from Tiberius which he was
to read to the senate. I he emperor could never express
himself clearly when he wished to say anything danger¬
ous to the imperial power. The senate and the populace
caught the drift of the royal epistle, however, which was
plainly to have done with Sejanus. No word of consolation
was spoken for the great criminal. He was conducted to
prison, amid the hootings and yellings of the multitude,
S E L
Selby who tore down his statues and busts as he passed them by.
S id ^eXt ^ay llis bot*y was dra§Sed through the streets of
G e”’ > ^ome> and what remained of it was flung into the Tiber.
The chief authorities for the history of Sejanus are Tacitus
Suetonius, and Dion Cassius.
SELBY, a market-town of England, in the West Riding
of Yorkshire, on a flat spot on the right bank of the Ouse,
14 miles S. by E. of York, and 175 N.N.W. of London!
Itsis well though irregularly built, consisting of four prin¬
cipal streets, meeting in a central market-place, in which
stands an old Gothic cross. The most conspicuous edifice
is the noble old parish church, which originally formed part
of a Benedictine abbey, founded by William the Conqueror
in 1068. It is cruciform in plan, partly in the Norman
and partly in the early English styles ; its dimensions are
267 feet by 100. In it are some fine specimens of stained
glass and carved stone-work. The other places of worship
in the town belong to Wesleyan and Primitive Methodists,
Independents, Baptists, Quakers, Roman Catholics, and
Unitarians. Among the public buildings of Selby there
are also a town-hall, and another hall for public meetings,
erected in 1841. I here are various schools and libraries,
a mechanics institution, and a news-room. The manufac¬
turing establishments include boat-building yards, iron and
brass foundries, breweries, tanneries, sailcloth and rope
manufactories. The river is navigable up to Selby tor
vessels of 200 tons, and is crossed here by a moveable
wooden bridge. A considerable trade is carried on in corn
and cattle, as well as in the produce of the manufactures.
Besides weekly markets, several annual fairs are held here.
Pop. (1851) of the town, 5109; of the parish, 5340.
SELDEN, John, one of the most learned men of his
time, as well as a distinguished statesman and lawyer, was
born at Salvington, in Sussex, on the 16th December 1584.
His father was John Selden, a minstrel, and his mother,
whose heart the minstrel is said to have won by his profi¬
ciency in music, was Margaret Baker, a descendant of a
knightly family of that name in Kent. Their son John
received his early education at the free grammar school of
Chichester, where he progressed so rapidly in his studies,
that he was removed to Hart Hall, Oxford, at the early
age of fourteen. After remaining there for four years, he
entered himself at Clifford’s Inn for the study of law, and
in 1604 he removed to the Inner Temple. “ After he had
continued there, says W ood, “ a sedulous student for some
time, he did, by the help of a strong body and a vast me-
mory, not only run through the whole body of the law, but
became a prodigy in most parts of learning, especially in
those which were not common, or little frequented or re¬
garded by the generality of students of his time. So that
in a few years his name was wonderfully advanced, not only
at home, but in foreign countries, and was usually styled
the great dictator of learning of the English nation.” His
reputation for learning, particularly on all subjects con¬
nected with law, must speedily have gained him a lucra¬
tive practice, though he was more employed as a convey¬
ancer and chamber counsel than as a pleader. Indeed,
judging from what of his speeches remain, eloquence can¬
not be said to have been one of his distinguishing qualifi¬
cations. His earliest work, the Analecton Anglo-Britan-
mcon, a chronological digest of records relating to the
history of England previous to the Norman invasion, was
finished in 1607, but was not published till eight years
afterwards. In 1610 appeared his England's Epinomis,
and Jam Anglorum facies altera, both illustrative of the
state and progress of English law; and the same year
he pubhshed an essay on The Duel or Single Combat. In
1614 appeared his largest English, and in the opinion of
some his best, book, on Titles of Honour, a work which is
still regarded as an authority upon that subject. In 1617
fie pubhshed the first edition of his celebrated work, Be
S E L
Dus Sgris, and the following year his History of Tithes.
In the latter of these works, while maintaining the legal'
fie denied the divine right of the clergy to receive tithes ;
and m consequence was summoned befbre the High Com¬
mission Court, when he had to make a public acknowledg¬
ment of his sorrow for having published his opinions, though
fie did not in any way recant them.
In 1621, Selden, though not then a member of the
-House, was sent for by the Commons to give his opinion
on the questions in dispute between them and the Crown.
Un that occasion he advised them so strongly to maintain
eir rights and privileges, that he was committed to prison ;
but through the influence of the bishop of Winchester, he
was liberated after an incarceration of five weeks. In 1624
fie sat in Parliament as one of the representatives of the
oroug i o Lancaster, but took no prominent part in the
usiness of that session. The same year he was chosen
°f l""’, but refused t0 accept the office,
which so offended the benchers that they ordered him to
be fined, and to be for ever disabled from being called to
the bench. This order, however, was subsequently re¬
scinded, and Selden was called to the bench in 1632. In
the first parliament of Charles I., which met in 1625, Selden
sat as one of the representatives of Great Bedwin, and de-
dai ed lumself so Warmly against the Duke of Buckingham,
that when, in the following parliament, his Grace was im¬
peached by the House of Commons, he was one of the mem¬
bers appointed to prepare the articles and to manage the
prosecution. In the parliament which met in March°1628,
feelden again represented the town of Lancaster, and took a
very prominent part in the proceedings. He rendered very
efficient aid in the preparation of the celebrated Petition of
Kights, and was one of the speakers appointed to confer
with the Upper House in order to obtain its concurrence
in an address to the king. The result was, that the mea¬
sure, having the support of both Houses, at length received
the reluctant assent of the king. Selden was also one of
those that drew up a remonstrance to the king for the re¬
moval of Buckingham, and demanded that judgment be
given against him upon the impeachment of the last par¬
liament ; and also a remonstrance declaring that the impost
of tonnage and poundage was no prerogative of the crown.
In all these matters Selden’s vast learning was of the utmost
importance. His knowledge of the laws and constitution
of the country furnished him with numerous authorities,
and enabled him to support his arguments with an unanl
swerable mass of facts and precedents. It was in this that
he was chiefly distinguished as a debater.
During the recess he applied himself to literary pursuits,
and gave to the world his Marmora Arundeliana, an ac¬
count of the Arundelian Marbles, which had lately been
brought to England. Parliament again met in January
1629, and Selden appeared more active than ever in the
popular cause. The violent opposition of this parliament
to the measures of the court speedily brought about its dis¬
solution, and Selden with several others were committed
to the Tower. At first their treatment was extremely
harsh and rigorous, being denied even the use of books or
writing materials. At length, after a confinement of eight
months, they were brought up before the King’s Bench,
and offered their liberty upon granting security for their
good behaviour. This, however, was refused; and, though
the strictness of their confinement was more and more
relaxed, till it became little more than a name, it was not till
May 1631 that Selden, through the influence of the Earls
of Arundel and Pembroke, was liberated on bail, and not
till the beginning of 1634 that he received a free discharge.
In 1646, parliament voted L.5000 to be paid to each of
these gentlemen, or their heirs, for the losses they had sus¬
tained on this occasion. Among the fruits of this period
were his two learned works, De Successionibus in Bona
37
Selden.
38 S E L
Selden. Defuncti ad Leges Hebrceorum, and De Successione in
^ Ponlificatnm Hebrceorum.
In 1635 was published his Mare Clausum, a work writ¬
ten a good many years before in answer to Grotius s Mare
Liberum, and now published at the request of the king, in
consequence of a dispute with the Dutch regarding their
fisheries on our shores. It was dedicated to his majesty,
and this has been regarded by many as indicating a change
in Selden’s views regarding the couit party. Be this as it
mav, we do not find that he was so frequently or promi¬
nently opposed to the court party as formerly. The next
four years of Selden’s life yield us nothing of interest; but
at the end of that period he published his De Jure Natu-
rali et Gentium juxta Disciplinam Hebrceorum. It is not
a little remarkable that Selden does not appear to have
taken any part in the great Ship-money case of 1638,
although his services would have been of the utmost value
on behalf of Hampden. It may be that he declined to in¬
terfere, or perhaps the Hampden party saw reason to sus¬
pect him of an inclination towards the court party.
In 1640 he was unanimously chosen to represent the
University of Oxford in the Long Parliament, and we now
find him not only less violently opposed to the Crown party,
but very frequently supporting their measures. He gave
his opinion with the king as to the right of the bishops to
a seat in parliament; and though he was one of the mem¬
bers named by the House to prepare the accusations against
the Earl of Strafford, he was not one of those appointed to
conduct the prosecution, and voted against the majority wlm
condemned the earl. He also opposed the resolutions of
the House which led to the exclusion of the bishops from
parliament. The Lord Keeper Littleton having displeased
the king, Charles wrote to Lord Falkland requiring that the
great seal be taken from the present keeper, and given
either to Banks or Selden. That this offer was made by
the king from a belief that Selden was in his interest, may
be readily supposed, seeing that afterwards, when Selden
opposed in the House the king’s Commission of Array, his
majesty was much troubled, and desired Lord Falkland to
write a friendly letter to Selden on the subject. Selden
acknowledged that he had spoken all the more strongly
against the commission, in order that he might be able to
speak the more freely against the ordinance of the parlia¬
ment for the militia, to which he was equally opposed, and
which was to be brought up for discussion on a subsequent
occasion. This he also did his utmost to overthrow, but
unsuccessfully. In 1643 he was appointed one of the lay
members to sit in the Assembly of Divines at W estminster,
and the same year he was appointed by the House of Com¬
mons keeper of the records in the Tower. In 1644 he
subscribed the Solemn League and Covenant, and the fol¬
lowing year he was one of the twelve commoners chosen
Commissioners to the Admiralty. The same year he was
chosen Master of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, an honour
which he declined; and in 1647 he was appointed one of
the parliamentary visitors of Oxford University.
When Selden found that there was no possibility of a
reconciliation being effected between the king and the par¬
liament, he seems to have withdrawn himself from the
arena of political strife. His name does not appear among
those members who were imprisoned or expelled by the
army, nor yet among those who continued to assume the
office of legislators. He took no part in the arraignment of
the king, and it does not even appear what his opinion was
on that transaction. Cromwell seemed desirous to secure
his services, and is said to have applied to him, personally
and through mutual friends, to answer the Eikon Basilike,
but he declined. Whatever opinion may be formed of
Selden’s conduct latterly, it is no small argument in favour
of his consistency and uprightness, that he retained the
confidence and good-will of both parties at a time when
S E L
party feeling ran so high. The true explanation seems to Seleucia
be, that, foreseeing the calamities of a civil war, to which ||
the violent proceedings of the popular party were evidently
leading, he did what he could to check them. He died, on v
30th November 1654, at White Friars, the house of the
dowager Duchess of Kent, with whom he lived as legal
adviser, and to whom he is said by some to have been
married. “ Mr Selden,” says Lord Clarendon, “ was a per¬
son whom no character can flatter, or transmit in any ex¬
pressions equal to his virtue. He was of so stupendous
learning in all kinds, and in all languages (as may appear
in his excellent and transcendent writings), that a man
would have thought he had been entirely conversant
amongst books, and had never spent an hour but in read¬
ing and writing; yet his humanity, courtesy, and affability
was such, that he would have been thought to have been
bred in the best courts, but that his good nature, charity,
and delight in doing good, and in communicating all he
knew, exceeded that breeding. His style in all his writings
seems harsh, and sometimes obscure, which is not wholly to
be imputed to the abstruse subjects of which he commonly
treated, out of the paths trod by other men, but to a little
undervaluing the beauty of a style, and too much pro¬
pensity to the language of antiquity ; but in his conversa¬
tion he was the most clear discourser, and had the best
faculty of making hard things easy, and presenting them to
the understanding, of any man that hath been known.’
Among his later works may be mentioned De Anno Civili
et Calendaris Reipublicce Judatcce; Uxor Hebraica seu
de JVuptiis et Divorciis ; De Synedriis et prefectums Juri-
dicis veterum Hebrceorum ; De Nummis. A complete edi¬
tion of his works, with a Memoir of the Author, by Dr
David Wilkins, appeared in 6 vols. folio, 1726. Selden’s
name is best known in the present day by his Fable- Talk,
a work published thirty-five years after his death by Richard
Milward, who had acted as his amanuensis for twenty years.
It is a collection of his remarks and opinions on various
subjects, especially relating to religion and politics.
SELEUCIA, or Seleuceia (^eXevKcta), several ancient
cities founded by Seleucus Nicator, king of Syria, and
called after his name. The most important are the follow¬
ing :—
Seleucia Pieria, the seaport of Antioch, on the north
side of the Bay of Antioch, at the foot of a mountain an¬
ciently called Coryphaeum, now Jebel Musa, about 8 miles
N. by W. of the mouth of the Orontcs. It was strongly
fortified with a double line of defences, connected with a
castellated fort on the summit of the hill. The harbour
was well suited for the galleys of the ancients, and of its
substantial piers considerable portions still remain. Be¬
sides the outer port, formed by two piers, there was an
inner basin, to which an entrance was cut through the solid
rock, and defended by a tower on each side. For supply¬
ing water to the harbour a great work was constructed,
consisting partly of tunnels and partly of deep cuttings, for
a distance of 1088 yards. Of all these structures, as well
as of several temples, an amphitheatre, and many tombs in
the rocks, considerable remains are yet to be seen, con¬
firming the accuracy of the description that Polybius gives
of the city. Seleucia was a place of much importance in
the wars between the Syrian and Egyptian monarchs. It
was taken by Ptolemy Euergetes during his invasion of
Syria, and retained by the Egyptians until the time of An-
tiochus the Great. This monarch led an army against the
city, and by taking the suburb and arsenal, forced it to sur¬
render, about 220 B.c. Seleucia afterwards passed into the
hands of the Romans, and received from Pompey the dig¬
nity of a free city. It is noted in Scripture history as the
place where Paul set sail on his first missionary journey
(Acts xiii. 4).
Seleucia Tracheotis, an important town of Cilicia, in
Seleucia-
on-the-
Tigris
II
Selinus.
S E L
a fertile plain on the left bank of the Calycadmus, about 68
miles S.W. of Tarsus. It was well built, much superior in
style to the other towns of the country, and attracted many
to it on account of the beauty of its situation, as well as an
oracle of Apollo which it possessed, and an annual festival
which was held here. No historical event of any import¬
ance is connected with the name of Seleucia Tracheotis.
Extensive remains of the ancient city still exist at a place
. called Selefkieh. Among these may be traced a theatre,
temple, and other large buildings.
Seleucia-on-the-Tigris, so called from its position, in
order to distinguish it from the other towns of that name,
stood at the point where an artificial canal connected the
waters of the Euphrates and Tigris, 40 miles N. of Babylon.
It was a large and important city, containing, it is said, in
the time of its prosperity, a population of 600,000 souls;
and it was second in commercial importance only to Alex¬
andria. Having been the capital of the Macedonian pos¬
sessions in the East, Seleucia still retained, after the fall of
that empire, an independent position, and a thoroughly
Greek character. It was governed by a senate of 300, was
strongly fortified, and thus able to defy the power of the
Parthians, whose empire reached almost to the gates. The
oriental city of Ctesiphon rose on the other side of the
Tigris, only three miles off, and finally supplanted Seleucia
in the power and splendour which it had inherited from the
old Babylon. It was the Romans, however, who took and
sacked Seleucia, notwithstanding its hostility to their ene¬
mies, 165 a.d. From this blow the city never recovered;
and the place relapsed into a marshy desert.
SELEUCIDAil, or the Syro-Macedonian era, is a com¬
putation of time, commencing from the establishment of the
Seleucidae (by Seleucus Nicator), a race of Greek kings,
who reigned as successors of Alexander the Great in Syria,
as the Ptolemies did in Egypt. This era we find expressed in
the books of the Maccabees, and on a great number of Greek
medals struck by the cities of Syria. The Jews call it the
era of contracts, and the Arabs the era of the two horns.
According to the best accounts, the first year of this era
falls in 311 b.c., being twelve years after Alexander’s
death.
SELEUCUS I. and his successors. See Syria.
SELIM. See Turkey.
SELIMNO, Selimnia, or Islemje, a town of European
Turkey, Rumelia, in the eyalet, and 70 miles N. by W. of
Adrianople, at the south foot of the Balkan Hills. It is
enclosed by walls, and contains three mosques. Here are
extensive plantations of roses, and manufactures of the
essence of roses, of cloth, and of highly-prized fire-arms and
gun-locks. Large fairs are held here; and it is one of the
most important places of trade in Turkey. The inhabitants
are almost all Bulgarians. Pop. 20,000.
SELINUS, the most westerly, as well as one of the most
important, of the Greek colonies in Sicily, on the south
coast of that island, at the mouth of a small river, 4 miles
W. of the Hypsas. The original settlers came partly from
Megara Hyblaea, on the east coast of Sicily, and partly from
Megara in Greece, the parent city of that colony. The
date of the settlement is not exactly known, but was pro¬
bably about 628 b.c. It derived its name (from creAivos,
wild parsley) from the quantities of that herb which grew
in the vicinity, and adopted a sprig of it as the symbol
of the city. Selinus rapidly rose to a high degree of power
and prosperity; but was involved in frequent contests with
the aborigines and the Carthaginians. The city of Segesta,
too, was a formidable rival, and frequently an enemy. Se¬
linus was in alliance with Carthage when Hamilcar under¬
took his expedition against Sicily in 480 b.c., but rendered
no effectual aid to that general. But at the time of the
^ thenian expedition against Syracuse, Silenus had enjoyed
a a century of peace and prosperity, and acquired great
S E L
military resources and large stores of wealth. In the dis¬
putes between Selinus and Segesta, the former called in the
aid of Syracuse, and the latter that of Athens. Hence the'
Athenian siege of Syracuse. After its failure, the Selinan-
tines pressed their enemies to extremities, and so led them
to call in the aid of Carthage. With this assistance they
defeated the forces of Selinus in 410 B.c; and in the fol¬
lowing spring an army of 100,000 Carthaginians, under
Hannibal, son of Gisco, landed in Sicily, and before any of
its allies could send succour, laid siege to Selinus. Not¬
withstanding a desperate resistance, the place was taken,
after ten days’ siege. The walls were destroyed; and
though permission was given to the inhabitants to occupy
the city, as subjects of Carthage, Selinus never recovered
its former prosperity. During the first Punic war the Car¬
thaginians destroyed the city, and removed its inhabitants
to Lilybaeum. Selinus was never rebuilt, and its site is
now completely desolate, and overgrown with brushwood.
1 he remains of the ancient walls may be traced on a small
hill near the sea, and within their limits the ruins of three
Doiic temples lie. Outside the walls, which enclose a com¬
paratively small area, are traces of two edifices, whose cha¬
racter is unknown; and on a hill to the east stood three
temples, which must have been among the largest and most
magnificent in the ancient world. The place is now called
Torre dei Pulci. "
SELJOOK. See Asia, § Turkish Tribes.
SELKIRK, Alexander, whose adventures gave rise to
Defoe’s well-known historical romance of Robinson Cru¬
soe, was born at Largo, in Fifeshire, Scotland, about the
year 1676. Fie was bred a seaman, and went from Eng¬
land, in 1703, in the capacity of sailing-master of a small
vessel, called the Cinque-Ports Galley, Charles Pickering
captain. In September of the same year he sailed from
Cork, in company with another ship, called the St George,
commanded by the celebrated navigator William Dampier,
intended to cruise against the Spaniards in the South Sea.
On the coast of Brazil Pickering died, and was succeeded
in the command by his lieutenant, Thomas Stradling. They
proceeded on their voyage round Cape Horn to the island
of Juan Fernandez, whence they were driven by the
appearance of two French ships, of 36 guns each, and left
five of Stradling’s men there on shore, who were taken off
by the French. From this they sailed to the coast of
America, where Dampier and Stradling quarrelled, and
separated by agreement, on the 19th of May 1704. In
September following, Stradling came again to the island of
Juan Fernandez, where Selkirk and his captain had a dif¬
ference, which, with the circumstance of the ship’s being
very leaky, and in bad condition, induced him to determine
upon staying there alone; but when his companions were
about to depart, his resolution was shaken, and he desired
to be taken on board again. The captain, however, re¬
fused to admit him, and he was obliged to remain, having
nothing but his clothes, bedding, a gun, and a small quan¬
tity of powder and ball; a hatchet, a knife, and a kettle;
with his books, and mathematical and nautical instruments.
He kept up his spirits tolerably till he saw the vessel put
off, when, as he afterwards related, his heart yearned within
him, and melted at parting at once with his comrades and
all human society.
Thus left sole monarch of the island, with plenty of the
necessaries of life, he found himself in a situation which was
hardly supportable. He had fish, goats’ flesh, turnips and
other vegetables ; yet he grew dejected, languid, and melan¬
choly, to such a degree as to be scarcely able to refrain
from doing violence to himself. Eighteen months passed
before he could, by reasoning, reading his Bible, and study,
be thoroughly reconciled to his condition. At length he
grew happy, employing himself in decorating his huts,
chasing the goats, which he equalled in speed, and scarcely
39
Seljook
II
Selkirk.
40 S E L
Selkirk, ever failed in catching. He also tamed young kids, laming
them to prevent their becoming wild; and he kept a guard
of tame cats about him, to defend him when asleep from the
rats, that were very troublesome. When his clothes were
worn out, he made others of goat-skins, but could not suc¬
ceed in making shoes, with the use of which, however, habit,
in time, enabled him to dispense. His only liquor was
water. He computed that during his abode in the island he
had caught a thousand goats, of which he had let go five
hundred, after marking them by slitting their ears. Com¬
modore Anson’s people, who were there about thirty years
afterwards, found the first goat which they shot upon land¬
ing was thus marked, and, as it appeared to be very old,
concluded that it had been under the power of Selkirk.
But it appears by Captain Carteret’s account of his voyage
in the Swallow sloop, that other persons practised this mode
of marking, as he found a goat with his ears thus slit on the
neighbouring island of Mas-a-fuera, where Selkirk never
was. He made companions of his tame goats and cats,
often dancing and singing with them. Although he con¬
stantly performed his devotions at stated hours, and read
aloud, yet, when he was taken off the island, his language,
from disuse of conversation, had become scarcely intelli¬
gible. In this solitude he continued four years and four
months, during which time only two incidents happened
which he thought worth relating, the occurrences of every
day being in his circumstances nearly similar. The one
was that, pursuing a goat eagerly, he caught it just on the
edge of a precipice which was covered with bushes, so that
he did not perceive it; and he fell to the bottom, where
he lay, according to Captain Rogers’s account, twenty-four
hours senseless; but, as he related to Sir Richard Steele,
he computed, by the alteration of the moon, that he had
lain three days. When he came to himself, he found the
goat lying under him dead. It was with great difficulty
that he could crawl to his habitation, whence he was unable
to stir for ten days, and did not recover of his bruises for a
long time. The other event was the arrival of a ship, which
he at first supposed to be French. And such is the natural
love of society in the human mind, that he was eager to
abandon his solitary felicity, and surrender himself to them,
although enemies; but upon their landing he found them
to be Spaniards, of whom he had too great a dread to trust
himself in their hands. They were by this time so near
that it required all his agility to escape, which he effected
by climbing into a thick tree, being shot at several times
as he ran off. Fortunately the Spaniards did not discover
him, though they stayed some time under the tree where he
was hidden, and killed some goats just by. In this solitude
Selkirk remained until the 2d of February 1709, when he
saw two ships come into the bay, and knew them to be
English. He immediately lighted a fire as a signal; and
on their coming to shore, found they were the Duke, Cap¬
tain Rogers, and the Duchess, Captain Courtney, being two
privateers from Bristol. He gave them tire best entertain¬
ment he could afford; and as they had been a long time at
sea without fresh provisions, the goats which he caught
were highly acceptable. His habitation, consisting of two
huts, one to sleep in, and the other for dressing his food, was
so obscurely situated, and so difficult of access, that only
one of the ship’s officers would accompany him to it. Dam-
pier, who was pilot on board the Duke, and knew Selkirk
very well, told Captain Rogers that, when on board the
Cinque-Ports, he was the best seaman in the vessel, upon
which Captain Rogers appointed him master’s mate of the
Duke. After a fortnight’s stay at Juan Fernandez, the
ships proceeded on their cruise against the Spaniards;
plundered a town on the coast of Peru; took a Manilla ship
off California; and returned by way of the East Indies to
England, where they arrived on the 1st of October 1711—
Selkirk having been absent, on the day of his arrival in
S E L
London, eight years, one month, and three days, more than Selkirk,
half of which time he had spent alone on the island. The
public curiosity being excited respecting him, he was in¬
duced to put his papers into the hands of Defoe, to arrange
and form them into a regular narrative. These papers must
have been drawn up after he left Juan Fernandez, as he
had no means of recording his transactions there. Captain
Cooke remarks, as an extraordinary circumstance, that he
had contrived to keep an account of the days of the week
and the month; but this might be done, as Defoe makes
Robinson Crusoe do, by cutting notches in a post, or many
other methods. From this account of Selkirk, Defoe
adopted the notion of writing a more extensive work, the
famous romance of Robinson Crusoe. After his return to
England, Selkirk waited in London till he got his effects
realized, and then proceeded, in the spring of 1712, to his
native village of Largo. For a few days he enjoyed the
society of his relatives and friends ; but, from long habit, he
soon felt averse to society, and was most happy in being
alone. In the upper part of the garden attached to his
father’s house he formed a kind of cave or grotto, which
commanded an extensive and delightful view of the bay of
Largo, and the shores of the Forth. In musing here, or
wandering through a secluded and solitary valley called
Keil’s Den, and fishing in the bay, he spent the greater
part of his time. How long he remained here cannot be
ascertained, but he eloped some time afterwards with a girl
of the neighbourhood, named Sophia Bruce, and proceeded
with her to London. He never returned to Largo, and but
little is known of him during the latter part of his life.
Sophia Bruce appears to have died between 1717 and
1720; for in the latter year he again married Frances Can-
dis, who survived him. Selkirk died lieutenant on board
his Majesty’s ship Weymouth, some time in the year 1723 ;
and it is believed that he had no children by either of his
wives. (See Life and Adventures of Alexander Selkirk, by
John Howell, Edinburgh.)
SELKIRK, an ancient royal burgh, and chief town of the
county of Selkirk, in Scotland. It is situated on an eleva¬
tion overlooking the valley of the river Ettrick, 33 miles
S.S.E. of Edinburgh, and commands an extensive view.
It consists chiefly of one street, which expands at the mar¬
ket-place into an open space ; in which is a fine monument
and statue of Sir Walter Scott. The town has not in¬
creased in size or importance for centuries; but it has been
much improved of late years, and now contains many good
houses, with a town-hall, having an elegant spire 110 feet
in height, and containing apartments for the burgh and
sheriff courts. There are five places of worship—one be¬
longing to the Established Church, one to the Free Church,
two to the United Presbyterians, and one to the Episcopa¬
lians. A new prison has been erected at the north side of
the town; and it also possesses several excellent schools, a
savings bank, three libraries, and a reading-room. Selkirk
was formerly famed for the manufacture of shoes, in which
it had an extensive trade; but it has now no manufactures
of any consequence, except those of tweeds, blankets, and
hosiery; which have been recently introduced here from
Galashiels. The burgh is governed by a provost, two
bailies, and twelve councillors ; and it votes with the county-
in returning a member to Parliament. During the wars
between England and Scotland, the citizens of Selkirk were
famed for their courage. A party of them, under the com¬
mand of the town-clerk, William Brydone, fought with
much gallantry at the battle of Flodden. Brydone was
afterwards knighted for his conduct; and the town received
from James V. a grant of a thousand acres, as a recompense
for the courage of the burghers ; but it was totally burned
by the English, in revenge for the bravery displayed by its
citizens. A mile north from the town is Philiphaugh,
where the celebrated Marquis of Montrose was defeated
S E L
by the Covenanters under General Leslie. Pop. (1851)
3314.
SELKIRKSHIRE, a county of Scotland, situated be¬
tween 55. 2. and 55. 42. N. Lat., and between 2. 48. and
3. 20. W. Long. It has Mid-Lothian or Edinburghshire
on the N.; Roxburghshire on the E. and S.E.Dumfries¬
shire on the S.; and Peeblesshire, or Tweeddale, on the
W.; the line which separates it from these counties being
on all sides, but especially the south, exceedingly irregular.
Its extreme length, from N.E. to S.W., is 28 miles, its ex¬
treme breadth 16, and its area 264£ square miles, equal to
169,280 English acres. It includes only three entire
parishes, Yarrow, Kirkhope, and Ettrick—the parishes of
Selkirk and Galashiels being partly in Roxburghshire.
These may be said to form the county, although small
parts of the parishes of Ashkirk, Innerleithen, Peebles,
Roberton, and Stow, are also included in it.
This is almost entirely a pastoral district, and in many
respects bears a resemblance to the higher parts of the
contiguous county of Roxburgh. Like the latter county,
the general declivity of the mountain range is from west-
south-west to east-north-east, and all its streams discharge
themselves into the Tweed. The rocks are of the transi¬
tion series, and are chiefly graywacke, graywacke-slate, and
clay-slate. On the borders of Peeblesshire extensive layers
of porphyry, alternating with thin strata of slate and granite,
are to be found. The hills are generally ridge-shaped, and
rounded on the tops, with acclivities of from 10° to 30°.
The secondary valleys are small, since the Ettrick and Yar¬
row run nearly parallel, and at no very great distance from
each other; but where the Yarrow and Tweed diverge, the
valleys increase in magnitude, as they are then drained by
larger streams. Several of the hills are above 2000 feet in
height—such as Windlestraw Law (2295), at the northern
extremity of the county, on the confines of Mid-Lothian ;
Blackhouse Heights (2370) ; Minchmoor (2280), on the
borders of Peeblesshire; and Ettrick-pen (2200), on the
south-west boundary. The lower hills are for the most part
green, and afford good pasturage for sheep ; but heath pre¬
vails on many of the higher grounds, especially towards the
south-west.
The rivers are—the Tweed, which crosses the north side
of the county in its course from Peeblesshire on the west
to Roxburghshire on the east; the Gala, which for some
distance forms the boundary with Roxburghshire on the
north-east, and falls into the Tweed, from the north, a little
below Galashiels; the Cawdor, a very beautiful stream,
which also joins the Tweed from the north; the Ettrick
and Yarrow, which have their sources on the confines of
the county of Dumfries, and, flowing north-east almost
parallel to each other, join their streams above Selkirk, and
afterwards, under the name of Ettrick, passing to the west
of that town, and for a short distance along the boundary
with Roxburghshire, enter the Tweed; the Ale, which rises
in the south-east, and soon after passes into Roxburghshire ;
and also the Borthwick, which washes the south-eastern
boundary. Next to the Tweed, the most considerable
waters are the Ettrick and the Yarrow, which receive, in
the first instance, nearly all the other streams that traverse
this district. The scenery on the Yarrow is exceedingly
romantic and delightful. Soon after its rise, it passes
through two lakes, the Loch of the Lows and St Mary’s
Loch ; the latter, which is separated from the former only
by a narrow neck of level ground, is three miles long, having
its banks partly covered with coppice-wood, and is the finest
piece of water in the south of Scotland. From thence the
airow flows for eight or nine miles, through sheep-walks,
without wood or cultivation ; but afterwards the sides of the
lofty hills in its course are covered with wood to a eonsi-
cerable height, and its valley is embellished with a variety
o ushes and wild-flowers. Ettrick, the larger stream, has
VOL. xx.
S E L
a wider and more cultivated valley ; and a little before it
receives the Yarrow, natural wood begins to appear on its
banks. It afterwards flows for four miles through a rich
tract, sheltered by plantations on the hills. From this
river the whole district has been sometimes called Ettrick
forest; but the name of Forest here, as elsewhere, has
long since ceased to denote the existence of extensive
woodlands, of which, whatever may have been the case for¬
merly, scarcely any traces now remain. Besides the two
a es we have mentioned, a great many smaller ones are
scattered over the east and south-east quarters, of which
ie moie considerable are Loch Alemoor, the principal
source of the Ale, and Loch Oakermoor, noted for the vast
quantity of marl which it contains.
d his county is deficient in coal, limestone, and sandstone,
and it lies under the same disadvantages as Roxburghshire,
from its great distance from markets where coal and lime
r ^on6 hQai „The arab,e land lies at an elevation of
from 280 to 800 feet, and does not much exceed one-tenth
of the whole county. It is light, dry, and easily cultivated ;
and it produces wheat, oats, barley or here, turnips, and
potatoes. Wheat is regularly grown in the lower parts of
the county, and even in the higher it has been raised at
the height of iOO feet, yielding a good return; and it may
be said that agriculture is as well understood and followed
out in this as in any other of the Scotch counties. Many
improvements in the mode of cultivation and the farminor
implements have been introduced into Selkirkshire. The
houses of the tenants are now better than formerly, and the
geneial condition of the people has been ameliorated.
The total extent of country under a rotation of crops in
8°7 was 14,441 acres; of which 261 acres were occupied
by wheat, 949 by barley, 4162 by oats, 29 by beans and
peas, 75 by vetches or tares, 2625 by turnips, 222 by
potatoes, 30 by rape, 65 by fallow land, and 6012 by grass
and hay. The county is, however, on account of the
dampness of the climate, more suited for pasture than for
agriculture. The cattle are, for the most part, of the Tees-
water and Highland breeds. Many of the sheep are black-
faced, especially in the upper regions; but Cheviots and
Leicesters have been introduced into the county. There
were, in 1857, 763 horses, 2449 cattle, 145,732 sheep, and
474 swine—in all, 149,418 live stock in Selkirkshire. The
lochs and rivers abound in various kinds of fish ; pike, perch,
and trout being obtained in the former, and salmon, trout[
baibel, &c., in the latter. 1 he only manufactures of the
county are concentrated in Galashiels and Selkirk. Wool¬
len fabrics are the articles principally made in both of these
places. Until a comparatively late period, the county suf¬
fered many inconveniences from the want of roads; but it
is now well provided for in this respect. The road from
Edinburgh to Carlisle traverses the county for 11 miles;
another from Glasgow to Kelso and Berwick crosses the
northern portion ; and others lead up the vale of Ettrick
and Yarrow to Moffat. The Hawick line of the North
British Railway runs for a short distance along the border
of Selkirkshire ; and has a station at Galashiels, from which
there is a branch to Selkirk. The whole number of places
of worship in Selkirkshire,, according to the census of 1851
was 15; of which, 10 contained 3413 sittings. Of the
former, 5 belonged to the Established Church, 5 to the
Free Church,. 2 to the United Presbyterians, 1 to the In¬
dependents, 1 to the Glassites, and I to the Evangelical
Union. The number of public schools at the same date
was 15, and of private schools 9. The number of proprie¬
tors jn the county is 498 ; and the valuation of rental for
1851-58 was L.61,028. One member is returned to Par¬
liament, by a constituency amounting in 1858 to 861.
The country now occupied by Selkirkshire formed, in
the earliest historical period, a part of the territory of the
Gadeni. It was occupied by the Romans during their
41
Selkirk¬
shire.
42 • S E L
Sellasia possession of our island; and after their departure was
Jl overrun by the Anglo-Saxons. At that time, however, it
Semipala- wag covere(j dense forests, and had few settled inha-
tins . |3itant;St Very few remains of the Roman or Saxon times
have been preserved in Selkirkshire. When the southern
part of Scotland was given up by the Anglo-Saxon kings
of England, Selkirk was frequently a residence of the
Scottish monarchs; and the county was formed piobably
about the reign of Alexander II. In the fifteenth century
it belonged principally to the Douglas family. The largest
proprietor now is the'Duke of Buccleuch, to whom about
two-thirds of it belong. The principal seats in the county
are Thirlestane,belonging to Lord Napier; Ashestiel,once
the residence of Sir Walter Scott, now belonging to Sir
James Russell; and Borthwickbrae, to A. E. Lockhart,
Esq., M.P. There are several old castles, the chief being
that of Newark, near Selkirk, the scene of the Lay of the
Last Minstrel. The most distinguished natives of Sel¬
kirkshire have been Mungo Park, the African traveller, and
James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd. Pop. of the county,
(1801) 5388; (1811) 5889; (1821) 6637; (1831) 6833;
(1841) 7990; (1851) 9797.
SELLASIA, an ancient town of Laconia, in the valley
of the (Enus, at the point where the roads from Sparta to
Argos and Tegea separate. It is only remarkable for an
important battle that was fought here b.c. 221. During
the war between Sparta and the Achaean League, the
latter having obtained the assistance of Antigonus the Ma¬
cedonian monarch, Cleomenes, king of Sparta, apprehend¬
ing an invasion, took up a strong position near Sellasia
with 20,000 men. His right wing, under his own com¬
mand, occupied Mount Olympus, and his left, under his
brother Eucleidas, Mount Evas; while the whole line was
defended by intrenchments. Antigonus approached from the
north with a much superior force ; but seeing the strength
of his adversaries’ position, hesitated for some days before
venturing an attack. At length he assaulted with his right
wing the position of Eucleidas ; and, favoured by an error
of that general, and a timely charge of Philopcemen with
the Megapolitan cavalry, gained a complete victory. Cleo¬
menes then advanced to retrieve the day; but, after a des¬
perate conflict, was repulsed with great loss. Antigonus
thereafter captured Sparta, and Cleomenes took refuge in
Egypt.
SELVA, a town of Spain, Catalonia, in the province
and 9 miles N.W. of Tarragona. It stands in a fertile
plain ; and contains two churches, two suppressed convents,
potteries, oil-mills, and distilleries. Pop. 4250.
SEMENDRIA, or Smederewo, a town of European
Turkey, in Servia, on the right bank of the Danube, 24
miles S.E. of Belgrade. It is fortified and defended by a
citadel. Formerly the residence of the kings of Servia,
Semendria is still the seat of a bishop. On the hills that
encircle the town to the S. and S.W. lie many vineyards,
celebrated for the excellence of their grapes and wine.
Fishery, trade, and navigation, are carried on here. Pop.
(1854), exclusive of the Turkish garrison, 3829.
SEMI-ARIANS, a branch of the ancient Arians, who
arose during the fourth century, and denied the consub-
stantiality (o[j.oovctlov) of the Son with the Father, but ad¬
mitted their (bfunovcnov) similarity of substance. Ihe
leaders of this party were George of Laodicea and Basil
of Ancyra.
SEMICIRCLE is that figure which is comprehended
between the diameter of the circle and half its circumfer-
ence.
SEMICOLON. See Punctuation.
SEMIDIAMETER, half the diameter or radius of a
circle.
SEMIPALATINSK, or Semipolatinsk, a district of
Asiatic Russia, bounded on the north by the government
S E M
of Tomsk, E. by Chinese Songaria, S. by Independent Semipala-
Turkestan, and W. by the Kirghise lands. Area, 164,682 tinsk
square miles. Almost the whole of the district, especially SemiJ!amis<
the east and south-east portions, is traversed by lofty ranges^ ^ ^ ^ ,,
of mountains, those towards the north being offshoots of
the Altai Mountains, and those towards the south, of the
Mustagh or Thian-Shan range. The names of the prin¬
cipal chains in the district are the Kalbin-T. agh, Tchingis-
Tagh, Ala-Tagh, and Tarbagatai. Numerous rivers rise
in these mountains, and flow in all directions. The chief
of these are the Irtish, an affluent of the Obi; the Hi, which
flows into Lake Balkhash ; the Tchar-Gurban, falling into
the Irtish ; the Tjunduk, the Aisi-Su, the Kokbekty, the
Bakanas, and the Ajagus. There are also many lakes in
the district; of which the largest are Balkhash, Issik-Kul,
Sasyk-kul, Ala-Kul, and Saisan. Lake Balkhash and the
Hi are navigated by steam-vessels. The country is chiefly
inhabited by Kirghises of the Great and Middle Hordes,
and by Russians; to whom there have been added, in re¬
cent times, a people who conceal their origin, but call them¬
selves Tchala Asaki, or wanderers from Central Asia.
There are also a number of merchants from Kazan, Troizk,
and Petropaulowski; and many strangers from the adjacent
countries of Central Asia. The chief occupation of the
settled population is the keeping of cattle and sheep ; the
Kirghise, on the other hand, live by hunting and fishing.
At some places in the district there have been established
gold washeries, silver mines, lead and copper works. An
important trade is carried on through the districts by means
of caravans, which proceed along the roads that traverse
the country in different directions. On some of these
there have been erected post-houses and inns for the con¬
venience of travellers. Cotton fabrics, cloth, metals, and
furs, are exported from Russia to Turkestan and Songaria,
in exchange for i'aw silk and cotton, carpets, tea, &c. Semi¬
polatinsk was erected into a district in 1854. It is di¬
vided into four circles, and had in 1851 a population of
121,300; though at present it is much more populous.
Semipalatinsk, the capital of the above district, on
the right bank of the Irtish, 400 miles S.S.E. of Omsk.
It is a fortified place, in the midst of a fertile plain covered
with gardens ; and derives its name, signifying “ the seven
palaces,” from certain buildings which the Russians found
there on the conquest of Siberia. Many of the inhabitants
are employed in fishing; and a considerable trade is carried
on. Pop. (1850) 7593.
SEMI-PELAGIANS, a sect who differ from the Pela¬
gians in maintaining the necessity of divine grace towards
the saving of the soul; but conceive, at the same time, that
this grace may be obtained by an effort of the will. (See
Pelagius.)
SEMIRAMIS, queen of Assyria, reigned about five
generations before Nitocris, and constructed some wonder¬
ful works to restrain the waters of the Euphrates within its
banks. Almost everything known regarding her is bound
up with fable ; and except the fact that she was the founder
of the Assyrian monarchy, everything else is open to
doubt. Diodorus gives a more detailed account of her,
which is copied principally from Ctesias. Omitting the
fabulous statements respecting her youth, we there find that
she had a son, Ninyas, from Ninus ; and that after her hus¬
band’s death she thought herself capable of governing the
empire. She founded the city of Babylon, which she sur¬
rounded by walls of immense strength, and adorned by
very wonderful buildings. On the top of the temple of
Belus she placed three statues of massive gold, and from
the middle of the temple rose a tower higher than the
highest pyramid of Egypt. Some have thought that this
was the tower of Babel. She made warlike expeditions
against the Medes, Persians, Libyans, and ^Ethiopians.
She is said to have executed many wonderful works in
S E M
Semitone different parts of her kingdom, changing mountains into
II plains, and constructing canals and palaces. Hearing of
Semlm. tjle riciies an(j p0wer 0f India, she determined to make war
on that kingdom, and prepared an immense army; but she
was in a great measure unsuccessful, and returned with the
loss of nearly her whole army. When she reached Baby¬
lon, her son laid snares for her; and as it had been pre¬
dicted by the oracle of Jupiter Ammon that she would dis¬
appear from the world when this took place, the prediction
was fulfilled. Semiramis was no more seen, having died in
the sixty-second year of her age, and the forty-second of
her reign. Such is the common account of Semiramis.
Much of it is doubtless fabulous. The Semiramis of Hero¬
dotus (i. 184) is palpably different from the Semiramis of
Ctesias. Some connection, however, is supposed to exist
between the queen and Nabonassar, as well as between her
and Pul. (See Rawlinson’s Herodotus, vol. i., p. 50 ; also,
Colonel Sir H. Rawlinson’s communications to the Athen¬
aeum, Nos. 1377 and 1381.) Cuneiform inscriptions found
at Wan, which is called by the Armenians “the City of
Semiramis,5’ are said to relate to the history of the Eastern
queen. As these inscriptions are now being recovered and
placed in the British Museum, they will no doubt ere long
be deciphered and made public by a highly competent
translator.
SEMITONE. See Music.
SEMLER, Johann Salomon, a theological writer of
considerable influence in Germany during his day, was born
at Saalfeld on the 18th of December 1725. He was the
son of an archdeacon of Saalfeld, and was early init^ted
into the doctrines of the Pietists, which, however, he ulti¬
mately exchanged for the rising Rationalism of the time.
He was educated at Halle, where he greatly distinguished
himself, and was appointed to a professorship at Coburg
in 1749. Next year he was made editor of the Coburg
Zeitung, and was removed to Altdorf as professor of his¬
tory and poetry. He was chosen, in 1751, professor of
theology at Halle, where he delivered a course of exceed¬
ingly popular lectures, betraying extensive reading, but
deficient in order and arrangement. In 1757 he was made
director of the theological seminary, which he held till his
dismissal in 1779 by the minister Zedlitz. He spent much
of his time in theological controversy, and attacked his
opponents with considerable bitterness. His adoption of
the Prussian edict regarding religion, in 1778, exposed him
to the charge of inconsistency, and embroiled him in un¬
ceasing feuds, which were ended only with his life. He
died on the 14th of March 1794. Semler was an indus¬
trious writer, and produced numerous works during the
course of his life, of which the principal are his Abhandlung
von der Untersuchung des Canons, 4 vols. 1771; Appa¬
ratus ad Liberalem Veteris Testamenti Interpretationem,
1773; Institutio ad Hoetrinam Christianam, 1774; De
JDemoniacis, 1760; Umstandliche Untersuchung der dci-
monischen Laute, 1762; Versuch einer biblischen Dd-
monologie, 1776; Selecta capita Historice Ecclesiasticce,
1767-69 ; Commentationes Historicce de Antiquo Christi-
anorum Statu, 2 vols. 1771-72 ; Versuch Christlicher
Jahrbucher, 2 vols. 1783-86 ; Observationes Novae, 1784;
and his Autobiographie, 2 vols. 1781-82.
SEMLIN, or Zemlin (Hung. Zimony), a town of the
Austrian empire, in the Military Frontier, on the left bank
of the Danube, just above its confluence with the Save,
on the other side of which stands Belgrade on Turkish
ground. It consists of an inner town, and a suburb called
h ranzenthal. The former contains some good streets and
substantial houses; but the place, as a whole, is mean and
wretched, especially the quarter called Zinkaberg, which is
inhabited by gypsies. Among the edifices are five Roman
Catholic and two Greek churches, a synagogue, an hospital,
a theatre, and several schools. Semlin has a very im-
S E N 43
portant trade, as it is the great emporium for commerce Senac
between Turkey and the Austrian empire, and the prin- II
cipal quarantine station on the frontier. Woollen cloth Senate-
porcelain, and glass are sent to Turkey; and yarn, leather,
skins, honey, and meerschaum-pipes obtained in return.
I he town is fortified, and is occupied by a military com¬
munity, consisting chiefly of Slavonians, Croatians, Ser¬
vians, and Greeks. Pop. 12,978.
SENAC, Jean Baptiste, called also by Haller, in his
Bibliotheca Anaiomica, Pierre, a distinguished French phy¬
sician, was born in the diocese of Lombez in 1693. Hav¬
ing taken his medical degree at Rheims, he subsequently
practised physic with great applause. He was made first
physician to the king in 1752, and a member of the Royal
Academy of Sciences of Paris. In addition to his contri¬
butions to the Memoires de FAcademic, which began as
early as 1824, he likewise published anonymously a Tra¬
duction of the Anatomic of Heister, with additional Essais
de Physique sur V Usage des Parties de Corps Humain,
Paris, 1724, 1735, 1755, 3 vols. 12mo. His next work,
which appeared under the assumed name of Julien Mor¬
rison, entitled, Lettres sur le Choix des Saignees, Paris,
1730, had great sale. His Traite de la Structure du Cceur,
2 vols. 1748, was regarded as his greatest work, and has
been since published at Paris, with additions and emen¬
dations by M. Portal. He likewise published another book
full of profound knowledge, Be Pecondita Febrium Natura
et Curatione, 1759.
SENATE (Senatus, from senex; Tepovcrla from yepwv,
a man advanced in years), in all the republics of antiquity,
was an assembly of the elders, chosen from among the nobles
of the nation. This was the meaning borne by the ancient
Roman senate, and it was likewise the signification of the
Spartan yepovala. In the old republics, the number of
senators always bore a determinate relation to the number
of tribes included under the nation. Thus, when Attica was
divided into four tribes the number of senators was 400;
and when Cleisthenes increased the tribes to ten, he made
the number of senators 500. When Rome, in very early
times, consisted of but a single tribe, the Roman senate
consisted of 100 members ; and when, by the addition of the
Sabine tribe, the nation became increased, the senate then
consisted of 200 members. Again, when the Luceres be¬
came incorporated with the Roman state, the Roman
senate was increased threefold, and numbered 300. Tar-
quinius Priscus, who added new senators to the old as¬
sembly, distinguished between those of his own formation,
and those who had held office before, by designating the
former by the appellation of patres minorum gentium.
Under Tarquin the Proud, the senate is said to have been
greatly diminished by the death and exile which the tyrant
sent into their ranks. (See Niebuhr’s Hist, of Rome).
The vacancies thus occasioned were subsequently filled up
by noble plebeians of the equestrian rank; and hence they
bore the designation of conscript fathers, or of patres et
conscripti. The numbers being thus raised again to the
original 300, the senate remained for many centuries alto¬
gether unaltered.
A change of some kind was proposed on the number and
the constitution of the senators, by C. S. Gracchus, but of
what precise kind does not appear. Under the tribuneship of
Livius Drusus, 300 equites were added to the original senate,
which swelled out its numbers to 600. This law was abo¬
lished, however, by the senate itself on the death of its origi¬
nator, and its numbers again stood at the old figure of 300.
Vacancies occurred during the progress of the civil war
between Marius and Sulla; and it is supposed that the latter
raised the Roman senate to between 500 and 600. (Cicero
ad Att. i. 14). The first of the Caesars raised their number
to 900, and exalted to the dignity common soldiers, freed-
men, and peregrini. (Suetonius, Coes. 80.) This opening
44 SEN
Senate, of the door to the vulgar was imitated after Caesar’s death,
when the senators seem to have been augmented to the
number of 1000. Augustus cleared the senate of these
Orcini Senatores, as they were called (Suetonius, Aug. 35),
and limited their number to 600, which seems to have con¬
tinued constant during the early centuries of the empire.
The number of senators must have been greatly diminished
during its latter years. The several periods of the history of
Home afforded progressive changes in the election of persons
to the senatorial dignity. It was an old opinion, founded on
a passage in Livy (i. 8), and another in Festus {Prceteriti
Senatores), that in the early period of the history of the
Roman people, the choice of senators lay exclusively with
the kings. Niebuhr {Hist, of Rome, i.) has cast doubt on
this belief, without being able to substantiate the convic¬
tion to which he adheres—namely, that the populus was the
sole power, who chose kings and senators alike to act as
their representatives in the high councils of the nation.
Almost all the old authorities adhere to the opinion that
the senators were chosen by the sole voice of the king, and
their testimony cannot be fairly set aside on such slender
evidence as Niebuhr employs. Nothing more is known
respecting the time of life at which a man could become a
senator during the kingly period than is specified by the
title itself {senator, from senex) ; that is, that he must be
advanced in years. A man could not become a senator
most probably before the age of thirty-two. The age was
finally fixed by Augustus at twenty-five, which seems to
have continued the law throughout the entire existence of
the empire. The senate itself seems to have had some
voice in the election of members to join its body, for we
find it raising objections against a person just elected
(Dionys. vii. 55). The entire senate was divided into
decuries, each of which corresponded to a curia. Ori¬
ginally, when the senate consisted of 100 members, there
were in all ten decuries, and one senator chosen from
each decury made ten senators, which constituted the
decern primi, who represented the ten curies, and who
gave their votes first. The principal senator was chosen
by the king, and was the first among the decern primi to
give his vote.
On the establishment of the republic at Rome, the elec¬
tion of senators, which had hitherto rested with the king,
fell to the magistrates, consuls, consular tribunes, and
finally to the censors (Livy ii. and Festus, as above). I he
censors had the sole power to choose or refuse new mem¬
bers to the senate, from among the ex-magistrates, from
the institution of the censorship in Rome. We must like¬
wise distinguish between real senators and official senators,
or those who merely took their seats in the senate-house,
and were permitted to speak but not to-vote. These were
the persons who held the office of curule magistrate.
(Gellius, iii. 18 ; Festus, Senatores). The senate-house
was now gradually changing its character into a popular
assembly. From the time that the public and private offices
of state became equally accessible to plebeians as well as to
patricians, the senate gradually changed, until in a short
time the dignity was regarded as one that properly belonged
to the populus to confer. Yet it did not degenerate into a
mere democratic gathering; for its members of all classes
belonged to the nobiles, whether they were of plebeian or
patrician origin. The office of princeps senatus was usually
given to the oldest ex-censor, or to any other on whom their
electoral regards happened to alight. The fixing of a de¬
finite income for senators was limited entirely to the age
of the empire. Augustus first laid it down at 400,000
sesterces, and subsequently it rose as high as 1,200,000
sesterces. Those senators who were found deficient, re¬
ceived grants from the emperor, and those who had wasted
their estate by vice and prodigality were sternly reminded
that their presence could thereafter be dispensed with. No
SEN
senator was permitted to engage in any mercantile pursuit,
although it is plain from what is recorded by Cicero
{Verves, v. 18) that this law was often violated. A new
element was likewise introduced into the senate by the ad¬
mission of municipal, colonial, and provincial functionaries.
These officials, of course, were required to fix their residence
at Rome, or in some part of Italy; and they were not per¬
mitted to remove to their native districts without special
permission from Augustus, or from the reigning emperor.
Regular meetings of the senate took place on the calends,
nones, and ides of each month. The right of convocation
was limited during the monarchical period to the king or the
custos urbis ; during the republic it was extended first to
the curule magistrates, and subsequently to the tribunes;
during the empire it was confined to the emperor, and was
likewise dispensed to the consuls, praetors, and tribunes.
The places where the senate held their meetings were
always opened by the augurs. The most ancient senate-
house was the Curia Flostilia; and during the successive
changes which the government of the country underwent,
it was transferred to different buildings, until at last it was
by no means uncommon to find it held in the house of the
consul. During the early history of the senate the patri¬
cian power was quite unlimited, except by the kingly autho¬
rity ; and when a perfect equality came at length to be
established between the patricians and the plebeians, the
Roman senate witnessed its best days of freedom. Under
the despotic government of the emperors, which succeeded,
it became the plastic tool of the princeps senatus, who
was tvery commonly the emperor. And not only did the
emperor gather up into his own hands all the power
formerly possessed by the magistrates, he likewise con¬
trolled, in the most absolute and irresponsible manner,
all the deliberations and all the determinations of the
senate.
Under the palmy days of the Roman senate, that body had
the supreme superintendence of everything connected with
religion, war, and finance. It decreed to what provinces con¬
suls and praetors were to be sent. It determined what commis¬
sioners were to be despatched from Rome to settle the admin¬
istration of a newly acquired country. It settled all treaties
of peace, and other political negotiations, between the parent
country and other foreign states. It took special cognizance
of all crimes, such as treason, conspiracies, poisoning, and
murder. It gave and received the representations of am¬
bassadors, and heard the complaints of subject or of allied
nations. In short, everything, whether within or without
the republic, of which Rome chose to take cognizance, was
committed to the care of the senate. A decree of the
senate was called a senatus consultum. When Byzantium
was made the second capital of the Roman empire, a second
senate was likewise instituted there as well as at Rome, and
continued to perform its part in the legislation of the em¬
pire down to the ninth century.
The more distinguished badges and privileges enjoyed
by the Roman senators were as follows:—The tunica, with
a broad purple stripe in front; and a short boot, with the
letter C on the front of the foot, supposed to be the initial
of the word centum, in allusion to the early senate of Rome,
which consisted of 100 members; the right of occupying
the orchestra of theatres and amphitheatres ; the right of a
senatorial feast, when the public sacrifice was offered to
Jove in the capitol; and the right of free embassage {libera
legatio), made up the whole of the more important benefits
enjoyed by the senators of Rome.
SENECA, M. Annceus, a famous rhetorician, father of
the philosopher. He was born in the old and flourishing
colony of Corduba, in Spain, a country which at this time
exercised a powerful influence on the politics and literature
of Rome. His family was of equestrian rank, and had never
attained to any of the curule honours (Tac. Ann.) Whether
Seneca.
SENECA.
Seneca.
the gens Anncea was of Spanish or Italian origin, and
whether the names Annceus and Seneca have any connec¬
tion with the words “aunus”and “ senex” (as Lipsius
thinks), is uncertain. Clinton places the date of Seneca’s
birth about B.c. 61, as may be inferred from his own state¬
ment, that but for the civil wars he might have heard the
eloquence of Cicero, who was the only great orator of that
day to whom he had not listened.1 After spending some
time at Rome, and making acquaintance with many of his
most eminent contemporaries, he returned to Cordova, and
married Helvia, a Spanish lady of amiable character and
great accomplishments. By her he had three sons, all of
whom acquired great celebrity—viz., Novatus, the eldest,
who afterwards took the name of Junius Gallic, and on
whom the Christian world has bestowed an unenviable no¬
toriety, by proverbially misapplying an expression of St
Luke ;2 Seneca, the philosopher; and Mela, the father of the
poet Lucan. After a sojourn in Spain, he once more went
to Rome with his family; and no further particulars are
known about him, except that he lived in wealth and repu¬
tation, probably till the close of the reign of Tiberius.
Parts of two works written by Seneca in his old age are
extant—the Controversies and Suasorice. Both of them are
collections of mere rhetorical exercises; the first on ima¬
ginary cases, such as might have occurred in real life; the
second on historical events and circumstances in the lives
of great men. As literary productions they are nearly
worthless, in spite of the author’s retentive memory and
polished style; they are only valuable as indications of the
temper and taste which began to be prevalent in the early
days of the empire. The greatest minds, debarred from
the real eloquence which is only compatible with political
freedom, sought some rest for their wounded spirits in the
“resigned yet militant” philosophy of the Porch—a philos¬
ophy which, as has been well remarked, “ almost enveloped
its votaries in an atmosphere of Christianity.” But those
who, like M. Annoeus, despised or disliked3 philosophical
pursuits, were forced to take refuge in oratorical puerilities,
the practice of which gave them a mechanical facility
which they mistook for fluency, and a verbiage which they
confounded with eloquence. We have, however, in the
elder Seneca, only the germs of that affected style which
afterwards characterized the silver age of Roman literature.
He is not, indeed, entirely free from the growing degeneracy;
but he belonged to another period, and remembered a better
taste.4
The best edition of the Suasorice and Controversies is
that of Andr. Schottus, Paris, 1607, which contains all the
notes of N.Fabrr, Gruter, Lipsius, Opsopaeus,&c; (f. w.f.)
Seneca, L. Annceus, the most prominent and interesting
man of his time, was the second son of Seneca the rheto¬
rician. He was born at Cordova, b.c. 3 (about the same time
as the Apostle St Paul), and brought to Rome by his family
when an infant inarms.5 From the first he was of a feeble
constitution. His life, like that of Pope, was “a long dis¬
ease; and he was liable from infancy to nervous shivers,
asthma, fever, and fainting.6 Butin a delicate and languid
body lived a daring and restless soul, to which, perhaps, his
upamsh descent had given a touch of “ phantasy and flame.”
he intense and characteristic ardour of his studies tended
still more to undermine his health. Although his father
mainly urged him to the pursuits of rhetoric, philosophy
attracted him with superior charms; and he gladly turned
rom the dull platitudes of artificial eloquence to the spi¬
ritual guidance of Demetrius the Cynic, and Sotion the
yt lagorean. He found a sublime pleasure in carrying
45
their precepts into daily practice; like Attalus, he learned
to he on a hard mattress, and like Sextus he became a
vegetarian in diet and subjected himself to daily7 self-
examination. The worthy rhetorician, his father, regarded
these vagaries of philosophic asceticism with strong intel¬
lectual dislike ; but he persuaded Seneca to abandon them,
rather on the ground that they laid him open to the suspi¬
cion of adopting those oriental superstitions the proselytes
of which had recently been banished from Rome by an edict
of 1 iberius. Seneca, however, never quite forgot the Stoic
precepts of temperance and sobriety. In the bosom of opu¬
lence he remained an enemy of the Ionian luxuries of
baths and perfumes; he slept lightly, and drank but little
wine; ami whatever may have been the value or splen¬
dour of his 500 cedar and ivory-footed tables, they were
rarely spread with any entertainment more sumptuous than
water, vegetables, and fruit.
Turned by filial respect into less congenial pursuits, he
threw his whole mind into public and forensic duties. He
was elected quaestor, and soon won a brilliant reputation at
the bar. His fame and ability excited the jealousy of the
Lmperor Caligula, who himself pretended to eloquence, and
had a deadly hatred of superior genius. Domitius Afer had
already saved himself from the tyrant’s spiteful fury, by an
acknowledgment of inferiority.8 Seneca only owed his life
to his ill health ; for Caligula was assured by one of his
mistresses that so sickly a subject could not last long. The
emperor accordingly contented himself with contemptu¬
ous descriptions of Senecas style, which he called “sand
without lime.”9
Forced by this danger to change his plans, Seneca once
more began to devote himself to philosophy, and mastered
with great assiduity the voluminous treatises" of Plato, Aris¬
totle, Zeno, Chrysippus, and Epicurus. This was probably
the period of his greatest intellectual activity, because he was
living in the closest intercourse with all the literary men of
the day, undisturbed by any public or professional duties.
If he ever travelled in Egypt, where his uncle had been
praefect for sixteen years, it must have been about this time.
But the journey is very doubtful; and the fact that he tra¬
velled at all, although eagerly believed by those who wish
to attribute some of his knowledge to Jewish or Christian
information, is a mere precarious inference from the title of
a lost treatise on India.10
Upon the death of Caligula, Seneca was free to resume
his political ambition, but a sudden check was put to his
splendid career. He was accused of adulterous intercourse
with Julia, the beautiful and infamous sister of the late
emperor, whom Claudius had recalled from her banishment
in the island of Pontia. The charge was brought by Mes-
salina, who both hated and feared her haughty kinswoman ;
but the guilt of the accuser is not sufficient to exonerate
Seneca from participation in the crime. Because Messalina
was a licentious and cruel woman, it does not follow that
Seneca was an innocent man; and it seems to us unlikely
that he should have been fixed upon for punishment, with¬
out some adequate grounds of suspicion. Considering the
weakness, the deplorable weakness, of Seneca’s character,
the laxity of the age in such matters, and the certainty that
this and similar charges11 clung to him through life, there is
reason to fear his guilt. We do not think that this would
have deterred such a woman as Agrippina from subse¬
quently making him the tutor of Nero. Even in the nine¬
teenth century, and in Christian countries, we do not find
men precluded from filling the most exalted and respon¬
sible stations from the notoriety of their immoral lives.
Seneca.
1 Sen. Prcef. in Control)., lib. i.
7 ^iebul?.r.’8 Rome> “i. 192, ed. Schmitz. e Co,
9 a \CVi'i;’ Cix- ’ Aubertin’s Stntque et St Paul, p. 156.
D Suet. Cahg. hii. r ia
2 Acts xviii. 12.
6 Consol, ad Helv. xvi.
10 Plin. H. N. vi. 17.
3 Sen., Ep. cviii., “ Philosophiam Oderat.”
6 Ad Hdv. xvii.; Ep. liv. 78.
8 Dion. lix. 19.
11 Tac. xiii. 41 ; Dio. Ixi. 10.
46 SEN
Seneca. Claudius appears to have mitigated1 the original severity
of the sentence passed by the senate, and Seneca was ba¬
nished to the island of Corsica, without any confiscation of
his property (b.c. 41). Barbarous, and savage, and tenible
as the rocks of Corsica appeared to the exile, this eight
years’ banishment was to him an unmixed blessing, and
was the period of his life on which we can dwell with
the most pleasure. It mollified the virulence of the envi¬
ous, and excited the compassion of the good ; it in¬
creased his real reputation, while it diminished his obvious
dangers. Above all, it gave him a season of calm and
safety for the growth and nurture of his character and
genius. In the intoxication of prosperity and power, he
never forgot the sobering lessons of humiliation and mis¬
fortune; and perhaps, while the seas and stars and winds
were supplying food for his philosophic contemplation, he
was nearer happiness than while he was the prey of anxiety
and suspicion in the midst of gardens and villas that an
emperor might have envied.
Two works, which resulted from his residence at Corsica,
are extremely curious illustrations of his wavering impulses,
the Consolatio ad Helviam and the Consolatio ad Poly-
bium. The former was written to comfort his mother with
the thought that he was raised by the study of philosophy
above the need of pity. He eloquently praises the glories
of nature, and the delicious reveries of intellectual solitude ;
and some, at least, of his arguments bear the impress of sin¬
cerity. Yet, in the Consolatio ad Polybium, he implores
an unprincipled freedman to procure his acquittal even at
the cost of his character, and he endeavours to gain the
repeal of his sentence by the grossest adulation to the
“ divine and merciful” emperor. The admirers of Seneca
have always wished to prove this work spurious; but it is
merely another example of a fact which is sufficiently ob¬
vious to any impartial judge, that Seneca was a philosopher
in name alone. Let us remember, too, that such language,
however little it could have been used by a Thrasea or an
Helvidius, was all but universal in that enslaved, degraded
age. It meant a great deal less than it seems to mean ;
and such epithets conveyed quite as little impression of
flattery to a Roman ear as our own terms “ religious and
gracious,” when applied to a Charles II. or a George IV.
We now come to the third stage of Seneca’s eventful life.
Messalina being dead, her successor Agrippina determined,
by a stroke of policy, at once to gain a first-rate adviser and
to secure popular applause, by persuading the easy emperor
to recall the philosopher, elevate him to the praetorship, and
make him the tutor of the young Nero (a.d. 49). Seneca
was not superior to the splendid temptation of such a pro¬
posal, though, even with his marvellous reputation, he could
hardly have hoped for much legitimate influence in such a
court, composed as it was of an uxorious dotard, insolent
freedmen, and licentious women. He may have had an
honest desire to serve his generation, or he may have been
unable to decline the proffer; but at any rate he must have
been aware, that in undertaking the duties of the position,
he was entering a region perilous alike to his rectitude and
his peace.
From this time the biography of Seneca must assume
the form of an apology rather than ot a panegyric. 1 he
philosopher is merged in the courtier, and we see the Stoic
transformed in his public life into a minister both supple
and complaisant. The “ comitas honesta” which Tacitus
attributes to him can only be an euphemism for unworthy
subservience. It was, perhaps, impossible for him to instil
anything noble into the weak and degraded mind of Nero ;
but Seneca must certainly incur the blame of signal failure
EGA.
in the management of his pupil. A loose and ignorant Seneca,
youth, initiated from infancy into all the mysteriesof iniquity, v v
the son of vile parents, and the heir to boundless expecta¬
tions, was not likely to become either wise or good. But
if Seneca had guided him with a firmer will and a stronger
hand, might he not have been saved from developing into
a monster ? If Nero had seen in his tutor a man of high
aims and stainless integrity, is it possible that he could
ever have formed a cherished2 * belief that all men, however
successful their hypocrisy, were at heart as degraded and
as infamous as himself? The treatise which Seneca ad¬
dresses to him on clemency, and the appeal, in which he
reminds his pupil of past expostulations, are indeed proofs
that the philosopher could give admirable advice in a grace¬
ful and dignified manner; but advice alone, even when
accompanied by good example, would have been as inef¬
fectual with Nero as it was with the sons of Eli; and, un-
happilv, it will be seen that Seneca, while yielding to the
pleas of expediency, belied the precepts of his philosophy
in the weakness of his life.
No sooner was Claudius poisoned than Seneca wrote
the flowery official oration in which Nero pronounced his
funeral eulogium, and a satire against his foibles, over¬
flowing with the deadliest contempt. It is possible that
the oration, which was received with laughter, was merely
an audacious piece of irony. The satire has come dowm
to us, and displays the “ divine and merciful” emperor in
all his wretchedness. The very name4 by which it was
commonly known conveys the bitterest sarcasm ; it involves
a comparison between Claudius and one of “ those bloated
gourds which sun their speckled bellies before the doors of
the Roman peasants.” His deification, according to Se¬
neca, should have been called gourdification. “ The senate
decreed his divinity; Seneca translated it into pump-
kinity.”5 This fragment of antiquity is very curious and
interesting: it begins with spattering mud on the despised
memory of the divine Claudius ; it ends with a shower ot
poetic roses over the glory of the diviner Nero !
It was a terrible court for a Stoic to live in. Seneca and
his somewhat stolid, but far more virtuous, colleague, the
soldier Burrus, had to combine their courteous wisdom
and military bluntness, in order to check at once the inso¬
lent ambition of Agrippina and the mad passions of her
son. Whatever may have been Seneca’s public obligations
to Agrippina, or his private intrigues with her, he sided
unhesitatingly with Nero. At first the new government
gave an illusory hope of justice and clemency. Nero de¬
livered many harangues full of promise, which it was well
known that Seneca had written, either, says Tacitus, “ to
prove6 that his counsels were beneficial, or to show off his
intellectual power.” We might have hoped that Seneca had
a nobler object in view, but it is sad to find that Tacitus
gives no hint of it; and we cannot but fear that he had far
more accurate means of estimating the character of the
philosopher than we can pretend to have. Seneca did,
however, succeed for a time in restraining the savage
canine nature of his pupil from the taste7 of human blood.
He was less successful in governing Nero’s licentiousness,
and was forced not only to connive at, but even to encour¬
age the youth’s unworthy amour with the freedwoman
Acte.
Blacker events followed. Nero murdered his young and
innocent brother, Britannicus, and Seneca was more than
suspected of having had his share of the largesses by which
the murderer sought to remove the odium of the8 deed.
Nor must we forget that the treatise de dementia, in which
he expresses such hysterical admiration of the young em-
1 Ad Polyb. xxxii. 2 Sueton. Fit. Neron.
4 Ludu de Morte C. Ccesaris, or AwoxohoxuvTaiirii, Dion. lx. 35.
6 Tac. Ann. xiii. 11. 7 Schol. ad Juv. v. 109.
3 Ann. xv. 6.
6 Merivale’s Roman Empire, v. 601.
8 Tac. Ann. xiii. 18.
^ SEN
Seneca, peror’s goodness of heart, was written after the commission
—of this most atrocious crime. Nero next caused the assassi¬
nation of his mother, and Seneca, even if ignorant of the
first attempt upon her life, of which Dion1 Cassius charges
him with being the instigator, was the first to break the
hideous silence,2 in sanction of the expediency which de¬
manded the completion of the murder. Besides this, he
was the author of the letter in which Nero at once black¬
ened his mother’s memory, and gave an account of her
death too ridiculously false to gain a moment’s credence.
It is awful to think of this patron of virtue sitting down to
adorn with his usual3 graces of style the defence of an in¬
cestuous matricide, by imputations which he knew to be
groundless and an assertion which he knew to be a lie.
In spite of the dark whispers of the people, and the open
charges which had been brought against him by4 Suilius,
Seneca was now at the summit of his fame. His overgrown
wealth was the reward of his guilty connivance. Two of
his greatest contemporaries, Juvenal5 and Tacitus, call him
“prsedives,” “the too wealthy.” His enemies accused him
of increasing this wealth by the basest arts of the legacy-
hunter and the parasite; but even if this be false, he cer¬
tainly did increase it by enormous usury, which “ exhausted
Italy and the provinces.” Dion,6 who omits no opportunity
of aspersing his memory, even accuses him of having caused
the war with Britain, by suddenly recalling the enormous
sum of 4,000,000 sestertii. The terms in which he himself
alludes to his income leave no reason to doubt that it
amounted to 300,000,000 sestertii, and his single7 defence,
that he owed it all to Nero’s bounty, is very lame and un¬
worthy. His wealth was unquestionably dishonourable to
him. “ The business of a philosopher,” says Lord Mac¬
aulay,8 “ was to declaim in praise of poverty with two mil¬
lions sterling out at usury, to meditate epigrammatic con¬
ceits about usury in gardens that moved the envy of so¬
vereigns, to rant about liberty while fawning on the inso¬
lent and pampered freedmen of a tyrant, to celebrate the
divine beauty of virtue with the same pen that had just
before written the defence of the murder of a mother by
a son.”
His riches hastened his ruin, Burrus died, perhaps by
poison, in a.d. 63, and was succeeded by Rufus and Tigel-
linus, both of whom excited the jealousy and suspicion of
Nero against the hated philosopher. Feeling his danger,
he demanded an interview with the emperor, and begged
leave to resign his vast possessions, and after his fourteen
years of service, to retire into private life. Nero declined
the offer with treacherous caresses, and the strongest assev¬
erations of regard; but Seneca, under the pretence of study
and ill health, withdrew from affairs of state, reduced his
princely establishment, and avoided publicity by every
means in his power.9
Not long after, when Nero began to add sacrilege to his
other crimes, Seneca once more asked permission to leave
Rome, and, on a second refusal, feigned a severe illness, and
confined himself to his chamber. It was thought that an
attempt of Nero to poison him by the instrumentality of his
freedman Cleonicus, was only defeated by the confession
of the accomplice, or by the abstemious habits of the philo¬
sopher, who now took only bread and fruit as his food, and
quenched his thirst only out of the running stream.10
Under circumstances such as these, we should hardly be
surprised if he turned conspirator. His popularity and
wealth made him not only a tempting prey, but a danger-
E c A.
ous and dreaded rival. Even in a.d. 63, he had been
suspected of a treasonable correspondence with Piso, and
in a.d. 66, he was actually charged with a knowledge of
Piso’s political intrigues. The evidence brought against
him was of the feeblest character, but there was a report
to which Juvenal,11 as well as Tacitus, seems to allude, that
Subrius Flavus had, with Seneca’s knowledge, entertained a
design of murdering Piso, in case of his conspiracy succeed¬
ing, and of then offering the imperial power to Seneca himself.
The rumour is at least a proof of Seneca’s dangerous popu¬
larity ; and Nero, long disgusted by the tacit reproach of
his hated tutor’s mere existence, determined, with great
alacrity, to get rid of him. After giving a futile hint, the
tribune Granins Sylvanus was sent expressly to command
his suicide. Seneca was supping with his young wife Pau¬
lina in a villa five miles from the city, and not being allowed
to see his will, prepared at once to put the order of death
into execution, consoling his friends with the too compla¬
cent observation, that he would at least leave to them the
legacy of a noble example. Checking their tears and la¬
mentations, and reluctantly yielding to his wife’s12 desire to
share his death, he caused his own veins and those of Pau¬
lina to be opened at one blow. His blood flowed so slowly,
in consequence of age and feebleness, that it was afterwards
necessary to open the veins of his legs; and his torments
were so prolonged and excruciating that he was forced to
separate from Paulina, in order to spare her the pain of
witnessing them. Paulina’s life was saved by the order of
Nero, though her white face showed ever after how much
she had endured. Meanwhile, Seneca having swallowed
in vain a draught of hemlock, was placed in a warm bath,
and as he entered it, sprinkled his slaves with the water,
saying, that it was a libation to Jupiter the Liberator.
Finally, growing impatient of the useless agony, he was
carried into a sudatorium, and stifled by the warm vapour
a.d. 65. He was at this time about seventy years of age.
His friends afterwards published the eloquent messages
which he had delivered to them during his dying moments,
and which they had taken down at his own request. His
body was privately burned without any ceremony, accord¬
ing to the directions which he had left in his will, written
in the days of his prosperity and power.
Lipsius and others have made the character of Seneca
a theme for extravagant admiration ; but they do so by
omitting all those black and ugly particulars which mark
the period of his elevation. So admirable is his theoretic
morality, that the forged correspondence between him and
St Paul was long accepted as genuine, and on the strength
of it he has been quoted as an authority by fathers and
councils, and almost spoken of as a Christian by Tertullian
and St Jerome.13 Yet, at the best, his life is a melancholy
spectacle; it was one long conscious inconsistency; one
continual surrender of real duty to fancied expediency.
Some of his worst acts may find a parallel jn the lives of
greater and better men ; but his defence of Nero’s matri¬
cide is many shades more disgraceful than Bacon’s apology
for the execution of Essex, or Milton’s arguments for the
murder of Charles I. Even if we judge him, independently
of his philosophic pretensions, he presents a somewhat des¬
picable appearance. Niebuhr’s judgment of him is quite
just. “ He was an accomplished man of the world, who
occupied himself very much with virtue, and may have con¬
sidered himself to be an ancient stoic. He certainly be¬
lieved that he was a most ingenious and virtuous philo-
1 Ixi. 12. 2 Ann. xiv. 12. 3 Quinct., Imt. Orat. viii. 5, 18. 4 Ann. xiii. 42. 6 Juv. x. 16.
6 Ixii. 2. 7 Ann. xv. 53; Sen., de Benef. iii. 18. 8 Essay on Lord Bacon.
9 Ann. xiv. 56. ‘ io xv> 45. 11 gat. viii. 212.
12 Dion’s account, as usual, has a more malignant colouring (Ixi. 10; Ixii. 25); hut in this instance his calumnious propensity is too
obvious to entitle him to any regard.
13 See the quotations in Lipsius, Condi. Turonens, ii. 15; Lactant., Div. Just. i. 4; Aug., de Civ. Dei, vi. 10 ; Tertull., de Anim. i.;
Jerome, de Script, Ecel. c. 12.
48 SEN
Seneca, sopher; but he acted on the principle that, as far as he
's'»himself was concerned, he might dispense with the laws of
morality which he laid down for others, and that he might
give way to his natural propensities.”1 This judgment may
sound harsh, but in point of fact Seneca never professes for
a moment to rise in practice to the level of his philosophic
aspirations. He was, he tells us, not virtuous, but a lover
of virtue; not a philosopher, but a student of philosophy.
“ I am pre-occupied,” he says, “ with vices.2 * All I require
of myself is, not to be equal to the best, but only to be
better than the bad.”
As a philosopher, Seneca has no great claims on our
attention. He abounds, indeed, in those noble and ad¬
vanced ethical conclusions whose wide dissemination made
them the avant-couriersz for the reception of Christianity,
and which seem to have resulted from the profound thought¬
fulness forced upon the greatest intellects by the desperate
condition of the times. But we find in him no approach
to a consistent system; he expresses the thoughts of the
moment with eloquence and precision, but perhaps in the
next treatise we find him contradicting and refuting them.
His intellect4 has an encyclopaedic character, and like some
modern writers, he united the claims of orator, poet, philos¬
opher, geographer, historian, and naturalist. In all these
branches of learning he shows conspicuous cleverness, but
does not rise in any of them to first-rate eminence. Cali¬
gula was not far wrong in criticising his intellectual efforts
as “ commissiones meras,” isolated and unsubstantiated
displays. Seneca had successively experienced the weari¬
ness of exile, the luxury of power, and the bitterness of re¬
tirement and disgrace, and it is no wonder that his works
contain many inconsistencies, because they are strongly
marked by the impress of the period of his life at which
they were written. For instance, in his book De Con¬
stantin Sapientis, glowing in all the fervour of philosophic
intolerance, he eloquently praises the quietism and (bra-
6iia of Stilpo; whereas in the De Animi tranquillitate,
and in the De Otio Sapientis, published after his recall
from exile, he departs widely from the principles of
stoicism, and pronounces with equal enthusiasm in favour
of an active life.5 The treatise, De Vita Beatd, composed
at a later period of his court career, becomes almost
Epicurean in its estimate of worldly advantages, and in
some places sounds like a personal apology for those actions
of Seneca which were most open to adverse criticisms. In
a similar manner we can trace in the wavering and often
contradictory conclusions of his other writings the im¬
mediate influences by which he was surrounded.
Besides the works which we have mentioned, Seneca
wrote excellent little treatises on Providence and on the
Shortness of Life ; three books on Anger, which, accord¬
ing to Valerius Maximus, was a prevalent vice of the
Roman character ; a Dissertation on Clemency, addressed
to Nero at the commencement of his reign ; and seven
books on Benefits, in which he takes care to prove that, in
spite of the boundless gifts which Nero had heaped upon
him, the favours of a tyrant are wanting in all the requi¬
sites which invite or necessitate a feeling of gratitude.
But his two best works are the Letters to Lncilius and the
Natural Questions. In the Letters, written during his old
age and retirement, he stores up the mellow maxims of a
long and chequered experience ; laying aside the pedantry
of the philosopher, he gives free and natural expression to
the hopes and emotions of the man. Foreseeing the ulti¬
mate necessity of suicide, he looks forward to it with calm
and steady pleasure, as a happy release from the insolence
of power and the plots of crime. The seven books of
SEN
Naturales Qucestiones were commenced during his exile’ Senegal,
but finished and revised in his later years. They contain
many fine passages and curious conjectures. But Seneca
studies physical science only for the sake of its moral
applications. If he speaks of the composition of mirrors,
he takes occasion to denounce the abuse of them for the
purposes of vanity and vice ; if he is treating of poisons he
bursts into an eloquent digression against the refinements of
Roman sensuality. The main object of his work is to
remove superstitious errors and empty fears, and his work
may be regarded as a religious continuation of the atheistic
speculations of Lucretius.6
Whether the wretched epigrams attributed to Seneca
are genuine is uncertain ; that the ten tragedies which pass
under his name are so is generally admitted, and could
perhaps never have been doubted but for the distinction
which Sidonius Apollinaris makes between Seneca the
tragedian and Seneca the philosopher. The isolated
testimony of such an author cannot outweigh the evidence
of Quinctilian,7 and other writers who were almost Seneca’s
cotemporaries. These tragedies^ are adapted not so much
for the stage as for recitation, and are not to be compared
with the great dramas of the Greek poets ; but they con¬
tain many beauties, and do not at all detract from our high
estimate of Seneca’s literary abilities.
It has been said that the man who corrupts the style of
his age is often as great a genius as the man who improves
it. Seneca is a case in point, for to him was mainly due
the inferior taste of the later Romans. The desire to say
brilliant things—the antitheses and ornaments of his lan¬
guage—in a word, his conceits of rhetoric would, as
Niebuhr has remarked, be quite intolerable if they came
from a less ingenious man. Quinctilian, who was accused
of depreciating him, happily observes that “ he abounds in
beautiful defects, and that one could have wished him to
follow his own genius, and some one else’s judgment.”8
Inferior writers imitated his dulcia vitia, without the
ability which rendered them endurable; and adopted his
picturesque turns of expression, without the thoughtfulness
which made them valuable. He has been the special
favourite of French writers; and Montaigne and Diderot
have spoken warmly in his praise. He was the undoubted
source of a great intellectual movement; and we may trace
his influence, not only in writers like Florus and Quintus
Curtins, but in Pliny, Quinctilian, and even Tacitus himself.
“ Tacite,” says Montaigne, “ ne tire pas mal a 1’escrire de
Senequeand although the historian seems to have re¬
garded the philosopher with a little spleen, yet he was,
perhaps, indebted to him unconsciously, not only for isolated
thought, but for the very idea of his historical "style.
Among the editions of Seneca we may mention that of
Schottus, Paris, 1607; and the Bipont edition, Strasbourg,
1809. There is a French translation by Lagrange, and an
English one by Dr Thos. Lodge, Lond., 1614. (r. w.r.)
SENEGAL, a river of Western Africa, formed by the
union of two branches, called the Ba Fing and the Ba
Woolima. The former, which is the larger of the two, rises
about N. Lat. 10. 30.; W. Long. 11. 19., in the mountains
forming the south border of the elevated plain of Foota
Jallon. It flows first to the east, past the town of Timbo,
then turns to the north, traversing the desert of Jallon
Kadoo; and after a course of more than 400 miles, unites
its waters with the Ba Woolima. This river rises consi¬
derably to the N.E. of the other, near the left bank of the
Joliba, or Niger, about N. Lat. 13., and W. Long. 7. 50.
It flows first N.W., then W. for a distance of 300 miles,
before joining the Ba Fing. The confluence takes place
1 Lectures on Roman History, iii. 195.
3 See Merivale’s Empire, vi. 294.
® Charpentier, p. 263.
2 Ep. 75, de V. Beat. 17, quoted by Lipsius and Merivale, vi. 85.
4 Aubertin, p. 169. 6 Charpentier, Des Ecrivains Lat., p. 252.
7 Inst. Orat. ix. 2; x. 1. 8 Inst. Oral. x. 1, 129.
SEN
SEN
49.
Senegal, about N. Lat. 14. 10., W. Lonjr. 10. 30. From this point
the united stream runs first N.W., and then W., till it falls
into the Atlantic, by two mouths, near the French settle¬
ment of St Louis. The whole length of the river is esti¬
mated at 1000 miles. Its most important affluents are the
Furkooma, which joins the lla-Fing; the Kokorro, which
flows into the Ba-Woolima; and the Ba-Faleine, which falls
into the united stream. In the lower part of its course the
Senegal several times divides itself into branches, which
enclose islands of considerable size. The navigation of the
river is interrupted by the cataract of Feloo, which is 80
feet high, and nearly 600 miles above the mouth of the
river, following its course, though not more than 350 in a
straight line. This cataract, which is situated about 100
miles above the confluence of the Ba-Faleme, is the prin¬
cipal one on the river; forty miles above it is that of Go-
vinea. The windings of the Senegal are remarkably tor¬
tuous and circuitous. As far as the rock of Feloo, the
country through which it flows is a level, having so small an
inclination that a very slight interruption is sufficient to
divert the course of the stream, so that it frequently seems
on the point of returning to its source. It is only navigable
during the rainy season, which extends from June till
November; and even then the navigation is very slow and
tedious. At the mouth of the river there is a bar, which
prevents the entrance of all vessels drawing more than 12
feet of water, although immediately within it there is suffi¬
cient depth for ships of any size. The entrance of the bar
has shifted from time to time, owing to the influence of
opposite currents. Were it not for the perils to be met
with on this river, it would be particularly interesting to the
naturalist, as the extremely picturesque banks present a rich
variety of the noblest productions of the vegetable king¬
dom, whilst the extensive forests abound with all kinds of
wild animals. Amongst others, elephants are seen in large
troops. In the shallow parts of the river are a vast number
of hippopotami, and caymans of prodigious size. The
Senegal, like the Nile, annually overflows its banks, and
spreads its fertilizing waters over the surrounding country.
It forms the boundary during a great part of its course be¬
tween the arid plains of the Sahara on the north, and the
fertile regions of Senegambia on the south.
Senegal, a colonial dependency of France, on the W.
coast of Africa. It consists of the island and town of St
Louis, at the mouth of the Senegal; several forts along
that river; the island and fort of Goree, off Cape Verd;
and Allreda, at the mouth of the Gambia (see Louis St,
and Goree). The trade and navigation of these settle¬
ments is considerable. In the year 1852 there entered at
St Louis 89 vessels, all French, with a tonnage of 11,451 ;
and there cleared 69, likewise all French, with a tonnage
of 7418. At Goree in the same year there entered 330,
of which 309, tonnage 19,503, were French ; and there
cleared 280, of which 262, tonnage 16,345, were French.
The following table exhibits the amount of goods of dif¬
ferent kinds exported to France in 1855 :—
St Louis.
Articles.
Hides 
Arachis & other
nuts 
Pure gum 
Palm oil 
Dye Woods 
Cwt.
3,069
80,298
44,237
205
7,074
11,247
122,616
126,094
Gobee.
Articles.
Hides   
Yellow & brown wax...
Ivory 
Arachis and other nuts..
Caoutchouc and Gut- )
ta percha J
Cwt.
4,130
2,151
22
83,192
1,181
The value of the whole exports from St Louis was
L.283,972; and from Goree, L.297,638. The trade seems
to be gradually but steadily passing from St Louis to
Goree. The population of the settlements in 1855 was as
follows:—
VOL. xx.
Inhabitants.
St Louis   9,223
Gtiet-N’dar  1,796
Forts on the Senegal, viz :—Bakel.Senoudebou, I
Dagana, Richard Toll, Merinaghem, and l 4,818
Lampsar   )
Goree (1856)    2,633
Senegam.
bia.
Total     18,470
SENEGAMBIA, a country of western Africa, com¬
prising, as its name implies, the regions watered by the
Senegal and the Gambia. It lies between N. Lat. 10. and
17., W. Long. 8. and 17. 30.; bounded on the N. by the
Sahara, E. by the Soodan or Nigritia; S. by Sierra-Leone,
and W. by the Atlantic; area, about 381,500 square miles.
Except a short distance on the southern side, the country Boundaries
is entirely encircled with natural limits. On the W. lies and coast,
the ocean; on the N. the course of the Senegal forms a
clear line of demarcation between the Sahara and Sene¬
gambia ; on the E. and S.E., the mountains which divide
the Senegal and Gambia from the valley of the Niger
separate it from Soodan ; and there is only an arbitrary
line from the source of the Rio-Grande to Cape Verga,
which forms the southern limit of Senegambia, and the
northern of Sierra-Leone. The coast line extends from
the mouth of the Senegal to Cape Roxo nearly due S.,
with the exception of the peninsula of Cape Verd, which
stretches to the W., forming the extreme point of Africa in
that direction. At Cape Roxo the direction of the coast
changes to S.E., which continues till beyond the limits of
Senegambia. Beside those already mentioned, the only
considerable promontory along the shore is Cape St Marie,
forming the S. side of the estuary of the Gambia. There
are no arms of the sea running into the land, nor any in¬
dentations, except the mouths of the Senegal, Gambia, Rio-
Grande, and Nunez. The only islands along the coast are
those of Senegal, Goree, and the numerous group of the
Bissao Islands. The coast of the northern part of Sene¬
gambia resembles very much that of the Sahara, of which
it is a continuation. It is almost entirely low, barren, and
monotonous, bordered with ridges of sandy dunes, and
only interrupted in a few places by rocky cliffs and plateaus.
Towards the S. of the country the appearance of the coast
is somewhat different, on account of the many small rivers
which enter the sea, forming islands and deltas ; and bring¬
ing down a quantity of rich alluvial soil, on which a luxu¬
riant vegetation flourishes; baobabs, mangroves, and palms
growing close to the edges of the rivers and the ocean.
From the coast there stretches inland a vast level ex- Surface,
panse, occupying more than the half of Senegambia. This mountains,
plain is about 150 miles at the S., and widens towards the anii rivers.
N. to a breadth of 200 miles. East of this lies a moun¬
tainous region, w*hich occupies all the rest of the country.
Though not very lofty, these mountains are extensive and
intricate, sending off many branches and offshoots from the
principal mass. To the E. they descend steeply to the
valley of the Niger; towards the south they stretch con¬
tinuously into Sierra-Leone and the interior of Guinea;
towards the W. they descend by a series of terraces to the
plain of Senegambia; and towards the N. they extend
across the Senegal for a short distance into the Sahara. In
this mountainous region there are many plateaus and valleys
stretching generally from S. to N., through which the rivers
of the country take their course. No accurate measure¬
ments have been taken of any of the summits in Sene¬
gambia, but the N.E. portion, which is the loftiest, as well
as the wildest, most impervious, and inhospitable, is not
probably more than 6000 feet above the sea; while the
general elevation of the table-land varies from 1200 to
1500 feet. The declivity towards the W. is steepest near
the S. of the country, where the summit of Mount Sangari,
not far removed from the plain, attains an elevation of be-
G
50 SENEGAMBIA.
Senegam- tween 5000 and 6000 feet. The plateau of Senegambia is
bm. }n respects analogous to that of Abyssinia, near the
v'—opposite extremity of Africa. Tliese two regions resemble
each other in the character of their mountains, the terraces
by which they descend to the low ground, and the nature
and productions of the soil; and they seem like two bastions
at the extremities of the long level tract of Soodan. The
chief rivers of Senegambia are the Senegal, Gambia, Rio-
Grande, and Nunez; all of which rise among the moun¬
tains, and fall into the Atlantic.
Geology The geological structure of the country has not yet been
and soil, thoroughly investigated, especially towards the interior.
The flat region along the coast is very uniform in its cha¬
racter. It consists of masses of sand and clay, along with
a loose red soil, containing in some places numerous sea-
mussels. In some places, as at Cape Verd and Cape Roxo,
masses of sandstone occur; those at the latter place, by
their red colour, have given the name to the promontory.
Clay-slate is also met with ; and here and there these Nep¬
tunian formations are interrupted by basaltic, amygdaloid,
and volcanic rocks. Thus the island of Goree consists of
basalt; the Bissao Islands, of scoriae and other volcanic
substances; and a large part of the coast north of the
Nunez, of basalt and amygdaloid. The foundation of the
mountains consists in some places of clay-slate, but more
commonly of granite, porphyry, syenite, and trachyte. Mica
slate and ironstone are also found in these regions. Excel¬
lent iron, as well as considerable quantities of gold, are ob¬
tained among the mountains. Many of the valleys in this
region have a fertile soil, and so has the land along the
banks of the Gambia and along the shore to the S. of that
river; but in the rest of Senegambia the soil is of great
sterility.
Climate. The climate is one of the hottest on the surface of the
earth, and the sun’s heat is so intense as to be dreaded
even by the natives. On the Senegal, where for eight
months in the year hot dry winds blow from the E. over
the whole length of the burning soil of the Sahara, the
thermometer at 6 o’clock a.m. stands at 82° or 84°; and at
mid-day even in the shade rises above 89°. In the valley of
the Gambia, too, the heat is exceedingly oppressive, at some
places in May the thermometer stands the whole day at
104°. Even in the hilly country, as high degrees of tem¬
perature are not seldom experienced. The atmosphere, on
the whole, is extremely unhealthy, especially for Europeans;
some districts, and some times of the year, are more favour¬
able than others, but these are merely degrees of insalu¬
brity. There are two seasons, a dry and a rainy one. In
the former, which lasts from November to June, the air is
clear; and the lakes and standing water are dried up. The
rainy season is introduced by tremendous thunderstorms;
the rivers overflow the flat land, and form extensive
marshes ; the wind generally blows from the W. or N.W.;
and all kinds of vegetation spring up with the utmost lux¬
uriance. This season is the more unhealthy, and during its
continuance a dangerous marsh fever prevails.
Vegetables. The vegetable productions of Senegambia resemble
those of the other parts, especially the tropical parts of
West Africa, and are not very remarkable for the variety
of their forms. For a considerable distance from the sea¬
shore the vegetation, except along the banks of the rivers,
consists entirely of long grasses, which grow up during the
wet season, and when dried up are burned by the natives,
so as to leave the ground entirely bare, with only here and
there a few mimosa groves. On the ground inundated by
the rivers, however, there grow mangroves, acacias,
mimosas, oil-palms, and the gigantic baobab, or monkey
bread-tree, which, though not very high, has sometimes a
circumference of 77 feet. The whole flora of the mari¬
time plain of Senegambia has a considerable resemblance
to that of the E. coast of Africa, especially of Abyssinia.
The productions of the interior are not so well known as Senegam-
those of the coast. Dense forests begin near the foot of bia.
the mountains, and clothe their acclivities up to a certain
height. Above this limit grow the ceiba-palm, and the
shea or butter-tree, which furnishes here, as in the neigh¬
bouring countries, an important article of food. The ex¬
tent of cultivation throughout the country depends much
more on the degree of civilization of the people than on
the capabilities of the soil. In some places, especially near
the villages of the Mandingos, there are tracts of land very
well cultivated; in others, very little attention is paid to
agriculture. Besides rice, maize, and other grains, cotton,
indigo, tobacco, sugar-canes, manioc, yams, pistachio and
arachis nuts are raised.
The animals of Senegambia also resemble, to a consider- Animals,
able extent, those of Eastern Africa. It abounds especially
in monkeys and elephants. Large herds of the latter
range the forests on the Senegal. Beasts of prey of va¬
rious kinds, especially lions, panthers, and hyaenas are also
found; as well as antelopes, buffaloes, boars, and hippo¬
potamuses. Fish and alligators abound in the rivers; and
turtles and oysters on the sea-coast. Of domestic animals,
there are horses, small, but swift and spirited ; asses ; horned
cattle ; sheep; and goats ; besides a number of camels in
the regions near the Sahara.
Senegambia is, on the whole, well peopled, especially in inhabitants
the mountainous region; for the plains for the most part
admit only of a migratory population. The inhabitants
are divided into a great number of small tribes, differing
in many cases very remarkably in their physical appear¬
ance, language, and character. With reference to these
characteristics, the multitude of small states may be re¬
duced to a few great groups; the most important of which
are these three—the Jolofs, Mandingos, and Foolahs. The
Jolofs once formed a powerful kingdom in the plain be¬
tween the Senegal and the Gambia, and they still occupy
that country, though they are divided into a number of
petty states. Their bodies are strong and well propor¬
tioned ; and their features regular and handsome, approach¬
ing those of Europeans. Their hair, however, is crisp and
woolly; and their colour is the deepest black of any race,
resembling polished ebony. They speak a language that
agrees with that of the Kaffres in some peculiarities hardly
found in any other tongue. In character, they are energetic
and warlike. The Mandingos originally came from the
mountainous district of Mantling, in the extreme S.E. of Se¬
negambia, where they are still settled ; but they have spread
by conquest and migration down the southern terraces of
the mountains to the coast near the mouth of the Gambia.
Their features have more of the negro cast, but their
complexion is a shade lighter than that of the Jolofs. They
are very industrious, especially the Mohammedan branches
of the people, and exhibit a good deal of intelligence. The
Mandingos are supposed to be the most numerous of all
the races that inhabit Senegambia. The Foolahs originally
occupied the small country called Foolah-du in the N.E.,
of Senegambia, but from that region they have spread
themselves far and wide in all directions. Within Sene¬
gambia they have occupied the kingdom of Timbo in the
S.E., and that of Foota-Toro in the low land, on the Sene¬
gal ; and in Soodan, under the name of Fellatas, they have
acquired extensive dominions. Their features and com¬
plexion approach very closely to the European type; their
hair is long and silky; and in intellectual and moral cha¬
racter they are much superior to the other African races.
They are divided into various nations of different degrees
of civilization. There are various other tribes in Sene¬
gambia of less size and importance; such are the Serra-
colets, who carry on the trade with the French along the
Senegal; the Sereres, near Cape Verd; the Jolas in the
south ; and many others.
SEN
Saneschal The religion of the Senegambians is partly heathenism
|| and partly Mohammedanism. Christianity has made pro-
Senna. gress among the natives only at a few places along the
coast. Heathenism appears under the form of fetish wor-
Religion ship, but is not accompanied here with such bloody rites
and go- as ave common in many parts of Guinea. Mohamme-
vernment. has ma(]e progress chiefly among the Mandingo and
Foolah tribes; much less among the Jolofs, and hardly at
all in the smaller nations. For a series of years it has
made great advances in Senegambia, through the zeal of the
marabouts or priests, and the erection of schools for teaching
the Koran. The natives who have embraced the religion
of Mahomet are favourably distinguished above the heathen
tribes for industry, intelligence, hospitality, and clemency.
The form of government varies considerably in the differ¬
ent states of the country. Among the Foolahs it is gene¬
rally a despotic monarchy, the sovereign being at the same
time the chief priest of the community ; while in the other
states the monarch is generally limited in power by the
nobles or chieftains; and in some the government ap¬
proaches the aristocratic, or even the democratic form.
Among many of the tribes which are less civilized hardly
any bond of union subsists beyond what is necessary for
self-defence.
Divisions. The names of the principal states of Senegambia are as
follows:—Belonging to the Jolofs—Wallo, at the mouth of
the Senegal; south of it, Cayor; further south, Baol; still
further, Sin ; and Jolof, east of the last two. Belonging to
the Mandingos—Bambuk, between the Senegal and Ba-
Faleme ; E)entilia, between the latter and the Gambia;
Tenda, to the west of the foregoing, along the Gambia;
Wulli, north-west of Tenda; Yani, further west, on the
north of the Gambia; Salum, still further west; and Barra,
between Sin and the Gambia. Besides these, which all
lie contiguous to each other, there are two isolated Man-
dingo states—Manding in the extreme east, and Kaarta
north of the Senegal. Belonging to the Foolahs—Foota-
Toro, south of the Senegal, near its mouth ; Bondu, south
of that; Kasson, north of the Senegal; Ludamar, still fur¬
ther north ; Foolahdu between the upper branches of that
river; and Foota-Jallon, south of the Mandingo tribes.
Other native tribes—Galam or Kajaaga, Jallon-Kadu, the
country of the Felups, of the Papels, &c. The European
settlements in Senegambia belong to the British, the French,
and the Portuguese. The British settlements are in the
middle of the coast, about the Gambia (see Gambia) ; the
French north of them, chiefly on the Senegal (see Senegal);
and the Portuguese south of the British, comprising the
Bissao Islands, and some stations near the Rio-Grande.
Some commerce is carried on between Senegambia and
the countries of Soodan. Salt, slaves, and gold are the
principal articles of merchandise. The total population of
the country is estimated at nine millions.
SENESCHAL (Seneschallus), derived from the Ger¬
man sein, “ a house or place,” and scale, “ an officer,” is a
steward, and signifies one who has the dispensing of justice,
as the high seneschal or steward of England ; seneschal de
la hotel de roi, “steward of the king’s household” (Co.
Lit. 61 ; Croke’s Jurisd. 102 ; Kitch. 83).
SENLIS, a town of France, capital of an arrondissement
in the department of Oise, on the slope of a hill, 29 miles
S.E. of Beauvais. It consists of an old town and three
suburbs; and has narrow, crooked streets, lined with well-built
houses. There are here an old castle, a small but stately
cathedral, chiefly of the twelfth century, and some churches
now used for other purposes. The manufactories consist
of cotton mills, tanneries, printing-houses, &c. Many traces
of Roman structures have been found here. Pop. (1856)
5172.
SENNA, the leaves of several species of Cassia, as
acutifolia, lanceolata, elongata, and obovata, is a useful
SEN 51
purgative, and was imported from Egypt, the British East Sennaar.
Indies, the Hanse Towns, and elsewhere, in 1857, to the /
amount of 219,191 lb., at a total value of L.4730.
SENNAAR, a country of Eastern Africa, formerly an
independent kingdom, but now a part of the Ottoman em¬
pire, belonging to the province generally known to Euro¬
peans under the name of Nubia, called by the Turks the
pashalic of Sennaar, and by the Egyptians, Beled-es-Soodan,
or the Land of the Blacks. Its limits are not very accu¬
rately defined; but it extends along the banks of the
White and Blue Nile as far north as the confluence of
these two rivers at Khartoom, and is bounded on the north
by Dar Shendy, E. and S.E. by Abyssinia, S. by the
country of the Nuba mountaineers, and W. by Kordofan.
It lies between 12. and 15. 45. N. Lat.; has a length of
about 260 miles, a breadth of nearly the same; and an
area estimated at 60,000 square miles. The greater part
of the country lies between the White (Bahr-el-Abiad)
and the Blue Nile (Bahr-el-Azrek), but some part of it
also lies to the east of the latter, between it and the
Atbara, the largest of the affluents of the Nile. The sur¬
face consists of an almost unbroken plain, extending from
the Atbara across the Blue and the White Nile to the
borders of Kordofan. Its general elevation is from 1400
to above 1500 feet above the level of the sea; Khartoom
being 1431, and Sennaar 1515 feet high. The country
has thus a slight slope towards the north. Its uniformity
of surface is only interrupted by a few isolated mountains,
rising from 800 to 900 feet above the surrounding country.
Such are Jebel, Szegeti, and Moje, to the west of the town
of Sennaar, and Mandera to the east of the same place;
which rise like rocky islands in the midst of the sea-like
expanse of the country. The southern limit of the plain
of Sennaar occurs about the latitude of Seru, on the Blue
Nile, about 50 miles in a direct line above Sennaar. Be¬
yond this rise the mountains in the districts of Roserres
and Fassokl, which are offshoots of those of Abyssinia to
tbe east. The chief summits are Fassokl (2659 feet),
Kassan (3024 feet), and Akaro (3094 feet). Notwith¬
standing the level character of the land through which
they flow, both the streams of the Nile have here a con¬
siderable fall; that of the Blue River from Roserres to
Sennaar being 0‘14 feet per mile, from Sennaar to Wood
Medineh, 0-33 feet, and from Wood Medineh to Khar¬
toom 0’53 feet; while that of the White Nile is still greater,
being 0'87 feet between Eleis and Khartoom. The uni¬
form character of the plain of Sennaar must be ascribed
in a great degree to its geological formation. It con¬
sists, like the land of Egypt, almost entirely of regular
horizontal strata of sandstone. The mountains, how¬
ever, are of a totally different structure. They consist
exclusively of crystalline rocks, mingled with grauwacke,
clay-slate, and limestone. Most of the isolated hills in
Sennaar are composed of granite; those in the districts of
Roserres and Fassokl, on the other hand, consist of chlo¬
rite-slate, with veins of auriferous quartz; and the most of
the mountains between the Blue Nile and its affluent the
Tumat, of gneiss. Besides gold, iron is found among these
mountains, and also in the desert between Sennaar and
Kordofan. Salt is obtained at Khartoom, and along the
White Nile; and the granite of Mount Szegeti is very
excellent, being superior to that of Syene. With these
exceptions there are no important minerals in the country.
The soil is very fertile, especially in the region east of the
Blue Nile. Along the banks of both branches of the river
extend dense forests, especially of doom and date palms,
baobab trees, and, in the upper parts of the river, of tama¬
rinds. The flats between the two rivers are generally bare
and parched during the dry season. After the rains they
are either changed into vast grassy savannahs ; or else ac¬
quire the character of muddy tracts, on which the natives
52 SEN
Sennertus. sow the dhurra seed. This grows up in a few months, and
gives the country the aspect of one great corn-field; it is
then cut down, and the ground reassumes its sterile ap¬
pearance. This primitive mode of husbandry is the most
common in Sennaar ; but there are also other crops raised,
such as wheat, sugar-canes in a few places, cotton, to¬
bacco, and, of late years, indigo. The climate is exces¬
sively hot; the mean annual temperature being from 80°
to 82°. In spring the temperature at noon is frequently
above 100°, and in summer it attains a still greater height.
This excessive heat produces opposite effects on the country,
according to the nature of the soil; in some parts parching
it up into an arid desert, and in others fostering a most
luxuriant vegetation. The seasons are two in number, and
very well defined, a dry and a rainy one. The latter lasts
for four or five months in the summer, and is ushered in
by tremendous hurricanes ; the former continues for the
rest of the year. The first indications of the annual inun¬
dation of the Nile take place in May ; during June it is
steadily rising ; and attains its greatest height in September.
The hilly parts of the country enjoy a salubrious atmo¬
sphere ; but in the low, flat regions the climate is very un¬
healthy. Among the wild animals of Sennaar may be
numbered the elephant, the rhinoceros, and the hippopo¬
tamus. In the dense forests many species of monkeys are
found, beasts of prey, such as lions, leopards, hyaenas, and
wild-cats are numerous, as well as thousands of antelopes
in the savannahs of the Blue Nile; giraffes, buffaloes, and
goats are also found. Crocodiles abound in the rivers,
and many kinds of serpents infest the country. Among
birds the most important is the ostrich, which inhabits the
desert between Sennaar and Kordofan, and whose feathers
are an important article of commerce. Of domesticated
animals, horses are more numerous here than in the lower
valley of the Nile, while the large herds of camels and
horned cattle, and the flocks of sheep, form the chief wealth
of the wandering tribes in the uncultivated regions. The
origin of the people of Sennaar is involved in much ob¬
scurity and doubt. Their bodies are well built, and their
colour is a dark copper brown. They have long and curly,
but not woolly hair ; and their features are quite different
from those of the negro. There are many different classes
of people, somewhat differing in their characteristics from
each other; some more nearly approaching to the Arab,
and some to the negro type. The prevailing religion in
Sennaar, as in the whole of Nubia, is the Mohammedan,
except in the extreme south-east, where there are many
Christians and heathens of Abyssinian origin. The king¬
dom of Sennaar was founded in the beginning of the six¬
teenth century, by a tribe of Shilluk negroes, who invaded
and conquered the country; and called themselves by the
name of Fungi or conquerors. For a long period this
kingdom remained independent, under its own melik or
king, until, in 1820, Mohammed Ali, pasha of Egypt, de¬
termined to reduce under his sway Sennaar and the ad¬
jacent countries, and undertook an expedition for that pur¬
pose. The result was the conquest of the country and its
annexation to the Ottoman empire. The population of the
province is estimated at a million and a half. The chief
town is Sennaar, formerly the capital and residence of the
monarch. It stands on the left bank of the Blue Nile,
1150 miles south of Cairo. It has extensive suburbs, about
3^ miles in circuit. The town is ill built, consisting prin¬
cipally of low houses; and it contains several mosques and
a ruined palace. There is some trade in basket-work, arms,
and silver articles. The population has dwindled from up¬
wards of 12,000 to 7000.
SENNERTUS, Daniel, called by some the German
Galen, was an eminent physician, and was born at Breslau
in 1572. In 1593 he was sent to Wiirtemberg, where
he made great progress in philosophy and in physic. He
SEP
visited the universities of Leipsic, Jena, Frankfort-on-the- Sens
Oder, and Berlin; but he soon returned to Wiirtemberg, 11
where he was promoted to the degree of doctor of physic, Septuagint.
and soon afterwards to a professorship in the same faculty.
He was the first who introduced the study of chemistry
into that university, and he gained a great reputation by
his works and practice. He died of the plague at Wiir-
temberg in 1637. He sought to reconcile the doctrines of
Paracelsus with those of Galen, and seems, in all respects,
to have been in advance of his age. He thought the seed
of all living creatures animated, and that the soul of this
seed produced organization. He was accused of impiety
for asserting that the souls of beasts are not material, for
this was affirmed to be the same thing with asserting that
they are immortal; but he rejected this consequence, as
well he might. The writings of Sennertus, a number of
which were translated into English, were published in folio
at Venice in 1645, and subsequently at Lyon and at Paris.
SENS, a town of France, capital of an arrondissement
in the department of Yonne, near the right bank of the
Yonne, 70 miles S.E. of Paris. It is partially encircled by
old walls, and entered by nine gates, three of which are of
mediaeval origin. Though a small town, it is neat and
well built, with broad straight streets, which are kept clean
by small brooks of water from the Vanne, an affluent of
the Yonne. The principal building is the cathedral, a
vei'y magnificent specimen of the early Gothic style, re¬
markable for its tracery and painted glass. It contains the
canonical vestments of Thomas a Becket, probably genuine,
as he fled hither from the anger of Henry II. The town
has also an ecclesiastical seminary, hospital, theatre, public
baths, and promenades. There are a large public library,
a college with a museum, and courts of law. Leather,
cotton, yarn, straw-hats, woollen fabrics, hardware, candles,
tiles, earthenware, &c., are manufactured here; and there
is a considerable trade in corn, flour, wine, wool, hemp,
timber, and manufactured articles. Sens occupies the site
of the ancient Agendicum, and derived its modern name
from the Senones, in whose territory it stood. Under the
Romans it was the chief town of Lugdumensis Quarta, and
the meeting-place of several roads. Some sculptured stones,
of Roman workmanship, have been built into the walls of
the town. Pop. (1856) 9869.
SENSATIONALISM, or Sensualism, is a term em¬
ployed to designate those systems of philosophy w hich either
directly or indirectly deduce all our knowledge from sensa¬
tion, or from the experience which sense affords. Such,
for example, are the sensational philosophers of the eight¬
eenth century.
SEPOURY, or Siprt, a town and fortress of Hindus¬
tan, province of Agra and district of Gohud, taken by
the British in 1781. It is 18 miles S.W. of Narwa.
SEPOYS. See Hindustan.
SEPTEMBER, the ninth month of the year, consisting
of thirty days. It took its name as being the seventh month
from March, with which the Romans began their year.
Since 1752 our legal year has commenced in January.
SEPTUAGESIMA, in the calender, denotes the third
Sunday before Lent, or before Quadragesima Sunday. It
is supposed by some to take its name from its being about
seventy days before Easter.
SEPTUAGINT, a Greek version of the Old Testa¬
ment, which received this name either from the supposition
that it was the work of LXX. or LXXII. translators, or
more probably because it received the sanction of the
Jewish Sanhedrim, which consisted of that number of
members. If the latter reason be correct, the title is ex¬
actly equivalent to our Bishop’s Bible, so called because
it was a translation recommended by the authority of the
English bishops.
Archbishop Usher places the date of this version b.c.
S E P T U
Septuagint. 277, following the story of its origin, which was so long
current under the name of Aristeas, who professes to have
been an officer of Ptolemy’s guard at the time when the
transaction took place. The story is as follows. Ptolemy
Philadelphus having heard of the Jewish law from Deme¬
trius Phaleteus, to whom he had entrusted the care of his
Alexandrian library, ordered that a copy of it should be
sent for, and that it should be rendered into Greek by
properly qualified interpreters from Jerusalem. Aristeas
and two other nobles took this ofyjortunity to urge on the
king the liberation of the Jews who had been taken captive
by Ptolemy Soter, saying that unless this was done, obstacles
would be put in the way of his wish. Accordingly, at the
enormous expense of 660 talents, he procured the freedom
of 198,000 Jewish captives, and then, by the advice of
Demetrius, wrote to the high-priest Eleazer asking for a
Hebrew copy of the law, and seventy-two translators (six
out of each tribe), competent to render it into Greek.
Aristeas was one of the bearers of this letter and of the splen¬
did gifts which accompanied it, and he returned to Egypt
with the translators, and a copy of the law written in golden
letters. On their arrival at court, the translators having
proved their wisdom by impromptu answers to the seventy-
two questions put to them, were conducted to the Pharos,
and there by common conference completed their task
in seventy-two days, whereupon the king dismissed them
home with regal munificence.
Besides Aristeas, the Septuagint is mentioned by Aristo-
bulus1 (an Alexandrian Jew who wished to prove the foolish
surmise that the Greeks had plagiarized their philosophy
from Scripture); by Philo,2 and by Josephus.3 Philo adds
the further particulars, that each translator rendered the
whole book ; that they were found at the conclusion to have
agreed verbally with each other by the miraculous aid vouch¬
safed to them; and that a solemn anniversary was kept in
honour of the occasion. Justin Martyr, following common
rumour, still farther improves the story, and believed that he
had actually seen the ruins of the seventy cells in which the
distinct versions were miraculously made; and thus in one
form or other this marvellous fiction received full credence
among the ancient fathers—e.g., Irenaeus, Clemens Alex-
andrinus, Hilary, Augustine, and Cyril of Jerusalem.
Epiphanius also repeats the story with variations and addi¬
tions ; and it was believed for centuries with the most un¬
questioning confidence. The obvious inference was, that
the LXX. version, with all its errors and imperfections,
must be regarded as inspired.
But it has now been demonstrated that the book of
Aristeas is an idle forgery, a mere religious romance, writ¬
ten by a Hellenistic Jew to magnify his nation, and to
exalt the credit of this Greek version. His whole narra¬
tive bears the stamp of Jewish exaggeration and self-com¬
placency. The author, professing to be a heathen, uses
throughout language which could only have emanated from
a Jew. The questions he puts in the mouth of Ptolemy
are absurdly incongruous; the sum which he makes him
disburse in accomplishing his wish (amounting to some
2.000,0004 sterling) in utterly incredible; the distinction of
the twelve tribes is an historical improbability, and several
of the other particulars alluded to by him are confusions,
anachronisms, or Pharisaical inventions. In fact, it is now
admitted that the pseudo-Aristeas furnishes ample mate¬
rials for the refutation of his own fiction, and since the
learned work of Dr Hody, De JBibliorum Textibus ori-
ginalibus, we are not aware that any one has attempted to
defend the genuineness of his treatise.
But the question remains, is there a single germ of truth
amid this mass of fable ? It is indeed difficult to arrive at
A G I N T. 53
any certainty, but internal evidence supplies us with some Septuagint.
strong probabilities. For instance it is clear,
1. That the version was the work of Alexandrian and
not of Palestinian Jews. This appears at once from the free¬
dom with which the Hebrew text is treated, since the Jews
of Palestine would have been far more likely to adhere
scrupulously to the most literal methods of rendering; a
tendency which subsequently gave rise to the version of
Aquila, which was called by them the Hebraica veritas.
The language in which the LXX. is written is that Hel¬
lenistic Greek, that koivt) SiciAcktos which became so general
after the time of Alexander the Great, and there are a num¬
ber of expressions which could only have been used by a
native of Alexandria. Thus, to take a few of the instances
adduced by Hody,5 the word shekel is in the pentateuch
rendered by StSpa^os; epha by vOi<pi, which, it appears
from Phavorinus, was an Egyptian measure; Zaphnath-
Paaneah, the Hebrew name of Joseph, is turned into its
Egyptian equivalent ; in Amos v. 26 the Egyp¬
tian Pecjiav is substituted for the Hebrew Ciun; and in Job
viii. 11“ reed” is rendered by “ papyrus.” m still more curi¬
ous and decisive instance of this is the fact, that Thummim,
the jewelled ornament of the high-priest’s robe, is trans¬
lated AXrjdeia or “ truth,” though the Hebrew word means
“ perfection;” we should be at a loss to account for this
but for the information found in yElian,6 that the senior
priest of the Egyptian hierarchy wore round his neck, while
performing his judicial functions, an ornament of sapphires
called by this very name “ Truth.” Besides all this, the
translators, in the Apocryphal additions to the book of
Esther, makes express mention of Ptolemy Philometor and
Cleopatra ; and when we add, that the universal tradition of
the Jews themselves agrees in the main with these infer¬
ences (although Aristeas says that the translators came
from Palestine), we may regard the Alexandrian origin of
the version as sufficiently established.
But did the impulse which originated it come from within
or from without? Alexander had transplanted a vast mul¬
titude of Jews to his new city, and had there given many
privileges. Finding Alexandria a desirable place of resi¬
dence, and being forced to speak the Greek language,
which was at that time the common medium of communi¬
cation, they gradually forgot the Chaldee, as, during the
Babylonish captivity, they had forgotten the Hebrew. The
Chaldee interpretation of the Scriptures used in their syna¬
gogues was, therefore, as obsolete to them as the original
tongue, and they would doubtless feel the want of religious
teaching in a language which they could comprehend. A
literary motive may well have been combined with this
religious motive, and it is by no means impossible that the
general desire on the subject may have owed its first ac¬
complishment to the additional influence of a king of Egypt,
who wished so curious a record as the Pentateuch to be
treasured up in the Alexandrian Library. In favour of this
supposition is the annual festival, at which, according to
Philo, the event is commemorated. The pseudo-Aristeas
attributes the design to Ptolemy Philadelphus, and he has
been generally followed; but the common Jewish account
referred it to his father Ptolemy Lagus, and Hody recon¬
ciles the discrepancy by supposing the work to have been
commenced during the years b.c. 286-285, when father
and son were associated on the throne. Ptolemy Lagus,
although kind to the Jews, was yet unpopular among them,
because he had carried so many of them into captivity ;
and this may account for the omission of his name in the
fable of Aristeas. It is probable that the Pentateuch alone
was first translated, both from the distinct assertions by
ancient writers to this effect, and from internal evidence;
3 Quoted by Euseb., Prcep. Evang. vii. 13 ; Clem. Alex., Strom, i., &c. 2 De Vit. Mo«. ii. B Aut. xii. 2.
I’rideaux, Connect, ii. 39. 6 De Bibliorum Text. pp. 112-120. 6 Spencer, De Urim et Thummim, iv. 12.
I
SEPTUAGINT.
54
Septuagint. but in any case the manuscript, if procured for the Alex-
andrian Library, remained totally unknown, since nothing
is more certain than the complete ignorance respecting
Jewish history and institutions displayed not only by earlier
authors, but even by the polished writers ol the Roman
empire.
2. The reasonings by which Hody and others attempt to
arrive at a conclusion respecting the date of other portions
of the Septuagint are very uncertain. For instance, it is
argued from the use of the word yato-os in Joshua (viii. 18),
that this book could not have been rendered until the em¬
ployment oil’ Gallic mercenaries by the Egyptian kings, i. e.,
some twenty years after the death of Ptolemy Lagus, be¬
cause yaicrds means a peculiar kind of Gallic javelin.1 But
this argument is of very slender authority, nor can we
deduce any strong inference from the mention of Ptolemy
Philometor in the epilogue to Esther. It is, however, most
probable, from a passage in the book2 * of the son of Sirach,
that the whole had been completed before b.c. 130, in the
reign of PtolemwPhyscon.
3. It is quite certain that it was made at different times
and by different persons, although it is impossible to decide
the exact number of translators employed on it. The
common story speaks of 72 ; Epiphanius, of 36 ; the Jerusa¬
lem Talmud, of 5 ; and some of the Rabbis, of 3. Perhaps
the real number was about 12 or 15. The different trans¬
lators have adopted very different methods of rendering
the same word, and even different modes of spelling the
same common names; sometimes these names are made
indeclinable, and sometimes a Greek termination is given
to them. The rendering of Hebrew names for animals,
trees, precious stones, weights and measures, are not
only various but even irreconcileable. Thus, *T?)3, “ a
lion,” is in Job iv. 10 rendered by Spdxcoj/; “ an oryx,”
is in Is. li. 20 represented by o-evrAiW, a vegetable; and
not to give any further specimens, “a whale,” is
rendered Kip-os, Gen. i. 21 ; “a dragon,” Ps. Ixxiv. 16, &c.;
“ a siren,” Job. xx. 39 ; “asparrow,” Jer. x. 22 ; “a hedge¬
hog,” Is. xvi. 22 ; “a bird,” Is. xxxv. 7; “a fig,” Neh.
ii. 13; and “affliction,” Ps. xliii. 19! These instances are
the first that came to hand out of ten pages1 of similar ones
in Hody’s learned work; and some of these which he ad¬
duces prove that even the Pentateuch was not the work of
a single hand. The Pentateuch is the part which was
earliest and best executed; and of the books which it con¬
tains, Leviticus is translated best,-' and Numbers worst.
The historical books are only tolerably rendered; the book
of Proverbs admirably; the Prophets (especially Isaiah)
indifferently. The vision of Daniel was so incomplete and
erroneous, that Theodotion’s version was substituted for it;
it wa» long lost, and a manuscript of it was only redis¬
covered in 1772 in the Codex Chisiamis at Rome. The
translator of Job was a man of fine taste, profoundly read
in the Greek poets, but -a poor Hebrew scholar; this has
led him into the awkward habit of omitting the passages
which he did not understand.
From some curious agreements of the LXX. with the
Samaritan Pentateuch, in some 2000 places, Hassencamp,
and others have supposed that the translators made use of
a Samaritan manuscript. But although there are those
remarkable agreements, and although it has been thought
that some variations in the LXX. may be accounted for by
different readings, originating in the shape of the Sama¬
ritan letters, yet the numerous disagreements of the two
tend to show that the points in which both differ from the
Masorethic text are accounted for by tbe operation in both
of false4 principles of criticism ; as, for instance, the desire Septuagint.
to remove objections, to reconcile discrepancies, &c. And
in some of these cases, where both have made an attempt
of this kind (e.g., Gen. v. 3-28 ; Ex. xii. 40), the method of
the Samaritan is so much the more ingenious, that it is
impossible to suppose that the Greek would not have
adopted it had he been aware of it. There is, therefore,
no necessity to assume great interpolation, numerous
glosses, wilful corruptions, or any other of the numerous
hypotheses which have b^en suggested to account for the
numerous passages in which the Samaritan and the Greek
agree, while both differ from the Hebrew. It is utterly
incredible that Jews would ever have persuaded themselves
to translate from a Samaritan text; and Abul Phatach’s
rival story of the origin of the Greek version of the Sama¬
ritan Pentateuch (which, according to him, was greatly
preferred by Ptolemy Philadelphus), at least proves how
unlikely it would have been for the Jews to use any other
than the Masorethic text.
The importance of the Septuagint for all purposes of
biblical criticism can hardly be overrated; and the in¬
fluence which has been exercised by it for centuries renders
the study of it imperative on every theologian. The fabu¬
lous accounts of its origin show the extravagant reputa¬
tion in which it was held. Josephus used it in general;
Philo, being ignorant of Hebrew, used it exclusively, and
believed in its inspiration. Even in the Targums there are
traces of a similar belief. Undertaken as it was without
any suspicion of the controversies to which the interpreta¬
tion of prophecy would subsequently give rise, and exe¬
cuted by men for the most part candid, zealous, and com¬
petent, it forms an invaluable commentary on the Hebrew
text, and an historical specimen of the early method of
exegesis. By rendering the Bible accessible to the learned
of every country, it was an effectual safeguard against wil¬
ful interpolation, “so as to preclude all suspicion that it
could be materially altered either by Jews or Christians, to
support their respective opinions as to the person and cha¬
racter of the Messiah; the substance of the text being by
this translation fixed and authenticated at least 270 years
before the appearance of our5 Lord.” It was the version
from which our blessed Saviour, in all probability, was taught
to read when a child at Nazareth,—the version which he
loved to quote, if not to the Pharisees and doctors of the
law, at least to the common people, who heard him gladly,
—the version which formed the text-book of apostolic
teaching; from which all the ancient versions, except the
Syriac, were made; which constituted the sole Scriptures
of the Old Testament for the first four centuries; from
which Augustine drew his meditations and Chrysostom his
homilies. “ The entire phraseology of the New Testament
is formed on the peculiar style of the LXX,”6 and any one
who will consult Mr Grinfield’s Scholia Hellenictica, may
see at a glance that there is scarcely a page of the Gospels
or Epistles which does not bear ample testimony to the
fact, that the minds of the sacred writers were imbued with
the style and language of this Greek version. It is well
known that this Hellenistic Greek differs widely from the
classical standard ; and although it is a common error to
attribute to Bentley the assertion that the dialect would
have been altogether unintelligible to Demosthenes, yet
certainly a Greek of the age of Pericles would have found
it marvellously obscure. Hence the expressions of the
LXX. are the ultimate source of our theological language,
and “ the Hebraic or Hellenistic Greek is the sacred idiom.”
To it we owe such words as the aydirr], dyLoavvr], irvea/xa,
SiKatwcns, tuxotpicrmv—the very keywords of the Christian
1 Schieusner’s Thesaurus, s. v.; Bochart, Hieroz., I., lib. ii., p. 137, &c. 2 Prol. of Ecclus. 3 Be Bibl. Text. 204-216.
4 See an able paper in Kitto’s Jour, of Sac. Lit., vol. ii., and Herzog’s Cycloped., art. “ Alexandr. Bibeliibersetzung.”
6 Graves, On the Pentateuch, III. v. 2. 6 Grinfield’s Apology for the LXX., p. 1.
SEPTUAGINT.
55
Septuagint. religion. “ There are many words,” says Bishop Pearson,
“ which, from the mere usage of the Greek tongue, cannot
be understood; which by collation with the Hebrews and
the LXX. become easily intelligible. No one knows what
(rdp£, what TTv^vpa signify among the Greek authors ; and if
you collect all the senses in which the Greeks use these
words, you will find none that reach the apostle’s mean¬
ing.”1 2 Thus, the dissemination of the LXX. paved the
way for Christianity, and prepared the minds ol men for the
advent of an expected Saviour.
Direct quotations from the LXX. abound in the New
Testament. In St Stephen’s speech alone there are no
less than twenty-eight, and the language of the Epistle to
the Hebrews is “ a kind of Mosaic, composed of bits and
fragments of the LXX.” Our Lord quoted it repeatedly.
Out of the thirty-seven quotations made by him from the
Old Testament, thirty-three are said to agree with the
Greek* almost verbatim. It is certainly a striking and
most important fact, that the apostles quote it and argue
from it even where it differs from the Hebrew ; “ et quidem
iis in locis,” says Dr Mill on Heb. xiii. 25,in quibus, si
reponerentur Hebrea, non modo periret vis argumenta-
tionis Apostolicae, sed ne quidem ullus foret argumenta-
tioni locus.” Instances of this may be found by the stu¬
dent in Luke iii. 37, Matt. xv. 8, 9, Acts ii. 25, Rom.
x. 18, Heb. i. 7, ii. 7, x. 5, &c.
On these grounds it has been repeatedly argued, that, in
order to maintain the doctrine of verbal or plenary inspi¬
ration, it is absolutely necessary to adopt the belief of the
early Christian world as to the inspiration of the Greek
translators. We have already seen that such a supposition
prevailed among the Jews; it was the express belief of
Irenaeus, Clemens Alexandrinus, Hilary, and many of the
fathers; it was strongly and frequently asserted by Augus¬
tine, and even his stout opponent St Jerome, whose study
of the original Hebrew had given him a less favourable
opinion, occasionally recurs to the old prejudice, and speaks
of the Alexandrian interpreters as actuated by the extraor¬
dinary influences of the Holy Spirit. Even in modern
times so strange an hallucination has not been totally dis¬
pelled ; and Mr Grinfield’s Apology supports the divine
authority of the version with an earnestness and ingenuity
which is deserving of a better cause.
For whatever inferences may be drawn from the fact,
the dignity of truth demands the statement that the Sep-
tuagint abounds in errors, transpositions, interpolations,
omissions, and defects of every kind, which abundantly
prove that the translators were extremely fallible. Some¬
times they show an imperfect acquaintance with Hebrew,
sometimes with Greek, and sometimes they have made
mistakes which can be attributed to carelessness alone.
Nor are these variations due solely to defective knowledge ;
it is tolerably clear that they sometimes arise from a dis¬
tinct purpose. Even the version of the Pentateuch is not
free from this literary dishonesty. “ It is obvious,” 3 says
an able writer, “ that the translator of Exodus had a
plan which he strictly followed ; and for the maintenance
of his design he sacrificed the original text. Sometimes it
was for a philosophical, sometimes for a political reason, at
another time for the sake of saving the reputation for
humanity of the Jewish legislator. Often he altogether
neglected to translate words from which it might have ap¬
peared that the ordinances of the Jewish law were unneces¬
sarily severe.” Thus, in Ex. xiii. 13, he wilfully changes
“thou shalt break his neck,” into “ thou shalt ransom it;”
a rendering which is in direct contradiction to Lev. xxvii.
11. In Ex. xxiv. 10, 11, “they saw the God of heaven”
is, from the Alexandrian pseudo-philosophical avoidance ofSeptuagint.
anthropomorphism, absurdly rendered, “ they saw the place
where the God of Israel stood.” In Ex. xv. 3, “ the Lord
is a man of war,” is, for a similar reason, changed into “ the
Lord brings wars to nought;” and the same influence is at
work in verse 10. Ex. xxxii. 9 is altogether omitted by
this translator as unfavourable to the Jews; and he has
given us a further indication of his political bias by the
remarkable way in which he has softened the harsh ex¬
pression of Ex. xxxii. 22. These instances, though taken
from a single book, are chosen from a portion confessedly
the best executed of the whole, and are no unfair specimens
of the want of due regard to the text which sometimes
misled them, even when their knowledge was not at fault.
They are surely amply sufficient to prove, that to attribute
inspiration to these Hellenists, is nothing else than an
apotheosis of partial incompetence and positive mistake.
In fact, the Septuagint translation must rather be regarded
in the light of a paraphrase executed from the critical
and religious4 standpoint of Alexandrian Jews some two
centuries before Christ. This will account for more inac¬
curacies and arbitrary alterations than any other principle ;
although besides this, it is possible that their manuscripts
were often corrupt, and certain that they were without
vowel points, final letters, or any of the other aids afforded
by the later method of writing Hebrew. Nor must we over¬
look the enormous difficulty which had to be overcome in
creating a style which should give in Greek a tolerable
expression of Hebraic idioms and modes of thought.
The Jews first began to dislike and reject the Septua¬
gint, when they found that its renderings were peculiarly
valuable for the purposes of Christian controversy. They
therefore adopted in lieu of it the version of Aquila, the
chief merit of which is its slavish literalism. There seems,
however, to be no adaquate proof that they instituted a
stated fast on the 8th of Tebet, to execrateihe anniversary
of its completion, as we have no authority for this statement
earlier than Justin Martyr.5 Since the Septuagint had long
been used in almost al their synagogues, this condemnation
of it came a little too late in the day; and the Christians, who
had no means of consulting the original, prized the transla¬
tion with an extravagant veneration, and accepted it as an
inspired production, and even preferred it to the Hebrew
text. Jerome’s profound learning led him to see that such
views were untenable, and in forming the design of making
a fresh translation from the Hebrew, he pointed out the
necessity for doing so by showing the errors of the LXX.
This proposal alarmed St Augustine as much as the sug¬
gestion of a revision of our English version alarms the more
timid divines of the present day; and when Jerome was
driven by the Bishop’s opposition into further arguments,
he finally forbade the use of Jerome’s translation within
his diocese. Ruffinus was even more violent and unrea¬
sonable in his attacks on the proposed innovation; and, on
the whole, the Septuagint maintained its high authority
until the conclusion of the eighteenth century, when it
began to be rated at its true value, as a version which can¬
not be regarded as possessing any cfeims to equal autho¬
rity with the Hebrew text, although it is exceedingly im¬
portant for all the purposes of Scriptural interpretation.
When the Greek text began to accumulate a vast number
of glosses, interpolations, marginal readings, alterations, and
mistakes, Origen Undertook his stupendous work, the
Hexapla, in order to compare it with the Hebrew, and re¬
store it, if possible, to its primitive condition. This noble
undertaking, which might well entitle its author to the sur¬
name of “Adamantine,” occupied (according to Epiphanius)
1 Bp. Pearson’s Prefatio Parcenetica.
2 Grinfield, p. 185. Tables of quotations may be found in Horne, vol. ii., ch. iv., and Davidson’s Introduction, ch. xxviii.
3 Journal of Sac. Lit., vol. viL 4 Pritsche in Herzog, ubi mpra.
6 Basnage, Hist, des Juifs (see Jahn’s Hcbr. Commonuealth, Engl, ed., p. 255).
56 SEP
Sepulchre no less than twenty-eight years; but, in spite of its value,
11 unfortunatelyincreased the evil which it was intended tocure,
epu ve a. sjnce subsequent copyists often confounded and mixed to-
” v ^ gether the various other texts which Origen had printed
in parallel columns, side by side with the version of the
LXX.1
The four chief editions of the LXX. are the Compluten-
sian, the Aldine, the Sixtine, and the Grabian, which mainly
follows the Codex Alexandrinus. A thorough revision of
the text, and a good concordance, are still wanted: the
lexicons of Biel and Schleusner are full of valuable infor¬
mation, but are still capable of very great improvement.
A vast number of books have been written on the Sep-
tuagint, and it only remains to enumerate the most im¬
portant. Popular accounts may be found in Kitto’s Cy¬
clopedia, in Dr Davidson’s Bibl. Introduction, in Horne’s
Introduction, vol. ii., and in Herzog’s Cyclopedia, of which
there is an English translation by Dr Bonberger. The
classical book on the story of Aristeas is Hodius De Bibl.
Text, oriyinalibus, Oxon. 1705; and it is also examined in
Gregory’s History of the LXX., Lond. 1664, and Van.
Dale’s Dissert, super Aristed, &c., Amst. 1705. An ac¬
count of the disputes of Jerome and Augustin may be found
in Du Pin’s lives of these fathers. For further information
see Pearson’s Prefatio Parenetica ; Walton’s Prolegomena,
c. ix.; Grabe’s Prolegomena; Valcknaer, De Aristobulo Ju¬
dea ; Thiersch, De Pentat. Versione ; Toepler, De Pent.
Jut. Indole; Studer, De Vers. Alex. Origine, &c. Im¬
portant German books are, Dahne’s Judisch-Alexandr.
Philosophic, Halle, 1834, and Frankel’s Vorstudien, Leip¬
zig, 1841. The study of the LXX. is at present attracting
much attention in England; and we have recently had
valuable contributions to the literature of this subject by
Mr Grinfield, Dean Howard, and Prof. Selwyn. (f. w. f.)
SEPULCHRE, Regular Canons of St, a religious
order, formerly instituted at Jerusalem in honour of the
holy sepulchre, or the tomb of Jesus Christ. Many of these
canons were brought from the Holy Land into Europe,
particularly into France, by Louis tne Younger; into Po¬
land, by Jaxa, a Polish gentleman ; into Flanders, by the
counts of that country; and many also came into England.
This order was, however, suppressed by Pope Innocent
VIII., who gave its revenues and effects to that of the Lady
of Bethlehem; and this also becoming extinct, they were
bestowed on the knights of St John of Jerusalem. These
canons follow the rule of St Augustin.
Sepulchre, Knights of the Holy, a military order, estab¬
lished in Palestine about the year 1114. Those of this
class chose Philip II., king of Spain, for their master, in
1558, and afterwards his son ; but the grand-master of the
order of Malta prevailed on him to resign ; and when after¬
wards the Duke de Nevers assumed the same quality in
France, the same grand-master, by his interest and credit,
procured a like renunciation by him, and a confirmation of
the union of this order to that of Malta.
SEPULVEDA, Juan Ginez de, a learned Spanish
chronicler, was born at Pozoblanco, near Cordova, in 1490.
He was educated fiHt at Cordova, and afterwards at the
university of Alcala. Leaving the university in 1515, he
set out for Italy, where he studied under the celebrated
Pomponazzi, of Bologna. Having written the life of his
patron, Cardinal Albornoz, he subsequently went to Rome
and Naples, where he assisted Cardinal Caetano in revising
the Greek text of the New Testament. He returned to
Rome in 1529, and was appointed some years later chaplain
and historiographer to Charles V. Leaving Italy, he now
returned to his native country, and was induced to attack
the celebrated bishop, Las Casas, who was then engaged
in pleading the cause of the suffering Indians. But the
S E R
royal council refused their imprimatur, and the world was Sequani
deprived of this courtly book. Sepulveda wrote an Apo- ||
logia in 1550; but this was unfortunately seized by order ®erarnPore*
of the emperor. This learned Spaniard died in 1574.
Sepulveda seems to have been a man of considerable literary
merit; and Erasmus, who was no mean judge, pronounces
him one of the best writers of his nation. Besides a num¬
ber of works, which still lie in manuscript, his published
writings were re-edited in 1780, in 4 vols. folio, by the
Royal Academy of History of Madrid. This edition con¬
tained a sketch of the life and writings of the author.
SEQUANI, a Celtic nation of ancient Gaul, occupying
part of the upper valley of the Saone or Arar, separated on
the E. by the Jura range from the Helvetii; on the W. by
the Arar from the Aedui, having the Leuci and the Lin-
gone on theN., and the Allobroges and Ambarrion the S.
They thus occupied the northern departments of Ain, Jura,
and Doubs, with parts of those of Saone-et-Loire and Cote
d’Or. Besides the Arar, the country was watered by the
Dubis (Doubs), on which stood their chief town Vesontio,
now Besan^on. They fed large numbers of hogs, and ex¬
ported ham and bacon to Rome. Before the conquest of
Gaul by Caesar, the Arverni and Aedui, the two most
powerful nations of that country, were in a state of hostility ;
and the Sequani allied themselves with the former. In
order more effectually to crush their enemies, these two na¬
tions hired a large body of Germans, under Ariovistus, from
over the Rhine. With their assistance they totally defeated
the Aedui; but the Germans seized for themselves a third
part of the territory of the Sequani; and would have made
further encroachments, had not Caesar defeated them, and
expelled them from the land. Though driven across the
Rhine at that time, the Germans seem to have returned at
a subsequent period.
SEQUESTRATION, in common law, is setting aside
the thing in controversy from the possession of both the
parties that contend for it. In this sense it is either volun¬
tary, as when done by the consent of the parties ; or neces¬
sary, as where it is done by the judge, of his own authority,
whether the parties are inclined or the reverse. (See
Bankruptcy.)
SEQUIN, or Zecchino, a gold coin of Venice, value
about 9s. 6^d.
SERAGLIO (Persian seraw, or Turkish serai, both
of which signify a house), is commonly used to express
the house or palace of a prince. In this sense it is fre¬
quently used at Constantinople, where the houses of
foreign ambassadors are called seraglios. But it is com¬
monly employed by way of eminence for the palace of the
grand signior of Constantinople, where he keeps his court,
where his concubines are lodged (properly called hareem),
and where the youth are trained up for the chief posts of
the empire.
SERAING, a town of Belgium, on the right bank of the
Meuse, in the province and 3 miles S. W. of Liege. It is
chiefly remarkable for its immense iron-works, among which
is probably the most extensive manufactory of machinery
in the world. It occupies the former palace of the bishops
of Liege, which has thus lost all its palatial and ecclesias¬
tical aspect. Seraing has also iron-furnaces, forges, and coal¬
mines, employing from 3000 to 4000 hands, and a large
number of steam-engines. Pop. 4857.
SERAMPORE, a town of British India, in the presi¬
dency of Bengal, and district of Hoogly, on the right bank
of the Hoogly, 18 miles N. of Calcutta. It is a neat, clean,
well-built place, somewhat like a European town. The
principal building is the court-house, which was the govern¬
ment-house while the Danes possessed the town; and the
chief manufacture carried on here is that of paper, which is
1 For accounts of this great work see Fritsche in Herzog’s Cyclopcedia, “ Ahexandr. Bibeliiber.,” &c.
S E R
of £ood quality. Seratnpore belonged to Denmark till
1845, when it was purchased by the British, as it had
proved very inconvenient by affording a refuge to swind¬
lers and insolvent debtors from Calcutta. The place
attracted more attention than it would otherwise have
obtained, as being the seat of the first mission-station from
Europe in India. It was founded by Wiliam Carey to¬
wards the close of the last century, and has since been re¬
moved to Calcutta. Pop. of the town and suburbs, 13,000.
SERAPIS. See Mythology.
SERES, a town of European Turkey, Macedonia, in the
eyalet and 35 miles N.E. of Salonica, on the Strymon, in
a plain rich in cotton and rice, and studded with numerous
villages. It is well built and clean, with fine palaces,
mosques, and gardens, large bazaars, and public gardens.
Cotton-spinning is actively carried on here ; and there is an
extensive trade in corn, tobacco, and cotton. Seres is one
of the most important commercial towns in Turkey. Pod
30,000. 1
SERGEANT, or Serjeant-at-Layv, or of the Coif, is
the highest degree taken at the common law, as that of
doctor is of the civil law ; and as these are supposed to be
the most learned and experienced in the practice of the
courts, there is one court appointed specially for them to
plead in, namely, the Common Pleas, where the common
law of England is most strictly observed. But they are not
restricted from pleading in any other court, where the judges,
who cannot have that honour till they have taken the de¬
gree of sergeant-at-law, call them brothers.
Sergeant-at-Arms, or Mace, an officer appointed to
attend the person of the king, to arrest traitors, and such
persons of quality as offend, and to attend the lord high-
steward when sitting in judgment on a traitor. There are
fom othei sergeants-at-arms, created in the same manner;
one, who attends the lord-chancellor; a second, the lord-
treasurer ; a third, the speaker of the House of Commons ;
and a foui th, the lord mayor of London on solemn occa¬
sions.
Common Sergeant, an officer in the city of London, who
attends the lord mayor and court of aldermen on court days,
and is in council with them on all occasions, within and
w ithout the precincts or liberties of the city.
Sergeant, in war, is a non-commissioned officer in a
company of foot or troop of dragoons, armed with an hal¬
bert, and appointed to see discipline observed, to teach the
soldiers the exercise of arms, and to improve their disci¬
pline. He receives the orders from the adjutant, which he
communicates to his officers. Each company has generally
two sergeants.
SERGEL, Johann Tobias von, an eminent Swedish
sculptor, was born at Stockholm on the 8th of September
1740. He was at first apprenticed to a stone-mason, and
was engaged in that capacity at the royal palace of Stock-
holm, where he had the good fortune to draw upon him¬
self the notice of the sculptor L’Archeveque, who at once
took him as a pupil. After assisting his master for some
years he obtained, in 1767, a travelling pension, when he
went to Rome, and remained there for twelve years.
During his stay in Italy he executed numerous works of
gieat merit; and, on his visiting Paris, his “Othryades,”
or the figure of a wounded Greek soldier, now placed in
t ie Luxembourg, gained him admission to the Academy of
the bine Arts. He had just reached London when he re¬
ceived an offer from Gustavus III. of Sweden of the office
o court sculptor. He lost no time in reaching Stockholm,
and m 1784 accompanied his majesty to Rome, and in¬
duced him to purchase the celebrated “Endymion” for the
royal museum of Stockholm. Catherine II. of Russia was
anxious to secure the services of Sergei, and made him very
nattering offers to go and reside at St Petersburg. But the
sculptor was too much attached to his master to think of
VOL. xx.
S E R
leaving him; and when, in a few years, the untimely end
of Gustavus cast a gloom over all the court, it plunged
Sergei in so deep a melancholy that he is reported never to
iave recovered. He died in his native city on the 26th of
February 1814, in his seventy-fourth year.
Sergei’s works are all marked by great vigour of concep¬
tion, by simplicity, and grace of style, and by an entire free¬
dom from the mannerism which tainted the most graceful
productions of the chisels of his cotemporaries. His best
statues are h,s “ Karl III.,” “Juno,” “ Cupid and Venus,”
Djomedes carrying off the Palladium,” “ Othrvades,” “ a
„ Gustavus HI., “Oxenstierna,” “Mars and Venus,”
enus Calhpyge.” He executed a number of ex-
andoS0me fine busts and portrait medallions.
nrnv- CP or ,SfRGIPE DEE Rey, the smallest of the
provinces of Brazil, bounded on the N. by that of Alagoas,
L/h f Vf S-„and W' W "’e province of fiShia,
5 ,]“, I -CCM f' Lau 9- ls- an[i U. 27., W. Long. 36. 20.
no m l 5' l Area,’ 11,079 s<l'lare miles- !' extends for
0 miles along the coast, and nearly 140 inland. The
coast line is in general low and sandy, and the surface of
he country 1S level except where it is broken by a few
S. I hese occur chiefly in the western part of the pro¬
vince, and are generally covered with forests. The largest
river is the Sao h rancisco, which flows eastwards into the Al¬
an tic, forming the northern boundary of the province. The
Itapicuru forms the southern boundary, flowing in the same
direction ; and the country is also watered by the Vaza-
barns and Sergipe, which also fall into the Atlantic. Rock-
crystal limestone, and saltpetre are the principal minerals
..0U" .I1.ere’ -1 be soil on the whole is not remarkable for
“S fertility; for although the eastern portion produces rice,
co ton, sugar-canes, tobacco, flax, and other crops in abun¬
dance, the western part of the province is of a very sterile
and unproductive nature, being in many places stony, and
throughout ill supplied with water. The rivers and "lakes,
of which there are several in the N.W., abound in fish,
and the latter also m wild-fowl. Cattle, mules, and horses
are reared in considerable numbers. The forests furnish
valuable timber and dyeworks. Among the exports of the
province the most important are cotton, sugar, brandv, to¬
bacco, and cattle. The mouths of the rivers form many
harbours along the coast, but they are in general small and
shallow. Sergipe is divided into five comarcas and seven-
teen districts. It returns two senators and four deputies to
the Brazilian legislature. The capital is Sargipe or Sao
Chnstovao, a town of 3000 inhabitants, on the Atlantic
coast. Pop. (1856) 183,600.
SERICA, the name given by the ancients to a tract of
Eastern Asia, lying, according to Ptolemy, east of Scythia
extra Imaum, north of India, and west of the land of the
Sinae. It probably occupied the country now called Mon¬
golia, and the western part of China. The people were called
Seres, and were chiefly known to the Greek and Roman
nations on account of the silk which they produced, and in
which they carried on a lucrative trade, "indeed, so closely
were they connected with this branch of trade that the
classical name for a silkworm was ser, and for silk-cloth
senca vestis. Some have supposed that the name of the
insect was transferred to the people ; but this is not so pro¬
bable as the converse, for there are many instances of
articles of commerce deriving their names from the places
whence they come. According to the ancient accounts,
the Seres were a mild and gentle people, avoiding as much
as possible (like the Chinese of the present day), all inter¬
course with other nations. They were probably of the
Mongolian race.
SERIES. See Algebra and Fluxions.
SERINAGUR. See Sireenuggur.
gl^t?^NGAPA TAM {Shri Ranga Patanam, the city of
bhn Ranga or Vishnu), a town of India, in the Rajah of
57
Sergipe
Seringapa-
tam.
58
S E R
S E R
Serino Mysore’s dominions, 9 miles N.E. of Mysore, and 248 west
|] of Madras, on the west end of an island in the Cauvery,
Seron. ]s^ Lat ^ 25., E. Long. 76. 45. It is now a dull, de-
""v ^ J serted town, the mere ghost of its former magnificence,
when it was the capital of Mysore and residence of 1 ippoo
Sultan, with a population, it is said, of no less that 300,000.
The fortifications, which are very strong, though not skil¬
fully constructed, form an irregular pentagon, protected on
two sides, the N. and S.W., by the river, and extending a
mile and a half in length, from N.W. to S.E., by half that
breadth. The strongest parts of the defences were towards
the east and south, the safety of the other sides having been
too much trusted to the Cauvery, though that river is ford¬
able in the dry season. It was from this side that the town
was stormed by the British in 1799, in preference to making
a breach in the massive walls on the land side. The grass
and trees now grow luxuriantly about the place where the
deadly conflict took place, and where Tippoo himself fell.
The principal buildings within the fortifications are the
large, straggling, mean-looking palace, now in a state of
decay; the Hindoo temple of Vishnu, and the sultan's
mosque, containing the tombs of the nobles who fell in his
cause, and commanding a fine view from its minarets.
Seringapatam is said to have been founded in 1454 by a
devotee of Vishnu. Its early history is involved in ob¬
scurity; but in 1610 it was possessed by Raj Wadegar, a
Mysore chief. In 1697 it was besieged, but ineffectually,
by the Mahrattas ; and again, in 1772, after it had been for
seven years occupied by Hyder Ali as his capital, these for¬
midable assailants were bought oft' by a sum of L.150,000.
Tippoo Sultan, the son and successor of Hyder Ali, also
resided in Seringapatam, and erected the formidable de¬
fences of the town. On the 5th of April 1799 it was in¬
vested by the British, and on the 4th of May taken by
storm. The town and fort were retained for some time as
a military station, but afterwards abandoned on account of
their insalubrity. The population in 1800 was 31,895 ; at
present it is only 12,744.
SERINO, a town of the kingdom of Naples, province of
Principato Ultra, on the Sabbato, 6 miles S.S.E. of Avel-
lino. It consists of several adjacent villages, containing
churches, convents, an hospital, and manufactures of hard¬
ware. Pop. 8000.
SERMIDE, a town of Austrian Italy, in the province
and 27 miles S.E. of Mantua, on the right bank of the Po.
It contains churches, public offices, and a court of law.
Weaving and dyeing are carried on here. Pop. 5594.
SEROHEE, a town of India, capital of a state of the
same name, in Rajpootana, 67 miles N.E. of Nusseerabad.
It covers a large extent of ground, and contains many good
brick-houses; but much of the town is uninhabited. The
chief building is the palace of the rao or chief, which stands
on a small hill, but is of no great beauty. Serohee has be¬
come, since it was taken under the British protection, a
place of much commerce and wealth ; and it is especially
celebrated for the manufacture of sword-blades. The state
of Serohee is bounded on the W. and N. by that of Joud-
pore, E. by Godwar and Oodeypore, and S. by the Gui-
cowar’s dominions. It has an area of 3024 square miles.
The eastern and south-eastern parts are mountainous ; the
country has a general slope towards the N.W., and is
watered chiefly by affluents of the Loni, which flows in that
direction into the Gulf of Cutch. Mount Aboo, in this
country, reaches the elevation 'of 5000 feet above the sea.
There are many ruins, and other traces of the former civi¬
lization and prosperity of the country. Serohee was for¬
merly joined to Joudpore; but is now independent,'and
since 1823 has been protected by the British.
SERON, a town of Spain, Andalusia, in the province
and 28 miles N. of Almenia, on the right bank of the
Almanzor. The principal buildings are a church, several
hermitages, a court-house, and prison ; and the manufac- Serpa
tures of die town comprise linen, blankets, and earthenware. ||
There are also oil and flour mills. The surrounding region Serranu
is rich in iron, lead, and copper; and there were formerly
many smelting places for these metals, but only two are
now used. Nitre and white marble are also obtained in the
vicinity. Pop. 5619.
SERPA, a town of Portugal, in the province of Alem-
tejo, on a height near the Guadiana, 17 miles E.S.E. of
Beja. It is pretty well built, walled, and entered by five
gates. There are here two churches, a castle, schools,
and hospitals. Some contraband trade is carried on with
Spain. Pop. 5600.
SERPENT, a powerful bass musical instrument of the
wind kind, invented by a French priest at Auxerre in 1590.
See the article Music.
SERPENTINE Verses begin and end with the same
word; as, “ Ambo florentes aetatibus, Arcades ambo.”
SERPENTS. See Reptilia.
SERPUCHOV, a town of European Russia, in the
government and 56 miles S.S.W. of Moscow, at the point
where the Nara and Serpeika fall into the Oka. It has a
citadel, which stands on an eminence, and is surrounded by
high wralls now falling into decay. There are in the town
a cathedral and numerous other churches, various public
edifices, schools, and charitable institutions. Sailcloth,
leather, paper, and tiles are made here; weaving is also
carried on; and there is a considerable trade in corn, tim¬
ber, cattle, tallow, hemp, &c. The town is very ancient,
having been in existence as early as 1328. Pop. (1850)
12,196.
SERRA CAPRIOLA, a town of the kingdom of
Naples, province of Capitanata, on a hill looking down upon
the Fortore, 13 miles N.W. of San Severe. It is a small
place, with several churches, convents, an hospital, &c.
Near it are ruins, supposed to be those of the ancient
Teate. Pop. 4000.
SERRANUS, Joannes, or Jean de Sevres, a learned
French Protestant, was born about 1540 at Villeneuve-
de-Berg. He acquired the Greek and Latin languages at
Lausanne, and devoted himself to the study of the philo¬
sophy of Aristotle and of Plato. On his return to France
he studied divinity, and in 1574 he began to distinguish
himself by his writings, but was obliged to forsake his
country after the dreadful massacre of St Bartholomew.
He became minister of Nismes in 1582, but was never re¬
garded as a very zealous Calvinist. He has even been sus¬
pected, though without reason, of having actually abjured
the Protestant religion. He was one of the four clergymen
whom Henry IV. consulted about the Catholic religion, and
who returned for answer, “ that Catholics might be saved.”
He wrote afterwards a treatise in order to reconcile the two
communions, entitled De Fide Catholico, sive de Principiis
Religionis Christiance, communi omnium Christianorum
consensu, semper et ubique ratis, 1607. This work was
disliked by the Catholics, and received with such indigna¬
tion by the Calvinists of Geneva that many writers have
affirmed that they poisoned the author. It is certain at
least that he died at Geneva in 1598. His principal works
are—A Latin translation of Plato, published by Henry
Stephens; A treatise on the Immortality of the Sold; De
Statu Religionis et Republicce in Francia ; Memoire de la
Troisieme Guerre Civile et derniers Troubles de France
sous Charles IX., &c.; Inventaire General de V Histoire
de France, illusive par le Conference de VEglise et de
VEmpire; Recueil des Choses Manorables avenues en
France sous Henry II., Frangois II., Charles IX., Henri
III. These three historical treatises have been justly
accused of partiality and passion ; faults which it is next to
impossible tor a contemporary writer to avoid, especially if
he bore any part in the transactions which he describes.
SEE,
Serravalle His style is incorrect and inelegant; and he has been ac-
II cused by his enemies of making numerous mistakes and
Sertorius^ mis.staternents of facts.
SERRAVALLE, a town of Austrian Italy, Venice, in
a mountain valley on the Maschio, 24 miles N. of Treviso.
It has a large market-place, a cathedral, and other churches,
convents, schools, and an hospital. Woollen and silk stuffs,
as well as paper, are made here; and there is a consider¬
able trade in corn, wine, and honey. Pop. 5131.
SERTORIUS, Quintus, a clever Roman adventurer,
was born of respectable parents at the Sabine village of
Nursia, late in the second century before Christ. He gave
early marks of being a ready speaker and skilful manoeu-
verer, who, to great personal strength, added a stubborn
endurance of fatigue. He commenced his military career
in Gaul, where, in the bloody battle fought on the Rhone,
B.c. 105, he was wounded, and saved his life by swimming
across the river, clad in complete armour. Sertorius con¬
tinued to distinguish himself, now by entering the Teuton
camp at Aix as a spy, again by massacring the inhabitants
of the town of Castulo in Spain, and anon, after repeated
provocation, by spearing 4000 of those slaves whom Marius
kept about him as a body guard. In 83 B.c. he was raised
from the office of quaestor to that of praetor. After trying,
ineffectually, to check the progress of Sulla on his return
from the conquest of Mithridates, Sertorius was advised
to betake himself to Further Spain, where he could admi¬
nister the affairs of that province in comparative peace.
With a handful of men, and very little means, he made his
way to Spain, where he set about raising an army of Roman
settlers and Spaniards, and equipping a fleet. While thus
engaged, Luscus was despatched by Sulla to oppose the
progress of Sertorius. The agile adventurer immediately
put to sea, but was attacked by an overwhelming number
of Mauritanians, and compelled to scud for the Pityussae
Islands, where he was joined by some Cilician rovers, who
aided him in extinguisliing the Roman garrison. Attacked
by the fleet of Luscus, and his light ships being harassed
by stormy weather, he was forced to land at the mouth of
the Guadalquiver, after a wild passage through the Straits
of Gibraltar. Having met some seamen who had just ar¬
rived, it was said, from the Insulce Fortunatce, Sertorius is
reported to have contemplated setting out for those “ Happy
Isles,” where he might spend the rest of his days far away
from the strife of men. Ambition, as it generally does,
urged him on to his end. He now turned on his former
opponents, the Mauritanians, and took their king, in the
city of Tingis, or Tangier. Fie afterwards went to aid the
Libyans against the Romans. While in Africa he was
presented with a fawn, which in time became so tame as
to accompany its master wherever he went. The influence
of this creature on the superstitious inhabitants of his camp
is reported to have been very great. This “ fawn of Ser¬
torius” has become famous in literary as well as in political
history. Corneille made it the subject of a tragedy, and
R. H. E. Landor, in modern times, has cl)psen it as the
subject of a tale. Sertorius had now to face the Roman
forces under Metellus and Pompeius. To recount the
endless manoeuvres and skirmishes of his guerilla war¬
fare, how suddenly he swept down upon the foe, like a
beast of prey, at dusk; how nimbly he withdrew his hand¬
ful of men as the sleepy foe roused themselves to the full
danger of their situation ; how quickly he would cross the
sierras of Spain with his little band, as if their course was
aided by the upper denizens of the air, would be much
more than we here have space for, and it must accordingly
' be sought out in Plutarch’s life of Sertorius. In these
raids there was often much bloodshed, and Sertorius gene¬
rally came off with the victory. Some say this active
adventurer in time became lazy, and indulged himself with
women and wine. It is very certain that his cruelty and
s E R 59
suspicion became greater, and not altogether without cause. Servan
He had taken Spaniards for his guard, in distrust of his ||
own countrymen. These Iberians were by no means satis- ®ervetus.
fied with the humble rank assigned to them. Yet they were
Romans who conspired against him. Invited to a banquet
by his own generals, he was suddenly stabbed by Marius
Antonius, b.c. 72. Thus ended the war of Sertorius, and
Spain now passed into the peaceful possession of Rome.
1 he curious will find considerable resemblance between
the exploits of this ill-fated Roman adventurer and an
English nobleman, Mordaunt, Earl of Peterborough, who
achieved such astonishing deeds of arms in the Spanish
peninsula during the reign of Queen Anne.
SERVAN, St, a town of F ranee, in the department of
Ille-et-\ ilaine, on the south side of the harbour of St
Malo, at the mouth of the Ranee, in the English Channel.
It is a suburb of St Malo, and a favourite watering-place.
I he most remarkable building is an isolated tower, now
used as a prison. I his edifice stands on a rock, between
the two harbours, and is approached by a drawbridge. One
of the harbours is suitable for large, the other for small
vessels. Shipbuilding is carried on here ; many of the in¬
habitants are employed in cod-fishing; and there is a con¬
siderable trade in beer, wine, brandy, ship-biscuits, cordage,
&c. Pop. 10,257.
SERVANDONI, Giovanni Geronimo, a celebrated
architect, was born at Florence in 1695. He rendered
himself famous by his exquisite taste in architecture, and by
his genius for decorations, fetes.and embellishments. Hewas
employed and rewarded by most of the princes in Europe.
In Portugal he was honoured with the order of Christ. In
F ranee he was architect and painter to the king, and mem¬
ber of the different academies established for the advance¬
ment of these arts. He received the same titles from the
kings of Britain, Spain, Poland, and from the Duke of
Wirtemberg. Notwithstanding these advantages, his want
of economy was so great that he left nothing behind
him. He died at Paris in 1766. Paris is indebted to
him for many of its ornaments. He made decorations
for the theatres of London and Dresden. Fie was per¬
mitted to exhibit shows, consisting of ornamental decora¬
tions. Some of these were exceedingly grand ; his “ Descent
of iEneas into Hell” in particular, and his “Enchanted
Forest,” are well known. He built and embellished a
theatre at Chamber for Marshal Saxe, and furnished the
plan and model of the theatre-royal at Dresden. He was
employed frequently by the king of Portugal, to whom he
presented several elegant plans and models. The Prince
of Wales, too, the father of George III., engaged him in
his service; but the death of that prince prevented the
execution of the designs which had been projected. He
presided at the magnificent fete given at Vienna on account
of the marriage of the Archduke Joseph and the Infanta
of Parma.
SERVANT. See Master and Servant.
SERVETUS, or Serveto, alias Reves, Michael, a
learned Spanish physician, and a renowned heretic, was
born at Villanova, in Aragon, in 1509. His father, who
exercised the profession of a notary, early designed him
for the church, but subsequently perceiving in him a de¬
cided taste for theological speculation, and an open hosti¬
lity to scholasticism, he deemed it more prudent to educate
him for the law. In 1528 he went to the University of
Toulouse, where he formed a connection with some inquir¬
ing youths who had become interested in the Lutheran in¬
novations. On his leaving Toulouse in 1530, he found
himself an ardent reformer, and set out for Italy and Ger¬
many to publish his new doctrines. Taking up his resid¬
ence at Bale, near Gicolampadius, he was at first well re¬
ceived by that reformer. Servetus, however, in his youth¬
ful zeal, had driven his speculations much too far for the
60
Servetus.
SERVETUS.
purposes of the Reformation, and CEcolampadius, on^ be¬
coming aware of his views regarding the doctiine of the
Trinity, is said at once to have withdrawn his fi iendship
from him. A like reception awaited him at Strasbourg
from Bucer and Capito. Hope was high, and intellectual
strength was uncjuestionable in Servetus; he accordingly
resolved to publish a book regarding the Trinity, which
appeared at Haguenau in 1531, under the title of De Tnni~
tatis Erroribus, Libri vii. This was followed up by an¬
other publication next year, entitled, Dialogorum de Trini-
tate, Libri duo, and with an appendix, consisting of De
Justicia Regni Christi, capitula quatuor, Per Michaelem
Serveto, alias Rtves, ab Aragonia Hispanum, 1532, in
which he came forward with those theories which were
subsequently more fully developed in succeeding publica¬
tions. These feelers which Servetus had cast out brought
in rather alarming intelligence, which prompted him at
once to change his place of residence, his profession, and
his name. He accordingly packed up for France in 1533,
under the title of Villanovanus, and settled in Paris, where
he studied medicine with brilliant success. Having gra¬
duated in medicine, he wrote a learned book, entitled,
Ratio Syruporum, which he gave to the world under the
authorship of Michael Villanovanus. Servetus could not be
at peace. His ever active intellect, and his restless desire
for controversy, got him into endless difficulties. Having
quarrelled with the physicians of Paris, he wrote an Apolo¬
gia, which was suppressed by order of parliament, and Ser¬
vetus, judging discretion to be the better part of valour be¬
took himself to Lyons in 1535. Here he engaged with an
eminent printing firm of the day to correct the press, and
during his residence here he published, with characteristic
notes, a good edition of Ptolemy’s Geography. The me¬
dical hostility which his presence had engendered in the
capital having now died out, he set out for Paris in 1537,
where he taught geography, mathematics, and even astro¬
logy, with success. The last branch of knowledge not
being quite to the taste of the doctors of the Sorbonne,
drew down upon the head of Servetus another sentence of
the parliament. The ubiquitous Spaniard forsook the capi¬
tal for ever, and took up his residence at Charlieu, near
Lyons, where he began practice as a physician. In 1540,
solicited by the invitations of the Roman Catholic Arch¬
bishop, Pierre Paumier, whom he had formerly met in
Paris, he was induced to exchange his residence for Vienne,
in Dauphine. Here he was diligent in the pursuit of his
profession of a physician, and filled up his leisure hours with
literary work for the booksellers of Lyons. It was during
this time he published his edition of the Bible in Latin,
with a preface and notes.
Theology, which he had ostensibly exchanged for medi¬
cine, was nevertheless his darling study. He allowed few
days of his life to pass by without seeing a new theological
speculation raised or completed. His mind had now be¬
come mature, and his circumstances were prosperous; why
should not he endeavour to urge on the Reformation of
Christianity which had already been begun, but which had
not, in his estimation, gone anything like so far as truth
would warrant ? Why should not he make himself a name
that would be remembered as well as Luther and Calvin,
when he should- no longer be known ? Why, in short,
should not he give publicity to those opinions which he
knew only too well how to maintain, and which few men
could surpass him in ingeniously, and even sophistical!y,
defending? Some, or all of these motives, doubtless actu¬
ated the subtle and ambitious heretic, and he resolved now
to put himself in communication with the great Genevan
divine, and see what would come out of it. Some say he
had known Calvin in Paris, but it is most probable his
knowledge of him was merely epistolary. After the ex¬
change of some preliminary courtesies, Servetus asked
Calvin’s judgment of a portion of his future volume Chris- Servetas.
tianismi Restitutio. The Reformer combated very sharply
this portion of his lucubrations, and Servetus replied with
all the cool bitterness of a thorough-paced controversialist
This was what Calvin was not prepared for, and possibly
his temper had become more than ruffled by the rude
manner of the Spanish doctor. In Calvin’s letter to Farel,
of 13th February 1546, he thus writes of Servetus :—“ He
offers to come hither, if I please. But I do not wish to
pledge my word for his safety ; for if he come, I shall not
suffer him to depart alive, if my influence be of any avail.”
(Calvin’s Letters, vol. ii., 1857.) This is very definite.
Servetus now had recourse successively to Abel Popin, a
pastor at Geneva, and to Pierre Viret, pastor at Lausanne,
without any better result. He had new completed his
Christianismi Restitutio, and Marinus, a German pub¬
lisher at Bale, got the first offer of it. The German was
too wary to engage in any such enterprise, and Servetus had
accordingly to prevail upon a bookseller in Vienne secretly
to engage in the printing of it. The work was gone about
with due caution, and on its publication in 1553, it was
forwarded to Frellon, publisher in Lyons, who had formerly
employed Servetus, and through whom the Spaniard had
corresponded with Calvin. It was through this man, it is
reported, that Calvin came by his copy of the work of Ser¬
vetus ; others say it reached him through the ordinary
channels of the trade. At all events, De irie, then resid¬
ing at Geneva, and a friend of the Reformer, sent to a
Lyonese the first sheet of this work, and pronounced Ser¬
vetus the author. More letters came to Lyons, in which
were some of those sent to Calvin by Servetus himself.
The upshot was that the engines of the Inquisition were set
in motion, and had not the Spaniard escaped from the pri¬
son in which he was confined in Vienne, he would, without
doubt, have suffered the extreme penalty of the law. The
ordinary tribunal of the Bailiwick of Vienne sat in judg¬
ment on the outlaw, and condemned him to the flames
on the 17th of June 1553. So far as it is possible to as¬
certain anything with regard to the opinions promulgated in
the Christianismi Restitutio, they seem to have been de¬
cidedly anti-Trinitarian. The author sought to bring men
back to the simple faith of primitive Christianity, which, in
his opinion, both the Reformed and Roman Catholic
churches had forsaken. What galled Calvin perhaps nearly
as much as the doctrines the book contained was the spirit
in which he, the Reformer of Geneva, was spoken of in
that publication. It is difficult on any other assumption
to account for his singular animosity against Servetus.
All the accustomed respect paid to Calvin was here treated
with derision, and he was plied at once with the most inge¬
nious arguments and handled with the most scurrilous abuse.
For a time Servetus lay concealed in the French terri¬
tory, but subsequently taking courage, lie set out for
Geneva, and arrived there towards the end of the month of
July, on his way to Italy. It is not certain by whom he
wras recognised ; some would have it by Calvin himself.
But this seems doubtful. The words of the Proces are,
“ M. Servetus was recognised by some brethren.” Calvin
instructed his servant, Nicolas de la Fontaine, to have him
imprisoned, and to stand security according to the lex
talionis, then a judicial usage in Geneva. Calvin writes,
in his letter to Farel of the 20th August 1553, “ Nicolas
was released from prison on the third day, having given
up my brother as his surety; on the fourth day he was
set free.” (Calvin’s Letters, vol. ii., 399.) The forty
charges brought against Servetus had been found proven by
the Senate. Calvin says in the same letter, “ I hope that
sentence of death will at least be passed upon him ; but I
desire that the severity of the punishment may be miti¬
gated.” The Senate of Geneva, despite the remonstrances
of Calvin to the contrary, resolved to lay the case before
Servia. the Swiss Churches of Berne, Zurich, Schaffhausen, and
Basle. Calvin now busied himself.in writing to the leading
brethren of the several churches regarding the criminality
of Servetus. He urged upon them, with more than ordi¬
nary warmth, the necessity for giving a judgment which
should at once rid the church and the world of this man
and his “ detestable mockeries.” The churches were
unanimous in their verdict of the theological culpability
of Servetus, and mildly exhorted their Genevan brethren to
rid the church of this noisome pest. (See Calvin’s Letters,
vol. ii., p. 417.) After such replies the decision could
not be long doubtful. Yet the sentence which was pend¬
ing has been denominated by Lord Brougham, the greatest
lawyer of the present generation, as “ a mockery of a
trial.” On the 27th of October 1553, Servetus was led
forth to hear his doom pronounced. He had escaped the
terrors of the Inquisition at Vienne, only to meet death at
Geneva. From the site where the fatal pile was erected
beyond the walls of the city, he bequeathed with his breath
a mournful souvenir to the Reformation, and an eternal
subject of accusation to the enemies of Calvin. Persecu¬
tion was the sad legacy left by the middle ages to Chris¬
tian communities. The error of Calvin in the death of
Servetus was the error likewise of Bucer, of Gicolampadius,
of Melanchthon, and of Bullinger, for they all agreed in the
sentence of condemnation pronounced upon the unfortunate
Spaniard. Hence, while one cannot but deplore the error
into which they were led, and feel a just pity for a great
victim, respect for the memory of the Reformers whom an
unhappy time made the accusers and judges of Servetus
cannot but commingle with that righteous indignation which
every one must feel at such an enormous departure from
the principles of enlightened justice.
Many copies of the Christianismi Restitutio had been
conveyed to Frankfurt for the Easter fairs ; and Calvin
lost no time in sounding the alarm to the pastors of that
church to have them instantly and entirely destroyed. So
successfully was the wmrk done, that only three copies of
the book are now in existence, one in the Imperial Lib¬
rary of Paris, another in that of Vienna, and a third in
a private collection. (See Rilliet, Relation du Proces de
Servet, p. 9, 1844.) Among other curious things contained
in this very rare book, there is an important theory re¬
garding the circulation of the blood. Servetus held,
in opposition to all physicians of his day, that the whole
mass of the blood passes through the lungs by the pul¬
monary artery and vein. From this suggestion Harvey
had only to advance a single step to render himself im¬
mortal. (The chief authorities for the life of Servetus are
De la Roche, 1712; Mosheim (in German), 1748; Treschel
(in German), 1839; and Rilliet (in French), 1844, trans¬
lated by Tweedie, 1846; besides the latest published au¬
thority, in Calvin’s Letters, 1857.)
SERVIA (Turkish Syrp, Slavonic Serbia), one of the
Danubian principalities, nominally included in the Ottoman
empire, but in reality only tributary to that power; lying
between N. Lat. 43. 2. and 44. 58., E. Long. 19. 10. and
22. 20.; bounded on the N. by the Austrian dominions,
E. by Wallachia and Bulgaria, S. by Rumilia and Albania,
and W. by Bosnia. Length from E. to W., 160 miles;
greatest breadth, 200; area, 21,152 square miles. The
country is very mountainous, having a general inclina¬
tion towards the north, where the Danube flows along
the frontier, and receives all the running water of the
country. The mountains consist of northern branches
o t ie Balkan chain, and are the most considerable off¬
shoots of that range, being higher and more numerous
than those either in Bulgaria to the east or Bosnia to
ie west. . 1 he extreme S.W. of the principality is
a so occupied by an offshoot of the Dinaric Alps, which
divides the waters of the Drina from those of the Morava.
The whole country is traversed by ridges extending from
south to north, forming between them numerous narrow
valleys, which seldom expand into plains. The passes over
the mountains towards the south are very difficult, even for
foot-passengers and beasts of burden. Indeed, in this direc¬
tion, there extends an almost unbroken mass of ridges and
plateaus, as far as the borders of Macedonia, Albania, and
the Herzegovina. At the north-eastern corner of the land
a branch of the Carpathian Mountains extends down to the
Danube, forming the division between Wallachia and the
Austrian empire. On the north and east Servia is bounded
by the Danube and its affluent the Save. The former
river touches the boundary at Belgrade, where it is joined
by the Save from the west. It then flows eastward as far
as Orsova, where it turns to the south, and separates Wal¬
lachia from Servia. It receives from the south the Morava,
which is formed by the confluence of the Bulgarian and
Seivian Morava; and the Timok, which, for a short dis¬
tance, sepaiates Bulgaria from Servia. The chief affluents
of the Save are the Drina, forming the frontier of Servia
towaids Bosnia and the Kolubara. The scenery of Servia
is exceedingly beautiful; for the mountains are almost all
coveied with dense forests of oaks and other trees; the
valleys and rivers form an endless and agreeable diversity ;
and the lower ground is exceedingly fertile, covered in
many places with rich meadows, and in others with fields
of Turkish wheat, which grows most luxuriantly. The
mountains of Servia are very rich in minerals, such as gold,
silver, copper, iron, loadstone, lead, and coal; and the
forests abound in valuable timber. The country is, how¬
ever, little cultivated, and scantily peopled ; and its great
resources want the hand of industry to develop them.
Wolves, bears, foxes, deer, and hares, are the most numer¬
ous wild animals of the land. Fish abound in the rivers ;
and silk-worms and bees are reared in large numbers.
Corn is grown chiefly in the valleys of the Morava, Save,
and lower Drina ; and notwithstanding the defective system
of cultivation, the quantity raised is more than sufficient for
the wants of the country. Vines are cultivated along the
banks of the Danube. On an average there is more red
than white wine produced ; but the white grapes of Semen-
dria, from vineyards said to have been originally planted
by the emperor Probus, are highly esteemed. Tobacco,
hemp, and various kinds of fruit, especially plums, are also
grown in different parts of Servia. Various measures have
been adopted by the government for the improvement of
the cultivation of the country, by the establishment of agri¬
cultural schools, and of a model farm; but the effect of
these has not yet been apparent. The rearing of cattle is
one of the most important sources of wealth to the country;
and live stock form one of the most considerable exports
of the country. The horses are of good breed, but more
remarkable for strength and endurance than for beauty.
Horned cattle are chiefly used here in the labour of the
farm ; and the sheep, which are numerous, supply the
people with milk, butter, cheese, and wool. The rearing of
swine is very profitable, and is spread over all the country.
Manufacturing industry is in Servia still in its infancy, and
is somewhat discouraged by the little demand that there is
for manufactured goods. But the Servians have a great
aptitude for mechanical employments, and produce many
articles of excellent construction. The women weave,
during the winter, linen, woollen, and silk cloth, to supply
the wants of the whole family; and many of the men are
employed as masons, carpenters, tilers, smiths, millers,
tailors, &c. There is a government printing-office at
Belgrade, a cloth factory at Topdschider, a glass-work at
Jagodina, a foundry at Kragujewaz, and an extensive
powder-mill at Stragari. The trade with foreign countries
is very active, and daily increasing in importance. Owing
to the very limited demand for articles of foreign produc-
62
S E R V I A.
Servia. tion, the exports greatly exceed the imports. 1 he princi-
—v-^ Pal articles of export are cattle, pigs* leeches, hides, wool,
tallow, wax, and honev. The chief places of trade are
Belgrade. Jagodina, Scliabaz, Negotin, and Aleksinaz. For
vear ending 31st October 1857 the total imports were,
L.548,000; exports, L.740,000 ; goods in transit, L.206,600.
Of the imports, L.412,000 were from Turkey, and L.l 33,000
from Austria; of the exports, L.l73,800 were to Turkey,
and L.552,000 to Austria.
The country suffers from the want of good means of
communication. Of the navigable rivers in the land, only
the Danube and the Save are used for purposes of traffic ;
but the full freedom of navigation on these rivers is secured
as a fundamental privilege of the nation. Freedom of trade
is also secured as a national right to all Servians, not only
in their own country, but in the whole Ottoman empire.
Servia has no coinage of its own; but Austrian, Turkish, and
Russian moneys are in circulation. Public education is one
of the chief objects of attention to the government; but it
is still in a very backward condition. The parish schools
are supported by each separate parish, and the higher in¬
stitutions by the government. Of the former there ought
by law to be at least one in each parish, but in many
places this is not the case. The higher schools comprise
four gymnasia, two schools of art, and one of agriculture; a
lyceum, with faculties of law, natural -science, and philo¬
sophy; a theological seminary; and a military academy. The
number of scholars attending these various institutions in
1855 was 11,281, of whom by far the greatest number be¬
longed to the parish schools. There is one learned society,
the Society for Servian Literature in Belgrade. In 1856
there were published in the country 3 journals, which had
1450 subscribers; and there were introduced from other
countries 6 Slavonian, 84 German, 7 English, 21 French,
4 Italian, 2 Plungarian, and 1 Turkish newspaper. The
religion of the great majority of the people is that of the
Greek Church ; and the national Church of Servia acknow¬
ledges its canonical dependence on the Constantinopolitan
patriarchate by an annual remittance of 9000 piasters
(about L.90). The archbishop of Belgrade enjoys the title
of Metropolitan of Servia, and the supremacy over the
three bishops who form with himself the National Synod,
the highest ecclesiastical court in the country. Each
bishop presides in a diocesan consistory; and all the pre¬
lates are appointed from the monastic order by the synod,
with the concurrence of the prince. The number of the
inferior clergy is 651, and that of the convents 38. Roman
Catholics and Protestants are allowed to establish congre¬
gations, and to manage independently their church and
school funds; but any secession from the national church
is rigorously forbidden. Jews and Mohammedans are per¬
mitted the free exercise of their religion. Servia forms an
integral part of the Turkish empire, but stands to it in a
peculiar relation of dependence, according to which the na¬
tion and its prince are bound to loyalty and obedience to
the sultan, and to the payment of an annual tribute of
2,300,000 piasters (about L.23,000); while, on the other
hand, the Porte guarantees to the principality full internal
sovereignty, the free election of their princes, an independ¬
ent national government, full freedom of religion, legis¬
lation, trade, and navigation, and the right to maintain a
national defensive force. The dignity of prince is heredi¬
tary in the male line, and was settled in 1842 on the family
of Alexander Georgewitch. The Turks in the country are
immediate subjects of the Porte; and there are 7 Turkish
fortresses, 5 under the governor of Belgrade, and 2 under
the Pasha of Widdin. The power of the prince is limited
by a senate of 17 members, which possesses the chief legis¬
lative powers ; and there is also a general assembly of the
people which meets from time to time ; but the extent of
its powers is not accurately defined. There is no distinc¬
tion of ranks, except what is derived from occupation.
Most of the people are Servians, but the country also con- '
tains about 106,000 Wallachians, a few thousand Bulga¬
rians, 16,000 Turks, about 1800 Jews, 18,000 gypsies, and
about 6000 European foreigners. The country is divided
into 17 circles, exclusive of the city of Belgrade; and it
contained, in 1854, 39 towns, 2306 villages, and 160,294
houses. The total population in the same year was
I, 029,082; the number of births, 34,167; of marriages,
II, 863; and of deaths, 26,894. The annual average for
1837-53 was 1 birth to every 28-3 persons ; 1 marriage to
every 97; and 1 death to every 43-5 ; and the average
annual increase of the population was 1*23 per cent.
The territory of Servia formed part of the Roman em¬
pire, and was included in the province of Upper Mcesia.
From their conquerors, the original inhabitants received by
degrees the benefits of civilization and Christianity; but
both of these were exposed to many dangers from the in¬
roads of the barbarians. Attila, and after him Theodoric,
severely afflicted the country; but it gradually recovered
from these misfortunes, and was again united to the Roman
empire of the east. Afterwards it was ravaged by the
Avars ; and, finally, about the middle of the seventh cen¬
tury, the Serbs or Servians entered and occupied the land
which they still possess. They spread themselves, however,
over a much wider region, extending from the Euxine to
the Adriatic, and from the Danube far into the valleys of
the Balkan. Nominally under the protection of the By¬
zantine empire, they derived little advantage from that cir¬
cumstance, in their constant wars with the Bulgarians arid
neighbouring Slavonic nations; and they made many at¬
tempts to attain an independent position. These efforts
were at last successful in 1217, when Pope Honorius
erected Servia into a kingdom, independent alike of Hungary
and the Eastern Empire. The greatest of the monarchs of
Servia was Stephan Duschan. At his coronation in 1333,
he was acknowledged as the feudal lord of Ragusa, and his
authority extended over iEtolia and Macedonia. He as¬
sumed the title of king and emperor, and bore on his ban¬
ners the imperial double eagle. Before his death in 1356,
the Servian sway extended over Bulgaria, Bosnia, Dalma¬
tia, and a part of Albania; and he had even hoped, at the
head of 80,000 men, to put a final end to the Byzantine
empire. But he was cut off by death, and the monarchy
began thereafter to decline, and was unable to stand before
the advancing arms of the Turks. In the very year of
Stephan’s death, these formidable opponents first gained a
firm footing in Europe; and in 1389, Lazarus, the last
king of Servia, was beheaded in the tent of Amurad L,
after the bloody battle of Amselfeld. Another victory
gained by the Turks on the same field, sixty years later,
brought the country completely under their power. Ser¬
via was, however, afterwards the scene of many contests
between the Christian and the Turks, and contains the
battle-fields of Batucsina (1689), Nissa (1689), Belgrade
(1717), Groczka (1739), and others. The country re¬
mained under the Turkish yoke till the beginning of the
present century; but at last the oppression which they suf¬
fered drove the people to rebellion. The first leader who
raised the standard of independence, in 1801, was George
Petrowitch, surnamed Czerny, or the Black. The Servians
flocked to his standard, speedily drove the Turks to take
refuge in the fortresses, and proceeded to besiege these.
In 1806 they totally defeated a large Turkish army at
Schabaz, soon after took Belgrade, and before the end of
1807 were in possession of the whole country. In 1811
George Czerny was appointed Prince of Servia; but not
recognised by the Porte, and the conditions offered by
that power in 1812 not being accepted, a fresh war en¬
sued, which terminated unfavourably for the Servians.
George Czerny had to flee, and the country was again re-
Servia.
S E R
Service duced under the Turkish sway. Another leader rose up
|| in the person of Melosch Olrenowitch, who restored, in
Sestini. some measure, the independence of his country, and con-
eluded a treaty with the Porte in 1815. rl wo years later,
George Czerny, returning to the country, was put to death
bv order of Melosch, who was determined to avoid any
precipitate measures of hostility to the lurks. In 1827
Melosch was appointed Prince; but in 1839 he was forced
to abdicate this dignity. Upon this, various contending
factions strove for the supreme power in Servia ; but, finally,
a general assembly of the people, in 1842, elected Alex¬
ander Georgewitch, son of George Czerny, to be heredi¬
tary prince, and this choice was subsequently ratified by
the Porte. The principality of Servia, which had pre¬
viously been tinder the protection of Russia, was by the
treaty of Paris, in 1856, placed under the collective guaran¬
tee of the contracting powers in that treaty.
SERVICE, Choral, in the Romish Church, &c., con¬
sists of a certain order of antiphonies and psalms sung to
what is called canto fermo in Italian, canto llano in Spanish,
and plain-chant in French. This kind of chant, in its
simplest form, consists of slow sounds of equal duration,
and without any embellishment, sung in unisons and
octaves. In other cases the canto fermo is accompanied
by parts in harmony, but always with due regard to a cer¬
tain antique and very simple style of melody and of har¬
mony, which is founded upon the peculiar tonality and
cadences of the canto fermo, and without which it loses its
characteristic effects. The canto corale, or choral chant,
is often particularly named canto Gregoriano, or Gregorian
chant, from the great pains taken by St Gregory, in the sixth
century, to improve and to teach to his pupils the oriental
church chants derived from the Greeks. St Ambrose before
him had introduced the oriental choral chants into the
western church of Italy. (See Music.) With regard to the
tunes introduced into the early reformed church in the time
of Luther and Calvin, some curious particulars are to be
found in Bayle’s Dictionnaire Historique et Critique, article
Marot. The Puritans in England suppressed the church
choral service, and permitted psalm-singing only. Charles,
II. revived the choral service in England. For minute
accounts of the origin, progress, and revolutions of this
species of music in various Christian churches, the reader
may consult Gerbert, De Cantu et Musica Sacra, Padre
Martini’s Storia, Hawkins’and Burney’s Histories of Music.
For technicalities, &c., consult, among other works, A. E.
Choron’s Methode de Plain-Chant, &c., Paris, 1818;
and his Principes pour apprendre le Plain-Chant,
Paris, 1818. (g. f. g.)
SERVITUDE, Penal. See Prison Discipline.
SERVIUS TULLIUS. See Roman History, § 4.
SESOSTRIS, or Rameses II. See Egypt.
SESSA, a town of the kingdom of Naples, province of
Terra di Lavoro, on the western slope of the Massic Hills,
on a small affluent of the Garigliano, 17 miles E. of Gaeta.
It occupies the site of the ancient Suessa Aurunca, and is
indeed built on the volcanic tufa which has covered the
remains of that town ; for an amphitheatre and some other
buildings have been discovered beneath the town. The
modern town is meanly built, but is the see of a bishop,
and contains a cathedral, several other churches, convents,
and charitable institutions. Some of the churches contain
good pictures and monuments. Pop. 4000.
SESSION, Court of. See Scotland.
SESTERTIUS. See Coin.
SESTINI, Domenico, an eminent numismatist, natu¬
ralist, and traveller, was born at Florence about 1750.
Having gained a solid grounding in classical learning, he
entered upon the ecclesiastical profession, and in 1774 he
became keeper of the cabinet of antiquities of Prince
Biscari in Sicily. After holding this office for four years,
SET 6a
he was appointed tutor to the Neapolitan ambassador at Settle.
Constantinople, and was subsequently employed by Sir
Robert Ainslie, the English ambassador, to collect medals
for him. After various journeys taken from Constantinople,
Sestini returned to Italy, where he published some six or
seven works, mostly on his travels, and which were, for the
most part, done into French. He subsequently visited
the Levant, Salonichi, Tuscany, Germany, Paris, Florence,
and Pisa. He resided, sometimes years, and sometimes
only a few months, at those places. He was appointed
honorary professor in the University of Pisa in 1814, and
afterwards repaired to Hungary, where he was employed
to arrange and catalogue the rich collection of coins and
medals in the possession of Count Wiczay at Herder-
war. Leopold II. subsequently chose Sestini to the office
ot royal antiquarian, and after his death, which occurred at
Florence in 1832, he purchased his library and manuscripts,
and among others, the work of his life in 14 vols. folio, the
Sistema Numismatico. Sestini wrote a great many works
on his favourite branch of archaeology, which will be found,
with a biography of the author, in the Antologia of
Florence for July 1832.
SE f I LE, a market town of England, in the West
Riding ot Yorkshire, near the left bank of the Ribble, at the
foot of a lofty limestone rock called Castleberg, rising in the
midst of a fertile valley 54 miles W.N.W. of York. It is
substantially built, and has one principal, and several smaller
streets, and a market-place, in which stands a fine Eliza¬
bethan edifice for public purposes. The parish church
stands on the other side of the river; but there is another
established place of worship in the town, besides those be¬
longing to the Wesleyan and Primitive Methodists, Inde¬
pendents, and Quakers. Settle contains cotton factories,
worked by w'ater-power, ropeworks, and paper-mills.
Weekly markets and annual fairs are held here. Pop.
1976.
SETTLE, Elkanah, an English poet, who owes his
reputation entirely to the ridicule which Dryden and Pope
have heaped upon him, was born at Dunstable in 1648. He
entered Trinity College, Cambridge, as a commoner, in
1666, where, although passing the university without a
degree, he seems to have gained some sort of notoriety as a
versifier. Dennis, Welstead, and Milbourn combine in
placing Settle above Dryden during his college days; but the
notoriety gained by youth is not always an earnest of after
fame. Settle came up to London as a literary adventurer,
and what with his university repute and the patronage of
the profligate Rochester, he succeeded for a time in lording
it over Dryden, who had then just entered upon his literary
career. Cambyses, a tragedy, did not lower his reputation
in the eyes of his professed admirers. His Empress of
Morocco, printed in a style of unparalleled splendour, was
acted by the lords and ladies of Whitehall, was applauded
for a month at the theatre, and was sold at double its pub¬
lished price. The foolish author, quite intoxicated by his
success, triumphantly ran a-muck of Dryden in a vaunting
preface. Dryden, who could ill brook the taunts of an
upstart adventurer, combined with Shadwell and Crowe
in writing scurrilous notes to the Empress. The indignant
author answered them after his fashion ; but his fame had
unfortunately now reached its culmination. He published
a lame burlesque of Dryden’s Absalom and Achitophel,
entitled Absalom Senior, or Absalom and Achitophel
Transposed, which had the effect of rousing the fierce
wrath of the great poet, who, in the second part of his
Absalom and Achitophel, impaled Settle and Shadwell
under the names of Doeg and Og, and has rendered them
quite an unenviable immortality.
“ Who by my muse to all succeeding times,
Shall live, in spite of their own doggrel rhymes.”
He satirizes, as only Dryden could, Settle’s blundering
64 SET
Setubal melody, his rude bombast, and his poverty of thought, and
II has left what, after all allowance has been made for the
v ever’ ^ essential spirit of unfairness in which the poem is conceived,
v-"- wip ijg regarded by all readers as one of the most amusing
pieces of poetical criticism on record. Pope has likewise
once and again stumbled on poor unfortunate Settle in his
Dunciad (Books i., 90, 146 ; in., 37, 283), where he alludes
in the most caustic terms to his glory as city poet and as
Whig pamphleteer to Shaftesbury. Settle had the gratifi¬
cation of burning the Pope in effigy, to the no small
delight of the London mob, in November 17, 1680; but
afterwards he suddenly changed his party, and recanted
his political heresies in 1683. The revolution extinguished
him for ever, and he was compelled, as Dryden mockingly
prophesied of him, to aspire to become “ the master of a
puppet-show.” He kept a booth at Bartholomew fair,
where in his old age he is said to have played the part of
the dragon in green leather, in St George for England, with
great effect! He was subsequently taken into the Charter-
house, where he died in 1723.
SETUBAL, erroneously called by the English St Elbes,
a town of Portugal, in the province of Estremadura, on the
north shore of a bay of the same name, 20 miles S.E. of
Lisbon. It is encircled by old ruinous walls, and the whole
valley in which it stands is commanded by several heights,
which are crowned with forts. The town extends along
the shore for about three-quarters of a mile, and consists for
the most part of narrow crooked streets, extending parallel
to the shore, or at right angles to it. There are several
squares adorned with fountains. The houses are in general
substantially built; and the most conspicuous edifices are
four churches, some of which contain good paintings. There
are two upper schools, and two hospitals, one of which oc¬
cupies a handsome building. The harbour is large, deep,
and furnished with commodious quays; but its entrance is
obstructed by sand-banks. Large quantities of salt are
made in the vicinity of Setubal, and exported to England,
Sweden, and other countries. Corn, wine, and fruits are
the chief other articles of trade. Setubal is an ancient
town ; and indeed, if we believe the Portuguese sages, was
founded by Tubal, the grandson of Noah. There are many
ancient remains in the vicinity, belonging probably to the
ancient Cetobriga. After the expulsion of the Moors,
Setubal was deserted for a long time ; and it was only in
the seventeenth century that it was fortified. The town
suffered severely, along with Lisbon, from the earthquake
of 1755. The people are extensively engaged in fishing.
Pop. 15,201.
SEVAJEE. See Hindustan.
SEVASTOPOL. See Sebastopol.
SEVENOAKS, a market-town of England, in the county
of Kent, on a hill 17 miles W. of Maidstone, and 23 S.S.E.
of London. It is well built, and has two principal streets,
which are wide, and contain many large houses. The
parish church is a large edifice, chiefly in the perpendicular
style, with a lofty tower. The other places of worship be¬
long to Wesleyans and Baptists. There is a free grammar
school, founded in 1418 by Sir William Sennocke, with
two exhibitions to Cambridge, an endowed school, a range
of almshouses, and a market-house. Near the town is
Knole Park, a fine old mansion, in the midst of a magni¬
ficent park. Markets are held weekly at Sevenoaks, chiefly
for corn. Pop. 1850.
SEVER, St, a town of France, capital of an arrondisse-
ment in the department of Landes, in a fertile tract on the
left bank of the Adour, 49 miles E.N.E. of Bayonne. This
well-built place contains several fine edifices, among which
are a magnificent church, a court-house, hospital, and bar¬
racks. It has a college, a court of law, tanneries, potteries,
and oil mills. The chief articles of trade are corn, wine,
brandy, and lithographic stones. Pop. (1856) 4679.
S E V
SEVERN, in point of length and importance, second to Severn,
the Thames among British rivers; in the beauty and majesty
of its aspect, surpassed by none. It rises at a place called
Maes Hafren, in the moors, high up the eastern side of
Plinlimmon, on the south-w'estern border of Montgomery¬
shire. From that point its course is nearly semicircular to
the sea, first towards the north-east, then southwards, and
finally in a south-westerly direction to the Bristol Channel,
which it enters at a point only 80 miles in a straight line
S.E. of its source, though its length is about 200 miles.
The counties it traverses are, in their order, Montgomery¬
shire, Shropshire, Worcestershire, and Gloucestershire. For
the first 15 miles of its course the Severn flows over a rough
precipitous bed, through a narrow valley, and is interrupted
by many falls, some of which are of considerable size. At
Llanidloes, the valley expands to the width of 1 or 2 miles,
and assumes a more fertile and beautiful appearance. It
is bounded on the S.E. by the range of the Plinlimmon
Hills, and on the N.W. by the Berwyn Mountains. Its
chief affluents here are the Clywedog and the Vyrnwy.
From this gradually widening vale it emerges on the bor¬
ders of Shropshire, and, turning to the S.E., enters the
broad rich plain of Shrewsbury. With enlarged but gentle
stream it flows beneath the dark castle and more modern
towers of Shrewsbury; and skirted now by woods, now by
meadows, it passes the western base of the Wrekin, and
pursues its course through the county, receiving from the
right the Meole, Cound, Mar Brook, and Bore Brook; and
from the left the Perry Tern, Bell Brook, and Worf. Be¬
fore leaving Shropshire, the river acquires a southerly direc¬
tion, in which it continues to flow through Worcestershire.
In this county it passes the towns of Stourport and Wor¬
cester, and, after entering Gloucestershire, those of Tewkes¬
bury and Gloucester. From Buildwas under the Wrekin,
to Gloucester, a distance of 72 miles, the fall of the river is
only 104 feet; and from Stourport to Gloucester the breadth
is very nearly the same, about 150 feet. Below the latter
town, the breadth of the Severn, and the bold picturesque
character of its banks, continually increase. Its course for
some distance below Gloucester is very tortuous; but at
Sharpness Point it expands very much, and, after a further
course of 18 miles, the estuary of the Severn widens out
into the Bristol Channel, just at the point where it receives
from the left the Lower Avon or Bristol River; and from
the right the Wye, which rises in Plinlimmon, close to its
own source. From Gloucester downwards, the general
course of the river is S.W. Besides the rivers already
mentioned, the most important affluents of the Severn are
the Teme from the right, the Upper Avon and the Frome
from the left. In the lower part of its course, the Severn
flows through a valley about 12 miles broad, bounded on
the east by the Coteswold, and on the west by the Malvern
Hills, neither of which rise to any great height. The
whole extent of land drained by the Severn is 4500 square
miles; and to this must be added 1400 drained by the
Wye, making a total of 5900 square miles. Owing to the
extent of this area, and the marly character of the greater
part of it, the quantity of mud deposited in the estuary is
greater than in that of any other river in Europe. The
tide enters the estuary with great force ; and the tidal wave
or bore is here about 9 feet high. Inundations have fre¬
quently been caused by the sudden rise of the tide. At
the mouth of the Severn it rises 48 feet, and at Chepstow,
on the Wye, as high as 60 feet. The navigation of the
Severn is of very great importance. It extends to 160
miles above its mouth, and affords to North Wales and the
adjacent country the means of conveying their produce to
the sea. Several canals connect it with the more important
places in the adjacent parts of England. The Stroudwater
Canal, and the Severn and Thames Canal, connect the
waters of these two rivers; the Gloucester and Berkeley
S E V
Severus Canal avoids the tedious windings of the Severn below the
II former town ; and various other canals connect different
evi e‘ j parts of the river with Birmingham, Liverpool, and other
towns. The Severn abounds in fish of many different
kinds. The ancient name of the river was Hafren, by
which it is still known above Llanidloes. It was called by
the Romans Sabrina, a name it is said to have derived from
a British princess who was drowned in it; and Milton has
employed this name in his Comus to designate the goddess
of the river.
SEVERUS. See Roman History, § 5.
SEVIGNE, Marie de Rabutin Chantal, Marquise
de, was born in 1627. When only a year old she lost her
father, who was killed in the descent of the English on the
isle of Rhe, where he commanded a company of volunteers.
In 1644 she married the Marquis of Sevigne, who was slain
in a duel by the Chevalier d’Albret, in 1651. She had by
him a son and a daughter, to the education of whom she
afterwards religiously devoted herself. Her daughter was
married in 1669 to the Count de Grignan, who conducted
her to Provence. Madame de Sevigne consoled herself by
writing frequent letters to her daughter, but she fell at last
the victim to her maternal tenderness. In one of her visits
to Grignan, she fatigued herself so much during the sick¬
ness of her daughter, that she was seized with a fever,
which carried her off on the 14th of January 1696. We
have two portraits of Madame de Sevigne; the one by the
Comte de Bussi, and the other by Madame de la Fayette.
Bussi describes her as a lively gay coquette, a lover of flat¬
tery, fond of titles, honour, and distinction; M. de la Fay¬
ette, as a woman of wit and good sense, as possessed of a
noble spirit, formed for dispensing benefits, incapable of
debasing herself by avarice, and blessed with a generous,
obliging, and faithful heart. Both these portraits are in
some measure just.
Madame de Seyigne was acquainted with all the wits of
her age. It is said that she decided the famous dispute
between Perrault and Boileau concerning the preference
of the ancients to the moderns. She left behind her a most
valuable collection of letters, a good edition of which is
that of 1775, in eight volumes 12mo. “ These letters,”
says Voltaire, ‘‘are filled with anecdotes, written with free¬
dom, and in a natural and animated style ; are an excellent
ci iticism on studied letters of wit, and still more on those
fictitious letters which aim at the epistolary style, by a re¬
cital of false sentiments and feigned adventures to an ima¬
ginary correspondent.” It were to be wished that a proper
selection had been made of these letters. They may be
looked on as a relation of the manners, the tone, the genius,
the fashions, and the etiquette, of the court of Louis XIV.
1 hey also contain many curious anecdotes nowhere else to
be found. I he most complete edition of these epistles is
that of De Montmerque, 13 vols., 1818, which contains
many letters never before published. J. Ad. Aubenas
has written the Histoire de Madame de Sevigne de sa
fannlle et de ses amis, Paris, 1842; and Alphonse de
Lamartine has written an elaborate account of her in his
Memoirs of Celebrated Characters, Vol. III., 1856. A
volume of Sevigniana was published at Paris in 1756.
SE VILLE (Sp. Sevilla), a province of Spain, Andalusia,
bounded on the N. by the province of Badajoz, N.E. by
that of Cordova, S.E. and S. by those of Malaga and Cadiz,
?n. by ^at of Haelva. Area, 8011 square miles. It
is in general a flat country, lying in the valley of the Guad-
a quiver, which traverses the province in a very irregular
course fiom N.E. to S.W.; but near its northern and
southern frontiers there are elevations of considerable height,
n t ie north, Seville includes some of the highest summits
°t the Sierra Morena; and in the south, part of the Sierra
0 one a. Next to the Guadalquiver, the largest river in the
province is its affluent the Jenil, which forms the boundary
VOL. xx. J
S E V
between Seville and Cordova. The Guadalquiver also re¬
ceives from the right the Biar and the Cola; from the left
the Corbones and the Guadaira, besides other streams of
less importance. The mineral resources of the country are
considerable. Coal is obtained in the Sierra Morena,
marble and limestone in the Sierra of Ronda. Iron, silver,*
lead, and copper also exist in the province. The soil is
extremely fertile, and produces in abundance all sorts
of corn, wine, oil, vegetables, oranges, and other fruits,
iobacco, hemp, and flax are also grown. The climate is
very warm and genial; the temperature in summer ranges
^ 1:0 and in winter seldom descends low-er than
; so that frost and snow are entirely unknown here.
Ihese rich and genial regions, which were made by the
ancients the seat of the Elysian fields, have always offered
a strong temptation to warlike tribes, and have been but
feebly defended against their attacks by the indolent and
peaceful natives of the soil. Manufactures are not carried
orUto. any Sreat extent here; the rich produce of the land
sufficing to supply most of the necessaries and some of the
luxuries of life. Silk fabrics are made in the capital; and
in addition to this, coarse woollen cloth, linen, earthenware,
cast-iron, soap, and brandy are manufactured in the pro¬
vince. Corn, oil, wool, fruits, and other articles are ex-
ported. The roads in this province, as in the whole of
Andalusia, are very bad, being for the most part mere
mule tracks. A railway has, however, been constructed from
Cadiz to Cordova, which traverses the province; and the
Guadalquiver is navigated by steamers as far as Seville.
Pop. (1857) 501,050.
Seville, the capital of the above province, on the left
bank of the Guadalquiver, 62 miles N.N.E. of Cadiz, and
242 S.W. of Madrid. It is circular in shape, about 5 miles
in circumference, and surrounded with Moorish walls, which
have 15 gates and 66 towers. The portion of the walls
near the Cordova gate is one of the most perfect specimens
of ta pia, a sort of hard concrete, formed of mortar, rubble,
and stones. These walls, as well as what is called the
golden tower, from having been the place of deposit for
the treasures of America, are said to be of Roman origin ;
but their structure is undoubtedly Moorish. The onlyreal
Roman remains in the town are two pillars in the Alameda
Vieja, some well-preserved suggrundaria, or underground
tombs for infants, a subterranean aqueduct, and some frag¬
mentary remains. Of Moorish antiquities there is no lack,
for the town is indeed more than half Moorish. The streets
are narrow and crooked, forming a labyrinth very difficult
for the stranger to find his way through; and the houses
have open courtyards, surrounded by corridors, and covered
in summer with awnings. These narrow streets and spa¬
cious houses are very suitable to the hot weather in sum¬
mer, as they afford some shelter and relief from the rays of
the sun, which are very oppressive in the wide streets and
small houses that have been erected in the more modern
parts of the town. The Alameda Vieja was formerly the
chief public walk of Seville; it is planted with elm-trees
and adorned with fountains and statues ; but now the Paseo
de Christina, and Las Delicias, a beautiful walk along the
river-side, are more frequented. The streets of Sierpe and
Francos are also very fashionable promenades; and the
Plaza del Dugue is used for the same purpose in the sum¬
mer moonlight nights. The chief other public squares are
the Plaza de Toros, or bull arena, which accommodates
14,000 spectators, and the Plaza de la Constitucion, which
has a very picturesque appearance, with its Moorish arcades
and balconies. The cathedral of Seville is one of the
largest and grandest in Spain. It occupies the site of a
former mosque, which was pulled down in 1480. The only
portions that remain of the Moorish edifice are a horse-shoe
gate, and the beautiful giralda or belfry, which was built
in 1196. It was originally 250 feet high, and was the tower
65
Seville.
66 S E V
Seville, from which the Muezzin summoned the people to prayers;
blit in 1568 a very elegant belfry was added, raising the
total height to 850 feet. A magnificent view is obtained
from the summit, which is crowned by a vane, consisting
of a bronze image of The Faith. Ihe cathedral is of the
same oblong form that the ancient mosque had; and its
dimensions are—length, 431 feet; breadth, 315 ; height of
the nave, 145 feet; of the cimborio, or transept dome, 171
feet. There are seven aisles, the two nearest the walls at
each side being divided into chapels. At the west end of
the central aisle is the tomb of Fernando, the son of Chris¬
topher Columbus; above which is erected, during Easter
week, a large wooden chapel for the reception of the host.
The painted windows of this cathedral are among the
finest in Spain, mostly done by foreign artists in the 16th
century. A rich Doric frontage, adorned with precious
marbles, leads to the choir, and above it are two organs,
one of which has 5300 pipes and 110 stops, being 50 more
of the latter than that of Haarlem, and 20 more than that
of Rotterdam. In the choir, the stalls, the archiepiscopal
throne, and the carvings of the high altar are very fine.
Behind the high altar is the Royal Chapel, which almost
forms a church by itself. It is large and gloomy, and con¬
tains the tomb of Ferdinand III., who took the city from
the Moors. Much superior to this chapel is the chapter-
house, 50 feet long by 34 broad. Notwithstanding the re¬
peated spoliations it has suffered, this cathedral is a maga¬
zine of the fine arts, and contains many of the masterpieces
of Murillo and other great painters of the Seville school.
Its general appearance is a gorgeous gloom, quiet and
solemn; and when the rays of the sun fall on the cioss
above the high altar, it has a very fine effect. Besides the
cathedral, Seville contained at one time about 140 churches ;
but many of these were destroyed or turned to other uses
during the French invasion. There are now about 30
parish churches, some of which are very fine. Among
those destroyed by the French were the Magdalena, in
which Murillo was baptized ; and Santa Cruz, where he
was buried. His house is still preserved, containing the
room in which he used to paint. Many also of the nume¬
rous convents that Seville possessed have been suppressed.
Next to the cathedral, however, the most splendid building
is the Alcasar, or royal palace, which has some Roman
columns from the old praetorian palace on the same site. I he
principal hall, that of the ambassadors, in this palace is not
inferior to that in the Alhambra; and the small chapel
oflsabella is covered with some of the finest Moorish tiling in
Spain. The University of Seville was founded in 1504, and
transferred in 1767 to the Jesuits’ convent, after their expul¬
sion. It has one of the best collections of paintings in the
towm, and is usually attended by upwards of 1000 students.
There are many other fine buildings in the town, such as
the Lonja, or Exchange, in the classical style, the town-
hall, court-house, the former mint, the archiepiscopal palace,
the corporation house, and the Casa de Pilatos, a palace
now belonging to the Duke de Medina Cell, built in the
15th century, it is said, after the model of Pilate s house
in Jerusalem. There is a very good museum of paintings,
an academy of the fine arts, two theatres, several colleges,
a normal seminary, and numerous elementary schools. 1 he
number of benevolent institutions was at one time very
great, there having been in 1558 no fewer than 76 hospi¬
tals ; but many of these have since been suppressed. 1 here
are still, however, a considerable number, and some of them
are very large and magnificent establishments. Seville
contains two prisons and a house of correction, which are
large and well managed. The largest manufactory in
Seville is an enormous one of tobacco, outside the walls,
occupying an area of 662 feet by 524. It has 28 interior
courts, and employs no few'er than 4000 persons in the
manufacture of cigars. Earthenware, crystal, machinery,
S E V
soap, leather, cotton, linen, and silk fabrics, hats, &c., are Sevres,
also manufactured here. The manufactured articles are, Deux,
however, of very inferior quality. Seville is said to have -*r
been formerly much more important as a manufacturing
town than it is at present; and although many of the state¬
ments about its former prosperity' are evidently and egiegi-
ously exaggerated, there is no reason to doubt that at one
time it was an important seat of the silk manufacture. From
about the middle of the seventeenth to the beginning of the
present century, this branch of industry, with many fluctu¬
ations, continued to maintain a high position; but subse-
quently it has very much fallen oft. The trade of the place,
too, has declined from the period when it enjoyed a mono¬
poly of the commerce with America, as the difficulty of
navigating the river with large vessels caused Seville to be
supplanted by the more convenient port of Cadiz. The
chief articles exported are wool, leather, silk, oil, oranges,
quicksilver, lead and copper; while the imports consist
principally of iron, steel, hardware, timber, cloth, cheese,
butter, &c. The total value of the imports in 1856 was,
L.558,893 ; and of the exports, L.606,614. In the same
year there entered the port 262 vessels ; tonnage, 30,164 :
and there cleared 281 ; tonnage, 31,688. The fiist settle¬
ment that took place on the site of Seville was a Phoenician
colony, under the name of Hispal, which has passed thiough
the Hispalis of the Romans, and the Ishbiliah of the Moors,
into the Sevilla of the modern Spaniards. Little is known
of its history previous to the Roman conquest of the Penin¬
sula. Julius Caesar conquered it in 45 B.C., and patronized
the town in opposition to Cordova, which had adhered to
the cause of Pompey. It was, however, inferior in im¬
portance both to that town and to Gades, until the invasion
of the Goths, who made it their capital; but in the sixth
century the court was removed to the more central situ¬
ation of Toledo. Seville opened its gates to the Moors in
711; and remained in their possession till 1247, when it
was besieged by the Christians under Ferdinand III. of
Castile and Leon. This siege, which issued in the capture
of the city in the following year, is the most remarkable
event by which the city has been distinguished. It was the
capital of Spain from that period till the time of Charles V.,
who transferred that honour to Valladolid. In 1/29 a
treaty was concluded at Seville between England, France,
and Spain. In 1810 it surrendered to the French under
Soult, but was evacuated by them in 1812, after the battle
of Salamanca. Many eminent men have been born in
Seville or its vicinity. Among these are—the emperor Tra¬
jan ; the philanthropic Las Casas; Rueda, the founder of
Spanish comedy ; Ulloa, the traveller; Murillo and Velas¬
quez, the painters. Seville is, for size, the third city in
Spain. Pop. (1857) 152,000.
SEVRES, Deux, a department of France, bounded
on the N. by that of Maine-et-Loire, E. by that of Vienne,
S. by those of Charente and Charente-Inferieure, and W.
by that of Vendee. Its length, from N. to S., is about 79
miles; greatest breadth, 41 ; area, 2341 square miles. It is
traversed by a chain of low hills, called the Hills of Gatine,
which extends from the mountains of Auvergne N.W. to
the mouth of the Loire, entering the department from
Vienne at the S.E., and leaving it at the N.W., on the
borders of Vendee. Their mean height is not more than
450 feet; and they separate the valley of the Loire on the
N.E. from those of the Charente, Sevre Niortaise, and Lay,
on the S.W. Neither the Loire nor the Charente traverse
any part of the department, but they receive some consid¬
erable tributaries from it; the Loire receiving the Sevre
Nantaise flowing towards the N.W., and the 1 houet with
its tributaries the Cebron, Argenton, and Dive; and the
Charente receiving the Boulonne. The Sevre Niortaise
receives the Mignon, which flows along the south-western
boundary of the department. Of these rivers, three are
S E V
Sevres
navigable for some distance, the Dive, the Sevre Niortaise,
ii and the Mignon. There are no considerable lakes in the
^wesan. country, but some ponds and marshes among the hills.
* v1 he lulls themselves are rugged and granitic, covered with
wood, and traversed by numerous valleys. From these
hills the ground descends on either side to extensive plains ;
those on the north having, like the hills generally, a granitic
formation, while towards the south the prevailing structure
of the country is calcareous. Thus, though the soil of the
department is, on the whole, rich and fertile, it varies con¬
siderably in productiveness in different parts ; the southern
plain being in general superior to the northern. Agricul¬
ture is the chief employment of the people ; but it is in a
very backward state, few efforts being made to improve
the soil. Corn and wine are the principal productions of
the country ; a considerable extent of ground is occupied
by meadows and forests, chiefly on the slopes of the hills;
hemp and flax grow in the more moist tracts; and hops
are raised with success especially in the neighbourhood of
Niort. Of the entire area of the department, there are cal¬
culated to be 1,010,000 acres of arable land ; 185,000 of
meadows; 50,000 of vineyards; 90,000 of wood; and 55,000
of heaths and waste land. The vineyards, which exist only
in the south-west portion of the department, produce very
good white wines, and excellent brandy. The extensive
natural meadows of the country support cattle of good
bieeds, and sheep of a large size, which by a cross with the
Spanish breed have been much improved in the quality of
their wool; pigs, mules, and asses are also reared. It is
estimated that the department contains 33,000 horses,
114,000 horned cattle, 426,000 sheep, 42,000 pigs, 20,000
goats, 13,000 mules, and 4000 asses. The mineral produc¬
tions of the country are not of very great importance.
Small quantities of iron, marble, mill-stones, chalk, potter’s
clay, and saltpetre, are the only minerals that are worked.
Among the manufactories are those of woollen and cotton
stuffs; of leather at Niort; besides distilleries, potteries,
oil-mills, &c. The principal articles of trade are live
stock; especially mules, which are sent in large numbers
to Spain, and cattle which are sent either to Normandy
to be fattened, or to Paris. Corn, wine, and brandy are
also among the articles of commerce. Internal communi¬
cation is facilitated by the navigable rivers, by numerous
roads, and by a railway which traverses the southern part
of the country. Deux Sevres forms, along with Vienne,
the diocese of the Bishop of Poitiers, and contains 5
Calvinist churches. It has 5 courts of law, subordinate
to the appeal court at Poitiers, a tribunal of commerce, 4
colleges, a normal seminary, 2 superior and 527 elementLrv
. schools. The department has for its capital Niort, and is
divided into four arrondissements, as follows : 
S E X
Cantons.
Niort jo
Bressuire  6
Melle  7
Panhenay  g
Total.
.31
Communes.
93
91
91
79
354
Pop. 1856.
108,160
71.192
77,384
71,110
327,846
Sevres, a town of France, department of Seine-et-
Oise, on the eft bank of the Seine, between the hills of
Mendon and St Cloud, 6 miles N. W. of Paris. It is chiefly
lemarkable for the manufacture of the fine porcelain that
takes its name from the town. The manufactory was re-
rnoved from Vincennes to the present large building, in
17oo, when it was purchased by Louis XV. It is now the
pi operty of the nation. There is here a large museum of
porcelain, containing specimens of all ages and countries,
and'l? 18 aIso :ema,kabIe lor the colouring of the china;
Pop. 489TnUfaCtUreS °f COlOUr, ename1’ and painted Slass*
EWES FAN, a tract of land in Afghanistan, forming
the south-eastern corner of that country, h ino- between TV
lat. 29° 30' and 30° 30'; about E. long. 69° 30'. It forms
part of the Khanat of Candahar. On the east it is separated
by the Suliman Mountains from the Punjab ; on the south
ironi Beloochistan by the mountains about Kohun ; on the
west it is inclosed by the Toba and Hala ranges ; and to¬
wards the north it has no definite limit. It consists of a
nat dry clayey plain, whose excessive heat is only alleviated
y the streams that flow in some places from the hills. The
c nef town is Sewee, or Sebee, near the southern frontier
m a tract of land which is one of the best cultivated parts
ot the country. r
SEXAGESIM A, the second Sunday before Lent, or the
next to Shrove Sunday; so called as being about the six¬
tieth day before Easter.
SEXAGESIMALS, or Sexagesimal Fractions, are
such as have 60, or some multiple of 60, for their denomi-
o^0r' ", denommator being usually omitted, 4°, 59',
’ a ’Jr J !S t0 ,be read’ 4 degrees, 59 minutes, 32
seconds, 50 thirds, and 16 fourths.
SEXIAN I, denotes the sixth part of a circle, or an
arch comprehending sixty degrees. The word sextant is
moie particularly used for an astronomical instrument made
like a quadrant, excepting that its limb only comprehends
SlxiypteeTec' t7^ottS^ADRANT and Mukal Circle.)
SEX I US EMPIRICUS, the celebrated author of the
Fyrrhoman Hypotyposes, was a physician who attached
himself to the school of the Empirici, and hence the name by
w nch he is usually known. He was a pupil of Herodotus
of l arsus (Diog. Laert. ix. Timon), who was himself a
physician, and most probably a contemporary of Galen.
1 his serves to settle, with some degree of accuracy, the era
of Sextus, who must have flourished about the first half of
the third century after Christ. Nothing whatever is
known of his life. He has given full proof to all suc¬
ceeding thinkers in the two books which he has left, be¬
hind him of the precise complexion of his creed, and the
amount of ingenuity with which he was capable of de-
ending^ it. The first work, Uvppowiai 'Yttotuttwcteis -n
o’kc.tttlko. vvofiv^aTa, contains a complete repository of the
doctrines of the sceptics. His second work, Epos rovs
fj.a.6rip.aTLKov<s avTLpprjTiKot, in eleven books, is against the
mathematicians, or dogmatists, and attempts to refute every
vestige of positive knowledge which man has ever ela¬
borated. The works combined form the most correct
account extant of the ancient sceptical thinkers, and their
mode of assailing all manner of dogmatism. It is a per¬
fect store-house of doubts regarding every imaginable
phasis of human knowledge. It is set forth with emi¬
nent clearness, and contains an exposition of the doctrines
maintained by the sceptical school. Sextus now and then
degenerates into pure logomachy, a thing to be expected,
but with this exception, it is really wonderful the amount
of acute pertinacious pursuit with which every idea, real
or supposed, is hunted down and strained into the scep¬
tical alembic. He enunciates at the outset what he un¬
derstands by scepticism. It is, he says, a disposition to
doubt of everything beyond mere phenomena. Sextus
carries out this definition with the most rigid exactness. It
is, without doubt, one of the most refreshing books that a
man of reflection can meet with, and it is really surprising to
find that the same everlasting problems, which, sixteen cen¬
turies ago, were perplexing the minds of thinking men, are
still occupying the attention and exciting the passions of
philosophers, and apparently will do so to the very end. For
an account of the tenets of this author see Scepticism.
The Editio Princeps of the Greek text of Sextus was that
o Paris and Geneva, 1621. 1 he second impression of the
works of Sextus Empiricus was by J. A. Fabricius, Leipzig,
1718. A good edition of the Greek text is that of Bekker,
Berlin, 1842. The first Latin translation of the Hypo-
67
Sexagesima
II
Sextus
Empiricus.
63 S E Y
Seychelles typoses was published by H. Stephens, in 1562. The first
II Latin version of the work against the Dogmatists is by G.
Sezanne. Hervet? Antwerp and Paris, 1569. Buhle translated the
Hypotyposes, or outlines, in 1801 ; and there is an anony¬
mous French version, or rather paraphrase, of them, sup¬
posed to be by one Huart, a teacher of mathematics, pub¬
lished in 1725. An English version of the works of Sextus
is still a desideratum ; but the text would require con¬
siderable purification before a respectable translation could
be executed. None of the medical works of Sextus remain.
SEYCHELLES, a group of islands in the Indian Ocean,
lying between S. Lat. 3. 33. and 5. 35., E. Long. 55. 15. and
56. 10.; 915 miles N. of Mauritius, 566 N.E. of Madagas¬
car, and 1470 S.W. of the continent of India. They are
29 in number, but most of them are of very small size, being
merely rocks rather than islands. They stand on a bank of
coral and sand, rising from the depths of the ocean to a dis¬
tance varying from 12 to 40 fathoms from its surface. This
bank stretches from north to south for a distance of about
200 miles, and from east to west 30 or 40 miles. The islands
themselves, with the exception of two of coralline struc¬
ture, are granitic, and have a very rugged and irregular ap¬
pearance, rising into peaks in the centre, which are not culti¬
vated, but covered with perpetual verdure. The soil is
good, and the climate warm and equable ; hurricanes and
violent gales are unknown. Sugar canes, tobacco of excel¬
lent quality, cloves, and many kinds of trees, among which
is the coco de mer, or Seychelles cocoa-nut, peculiar to these
islands, grow luxuriantly. Cotton is also raised, and an
active trade is carried on in it; but though of excellent
quality, it has not yet come into competition with that of
the United States. Turtles abound in the islands, and
the sperm whale is frequently met with at no great distance.
The people are much given to seafaring pursuits, and there
is a great want of agricultural labourers. Mahe, the
the largest of the islands, is about 17 miles long by 4 broad,
and rises to the height of 2000 feet. It is well wooded,
and watered by many rivulets. The scenery is very pic¬
turesque, and the soil varied, but fertile. On its east coast
is a fine bay called Port Victoria, 4 miles deep by 3£ wide,
and capable of accommodating a large number of vessels.
Next in size to the island of Mahe are those of Praslin,
Silhouette, Digue, and Curieuse. The Seychelles are a de¬
pendency of Mauritius, and are under a civil commissioner,
subject to the government of that island. The public ex¬
penditure for 1855 amounted to L.4090, wdiile the revenue
was little more than half that sum ; the total revenue for
the three years 1853-4-5 being L.6495. Education is in
a backward state, and there were only forty-nine children
attending school in 1855. Most of the inhabitants are
Roman Catholics; and indeed there is no Protestant
church in the islands, though a chaplain of that religion
officiates in Mahe. The Seychelles were first discovered
by Vasco di Gama in 1502; but it was not till 1742
that they were explored by Captain Picault, who took
possession of them in the name of the King of France, and
called them after the French marine minister at that time.
They were captured by the British in 1794, and ceded
to them along with Mauritius by the treaty of 1815. The
population in 1856 of the Seychelles, including the other
dependencies of Mauritius, w^as 8007.
SEYNE, a seaport of France, in the department of Var,
on the Mediterranean, 3 miles S.W. of Toulon, at the west
end of the inner roadstead of that town. It is regularly
laid out and well built, and has spacious quays, a good har¬
bour, and a shipbuilding-yard. Many of the inhabitants
are employed in tunny and sardine fisheries, and there is a
considerable coasting trade. Pop. 4582.
SEZANNE, a town of France, in the department of
Marne, on the slope of a hill, 25 miles S.W. of Epernay.
It was formerly fortified, and the site of its defences is now
S H A
occupied with fine boulevards. There is a curious old Sezza
church, with painted glass in the windows. Flour, oil, vinegar, ||
leather, coarse cloth, tiles, and earthenware are made here ; Shadwell.
and there is some trade in honey and wax. Pop. 4453. “
SEZZA, or Sezze (anc. Setia), a town of the Papal
States, in the province and 18 miles S.W. of Frosinone.
The place was anciently celebrated for its wine, but this is
not now above mediocrity. Here are the remains of an old
temple of Saturn, and of the Cyclopean fortifications of the
town. Figs and other fruits are grown in the neighbour¬
hood. Pop. 8650.
SFAX, or Sfakus, a town of Tunis, on the west shore
of the Gulf of Cabes, 70 miles N.N.E. of Cabes. N.
Lat. 34. 44., E. Long. 10.40. It stands in a very fertile
region ; and outside the walls by which it is surrounded, lie
beautiful gardens. Most of the houses are well built, and
there is one large mosque, besides others of smaller size.
There are important manufactories of woollen cloth and
mats in the town; and an active trade is carried on in
fruits, soap, wax, and wool. Sfax is a place of resort for
the caravans that come from Gadames in the Sahara. The
harbour is very much choked up with mud. As none but
natives are allowed to live in the town, there are many
dwellings outside the walls. Pop. 6000.
SFORZA. See Italy.
’SGRAVESANDE. See Gravesande.
SHAD WELL, Thomas, a dramatic writer, well known
as the hero of Dryden’s satire of MacFlecknoe, was born
in Norfolk in 1640 of an ancient Staffordshire family. He
was educated at Caius College, Cambridge, and subse¬
quently went to study law at the Inner Temple. Disgusted
with the drudgery attendant upon legal pursuits, he
quitted law and London together, and spent some time
in foreign travel. Returning to England, he betook him¬
self to writing for the stage, and gained considerable re¬
putation among the reigning wits of the time, of whom
the chief were Dryden, Otway, and Rochester, as a smart,
witty talker, but he was pronounced much too hasty a
writer. Shadwell, who was a large, round, unwieldy man,
set up as a second Ben Jonson, and in eating and drink¬
ing he must be confessed to have rivalled his master, but
came very far short of him in genius. He rose to be poet-
laureate and historiographer to the king on the retirement
of Dryden in 1688, and was one of the most important
writers of the Whig party. Dryden, who had formerly
been his friend, has immortalized him in perhaps the keen¬
est personal satire in the English language. Conceived, as
the MacFlecknoe is, in a thoroughly satirical spirit, of
course all hope of fairness is at once banished from the
mind on reading the first line of it. Yet with such im¬
mense gusto does the poet bring all the resources of his
wonderful art to crush his opponent, and with such singular
relish does he heap upon him the most unmeasured con¬
tempt, that one cannot help excusing the satirist while one
laughs hugely at MacFlecknoe. Dryden has been often
blamed for the untruthfulness of his representation; he
should have been blamed rather for being a satirist. Not
satisfied with the bruising which Shadwell had received in
the MacFlecknoe, Dryden has drawn another immortal
portrait of him on his way home from a treason-tavern—
“ Round as a globe, and liquored every chink,
Goodly and great, he sails behind his link
in the second part of his Absalom and Achitophel. Shadwell
did not escape the bitter mockery of Pope in his Dunciad.
The great defect of Shadwell in dramatic composition seems
to have been his precipitation. Rochester, who, with all his
faults, must be allowed the character of great penetration,
has left a much more flattering delineation of this much ma¬
ligned poet than any that has yet been given of him. His
Lordship says he had unquestionable genius, but his artistic
S H A
Shaftes- skill was below mediocrity. This nobleman further adds:
bury —“ If Shad well had burnt all he wrote, and printed all he
J , spoke, he would have had more wit and humour than any
a a ^ 'j other poet.” Shadwell died in 1692 in consequence of too
large a dose of opium, which he is reported to have been
in the habit of taking.
A complete edition of Shadwell’s works was published in 1720, in
4 vols. 12mo. His dramatic works are :— The Sullen Lovers, 1668 5
The Royal Shepherdess, 1669; The Humorist, 16/1 ; The Miser, 1672 ;
Epsom IPeZfc, 1673; Psyche, 1675; The Libertine, ) The Virtu¬
oso, 1676; Timon of Athens, 1678 ; A True Widow, 1679; The
Woman Captain; 1680; The Lancashire Witches, 1682; The Squire
of Alsatia, 1688 ; Bury Fair, 1689 ; The Amorous Bigot, 1690 ;
The Scowerers, 1691 ; and The Volunteers, 1693.
SHAFTESBURY, Eakl of. See Cooper.
SHAFTESBURY, a market-town, municipal, and par¬
liamentary borough of England, in Dorsetshire, on the
summit of a high, narrow hill, commanding a fine view
over the fertile country which stretches at its foot, 22 miles
N.E. of Dorchester, and 95 S.W. of London. On account
of its lofty and exposed situation, it has a cold, bleak, but
healthy atmosphere. Irregularly laid out, the houses are
for the most part well built of the freestone quarried in the
vicinity. Of the places of worship in the town, four belong
to the Established Church: St Peter’s, near the centre of
the town, an ancient edifice, but modernized for the worse;
Trinity Church, in the midst of the lime-trees of its spa¬
cious churchyard; St James’; and Rombald’s. The In¬
dependents, Weslej^ans, and Quakers have also places of wor¬
ship here. The town-hall is a handsome building, recently
erected by the Marquis of Westminster. There is an en¬
dowed blue coat school in the town, national and other
schools, a reading-room, savings’ bank, and some charitable
institutions. The manufacture of buttons was formerly
carried on at Shaftesbury, but has entirely fallen off.
Some trade is carried on in butter and cheese, as well as
in the agricultural produce of the fine land round about.
Weekly markets and three annual fairs are held. The
borough is governed by a mayor, three other aldermen and
eighteen councillors; and it returns one member to Parlia¬
ment. The modern town is supposed to occupy the site of
the place called Caersepton by the ancient Britons. It
was a Roman station, but attained to no great importance
till the foundation of the celebrated abbey here by Alfred
about 888. Both before and after this time it was destroyed
by the Danes, but each time it was afterwards restored.
It is said to have contained at the time of the Norman
conquest 166 houses and 12 churches. In the abbey of
Shaftesbury, Canute died in 1035, and Elizabeth, the wife
of King Robert the Bruce of Scotland, was confined for
some time in 1313. The family of Ashley Cooper take
the title of earl from the town of Shaftesbury. It was first
conferred by Charles II. in 1672 on his favourite states¬
man. Pop. (1851) of the municipal borough, 2503 ; of the
parliamentary borough, 9404.
SHAHABAD, a district of British India, Bengal, lying
between N. Lat. 24. 30. and 25. 46.; E. Long. 83. 20.
and 84. 56.; bounded on the N. by the districts of Gha-
zeepoor and Sarun, E. by that of Patna, S.E. and S. by
that of Behar, and W. by those of Mirzapore and Benares.
Length from N.E. to S.W. 106 miles; breadth 56; area,
4403 square miles. It is almost entirely inclosed by na¬
tural boundaries, formed by the Ganges on the N., the
Carumnassa on the W., and the Sone on the S.E. and E.
1 he last two rivers both fall into the Ganges, which, as
well as the Sone, is navigable here. The south-western
part of the district is occupied by a hilly country, rising to
the height of about 700 feet above the sea, and about 500
above the low lands on the banks of the Ganges. This
( |atter portion consists of an extensive plain, liable to annual
! inundations of the Ganges. Most of the land is arable;
^ and the soil is either sandy or clayey, producing, without
S H A 69
irrigation, wheat, barley, and some other crops; while the Shah Ad-
northern portions of the country are rendered exceedingly dulazim
rich by the overflowing of the river, and are planted chiefly q, Jl
with rice, which produces two crops a year. Maize, millet, aj0erean”
lentils, beans, and various other plants are also grown. The ^
chief commercial crops are sugar, cotton, opium, indigo,
and tobacco. A large portion of the country is covered
with wood and jungle ; but the trees are generally stunted,
and yield little good timber. Cotton cloth, silk, paper,
spirits, oil, and sugar are manufactured. The chief ex¬
ports are silk, paper, cotton, wheat, and other grains, pulse,
bamboos, and opium; the imports include tobacco, sugar,
iron, copper, lead, tin, zinc, salt, &c. Shahabad is traversed
by the route from Calcutta to Allahabad, and also by that
from Dinapoor to Ghazeepoor. The country at one time
formed part of the great Magadha empire; but came into
the power of the sultans of Lahore towards the close of
the twelfth century. The southern part of the district was
ceded to the British by the Emperor of Delhi in 1765, and
the northern part by the Vizier of Oude in 1775. Pop.
1,600,000.
SHAH ADDULAZIM, a village of Persia, in the pro¬
vince of Irak Ajemi, 5 miles S.E. of Teheran. It is famous
as the birth-place of the Caliph Harunur-rashid, and also
for a noble mosque which it contains; and still more re¬
nowned as occupying the site of the ancient Rhagae, now
Rhe, the capital of Arsaces, and the birth-place of Hasan
Sabah, the prince of the Assassins, called the “ Old Man
of the Mountain,” who founded the sect of the Ismaelians.
The sepulchre of Togral Beg, the Seljuk prince, who con¬
quered Persia in the eleventh century, stands beside the
village near the hills. It is a large polygonal brick tower.
SHAHJEH ANPORE, a district of British India, N.W.
provinces, lying between N. Lat. 27. 15. and 28. 45.;
E. Long. 79. 23., and 80. 30.; having Oude on the E., and
the districts of Budaon and Bareilly on the W., that of
Pilleebheet on the N., and Furruckabad on the S. Its
shape is irregular, somewhat like a crescent concave to the
west; and its area is 2483 square miles. The country has
a general slope downwards from N.W. to S.E.; and in this
direction the principal rivers flow. The Gogra washes its
north-eastern, and the Ganges its south-western frontier for
a short distance. Between these flow the Goomtee, Gurrah,
Ramgunga, and others of smaller size. All these rivers
ultimately flow into the Ganges. The most elevated portion
of the district is in the extreme north, and attains a height
of 798 feet above the sea, the bed of the Ganges is about
500 feet above the sea. In the north a large part of the
land is occupied by the marshy forests and jungles that lie
at the base of the sub-Himalaya range. Gigantic trees, in¬
terspersed with thick underwood or tall herbage, cover the
land, and a deadly malaria has emptied these forests of men
and domestic animals ; the elephant, rhinoceros, tiger, pan¬
ther, and other wild animals roam undisturbed. This coun¬
try is only useful for a short season for pasturage, and for the
production of timber. The southern part of Shahjehan-
pore enjoys a healthy climate, and a soil rich, well wooded,
and highly cultivated. Wheat, rice, maize, cotton, sugar,
tobacco, pulse, and many kinds of fruit are grown. The
people are generally employed in agriculture, in which
they are skilful and industrious. About three-fourths of
them are Hindoos, and the rest Mohammedans. Shahje-
hanpore formed part of the dominions of the Rohilla Patans
until their total defeat and overthrow by the British in
1774. It was then transferred to the vizier of Oude, and
finally ceded to the East India Company in 1801. Pop.
(1848) 812,588. The chief town is Shahjehanpore, on the
left bank of the Garrah. It is large and generally well
built, and contains a castle, and several stately old mosques,
all in a ruinous condition. The bazaars are well stocked
and frequented. Pop. 62,785.
70
SHAKSPEARE.'
Shak- William Shakspeare, the protagonist on the great arena
speare. Qf moc|ern poetry, and the glory of the human intellect, was
born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in the county of Warwick,
in the year 1564, and upon some day, not precisely as¬
certained, in the month of April. It is certain that he was
baptized on the 26th ; and from that fact, combined with
some shadow of a tradition, Malone has inferred that he
was born on the 23d. There is doubtless, on the one
hand, no absolute necessity deducible from law or custom,
as either operated in those times, which obliges us to adopt
such a conclusion; for children might be baptized, and
were baptized, at various distances from their birth: yet,
on the other hand, the 23d is as likely to have been the
day as any other; and more likely than any earlier day,
upon two arguments. First, because there was probably a
tradition floating in the seventeenth century, that Shak¬
speare died upon his birth-day: now it is beyond a doubt
that he died upon the 23d of April. Secondly, because it
is a reasonable presumption, that no parents, living in a
simple community, tenderly alive to the pieties of house¬
hold duty, and in an age still clinging reverentially to the
ceremonial ordinances of religion, would much delay the
adoption of their child into the great family of Christ.
Considering the extreme frailty of an infant’s life during
its two earliest years, to delay would often be to disinherit
the child of its Christian privileges ; privileges not the less
eloquent to the feelings from being profoundly mysterious,
and, in the English church, forced not only upon the at¬
tention, but even upon the eye, of the most thoughtless.
According to the discipline of the English church, the un¬
baptized are buried with “ maimed rites,” shorn of their
obsequies, and sternly denied that “ sweet and solemn fare¬
well” by which otherwise the church expresses her final
charity with all men; and not only so, but they are even
locally separated and sequestrated. Ground the most hal¬
lowed, and populous with Christian burials of households,
That died in peace with one another,
Father, sister, son, and brother.
opens to receive the vilest malefactor ; by which the church
symbolically expresses her maternal willingness to gather
back into her fold those even of her flock who have strayed shak-
from her by the most memorable aberrations ; and yet, speare.
with all this indulgence, she banishes to unhallowed ground
the innocent bodies of the unbaptized. To them and to
suicides she turns a face of wrath. With this gloomy fact of¬
fered to the very external senses, it is difficult to suppose that
any parents would risk their own reproaches by putting the
fulfilment of so grave a duty on the hazard of a convulsion
fit. The case of royal children is different; their baptisms,
it is true, were often delayed for weeks ; but the household
chaplains of the palace were always at hand, night and day,
to baptize them in the very agonies of death/ We must
presume, therefore, that William Shakspeare was born on
some day very little anterior to, that of his baptism ; and
the more so because the season of the year was lovely
and genial, the 23d of April in 1564 corresponding in fact
with what we now call the 3d of May, so that, whether
the child was to be carried abroad, or the clergyman to be
summoned, no hindrance would arise from the weather.
One only argument has sometimes struck us for supposing
that the 22d might be the day, and not the 23d ; which is,
that Shakspeare’s sole grand-daughter, Lady Barnard, was
married on the 22d of April 1626, ten years exactly from
the poet’s death ; and the reason for choosing this day might
have had a reference to her illustrious grandfather’s birth¬
day ; which, there is good reason for thinking, would be
celebrated as a festival in the family for generations. Still
this choice may have been an accident, or governed merely
by reason of convenience. And, on the whole, it is as well
perhaps to acquiesce in the old belief, that Shakspeare was
born and died on the 23d of April. We cannot do wrong
if we drink to his memory on both 22d and 23d.
On a first review of the circumstances, we have reason
to feel no little perplexity in finding the materials for a life
of this transcendent writer so meagre and so few; and
amongst them the larger part of doubtful authority. All
the energy of curiosity directed upon this subject, through
a period of one hundred and fifty years (for so long it is since
Betterton the actor began to make researches) has availed
us little or nothing. Neither the local traditions of his pro¬
vincial birth-place, though sharing with London through half
'iIrJran,lpbe11’ “J1*3 editi0D °f Shakspeare|s dramatic works, observes that “ the poet’s name has been variously written Shax
cense* pShK ^ added ShaSsPere. the Worceste^ Marriage Lil
i- P s , m toyt** put the tact is, that by combining with all the differences m spelling the first syllable all those in snel
hng the second, more than twenty-five distinct varieties of the name may be expanded (like an algebraic series^ for the choiee nfThe
before^he finatsvb bt T g h 1™?^ Wtich arise froin the intercalation of the middle , (that is, the * immediately
question about L ^ be 0rerlooked by those who remember, at the opening of the Dunciad, the note upon th£ very
ther it Lit it LT gL P n Pe!,re S name’+1aS "P01?the other question about the title of the immortal Satire Whe-
tner it ought not to have been the Dunceiade, seeing that Dunce, its great author and progenitor, cannot possibly dispense ^th the letter
probably E 1^mustJe-ark’ tl^ the first ^ee of Mr Campbell’s ^variations are me?e caprices of the piss , aslfslagsL e i lore
Worcester for tb ,e.uPhonious ,vanety arose out of the gross clownish pronunciation of the two hiccuping “ marktmm" who rode ovL to
Iv hmanlvLef 5- and 0ne cannotrif°rbear laughing at the bishop’s secretary for having been so misled by two varlets profised-
lo treafll matterln?tfeir-0Wn VilLainS had CUt d°'VI1 the bride’s name into Hathwey. Finally
-matter wth seriousness, Sir Frederick Madden has shown, in his recent letter to the Society of Antiquaries tdt the noet
saffy wis v rvPr l ltJ WITe the Tf Unif0i;mly S^pere Orthography, both of proper names, of appellatives, and of words uni ver!
larimX ufe“led UP to a P^od lon? subsequent to that of Shakspeare. Still it must usually have happened that names vvritten
nEerf^lenriv^a/d0! 7/ uniformly by the owners; especially by those owners who had occasion to sign their
q. tly. and by literary people, whose attention was often, as well as consciously, directed to the proprieties of snellW
te stefin +h8 n0W+,t0° fami.liar t0 the e-ve for any alteration to be attempted; but it is pretty certain that Sir Frederick Madden s riirht
terfltf nE P,0et,S S1hrnature t0 have been uniformly Shakxpere. It is so written twice m the course of hisLill and it is so writ
VT E’Pr00f that, even in the case of royal christenings, it was not thought pious to “ tempt God ’’ as it were bv delav Edward
I ’ lnL /h w 1 Henr-V VfIL was born °n the 12tb day of October in the year 1337. And there was a delay on account of the sE,
of the nkriit the 7 VVaS E-a" Ij0nd”n’ , Y.et bow Uttle that delay was made, may be seen by this fact: The birih took place in the dead
a And Pr- ^ Fr!day ’ and *7’ in spite aH delay, the christening was most pompously celebrated on the succeedimr Mon
day And Prince Arthur, the elder brother of Henry VIII. was christened on the very next Sunday succeeding to his^birth 'notwith"
elri beiLTeaclmd bvco^1117’ occasioned by tbe dis±anc? of Lord Oxford, his godfatherf and the excessive rain| whichpreLuted the
S } couriers, or himself reaching Winchester, without extraordinarv exertions.
SHAKSPEARE.
71
Sbak- a century the honour of his familiar presence, nor the recol-
speare. ]ecj.jons 0p ^a(. |)ri]liant, literary circle with whom he lived
in the metropolis, have yielded much more than such an
outline of his history as is oftentimes to be gathered from
the penurious records of a grave-stone. That he lived, and
that he died, and that he was “ a little lower than the an¬
gels these make up pretty nearly the amount of our un¬
disputed report. It may be doubted indeed whether at this
day we are as accurately acquainted with the life of Shak-
speare as with that of Chaucer, though divided from each
other by an interval of two centuries, and (what should have
been more effectual towards oblivion) by the wars of the two
roses. And yet the traditional memory of a rural and a syl¬
van region, such as Warwickshire at that time was, is usually
exact as well as tenacious; and, with respect to Shakspeare
in particular, we may presume it to have been full and cir¬
cumstantial through the generation succeeding to his own,
not only from the curiosity, and perhaps something of a
scandalous interest, which would pursue the motions of one
living so large a part of his life at a distance from his wife,
but also from the final reverence and honour which would
settle upon the memory of a poet so pre-eminently success¬
ful ; of one who, in a space of five-and-twenty years, after
running a bright career in the capital city of his native land,
and challenging notice from the throne, had retired with an
ample fortune, created by his personal efforts, and by la¬
bours purely intellectual.
How are we to account, then, for that deluge, as if from
Lethe, which has swept away so entirely the traditional
memorials of one so illustrious ? Such is the fatality of er¬
ror which overclouds every question connected with Shak¬
speare, that two of his principal critics, Steevens and Ma¬
lone, have endeavoured to solve the difficulty by cutting it
with a falsehood. They deny in effect that he was illus¬
trious in the century succeeding to his own, however much
he has since become so. We shall first produce their state¬
ments in their own words, and we shall then briefly review
them.
Steevens delivers his opinion in the following terms :—
“ How little Shakspeare was once read, may be understood
from Tate,, who, in his dedication to the altered play of
King Lear, speaks of the original as an obscure piece, re¬
commended to his notice by a friend; and the author of
the Tatler, having occasion to quote a few lines out of
Macbeth, was content to receive them from Davenant’s
alteration of that celebrated drama, in which almost every
original beauty is either awkwardly disguised or arbitrarily
omitted.” Another critic, who cites this passage from Stee¬
vens, pursues the hypothesis as follows :—In fifty years af¬
ter his death, Dryden mentions that he was then become a
little obsolete. In the beginning of the last century, Lord
Shaftesbury complains of his rude unpolished style, and his
antiquated phrase and wit. It is certain that, for nearly a
hundred years after his death, partly owing to the imme¬
diate revolution and rebellion, and partly to the licentious
taste encouraged in Charles II.’s time, and perhaps partly
to the incorrect state of his works, he was almost entire¬
ly neglected.” This critic then goes on to quote with
approbation the opinion of Malone,—“ that if he had been
read, admired, studied, and imitated, in the same degree as
he is now, the enthusiasm of some one or other of his ad¬
mirers in the last age would have induced him to make some
inquiries concerning the history of his theatrical career, and
the anecdotes of his private life.” After which this enlight¬
ened writer re-affirms and clenches the judgment he has
quoted by saying,—“ His admirers, however, if he had ad¬
mirers in that age, possessed no portion of such enthu¬
siasm.”
It may perhaps be an instructive lesson to young read¬
ers, if we now show them, by a short sifting of these con¬
fident dogmatists, how easy it is for a careless or a half-read
man to circulate the most absolute falsehoods under the
semblance of truth ; falsehoods which impose upon himself
as much as they do upon others. We believe that not one
word or illustration is uttered in the sentences cited from
these three critics, which is not virtually in the very teeth
of the truth.
To begin with Mr Nahum Tate:—This poor grub of lite¬
rature, if he did really speak of Lear as “ an obscure piece,
recommended to his notice by a friend,” of which we must
be allowed to doubt, was then uttering a conscious false¬
hood. It happens that Lear was one of the few Shakspearian
dramas which had kept the stage unaltered. But it is easy
to see a mercenary motive in such an artifice as this. Mr
Nahum Tate is not of a class of whom it can be safe to say
that they are “ well known:” they and their desperate
tricks are essentially obscure, and good reason he has to
exult in the felicity of such obscurity; for else this same
vilest of travesties, Mr Nahum’s Lear, would consecrate his
name to everlasting scorn. For himself, he belonged to
the age of Dryden rather than of Pope: he “ flourished,”
if we can use such a phrase of one who was always wither¬
ing, about the era of the Revolution ; and his Lear, we be¬
lieve, was arranged in the year 1682. But the family to
which he belongs is abundantly recorded in the Dunciad;
and his own name will be found amongst its catalogues of
heroes.
With respect to the author of the Tatler, a very differ¬
ent explanation is requisite. Steevens means the reader
to understand Addison; but it does not follow that the
particular paper in question was from his pen. Nothing,
however, could be more natural than to quote from the
common form of the play as then in possession of the stage.
It was there, beyond a doubt, that a fine gentleman living
upon town, and not professing any deep scholastic know¬
ledge of literature (a light in which wTe are always to re¬
gard the writers of the Spectator, Guardian, &c.), would
be likely to have learned anything he quoted from Mac¬
beth. This we say generally of the writers in those perio¬
dical papers; but, with reference to Addison in particular,
it is time to correct the popular notion of his literary cha¬
racter, or at least to mark it by severer lines of distinc¬
tion. It is already pretty well known, that Addison had
no very intimate acquaintance with the literature of his own
country. It is known also, that he did not think such an
acquaintance any ways essential to the character of an ele¬
gant scholar and litterateur. Quite enough he found it,
and more than enough for the time he had to spare, if he
could maintain a tolerable familiarity with the foremost La¬
tin poets, and a very slender one indeed with the Grecian.
flow slender, we can see in his “ Travels.” Of modern
authors, none as yet had been published with notes, com¬
mentaries, or critical collations of the text; and, accord¬
ingly, Addison looked upon all of them, except those few
who professed themselves followers in the retinue and equi¬
page of the ancients, as creatures of a lower race. Boileau,
as a mere imitator and propagator of Horace, he read, and
probably little else, amongst the French classics. Hence it
arose that he took upon himself to speak sneeringly of
Tasso. To this, which wras a bold act for his timid mind,
he was emboldened by the countenance of Boileau. Of the
elder Italian authors, such as Ariosto, and, a fortiori, Dante,
he knew absolutely nothing. Passing to our own literature,
it is certain that Addison was profoundly ignorant of Chau¬
cer and of Spenser. Milton only,—and why ? simply be¬
cause he was a brilliant scholar, and stands like a bridge
between the Christian literature and the Pagan,—Addison
had read and esteemed. There was also in the very constitu¬
tion of Milton’s mind, in the majestic regularity and plane¬
tary solemnity of its epic movements, something which he
could understand and appreciate: as to the meteoric and
incalculable eccentricities of the dramatic mind, as it dis-
Shak-
speare.
SHAKSPEARE.
72
Shak- played itself in the heroic age of our drama, amongst the Ti-
apeare. tans of 1590-1630, they confounded and overwhelmed him.
V v ' In particular, with regard to Shakspeare, we shall now
proclaim a discovery which we made some twenty years
ago. We, like others, from seeing frequent references to
Shakspeare in the Spectator, had acquiesced in the com¬
mon belief, that, although Addison was no doubt pro¬
foundly unlearned in Shakspeare’s language, and thorough¬
ly unable to do him justice (and this we might well assume,
since his great rival Pope, who had expressly studied Shak¬
speare, was, after all, so memorably deficient in the appro¬
priate knowledge),—yet, that of course he had a vague
popular knowledge of the mighty poet’s cardinal dramas.
Accident only led us into a discovery of our mistake. Twice
or thrice we had observed, that if Shakspeare were quoted,
that paper turned out not to be Addison’s ; and at length,
by express examination, we ascertained the curious fact,
that Addison has never in one instance quoted or made any
reference to Shakspeare.1 But was this, as Steevens most
disingenuously pretends, to be taken as an exponent of the
public feeling towards Shakspeare ? Was Addison’s ne¬
glect representative of a general neglect ? If so, whence
came Rowe’s edition, Pope’s, Theobald’s, Sir Thomas Han-
mer’s, Bishop Warburton’s, all upon the heels of one another ?
With such facts staring him in the face, how shameless must
be that critic who could, in support of such a thesis, refer to
“ the author of the Tatlerf contemporary with all these edi¬
tors. The truth is, Addison was well aware of Shakspeare’s
hold on the popular mind ; too well aware of it. The fee¬
ble constitution of the poetic faculty, as existing in himself,
forbade his sympathising with Shakspeare; the proportions
were too colossal for his delicate vision; and yet, as one
who sought popularity himself, he durst not shock what per¬
haps he viewed as a national prejudice. Those who have
happened, like ourselves, to see the effect of passionate mu¬
sic and “ deep-inwoven harmonics” upon the feeling of an
idiot, may conceive what we mean. Such music does not
utterly revolt the idiot; on the contrary, it has a strange
but a horrid fascination for him: it alarms, irritates, dis¬
turbs, makes him profoundly unhappy; and chiefly by un¬
locking imperfect glimpses of thoughts and slumbering in¬
stincts, which it is for his peace to have entirely obscured,
because for him they can be revealed only partially, and
with the sad effect of throwing a baleful gleam upon his
blighted condition. Do we mean, then, to compare Addi¬
son with an idiot ? Not generally, by any means. Nobody
can more sincerely admire him where he was a man of real
genius, viz. in his delineations of character and manners, or
in the exquisite delicacies of his humour. But assuredly
Addison, as a poet, was amongst the sons of the feeble ;
and between the authors of Cato and of King Lear there
was a gulf never to be bridged over.2
But Dryden, we are told, pronounced Shakspeare already
in his day “ a little obsolete.” Here now we have wilful,
deliberate falsehood. Obsolete, in Dryden’s meaning, does
not imply that he was so with regard to his popularity (the
question then at issue), but with regard to his diction and
choice of words. To cite Dryden as a witness for any pur¬
pose against Shakspeare,—Dryden, who of all men had the
most ransacked wit and exhausted language in celebrating
the supremacy of Shakspeare’s genius, does indeed require
as much shamelessness in feeling as mendacity in principle.
But then Lord Shaftesbury, who may be taken as half Shak-
way between Dryden and Pope (Dryden died in 1700, Pope ^ speare.
was then twelve years old, and Lord S. wrote chiefly, we
believe, between 1700 and 1710), “ complains,” it seems,
“ of his rude unpolished style, and his antiquated phrase and
wit.” What if he does ? Let the whole truth be told, and
then we shall see how much stress is to be laid upon such
a judgment. The second Lord Shaftesbury, the author of
the Characteristics, was the grandson of that famous politi¬
cal agitator, the Chancellor Shaftesbury, who passed his
whole life in storms of his own creation. The second Lord
Shaftesbury was a man of crazy constitution, querulous from
ill health, and had received an eccentric education from his
eccentric grandfather. He was practised daily in talking
Latin, to which afterwards he added a competent study of
the Greek; and finally he became unusually learned for his
rank, but the most absolute and undistinguishing pedant
that perhaps literature has to show. He sneers continually
at the regular-built academic pedant; but he himself, though
no academic, was essentially the very impersonation of pe¬
dantry. No thought however beautiful, no image however
magnificent, could conciliate his praise as long as it was
clothed in English ; but present him with the most trivial
common-places in Greek, and he unaffectedly fancied them
divine; mistaking the pleasurable sense of his own power
in a difficult and rare accomplishment for some peculiar
force or beauty in the passage. Such was the outline of
his literary taste. And was it upon Shakspeare only, or up¬
on him chiefly, that he lavished his pedantry ? Far from it.
He attacked Milton with no less fervour; he attacked Dry¬
den with a thousand times more. Jeremy Taylor he quoted
only to ridicule ; and even Locke, the confidential friend of
his grandfather, he never alludes to without a sneer. As to
Shakspeare, so far from Lord Shaftesbury’s censures arguing
his deficient reputation, the very fact of his noticing him at
all proves his enormous popularity; for upon system he no¬
ticed those only who ruled the public taste. The insipidity
of his objections to Shakspeare may be judged from this,
that he comments in a spirit of absolute puerility upon the
name Desdemona, as though intentionally formed from the
Greek word for superstition. In fact, he had evidently
read little beyond the list of names in Shakspeare ; yet
there is proof enough that the irresistible beauty of what
little he had read was too much for all his pedantry, and
startled him exceedingly; for ever afterwards he speaks
of Shakspeare as one who, with a little aid from Grecian
sources, really had something great and promising about
him. As to modern authors, neither this Lord Shaftes¬
bury nor Addison read anything for the latter years of their
life but Bayle’s Dictionary. And most of the little scin¬
tillations of erudition which may be found in the notes to
the Characteristics, and in the Essays of Addison, are de¬
rived, almost without exception, and uniformly without ac¬
knowledgment, from Bayle.3
Finally, with regard to the sweeping assertion, that “ for
nearly a hundred years after his death Shakspeare was al¬
most entirely neglected,” we shall meet this scandalous false¬
hood by a rapid view of his fortunes during the century in
question. The tradition has always been, that Shakspeare
was honoured by the especial notice of Queen Elizabeth, as
well as by that of James I. At one time we were disposed to
question the truth of this tradition ; but that was for want of
P “ Mr De Quincey is certainly mistaken when he says that Addison has never in one instance quoted or made any reference to
Shakspeare. No. 160 (of the Spectator) hears the signature of C., and immediately follows the Vision of Mirza, bearing the same signa¬
ture.”—CAarfes Knight. In No. 160 Shakspeare is placed amongst the first class of great geniuses.]
2 Probably Addison’s fear of the national feeling was a good deal strengthened by his awe of Milton and of Dryden, both of whom had
expressed a homage towards Shakspeare which language cannot transcend. Amongst his political friends, also, were many intense ad¬
mirers of Shakspeare. , ... ,
3 He who is weak enough to kick and spurn his own native literature, even if it were done with more knowledge than is shown by
Lord Shaftesbury, will usually be kicked and spurned in his turn ; and accordingly it has been often remarked, that the Characteristics
are unjustly neglected in our days. For Lord Shaftesbury, with all his pedantry, was a man of great talents. Leibnitz had the saga¬
city to see this through the mists of a translation.
SHAKSPEARE.
73
Shak-
speare.
having read attentively the lines of Ben Jonson to the me¬
mory of Shakspeare, those generous lines which have so
absurdly been taxed with faint praise. Jonson could make
no mistake on this point: he, as one of Shakspeare’s fami¬
liar companions, must have witnessed at the very time, and
accompanied with friendly sympathy, every motion of royal
favour towards Shakspeare. Now he, in words which leave
no room for doubt, exclaims
Sweet swan of Avon, what a sight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appear;
And make those flights upon the hanks of Thames
That >o did take Eliza and our James.
These princes, then, were taken, were fascinated, with
some of Shakspeare’s dramas. In Elizabeth the approba¬
tion would probably be sincere. In James we can readily
suppose it to have been assumed ; for he was a pedant in
a different sense from Lord Shaftesbury; not from under¬
valuing modern poetry, but from caring little or nothing for
any poetry, although he wrote about its mechanic rules. Still
the royal imprimatur would be influential and serviceable no
less when offered hypocritically than in full sincerity. Next
let us consider, at the very moment of Shakspeare’s death,
who were the leaders of the British youth, the principes ju-
venttitis, in the two fields, equally important to a great poet’s
fame, of rank and of genius? The Prince of Wales and John
Milton; the first being then about sixteen years old, the other
about eight. Now these two great powers, as we may call
them, these presiding stars over all that was English in thought
and action, were both impassioned admirers of Shakspeare.
Each of them counts for many thousands. The Prince of
Wales1 had learned to appreciate Shakspeare, not originally
from reading him, but from witnessing the court represen¬
tations of his plays at Whitehall. Afterwards we know that
he made Shakspeare his closet companion, for he was re¬
proached with doing so by Milton. And we know also, from
the just criticism pronounced upon the character and diction
of Caliban by one of Charles’s confidential counsellors, Lord
Falkland, that the king’s admiration of Shakspeare had im¬
pressed a determination upon the court reading. As to Milton,
by double prejudices, puritanical and classical, his mind had
been preoccupied against the full impressions of Shakspeare.
And we know that there is such a thing as keeping the sym¬
pathies of love and admiration in a dormant state, or state of
abeyance ; an effort of self-conquest realized in more cases
than one by the ancient fathers, both Greek and Latin, with
regard to the profane classics. Intellectually they admired,
and would not belie their admiration ; but they did not give
their hearts cordially, they did not abandon themselves to
their natural impulses. They averted their eyes and wean¬
ed their attention from the dazzling object. Such, proba¬
bly, was Milton’s state of feeling towards Shakspeare after
1642, when the theatres were suppressed, and the fanati¬
cal fervour in its noontide heat. Yet even then he did not
belie his reverence intellectually for Shakspeare ; and in his
younger days we know that he had spoken more enthusias¬
tically of Shakspeare than he ever did again of any unin¬
spired author. Not only did he address a sonnet to his me¬
mory, in which he declares that kings would wish to die, if
by dying they could obtain such a monument in the hearts
of men ; but he also speaks of him in his II Penseroso as
the tutelary genius of the English stage. In this transmis¬
sion of the torch (XafAwadotpogiu) Dryden succeeds to Mil-
ton ; he was born nearly thirty years later; about thirty
years they were contemporaries ; and by thirty years, or Shak-
nearly, Dryden survived his great leader. Dryden, in fact, speare.
lived out the seventeenth century. And we have now ar-
rived within nine years of the era when the critical editions
started in hot succession to one another. The names we have
mentioned were the great influential names of the century.
But of inferior homage there was no end. How came Bet¬
terton the actor, how came Davenant, how came Rowe, or
Pope, by their intense (if not always sound) admiration for
Shakspeare, unless they had found it fuming upwards like
incense to the Pagan deities in ancient times from altars
erected at every turning upon all the paths of men ?
But it is objected that inferior dramatists were sometimes
preferred to Shakspeare; and again, that vile travesties of
Shakspeare were preferred to the authentic dramas. As to
the first argument, let it be remembered, that if the saints
of the chapel are always in the same honour, because there
men are simply discharging a duty, which once due will be
due for ever; the saints of the theatre, on the other hand,
must bend to the local genius, and to the very reasons for
having a theatre at all. Men go thither for amusement:
this is the paramount purpose; and even acknowledged
merit or absolute superiority must give wray to it. Does
a man at Paris expect to see Moliere reproduced in pro¬
portion to his admitted precedency in the French drama ?
On the contrary, that very precedency argues such a fami¬
liarization with his works, that those who are in quest of re¬
laxation will reasonably prefer any recent drama to that
which, having lost all its novelty, has lost much of its ex¬
citement. We speak of ordinary minds; but in cases of
public entertainments, deriving part of their power from
scenery and stage pomp, novelty is for all minds an essen¬
tial condition of attraction. Moreover, in some departments
of the comic, Beaumont and Fletcher, when writing in com¬
bination, really had a freedom and breadth of manner which
excels the comedy of Shakspeare. As to the altered Shak¬
speare as taking precedency of the genuine Shakspeare, no
argument can be so frivolous. The public were never allow¬
ed a choice ; the great majority of an audience even now
cannot be expected to carry the real Shakspeare in their
mind, so as to pursue a comparison between that and the
alteration. Their comparisons must be exclusively amongst
what they have opportunities of seeing; that is, between
the various pieces presented to them by the managers of
theatres. Further than this it is impossible for them to ex¬
tend their office of judging and collating ; and the degene¬
rate taste which substituted the caprices of Davenant, the
rants of Dryden, or the filth of Tate, for the jewellery of
Shakspeare, cannot with any justice be charged upon the
public, not one in a thousand of w hom was furnished with
any means of comparing, but exclusively upon those (viz.
theatrical managers) who had the very amplest. Yet even
in excuse for them much may be said. The very length of
some plays compelled them to make alterations. The best
of Shakspeare’s dramas, King Lear, is the least fitted for
representation ; and, even for the vilest alteration, it ought
in candour to be considered that possession is nine points
of the law. He who would not have introduced, was often
obliged to retain.
Finally, it is urged, that the small number of editions
through which Shakspeare passed in the seventeenth cen¬
tury, furnishes a separate argument, and a conclusive one,
against his popularity. We answer, that, considering the
1 Perhaps the most bitter political enemy of Charles I. will have the candour to allow that, for a prince of those times, he was trulv
and eminently accomplished. His knowledge of the arts was considerable ; and, as a patron of art, he stands foremost amongst all
British sovereigns to this hour. He said truly of himself, and wisely as to the principle, that he understood English law as well
as a gentleman ought to understand it; meaning that an attorney’s minute knowledge of forms and technical niceties was illiberal.
Speaking of him as an author, we must remember that the Eikon Basilike is still unappropriated ; that question is still open. But
supposing the king’s claim negatived, still, in his controversy with Henderson, in his negotiations at the Isle of Wight and elsewhere,
he discovered a power of argument, a learning, and a strength of memory, which are truly admirable ; whilst the whole of his accom¬
plishments are recommended by a modesty and a humility as rare as they are unaffected.
VOL. XX.
K
SHAKSPEARE.
Shak- bulk of his plays collectively, the editions were not Jew:
speare. compared with any known case, the copies sold of Shak-
"~~v " gpeare were quite as many as could be expected under the
circumstances. Ten or fifteen times as much considera¬
tion went to the purchase of one great folio like Shakspeare,
as would attend the purchase of a little volume like Waller
or Donne. Without reviews, or newspapers, or advertise¬
ments to diffuse the knowledge of books, the progress of
literature was necessarily slow, and its expansion narrow.
But this is a topic which has always been treated unfairly,
not with regard to Shakspeare only, but to Milton, as well
as many others. The truth is, we have not facts enough
to guide us; for the number of editions often tells nothing
accurately as to the number of copies. With respect to
Shakspeare it is certain, that, had his masterpieces been
gathered into small volumes, Shakspeare would have had
a most extensive sale. As it was, there can be no doubt,
that from his own generation, throughout the seventeenth
century, and until the eighteenth began to accommodate,
not any greater popularity in him, but a greater taste for
reading in the public, his fame never ceased to be viewed
as a national trophy of honour; and the most illustrious
men of the seventeenth century were no whit less fervent
in their admiration than those of the eighteenth and the
nineteenth, either as respected its strength and sincerity,
or as respected its open profession.1
It is therefore a false notion, that the general sympathy
with the merits of Shakspeare ever beat with a languid or
intermitting pulse. Undoubtedly, in tirries when the func¬
tions of critical journals and of newspapers were not at hand
to diffuse or to strengthen the impressions which emanated
from the capital, all opinions must have travelled slowly
into the provinces. But even then, whilst the perfect or¬
gans of communication were wanting, indirect substitutes
were supplied by the necessities of the times, or by the in¬
stincts of political zeal. Two channels especially lay open
between the great central organ of the national mind, and Shak-
the remotest provinces. Parliaments were occasionally^;
summoned (for the judges’ circuits were too brief to pro¬
duce much effect); and during their longest suspensions,
the nobility, with large retinues, continually resorted to the
court. But an intercourse more constant and more com¬
prehensive was maintained through the agency of the two
universities. Already, in the time of James I., the growing
importance of the gentry, and the consequent birth of a
new interest in political questions, had begun to express it¬
self at Oxford, and still more so at Cambridge. Academic
persons stationed themselves as sentinels at London, for the
purpose of watching the court and the course of public af¬
fairs. These persons wrote letters, like those of the cele¬
brated Joseph Mede, which we find in Ellis’s Historical
Collections, reporting to their fellow-collegians all the no¬
velties of public life as they arose, or personally carried
down such reports, and thus conducted the general feelings
at the centre into lesser centres, from which again they
were diffused into the ten thousand parishes of England ;
for (with a very few exceptions in favour of poor benefices,
Welch or Cumbrian), every parish priest must unavoidably
have spent his three years at one or other of the English
universities. And by this mode of diffusion it is that we
can explain the strength with which Shakspeare’s thoughts
and diction impressed themselves from a very early period
upon the national literature, and even more generally upon
the national thinking and conversation.2
The question therefore revolves upon us in threefold dif¬
ficulty, How, having stepped thus prematurely into this in¬
heritance of fame, leaping, as it were, thus abruptly into
the favour alike of princes and the enemies of princes, had
it become possible that in his native place (honoured still
more in the final testimonies of his preference when found¬
ing a family mansion), such a man’s history, and the per¬
sonal recollections which cling so affectionately to the great
i The necessity of compression obliges us to omit many arguments and references by which we could demonstrate the fact, that
Shaksneare’s reputation was always in a progressive state ; allowing only for the interruption of about seventeen years, whic t is
noet in common with all others, sustained, not so much from the state of war (which did not fully occupy four of those years), as from
the triumph of a gloomy fanaticism. Deduct the twenty-three years of the seventeenth century which had elapsed before the
first folio appeared, to this space add seventeen years of fanatical madness, during fourteen of which dramatic entertainments were
sunnressedThe remainder is sixty years. And surely the sale of four editions of a vast folio in that space of time was an expres-
sion'of an abidins interest. No other poet, except Spenser, continued to sell throughout the century. Besides, in arguing the case of a
riaL poetl we must bear in mind, that although readers of learned books might be diffused over the face of the land the readers
of poetry would be chiefly concentred in the metropolis; and such persons would have no need to buy what they heard at the
theatres.7 But then comes the question, whether Shakspeare kept possession of the theatres. And we are really humiliated by the
gross want of sense which has been shown, by Malone chiefly, but also by many others, in discussing this question. * iom the Re-
storation to 1682 says Malone, no more than four plays of Shakspeare’s were performed by a principal company in London. Such
was the lamentable taste of those times, that the plays of Fletcher, Jonson, and Shirley, were much oftener exhibited than those of
our autho^’ What cant is this ! If that taste were “ lamentable,” what are we to think of our own times, when plays a thousand
times below those of Fletcher, or even of Shirley, continually displace Shakspeare ? Shakspeare would himself have exulted in find,
incr that he gave way only to dramatists so excellent. And, as we have before observed, both then and now, it is the very familiarity
wUh Shakspeare which often banishes him from audiences honestly in quest of relaxation and amusement. Novelty is the very soul
of such relaxation ; but in our closets, when we are not unbending, when our minds are in a state of tension from intellectual cravings,
then R is that we resort to Shakspeare ; and oftentimes those who honour him most, like ourselves, are the most impatient of seeing
his divine scenes disfigured bv unequal representation (good, perhaps, in a single personation, bad in all the rest); or to hear his
d vine thoughts mangfed in the recitation ; or (which is worst of all) to hear them dishonoured and defeated by imperfect apprehen¬
sion in the fudience, or by defective sympathy. Meantime, if one theatre played only four of Shakspeare s dramas another played
at "east seven. Bu the grossest folly of Malone is, in fancying the numerous alterations so many insults to Shakspeare whereas
they expressed as much homage to his memory as if the unaltered dramas had been retained The substance ^ retained. The
changes were merelv concessions to the changing views of scenical propriety; sometimes, no doubt, made with a simple view to the
revolution6effected by Davenant at the restoration, in bringing (in the painter s sense) upon the stage; sometimes also with
I vLw to the altered fashions of the audience during the suspensions of the action, or perhaps to the in reduction of after-p. ccs,
bv which of course, the time was abridged for the main performance. A volume might be written upon this subject. Mean nne
let usnever be" told that a poet was losing, or had lost his ground, who found in his lowest depression, amongst his almost idola¬
trous supporters a Vreat king distracted by civil wars, a mighty republican poet distracted by puritanical fanaticism, the greatest
successmby far of that great poet, a papist and a bigoted royalist, and finally, the leading actor of the century, who gave and re-
^8*1T)n'e'of"the‘profoundest"tests which we can measure the congeniality of an author with the national genius and temper, is the
degree in which his thoughts or his phrases interweave themselves with our daily conversation, and pass into the currency of the
language. Fe-w French authors if any, have imparted one phrase to the colloquial idiom ; with respect to bhakspeare, a large dictionary might
be made of such phrases as “win golden opinions,” “ in my mind’s eye,” “ patience on a monument, o erstep the modesty of
nature ” “ more honour'd in the breach than in the observance,” “ palmy state,” “ my poverty and not my will consents,’ and so
forth, without end. This reinforcement of the general language, by aids from the mintage of Shakspeare, had already commenced in
the seventeenth century.
SHAKSPEARE.
75
Shak-
speare.
intellectual potentates who have recommended themselves
by gracious manners, could so soon and so utterly have
been obliterated ?
Malone, with childish irreflection, ascribes the loss of
such memorials to the want of enthusiasm in his admirers.
Local researches into private history had not then com¬
menced. Such a taste, often petty enough in its manage¬
ment, was the growth of after-ages. Else how came Spen¬
ser’s life and fortunes to be so utterly overwhelmed in ob¬
livion ? No poet of a high order could be more popular.
The answer we believe to be this: Twenty-six years after
Shakspeare’s death commenced the great parliamentary war:
this it was, and the local feuds arising to divide family from
family, brother from brother, upon which we must charge
the extinction of traditions and memorials, doubtless abun-
lant up to that era. The parliamentary contest, it will be
said, did not last above three years; the king’s standard
having been first raised at Nottingham in August 1642,
and the battle of Naseby (which terminated the open war¬
fare) having been fought in June 1645. Or even if we ex¬
tend its duration to the surrender of the last garrison, that
war terminated in the spring of 1646. And the brief explo¬
sions of insurrection or of Scottish invasion which occurred
on subsequent occasions were all locally confined ; and none
came near to Warwickshire, except the battle of Worcester,
more than five years after. This is true; but a short war will
do much to efface recent and merely personal memorials.
And the following circumstances of the war were even more
important than the general fact.
First of all, the very mansion founded by Shakspeare be¬
came the military head-quarters for the queen in 1644, when
marching from the eastern coast of England to join the king
in Oxford; and one such special visitation would be likely
to do more serious mischief in the way of extinction, than
many years of general warfare. Secondly, as a fact, perhaps,
equally important, Birmingham, the chief town of Warwick¬
shire, and the adjacent district, the seat of our hardware ma¬
nufactures, was the very focus of disaffection towards the
royal cause. Not only, therefore, would this wEole region
suffer more from internal and spontaneous agitation, but
it would be the more frequently traversed vindictively from
without, and harassed by flying parties from Oxford, or
others of the king’s garrisons. Thirdly, even apart from the
political aspects of Warwickshire, this county happens to be
the central one of England, as regards the roads between
the north and south; and Birmingham has long been the
great central axis,1 in which all the radii from the four
angles of England proper meet and intersect. Mere acci¬
dent, therefore, of local position, much more when united
with that avowed inveteracy of malignant feeling, wEich
was bitter enough to rouse a re-action of bitterness in the
mind of Lord Clarendon, would go far to account for the
wreck of many memorials relating to Shakspeare, as w ell
as for the subversion of that quiet and security for humble
life, in which the traditional memory finds its best nidus.
Thus we obtain one solution, and perhaps the main one,
of the otherwise mysterious oblivion which had swept away
all traces of the mighty poet, by the time when those
quiet days revolved upon England, in which again the so¬
litary agent of learned research might roam in security
from house to house, gleaning those personal remembran¬
ces which, even in the fury of civil strife, might long have
lingered by the chimney corner. But the fierce furnace
of war had probably, by its local ravages, scorched this
field of natural tradition, and thinned the gleaner’s inheri¬
tance by three parts out of four. This, we repeat, may
be one part of the solution to this difficult problem.
And if another is still demanded, possibly it may be found
in the fact, hostile to the perfect consecration of Shakspeare’s
memory, that after all he was a player. Many a coarse-mind- '
ed country gentleman, or village pastor, who would have
held his town glorified by the distinction of having sent forth
a great judge or an eminent bishop, might disdain to cherish
the personal recollections which surrounded one whom cus¬
tom regarded as little above a mountebank, and the illiberal
law as a vagabond. The same degrading appreciation at¬
tached both to the actor in plays and to their author. The
contemptuous appellation of “ play book,” served as readily
to degrade the mighty volume which contained Lear and
Hamlet, as that of “ play-actor,” or “ player-man,” has al¬
ways served with the illiberal or the fanatical to dishonour
the persons of Roscius or of Garrick, of Talma or of Sid-
dons. Nobody, indeed, was better aware of this than the
noble-minded Shakspeare ; and feelingly he has breathed
forth in his sonnets this conscious oppression under which
he lay of public opinion, unfavourable by a double title to
his own pretensions; for, being both dramatic author and
dramatic performer, he found himself heir to a two-fold op¬
probrium, and at an era of English society when the w’eight
of that opprobrium was heaviest. In reality, there was at
this period a collision of forces acting in opposite directions
upon the estimation of the stage and scenical art, and there¬
fore ot all the ministers in its equipage. Puritanism frowned
upon these pursuits, as ruinous to public morals; on the
other hand, loyalty could not but tolerate what was patro¬
nized by the sovereign; and it happened that Elizabeth,
James, and Charles I., were all alike lovers and promoters
of theatrical amusements, which were indeed more indis¬
pensable to the relief of court ceremony, and the monotony
of aulic pomp, than in any other region of life. This royal
support, and the consciousness that any brilliant success in
these arts implied an unusual share of natural endowments,
did something in mitigation of a scorn which must else have
been intolerable to all generous natures.
But whatever prejudice might thus operate against the
perfect sanctity of Shakspeare’s posthumous reputation, it
is certain that the splendour of his worldly success must
have done much to obliterate that effect; his admirable col¬
loquial talents a good deal, and his gracious affability still
more. Che wonder therefore will still remain, that Better-
ton, in less than a century from his death, should have
been able to glean so little. And for the solution of this
wonder we must throw ourselves chiefly upon the expla¬
nations we have made as to the parliamentary war, and
the local ravages of its progress in the very district, of the
very town, and the very house.
If further arguments are still wanted to explain this mys¬
terious abolition, we may refer the reader to the following
succession of disastrous events, by which it should seem
that a perfect malice of misfortune pursued the vestiges of
the mighty poet’s steps. In 1613, the Globe theatre, with
which he had been so long connected, was burned to the
ground. Soon afterwards a great fire occurred in Stratford ;
and next (without counting upon the fire of London, just
fifty years after his death, which, however, would consume
many an important record from periods far more remote),
the house of Ben Jonson, in which probably, as Mr Camp¬
bell suggests, might be parts of his correspondence, was
also burned. Finally, there was an old tradition that Lady
Barnard, the sole grand-daughter of Shakspeare, had carried
off many of his papers from Stratford; and these papers have
never since been traced.
In many of the elder lives it has been asserted, that
John Shakspeare, the father of the poet, was a butcher,
Shak¬
speare.
1 *n-JkCt’ ^ Wa^ °f rePresenting to himself the system or scheme of the English roads, the reader has only to imagine one great
.e 1^1, °r- a. S'-jAn(h'ew’s cross> laid down from north to south, and decussating at Birmingham. Even Coventry, which makes
a s igi variation for one or two roads, and so far disturbs this decussation, by shifting it eastwards, is still in Warwickshire.
76
SHAKSPEARE.
Shak-
speare.
and in others that he was a woolstapler. It is now settled
beyond dispute that he was a glover. This was his pro¬
fessed occupation in Stratford, though it is certain that,
with this leading trade, from which he took his denomina¬
tion, he combined some collateral pursuits ; and it is possi¬
ble enough that, as openings offered, he may have meddled
with many. In that age, and in a provincial town, nothing
like the exquisite subdivision of labour was attempted which
we now see realized in the great cities of Christendom.
4nd one trade is often found to play into another with so
much reciprocal advantage, that even in our own days we
do not much wonder at an enterprising man, in country
places, who combines several in his own person. Accord¬
ingly John Shakspeare is known to have united with his
town calling the rural and miscellaneous occupations of a
farmer.
Meantime his avowed business stood upon a very differ¬
ent footing from the same trade as it is exercised in mo¬
dern times. Gloves were in that age an article of dress
more costly by much, and more elaborately decorated,
than in our own. They were a customary present from
some cities to the judges of assize, and to other official per¬
sons ; a custom of ancient standing, and in some places, we
believe, still subsisting; and in such cases it is reasonable
to suppose that the gloves must originally have been more
valuable than the trivial modern article of the same name.
So also, perhaps, in their origin, of the gloves given at fu¬
nerals. In reality, whenever the simplicity of an age makes
it difficult to renew the parts of a wardrobe except in capi¬
tal towns of difficult access, prudence suggests that such
wares should be manufactured of more durable materials ;
and, being so, they become obviously susceptible of more
lavish ornament. But it will not follow, from this essential
difference in the gloves of Shakspeare’s age, that the glo¬
ver’s occupation was more lucrative. Doubtless he sold
more costly gloves, and upon each pair had a larger profit;
but for that very reason he sold fewer. Two or three gen¬
tlemen “ of worship” in the neighbourhood might occa¬
sionally require a pair of gloves, but it is very doubtful
whether any inhabitant of Stratford would ever call for so
mere a luxury.
The practical result, at all events, of John Shakspeare’s
various pursuits does not appear permanently to have met
the demands of his establishment; and in his maturer years
there are indications still surviving that he was under a
cloud of embarrassment. He certainly lost at one time
his social position in the town of Stratford; but there is a
strong presumption, in our construction of the case, that
he finally retrieved it; and for this retrieval of a station
which he had forfeited by personal misfortunes or neglect,
he was altogether indebted to the filial piety of his immor¬
tal son.
Meantime the earlier years of the elder Shakspeare wore
the aspect of rising prosperity, however unsound might be
the basis on which it rested. There can be little doubt
that William Shakspeare, from his birth up to his tenth or
perhaps his eleventh year, lived in careless plenty, and saw
nothing in his father’s house but that style of liberal house¬
keeping which has ever distinguished the upper yeomanry
and the rural gentry of England. Probable enough it is
that the resources for meeting this liberality were not strict¬
ly commensurate with the family income, but were some¬
times allowed to entrench, by means of loans or mortgages,
upon capital funds. The stress upon the family finances
was perhaps at times severe ; and that it was borne at all,
must be imputed to the large and even splendid portion
which John Shakspeare received with his wife.
This lady, for such she really was in an eminent sense,
by birth as well as by connections, bore the beautiful name ^
of Mary Arden, a name derived from the ancient forest ^
district1 of the county ; and doubtless she merits a more ela¬
borate notice than our slender materials will furnish. To
have been the mother of Shakspeare,—how august a title to
the reverence of infinite generations, and of centuries be¬
yond the vision of prophecy. A plausible hypothesis has
been started in modern times, that the facial structure, and
that the intellectual conformation, may be deduced more
frequently from the corresponding characteristics in the
mother than in the father. It is certain that no very great
man has ever existed, but that his greatness has been re¬
hearsed and predicted in one or other of his parents. And
it cannot be denied, that in the most eminent men, where
we have had the means of pursuing the investigation, the
mother has more frequently been repeated and reproduced
than the father. We have known cases where the mother
has furnished all the intellect, and the father all the moral
sensibility ; upon which assumption, the wonder ceases that
Cicero, Lord Chesterfield, and other brilliant men, who
took the utmost pains with their sons, should have failed so
conspicuously; for possibly the mothers had been women
of excessive and even exemplary stupidity. In the case of
Shakspeare, each parent, if we had any means of recover¬
ing their characteristics, could not fail to furnish a study
of the most profound interest; and with regard to his mo¬
ther in particular, if the modern hypothesis be true, and if
we are indeed to deduce from her the stupendous intellect
of her son, in that case she must have been a benefactress
to her husband’s family beyond the promises of fairyland or
the dreams of romance ; for it is certain that to her chiefly
this family was also indebted for their worldly comfort.
Mary Arden was the youngest daughter and the heiress
of Robert Arden of Wilmecote, Esq. in the county of War¬
wick. The family of Arden was even then of great anti¬
quity. About one century and a quarter before the birth
of William Shakspeare, a person bearing the same name
as his maternal grandfather had been returned by the
commissioners in their list of the Warwickshire gentry ; he
was there styled Robert Arden, Esq. of Bromich. This
was in 1433, or the 12th year of Henry VI. In Henry
VII.’s reign, the Ardens received a grant of lands from
the crown ; and in 1568, four years after the birth of
William Shakspeare, Edward Arden, of the same family,
was sheriff of the county. Mary Arden was therefore a
young lady of excellent descent and connections, and an
heiress of considerable wealth. She brought to her hus¬
band, as her marriage portion, the landed estate of As-
bies, which, upon any just valuation, must be considered as
a handsome dowry for a woman of her station. As this point
has been contested, and as it goes a great way towards de¬
termining the exact social position of the poet’s parents,
let us be excused for sifting it a little more narrowly than
might else seem warranted by the proportions of our pre¬
sent life. Every question which it can be reasonable to
raise at all, it must be reasonable to treat with at least so
much of minute research as may justify the conclusions
which it is made to support.
The estate of Asbies contained fifty acres of arable land,
six of meadow, and a right of commonage. What may we
assume to have been the value of its fee-simple ? Malone,
who allows the total fortune of Mary Arden to have been
L.110. 13s. 4d., is sure that the value of Asbies could not
have been more than one hundred pounds. But why ? Be¬
cause, says he, the “ average” rent of land at that time was
no more than three shillings per acre. This we deny; but
Shak¬
speare.
1 And probably so called by some remote ancestor who had emigrated from the forest of Ardennes, in the Netherlands, and now
for ever memorable to English ears from its proximity to Waterloo.
S H A K S
Shak- upon that assumption, the total yearly rent of fifty-six
speare. acres would be exactly eight guineas.1 And therefore, in
“,~~Y assigning the value of Asbies at one hundred pounds, it
appears that Malone must have estimated the land at no
more than twelve years’ purchase, which would carry the
value to L.100. 16s. “ Even at this estimate,” as the latest
annotator2 on this subject observes, “ Mary Arden’s
portion was a larger one than was usually given to a land¬
ed gentleman’s daughter.” But this writer objects to Ma¬
lone’s principle of valuation. “We find,” says he, “ that
John Shakspeare also farmed the meadow of Tugton, con¬
taining sixteen acres, at the rate of eleven shillings per
acre. Now what proof has Mr Malone adduced that the
acres of Asbies were not as valuable as those of Tug-
on ? And if they were so, the former estate must have
been worth between three and four hundred pounds.” In
the main drift of his objections we concur with Mr Camp¬
bell. But as they are liable to some criticism, let us clear
the ground of all plausible cavils, and then see what will be
the result. Malone, had he been alive, would probably
have answered, that Tugton was a farm specially privileged
by nature ; and that if any man contended for so unusual
a rent as eleven shillings an acre for land not known to
him, the onus probandi would lie upon him. Be it so;
eleven shillings is certainly above the ordinary level of
rent, but three shillings is below it. We contend, that for
tolerably good land, situated advantageously, that is, with
a ready access to good markets and good fairs, such as
those of Coventry, Birmingham, Gloucester, Worcester,
Shrewsbury, &c., one noble might be assumed as the an¬
nual rent; and that in such situations twenty years’ pur¬
chase was not a valuation, even in Elizabeth’s reign, very
unusual. Let us, however, assume the rent at only five
shillings, and land at sixteen years’ purchase: upon this
basis, the rent would be L.14, and the value of the fee-
simple L.224. Now, if it were required to equate that sum
with its present value, a very operose3 calculation might be
requisite. But contenting ourselves with the gross me¬
thod of making such equations between 1560 and the cur¬
rent century, that is, multiplying by five, we shall find the
capital value of the estate to be eleven hundred and twen¬
ty pounds, whilst the annual rent would be exactly seven¬
ty. But if the estate had been sold, and the purchase-
money lent upon mortgage (the only safe mode of invest¬
ing money at that time), the annual interest would have
reached L.28, equal to L.140 of modem money ; for mort¬
gages in Elizabeth’s age readily produced ten per cent.
A woman who should bring at this day an annual income
of L.140 to a provincial tradesman, living in a sort of rus in
urbe, according to the simple fashions of rustic life, would
assuredly be considered as an excellent match. And there
can be little doubt that Mary Arden’s dowry it was which,
for some ten or a dozen years succeeding to his marriage,
raised her husband to so much social consideration in Strat-
PEAR E. 77
ford. In 1550 John Shakspeare is supposed to nave first Shak-
settled in Stratford, having migrated from some other part speare.
of Warwickshire. In 1557 he married Mary Arden; in
1565, the year subsequent to the birth of his son William
his third child, he was elected one of the aldermen ; and in
the year 1568 he became first magistrate of the town, by
the title of high bailiff. This year we may assume to have
been that in which the prosperity of this family reached its
zenith ; for in this year it was, over and above the presump¬
tions furnished by his civic honours, that he obtained a
grant of arms from Clarencieux of the Heralds’ College.
On this occasion he declared himself worth five hundred
pounds derived from his ancestors. And we really cannot
understand the right by which critics, living nearly three
centuries from his time, undertake to know his affairs bet¬
ter than himself, and to tax him with either inaccuracy or
falsehood. No man woidd be at leisure to court heraldic
honours when he knew himself to be embarrassed, or ap¬
prehended that he soon might be so. A man whose anxie¬
ties had been fixed at all upon his daily livelihood would,
by this chase after the aerial honours of heraldry, have
made himself a butt for ridicule such as no fortitude could
enable him to sustain.
In 1568, therefore, when his son William would be mov¬
ing through his fifth year, John Shakspeare (now honour¬
ed by the designation of Master) would be found at times
in the society of the neighbouring gentry. Ten years in
advance of this period he was already in difficulties. But
there is no proof that these difficulties had then reached a
point of degradation, or of memorable distress. The sole
positive indications of his decaying condition are, that in
1578 he received an exemption from the small weekly as¬
sessment levied upon the aldermen of Stratford for the re¬
lief of the poor; and that in the following year, 1579, he
is found enrolled amongst the defaulters in the payment of
taxes. The latter fact undoubtedly goes to prove that, like
every man who is falling back in the world, he was occa¬
sionally in arrears. Paying taxes is not like the honours
awarded or the processions regulated by Clarencieux ; no
man is ambitious of precedency there; and if a laggard
pace in that duty is to be received as evidence of pauper¬
ism, nine tenths of the English people might occasionally
be classed as paupers. With respect to his liberation from
the weekly assessment, that may bear a construction dif¬
ferent from the one which it has received. This payment,
which could nevei have been regarded as a burthen, not
amounting to five pounds annually of our present money,
may have been held up as an exponent of wealth and con¬
sideration; and John Shakspeare may have been required
to resign it as an honourable distinction, not suitable to the
circumstances of an embarrassed man. Finally, the fact of
his being indebted to Robert Sadler, a baker, in the sum
of five pounds, and his being under the necessity of bring¬
ing a friend as security for the payment, proves nothing at
1 Let not the reader impute to us the gross anachronism of making an estimate fox Shakspeare’s days in a coin which did not exist
until a century, within a couple of years, after Shakspeare’s birth, and did not settle to the value of twenty-one shillings until a century
after his death. The nerve of such an anachronism would lie in putting the estimate into a mouth of that age. And this is precisely
the blunder into which the foolish forger of Yortigern, &c. has fallen. He does not indeed directly mention guineas ; but indirectly
and virtually he does, by repeatedly giving us accounts imputed to Shakspearian contemporaries, in which the sum-total amounts to
L.5. 5s.; or to L.26. 5s.; or, again, to L.17- 17s. 6d. A man is careful to subscribe L.14. 14s. and so forth. But how could such
amounts have arisen unless under a secret reference to guineas, which were not in existence until Charles II.’s reign ; and, moreover,
to guineas at their final settlement by law into twenty-one shillings each, which did not take place until George I.’s reign.
2 Thomas Campbell the poet, in his eloquent Remarks on the Life and Writings of William Shakspeare, prefixed to a popular
edition of the poet’s dramatic works. London, 1838.
3 After all the assistance given to such equations between different times or different places by Sir George Shuckborough’s tables,
and other similar investigations, it is still a very difficult problem, complex, and, after all, merely tentative in the results, to assign
the true value in such cases; not only for the obvious reason, that the powers of money have varied in different directions with
regard to different objects, and in different degrees where the directien has on the whole continued the same, but because the very
objects to be taken into computation are so indeterminate, and vary so much, not only as regards century and century, kingdom and
kingdom, but also, even in the same century and the same kingdom, as regards rank and rank. That which is a mere necessary to
one, is a luxurious superfluity to another. And, in order to ascertain these differences, it is an indispensable qualification to have
studied the habits and customs of the several classes concerned, together with the variations of those habits and cust oms.
78 S H A K S
Shak- all. There is not a town in Europe in which opulent men
speare. cannot be found that are backward in the payment of their
      debts. And the probability is, that Master Sadler acted
like most people who, when they suppose a man to be
going down in the world, feel their respect for him sen-
sibly decaying, and think it wise to trample him under foot,
provided only in that act of trampling they can squeeze out
of him their own individual debt. Like that terrific chorus
in Spohr’s oratorio of St Paul, “ stone him to death” is the
cry of the selfish and the illiberal amongst creditors, alike
towards the just and the unjust amongst debtors.
It was the wise and beautiful prayer of Agar, “ Give me
neither poverty nor richesand, doubtless, for quiet, for
peace, and the latentis semila vitce, that is the happiest dis¬
pensation. But, perhaps, with a view to a school of disci¬
pline and of moral fortitude, it might be a more salutary
prayer, “ Give me riches and poverty, and afterwards nei¬
ther.” For the transitional state between riches and po¬
verty will teach a lesson both as to the baseness and the
goodness of human nature, and will impress that lesson with
a searching force, such as no borrowed experience ever can
approach. Most probable it is that Shakspeare drew some
of his powerful scenes in the Timon of Athens, those
which exhibit the vileness of ingratitude and the impas¬
sioned frenzy of misanthropy, from his personal recollec¬
tions connected with the case of his own father. Possibly,
though a cloud of 270 years now veils it, this very Master
Sadler, who was so urgent for his five pounds, and who so
little apprehended that he should be called over the coals
for it in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, may have sate for the
portrait of that Lucullus who says of Timon—
Alas, good lord! a noble gentle¬
man ’tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and
often I have dined with him, and told him on’t; and come again to
supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less: and yet he would
embrace no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every man
has his fault, and honesty is his; I have told him on’t, but I could
never get him from it.
For certain years, perhaps, John Shakspeare moved on
in darkness and sorrow :
His familiars from his buried fortunes
Slunk all away; left their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick’d: and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn’d poverty,
Walk’d, like contempt, alone.
We, however, at this day are chiefly interested in the
case as it bears upon the education and youthful happiness
of the poet. Now if we suppose that from 1568, the high
noon of the family prosperity, to 1578, the first year of
their mature embarrassments, one half the interval was
passed in stationary sunshine, and the latter half in the gra¬
dual twilight of declension, it will follow that the young
William had completed his tenth year before he heard the
first signals of distress; and for so long a period his edu¬
cation would probably be conducted on as liberal a scale as
the resources of Stratford would allow. Through this earli¬
est section of his life he would undoubtedly rank as a gen¬
tleman’s son, possibly as the leader of his class, in Stratford.
But what rank he held through the next ten years, or, more
generally, what was the standing in society of Shakspeare
until he had created a new station for himself by his own
exertions in the metropolis, is a question yet unsettled, but
which has been debated as keenly as if it had some great
dependencies. Upon this we shall observe, that could we
by possibility be called to settle beforehand what rank were
best for favouring the development of intellectual powers,
the question might wear a face of deep practical import¬
ance ; but when the question is simply as to a matter of
fact, what was the rank held by a man whose intellectual
development has long ago been completed, this becomes a
P E A R E.
mere question of curiosity. The tree has fallen ; it is con- Shak-
fessedly the noblest of all the forest; and we must there- v speare.
fore conclude that the soil in which it flourished was either
the best possible, or, if not so, that any thing bad in its pro¬
perties had been disarmed and neutralized by the vital
forces of the plant, or by the benignity of nature. If any
future Shakspeare were likely to arise, it might be a pro¬
blem of great interest to agitate, whether the condition of
a poor man or of a gentleman were best fitted to nurse and
stimulate his faculties. But for the actual Shakspeare, since
what he was he was, and since nothing greater can be ima¬
gined, it is now become a matter of little moment whether
his course lay for fifteen or twenty years through the hu¬
milities of absolute poverty, or through the chequered paths
of gentry lying in the shade. Whatever was, must, in this
case at least, have been the best, since it terminated in pro¬
ducing Shakspeare ; and thus far we must all be optimists.
Yet still, it will be urged, the curiosity is not illiberal
which would seek to ascertain the precise career through
which Shakspeare ran. This we readily concede ; and we
are anxious ourselves to contribute any thing in our power
to the settlement of a point so obscure. What we have
wished to protest against is the spirit of partisanship in
which this question has too generally been discussed. For,
whilst some with a foolish affectation of plebeian sympathies
overwhelm us with the insipid commonplaces about birth
and ancient descent, as honours containing nothing merito¬
rious, and rush eagerly into an ostentatious exhibition of all
the circumstances which favour the notion of a humble sta¬
tion and humble connections ; others, with equal forgetful¬
ness of true dignity, plead with the intemperance and par¬
tiality of a legal advocate for the pretensions of Shakspeare
to the hereditary rank of gentleman. Both parties violate
the majesty of the subject. When wre are seeking for the
sources of the Euphrates or the St Lawrence, wre look for
no proportions to the mighty volume of w aters in that par¬
ticular summit amongst the chain of mountains which em¬
bosoms its earliest fountains, nor are we shocked at the
obscurity of these fountains. Pursuing the career of Ma-
hommed, or of any man who has memorably impressed his
own mind or agency upon the revolutions of mankind, we
feel solicitude about the circumstances which might sur¬
round his cradle to be altogether unseasonable and imperti¬
nent. Whether he were born in a hovel or a palace, whe¬
ther he passed his infancy in squalid poverty, or hedged
around by the glittering spears of body-guards, as mere
questions of fact may be interesting; but, in the light of
either accessories or counteragencies to the native majesty
of the subject, are trivial and below all philosophic valuation.
So with regard to the creator of Lear and Hamlet, of Othel¬
lo and Macbeth; to him from whose golden urns the na¬
tions beyond the far Atlantic, the multitude of the isles,
and the generations unborn in Australian climes, even to
the realms ot the rising sun (the dvaroXa/ feXioio), must in
every age draw perennial streams of intellectual life, we feel
that the little accidents of birth and social condition are so
unspeakably below the grandeur of the theme, are so irrele¬
vant and disproportioned to the real interest at issue, so in¬
commensurable with any of its relations, that a biographer
of Shakspeare at once denounces himself as below his sub¬
ject if he can entertain such a question as seriously affecting
the glory of the poet. In some legends of saints, we find
that they were born with a lambent circle or golden aureola
about their heads. This angelic coronet shed light alike upon
the chambers of a cottage or a palace, upon the gloomy limits
of a dungeon or the vast expansion of a cathedral; but the
cottage, the palace, the dungeon, the cathedral, were all
equally incapable of adding one ray of colour or one pencil
of light to the supernatural halo.
Having therefore thus pointedly guarded ourselves from
misconstruction, and consenting to entertain the question
SHAKSPEARE.
79
Skak- as one in which we, the worshippers of Shakspeare, have an
speare. interest of curiosity, but in which he, the object of our wor-
''~v ^ ship, has no interest of glory, we proceed to state what ap¬
pears to us the result of the scanty facts surviving when
collated with each other.
By his mother’s side, Shakspeare was an authentic gen¬
tleman. By his father’s he would have stood in a more
dubious position ; but the effect of municipal honours to
raise and illustrate an equivocal rank has always been ac¬
knowledged under the popular tendencies of our English
political system. From the sort of lead, therefore, which
John Shakspeare took at one time amongst his fellow-towns¬
men, and from his rank of first magistrate, we may pre¬
sume that, about the year 1568, he had placed himself at
the head of the Stratford community. Afterwards he con¬
tinued for some years to descend from this altitude; and
the question is, at what point this gradual degradation may
be supposed to have settled. Now we shall avow it as our
opinion, that the composition of society in Stratford was
such that, even had the Shakspeare family maintained their
superiority, the main body of their daily associates must
still have been found amongst persons below the rank of
gentry. The poet must inevitably have mixed chiefly
with mechanics and humble tradesmen, for such people
composed perhaps the total community. But had there
even been a gentry in Stratford, since they would have
marked the distinctions of their rank chiefly by greater re¬
serve of manners, it is probable that, after all, Shakspeare,
with his enormity of delight in exhibitions of human na¬
ture, would have mostly cultivated that class of society in
which the feelings are more elementary and simple, in
which the thoughts speak a plainer language, and in which
the restraints of factitious or conventional decorum are ex¬
changed for the restraints of mere sexual decency. It is a
noticeable fact to all who have looked upon human life with
an eye of strict attention, that the abstract image of •wo¬
manhood, in its loveliness, its delicacy, and its modesty,
nowhere makes itself more impressive or more advanta¬
geously felt than in the humblest cottages, because it is
there brought into immediate juxtaposition with the gross¬
ness of manners and the careless license of language inci¬
dent to the fathers and brothers of the house. And this is
more especially true in a nation of unaffected sexual gal¬
lantry,1 such as the English and the Gothic races in gene¬
ral ; since, under the immunity which their women enjoy
from all servile labours of a coarse or out-of-doors order, by
as much lower as they descend in the scale of rank, by so
much more do they benefit under the force of contrast with
the men of their own level. A young man of that class,
however noble in appearance, is somewhat degraded in the
eyes of women, by the necessity which his indigence im¬
poses of working under a master; but a beautiful young
woman, in the very poorest family, unless she enters upon
a life of domestic servitude (in which case her labours are
light, suited to her sex, and withdrawn from the public eye),s
so long in fact as she stays under her father’s roof, is as per¬
fectly her own mistress and sui juris as the daughter of an
earl. This personal dignity, brought into stronger relief by
the mercenary employments of her male connections, and
the feminine gentleness of her voice and manners, exhibit¬
ed under the same advantages of contrast, oftentimes com¬
bine to make a young cottage beauty as fascinating an ob¬
ject as any woman of any station.
Hence we may in part account for the great event of
Shakspeare’s early manhood, his premature marriage. It
has always been known, or at least traditionally received for
a fact, that Shakspeare had married whilst yet a boy; and
that his wife was unaccountably older than himself. In the
very earliest biographical sketch of the poet, compiled by
Rowe, from materials collected by Betterton the actor, it
was stated (and that statement is now ascertained to have
been correct), that he had married Anne Hathaway, “ the
daughter of a substantial yeoman.” Further than this no¬
thing wras known. But in September 1836 was published a
very remarkable document, which gives the assurance of
law to the time and fact of this event, yet still, unless col¬
lated with another record, does nothing to lessen the mys¬
tery which had previously surrounded its circumstances.
This document consists of two parts : the first, and princi¬
pal, according to the logic of the case, though second ac¬
cording to the arrangement, being a license for the marriage
of William Shakspeare with Anne Hathaway, under the
condition “ of once asking of the bannes of matrimony,”
that is, in effect, dispensing with two out of the three cus¬
tomary askings ; the second or subordinate part of the do¬
cument being a bond entered into by two sureties, viz. Fulke
Sandells and John Rychardson, both described as agricolce
or yeomen, and both marksmen (that is, incapable of writing,
and therefore subscribing by means of marks'), for the pay¬
ment of forty pounds sterling, in the event of Shakspeare,
yet a minor, and incapable of binding himself, failing to
fulfil the conditions of the license. In the bond, drawn up
in Latin, there is no mention of Shakspeare’s name ; but in
the license, which is altogether English, his name, of course,
stands foremost ; and as it may gratify the reader to see
the very words and orthography of the original, we here
extract the operative part of this document, prefacing only,
that the license is attached by way of explanation to the
bond. “ The condition of this obligation is suche, that if
herafter there shall not appere any lawfull lett or impediment,
by reason of any precontract, &c., but that Willm. Shag-
spere, one thone ptie” [on the one party], “ and Anne
Hathwey of Stratford, in the diocess of Worcester, maiden,
may lawfully solemnize matrimony together; and in the
Shak-
speare.
1 Never was the esse quam videri in any point more strongly discriminated than in this very point of gallantry to the female sex,
as between England and France. In France, the verbal homage to woman is so excessive as to betray its real purpose, viz. that
it is a mask for secret contempt. In England, little is said; but, in the mean time, we allow our sovereign ruler to be a woman ;
which in France is impossible. Even that fact is of some importance, but less so than what follows. In every country whatso¬
ever, if any principle has a deep root in the moral feelings of the people, we may rely upon its showing itself, by a thousand evi¬
dences, amongst the very lowest ranks, and in their daily intercourse, and their undress manners. Now in England there is, and
always has been, a manly feeling, most widely diffused, of unwillingness to see labours of a coarse order, or requiring muscular
exertions, thrown upon women. Pauperism, amongst other evil effects, has sometimes locally disturbed this predominating sentiment
of Englishmen ; but never at any time with such depth as to kill the root of the old hereditary manliness. Sometimes at this day a
gentleman, either from carelessness, or from over-ruling force of convenience, or from real defect of gallantry, will allow a female
servant to carry his portmanteau for him ; though, after all, that spectacle is a rare one. And everywhere women of all ages engage
in the pleasant, nay elegant, labours of the hay field ; but in Great Britain women are never suffered to mow, which is a most ath¬
letic and exhausting labour, nor to load a cart, nor to drive a plough or hold it. In France, on the other hand, before the Revolution
(at which period the pseudo-homage, the lip-honour, was far more ostentatiously professed towards the female sex than at present),
a Frenchman of credit, and vouching for his statement by the whole weight of his name and personal responsibility (M. Simond,
now an American citizen), records the following abominable scene as one of no uncommon occurrence: A woman was in some pro¬
vinces yoked side by side with an ass to the plough or the harrow ; and M. Simond protests that it excited no horror to see the driver
distributing his lashes impartially between the woman and her brute yoke-fellow. So much for the wordy pomps of French gallantry.
In England, we trust, and we believe, that any man, caught in such a situation, and in such an abuse of his power (supposing the case
otherwise a possible one), would be killed on the spot.
80
SHAKSPEARE.
Shak- same afterwards remaine and continew like man and wiffe.
speare. And, moreover, if the said Willm. Shagspere do not pro-
ceed to solemnization of mariadg with the said Anne Hath-
wey, without the consent of hir frinds ;—then the said obli¬
gation” [viz. to pay forty pounds] “ to be voyd and of none
effect, or els to stand & abide in full force and vertue.”
What are we to think of this document ? Trepidation
and anxiety are written upon its face. The parties are not
to be married by a special license; not even by an ordi¬
nary license; in that case no proclamation of banns, no
public asking at all, would have been requisite. Economi¬
cal scruples are consulted ; and yet the regular movement of
the marriage “ through the bell-ropes”1 is disturbed. Econo¬
my, which retards the marriage, is here evidently in colli¬
sion with some opposite principle which precipitates it. How
is all this to be explained ? Much light is afforded by the
date when illustrated by another document. The bond bears
date on the 28th day of November in the 25th year of our
lady the queen, that is, in 1582. Now the baptism of Shak-
speare’s eldest child, Susanna, is registered on the 26th of
May in the year following. Suppose, therefore, that his
marriage was solemnized on the 1 st day of December; it
was barely possible that it could be earlier, considering that
the sureties, drinking, perhaps, at Worcester throughout the
28th of November, would require the 29th, in so dreary a
season, for their return to Stratford ; after which some pre¬
paration might be requisite to the bride, since the marriage
was not celebrated at Stratford. Next suppose the birth
of Miss Susanna to have occurred, like her father’s, two
days before her baptism, viz. on the 24th of May. From
December the 1st to May the 24th, both days inclusively,
are 175 days; which, divided by seven, gives precisely
twenty-five weeks, that is to say, six months short by one
week. Oh, fie, Miss Susanna, you came rather before you
were wanted.
Mr Campbell’s comment upon the affair is, that “ if this
was the case,” viz. if the baptism were really solemnized on
the 26th of May, “ the poet’s first child would appear to
have been born only six months and eleven days after the
bond was entered into.” And he then concludes that, on
this assumption, “ Miss Susanna Shakspeare came into the
world a little prematurely.” But this is to doubt where
there never was any ground for doubting ; the baptism was
certainhj on the 26th of May; and, in the next place, the
calculation of six months and eleven days is sustained by
substituting lunar months for calendar, and then only by
supposing the marriage to have been celebrated on the very
day of subscribing the bond in Worcester, and the baptism
to have been coincident with the birth; of which supposi¬
tions the latter is improbable, and the former, considering
the situation of Worcester, impossible.
Strange it is, that, whilst all biographers have worked
with so much zeal upon the most barren dates or most
baseless traditions in the great poet’s life, realising in a man¬
ner the chimeras of Laputa, and endeavouring “ to extract
sunbeams from cucumbers,” such a story with regard to such
an event, no fiction of village scandal, but involved in legal
documents, a story so significant and so eloquent to the in¬
telligent, should formerly have been dismissed without no¬
tice of any kind, and even now, after the discovery of 1836,
with nothing beyond a slight conjectural insinuation. For
our parts, we should have been the last amongst the biogra¬
phers to unearth any forgotten scandal, or, after so vast a
lapse of time, and when the grave had shut out all but charit¬
able thoughts, to point any moral censures at a simple case of
natural frailty, youthful precipitancy of passion, of all tres¬
passes the most venial, where the final intentions are honour¬
able. But in this case there seems to have been something
more in motion than passion or the ardour of youth. “ I
like not,” says Parson Evans (alluding to Falstaff in mas¬
querade), “ I like not when a woman has a great peard; I
spy a great peard under her muffler.” Neither do we like
the spectacle of a mature young woman, five years past her
majority, wearing the semblance of having been led astray
by a boy who had still two years and a half to run of his
minority. Shakspeare himself, looking back on this part of
his youthful history from his maturest years, breathes forth
pathetic counsels against the errors into which his own in¬
experience had been ensnared. The disparity of years be¬
tween himself and his wife he notices in a beaxitiful scene of
the Twelfth Night. The Duke Orsino, observing the sensi¬
bility which the pretended Cesario had betrayed on hearing
some touching old snatches of a love strain, swears that his
beardless page must have felt the passion of love, which
the other admits. Upon this the dialogue proceeds thus:
Shak¬
speare.
Duke. What kind of woman is’t ?
Viola. Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee then —What years ?
Viola. I’ faith,
About your years, my lord.
Duke. Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him.
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
Viola. I think it well, my lord.
Duke Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flower,
Being once display’d, doth fall that very hour.
These counsels were uttered nearly twenty years after
the event in his own life to which they probably look back;
for this play is supposed to have been written in Shak-
speare’s thirty-eighth year. And we may read an earnest¬
ness in pressing the point as to the inverted disparity of
years, which indicates pretty clearly an appeal to the les¬
sons of his personal experience. But his other indiscretion,
in having yielded so far to passion and opportunity as to
crop by prelibation, and before they were hallowed, those
flowers of paradise which belonged to his marriage-day ;
this he adverts to with even more solemnity of sorrow, and
with more pointed energy of moral reproof, in the very last
drama which is supposed to have proceeded from his pen,
and therefore with the force and sanctity of testamentary
counsel. The Tempest is all but ascertained to have been
composed in 1611, that is, about five years before the poet’s
death; and indeed could not have been composed much
earlier; for the very incident which suggested the basis of
the plot, and of the local scene, viz. the shipwreck of Sir
George Somers on the Bermudas (which were in consequence
denominated the Somers’ Islands), did not occur until the
year 1609. In the opening of the fourth act, Prospero for¬
mally betrothes his daughter to Ferdinand; and in doing
so he pays the prince a well-merited compliment of having
“ worthily purchas’d” this rich jewel, by the patience with
which, for her sake, he had supported harsh usage, and other
painful circumstances of his trial. But, he adds solemnly,
If thou dost break her virgin knot before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be minister’d;
1 Amongst people of humble rank in England, who only were ever asked in church, until the new-fangled systems of marriage
came up within the last ten or fifteen years, during the currency of the three Sundays on which the banns were proclaimed by the
clergyman from the reading desk, the young couple elect were said jocosely to be “ hanging in the bell-ropes alluding perhaps to
the joyous peal contingent on the final completion of the marriage.
SHAK SPEAR E.
case what would follow ?
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall.
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-ey'd disdain and discord, shall bestrew
The union of your bed •with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed,
As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.
The young prince assures him in reply, that no strength
of opportunity, concurring with the uttermost temptation,
not
the murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestion
Our worser genius can .
should ever prevail to lay asleep his jealousy of self-control,
so as to take any advantage of Miranda’s innocence. And
he adds an argument for this abstinence, by way of reminding
Prospero, that not honour only, but even prudential care of
his own happiness, is interested in the observance of his
promise. Any unhallowed anticipation would, as he insi¬
nuates,
take away
The edge of that day’s celebration,
When I shall think, or Phoebus’ steeds are founder'd,
Or night kept chain’d below;
that is, when even the winged hours would seem to move
too slowly. Even thus Prospero is not quite satisfied : du¬
ring his subsequent dialogue with Ariel, we are to suppose
that Ferdinand, in conversing apart with Miranda, betrays
more impassioned ardour than the wise magician altoge¬
ther approves. The prince’s caresses have not been unob¬
served ; and thus Prospero renews his warning:
Look thou be true : do not give dalliance
Too much the rein : the strongest oaths are straw
To the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,
Or else—good night your vow.
The royal lover re-assures him of his loyalty to his engage¬
ments ; and again the wise father, so honourably jealous for
his daughter, professes himself satisfied with the prince’s
pledges.
Now in all these emphatic warnings., uttering the lan¬
guage “ of that sad wisdom folly leaves behind,” who can
avoid reading, as in subtile hieroglyphics, the secret record
of Shakspeare’s own nuptial disappointments ? We, indeed,
that is, universal posterity through every age, have reason
to rejoice in these disappointments; for to them, past all
doubt, we are indebted for Shakspeare’s subsequent migra¬
tion to London, and his public occupation, which, giving
him a deep pecuniary interest in the productions of his pen,
such as no other literary application of his powers could
have approached in that day, were eventually the means of
drawing forth those divine works which have survived their
author for our everlasting benefit.
Our own reading and deciphering of the whole case is
as follows. The Shakspeares were a handsome family,
both father and sons. This we assume upon the following
grounds: First, on the presumption arising out of John
Shakspeare s having won the favour of a young heiress
higher in rank than himself; secondly, on the presumption
involved in the fact of three amongst his four sons having
gone upon the stage, to which the most obvious (and per¬
haps in those days a sine qua non) recommendation would
be a good person and a pleasing countenance; thirdly, on
the direct evidence of Aubrey, who assures us that Wil¬
liam Shakspeare was a handsome and a well-shaped man ;
fourthly, on the implicit evidence of the Stratford monu¬
ment, which exhibits a man of good figure and noble coun¬
tenance ; fifthly, on the confirmation of this evidence by
♦he Chandos portrait, which exhibits noble features, illus¬
trated by the utmost sweetness of expression; sixthly,
selection of theatrical parts, which it is known
that Shakspeare personated, most of them being such as
VOL. xx.
81
required some dignity of form, viz. kings, the athletic Shak-
(though aged) follower of an athletic young man, and su- speare.
pernatural beings. On these grounds, direct or circumstan- ' 
tial, we believe ourselves warranted in assuming that Wil¬
liam Shakspeare was a handsome and even noble-looking
boy. Miss Anne Hathaway had herself probably some per¬
sonal attractions ; and, if an indigent girl, who looked for no
pecuniary advantages, would probably have been early sought
in marriage. But as the daughter of “ a substantial yeo¬
man,” who would expect some fortune in his daughter’s sui¬
tors, she had, to speak coarsely, a little outlived her market,
lime she had none to lose. William Shakspeare pleased
her eye ; and the gentleness of his nature made him an apt
subject for female blandishments^ possibly for female arts.
Without imputing, however, to this Anne Hathaway any
thing so hateful as a settled plot for ensnaring him, it was
easy enough for a mature woman, armed with such inevi-
taole advantages of experience and of self-possession, to
draw onward a blushing novice; and, without directly
creating opportunities; to place him in the way of turning
to account such as naturally offered. Young boys are ge¬
nerally flattered by the condescending notice of grown-up
women ; and perhaps Shakspeare’s own lines upon a simi¬
lar situation, to a young boy adorned with the same natu¬
ral gifts as himself, may give us the key to the result:
Gentle thou art, and therefore to he won ;
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assail’d ;
And, when a woman woos, what woman’s son
Will sourly leave her till he have prevail’d ?
Once, indeed, entangled in such a pursuit, any person
of manly feelings would be sensible that he had no re¬
treat : that would be—to insult a woman, grievously to
wound her sexual pride, and to insure her lasting scorn and
hatred. These were consequences which the gentle-mind¬
ed Shakspeare could not face: he pursued his good for¬
tunes, half perhaps in heedlessness, half in desperation, un¬
til he was roused by the clamorous displeasure of her fa¬
mily upon first discovering the situation of their kinswo¬
man. For such a situation there could be but one atone¬
ment, and that was hurried forward by both parties; whilst,
out of delicacy towards the bride, the wedding was not ce¬
lebrated in Stratford (where the register contains no no¬
tice of such an event); nor, as Malone imagined, in Weston-
upon-Avon, that being in the diocese of Gloucester; but
in some parish, as yet undiscovered, in the dioeese of Wor¬
cester.
But now arose a serious question as to the future main¬
tenance of the young people. John Shakspeare was de¬
pressed in his circumstances, and he had other children
besides William, viz. three sons and a daughter. The elder
lives have represented him as burdened with ten ; but this
was an error, arising out of the confusion between John
Shakspeare the glover and John Shakspeare a shoemaker.
This error has been thus far of use, that, by exposing the
fact of two John Shakspeares (not kinsmen) residing in
Stratford-upon-Avon, it has satisfactorily proved the name
to be amongst those which are locally indigenous to War¬
wickshire. Meantime it is now ascertained that John Shak¬
speare the glover had only eight children, viz. four daughters
and four sons. The order of their succession was this:
Joan, Margaret, William, Gilbert, a second Joan, Anne,
Richard, and Edmund. Three of the daughters, viz. the
two eldest of the family, Joan and Margaret, together with
Anne, died in childhood : all the rest attained mature ages,
and of these William was the eldest. This might give him
some advantage in his father’s regard; but in a question of
pecuniary provision precedency amongst the children of an
insolvent is nearly nominal. For the present John Shak¬
speare could do little for his son ; and, under these circum¬
stances, perhaps the father of Anne Hathaway would come
forward to assist the new-married couple. This condition
in that
82
SHAKSPEARE.
Shrifc- of dependency would furnish matter for painful feelings and
speare. irritating words: the youthful husband, whose mind wTould
' ]je expanding as rapidly as the leaves and blossoms of
spring-time in polar latitudes, would soon come to appreci¬
ate the sort of wiles by which he had been caught, dhe
female mind is quick, and almost gifted with the power of
witchcraft, to decipher what is passing in the thoughts of
familiar companions. Silent and forbearing as William
Shakspeare might be, Anne, his staid wife, would read
his secret reproaches; ill would she dissemble her wrath,
and the less so from the consciousness of having deserved
them. It is no uncommon case for women to feel anger
in connection with one subject, and to express it in connec¬
tion with another ; which other, perhaps (except as a ser¬
viceable mask), would have been a matter of indifference
to their feelings. Anne would therefore reply to those
inevitable reproaches which her own sense must presume
to be lurking in her husband’s heart, by others equally
stinging, on his inability to support his family, and on his
obligations to her father’s purse. Shakspeare, we may be
sure, would be ruminating every hour on the means of his
deliverance from so painful a dependency; and at length,
after four years’ conjugal discord, he would resolve upon
that plan of solitary emigration to the metropolis, which, at
the same time that it released him from the humiliation
of domestic feuds, succeeded so splendidly for his worldly
prosperity, and with a train of consequences so vast for all
future ages.
Such, we are persuaded, was the real course of Shak-
speare’s transition from school-boy pursuits to his public
career : and upon the known temperament of Shakspeare,
his genial disposition to enjoy life without disturbing his
enjoyment by fretting anxieties, we build the conclusion,
that had his friends furnished him with ampler funds, and
had his marriage been well assorted or happy, we—the
world of posterity—should have lost the whole benefit and
delight which we have since reaped from his matchless fa¬
culties. The motives which drove him from Stratford are
clear enough ; but what motives determined his course to
London, and especially to the stage, still remains to be ex¬
plained. Stratford-upon-Avon, lying in the high road from
London through Oxford to Birmingham (or more gene¬
rally to the north), had been continually visited by some
of the best comedians during Shakspeare’s childhood. One
or two of the most respectable metropolitan actors were
natives of Stratford. These would be well known to the
elder Shakspeare. But, apart from that accident, it is no¬
torious that mere legal necessity and usage would compel
all companies of actors, upon coming into any town, to
seek, in the first place, from the chief magistrate, a license
for opening a theatre, and next, over and above this public
sanction, to seek his personal favour and patronage. As an
alderman, therefore, but still more whilst clothed with the
official powers of chief magistrate, the poet’s father would
have opportunities of doing essential services to many per¬
sons connected with the London stage. Ihe conversation
of comedians acquainted with books, fresh from the keen
and sparkling circles of the metropolis, and filled with racy
anecdotes of the court, as well as of public life generally,
could not but have been fascinating by comparison with Slmk-
the stagnant society of Stratford. Hospitalities on a liberal ^ sPei*re;
scale would be offered to these men : not impossibly this fact
might be one principal key to those dilapidations which the
family estate had suffered. These actors, on their part, would
retain a grateful sense of the kindness they had received, and
would seek to repay it to John Shakspeare, now that he was
depressed in his fortunes, as opportunities might offer. His
eldest son, growing up a handsome young man, and beyond
all doubt from his earliest days of most splendid colloquial
powers (for assuredly of him it may be taken for granted,
Nec licuit populis parvum te, Nile, videre),
would be often reproached in a friendly way for burying
himself in a country life. These overtures, prompted alike
by gratitude to the father, and a real selfish interest in the
talents of the son, would at length take a definite shape;
and, upon some clear understanding as to the terms of such
an arrangement, William Shakspeare would at length (about
1586, according to the received account, that is, in the
fifth year of his married life, and the twenty-third or twen¬
ty-fourth of his age), unaccompanied by wife or children,
translate himself to London. Later than 1586 it could not
well be ; for already in 1589 it has been recently ascertain¬
ed that he held a share in the property of a leading theatre.
We must here stop to notice, and the reader will allow
us to notice with summary indignation, the slanderous and
idle tale which represents Shakspeare as having fled to
London in the character of a criminal, from the persecu¬
tions of Sir Thomas Lucy of Chariecot. This tale has long
been propagated under two separate impulses: chiefly, per¬
haps, under the vulgar love of pointed and glaring contrasts;
the splendour of the man was in this instance brought into
a sort of epigrammatic antithesis with the humility of his
fortunes; secondly, under a baser impulse, the malicious
pleasure of seeing a great man degraded. Accordingly, as
in the case of Milton,1 it has been affirmed that Shakspeare
had suffered corporal chastisement, in fact (we abhor to
utter such words), that he had been judicially whipped.
Now, first of all, let us mark the inconsistency of this tale :
the poet was whipped, that is, he was punished most
disproportionately, and yet he fled to avoid punishment.
Next, we are informed that his offence was deer-stealing,
and from the park of Sir Thomas Lucy. And it has
been well ascertained that Sir Thomas had no deer, and
had no park. Moreover, deer-stealing was regarded by our
ancestors exactly as poaching is regarded by us. Deer
ran wild in all the great forests ; and no offence was look¬
ed upon as so venial, none so compatible with a noble Ro¬
bin-Hood style of character, as this very trespass upon
what were regarded as ftrce natures, and not at all as do¬
mestic property. But had it been otherwise, a trespass
was not punishable with whipping; nor had Sir Thomas
Lucy the power to irritate a whole community like Strat¬
ford-upon-Avon, by branding with permanent disgrace a
young man so closely connected with three at least of the
best families in the neighbourhood. Besides, had Shak¬
speare suffered any dishonour of that kind, the scandal
would infallibly have pursued him at his very heels to Lon-
i In a little memoir of Milton, which the author of this article drew up some years ago for a public society, and which is printed in an
abridged shape, he took occasion to remark, that Dr Johnson, who was meanly anxious to revive this slander against Milton, as well as
some others, had supposed Milton himself to have this flagellation in his mind, and indirectly to confess it, in one of his Latin poems,
where, speaking of Cambridge, and declaring that he has no longer any pleasure in the thoughts of revisiting that university, he says,
“ Nec duri libet usque minas perferre magistri,
Cseteraque ingenio non subeunda meo.”
This last line the malicious critic would translate—“ And other things insufferable to a man of my temper/’ But, as we then observ¬
ed, ingenium is properly expressive of the intellectual constitution, whilst it is the moral constitution that suffers degradation from perso¬
nal chastisement-the sense of honour, of personal dignity, of justice, &c. InMes is the proper term for this latter idea; and m using
the word ingenium, there cannot be a doubt that Milton alluded to the dry scholastic disputations, which were shocking and odious to
his fine poetical genius. If, therefore, the vile story is still to be kept up m order to dishonour a great man at any rate let it not in future
be pretended that any countenance to such a slander can be drawn from the confessions of the poet iimseit.
S H A K S
Shak- cion ; and in that case Greene, who has left on record, in a
speare. posthumous work of 1592, his malicious feelings towards
Shakspeare, could not have failed to notice it. For, be it
remembered, that a judicial flagellation contains a twofold
ignominy: flagellation is ignominious in its own nature, even
though unjustly inflicted, and by a ruffian ; secondly, any
judicial punishment is ignominious, even though not wear¬
ing a shade of personal degradation. Now a judicial flagel¬
lation includes both features of dishonour. And is it to
be imagined that an enemy, searching with the diligence
of malice for matter against Shakspeare, should have failed,
six years after the event, to hear of that very memorable
disgrace which had exiled him from Stratford, and was the
very occasion of his first resorting to London; or that a
leading company of players in the metropolis, one of whom,
and a chief one, was his own townsman, should cheerfully
adopt into their society, as an honoured partner, a young
man yet flagrant from the lash of the executioner or the
beadle ?
This tale is fabulous, and rotten to its core ; yet even this
does less dishonour to Shakspeare’s memory than the sequel
attached to it. A sort of scurrilous rondeau, consisting of
nine lines, so loathsome in its brutal stupidity, and so vul¬
gar in its expression, that we shall not pollute our pages by
transcribing it, has been imputed to Shakspeare ever since
the days of the credulous Rowe. The total point of this
idiot’s drivel consists in calling Sir Thomas “ an asse and
well it justifies the poet’s own remark, t; Let there be gall
enough in thy ink, no matter though thou write with a
goose pen.” Our own belief is, that these lines were a pro-,
Auction of Charles II.’s reign, and applied to a Sir Thomas
Lucy, not very far removed, if at all, from the age of him
who first picked up the precious filth : the phrase “ parlia¬
ment member,” we believe to be quite unknown in the col¬
loquial use of Queen Elizabeth’s reign.
But, that we may rid ourselves once and for ever of this
outrageous calumny upon Shakspeare’s memory, we shall
pursue the story to its final stage. Even Malone has been
thoughtless enough to accredit this closing chapter, which
contains, in fact, such a superfetation of folly as the annals
of human dulness do not exceed. Let us recapitulate the
points of the story. A baronet, who has no deer and no
park, is supposed to persecute a poet for stealing these
aerial deer out of this aerial park, both lying in nephelo-
coccygia. '[ he poet sleeps upon this wrong for eighteen
years; but at length, hearing that his persecutor is dead
and buried, he conceives bloody thoughts of revenge. And
this revenge he purposes to execute by picking a hole in
his dead enemy’s coat-of-arms. Is this coat-of-arms, then,
Sir Thomas Lucy’s ? Why, no: Malone admits that it
is not. For the poet, suddenly recollecting that this ridi¬
cule would settle upon the son of his enemy, selects ano¬
ther coat-of-arms, with which his dead enemy never had
any connection, and he spends his thunder and lightning
upon this irrelevant object; and, after all, the ridicule itself
lies in a Welchman’s mispronouncing one single heraldic
term—a Welchman who mispronounces all words. The
last act of the poet’s malice recalls to us a sort of jest-book
story of an Irishman, the vulgarity of which the reader will
pardon in consideration of its relevancy. The Irishman
having lost a pair of silk stockings, mentions to a friend
that he has taken steps for recovering them by an adver¬
tisement, offering a reward to the finder. His friend ob¬
jects that the costs of advertising, and the reward, would
eat out the full value of the silk stockings. But to this
the Irishman replies, with a knowing air, that he is not so
green as to have overlooked that; and that, to keep down
the reward, he had advertised the stockings as worsted.
Wot at all less flagrant is the bull ascribed to Shakspeare,
when he is made to punish a dead man by personalities
meant for his exclusive ear, through his coat-of-arms, but
P E A R E. 83
at the same time, with the express purpose of blunting and Shab-
defeating the edge of his own scurrility, is made to substi- speare.
tute for the real arms some others which had no more re-v'—
lation to the dead enemy than they had to the poet him¬
self. This is the very sublime of folly, beyond which hu¬
man dotage cannot advance.
It is painful, indeed, and dishonourable to human nature,
that whenever men of vulgar habits and of poor education
wish to impress us with a feeling of respect for a man’s ta¬
lents, they are sure to cite, by way of evidence, some gross
instance of malignity. Power, in their minds, is best illus¬
trated by malice or by the infliction of pain. To this un¬
welcome fact we have some evidence in the wretched tale
which we have just dismissed ; and there is another of the
same description to be found in all lives of Shakspeare,
which we will expose to the contempt of the reader whilst
we are in this field of discussion, that we may not after¬
wards have to resume so disgusting a subject.
This poet, who was a model of gracious benignity in his
manners, and of whom, amidst our general ignorance, thus
much is perfectly established, that the term gentle was al¬
most as generally and by prescriptive right associated with
his name as the affix of venerable with Bede, or judicious
with Hooker, is alleged to have insulted a friend by an
imaginary epitaph beginning “ Ten in the Hundred” and
supposing him to be damned, yet without wit enough
(which surely the Stratford bellman could have furnished)
for devising any, even fanciful, reason for such a supposi¬
tion ; upon which the comment of some foolish critic is,
“ The sharpness of the satire is said to have stung the man
so much that he never forgave it.” We have heard of the
sting in the tail atoning for the brainless head ; but in this
doggerel the tail is surely as stingless as the head is brain¬
less. For, ls£, Ten in the Hundred could be no reproach
in Shakspeare’s time, any more than to call a man Three-
and-a-haf-per-cent, in this present year 1838 ; except, in¬
deed, amongst those foolish persons who built their mora¬
lity upon the Jewish ceremonial law. Shakspeare himself
took ten per cent. Zdly, It happens that John Combe, so
far from being the object of the poet’s scurrility, or viewing
the poet as an object of implacable resentment, wras a Strat¬
ford friend; that one of his family was affectionately remem¬
bered in Shakspeare's will by the bequest of his sword; and
that John Combe himself recorded his perfect charity with
Shakspeare by leaving him a legacy of L.o sterling. And
in this lies the key to the whole story. For, 3dhj, the four
lines were written and printed before Shakspeare was
born. The name Combe is a common one ; and some stu¬
pid fellow, who had seen the name in Shakspeare’s will,
and happened also to have seen the lines in a collection of
epigrams, chose to connect the cases by attributing an
identity to the two John Combes, though at war with chro¬
nology.
Finally, there is another specimen of doggerel attributed
to Shakspeare, which is not equally unworthy of him, be¬
cause not equally malignant, hut otherwise equally below
his intellect, no less than his scholarship; we mean the in¬
scription on his grave-stone. This, as a sort of siste viator
appeal to future sextons, is worthy of the grave-digger or
the parish-clerk, who was probably its author. Or it may
have been an antique formula, like the vulgar record of
ownership in books-—
Anthony Timothy Dolthead’s book,
God give him grace therein to look.
Thus far the matter is of little importance ; and it might
have been supposed that malignity itself could hardly have
imputed such trash to Shakspeare. But when we find,
even in this short compass, scarcely wider than the posy of
a ring, room found for traducing the poet’s memory, it be¬
comes important to say, that the leading sentiment, the
84
SHAK SPEAR E.
Shak-
speare.
horrof expressed at any disturbance offered to his bones, is
not one to which Shakspeare could have attached the
slightest weight; far less could have outraged the sanctities
of place and subject, by affixing to any sentiment whatever
(and, according to the fiction of the case, his farewell sen¬
timent) the sanction of a curse.
Filial veneration and piety towards the memory of this
great man have led us into a digression that might have
been unseasonable in any cause less weighty than one hav¬
ing for its object to deliver his honoured name from a load
of the most brutal malignity. Never more, we hope and
venture to believe, will any thoughtless biographer impute
to Shakspeare the asinine doggerel with which the uncri¬
tical blundering of his earliest biographer has caused his
name to be dishonoured. We now resume the thread of
our biography. The stream of history is centuries in work¬
ing itself clear of any calumny with which it has once been
polluted.
Most readers will be aware of an old story, according to
which Shakspeare gained his livelihood for some time after
coming to London by holding the horses of those who rode
to the play. This legend is as idle as any one of those
which we have just exposed. No custom ever existed of
riding on horseback to the play. Gentlemen, who rode
valuable horses, would assuredly not expose them syste¬
matically to the injury of standing exposed to cold for two
or even four hours ; and persons of inferior rank would not
ride on hprseback in the town. Besides, had such a cus¬
tom ever existed, stables (or sheds at least) would soon
have arisen to meet the public wants ; and in some of the
dramatic sketches of the day, which noticed every fashion
as it arose, this would not have been overlooked. The
story is traced originally to Sir William Davenant. Better-
ton the actor, who professed to have repeived it from
him, passed it onwards to Rowe, he to Pope, Pope to Bi¬
shop Newton the editor of Milton, and Newton to Dr
Johnson. This pedigree of the fable, however, adds no¬
thing to its credit, and multiplies the chances of some mis¬
take. Another fable, not much less absurd, represents
Shakspeare as having from the very first been borne upon
the establishment of the theatre, and so far contradicts the
other fable, but originally in the very humble character of
call-boy or deputy prompter, whose business it was to sum¬
mon each performer according to his order of coming upon
the stage. This story, however, quite as much as the
other, is irreconcileable with the discovery recently made
by Mr Collier, that in 1589 Shakspeare was a shareholder
in the important property of a principal London theatre.
It seems destined that all the undoubted facts of Shak-
speare’s life should come to us through the channel of legal
documents, which are better evidence even than imperial
medals; whilst, on the other hand, all the fabulous anec¬
dotes, not having an attorney’s seal to them, seem to have
been the fictions of the wonder-maker. The plain pre¬
sumption from the record of Shakspeare’s situation in 1589,
coupled with the fact that his first arrival in London was
possibly not until 1587, but according to the earliest ac¬
count not before 1586, a space of tirne which leaves but little
room for any remarkable changes of situation, seems to be,
that, either in requital of services done to the players by the
poet’s family, or in consideration of money advanced by
his father-in-lawr, or on account of Shakspeare s personal
accomplishments as an actor, and as an adapter of dramatic
works to the stage ; for one of these reasons, or for all of
them united, William Shakspeare, about the 23d year of
his age, was adopted into the partnership of a respectable his¬
trionic company, possessing a first- rate theatre in the metro¬
polis. If 1586 were the year in which he came up to Lon¬
don, it seems probable enough that his immediate motive
to that step was the increasing distress of his father; for
in that year John Shakspeare resigned the office of aider-
man. There is, however, a bare possibility that Shak¬
speare might have gone to London about the time when
he completed his twenty-first year, that is, in the spring of
1585, but not earlier. Nearly two years after the birth
of his eldest daughter Susanna, his wife lay in for a second
and a last time ; but she then brought her husband twins,
a son and a daughter. These children were baptized in
February of the year 1585 ; so that Shakspeare’s whole fa¬
mily of three children were born and baptized two months
before he completed his majority. The twins were bap¬
tized by the names of Hamnet and Judith, those being the
names of two amongst their sponsors, viz. Mr Sadler and
his wife. Hamnet, which is a remarkable name in itself,
becomes still more so from its resemblance to the immortal
name of Hamlet1 the Dane ; it was, however, the real baptismal
name of Mr Sadler, a friend of Shakspeare’s, about four¬
teen years older than himself. Shakspeare s son must then
have been most interesting to his heart, both as a twin child
and as his only boy. He died in 1596, when he was about
eleven years old. Both daughters survived their father ^
both married ; both left issue, and thus gave a chance for
continuing the succession from the great poet. But all the
four grandchildren died without offspring.
Of Shakspeare personally, at least of Shakspeare. the
man, as distinguished from the author*, there remains little
more to record. Already in 1592, Greene, in his posthu¬
mous Groat’s-worth of Wit, had expressed the earliest vo¬
cation of Shakspeare in the following sentence:—“ There is
an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers ; in his own
conceit the only Shakscene in a country! This alludes to
Shakspeare’s office of re-casting, and even re-composing,
dramatic works, so as to fit them for representation ; and
Master Greene, it is probable, had suffered in his self-esti¬
mation, or in his purse, by the alterations in some piece ot
his own which the duty of Shakspeare to the general inte¬
rests of the theatre had obliged him to make. In 1591 it
has been supposed that Shakspeare wrote his first drama,
the Two Gentlemen of Verona; the least characteristi¬
cally marked of all his plays, and, with the exception ot
Love’s Labour’s Lost, the least interesting.
From this year, 1591 to that of 1611, are just twenty
years, within which space lie the whole dramatic creations
of Shakspeare, averaging nearly one for every six months.
In 1611 was written the Tempest, which is supposed to
have been the last of all Shakspeare’s works. Even on
that account, as Mr Campbell feelingly observes, it has
“ a sort of sacrednessand it is a most remarkable fact,
and one calculated to make a man superstitious, that in
this play the great enchanter Prospero, in whom, “ as if
conscious,” says Mr Campbell, “ that this would be his
last work, the poet has been inspired to typify himself as
a wise, potent, and benevolent magician,” of whom, indeed,
as of Shakspeare himself, it may be said, that “ within
that circle” (the circle of his own art) “ none durst tread
but he,” solemnly and for ever renounces his mysterious
functions, symbolically breaks his enchanter’s wand, and
declares that he will bury his books, his science, and his
secrets
Shak¬
speare.
Deeper than did ever plummet sound.
Nay, it is even ominous, that in this play, and from the
1 And singular enough it is, as well as interesting, that Shakspeare had so entirely name^of his friend Sadler^
the name Hamnet bv the dramatic name of Hamlet, that in writing his will, e ac ua y -qp Keen dead for twenty
and calls him Hamlet. His son, however, who should have familiarized the true name to his ear, had then been dead foi twenty
years.
SHAKSPEARE.
Shak- voice of Prospero, issues that magnificent prophecy of the
gpeare. total destruction which should one day swallow up
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea all which it inherit.
And this prophecy is followed immediately by a most pro¬
found ejaculation, gathering into one pathetic abstraction
the total philosophy of life :
We are such stuff
As dreams are made of; and our little life
Is rounded by a sleep;
that is, in effect, our life is a little tract of feverish vigils,
surrounded and islanded by a shoreless ocean of sleep—
sleep before birth, sleep after death.
These remarkable passages were probably not unde¬
signed ; but if we suppose them to have been thrown off
without conscious notice of their tendencies, then, accord¬
ing to the superstition of the ancient Grecians, they would
have been regarded as prefiguring words, prompted by the
secret genius that accompanies every man, such as insure
along with them their own accomplishment. With or
without intention, however, it is believed that Shakspeare
wrote nothing more after this exquisite romantic drama.
With respect to the remainder of his personal history, Dr
Drake and others have supposed, that during the twenty
years from 1591 to 1611, he visited Stratford often, and
latterly once a year.
In 1589 he had possessed some share in a theatre; in
1596 he had a considerable share. Through Lord South¬
ampton, as a surviving friend of Lord Essex, who was viewed
as the martyr to his Scottish politics, there can be no doubt
that Shakspeare had acquired the favour of James I.; and
accordingly, on the 29th of May 1603, about two months
after the king’s accession to the throne of England, a patent
was granted to the company of players who possessed the
Globe theatre; in which patent Shakspeare’s name stands
second. This patent raised the company to the rank of
his majesty’s servants, whereas previously they are sup¬
posed to have been simply the servants of the Lord Cham¬
berlain. Perhaps it was in grateful acknowledgment of
this royal favour that Shakspeare afterwards, in 1606, paid
that sublime compliment to the house of Stuart which is
involved in the vision shown to Macbeth. This vision is
managed with exquisite skill: it was impossible to display the
whole series of princes from Macbeth to James I.; but he
beholds the posterity of Banquo, one “ gold-bound brow”
succeeding to another, until he comes to an eighth appari¬
tion of a Scottish king,
Who hears a glass
Which shows him many more ; and some he sees
Who twofold balls and treble sceptres carry ;
thus bringing down without tedium the long succession to
the very person of James I. by the symbolic image of the
two crowns united on one head.
About the beginning of the century Shakspeare had
85
become rich enough to purchase the best house in Stratford, Shak-
called The Great House, which name he altered to New speare.
Place ; and in 1602 he bought 107 acres adjacent to thiss,',*^v-*-/
house for a sum (L.320) corresponding to about 1500 gui¬
neas of modern money. Malone thinks that he purchased
the house as early as 1597; and it is certain that about
that time he was able to assist his father in obtaining a
renewed grant of arms from the Heralds’ College, and there¬
fore, of course, to re-establish his father’s fortunes. Ten
years of well-directed industry, viz. from 1591 to 1601, and
the prosperity of the theatre in which he was a proprietor,
had raised him to affluence; and after another ten years,
improved with the same success, he was able to retire with
an income of L.300, or (according to the customary com¬
putations) in modern money of L. 1500, per annum. Shak¬
speare was in fact the first man of letters, Pope the second,
and Sir Walter Scott the third, who, in Great Britain, has
ever realized a large fortune by literature ; or in Christen¬
dom, if we except Voltaire, and two dubious cases in Italy.
Ihe four or five latter years of his life Shakspeare passed
in dignified ease, in profound meditation, we may be sure,
and in universal respect, at his native town of Stratford;
and there he died, on the 23d of April 1616.1
His daughter Susanna had been married on the 5th of June
of the year 1607, to Dr John Hall,2 a physician in Stratford.
Ihe doctor died in November 1635, aged sixty; his wife,
at the age of sixty-six, on July 11, 1640. They had one
child, a daughter, named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married
April 22, 1626, to Thomas Nashe, Esq. left a widow in
1647, and subsequently remarried to Sir John Barnard ; but
this Lady Barnard, the sole grand-daughter of the poet, had
no children by either marriage. The other daughter Ju¬
dith, on February 10, 1616 (about ten v/eeks before her
father’s death) married Mr Thomas Quiney of Stratford, by
whom she had three sons, Shakspeare, Richard, and Tho¬
mas. Judith was about thirty-one years old at the time of
her marriage; and living just forty-six years afterwards, she
died in February 1662, at the age of seventy-seven. Her
three sons died without issue ; and thus, in the direct lineal
descent, it is certain that no representative has survived
of this transcendent poet, the most august amongst created
intellects.
After this review of Shakspeare’s life, it becomes our duty
to take a summary survey of his works, of his intellectual
powers, and of his station in literature, a station which is
now irrevocably settled, not so much (which happens in
other cases) by a vast overbalance of favourable suffrages,
as by acclamation ; not so much by the voices of those who
admire him up to the verge of idolatry, as by the acts of
those who everywhere seek for his works among the pri¬
mal necessities of life, demand them, and crave them as
they do their daily bread ; not so much by eulogy open¬
ly proclaiming itself, as by the silent homage recorded
in the endless multiplication of what he has bequeathed us;
not so much by his own compatriots, who, with regard to
almost every other author,3 compose the total amount of his
. , . ave heard that Mr Shakspeare was a natural wit, without any art at all. Hee frequented the plays all his younger time, but
in ns e er days lived at Stanford, and supplied the stage with two plays every year, and for itt had an allowance so large, that he
spen at the rate of 1,000/. a-year, as I have heard. Shakespeare, Drayton, and Ben Jonson, had a merie meeting, and it seems drank
too hard, for Shakespear died of a feavour there contracted.” (Diary of the Rev. John Ward, A. M. Vicar of Stratford-upon-Avon,
extending from 1648 to 1679, p. 183. Lond. 1839, 8vo.)
It is naturally to be supposed that Dr Hall would attend the sick-bed of his father-in-law; and the discovery of this gentle¬
man s medical diary promised some gratification to our curiosity as to the cause of Shakspeare’s death. Unfortunately, it does not
commence until the year 1617. J
An exception ought perhaps to be made for Sir Walter Scott and for Cervantes; but with regard to all other writers, Dante,
suppose, or Ariosto amongst Italians, Camoens amongst those of Portugal, Schiller amongst Germans, however ably they may have
een na urahzed in foreign languages, as all of those here mentioned (excepting only Ariosto) have in one part of their works been
np°v P?wer:u naturalized in English, it still remains true (and the very sale of the books is proof sufficient) that an alien author
Ip^di * take u00- "i1 the Seneral sympathies out of his own country; he takes his station in libraries, he is read by the man of
in eisure’ k® 18 known and valued by the refined and the elegant, but he is not (what Shakspeare is for Germany and America
m anv proper sense a. popular favourite. J
86 S H A K S
Sliak- effective audience, as by the unanimous “ all hail!” of in-
^ speare. tellectual Christendom ; finally, not by the hasty partisan-
v J' v ship of his own generation, nor by the biassed judgment of
an age trained in the same modes of feeling and of think¬
ing with himself, but by the solemn award of generation
succeeding to generation, of one age correcting the obli¬
quities or peculiarities of another; by the verdict of two
hundred and thirty years, which have now elapsed since
the very latest of his creations, or of two hundred and for¬
ty-seven years if we date from the earliest; a verdict which
has been continually revived and re-opened, probed, search¬
ed, vexed, by criticism in every spirit, from the most genial
and intelligent, down to the most malignant and scurri-
lously hostile which feeble heads and great ignorance could
suggest when co-operating with impure hearts and narrow
sensibilities ; a verdict, in short, sustained and countersign¬
ed by a longer series of writers, many of them eminent for
wit or learning, than were ever before congregated upon any
inquest relating to any author, be he who he might, ancient1
or modern, Pagan or Christian. It was a most witty say¬
ing with respect to a piratical and knavish publisher, who
made a trade of insulting the memories of deceased authors
by forged writings, that he was “ among the new terrors
of death.” But in the gravest sense it may be affirmed of
Shakspeare, that he is among the modern luxuries of life ;
that life, in fact, is a new thing, and one more to be coveted,
since Shakspeare has extended the domains of human con¬
sciousness, and pushed its dark frontiers into regions not so
much as dimly descried or even suspected before his time,
far less illuminated (as now they are) by beauty and tropi¬
cal luxuriance of life. For instance,—a single instance, in¬
deed one which in itself is a world of new revelation,—the
possible beauty of the female character had not been seen
as in a dream before Shakspeare called into perfect life the
radiant shapes of Desdemona, of Imogene, of Hermione, of
Perdita, of Ophelia, of Miranda, and many others. The
Una of Spenser, earlier by ten or fifteen years than most
of these, was an idealized portrait of female innocence and
virgin purity, but too shadowy and unreal for a dramatic
reality. And as to the Grecian classics, let not the reader
imagine for an instant that any prototype in this field of
Shakspearian power can be looked for there. The Antigone
and the Electro, of the tragic poets are the two leading
female characters that classical antiquity offers to qur re¬
spect, but assuredly not to our impassioned love, as disci¬
plined and exalted in the school of Shakspeare. They chal¬
lenge our admiration, severe, and even stern, as. impersona¬
tions of filial duty, cleaving to the steps of a desolate and
afflicted old man; or of sisterly affection, maintaining the
rights of a brother under circumstances of peril, of deser¬
tion, and consequently of perfect self-reliance. Iphigenia,
again, though not dramatically coming before us in her own
person, but according to the beautiful report of a spectator,
presents us with a fine statuesque model of heroic fortitude,
and of one whose young heart, even in the very agonies of
P E A R E.
her cruel immolation, refused to forget, by a single indeco- Shak.
rous gesture, or so much as a moment’s neglect of her own sPe‘*re^
princely descent, and that she herself was “ a lady in the
land.” * These are fine marble groups, but they are not the
warm breathing realities of Shakspeare ; there is no spe¬
culation” in their cold marble eyes; the breath of life is
not in their nostrils ; the fine pulses of womanly sensibili¬
ties are not throbbing in their bosoms. And besides this
immeasurable difference between the cold moony reflexes
of life, as exhibited by the power of Grecian art, and the
true sunny life of Shakspeare, it must be observed that the
Antigones, &c. of the antique put forward but one single
trait of character, like the aloe with its single blossom : this
solitary feature is presented to us as an abstraction, and as
an insulated quality ; whereas in Shakspeare all is presented
in the concrete ; that is to say, not brought forward in re¬
lief, as by some effort of an anatomical artist; but embo¬
died and imbedded, so to speak, as by the force of a creative
nature, in the complex system of a human life ; a life in which
all the elements move and play simultaneously, and with
something more than mere simultaneity or co-existence,
acting and re-acting each upon the other, nay, even acting
by each other and through each other. In Shakspeare’s
characters is felt for ever a real organic life, where each is
for the whole and in the whole, and where the whole is for
each and in each. They only are real incarnations.
The Greek poets could not exhibit any approximations to
female character, without violating the truth of Grecian life,
and shocking the feelings of the audience. The drama with
the Greeks, as with us, though much less than with us, was
a picture of human life ; and that which could not occur in
life could not wisely be exhibited on the stage. Now, in
ancient Greece, women were secluded from the society of
men. The conventual sequestration of the ywcuxuviTic,, or
female apartment2 of the house, and the Mahommedan con¬
secration of its threshold against the ingress of males, had
been transplanted from Asia into Greece thousands ot years
perhaps before either convents or Mahommed existed. Thus
barred from all open social intercourse, women could not
develope or express any character by word or action. Even
to have a character, violated, to a Grecian mind, the ideal
portrait of feminine excellence ; whence, perhaps, partly
the too generic, too little individualized, style of Grecian
beauty. But prominently to express a character was im¬
possible under the common tenor of Grecian life, unless
when high tragical catastrophes transcended the decorums
of that tenor, or for a brief interval raised the curtain which
veiled it. Hence the subordinate part which women play
upon the Greek stage in all but some half dozen cases. In
the paramount tragedy on that stage, the model tragedy,
the (Edipus Tyrannus of Sophocles, there is virtually no
woman at all ; for Jocasta is a party to the story merely as
the dead Laius or the self-murdered Sphinx was a party, viz.
by her contributions to the fatalities of the event, not by
any thing she does or says spontaneously. In fact, the
1 It will occur to many readers, that perhaps Homer may furnish the sole exception to this sweeping assertion : any hut Homer is
clearly and ludicrously below the level of the competition; but even Homer, “ with his tail on" (as the Scottish Highlanders say
of their chieftains when belted by their ceremonial retinues), musters nothing like the force which already follows Shakspeare ; and
be it remembered, that Homer sleeps and has long slept as a subject of criticism or commentary, while m Germany as well as Eng¬
land, and now even in France, the gathering of wits to the vast equipage of Shakspeare is advancing in an accelerated ratio. 1 here is,
in fact, a great delusion current upon this subject. Innumerable references to Homer, and brief critical remarks on this or that pre¬
tension of Homer, this or that scene, this or that passage, lie scattered over literature ancient and modern; but the express works
dedicated to the separate service of Homer are, after all, not many. In Greek we have only the large Commentary of Eustathius, and
the Scholia of Uidymus &c. • in French little or nothing before the prose translation of the seventeenth century, which 1 ope es¬
teemed “ elegant,” and the skirmishings of Madame Dacier, La Motte, &c. ; in English, besides the various translations and their pre¬
faces (which, by the way, began as early as 1555), nothing of much importance until the elaborate preface of Pope to the Iliad, and his
elaborate postscript to the Odyssev—nothing certainly before that, and very little indeed since that, exeept Wood s Essay on
the Life ami Genius of Homer. On the other hand, of the books written in illustration or investigation ot Shakspeare, a very con-
siderable library might be formed in England, and another in Germany. _ . .... . .
a Apartment is here used, as the reader will observe, in its true and continental acceptation, as a division or compartment of a
house including many rooms; a suite of chambers, but a suite which is partitioned off (as in palaces;, not a single chamber , a sense
so commonly and so erroneously given to this word in England.
S H A K S P E A E E.
Shak-
speare.
Greek poet, if a wise poet, could not address himself geni-
^ a% to a task in which he must begin by shocking the sen¬
sibilities of his countrymen. And hence followed, not only
the dearth of female characters in the Grecian drama, but
also a second result still more favourable to the sense of a
new power evolved by Shakspeare. Whenever the com¬
mon law of Grecian life did give way, it was, as we have
observed, to the suspending force of some great convulsion
or tragical catastrophe. This for a moment (like an earth¬
quake in a nunnery) would set at liberty even the timid,
fluttering Grecian women, those doves of the dove-cot, and
would call some of them into action. But which ? Precisely
those of energetic and masculine minds ; the timid and
feminine would but shrink the more from public gaze and
from tumult. Thus it happened, that such female charac¬
ters as were exhibited in Greece, could not but be the harsh
and the severe. If a gentle Ismene appeared for a moment
in contest with some energetic sister Antigone (and chiefly,
perhaps, by way of drawing out the fiercer character of that
sister), she was soon dismissed as unfit for scenical effect.
So that not only were female characters few, but, moreover,
of these few the majority were but repetitions of mascu¬
line qualities in female persons. Female agency being sel¬
dom summoned on the stage except when it had received
a sort of special dispensation from its sexual character, by
some terrific convulsions of the house or the city, naturally
it assumed the style of action suited to these circumstances.
And hence it arose, that not woman as she differed from
man, but woman as she resembled man—woman, in short,
seen under circumstances so dreadful as to abolish the effect
of sexual distinction, was the woman of the Greek tragedy.1
And hence generally arose for Shakspeare the wider field,
and the more astonishing by its perfect novelty, when he
first introduced female characters, not as mere varieties or
echoes of masculine characters, a Medea or Clytemnestra,
or a vindictive Hecuba, the mere tigress of the tragic ti¬
ger, but female characters that had the appropriate beauty
of female nature; woman no longer grand, terrific, and
repulsive, but woman “ after her kind”—the other he¬
misphere of the dramatic world ; woman running through
the vast gamut of womanly loveliness ; woman as eman¬
cipated, exalted, ennobled, under a new law of Christian
morality ; woman the sister and co-equal of man, no lon¬
ger his slave, his prisoner, and sometimes his rebel. “ It
is a far cry to Loch Awe and from the Athenian stage
to the stage of Shakspeare, it may be said, is a prodigious
interval. True; but prodigious as it is, there is really
nothing between them. The Roman stage, at least the
tragic stage, as is well known, was put out, as by an extin¬
guisher, by the cruel amphitheatre, just as a candle is made
pale and ridiculous by daylight. Those who were fresh
from the real murders of the bloody amphitheatre regarded
with contempt the mimic murders of the stage. Stimula¬
tion too coarse and too intense had its usual effect in mak¬
ing the sensibilities callous. Christian emperors arose at
length, who abolished the amphitheatre in its bloodier fea¬
tures. But by that time the genius of the tragic muse had
long slept the sleep of death. And that muse had no i’e-
surrection until the age of Shakspeare. So that, notwith¬
standing a gulf of nineteen centuries and upwards sepa¬
rates Shakspeare from Euripides, the last of the surviving
ireek tragedians, the one is still the nearest successor of
the other, just as Connaught and the islands in Clew Bay
are next neighbours to America, although three thousand
watery columns, each of a cubic mile in dimensions, divide
them from each other.
87
A second reason, which lends an emphasis of novelty and Shai-
effective power to Shakspeare’s female world, is a peculiar speare.
fact of contrast which exists between that and his corre- v •'—
spending world of men. Let us explain. The purpose and
the intention of the Grecian stage was not primarily to
develope human character, whether in men or in women;
human fates were its object; great tragic situations under
the mighty control of a vast cloudy destiny, dimly descried
at intervals, and brooding over human life by mysterious
agencies, and for mysterious ends. Man, no longer the re¬
presentative of an august will, man the passion-puppet of
fate, could not with any effect display what wTe call a cha¬
racter, which is a distinction between man and man, ema¬
nating originally from the will, and expressing its deter¬
minations, moving under the large variety of human im¬
pulses. I he will is the central pivot of character; and
this wTas obliterated, thwarted, cancelled, by the dark fata¬
lism which brooded over the Grecian stage. That expla¬
nation will sufficiently clear up the reason why marked or
complex variety of character was slighted by the great
principles of the Greek tragedy. And every scholar who
has studied that grand drama of Greece with feeling,—that
drama, so magnificent, so regal, so stately,—and who has
thoughtfully investigated its principles, and its difference
from the English drama, will acknowledge that powerful
and elaborate character, character, for instance, that could
employ the fiftieth part of that profound analysis which has
been applied to Hamlet, to Falstaff, to Lear, to Othello,
and applied by Mrs Jamieson so admirably to the full de¬
velopment of the Shakspearian heroines, would have been
as much wasted, nay, would have been defeated, and in¬
terrupted the blind agencies of fate, just in the same way
as it would injure the shadowy grandeur of a ghost to indi¬
vidualize it too much. Milton’s angels are slightly touched,
superficially touched, with differences of character; but
they are such differences, so simple and general, as are
just sufficient to rescue them from the reproach applied to
Virgil’s “fortemque Cyan, fortemque Cloanthem /’just suf¬
ficient to make them knowable apart. Pliny speaks of
painters who painted in one or two colours; and, as respects
the angelic characters, Milton does so ; he is monochroma¬
tic. So, and for reasons resting upon the same ultimate
philosophy, were the mighty architects of the Greek tra¬
gedy. They also were monochromatic; they also, as to
the characters of their persons, painted in one colour. And
so far there might have been the same novelty in Shak¬
speare’s men as in his women. There might have been;
but the reason why there is not, must be sought in the fact,
that History, the muse of History* had there even been no
such muse as Melpomene, would have forced us into an
acquaintance with human character. History, as the re¬
presentative of actual life, of real man, gives us powerful
delineations of character in its chief agents, that is, in men ;
and therefore it is that Shakspeare, the absolute creator of
female character, was but the mightiest of all painters with
regard to male character. Take a single instance. The An¬
tony of Shakspeare, immortal for its execution, is found,
after all, as regards the primary conception, in history:
Shakspeare’s delineation is but the expansion of the germ
already pre-existing, by way of scattered fragments, in Ci¬
cero’s Philippics, in Cicero’s Letters, in Appian, &c. But
Cleopatra, equally fine, is a pure creation of art: the situa¬
tion and the scenic circumstances belong to history, but the
character belongs to Shakspeare.
In the great world therefore of woman, as the inter¬
preter of the shifting phases and the lunar varieties of that
phaticallv drew forth the V^ th ?PP?slt<f circumstances> ur>der the circumstances which, instead of abolishing, most em-
Greek star-e • thp r, l sexual distinctions, viz. in the cormc aspects of social intercourse, the reason that we see no women on the
'-reek stage, the Greek comedy, unless when it affects the extravagant fun of farce, rejects women.
88
SHAKSPEAKE.
Shak-
s]>eare.
mighty changeable planet, that lovely satellite of man,
Shakspeare stands not the first only, not the original only,
but is yet the sole authentic oracle of truth. Woman,
therefore, the beauty of the female mind, this is one great
field of his power. The supernatural world, the world, of
apparitions, that is another: for reasons which it would be
easy to give, reasons emanating from the gross mythology
of the ancients, no Grecian,1 no Roman, could have con¬
ceived a ghost. That shadowy conception, the protesting
apparition, the awful projection of the human conscience,
belongs to the Christian mind: and in all Christendom,
who let us ask, who, who but Shakspeare has found the
power for effectually working this mysterious mode of being?
In summoning back to eartli “ the majesty of buried Den¬
mark,” how like an awful necromancer does Shakspeare
appear! All the pomps and grandeurs which religion,
which the grave, which the popular superstition had ga¬
thered about the subject of apparitions, are here converted
to his purpose, and bend to one awfid effect. The wormy
o-rave brought into antagonism with the scenting of the
early dawn ; the trumpet of resurrection suggested, and
again as an antagonist idea to the crowing of the cock (a
bird ennobled in the Christian mythus by the part he is
made to play at the Crucifixion); its starting “ as a guilty
thing” placed in opposition to its majestic expression of of¬
fended dignity when struck at by the partisans of the sen¬
tinels; its awful allusions to the secrets of its prison-house;
its ubiquity, contrasted with its local presence; its aerial
substance, yet clothed in palpable armour; the heart-shak¬
ing solemnity of its language, and the appropriate scenery
of its haunt, viz. the ramparts of a capital fortress, with no
witnesses but a few gentlemen mounting guard at the dead
of night,—what a mist, what a mirage of vapour, is here
accumulated, through which the dreadful being in the centie
looms upon us in far larger proportions than could have hap¬
pened had it been insulated and left naked of this circum¬
stantial pomp ! In the Tempest, again, what new modes of
life, preternatural, yet far as the poles from the spiritualities of
religion. Ariel in antithesis to Caliban ! ,What is most ethe¬
real to what is most animal! A phantom of air, an abstraction
of the dawn and of vesper sun-lights, a bodiless sylph on the
one hand ; on the other a gross carnal monster, like the Mil¬
tonic Asmodai, “ the fleshliest incubus” among the fiends,
and yet so far ennobled into interest by his intellectual
power, and by the grandeur of misanthropy !2 In the Mid¬
summer-Nights Dream, again, we have the old traditional
fairy, a lovely mode of preternatural life, remodified by
Shakspeare’s eternal talisman. Oberon and Titania remind
us at first glance of Ariel: they approach, but how far they
recede: they are like—“ like, but, oh, how different! And
in no other exhibition of this dreamy population of the
moonlight forests and forest-lawns, are the circumstantial pro¬
prieties of fairy life so exquisitely imagined, sustained, or ex¬
pressed. The dialogue between Oberon and Titania is, of
itself, and taken separately from its connection, one of the
most delightful poetic scenes that literature affords. The
witches in Macbeth are another variety of supernatural life, ^
in which Shakspeare’s power to enchant and to disenchant
are alike portentous. The circumstances of the blasted
heath, the army at a distance, the withered attire of the
mysterious hags, and the choral litanies of their fiendish
Sabbath, are as finely imagined in their kind as those which
herald and which surround the ghost in Hamlet. There we
see the positive of Shakspeare’s superior power But now
turn and look to the negative* At a time when the trials
of witches, the royal book on demonology, and popular su¬
perstition (all so far useful, as they prepared a basis of un¬
doubting faith for the poet’s serious use of such agencies)
had degraded and polluted the ideas of these mysteri¬
ous beings by many mean associations, Shakspeare does
not fear to employ them in high tragedy (a tragedy more¬
over which, though not the very greatest of his efforts
as an intellectual whole, nor as a struggle of passion, is
among the greatest in any view', and positively the great¬
est for scenical grandeur, and in that respect makes the
nearest approach of all English tragedies to the Grecian
model); he does not fear to introduce, for the same appal¬
ling effect as that for which Aeschylus introduced the Eu-
menides, a triad of old women, concerning whom an Eng¬
lish wit has remarked this grotesque peculiarity in the
popular creed of that day,—that although potent over
winds and storms, in league with powers of darkness, they
yet stood in awe of the constable,—yet relying on his own
supreme power to disenchant as well as to enchant, to create
and to uncreate, he mixes these women and their dark machi¬
neries with the power of armies, with the agencies of kings,
and the fortunes of martial kingdoms. Such was the sove¬
reignty of this poet, so mighty its compass !
A third fund of Shakspeare’s peculiar power lies in his
teeming fertility of fine thoughts and sentiments. From
his works alone might be gathered a golden bead-roll ol
thoughts the deepest, subtilest, most pathetic, and yet most
catholic and universally intelligible; the most characteristic,
also, and appropriate to the particular person, the situation,
and the case, yet, at the same time, applicable to the cir¬
cumstances of every human being, under all the accidents
of life, and all vicissitudes of fortune. But this subject
offers so vast a field of observation, it being so eminently
the prerogative of Shakspeare to have thought more finely
and more extensively than all other poets combined, that
we cannot wrong the dignity of such a theme by doing
more, in our narrow limits, than simply noticing it as one
of the emblazonries upon Shakspeare’s shield.
Fourthly, we shall indicate (and, as in the last case,
barely indicate, without attempting in so vast a field to offer
any inadequate illustrations) one mode of Shakspeare’s dra¬
matic excellence which hitherto has not attracted any spe¬
cial or separate notice. We allude to the forms of life, and
natural human passion, as apparent in the stmcture of his
dialogue. Among the many defects and infirmities of the
Shak¬
speare.
1 It mav be thought however, by some readers, that ^schylus, in his fine phantom of Darius, has approached the English ghost.
As a foreign ghost, we’would wish (and we are sure that our excellent readers would wish) to show every courtesynd attention
to this apparition of Darius. It has the advantage of being royal, an advantage which it shares with the ghost of the royal Dane
Yet how different, how removed by a total world, from that or any of Shakspeare s ghosts! Take that of Banquo, for‘nstance . how
shadowy, how unreal, vet how real! Darius is a mere state ghost-a diplomatic ghost. But Banquo_he exists only for Macbeth;
the guests do not see him, yet how solemn, how real, how heart-searching e is. . e v . c
2 Caliban has not yet been thoroughly fathomed. For all Shakspeare’s great creations are like works of nature, subjects of unexhaustible
study. It was this character of whom Charles I. and some of his ministers expressed such fervent admiration; and, among other
circumstances, most justly they admired the new language almost with which he is endowed, for the purpose of expressing hi fiend¬
ish and yet carnal thoughts of hatred to his master. Caliban is evidently not meant for scorn but for abomination m^ed with fear
and partial respect. He is purposely brought into contrast with the drunken Tnnculo and Stephano, with an advantageous result.
He is much more intellectual thin either, uses a more elevated language not disfigured Vn^rhVmo.h.^ But he
nassion for plunder as they are He is mortal, doubtless, as his “ dam (for Shakspeare will not call her mother) Sycorax. But he
inherits from her such nullities of power as a witch could be supposed to bequeath. He trembles indeed before Prospero ; but that
l^s we ^ the moral superiority of Pros^ro in Christian wisdom; tor when he finds himself m the presence
of dissolute and unprincipled men, he rises at once into the dignity of intellectual power.
SHAKSPEARE.
89
Shak- French and of the Italian drama, indeed we may say of
speare. the Greek, the dialogue proceeds always by independent
speeches, replying indeed to each other, but never modified
in its several openings by the momentary effect of its seve¬
ral terminal forms immediately preceding. Now, in Shak-
speare, who first set an example of that most important
innovation, in all his impassioned dialogues, each reply or
rejoinder seems the mere rebound of the previous speech.
Every form of natural interruption, breaking through the
restraints of ceremony under the impulses of tempestuous
passion; every form of hasty interrogative, ardent reiteration
when a question has been evaded; every form of scornful
repetition of the hostile words; every impatient continua¬
tion of the hostile statement; in short, all modes and for¬
mulae by which anger, hurry, fretfulness, scorn, impatience,
or excitement under any movement whatever, can disturb
or modify or dislocate the formal bookish style of com¬
mencement,—these are as rife in Shakespeare’s dialogue
as in life itself; and how much vivacity, how profound a
verisimilitude, they add to the scenic effect as an imitation
of human passion and real life, we need not say. A
volume might be written illustrating the vast varieties of
Shakspeare’s art and power in this one field of improve¬
ment ; another volume might be dedicated to the exposure
of the lifeless and unnatural result from the opposite prac¬
tice in the foreign stages of France and Italy. And we
may truly say, that were Shakspeare distinguished from
them by this single feature of nature and propriety, he
would on that account alone have merited a great immor¬
tality. (t. de q.)
[Since this essay on Shakspeare was written, the un¬
wearied research of literary antiquaries, and the national
idolatry of our great poet, have established a few additional
facts. It seems to be proved, that by the paternal as well
as the maternal side, Shakspeare sprung from a race of
substantial yeomen (in the female branch, shading into
the class of rural gentry), who were long resident at Snit-
terfield, about three miles from Stratford-on-Avon. His
grandfather, Richard Shakspeare, occupied lands belonging
to Robert Arden of Wilmecote. Richard Shakspeare had
three sons, two of whom lived and died apparently as
farmers, at Snitterfield. The other son, the poet’s father,
settled in Stratford, carrying on business as a glover, but
afterwards engaging in the cultivation of land and other
occupations. His acquaintance with the Arden family,
from whom his father held lands, and on whose estate he
was himself born, is easily accounted for ; and he succeeded
in obtaining the hand of Mary Arden, the seventh daughter
of his father’s landlord, the rural squire of Snitterfield.
This lady inherited, under her father’s will, the estate of
Asbies, already described, with a sum of L.6, 13s. 4d, and
an interest in two tenements in Snitterfield, which, when
he fell into difficulties, John Shakspeare disposed of for
L.4. The pedigree of the poet thus connects him, as Mr
Halliwell remarks, with “ the inhabitants of the valley and
woodland;” and he carried in his blood the impress of the
healthiest and most virtuous class in England. It need
form no deduction from this estimate, that the poet’s
parents could not sign their names. Existing documents
bear the marks of both John and Mary Shakspeare, and
most of the rural middle class at this time were equally
illiterate.
With respect to Shakspeare’s marriage-bond, which has
been considered to indicate haste and secrecy unfavourable
to the reputation of Anne Hathaway, it appears that be-
trothment or contract of marriage generally preceded actual
marriage; and was held to be as sacred and binding. The
bond is of the usual tenor common at the time; and the
Stratford register shows many cases in which the first
child was baptized a few months after the entry of the
VOL. xx.
parents’ marriage, without subjecting the parties to the
stigma of illegitimacy which, when it occurred, was always
carefully noted in the register. The two bondsmen, San-
dells and Richardson, were respectable yeomen of Shottery;
and as one of the seals bears the initials “ R. H.,” the
bride’s father, Richard Hathaway, was most likely present
at the ceremony. The Hathaways and John Shakspeare
were early acquainted.
Malone conceived that he had completely demolished
the tradition of Shakspeare’s deer-stealing exploit, by show¬
ing that Sir Thomas Lucy had no park at Charlecote, but
the Egerton Papers,ip\\bXis\\ed in 1840, show that Sir Thomas
had deer if he had no park; for in 1602 he contributed a
buck towards the entertainment of Queen Elizabeth at
Harefield, and he is not likely to have purchased a buck
for this purpose. The royal visit to Harefield, too, estab¬
lishes another Shakspearian fact. On this occasion, a sum
of L.64, 18s. lOd . was distributed among the “ vaulters,
players, and dancers,” whom Lord Chancellor Egerton had
engaged to perform before the Queen, and of this honora¬
rium ten pounds were given “ to Burbage’s players for
Othello.” 1 his fixes the date of Othello two years before
the earliest date previously assigned to its production. Let
us note, that in this classic mansion of Harefield, the
“ Arcades” of Milton, part of a masque, was subsequently
performed, being written for representation by the children
of the Earl of Bridgewater. Malone was happy in his con¬
jecture that Shakspeare had purchased his Stratford house,
New Place, in 1597. Mr Halliwell ascertained (1848)
from the record of the fine levied on the sale, preserved in
the Chapter House, Westminster, that the purchase was
made at the Easter term 1597, the sum given for the mes¬
suage, barns, and garden being L.60—about L.300 of our
present money. In 1602, the poet bought another pro¬
perty from the same individual for L.60, besides purchasing
in the same year the lands of Old Stratford, for which he
paid L.320; and in 1605, he made his largest purchase,
giving L.440 for the unexpired term of a lease of certain
tithes. These repeated investments attest not only Shak¬
speare’s growing wealth, but his attachment to his native
district—a district now, for his sake, classic and hallowed
ground.
The question whether Shakspeare was a Roman Catholic
has been raised. We hold that no Roman Catholic could
have written parts of King John, Henry VIII., and other
dramas of Shakspeare. The old faith, however, probably
held sway in the sequestered hamlet of Snitterfield. In
1844, a document was discovered in the State Paper Office,
by which it appears that the poet’s father, in 1592, was
returned as one of the recusants who “had been hereto¬
fore presented for not coming monthly to the church, ac¬
cording to her Majesty’s laws.” The officer who makes
the return reports, that John Shakspeare, and eight other
men in Stratford (two of them bearing the well-known
names of Fluellen and Bardolph), abstained from coming
to church for “fear of process of debt.” This plea is
scarcely available, as John Shakspeare is found at the
sametime going about on ordinary business, and four years
afterwards he applied at the Herald’s Office for a coat of
arms, at the instigation, no doubt, of his son the poet.
Whether a process for debt could then be served on Sun¬
day is not mentioned, but we would rather attribute John
Shakspeare’s continued absence from church to some lin¬
gering attachment to the Papal faith, which must have
been the religion of his youth. As alderman of Stratford,
however, he would, in his busy days, have taken the oath
then required from all functionaries. The poet’s family were
undoubtedly Protestants. They ultimately manifested a
Puritanical devotion or seriousness; and Mr Halliwell
found in the town-chamberlain’s accounts for 1614, this
item: “ For one quart of sack and one quart of claret wine,
M
Shak¬
speare.
S H A
given to a preacher at New Place, xxd. Tins was two
years before Shakspeare’s death. The poet had accommo¬
dated the preacher with lodgings, and the corporation, as a
peculiar mark of respect, added to his ‘ creature comforts.
Perhaps the Puritanical tendencies of Shakspeare s widow
and daughters may partly account for the total loss of his
papers. Not a scrap has survived, not a fragment of a
scene, not one familiar letter.
In commenting on Shakspeare’s married life, Malone and
others have charged the poet with neglect of his wife in
only mentioning her in his will by an after-thought—an
interlineation—and then merely giving her his second best
bed. Mr Charles Knight has successfully vindicated the
memory of the poet from this accusation. His property
was nearly all freehold, and the widow, by the ordinary
operation of the law, would be entitled to her dower, or a
third of the whole. This was no doubt understood between
them, and the bequest of the bed was a special and
affectionate memento.
Shakspeare’s sonnets seem to demand a brief notice.
They were published in 1609, printed for T. T., or
Thomas Thorpe, a bookseller, who dedicated them to a “ Mr
W. H.,” styling this unknown person “the only begetter of
these ensuing sonnets.” So early as 1598, a contemporary
writer, Meres, had mentioned Shakspeare’s “ sugared son¬
nets among his private friends,” and I horpe s collection
seems to have been unauthorised and inedited. Some
of the sonnets were written apparently in extreme youth,
some in a feigned or assumed character, and others in the
poet’s advanced years. Premature age had fallen upon him
in the midst of his busy and thoughtful career. Most of
the sonnets are addressed to a male friend of high rank,
urging him to marry ; and this object of Shakspeare s ex¬
travagant admiration and worship is supposed to have been
William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, while others name
the poet’s patron Henry, Earl of Southampton. Little
reliance can be placed on these surmises and speculations.
Whatever biographical truth the sopnets possess is of a
somewhat painful character, but they abound. in vivid
imagery and in Shakspearian thought and expression.
We subjoin Mr Knight’s chronological table of Shak¬
speare’s plays, showing the positive facts that determine the
dates, apart from the internal evidence on which there will
always be a diversity of opinion :—
Henry VI. Parti. Alluded to by Nash in Pierce Penniless... 1592
Henry VI. Part II. Printed as the “First Part of the
Contention”    
Henry VI. Part III. Printed as the “True Tragedy of
Richard, Duke of York” 
Richard II. Printed  _
Richard III. Printed  ^
Romeo and Juliet. Prin ted  
Love’s Labour’s Lost. Printed   
Henry IV. Parti. Printed  
Henry IV. Pari II. Printed   
Merchant of Venice. Printed 1600, mentioned by Meres... 1598
Midsummer Night's Bream. Printed 1600, mentione y
Meres
S H A
Much Ado about Nothing. Printed   1600 Shamaka.
As You Like It. Entered at Stationers’ Hall  1600 v—'
All’s Well that Ends Well. Held to be mentioned by Meres
as “Love’s Labour’s Won.” *  1598
Two Gentlemen of Verona. Mentioned by Meres  1598
Comedy of Errors. Mentioned by Meres   1598
King John. Mentioned by Meres   1598
Titus Andronicus. Printed  1600
Twelfth Night. Acted in the Middle Temple Hall   1602
Othello. Acted at Harefield   1602
Merrv Wives of Windsor. Printed   1602
Hamlet. Printed  1603
Measure for Measure. Acted at Whitehall  1W4
Lear. Printed 1608, acted at Whitehall   1607
Taming of the Shrew. Supposed to have been acted at
Henslow’s Theatre 1593, entered at Stationers’ Hall  1607
Troilus and Cressida. Printed 1609, previously acted at
Court  1609
Pericles. Printed   1609
The Tempest. Acted at Whitehall  1611
The Winter’s Tale. Acted at Whitehall   1611
Henry VIII. Acted as a new play when the Globe Theatre
was burned  1613
Out of the thirty-seven plays of Shakspeare, the dates
of thirty-one are thus to some extent fixed in epochs.
These dates are, of course, to be modified by other cir¬
cumstances. There are only six plays remaining whose
dates are not thus limited by publication, by the notice of
contemporaries, or by the record of their performances ;
and these certainly belong to the poet’s later period.
They are—
Macbeth. Timon of Athens. Antony and Cleopatra.
Cymbeline. Julius Coesar. Coriolanus.
The first edition of Shakspeare’s dramatic works was pub¬
lished by his fellow comedians, Heminge and Condell, in
1623. Of this a second edition was printed in 1632, a
third in 1664, and a fourth in 1685. The first annotated
or critical edition of Shakspeare was that of Rowe in 1709,
and to this succeeded, before the end of the century, the
more elaborate or elegant editions of Pope, Theobald, Sir
Thomas Hanmer, Warburton, Johnson, Capell, Steevens,
and Malone. The two last were constantly adding to their
store of illustrative notes, while Chalmers, Reed, and
others joined in overlaying the poet’s text with a mass of
verbal disquisitions and quotations wrhich, kin 1821, swelled
out into an edition of twenty-one volumes. This included
the notes of Malone, Boswell, and others. During the
last thirty or forty years, an amount of learning, of research,
and of {esthetic criticism has been brought to bear upon the
genius and times of Shakspeare that baffles all computation.
The proudest names in our literature have made offerings
at this shrine. The scholars and critics of Germany have
run a race of generous competition with those of England,
and among the earliest in the two countries we may place
Schlegel and Coleridge side by side. In our own day,
as annotators and editors, in the new and reverent spirit,
the best are Mr Dyce, Mr John Payne Collier, and Mr
Charles Knight.]
SHAMAKA, or Schemacha, the capital of a govern¬
ment of Asiatic Russia, Transcaucasia, on the Pir Saghat,
69 miles W.N.W. of Baku, and 207 E.S.E. of lifhs. It
was at one time a very flourishing and important place,
being the chief seat of commerce between Persia and the
north; but having been taken and sacked by Nadir Shah
in 1734, it lay for a long time in ruins. Recently it has
recovered a great deal of its ancient prosperity, since it was
made the capital of the province of Shirvan in 1841; and
since 1847, when that province was divided into the govern¬
ments of Shamaka and Derbent, it has been the capital of
the former. It is fortified; and contains a bazaar, with 500
stalls. Here are the most important manufactories of silk
in Transcaucasia, producing goods esteemed equal to those
of French manufacture. Cotton and woollen cloth is also
woven here; and vines and pomegranates are grown in the
vicinity. The wine of this district is considered the best
in Shirvan; it is chiefly made by the Armenians who in¬
habit the adjacent villages. The trade of the place is very
extensive. Pop. 20,433. The town is called properly
Old Shamaka, to distinguish it from Aksu, or New Sha¬
maka, on the Aksu, 20 miles S.W. Here is a castle, once
the residence of the khan of Shirvan. The town has a
population of 7000; and is also a flourishing place.
S H A
Shanghae. SHANGHAE, or Shanghai, a city and river-port of
China, in the province of Kiang-su, on the left bank of the
Woosung, which conveys the water of Lake Tahoo into the
estuary of the Yang-tse-keang, 40 miles by water from the
sea, and 169 E.S.E. of Nankin. N. Lat. 31. 12.; E. Long.
120. 53. It stands in a rich and well-cultivated plain,
planted with wheat, rice, and cotton; and is surrounded by
walls about 5 miles in circuit; but there are several exten¬
sive suburbs without the walls. Shanghae is the most
northerly; and, next to Canton, the most important of the
five ports that were opened to foreign trade by the treaty
of 1843. Since that time the importance of the place has
been very much increased, and its aspect entirely changed,
by the introduction of European commerce ; and a new and
flourishing settlement has risen alongside of the Chinese
city. What formerly was an unhealthy swamp, dotted
with the wretched huts of the Chinese, is now covered with
the handsome mansions of European and American mer¬
chants, and gardens, which vie with those of the Chinese,
for which Shanghae has long been famous. The river,
which is here half-a-mile broad and from six to eight fathoms
deep, is lined with commodious quays and warehouses.
Numerous large steamers and sailing-vessels are continually
anchored in the river; and further up a forest of masts rises
from the native craft from all parts of China, while outside
the harbour many opium clippers are generally moored.
The Chinese part of the city has a very different appear¬
ance from that occupied by foreigners. The streets are
narrow, and not over clean, paved in general with small
tiles, instead of the granite common in other Chinese towns.
In the outer portions of the town business is actively car¬
ried on, and shops abound; but towards the interior these
disappear, and a great deal of ground is occupied by gar¬
dens. The shops are generally small, but well stocked
with all sorts of Chinese and foreign goods, especially silk,
cotton, clothes, &c. Most of the houses are ill-built; and
the public buildings are no way remarkable, consisting of
many temples or joss-houses, several hospitals, government
offices, and a mint. The tea-gardens of Shanghae, occu¬
pying a large square, planted with trees, and the large ice¬
houses, are worthy of observation. Some manufactures are
carried on; the chief articles produced being flowered silk,
paper, ivory-ware, and glass. It is for its commerce, how¬
ever, both with other parts of China and with foreign coun¬
tries, that the city is chiefly important. For both of these
purposes its situation is very well adapted. Along the
coast of China, from the Bay of Ning-po northwards, to
the peninsula of Shantung, a region extending over 5 de¬
grees of latitude, there is no port but this accessible even
to moderately-sized vessels, on account of the vast amount
of deposit which is brought down by the great rivers Yang-
tse-keang and Hoang-ho. At the same time, the land, en¬
riched by these gigantic streams, is the most populous and
best cultivated part of China, the province of Kiang-su
producing great quantities of silk. Shanghae also stands
in connection with many of the distant and inland pro¬
vinces, by means of the Imperial Canal, which crosses the
Woosung above the town, and by the great rivers. Re¬
cently, however, the rebellion in the valley of the Yang-
tse-keang, the occupation of Ching-kiang-fu, on the canal,
and a change in the course of the Hoang-ho, have inter¬
rupted these means of communication; but their place has
been supplied by a coasting trade between the northern and
the southern ports of China. This interruption of commu¬
nication has materially reduced the quantity of tea ex¬
ported from Shanghae; but it has not affected the trade in
silk, which has greatly increased since 1855. These two
are the only goods exported in any great quantities. On
the whole, the trade has considerably increased since the
opening of the port. The value of the imports and exports
in 1858 is exhibited in the following table:—
S H A
Imported.
Goods and merchandise L.5,894,000
Specie and bullion  1,226,000
Known total L.7,115,600
Opium  4,944,400
Grand total L.12,061,000
As the opium is a prohibited article, ar
unknown to the Chinese officials, its value can only be
estimated. The above estimate includes 25,122 chests of
Malwa opium, valued at L.3,617,568, and 7238 chests of
Patna opium, valued at L.1,129,128. Among the imports
are also included 414,505 pieces of American gray twills,
and 36,400 pieces of American sheetings. The quantities
of silk and tea exported in the same year were as follows:—
Exported.
L.9,555,400
3,007,600
L.12,563,000
id presumed to be
Silk.
Countries. Raw.
Great Britain   bales 24,957
Hong-Kong 37,804
Poo-Chow  209
United States    1,614
Manilla    201
Thrown.
1494
4971
8
19
2
6494
Total.
26,451
42,775
217
1,633
203
71,279
Total 64,785
Besides this, there were exported 391 bales of coarse silk,
138 of refuse, and 921 of cocoons, all to Great Britain.
Tea.
Countries. Black.
Great Britain lbs. 12,507,037
Poo-Chow, Hong-Kong 765,417
Australia    326,129
Montreal  43,914
Continent of Europe .... 529,080
United States  71,089
Manilla   
Green.
8,214,620
1,146,736
143,602
584,148
72,775
21,951,555
9,600
Total.
20,721,657
1,912,153
469,731
628,062
601,855
21,122,644
9,600
Total 14,242,666 31,223,036 45,465,702
The navigation of the port for the same year is shown in
the following table :—-
flag.
British  
United States...
Other countries
Total.
Entered
Vessels. Tonnage.
290
97
367
754
120,205
56,280
66,139
242,624
Cleared.
Vessels. Tonnage.
174
56
148
378
77,496
38,270
39,029
154,795
Shanghae was taken by the British in June 1842, but
restored to the Chinese by the treaty ratified in the follow¬
ing year. In September 1853 it was captured by the in¬
surgent forces, but regained by the Imperialists soon after¬
wards. The population is variously estimated; it is proba¬
bly between 115,000 and 135,000, though some accounts
make it as much as 300,000.
SHANNON, a river of Ireland, by far the largest in
that country, and one of the most important in the United
Kingdom. Its source is at the foot of Caileagh, one of the
mountains in the county of Cavan, which surround Lough
Allen, into which it falls after a course of a few miles. Out
of this lake, which is about 10 miles in length, it issues at
its southern extremity, and flows in an irregular course,
generally southwards, in a narrow, shallow, and somewhat
interrupted bed. It receives the Boyle River from Lough
Key on the right, and further down it expands into a sheet
of water called Lough Bodarrig. Beyond this it flows
through a wide expanse of boggy land, till it enters the
northern extremity of Lough Ree at Lanesborough. This
lake is the second in size of those the Shannon flows through,
92
S H A
Shan-si. being 17 miles in length by 7 in its greatest breadth. It
is diversified by many promontories, bays, and creeks, and
has very beautiful scenery. Issuing from Lough Ree, a
little above Athlone, the Shannon continues to pursue a
circuitous and southerly course, through a low, flat, and
fertile region, dividing itself at some places into arms which
enclose considerable islands. In this part of its course, the
Suck, its chief affluent, and little inferior to the main river,
joins the Shannon from the west, after a course of 60 miles.
The largest lake that the river flows through is Lough
Derg; it is 25 miles long, narrow, and much indented. It
is also’ the most beautiful in its scenery; for, unlike the
others which lie in low ground, a great portion of this lake,
especially its lower end, is environed by mountains; Slievh
Bou°hty rising on the west, and the Arra Mountains on the
east.S From Killaloe at. the foot of Lough Derg, the Shan¬
non flows south-west to Limerick; and about half-way be¬
tween these places are the falls of Doonass. These are,
properly speaking, rapids; the river, which is here 40 feet
deep and 300 yards broad, rolling tumultuously over a suc¬
cession of rugged rocks for about half a mile, in the midst
of luxuriant meadows and shaggy woods ; while the ruins
of Castle Connel occupy a lofty rock overlooking the stream.
From Limerick onwards the course of the Shannon is due
west, and it is here rather an estuary or arm of the sea than
a river, though it is known by the name of the Lower
Shannon. It enters the Atlantic between Look Head on
the north, and Kerry Head on the south. Several rivers
join it in this part of its course, the chief of which is the
Fergus, from the north. The whole length of the Shannon,
from its source to the sea, is 220 miles. During its course
from Lough Allen to below Lough Bodarrig it separates
the counties of Leitrim and Roscommon ; from thence to
the lower part of Lough Derg it divides Leinster and
Munster on the one side, from Connaught on the other;
Longford, Westmeath, and King’s County belonging to the
first, Tipperary to the second, Roscommon and Galway
to the third of these provinces. The rest of its course lies
in Munster, between Clare on the 'north, Limerick and
Kerry on the south. The most remarkable thing about the
Shannon is the length of navigable water it has. In this
respect it is far superior to any river in the United King¬
dom, for vessels may ascend from its mouth as far as Lough
Allen, so that there are only 6 or 7 miles out of 220 that
cannot be navigated. There are, indeed, at various places
obstructions caused by the shoals and rapids of the river;
but these have, for the most part, been overcome by lateral
canals, or by deepening the channel. Upwards of half a
million sterling has been expended on various works for the
improvement of the river; and yet, from the want of proper
management, it is still in an unsatisfactory state. Ihe
value of such a river to the country is necessarily very
great, as it connects the most inland places with the sea,
and by the Grand and Royal Canals to Dublin inland navi¬
gation is extended also to other parts of the island. The
highest tides in the Shannon rise about 18 feet, the lowest
14 ; the velocity in narrow parts of the estuary is frequently
very great, and the water assumes an appearance very like
that of a bore. Several varieties of fish are found in the
Shannon, and the most productive fishery is that of eels.
SHAN-SI, or Shan-see, an inland province of China,
bounded on the N. by Mongolia, from which it is separated
by the Great Wall, E. by Pe-che-li, S. by Honan, and W.
by Shen-si. Area, 55,360 square miles. The surface is
in general mountainous, but there are many level tracts.
The largest river is the Hoang-ho, which forms the whole
of the western and part of the southern boundary. It re¬
ceives many affluents, which, though small compared with
the giant streams of China, would anywhere else be con¬
sidered of great size. The Tan-ho, the largest of these in
this province, has a length of 300 miles. In the north of
Sharp.
S H A
Shan-si are some of the favourite hunting-grounds of the Shan-Tung
Chinese emperors. The productions of the province are
rice, wheat, millet, coal, iron, lapis lazuli, salt, jaspers, musk,
rice, brandy, carpets, &c. The chief town is T ai-yuen-fu.
Pop. (1812) 14,004,210, (1843) 15,000,000.
SHAN-TUNG, a maritime province of China, bounded
on the N. by the gulf of Pe-che-li, E. and S.E. by the
Yellow Sea, S. by Kiang-su and Honan, W. and N.W. by
Pe-che-li. Area, 65,216 square miles. The eastern por¬
tion forms a peninsula projecting into the sea, and sepa¬
rating the gulf of Pe-che-li from the Yellow Sea. This
part is mountainous, but the rest of the province consists
of a plain traversed by the Imperial Canal. It is inter¬
sected by several rivers, but none of any great size fall into
the sea, if we except the Hoang-ho, which only forms the
boundary for a short distance. The coast is bold, and has
many harbours, but no large seaport towns. The chief pro¬
ductions are wheat, millet, indigo, coarse silk, and carpets.
Pop. (1812) 28,958,764, (1843) 30,000,000.
SHAPINSHAY. See Orkney.
SHARP, Abraham, an eminent English mathematician
and astronomer, was born at Little Horton, near Bradford,
in the year 1651. He was put as apprentice to a merchant
at Manchester, but so strongly was he inclined to the study
of mathematics that he soon found his situation both irk¬
some and disagreeable. By the mutual consent, therefore,
of his master and himself, he quitted the business of a mer¬
chant. He then removed to Liverpool, where he devoted
himself wholly to mathematical studies, and where, for a
subsistence, he taught writing and accounts. Soon after this,
a merchant from London, in whose house the celebrated
Flamsteed then lodged, engaged Sharp to be his book¬
keeper. With this eminent astronomer he soon contracted
an intimate friendship, and by his recommendation he ob¬
tained a more profitable employment in the dock-yard of
Chatham, where he continued till his friend and patron
called him to his assistance. Sharp was chiefly employed
in the construction of the mural arch, which he finished in
the couse of fourteen months, so entirely to the satisfaction
of Flamsteed, that he spoke of him in terms of the highest
praise. In the opinion of Smeaton, this was the first good
instrument of the kind, and Sharp the first artist who cut
delicate divisions on astronomical instruments. When this
instrument was constructed, Sharp was but twenty-five and
Flamsteed thirty years of age. Sharp assisted his friend
in making a catalogue of nearly three thousand fixed stars,
with their longitudes and magnitudes, their right ascensions
and polar distances, with the variations of the same while
they change their longitude by one degree. But, from the
fatigue of constantly observing the stars by nigbt in a cold
thin air, added to a weakly constitution, his health was
much impaired. For the recovery of it he requested leave
to retire to his house at Horton, where, as soon as he felt
himself recovering, he began to fit up an observatory of
his own; and the telescopes he made use of were all of his
own construction, and the lenses ground and adjusted with
his own hands.
It was about this time that he assisted Flamsteed in cal¬
culating most of the tables in the second volume of his
Historia Ccelestis, as appears by their letters, to be seen in
the hands of Sharp’s friends at Horton. Sharp, in 1717,
published an elaborate treatise on Geometry, which he
entitled Geometry Improved. He possessed a remarkably
clear head for contriving, and an extraordinary hand for
executing anything, not only in mechanics, but likewise in
drawing, writing, and making the most beautiful figures, in
all his calculations and constructions. The quadrature of
the circle was undertaken by him for his own amusement,
in the year 1699, deduced from two different series, by
which the truth of it was proved to seventy-two places of
figures, as may be seen in Sherwin’s Tables of Logarithms.
SHARP.
93
Sharp. In the same book may likewise be seen his ingenious im-
provements on the making of logarithms, and the construct¬
ing of the natural sines, tangents, and secants.
Sharp kept up a correspondence with most of the emi¬
nent mathematicians and astronomers of his time, as Flam¬
steed, Newton, Halley, Wallis, Hodgson, the answers to
whose letters are all written on the backs or empty spaces
of the letters he received, in a short hand of his own inven¬
tion. Being one of the most accurate and indefatigable
computers who ever existed, he was many years the com¬
mon resource for Flamsteed, Sir Jonas Moor, Halley, and
others, in all sorts of troublesome and delicate calculations.
Sharp was never married, and spent his time as a hermit.
He was of a middle stature, very thin, of a weakly consti¬
tution, and remarkably feeble during the last three or four
years before his death, which happened on the 18th of
July 1742, in the ninety-first year of his age. He was
very irregular as to his meals, and uncommonly sparing in
his diet. A little square hole, resembling a window, formed
a communication between the room where he usually
studied, and another where a servant could enter; and
before this hole he had contrived a sliding board. It often
happened, that the breakfast, dinner, and supper remained
untouched; and when the servant returned to remove the
dishes, the meal was found just as it had been left.
SHARP, Granville. See Slavery.
Sharp, James, Archbishop of St Andrews, was born
of a good family in Banffshire in the year 1618. He de¬
voted himself early to the church, and was educated for
that purpose in the University of Aberdeen. When the
solemn league and covenant was framed in 1638, the learned
men in that seminary, and young Sharp in particular, de¬
clared themselves decidedly against it. To avoid the insults
and indignities to which he was subjected in consequence
of this conduct, he retired to England, where he contracted
an acquaintance with some of the most celebrated divines
in that country. At the commencement of the civil wars
he returned to Scotland. During his journey thither, he
accidentally met with Lord Oxenford, who was so charmed
with his conversation that he invited him to his house.
While he resided with that nobleman, he became known
to the Earl of Rothes, who procured him a professorship
at St Andrews. By the interest of the Earl of Crawford,
he was soon afterwards appointed minister of Crail, where
he conducted himself, it is said, in an exemplary manner.
Sharp had always inclined to the cause of royalty, and had
for some time kept up a correspondence with his exiled
prince. After this he began to declare himself more openly,
and seems to have enjoyed a great share of the confidence
of Monk, who was at that time planning the restoration of
Charles II. When that general marched to London, the
presbyterians sent Sharp to attend him, in order to support
their interests. At the request of General Monk and the
chief presbyterians in Scotland, Mr Sharp was sent over to
the king at Breda, to procure from him, if possible, the
establishment of presbytery. On his return, he assured his
friends that “ he had found the king very aifectionate to
Scotland, and resolved not to wrong the settled government
ol the church ; but he apprehended they were mistaken
who went about to establish the presbyterian government.”
Charles was soon afterwards restored without any terms.
All the laws passed in Scotland since the year 1633 were
repealed ; the king and his ministers resolved at all hazards
to lestore prelacy. Sharp, who had been commissioned
by the Scotch presbyterians to manage their interests with
die king, was prevailed upon to abandon the party; and as
a reward for his compliance, he was made archbishop of St
Andrews. Ihis conduct rendered him very odious in
Scotland. He was accused of treachery and perfidy, and
leptcached by his old friends as a traitor and renegade.
he absurd and wanton cruelties which were afterwards
committed, and which were imputed in a great measure to
the archbishop, rendered him still more detested. Nor is
it probable that these accusations were without foundation.
The very circumstance of his having formerly been of the
presbyterian party would induce him, after forsaking them,
to treat them with severity. Besides, it is certain, that
when, after the rout at Pentland Hills, he received an order
from the king to stop the executions, he kept it for some
time before he produced it to the council.
Ihere was one Mitchell, a preacher, and a desperate
fanatic, who had formed the design of taking vengeance for
these cruelties by assassinating the archbishop. He fired
a pistol at him as he was sitting in his coach; but the
bishop of Orkney, lifting up his hand at the moment, inter¬
cepted the ball. Though this happened in the midst of
Edinburgh, the primate was so much detested, that nobody
stopped the assassin, who, having walked leisurely home,
and thrown off his disguise, returned, and mixed unsus¬
pected with the crowd. Some years afterwards, the arch¬
bishop observing a man eyeing him with keenness, sus¬
pected that he was the assassin, and ordered him to be
brought before him. It was Mitchell. Two loaded pistols
were found in his pocket. The primate offered him a
pardon if he would confess the crime. The man complied ;
but Sharp, regardless of his promise, conducted him to the
council. The council also gave him a solemn promise of
pardon, if he would confess his guilt, and discover his ac¬
complices. They were much disappointed to hear that
only one man was privy to his purpose, who was since dead.
Mitchell was then brought before a court of justice, and
ordered to make a third confession, which he refused. He
was imprisoned for several years, and then tried. His own
confession was urged against him. It was in vain for him
to plead the illegality of that evidence, and to appeal to
the promise of pardon previously given. The council took
an oath that they had given no such promise, and Mitchell
was condemned. Lauderdale, who at that time governed
Scotland, would have pardoned him, but the primate in¬
sisted on his execution, observing, that if assassins were
permitted to go unpunished, his life must be continually in
danger. Mitchell was accordingly executed.
Sharp had a servant, one Carmichael, who by his cruelty
had rendered himself particularly odious to the zealots.
Nine men formed the resolution of waylaying him in
Magus Moor, about three miles from St Andrews. While
they were waiting for this man, the primate himself ap¬
peared, with very few attendants. This they looked upon
as a declaration of Heaven in their favour ; and calling out,
“ The Lord has delivered him into our hands,” they ran
up to the carriage. They fired at him without effect, a
circumstance which was afterwards imputed to magic.
They then despatched him with their swords, regardless of
the tears and entreaties of his daughter, who accompanied
him. On the 3d of May 1679, thus fell Archbishop Sharp,
whose memory is even at present detested by the common
people of Scotland. His abilities were certainly good, and
in the early part of his life he appears with honour and
dignity. But his conduct afterwards was too cruel and
insincere to merit approbation. His treatment of Mitchell
wras mean and vindictive. How far he contributed to the
measures adopted against the Presbyterians is not certain.
They were equally cruel and impolitic; nor did their effects
cease with the measures themselves. The unheard-of
cruelties exercised by the ministers of Charles II. against
the adherents of the Covenant raised such a flame of enthu¬
siasm and bigotry as is not yet entirely extinguished.
Sharp, John, Archbishop of York, was descended from
the Sharps of little Norton, a family of Bradford Dale in
Yorkshire ; and was son of an eminent tradesman of Brad¬
ford, where he was born in 1644. He was educated at
Cambridge, and in 1667 entered into orders. The same
Sharp.
94 S H A
Sharp year he became domestic chaplain to Sir Heneage Finch,
II then attorney-general. In 1672 he was collated to the
Sharpe archdeaconry 0f Berkshire. In 1675 he was installed a
V r v y prebendary in the cathedral church of Norwich ; and the
year following was instituted into the rectory of St Bartho¬
lomew, near the I^oyal Exchange, London. In 1681 he
was, by the interest of his patron, Sir Heneage Finch, then
lord high chancellor of England, made dean of Norwich,
but in 1686 was suspended for taking occasion, in some of
his sermons, to vindicate the doctrine of the Church of
England in opposition to Popery. In 1688 he was sworn
chaplain to James II., being then probably restored after
his suspension; for it is certain that he was chaplain to
Charles II., and attended as a court chaplain at the coro¬
nation of James II. In 1689 he was declared dean of Can¬
terbury, but never could be persuaded to fill up any of the
vacancies made by the deprived bishops. Upon the death
of Dr Lamplugh, he was promoted to the see of York. In
1702 he preached the sermon at the coronation of Queen
Anne ; and the same year he was sworn of the privy council,
and made Lord Almoner to her Majesty. He died at Bath
in 1713, and was interred in the cathedral of York, where
a monument was erected to his memory. His sermons
were collected after his death and published in seven vols.
8vo. A Life of Archbishop Sharp, written by his son, Dr
Thomas Sharp, appeared in 2 vols. in 1829.
Sharp, William, an eminent line-engraver, was born
at London on the 29th of January 1749. He was ori¬
ginally apprenticed to what is called a bright engraver, but
gradually becoming inspired by the higher branches of the
engraver’s art, he exercised his gifts with surprising success
on works of the old masters. He engraved the “ Doctors
Disputing on the Immaculateness of the Virgin,” and the
“ Ecce Homo” of Guido Reni; the “ St Cecilia” of Do-
menichino ; the “ Virgin and Child” of Dolci; and the
portrait of “ John Hunter” of Sir Joshua Reynolds. The
latter work is considered a masterpiece in freedom and ac¬
curacy ; and, in a power which Shar^ possessed beyond all
engravers of his day, of representing the various textures
of his subject with wonderful skill. He died at Chiswick
on the 25th July 1824. Sharp, although shrewd-minded
in worldly matters, was one of the greatest visionaries in
matters pertaining to religion. No imposture was too gross
for him to accept, no deception too glaring for his eyes to
admire. The dreams of Mesmer, the rhapsodies of Brothers,
and the ravings of Joanna Southcott, found in Sharp a
staunch believer. At his death he enjoyed the honour ot
being a member of the Imperial Academy of Vienna, and
of the Royal Academy of Munich.
SHARPE, Daniel, an Engfish geologist, was born in
London in 1806. His mother, who died shortly after his
birth, was a sister of the poet Rogers. He was educated
at Walthamstow, and showed early a predilection for the
study of natural science. He became a member ot the
Geological Society in June 1829, and read a short memoir
the following year on a fine specimen of Ichthyosaurus,
from the lias of Stratford-on-Avon. It turned out that
this species of reptile had previously been noticed by Cony-
beare. During the next twenty years Sharpe’s attention
was much directed to the geology of Lisbon and Oporto,
and during these years he read numerous papers before the
Geological Society. He had been led thither by his pro¬
fession of a wine-merchant, and it was to his labours that
the society owes the greater part of its knowledge of the
geological structure ot the district of the Tagus. He exa¬
mined the relations of the earthquake of 1755 to the geolo¬
gical structure of the site of Lisbon, and found that while
all the buildings occupying the tertiary strata had been de¬
molished, those situated on the hippurite limestone and
basalt had entirely escaped. In 1848 he gave a detailed
account of the coal deposits of Vallongo, in Portugal, and
SHE
inclined to the opinion that this substance was really of the Shaster
Silurian age. Next year he combined a general sketch of ||
the geology of Portugal, with a notice of the structure of »nee-
the district north of the Tagus; and as this necessitated v~
great labour, he gained the assistance of various scientific
friends. He was enabled, by his critical examination of
organic remains, to present a lucid paper on the compaii-
son of the North American formations with those of Europe
in 1847. He reviewed the classifications of Belgium and
England in 1852, of South Westmoreland in 1842 and
1843, of the Bala Limestone in 1842, and of North Wales
in 1846. Sharpe likewise collected many papers, and de¬
voted much thought and labour to the subject of slaty
cleavage, on which he read his first memoir in 1846. He
engaged in an investigation of the geology of the High¬
lands of Scotland with Greenough, with the design of con¬
structing a new geological map of Scotland for the Geolo¬
gical Society of London. The account of his labours on
this district will be found in the Philosophical Pransactions
for 1852. He likewise wrote a paper on the Farringdon
gravels in 1853, which bespeaks his palaeontological indus¬
try. His elaborate essays on the ancient coins and inscrip¬
tions of Lycia, appended to the works of Fellows, Forbes,^
and Spratt, display in an eminent degree his knowledge of
philology and ethnology. He was Fellow of the Royal,
Linnean, and Zoological Societies, and occupied at the
time of his death, which happened on the 31st of May 1856
(occasioned by a fall from his horse), the post of President
of the Royal Geological Society, to which so much of his
labour and so large a portion of his time had been devoted
for more than a quarter of a century.
SHASTER. See Brahmins.
SHATZK, or Schazk, a town of European Russia, on
the Shatzka, in the government of Tambov, 38 miles N. of
Morshansk. It has 5 churches, several schools, a benevo¬
lent institution, manufactures of hardware, and a consider¬
able trade. Pop. 6207.
SHAW, Dr Thomas, known to the learned world by
his Travels to Barbary and the Levant, was born at Kendal,
in Westmoreland, about the year 1692. He was appointed
chaplain to the English consul at Algiers, in which station
he continued for several years; and thence took proper
opportunities of travelling into different parts. He returned
in 1733, was elected fellow of the Royal Society, and pub¬
lished the account of his travels at Oxford, 1738, folio. In
1740 he was nominated principal of St Edmund Hall, which
he raised from a ruinous state by his munificence; and was
regius professor of Greek at Oxford until his death, which
happened in 1751. Dr Clayton, bishop of Clogher, having
attacked these Travels in his Description of the East, Dr
Shaw published, by way of vindication, a supplement, which
is incorporated into the second edition of his Travels, pre¬
pared by himself, and published in 1757, 4to.
SHAWLS. See Woollen Manufactures and Weav¬
ing.
SHEE, Sir Martin Archer, a portrait-painter, and
president of the Royal Academy, was born in Dublin on
the 23d of December 1770. He was sprung from an old
Irish family, and his father, while he exercised the trade
of a merchant, regarded the profession of a painter as in
no sense a fit occupation for a descendant of the Shees.
Young Shee became, nevertheless, a student of art in the
Dublin Society, and came early to London, where he was,
in 1788 introduced to the notice of Sir Joshua Reynolds
by the youth’s illustrious friend and countryman Edmund
Burke. Having entered as a student in the Royal Aca¬
demy in 1789, he contributed the same year his first two
pictures to the exhibition, the “ Head of an Old Man”
and “ Portrait of a Gentleman.” During the next ten years
he steadily increased in practice, and was gradually gaining
ground among the aristrocracy, with whom his suavity and
SHE
Sheerness, manners were a great recommendation. Lord Spencer
was the first nobleman who honoured his studio with his
portrait, and his example was soon followed by dukes and
marquises in abundance. Lawrence, however, had an en¬
tire monopoly of the ladies. Shee was chosen an associate
of the Royal Academy in 1798, shortly after the illustrious
Flaxman, and in 1800 he was made a Royal Academician.
He now removed to Romney’s house in Cavendish Square,
and set up as the legitimate successor of that artist. Shee
continued to paint with great readiness of hand and fer¬
tility of invention, although his portraits were eclipsed by
more than one of his contemporaries, and especially by
Lawrence, Hoppner, Phillips, Jackson, and Raeburn.
He had a fine eye for colour, but one of his most glaring de¬
fects was a deficiency in proportion. In 1805 he came out
with a poem consisting of Rhymes on Art, and it was suc¬
ceeded by a second part in 1809. Although Byron spoke
well of it in his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, and
invoked a place for “ Shee and Genius” in the temple of
fame, yet as nature had not originally conjoined these two, it
is to be feared that even a poet’s invocation could not ma¬
terially affect their relations. Shee published another small
volume of verses in 1814, entitled The Commemoration of
Sir Joshua Reynolds and other Poems, but this effort did
not greatly increase his fame. He now modified his thea¬
trical experience by writing a tragedy called Alasco, of which
the scene was laid in Poland. The play was accepted at
Covent Garden, and in the fertile fancy of the poet the play
had already gained for him a great dramatic fame, when
Colman, the licenser, refused it his sanction, on the plea
of its containing certain treasonable allusions, and Shee, in
great wrath, resolved to make his appeal to the public.
This violent threat he carried out in 1824; but unfortun¬
ately the public found other business to mind, and Alasco
is still on the list of unacted dramas.
On the death of Lawrence in 1830, Shee was chosen
President of the Royal Academy, more from a regard to his
elegant addresses than for any artistic genius with which
he was held to be endowed. Wilkie was a candidate, but
he had little else than genius in his profession to recom¬
mend him, and of course Shee’s fluency of speech and
courtly address were of much more consequence in the
academic chair than the reserved manner and undecided
utterance of a much greater man. Shortly after Shee
received the honour of knighthood. He continued to paint
till 1845, and died five years afterwards, on the 13th of
August 1850, in his eightieth year.
SHEERNESS, a seaport and market-town of England,
in the county of Kent, on the north-west corner of the Island
of Sheppey, at the confluence of the Medway with the
.Thames, 20 miles N.N.E. of Maidstone, and 47 E. by S.
of London. It consists of three parts, Sheerness proper,
Bluetown, and Miletown ; the first contains the dockyards
and fortresses, and this, as well as the second, is encircled
by fortifications, beyond which lies the suburb called Mile-
town. The town has been much improved, especially within
recent years, and now contains several handsome streets,
with good brick houses. The dockyard and buildings con¬
nected with it occupy an area of 69 acres, enclosed by a
brick wall. Here there are all the establishments neces¬
sary for the building, repairing, and equipment of ships.
here is a basin or wet-dock 520 feet by 300, covering an
area of 3£ acres; two others of smaller size; three dry
docks, each 248 feet by 88; sheers for lifting masts, 127
feet high ; a building slip ; store-houses, joiners’ and smiths’
shops; residences for the commander-in-chief, and various
other officials ; besides an ordinance-office, and heavy bat¬
teries of 100 guns. The dockyard is built on piles; and
since 1815 about 3,000,000 sterling have been laid out
upon its improvement. Near the dock-gates stands a
arge and handsome chapel, attached to the garrison ; and
SHE
95
in the town is a Gothic district church, belonging to the SheffipH
parish of Minster. The other places of worship belong to v
the Wesleyan Methodists, the Baptists, the Roman Catho¬
lics, and the Jews. There are also various schools, a me¬
chanics’ institute, reading societies, and a savings bank.
A county court is held in the town, and there are weekly
markets. The trade is very considerable; but depends
chiefly on the dockyards, although corn and seeds from
the Isle of Sheppey, and oysters from the adjacent banks,
are conveyed to London. Copperas is manufactured at a
short distance from Sheerness, the materials being supplied
in abundance from the multitude of pyrites found in the
rocks to the east. Sheerness is resorted to as a sea-bath¬
ing place to a considerable extent. There is a pier 1000
yards long, for the steamers that ply daily between this
and London. 1 he town is of comparatively recent origin,
as it is not yet 200 years since its foundation. In the time
of the Commonwealth, the site was a mere swamp, on which
a fort with 12 guns was built after the Restoration. But
before the works could be completed, the Dutch, in 1667,
entered the 1 hames, and took and destroyed the fort. It
was afterwards restored and enlarged, the dockyard was esta¬
blished, which has become one of the finest in Europe, and
additions were made to the works at various subsequent
times. In 1797, Sheerness was threatened by the mutiny
of the fleet at the Nore; but was saved by the suppression
of that movement in the same year. The town suffered
from an extensive conflagration in 1827, but was speedily
restored in a superior style. Pop. 8549.
SHEFFIELD is an ancient manufacturing town, near
the southern extremity of the West Riding of Yorkshire,
and about 160 miles N.N.W. of London. The manor of
Sheffield, with several of the adjacent manors, was anciently
called Hallamshire, and its lord had his castle at the con¬
fluence of the rivers Sheaf and Don. The name Sheffield
is commonly supposed to be derived from the Sheaf. In
Doomsday Booh the town is called Escafelt, and antiquaries
derive its name from the British word ea, water. The
Don is the principal river, and at or near the town it re¬
ceives the waters of its tributaries, the Sheaf, the Porter,
the Loxley, and the Rivelin. All these have their source
in the high moors a few miles west, south-west, and north¬
west of the town. To the abundant water-power thus
supplied, and to the coal and iron obtained here at a very
early period, may be ascribed the devotion of Sheffield to
working in iron and steel. The valleys are studded with
grinding-wheels and tilts, worked by water-power. These
valleys are separated from each other by bold and steep hills,
and though the effect is to render the neighbourhood re¬
markably picturesque and beautiful, in the town the ine¬
qualities of surface have their inconveniences, for some of
the streets are so steep as to be quite unsuited for loaded
vehicles. A hundred years ago Sheffield was described as
a smoky town, but now the reasons for that reproach are
increased ten thousand times. A bye-law of the corporation
requires the consumption of smoke from steam-engines, and
the manufacturers have incurred great expense in endea¬
vouring to obey the law, with only partial success. Besides
the Castle of Sheffield, the Earls of Shrewsbury, who were
its lords for 200 years, had a lodge or manor-house in a finely
wooded park, a mile east of the town. The greater part
of the captivity of Queen Mary of Scotland was passed at
the castle and manor-house at Sheffield. The castle was
demolished by order of parliament in 1648. Only such
names as Castlehill, Castlegreen, &c., remain to mark the
site. The manor-house has crumbled away under the hand
of time, and only a few poor traces are left. The park was
divided into farms in 1707, but the district still bears its old
name. By the marriage of the heiress of the seventh Earl
of Shrewsbury with a member of the house of Howard, the
estates have passed to the Duke of Norfolk. The present
96
Sheffield.
duke has had a mansion called “ The Farm,” immediately
adjoining the town, enlarged and furnished for his occa¬
sional residence. During the suit brought by Lord lalbot
successfully in 1858, to support his claim to the earldom
of Shrewsbury, the Shrewsbury vault under the chancel of
the parish church was searched for evidence, but without
result. The modern history of Sheffield has been for the
most part peaceful, but on the night of the 11th January
1840 the town narrowly escaped from a Chartist conspiracy
to burn and capture it. The scheme was not disclosed to
the authorities till almost the last hour. Sheffield has grown
rapidly during the present century. The population of the
borough is four times as great as it was at census of 1801,
being now computed at 180,000. At the census of 1851 it
was 135,307. The rateable value of the property of the
borough was L.272,161 in 1848, and L.425,044 in 1859.
The parochial and municipal taxes for the years ending in
1858 and 1859 were from L.96,000 to L.98,000 each year.
The town and neighbourhood of Sheffield are indisput¬
ably the chief seat of the following important manufactures:
—Cast, shear, and blister steel, of all kinds; steel wire;
railway and carriage springs ; buffers ; files ; saws ; all kinds
of joiners’, masons’, shipwrights’, and mechanics’ edge-tools
generally; scythes, sickles, hay and straw knives; table,
pocket, shoe, butchers’, and similar cutlery of every variety ;
all classes of silver, silver-plated, electro-plated, German
silver, Britannia, and other white-metal goods; women’s and
tailors’ scissors and shears ; razors ; silver and silver-plated
cutlery; sheep-shears, skates, spades, and shovels; surgical
instruments; many kinds of horticultural and agricultural
tools; adzes, axes, hatchets, hammers, augers, hoes, bill¬
hooks, See., in all varieties of pattern and quality. In a more
limited sense, too, this town is an important seat of such
manufactures as those of hair-seating and curled hair;
combs of all kinds ; powder-flasks and shot-belts; optical
instruments; needles, fish-hooks, awls; stove-grates, and
fine foundry-work of all varieties ; many kinds of machinery,
and railway and mining tools. The manufacture of snuft
is also carried on here on an extensile scale, Messrs W il-
son and Co. and J. and H. Wilson producing an article,
as snuff-takers know, which has a reputation almost equal
to that of the celebrated pocket-knives of the Messrs
Rodgers themselves. This list of trades is very different
from that given in the charter of the Cutlers’ Company
in 1624, which enumerated only “knives, scissors, shears,
sickles, and other cutlery.” The natural advantages of
this neighbourhood, however, for the production of hard¬
ware are sufficiently pre-eminent to have justified the ex¬
pectation of a still larger extension of local industry,
and of course a proportionate increase in the town itself.
There can be no doubt that the dominating power and in¬
fluence of the trades’ unions have tended, by making skilled
labour artificially dear, and by stereotyping the occupations
of men too much, first, to encourage foreign manufacturers,
especially in Germany and the United States; and, second,
to discourage attempts to introduce and localise any new and
experimental manufactures, to the success of which cheap,
abundant, and unprejudiced mechanical skill was absolutely
essential. In spite of all this, however, energy and perse¬
verance on the side of the masters, and the crushing effect
of reason and experience on the side of the men, have been
sufficient, in a great degree, to override the suicidal effects
of trade combinations. It is a law in commerce, that if a
trade be once fairly wrested from a locality, it never can
be wholly, or even materially, recovered. This is the expe¬
rience of Sheffield. Whatever branches of manufacture
the policy of trades’ unions has thrown into the hands of the
Americans or the Germans, they keep; but they will not
easily take any more. Meanwhile, the new employments of
the town are rapidly growing into importance. It has been
stated by one of the principal manufacturers of railway-
SHEFFIELD.
springs, that the quantity of them made weekly in Sheffield Sheffield,
is 150 tons. The buffer trade is increased at a correspond-
ing rate. Twenty years ago it was estimated that about
700 tons of Swedish iron were annually brought to Sheffield,
and converted into steel. Since that time experience and
competition have ftn*ced English irons to a very large
amount into use for the purpose of making steel, and hence
the importation of Swedish and other foreign marks, though
not perhaps on the decline, is almost stationary. Some of
the principal railway-spring makers have recently erected
puddling furnaces, and produce their own malleable iron
from the pig-metal. They can thus combine the various
kinds of iron best suited to their purpose. East Indian
and Nova Scotian irons are coming into use among other
varieties. From the statistics furnished by Messrs San¬
derson and Unwin, of Sheffield, to Mr Tylor, for his re¬
port on metal work in the Paris Exhibition, we gather that,
in 1856, there were in Sheffield 206 converting or blister
steel furnaces, and 2113 melting boles, or cast-steel fur¬
naces. At the rate of 250 tons each per annum, the blister
steel furnaces were estimated to have produced 51,500 tons
of steel, of which 37,800 tons were then made into cast-
steel, and the rest sold as bar, German, faggot, spring, and
shear steel. If the cast-steel be taken as worth L.40, and
the rest at L.25 per ton, it will be found that, in 1856,
steel to the value of L.1,854,500 was made in Sheffield.
From what has been already said, it will be inferred that
the trade of Sheffield is very widely spread. In truth,
every country abroad, as well as the whole home-market,
are directly or indirectly her customers. Next to the home
trade, perhaps no other calls for a larger quantity of goods
than that of the United States and British North America.
Australia, South America, both east and west coast, and
the Cape of Good Hope, are, however, excellent markets ;
and the demand for steel, files, saws, railway-springs and
buffers, and tools generally, of course naturally springs up
wherever railways are being constructed, or ships and ma¬
chinery built. At present Russia, several other European
countries, and India, are large purchasers of these classes of
goods. From the fact that reliable local statistics are very
difficult to prociye (the nature of the trades not rendering
any attention to these points necessary), it is impossible to
say, with much approach to accuracy, how the population
is divided as regards employment in the various trades.
The rate of wages, however, usually paid in some depart¬
ments of labour can be ascertained with greater truth.
According to returns made at the request of Mr Fon-
blanque, at the head of the statistical department of the
Board of Trade, the average wages, per day, paid in the
following trades (taking the trades in whole and not in
detail) during 1855-56-57, were :—
Steel*  3s. 6d. to 8s. Od.
Springs   6s. Od. to 8s. Od.
Stove-grates... 4s. Od. to 7s. Od.
Silver-platers.. 4s. Od. to 8s. Od.
Britannia metal
makers  Is. 4d. to 6s. Od.
Table-knives... 2s. 6d. to 7s. Od.
Pocket-knives 3s. Od. to 7s. Od.
Razors  2s. 6d. to 8s. Od.
Scissors  3s. 3d. to 5s. 6d.
Files  3s. 9d. to 8s. Od.
Sawsi  4s. Od. to 8s. Od.
Tools  5s. Od. to 7s. Od.
When it is borne in mind, that as a rule the families of
the working classes here occupy separate houses, and that
cellars or “flats” are unknown as human habitations, it
will be obvious that a very great degree of comfort is
within the reach of the working-man, and that it is his own
fault if, with such wages and such collateral advantages, he
is not a thriving man, and his family well fed, well clothed,
and decently educated.
In 1832 Sheffield was empowered to return two mem¬
bers to parliament; and in 1843 it was incorporated by
royal charter. The parliamentary and municipal borough
is co-extensive with the old parish of Sheffield, which con¬
sists of six townships. The parliamentary voters are about
SHEFFIELD.
Sheffield. 7000, and the names on the burgess-roll about 19,000.
It is ascertained that a L.6 rental qualification would en¬
franchise about 20,000 voters ; and a rating, 11,000.
The town has a bench of borough magistrates, but no
separate court of quarter sessions. Persons committed for
trial are sent to the West Riding quarter sessions, or to
the assizes at York. The old manorial courts, for the re¬
covery of debts to the amount of L.5, have been superseded
by the county court, with jurisdiction up to L.50, and hold¬
ing frequent sittings here. The Sheffield barracks, erected
in 1794, having become too small, as well as dilapidated,
were pulled down in 1855, having been replaced by new
barracks, occupying a site of 25^ acres. They have since
been further extended. A free library, maintained by rate,
was established in 1856. In 1859 it had 9119 volumes,
and the issue of books for the year was 125,555. Most of
the church and chapel yards having been closed as places
of interment in 1855, and the Sheffield Cemetery, estab¬
lished in 1836, being insufficient to meet the case, several
new township cemeteries have been formed^ Previous to
1820 Sheffield had only its old parish church, built 1110;
St Paul s and St James’, built during the last century ; and
two small chapels of ease in out-townships. Since that
time a vast increase of ecclesiastical buildings has taken
place. Between 1820 and 1830 four churches were built
under “ the million act.” During the following years, and
chiefly during the last fifteen, a crowd of new churches has
been built and endowed by voluntary effort. In 1846,
the old parish of Sheffield was divided into twenty-five
parochial districts, which are for the most part independent
of the old parochial head, except that the old parish of
Sheffield now forms a deanery, of which the Vicar of Shef¬
field is the rural dean. Most of the new districts or parishes
are already supplied with churches. Of old and new
churches there are now twenty-three, and others are pro¬
jected or in progress. The Nonconformist bodies have
nearly doubled their places of worship since 1833. They
now number about forty. The Roman Catholics have re¬
placed their small chapel, erected in 1814, by a large and
handsome church, with a spire rivaling that of the ancient
parish church. In 1856 they erected a smaller church in
another part of the town. Both these churches have
schools. A school has also been erected near the residence
of the Duke of Norfolk, and a convent and school of the
Sisters of Notre Dame has been established. All the reli¬
gious denominations have their Sunday schools, and in
connection with many places of worship are efficient day-
schools. It is to be regretted that the people do not fully
avail themselves of the many facilities for education offered
to them.
Among the educational establishments of the town are
the People’s College, a self-supporting institution, conduct¬
ing efficient day and evening classes ; the Church of
England Educational Institute, managed by several of the
cleigy and influential laymen with great success; and the
Mechanics Institution, which here languishes. The Go¬
vernment School of Art at Sheffield is one of the best con¬
ducted of these institutions in the provinces. The Weslev
College and the Collegiate School (Church of England),
with the old endowed Grammar School, are the principal
institutions, excepting private schools, for the education of
the middle classes.
The Cutlers’ Company, known throughout the kingdom
by its anniversary, called the “Cutlers’ Feast,” had its
origin in the sixteenth century in certain trade regulations,
'Vi °i ^ °PP0Sed to modern ideas, “ agreed upon by the
whole fellowshippe of cutlers,” sanctioned by the then
ar o Shrewsbury, and enrolled among the records of
is manor court. The company was incorporated by statute
n. . e ^st James I., but its restrictive powers, having been
mitigated in 1801, were swept away in 1814. It has since
VOL. XX.
had little further power than to grant marks to the manu¬
facturers of “knives, sickles, shears, scissors, and other
cutlery wares.” Application will be made to parliament in
1860 for a new act, to enable the company to admit the
“ makers of razors, files, forks, saws, edge-tools, and other
articles of steel, or steel and iron combined, having a cut-
ting edge, and manufacturers of steel.” This measure is
necessary to reinvigorate the company, which is the trustee
of several important charities. Sheffield is well and cheaply
supplied with gas and water by joint-stock companies.
I he relations of Sheffield to the railway system were for
many years unsatisfactory. Surrounded by hills, except
on the north-east, it suffered peculiar disadvantages. In
1838, the Sheffield and Rotherham line connected it with
the Midland, which was soon after opened. In 1845 a line
was opened from Manchester to Sheffield ; and in 1849 the
line was continued eastward to New Holland, on the Hum¬
ber, and Grimsby, on the Lincolnshire coast. Till 1857
this line was allied to the London and North-Western, but
in that year a treaty was made with the Great Northern,
which thus obtained access to Manchester, and put Sheffield
on a main line from that town to London. Out of this
change of policy arose the memorable war of 1857-8 be¬
tween the London and North-Western and the Great
Northern. By the South Yorkshire Railway, Sheffield has
connection with Barnsley, Doncaster, and Goole; and by
the canal made in 1818, now in the hands of this company,
it has water communication with the Humber. The old
private banks of Sheffield have been replaced by joint-
stock companies. Freehold land societies, formed to pur¬
chase estates; and divide them in allotments among thriving
artisans and small tradesmen, were introduced here in 1849,
and have been very successful. Up to 1858 these societies
had purchased thirty estates, containing 477 acres, for
L.96,000. They had spent in drains, roads, and fencing,
about L.29,700, and in buildings about L.l30,000. They
had formed 2600 allotments, at an average cost of L.48.
Upwards of seventy acres more have since been purchased.
The present value of the allotments, with the buildings
upon them, is estimated at L.400,000.
Sheffield is rather behind other large towns in facilities
for the amusement and recreation of the inhabitants. There
is great want of a capacious public hall for the holding of
important meetings and for popular concerts. The town-
hall, built fifty years ago, is inadequate to the present ne¬
cessities of the town. The corporation, instead of erecting
a hall, have rented the old assembly rooms. The botanical
gardens, consisting of eighteen acres, beautifully situated,
are well maintained. The Duke of Norfolk has laid out a
park on the east side of the town for the benefit of the
public.
The benevolent institutions of the town are well sus¬
tained. The infirmary, opened in 1797, has been consider¬
ably enlarged. Hospital wards have this year (1859) been
added to the public dispensary. The Shrewsbury Hospital,
opened in 1673, the s Hollis’ Hospital of 1703, and the
Licensed Victuallers’ Asylum of 1848, afford refuge for
decayed and deserving old people. The Deakin insti¬
tution, established in 1852, grants pensions to unmarried
females above forty years of age, and has conferred a great
boon on a number of ladies reduced to very deplorable cir¬
cumstances. The savings bank has made moderate pro¬
gress, and is well managed. In 1832, its deposits were
L.89,085; in 1836, L.147,136; in 1858, L.276,738.
During the last thirty years the social habits of the town
have greatly changed. It has become the custom of nearly
all the manufacturers and richer tradesmen to reside in the
suburbs, and luxury has immensely increased. The streets
in the centre of the town are now thronged with cabs,
omnibuses, and other vehicles, but they still remain narrow,
crooked, and steep, as they were fifty years ago. In 1852,
97
Sheffield.
98
SHEFFIELD.
Sheffield, an act was obtained, under which several much-needed
bridges, with approaches, have been made, and a rate at
3d. in the pound is expected to defray the cost in from
twenty to thirty years. Two attempts to obtain an act of par¬
liament to improve the town in sanitary and other arrange¬
ments, have been defeated by popular hostility. Sheffield is
well situated for drainage, but as no power exists to make
drains on a comprehensive, plan, independently of town¬
ship boundaries, each township pours its separate contribu¬
tion into the rivers flowing through the town, by which
they are rendered very pernicious and offensive.
In regard to the sanitary state of Sheffield, we are in¬
debted for the following particulars to C. J. Shearman,
Esq., M.D., who has been engaged in elaborate investiga¬
tions on the subject:—
According to the returns of the Registrar-General, the
gross mortality of Sheffield is 1 to each 27 of the popula¬
tion, male and female ; whereas the normal mortality of
England, when free from pre-disposing causes of disease,
is 1 in 17. One great cause of this increase of mortality
is the prevalence of children’s diseases. The mortality of
males and females per cent, at each age, calculated for the
7 years 1848-54 inclusive, is below :—
Ages.
5
10
15
25
35
45
55
65
75
85
95
and over
Sheffield.
1-196
•6546
1-557
•986
1- 311
2- 093
3- 502
6-618
11-401
22-03
England.
•925
•514
•822
•997
1-260
1-839
3-190
6-721
14-696
30-202
46-169
Females.
Ages.
5
10
15
25
35
45
55
65
75
85
95
and over
Sheffield.
1-166
•4528
1-286
1-015
1-390
1- 699
2- 651
5-172
9-312
13-63
15-55
England.
•922
•535
•851
1051
1-274
1- 589
2- 834
6-026
13-446
27-917
45-200
The mortality of children’s diseases for the same years
being to 100 population—
Smallpox "07
Measles ’ll
Scarlet fever -1.7
Hooping cough... -09
Croup  "03
Diarrhoea "03
Water on the 1
brain j
Scrofula "008
Typhus fever ...
Erysipelas  
Hydrocephalus.,
Tabes Mesent-1
erica )
Diabetes 
Inebria 
Scrofula  
Atrophy  
Quinsey  
Bronchitis  
Hydrothera 
•004
•008
•076
•000
•000
•0007
•004
•022
•0007
•0005
■001
Pleurisy 1 .2
Pneumonia )
Asthma   "005
Consumptive 1
disease of > ’48
lung J
Cardiac   -0035
Hepatitis  "006
Jaundice  "006
Liver disease ... "02
Dropsy  "061
The births for the same years were in the proportion of 1 to
each 24 of the population annually.
From the returns of the Registrar of Sheffield (arranged
through the kind permission of the Registrar-General), the
following results are deduced as to the mortality in 81
occupations, the majority of which are peculiar to Shef¬
field :—
Mortality per cent, of out-door heavy occupations 
» .. » fight >.  
„ in-door heavy „  t
» „ 5, fight. »  
,, „ masons and bricklayers Do
„ „ file-cutters 
„ „ cutlers, fitters, bench-work tailors, l
shoemakers, &c j
„ „ merchants, manufacturers,and gentle-1 2.g
men J
,, „ labourers ^'0
,, „ grinders ^‘7
The grinders suffer markedly from diseases of the lungs,
of which one disease has been considered peculiar to them
—grinder’s asthma or rot—induced by inhaling the dust
from the grinding-stones. It is most prevalent among dry
grinders. This affection is less common than in former
years, from the dust being carried off in many factories by
a fan. Bronchitis and pneumonia are the other prevailing
causes of death in this class. Gentlemen suffer most from
intestinal, stomach, liver, and kidney diseases , consider- Sheffield,
ably less than other large towns from tubercular disease,
either general or of the lungs \ and aie pi one to the in¬
road of typhus and other fevers. Cutlers aie much affected
with diseases of the heart and inflammation of the lungs,
with secondary affections of the abdomen, more particularly
after the 40th year of age. They suffer less from con¬
sumptive disease, but are prone to attacks of continued and
remittent fever. The other occupations carried on in shops,
as fitters, engaged in brass, Britannia metal, and German
silver work, &c., are especially liable to disease of tbe
heart, apoplexy, disease of the liver, and fever; less so to
consumption. File-cutters suffer little from tubercular
disease of the lungs after 35 years of age ; but after that
time most markedly from apoplexy, pleurisy, liver disease,
and secondary abdominal disease, partly induced by cutting
on lead. The other occupations present no great peculiar¬
ity of inducing special diseases.
The mortality percent, from various diseases of Sheffield
for the years 1848 to 1854 is annually to the living popu¬
lation as follows:—
Smallpox  "076
Measles  *11
Scarlatina  "Ifi
Hooping cough.. -076
Croup   "036
Thrush  -0007
Diarrhsea  "036
Dysentery   "000
Cholera   '0003
Influenza  "000
Ague   -000
Remittent fever "C04
Habits of improvidence, fostered by the high scale of
wages, marked tendency to free living both in the opera¬
tive and employer, together with a malarious character of
atmosphere, are the chief agents in raising the rate of mor¬
tality in Sheffield. The state of the rivers, and the prox¬
imity of some of the reservoirs which supply the town,
furnish the latter element of disease. The great proportion
of publicans to the population (1 to 142 over 20 years of
age) is an indication of the state of supply and demand of
this agent of disease.
The chief book of authority on the history, antiquities,
&c., of Sheffield is The History of Hallamshire, by the Rev-
Joseph Hunter, F.S.A., published in folio in 1819. (r. l.)
SHEFFIELD, How, Duke of Buckinghamshire, an emi¬
nent statesman, poet, and wit of England, was born in 1649.
He lost his father at nine years of age; and his mother having
married again, the care of his education was left entirely
to a governor, who did not greatly improve him in his
studies. Finding that he was deficient in many parts of
literature, he resolved to devote a certain number of hours
every day to his studies, and thereby improve himself
to the degree of learning which he afterwards attained.
Though possessed of a good estate, he did not abandon
himself to pleasure and indolence, but entered as a volun¬
teer in the second Dutch war, and was in that famous
naval engagement where the Duke of York commanded
as admiral; upon which occasion his lordship behaved so
gallantly, that he was appointed commander of the Royal
Catherine. He afterwards made a campaign in the French
service under M. de Turenne. As Tangier was in danger
of being taken by the Moors, he offered to head the forces
which were sent to defend it, and accordingly was appointed
to command them. He was then Earl of Mulgrave, and
one of the lords of the bed-chamber to Charles II. The
Moors retired on the approach of his Majesty’s forces; and
the result of the expedition was the blowing up of Tangier.
He continued in several great posts during the short reign
of James II., till that unfortunate prince was dethroned.
Lord Mulgrave, though he paid his respects to King Wil¬
liam before he was advanced to the throne, yet did not ac-
SHE
Shehr cept of any post in the government until some years after-
|j wards* In the sixth year of William and Mary he was
Shcil. cveated Marquis of Normandy in the county of Lincoln.
He was one of the most active and zealous opponents of
the bill which took away Sir John Fenwick’s life ; and
exerted the utmost vigour in carrying through the Treason
Bill, and the bill for Triennial Parliaments. He enjoyed
some considerable posts under King William, and possessed
much of his favour and confidence. In 1702 he was sworn
lord privy-seal; and in the same year was appointed one of
the commissioners to treat of an union between England
and Scotland. In 1703 he was created Duke of Normandy,
and soon after Duke of Buckinghamshire. In 1711 he was
made steward of her Majesty’s household and president of
the council. During Queen Anne’s reign he was but once
out of employment; and then he voluntarily resigned, be¬
ing a confirmed Tory. Her Majesty offered to make him
lord chancellor, but he declined the office. He was in¬
strumental in the change of the ministry in 1710. A cir¬
cumstance that reflects the highest honour on him, is the
vigour with which he acted in favour of the unhappy Cata¬
lans, who were afterwards so inhumanly sacrificed. He
died in 1721.
He was thrice married. By his two first wives he had
no children; by his third, who was a daughter of King
James by the Countess of Dorchester, and the widow of
the Earl of Anglesey; he had besides other children, who
died young, a son born in 1716, and who died at Rome in
1735, and put an end to the line of Sheffield. He was
admired by the poets of his age; by Dryden, Pope, Prior,
and Garth. His Essay on Poetry was applauded by Addi¬
son, and his Rehearsal is still read with pleasure. His
writings were splendidly printed in 1723, in two volumes
4to, and have since been reprinted in 1729, in two volumes
8vo. 1 he first contains his poems on various subjects ; the
second, his prose works, consisting of historical memoirs,
speeches in Parliament, characters, dialogues, critical ob¬
servations, essays, and letters. It may be proper to observe,
that the edition of 1729 is castrated, some particulars re¬
lating to the revolution having given offence. Dr Johnson
remarks on Sheffield, that “ criticism is no longer softened
by his bounties or awed by his splendour, and being able
to take a more steady view, discovers him to be a writer
that sometimes glimmers but rarely shines, feebly laborious,
and at best but pretty. His songs are upon common
topics ; he mopes and grieves, and repents and despairs,
and rejoices, like any other maker of little stanzas; to be
great he hardly tries ; to be gay is hardly in his power. . . .
His verses are often insipid, but his memoirs are lively and
agreeable ; he had the perspicuity and elegance of an his¬
torian, but not the fire and fancy of a poet.” (Cunning¬
ham’s edition of Johnson’s Lives of the Poets, 1854.)
SHEHR, a seaport on the south-east coast of Arabia,
32 miles E.N.E. of Makallah ; N. Eat. 14. 43., E. Long.
49. 40. It stretches about a mile along the shore, and con¬
sists of houses, for the most part large and good, irregularly
grouped together. Ihe chief buildings are a castle, where
a^ sultan resides, a custom-house, and several mosques.
Coarse cotton-cloth, gunpowder, and arms are manufactured
here ; and a considerable trade is carried on. There is an
open roadstead about a mile from the shore, with good an¬
chorage. Pop. 6000.
SHEIL, Richard Lalor, the son of Edward Shell,
who, in his early years, had made a considerable fortune as
a merchant at Cadiz, was born on the 17th of August 1791,
at Drumdowney, a small country house, then occupied by
ms family previously to the completion of Bellevue, near
Waterford, which his father had recently purchased. The
wme of the childhood of Sheil was situated amid charming
scenery, on the left bank of the Suir. On the mind of the
moody and imaginative boy it made a deep and lasting im-
S H E
pression. His first instructions w'ere received in French
and Latin from a French Abbe; and he was subsequently
conducted to Kensington-House School, London, an insti¬
tution, presided over by Monsieur le Prince de Broglie, for
the children of French refugees. Having spent some short
time here, where the instruction was miserably defective,
he next proceeded to a Jesuit school at Stoneyhurst, near
Clitheroe in Lancashire, on the 24th of October 1804.
Here he soon rose to a distinguished position in the school,
and seems even then to have formed plans for his future
conduct, which implied either a strong natural disposition
to dramatic oratory, or an eminent degree of quickness and
sagacity in divining where the power of the public speaker
lay. In recitation, it was observed, he displayed singular
flexibility of intonation, and a matchless ear for rhythm;
but laboured under the almost insuperable difficulty, and one
from which he never recovered, of having a sharp, squeak¬
ing, tuneless voice. He left Stoneyhurst in 1807, and
entered I rinity College, Dublin, and subsequently resolved
to study for the bar. Meanwhile his father had been ruined
by commercial speculations, and his family had removed to
Dublin. He took his degree of bachelor of arts in July
1811, and shortly after entered Lincoln’s Inn, recently
opened to Roman Catholics, to study for the Irish bar.
Sheil was a leader in all public societies, both in Dublin and
London, constantly declaiming or debating, according to
the temper of those among whom he moved. His speeches
were more noted for their gorgeous display of imagination
than for the harder elements of argument; but the forensic
club of Lincoln’s Inn did much to correct this extravagant
tendency in the young Irish lawyer. One catches a glimpse
of a very attractive speech, delivered by Sheil about this
time, on the side of the Vetoists, in O’Connell’s rude cas¬
tigation of it, when that brilliant speaker “rose to unravel
the flimsy web of sophistry which was hid beneath the tinsel
glare of meretricious ornament.” Making allowance for the
rhetorical tricks in which the great “ Agitator” was fond of
indulging, this criticism at least lays bare, in a somewhat
rough manner, the darling sin of Sheil’s early days of speech¬
making.
Richard Sheil was called to the bar in 1814, and con¬
trived to eke out his scanty revenue by writing some really
successful dramas. These were, Adelaide, 1816; the
Apostate, 1817; Bellamira, 1818; Evadne, a rifacimento
of Shirley’s Traitor, 1819; Montoni, 1820; and The Hu¬
guenot, 1822, the last and the best of his dramatic compo¬
sitions, but which met with almost total neglect. Could
this be accounted for by the absence of the popular actress,
Miss O’Neil? At all events, she had appeared hitherto in
all Shed’s former dramas, and was only withheld from re¬
presenting her part in the Huguenot by her marriage with
Sir William Beecher. This was the opinion of Mr Mac-
ready, who sustained his part in this play with his accus¬
tomed eclat. It was the last dramatic composition in which
Sheil indulged. Henceforward he devoted his spare ener¬
gies to the more remunerative walk of politico-religious
agitation.
In the year 1822 appeared the first of those well-known
Sketches of the Irish Bar, which came out in the Neio
Monthly Magazine, then conducted by the poet Campbell.
These Sketches have since been published, in 2 vols., 1855.
Flere Sheil achieved a considerable literary reputation;
and one can hardly help regretting that so little of the
energy of a very superior mind should have been given
to what, in the long run, would have proved a more remu¬
nerative expenditure for the resources of his genius than
the business of an agitator, however successful. But he
was possibly compelled, both from temperament and from
necessity, to think more of the “ bubble reputation” of the
hour, than of the slower but more enduring tame which
attends all the permanent productions of an exalted mind.
99
Sheil.
100
Sheil.
SHE
In keen observation, in subtle sensibility, in high imagina¬
tion, and in acute analysis, these Sketches found few equals
among the best productions of the day. Ihey are doubt¬
less tinctured, sometimes, too largely with a tendency to
extravagance, both in conception and in expression ; but the
luxuriance is always kept in such fine proportion and sub¬
ordination to the whole picture, and the idealization is
constantly so elevated and grand, that the reader, although
finding, on reflection, that it is not all real, is disposed to
pardon the writer who has ministered so largely to his en¬
joyment, by presenting him with a series of dazzling deline¬
ations of the passing life and manners of the time. Sheil
became a member of the Catholic Association in 1822, and
three years afterwards was chosen, in conjunction with
O’Connell, to plead at the bar of the House of Commons
against the bill introduced for its suppression. The bill
was passed into law; and the more incautious of the agita¬
tors became so violent in their oratorical zeal, that a prose¬
cution of Sheil ensued, on a charge of having uttered
seditious language. This prosecution was suddenly put an
end to by the elevation of Mr Canning to the premiership.
In the month of June 1827 Sheil received a severe fracture
of the leg, caused by a fall from his horse, which confined
him to his room for a considerable time. For the past three
or four years he had familiarized himself to the Irish people.
There had scarcely been a political meeting of any note,
all over the country, from Sligo to the Boyne, that had not
been inflamed by his speeches. He addressed meetings at
night, he declaimed to assemblages by day, he harangued
the electors of Clare to choose O’Connell for their repre¬
sentative. Ere the election week was over, the “ Agitator”
was returned by an immense majority; the wild huzzas
of the peasants and the soldiery from the swarming hill¬
sides adjoining rending the still July air, as a signalling of
the triumph of what lay near to their hearts. The 24th of
October 1828 has likewise to be recorded as one of those
occasions on which Richard Sheil gained one of his orato¬
rical triumphs. The meeting was held at Penenden Heath,
in Kent, to petition against the passing,of the Emancipation
Bill; and of Shell’s appearance on that occasion Bentham
said, “ So masterly an union of logic and rhetoric as Mr
Sheil’s speech scarcely have I ever beheld.” By the year
1829 he had attained considerable eminence at the bar, and
next year he received his silk gown. On the 20th July of
the same year he contracted a second marriage with
Anastasi Laalor, the widow of Mr Power of Waterford,
and from whom he acquired the addition of Lalor to his
name, and a considerable addition to his means. Early in
the year 1830 Lord Anglesea, then Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland, wrote to Sheil, informing him that he might be
returned for Milborne Port, in Dorsetshire. He readily
embraced the offer; the long day-dream of his whole life
was now to be fulfilled. The eloquent sarcasm and badin¬
age of the agitator was now to be exchanged for the more
peaceful and direct, if not less striking, manoeuvring of facts
to suit the humour of the House. Nature, as has been
already said, had been scrimp enough in her justice to
Sheil as an orator. Yet Christopher North, in one of his
Nodes Ambrosiance {fox Aug. 1831), in which he, as usual,
abuses those who were not of his own party, says of the Irish
orator on his appearance in the House, “ Nature has given
him as fine a pair of eyes as ever graced human head,
large, deeply set, dark, liquid, flashing like gems, and these
fix you like a basilisk, so that you forget everything else about
him.” Sheil rapidly rose to be one of the foremost speakers
in the House of Commons. Except Lord Stanley (now
Lord Derby), for Macaulay was then absent in India, he
might fairly be said to be without an oratorical rival in the
House. Cobden, speaking of the vehemence of his manner,
the intensity of his look, and his dramatic power of intona¬
tion, in 1842, said, “ It was not like any other man I had
SHE
ever heard making a speech ; he seemed to me like one
possessed.” After the passing of the Reform Act, Shcil
had at first refused, but finally consented, to join O Connell
in the repeal agitation. In December 1832, he took his
seat for the county of Tipperary, having previously occupied
that of Louth. In 1838 he was offered office by the Melbourne
administration, and accepted a commissionership of Green¬
wich Hospital. Henceforward there was no more talk of
repeal by him. Next year he was made vice-president of
the Board of Trade, and was sworn into the Privy Council.
He became Judge-Advocate-General in 1841, when he
exchanged Tipperary for Dungarvan. On the advent of
Lord John Russell to the premiership in 1846, Sheil was
chosen Master of the Mint, a post which he held till No¬
vember 1850, when he accepted the post of British ambas¬
sador to the court of Tuscany, and closed his parliamentary
career. For twenty years he had occupied a prominent
place in all the controversies of the state. Nearly all the
principles for which he had contended had now become
law; and the clouds which had gathered angrily in the
political heavens when he commenced his career, had
now shed away, and he could, in the calm sunset of his
days, enjoy the glorious light as it fell soft and rosy over
the landscape. But he had to take the prospect for the
realization. He had been for many years troubled with the
gout, and had taken to colchicum as an emollient of pain.
The death of his own son sometime before, and the sad death
of his step-son, all combined with this treacherous antidote
to prey upon his health. He died at Florence of an attack
of gout in the stomach, on the 23d of May 1851, in his
fifty-ninth year. (See Memoirs of the Right Honourable
Richard Lalor Sheil, by W. T. M‘Cullagh, 2 vols., 1So5.)
SHEKEL, the name of a weight and coin current among
the ancient Jews. Dr Arbuthnot makes the weight of the
shekel equal to 9 pennyweights 2f- grains troy weight, and
the value of the silver coin equal to 2s. 3fd. sterling. The
golden shekel is supposed to have been worth L.l, 16s. 6d.
SHELBURNE, Earl of. See Great Britain, Reign
of George III.
SHELDON, Gilbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, was
born on the 19th of July 1598, at Stanton, in Staffordshire.
He was admitted into Trinity College, Oxford, in 1613, and
obtained his degree of M.A. in May 28th, 1620. He was
chosen fellow of All Souls’ College, in 1622, and taking
holy orders, he became domestic chaplain to Lord Coventry.
Sheldon rose through successive stages of preferment, till
at last he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. He
died, enormously rich, on the 9th of November 1677. Be¬
sides building the theatre which still bears his name at
Oxford, in 1699, he is said to have expended very large
sums on charitable purposes.
SHELLEY, Percy Bysshe. Whatever opinion may
be held with regard to the relative position occupied by
Shelley as a poet, it will be granted by most of those who
have studied his writings, that they are of such an individual
and original kind, that he can neither be hidden in the shade,
nor lost in the brightness, of any other poet. No idea of
his works could be conveyed by instituting a comparison,
for he does not sufficiently resemble any other among
English writers to make such a comparison possible.
Percy Bysshe Shelley was born at Field Place, near
Horsham, in the county of Sussex, on the 4th of August
1792. He was the son of Timothy Shelley, Esq., and
grandson of Sir Bysshe Shelley, the first baronet. His
ancestors had long been large landed proprietors in Sussex.
As a child his habits were noticeable. He was especially
fond of rambling by moonlight, of inventing wonderful
tales, of occupying himself with strange, and sometimes
dangerous, amusements. At the age of thirteen he went to
Eton. In this little world, that determined opposition to
whatever appeared to him an invasion of human rights and
Shekel
II
Shelley.
SHELLEY.
Shelley, liberty, which was afterwards the animating principle of
most of his writings, was first roused in the mind of Shelley.
Were we not aware of far keener distress which he after¬
wards endured from'yet greater injustice, we might suppose
that the sufferings he had to bear from placing himself in
opposition to the custom of the school, by refusing to fag,
had made him morbidly sensitive on the point of liberty.
At a time, however, when freedom of speech, as indicating
freedom of thought, was especially obnoxious to established
authorities ; when no allowance could he made on the score
of youth, still less on that of individual peculiarity, Shelley
became a student at Oxford. He was then eighteen.
Devoted to metaphysical speculation, and especially fond of
logical discussion, he, in his first year, printed and distri¬
buted among the authorities and members of his college a
pamphlet, if that can be called a pamphlet which consisted
only of two pages, in which he opposed the usual arguments
for the existence of a Deity; arguments which, perhaps,
the most ardent believers have equally considered inconclu¬
sive. Whether Shelley wrote this pamphlet as an embodi¬
ment of his own opinions, or merely as a logical confutation
of certain arguments, the mode of procedure adopted with
him wras certainly not one which necessarily resulted from
the position of those to whose care the education of his
opinions was entrusted. Without waiting to be assured
that he was the author, and satisfying themselves with his
refusal to answer when questioned as to the authorship, they
handed him his sentence of expulsion, which had been
already drawn up in due form.
About this time Shelley wrote, or commenced writing,
Queen Mab, a poem which he never published, although
he distributed copies amongst his friends. In after years he
had such a low opinion of it in every respect, that he
regretted having printed it at all; and when an edition of
it was published without his consent, he applied to the
Court of Chancery for an injunction to suppress it.
Shelley’s opinions in politics and theology, which he
appears to have been far more anxious to maintain than
was consistent with the peace of the household, were pecu¬
liarly obnoxious to his father, a man as different from his
son as it is possible to conceive; and his expulsion from
Oxford was soon followed by exile from his home. He
went to London, where, through his sisters, who were at
school in the neighbourhood, he made the acquaintance of
Harriet Westbrook, whom he eloped with and married,
when he was nineteen and she sixteen years of age. It
seems doubtful whether the attachment between them was
more than the result of the reception accorded by the
enthusiasm of the girl to the enthusiasm of the youth,
manifesting itself in wild talk about human rights, and
equally wild plans for their recovery and security. How¬
ever this may be, the result was unfortunate. They wan¬
dered about England, Scotland, and Ireland, with frequent
and sudden change of residence, for rather more than two
years. During this time Shelley gained the friendship of
some of the most eminent men of the age; of whom the
one who exercised the most influence upon his character
and future history was William Godwin. The instructions
and expostulations of this eminent writer tended to reduce
to solidity and form, the vague and extravagant opinions and
projects of the youthful reformer. Shortly after the com¬
mencement of the third year of their married life, an
estrangement of feeling, which had been gradually widening
between them, resulted in their final separation. W^e are
not informed as to the causes of this estrangement, further
than that it seems to have been owing, in a considerable
degree, to the influence of an elder sister of Mrs Shelley,
who domineered over her, and whose presence became at
ast absolutely hateful to Shelley. His wife returned to her
ather s house ; where, apparently about three years after,
s ie committed suicide. There seems to have been no
immediate connection between this act and any conduct of Shelley.
Shelley. One of his biographers informs us, that while v
they were living happily together, suicide was a favourite
subject of speculation and conversation with Mrs Shelley.
Shortly after his first wife’s death, Shelley married the
daughter of William Godwin. He had lived with her
almost from the date of the separation. During this time
theyjiad twice visited Switzerland. In the following year
(181 /), it was decreed in Chancery that Shelley was not a
proper person to take charge of his two children, left by his
first wife, who had lived with her till her death. The bill
was filed in Chancery by their grandfather. The effects
of this proceeding upon Shelley may be easily imagined.
Perhaps he never recovered from them, for they were not
°f a nature to pass away. During this year he resided at
Marlow, and wrote The Revolt of Islam, besides portions
of other poems. la the following year (1818), he left Eng¬
land, not to return. The state of his health, for he had
appeared to be in a consumption for some time, and the
fear lest his son, by his second wife, should be taken from
him, combined to induce him to take refuge in Italy from
both impending evils. At Lucca he began his Prometheus,
and wrote Julian and Maddalo. He moved from place to
place in Italy, as he had done in his own country. Their
two children dying, they were for a time left childless ; but
the loss of these grieved Shelley less than that of his eldest
two, who were taken from him by the hand of man. In
1819, Shelley finished his Prometheus Unbound, writing
the greater part at Rome, and completing it at Florence.
In this year also he wrote his tragedy, The Cenci. This
attracted more attention during his lifetime than any other
of his works. Ihe Ode to a Skylai'k was written at Leg¬
horn in the spring of 1820; and in August of the same
year, the Witch of Atlas was written, near Pisa. In the
following year Shelley and Byron met at Pisa. They were
a good deal together; but their friendship, although real,
does not appear to have been of a very profound nature ;
for though unlikeness be one of the necessary elements
of friendship, there are kinds of unlikeness which will not
harmonize. During all this time, he was not only maligned
by unknown enemies, and abused by anonymous writers,
but attempts of other kinds are said to have been made to
render his life as uncomfortable as possible. There are
grounds, however, for doubting whether Shelley was not
subject to a kind of monomania upon this and similar points.
In 1821, he wrote his Adonais, a monody on the death of
Keats. Part of this poem had its origin in the mistaken
notion, that the illness and death of Keats were caused by
a brutal criticism of his Endymion, which appeared in the
Quarterly Review. The last verse of the Adonais seems
almost prophetic of his own end. Passionately fond of
boating, he and a friend of his, Mr Williams, united in
constructing a boat of a peculiar build, a very fast sailer,
but difficult to manage. On the 8th of July, 1822,
Shelley and his friend Williams sailed from Leghorn for
Lerici, on the Bay of Spezia, near w'hich lay his home for
the time. A sudden squall came on, and their boat disap¬
peared. The bodies of the two friends were cast on shore ;
and, according to quarantine regulations, were burned to
ashes. Lord Byron, Leigh Hunt, and Mr Trelawney, were
present when the body of Shelley was burned; so that his
ashes were saved, and buried in the Protestant burial-
ground at Rome, near the grave of Keats, who had been
laid there in the spring of the preceding year. Cor Cor-
dium were the words inscribed by his widow on the tomb
of the poet.
The character of Shelley has been sadly maligned.
Whatever faults he may have committed against society,
they were not the result of sensuality. One of his bio¬
graphers, who was his companion at Oxford, and who does
not seem inclined to do him more than justice, asserts that
102
Shelley.
SHELLEY.
while there his conduct was immaculate. The whole pic¬
ture he gives of the youth, makes it easy to believe this.
To discuss the moral question involved in one part of his
history would be out of place here ; but even on the suppo¬
sition that a man’s conduct is altogether inexcusable in indi¬
vidual instances, there is the more need that nothing but
the truth should be said concerning that, and other portions
thereof. And whatever society may have thought itself
justified in making subject of reprobation, it must be re¬
membered that Shelley was under less obligation to society
than most men. Yet his heart seemed full of love to his
kind ; and the distress which the oppression of others caused
him, was the source of much of that wild denunciation which
exposed him to the contempt and hatred of those who were
rendered uncomfortable by his unsparing and indiscriminat-
ing anathemas. In private, he was beloved by all who
knew him ; a steady, generous, self-denying friend, not only
to those who moved in his own circle, but to all who were
brought within the reach of any aid he could bestow. To
the poor he was a true and laborious benefactor. That man
must have been good to whom the heart of his widow
returns with such earnest devotion and thankfulness in the
recollection of the past, and such fond hope for the future, as
are manifested by Mrs Shelley in those extracts from her
private journal given us by Lady Shelley.
As regards his religious opinions, one of the thoughts
which most strongly suggest themselves is,—how ill he
must have been instructed in the principles of Christianity !
He says himself in a letter to Godwin, “ I have known no
tutor or adviser {not excepting my father) from whose les¬
sons and suggestions l have not recoiled with disgust.” So
far is he from being an opponent of Christianity properly
so called, that one can hardly help feeling what a Christian
he would have been, could he but have seen Christianity in
any other way than through the traditional and practical mis¬
representations of it w hich surrounded him. All his attacks
on Christianity are, in reality, directed against evils to which
the true doctrines of Christianity are more opposed than
those of Shelley could possibly be. How far he was excus¬
able in giving the name of Christianity to what he might
have seen to be only a miserable perversion of it, is another
question, and one which hardly admits of discussion here.
It was in the name of Christianity, however, that the worst
injuries of which he had to complain were inflicted upon
him. Coming out of the cathedral at Pisa one day,1 Shel¬
ley warmly assented to a remark of Leigh Hunt, “ that a
divine religion might be found out, if charity were really
made the principle of it instead of faith.” Surely the
founders of Christianity, even when they magnified faith,
intended thereby a spiritual condition, of which the central
principle is coincident with charity. Shelley’s own feel¬
ings towards others, as judged from his poetry, seem to be
tinctured with the very essence of Christianity.2 He did
not, at one time at least, believe that we could know
the source of our being; and seemed to take it as a self-
evident truth, that the Creator could not be like the crea¬
ture. But it seems injustice to fix upon any utterance of
opinion, and regard it as the religion of a man who died in
his thirtieth year, and whose habits of thinking were such,
that his opinions must have been in a state of constant
change. Coleridge says in a letter: “ His (Shelley’s) dis¬
cussions, tending towards atheism of a certain sort, would
not have scared me; for me it would have been a semi¬
transparent larva, soon to be sloughed, and through which
I should have seen the true image—the final metamor¬
phosis. Besides, I have ever thought that sort of atheism
the next best religion to Christianity; noi does the better
faith I have learned from Paul and John interfere with the v
cordial reverence I feel for Benedict Spinoza.
Shelley’s favourite study was metaphysics. The more
impulse there is in any direction, the more education and
experience are necessary to balance that impulse. one
cannot help thinking that Shelleys taste foi exeicises of
this kind was developed more rapidly than the correspond¬
ing His favourite physical studies wreie chemistry
and electricity. With these he occupied himself from his
childhood ; apparently, however, with more delight in the
experiments themselves, than interest in the general con¬
clusions to be arrived at by means of them. In the imbo-
diment of his metaphysical ideas in poetry, the influence of
these studies seems to appear. For the forms chosen are
of an external physical kind, belonging, in their association
with the idea, to the realm of the fancy, rather than chosen
by the imaginative power, because of an inward vital
resemblance. Logic had considerable attractions for him.
To geometry and mathematics he was quite indifferent.
One^of his biographers states, that “ he was neglectful of
flowers,” because he had no interest in botany ; but one who
derived such full delight from the contemplation of their
external forms, could hardly be expected to feel very
strongly the impulse to dissect and explore. He derived
exceeding pleasure from Greek literature, especially from
the works of Plato.
Several little peculiarities in Shelley’s tastes are worth
mentioning, because, although in themselves insignificant,
they seem to correspond with the nature of his poetry.
Perhaps the most prominent of these was his passion
for boat-sailing. He could not pass any piece of water
without launching upon it a number of boats, constructed
from what paper he could find in his pockets. The fly¬
leaves of the books he was in the habit of carrying with
him, for he was constantly reading, often wTent to this end.
He would watch the fate of these boats with the utmost
interest, till they sank or reached the opposite side. He
was just as fond of real boating, and that frequently of a
dangerous kind; but it is characteristic of him, that all
the boats he describes in his poems are of a fairy, fantastic
sort, barely related to the boats which battle with earthly
winds and waves. Pistol-shooting was also a favourite
amusement. Fire-works, too, gave him great delight.
Some of his habits were likewise peculiar. He was re¬
markably abstemious, preferring bread and raisins to any¬
thing else in the way of eating, and very seldom drinking
anything stronger than water. Honey was a favourite
luxury with him. While at college his biographer Hogg
says he was in the habit, during the evening, of going to
sleep on the rug, close to a blazing fire, heat seeming never
to have other than a beneficial effect upon him. Alter
sleeping some hours he would awake perfectly restored,
and continue actively occupied till far into the morning.
His whole movements are represented as rapid, hurried,
and uncertain. He would appear and disappear suddenly
and unexpectedly; forget appointments; burst into wild
laughter, heedless of his situation, whenever anything
struck him as peculiarly ludicrous. His changes of resi¬
dence were most numerous, and frequently made with
so much haste that whole little libraries w^ere left behind,
and often lost. He was very fond of children, and used to
make humorous efforts to induce them to disclose to him the
still-remembered secrets of pre-existence. He seemed to
have a peculiar attraction towards the unknown, and was
ready to believe there was a secret hidden, where no one
Shelley.
1 From Bhdley Memorials, edited by Lady Shelley, which the writer of this paper has principally followed in regard to the external
facts of Shelley’s history. . , , .
2 His Essay on Christianity is full of noble views, some of which are held at the present day by some of the most earnest believers.
At what time of his life it was written we are not informed; but it seems such as would insure his acceptance with any company of in¬
telligent and devout Unitarians.
SHELLEY.
Shelley, else would have thought of one. His room, while he was
at college, was in a state of indescribable confusion. Not
only were all sorts of personal necessaries mingled with books
and philosophical instruments, but things belonging to one
department of service were not unfrequently pressed into the
slavery of another. He dressed well but carelessly. In
person he was tall, slender, and stooping; awkward in gait,
but in manners a thorough gentleman. His complexion
was delicate; his head, face, and features, remarkably small;
the last not very regular, but in expression, both intellec¬
tual and moral, wonderfully beautiful. His eyes were deep
blue, “ of a wild, strange beautyhis forehead high and
white; his hair dark brown, curling, long, and bushy. His
appearance in later life is described as singularly combin¬
ing the appearances of premature age and prolonged
youth.
1 he only art in which his taste appears to have been
developed was poetry. Even in his poetry, taken as a
whole, the artistic element is not generally very manifest.
His earliest verses (none of which are included in his col¬
lected works) can hardly be said to be good in any sense.
He seemed in these to find poetry a fitting material for the
imbodiment of his ardent, hopeful, indignant thoughts and
feelings; and provided he could say what he wanted to say,
does not seem to have cared much about the how. Indeed,
there is too much of this throughout his works; for if the
utterance, instead of the conveyance of thought, were the
object sought in art, of course, not merely imperfection of
language, but absolute external unintelligibility, would be
unobjectionable. But his art constantly increases with his
sense of its necessity; so that the Cenci, which is the last
work of any pretension that he wrote, is decidedly the most
artistic of all. I here are beautiful passages in Queen Mah,
but it is the work of a boy-poet; and as it was all but repu¬
diated by himself, it is not necessary to remark further upon
it. The Revolt of Islam is a poem of twelve cantos, in the
Spenserian stanza; but in all respects, except the arrange¬
ment of lines and rhymes, it, in common with all other
imitations of the Spenserian stanza, has little or nothino-
of the spirit or individuality of that stanza. The poem
is dedicated to the cause of freedom, and records the
efforts, successes, defeats, and final triumphant death of
two inspired champions of liberty—a youth and maiden.
The adventures are marvellous, not intended to be within
the bounds of probability, scarcely of possibility. There
are very noble sentiments and fine passages throughout the
poem. Now and then there is grandeur. But the ab¬
sence of art is too evident in the fact that the meaning
is often obscure ; an obscurity not unfrequently occasioned
by the difficulty of the stanza, which is the most difficult
mode of composition in English, except the rigid sonnet.
I he words and forms he employs to express thought seem
sometimes mechanical devices for that purpose, rather than
an utterance which suggested itself naturally to a mind
where the thought was vitally present. The words are
more a clothing for the thought than an imbodiment of it.
They do not lie near enough to the thing which is intended
to be represented by them. It is, however, but just to
remark, that some of the obscurity is owing to the fact,
that, even with Mrs Shelley’s superintendence, the works
have not yet been satisfactorily edited, or at least not con¬
ducted through the press with sufficient care.
The Cenci is a very powerful tragedy, but unfitted for
public representation by the horrible nature of the historical
facts upon which it is founded. In the execution of it,
nowever, Shelley has kept very much nearer to nature than
m any other of his works. He has rigidly adhered to his
perception of artistic propriety in respect to the dramatic
utterance. It may be doubted whether there is sufficient
' eience between the modes of speech of the different
actors in the tragedy ; but it is quite possible to individualize
speech far too minutely for probable nature; and in this
respect, at least, Shelley has not erred. Perhaps the action
of the whole is a little hurried, and a central moment of
awful repose and fearful anticipation might add to the force
of the tragedy. The scenes also might, perhaps, have been
constructed so as to suggest more of evolution ; but the
central point of horror is most powerfully and delicately
handled. You see a possible spiritual horror yet behind,
more frightful than all that has gone before. The wdiole
drama, indeed, is constructed around, not a prominent
point, but a dim, infinitely-withdrawn, underground per¬
spective of dismay and agony. Perhaps it detracts a little
horn our interest in the Lady Beatrice, that after all she
s ould vvish to live, and should seek to preserve her life by
a denial of her crime. She, however, evidently justifies the
denial to herself on the ground that, the deed being ab¬
solutely right, although regarded as most criminal by her
ju ges, the only way to get true justice is to deny the fact,
which, there being no guilt, she might consider as onlv
a verbal he. Her very purity of conscience enables her
to utter this with the most absolute innocence of look, and
word and tone. This is probably a historical fact, and
Shelley has to make the best of it. In the drama there is
great tenderness, as well as terror; but for a full effect,
one feels it desirable to be brought better acquainted with
the individuals than the drama, from its want of graduation,
permits. Shelley, however, was only six-and-twenty when
he wrote it. He must have been attracted to the subject
by its embodying the concentration of tyranny, lawlessness,
and brutality in old Cenci, as opposed to, and exercised upon,
an ideal loveliness and nobleness in the person of Beatrice.
But of all Shelley’s works, the Prometheus Unbound is
that which combines the greatest amount of individual
power and peculiarity. There is an airy grandeur about it,
reminding one of the vast masses of cloud scattered about
in broken, yet magnificently suggestive forms, all over the
summer sky, after a thunderstorm. The fundamental ideas
are grand; the superstructure, in many parts, so ethereal,
that one hardly know's whether he is gazing on towers of
solid masomy, lendered dim and unsubstantial by interven¬
ing vapour, or upon the golden turrets of cloudland, them¬
selves born of the mist which surrounds them with a halo
of glory. The beings of Greek mythology are idealized
and etherealized by the new souls which he puts into them,
making them think his thoughts and say his words. In
reading this, as in reading most of his poetry, we feel that,
unable to cope with the evils and wrongs of the world as it
and they are, he constructs a new universe, wherein he
may rule according to his will ; and a good will in the main
it is—good always in intent, good generally in form and
utterance. Of the wrongs which Shelley endured from the
collision and resulting conflict between his lawless goodness
and the lawful wickedness of those in authority, this is one
of the greatest,—that during the right period of pupillage,
he was driven from the place of learning, cast on his own
mental resources long before those resources were sufficient
for his support, and irritated against the purest imbodiment
of good by the harsh treatment he received under its name.
If that reverence which was far from wanting to his nature
had been but presented, in the person of some guide to his
spiritual being, with an object worthy of its homage and
trust, it is probable that the yet free and noble result of
Shelley’s individuality would have been presented to the
world in a form which, while it attracted still only the few,
would not have repelled the many; at least, not by such
things as were merely accidental in their association with his
earnest desires and efforts for the wellbeing of humanity.
That which chiefly distinguishes Shelley from other
writers is the unequalled exuberance of his" fancy. The
reader, say for instance in that fantastically brilliant poem,
The Witch of Atlas, the work of three days, is overwhelmed
103
Shelley.
104 S H E
Shelley, in a storm, as it were, of rainbow snow-flakes, and many-
coloured lightnings, accompanied ever by “a low melodious
thunder.” The evidences of pure imagination in his writ¬
ings are unfrequent as compared with those of fancy: there
are not half the instances of the direct imbodiment of idea
in form, that there are of the presentation of strange re¬
semblances between external things.
One of the finest short specimens of Shelley’s peculiar
mode is his Ode to the West Wind, full of mysterious
melody of thought and sound. But of all his poems, the
most popular, and deservedly so, is the Skylark. Per¬
haps the Cloud may contest it with the Skylark in re¬
gard to popular favour; but the Cloud, although full of
beautiful words and fantastic cloud-like images, is, after all,
principally a work of the fancy; while the Skylark, though
even in it fancy predominates over imagination in the
visual images, forms, as a whole, a lovely, true, individual
work of art; a lyric not unworthy of the lark, which Mason
apostrophises as “ sweet feathered lyric.” The strain of
sadness which pervades it is only enough to make the song
of the lark human.
In The Sensitive Plant, a poem full of the peculiarities
of his genius, tending through a wilderness of fanciful
beauties to a thicket of mystical speculation, one curious
idiosyncrasy is more prominent than in any other; curious,
as belonging to the poet of beauty and loveliness : it is the
tendency to be fascinated by what is ugly and revolting, so
that he cannot withdraw his thoughts from it till he has
described it in language, powerful, it is true, and poetic,
when considered as to its fitness for the desired end, but,
in force of these very excellencies in the means, nearly as
revolting as the objects themselves. Associated with this
is the tendency to discover strangely unpleasant likenesses
between things; which likenesses he is not content with
seeing, but seems compelled, perhaps in order to get rid of
them himselfj to force upon the observation of his reader.
But the admirer of Shelley is not pleased to find that one
or two passages of this nature have been omitted in the
last editions of his works.
Few men have been more misunderstood or misrepre¬
sented than Shelley. Doubtless this has in part been his
own fault, as Coleridge implies, when he writes to this effect
of him: that his horror of hypocrisy made him speak in
such a wild way, that Southey (who was so much a man of
forms and proprieties) was quite misled, not merely in his
estimate of his worth, but in his judgment of his character.
But setting aside this consideration altogether, and regard¬
ing him merely as a poet, Shelley has written verse which
will last as long as the English literature lasts ; valuable not
only from its excellence, but from the peculiarity of its
excellence. To say nothing of his noble aims and hopes,
Shelley will always be admired for his sweet melodies,
lovely pictures, and wild prophetic imaginings. His indig¬
nant remonstrances, intermingled with grand imprecations,
burst in thunder from a heart overcharged with the love of
his kind, and roused to a keener sense of all oppression by
the wrongs which sought to overwhelm himself. But as he
recedes further in time, and men are able to see more truly
the proportions of the man, they will judge, that without
having gained the rank of a great reformer, Shelley had in
him that element of wide sympathy and lofty hope for his
kind which is essential both to the birth and the subsequent
making of the greatest of poets. (&• m‘d.)
Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, was the
daughter of the distinguished author of Caleb Williams,
and the second wife of Percy Bysshe Shelley, and was born
in 1798. Her earliest production of any note was her novel
of Frankenstein, which was conceived in 1816 when tra¬
velling with her husband and Lord Byron among the ro¬
mantic scenery of Switzerland. It is wild and improbable,
yet there are many holds on human interest comprised in
S II E
this wonderful story. It was at once pronounced a classic Shendy
by the novel readers, but time, as it generally does, has ||
slightly reversed this judgment. Frankenstein, however, Shenstone,
with all its faults, and they belong much more to conception v'—
than construction, was undoubtedly far ahead of the frantic
terrors excited by Mrs Radcliffe, or the coarse and horrible
delineations in which Maturin delighted to indulge his read¬
ers. Mrs Shelley did not again tempt the public for many
years with the products of her fantastic genius. Her care
for her husband was tender and ceaseless, and she had just
published her Valperga, a novel, when the news of his
death reached her. She subsequently wrote Falkland,
The Last Man, Lodore, and the Fortunes of Perkin War-
beck, but much of her inspiration had flown with the death
of Shelley. She likewise wrote a pleasing account of her
Rambles in Germany and Italy; and in 1839 she pub¬
lished an edition of her husband’s poems, and the following
year this was followed up by a selection from his letters,
and a few specimens of his prose writings. She died in
London on the 1st of February 1851.
SHENDY, a town of Nubia, on the right bank of the
Nile, 529 miles S. of Assuan, on the borders of Upper
Egypt, and 207 N. of Sennaar; N. Lat. 16. 38., E. Long.
33. 15. It was formerly a place of much importance, hav¬
ing been the capital of the region that anciently formed
the celebrated state of Meroe, and containing a population
of 50,000; but it was laid waste by the Egyptian forces in
1822, and has never since recovered its former prosperity.
The place now consists of a mere collection of mud huts,
and has no buildings of any importance. Some trade is still
carried on. European wares are imported through Egypt,
and coffee from Abyssinia; while slaves and cattle are ex¬
ported to Egypt. The population has now dwindled to
about 4000.
SHEN-SI, a province of China, lying between N. Lat.
32. and 39. 30., E. Long. 106. and 111.; bounded on the
N. by Mongolia, from which it is separated by the Great
Wall, E. by the provinces of Shan-si and Honan, S. by
those of Hou-pe and Se-chuen, and W. by that of Kan-su.
Area, 67,504 square miles. Most of the surface is hilly;
for in the south the Peh-ling range, between the valleys
of the Hoang-ho and Yang-tze-keang, traverses the
country"; while in the north the ground is less elevated,
and has a general slope towards the east. The principal
river is the Hoang-ho, which flows along the eastern boun¬
dary of the province. It receives here several affluents of
considerable size, such as the Loh, Wu-ting, and Wei-ho.
The southern portion of the province is watered by several
affluents of the Yang-tze-keang. Shen-si is not so produc¬
tive as some of the other Chinese provinces. It yields
wheat, millet, musk, rhubarb, cinnabar, lead, woollen fab¬
rics, &c. The capital is Se-gan-foo, which was for a long
time the metropolis of China. Pop. (1812) 10,207,256;
(1843) 10,500,000.
SHENSTONE, William, an admired English poet, the
eldest son of a plain country gentleman, who farmed his
own estate in Shropshire, was born at Leasowes in Novem¬
ber 1714. He learned to read of an old dame, whom his
poem of the Schoolmistress has delivered to posterity ; and
he soon received such delight from books, that he was
always calling for new entertainment, and expected that,
when any of the family went to market, a new book should
be brought him. As he grew older, he went for a while to
the grammar-school in Hales-Owen, and was placed after¬
wards with an eminent schoolmaster at Solihull, where he
distinguished himself by the quickness of his progress.
From school he w as sent, in 1732, to Pembroke College,
Oxford, where he continued his name for ten years, though
he took no degree. After the first four years he put
on the civilian’s gown, but without showing any inten¬
tion to engage in the profession. At Oxford he applied to
SHE
Shepton- English poetry, and in 1737 published a small Miscellany,
Mallet without his name. He published, in 1741, his Judgment
Sherborne. °f ^ercu^esi addressed to Mr Lyttleton, whose interest he
supported with great warmth at an election. This was
afterwards followed by the Schoolmistress m 1742, unques¬
tionably Shenstone’s best poem. Gray said of it, in a
letter to Walpole, that it was “excellent of its kind, and
masterly.” Now began his delight in rural pleasures, and
his passion for rural elegance; but in time his expenses
occasioned clamours that overpowered the bleat of the lamb
and the song of the linnet, and his groves were haunted by
beings very different from fauns or fairies. He spent his
estate in adorning it, and his death was probably hastened
by his anxieties. It is said, that if he had lived a little
longer, he would have been assisted by a pension. He
died at the Leasowes, of a putrid fever, on the 11th of
February 1763.
In his private opinions Shenstone adhered to no parti¬
cular sect, and hated all religious disputes. Tenderness,
in every sense of the word, was his peculiar characteristic f
and his friends, domestics, and poor neighbours, daily ex¬
perienced the effects of his benevolence. This virtue he
carried to an excess that seemed to border upon weakness y
yet if any of his friends treated him ungenerously, he was
not easily reconciled. On such occasions, however, he
used to say, “ I never will be a revengeful enemy; but I
cannot, it is not in my nature, to be half a friend.” If we
consider the perfect paradise into which he had converted
his estate, the hospitality with which he lived, his charities
to the indigent, and all out of an estate that did not exceed
L.300 a-year, one should rather wonder that he left any¬
thing behind him, than blame his want of economy. He
yet left more than sufficient to pay all his debts, and by his
will appropriated his whole estate'to that purpose. Shen¬
stone never married. His works have been published by
Dodsley, in three volumes 8vo. The first volume contains
his poetical works, which are particularly distinguished by
an amiable elegance and beautiful simplicity; the second
volume contains his prose works; the third his letters and
other pieces. His life has been written by Johnson in his
Lives of the Poets. (See Cunningham’s Edition, 1854.)
There is likewise an edition of his poetical works, published
in Edinburgh in 1854, with a biography.
SHEPl ON-MALLET, a market-town of England, in
the county of Somerset, on a small affluent of the Brue,
at the eastern foot of the Mendip Hills, 4i miles E. of
Wells, and 116 W.S. W. of London. It is an ancient place,
with numerous narrow lanes, and one principal street, which
is broad and lined with good houses. Near the centre is
a market-place, in which there is a handsome hexagonal
cross of the fifteenth century. On the east side of the
maiket-place stands the parish church, a large edifice in the
form of a cross. It is in the early English style, and has
a tower and spire. There are also in the town places of
worship for Wesleyans, Independents, Roman Catholics,
icoTUnitaii.ans‘ A fi'ee £rammar-sehool, founded here in
i 7, had, in 1854, 50 scholars; and there is a national
school, besides various similar establishments, a literary
institution, and almshouses. Various manufactures are
carried on here, employing in all about 2000 hands. Silk,
ve vet, crape, and ribbons are the chief articles produced.
An extensive trade is carried on in corn, for which there
are weekly markets. Three annual fairs are held for cattle
and cheese. Pop. 3885.
SHE
105
, . 1ERBE T, a compound drink, first brought into Eng¬
land from Turkey and Persia, consisting of water, lemon-
juice, and sugar, in which are dissolved perfumed cakes
Mia e o Damascus fruit, containing an infusion of some
arops of rose-water to give it perfume. Another kind of
Quiu ^ie*?lvi°letS’ honey> a»d juice of raisins.
BORNE, a market-town of England, Dorsetshire,
vol. xx. ° ’
on the slope of a hill in the fertile valley of Blackmore, <9hPrK
watered by a branch of the Yeo, 18 miles N. by W. of || ^
Dorset, and 117 S.W. by W. of London. It is compactly Sherburne,
built, has some ancient houses, and several handsome public v—^
buildings. Among the latter is the parish church, for¬
merly a cathedral, built at various dates, and in various
styles. It has recently been restored at great expense,
and it has a very fine tower in the Norman style, with
a ponderous bell, presented by Cardinal Wolsey. Near
the church are the handsome town-hall, the market-house,
j*. .6 free grammar-school, which occupies some of the
buddings of the old abbey restored. This school was
TiArfd ^ Edward VI., in 1550; it has an endowment of
L. 1000 a-year, and several exhibitions at the universities.
It contained, in 1854, 109 scholars. There are various
other schools in the town, also places of worship for Wes¬
leyans, Quakers, and Independents, the last a very hand¬
some edifice. In the vicinity stands Sherborne Lodge, or
Castle, the seat of the Earl of Digby, originally built by
Sir Walter Raleigh. The remains of the Castle of Sher¬
borne which was demolished in the time of the Common¬
wealth, occupy a rocky hill at the east end of the town.
Many of the inhabitants are employed in sewing gloves for
manufacturers in Yeovil; and there are large silk-mills,
which employ a considerable number of hands. The town
is ancient, having existed in the time of the Saxons, when
it was the seat of a bishop, subsequently removed to Old
Sarum, and still later to Salisbury. The strength of its
castle made it a place of importance in the various civil
wars of the middle ages. Its staple manufacture was at
one time woollen cloth, after that buttons and haberdashery
now silk. Pop. 3878.
SHERBURN, a market-town of England, in the West-
Riding of Yorkshire, 13 miles S.S.W. V York. It has a
handsome old parish church, other places of worship for
Wesleyans and Roman Catholics, a free grammar-school,
national school, and others. In the neighbourhood there
are orchards, stone-quarries, and flour-mills. Pop. of the
parish, 3754; of the township, 1440.
SHERBURNE, Sm Edward, descended from a good
family at Stainhurst in Lancashire, was born in London on
the 18th September 1618. He received his early educa¬
tion from the celebrated Thomas Farnaby, and subsequently
from Charles Aleyn. In 1640 he accomplished the grand
tour, as it was called, of Europe, and returned just in time
to follow his father to the grave in 1641. He was ap¬
pointed to his father’s office of clerk of the Ordnance, but
the rebellion which subsequently ensued removed him from
this post. It did more. Fastening on him as a royalist and
staunch Roman Catholic, the usher of the black rod held
him in durance during a long and expensive confinement.
On his release he was as active as ever in behalf of the
king, who appointed him commissary-general of his artillery.
He fought for the king, attended him at Oxford, and he
took his master’s degree there in 1642. On going up to
London in 1646, he was compelled to hide himself for a
space about the chambers of the Middle Temple. Freed
from this annoying surveillance, he was appointed by Sir
George Saville, in 1651, superintendent of his affairs, and
afterwards was chosen travelling tutor to Sir John Coventry.
Sherburne regained his old office at the Ordnance on the
Restoration, only to lose it again at the Revolution of 1688.
He had been knighted in 1682; but it is to be feared his
later years were clouded with poverty. In 1696 we find
Sherburne presenting a supplicatory memorial to the Earl
of Romney, then Master-General of the Ordnance, and an
humble petition to the king. Whether any of these
memorials was attended to, or whether this loyal subject
was left, as thousands of others were, to drag out a life of
penury, invoking the public for a bit of bread or a drop of
water in the name of the king, cannot now be determined
O
106
SHE
iheridan. He was compelled to observe a very strict retirement, until
'■•■v-*"'' death, in November 4, 1702, put an end to all bis sorrows.
Sherburne, who had been a man of a very amiable temper,
made the acquaintance of Thomas Stanley, author of the
History of Philosophy, 1655-60, and of James Shirley, the
dramatist, with whom he remained in close friendship dur¬
ing the rest of their lives. Sherburne translated the Medea
(1648), and the Troades (1679) of Seneca. He is now
best known by his version of Manilius, which contains a
valuable appendix, comprising notices of the translator’s
contemporaries.
SHERIDAN, Frances, wife of Thomas Sheridan, was
born in Ireland about the year 1724, but descended from a
good English family which had removed thither. Her
maiden name was Chamberlaine, and she was granddaughter
of Sir Oliver Chamberlaine. The first literary performance
by which she distinguished herself was a little pamphlet at
the time of a violent party dispute relative to the theatre, in
which Sheridan had newly embarked his fortune. So well-
timed a work exciting the attention of Sheridan, he sought
out his fair patroness, to whom he was soon afterwards
married. She was a person of the most amiable character
in every relation of life, with the most engaging manners.
After lingering some years in a very weak state of health,
she died at Blois, in France, in the year 1766. Her
Sidney Biddulph attained to great popularity, and her
Nourjahad delighted all readers of romance.
Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, a distinguished dramatist
and politician, was born at Dublin in the month of Septem¬
ber 1751, and baptized in St Mary’s Church on the fourth
of the following month. His grandfather and father each
attained a celebrity, by the friendship with which the for¬
mer was honoured by Swift, and by the competition, and
even rivalry, which the latter so long maintained with Gar¬
rick. His mother, too, was a woman of considerable ta¬
lents. Her affecting novel, Sidney Biddulph, could boast
amongst its panegyrists Mr Fox and Lord North; and in
the tale of Nourjahad she employed the graces of oriental
fiction to deceive her readers into a taste for true happiness
and virtue.
At the age of seven years, Richard Brinsley Sheridan
was, with his eldest brother Charles Francis, placed under the
tuition of Mr Samuel Whyte of Grafton Street, Dublin; and
after being little more than a year under his care, they were
removed to England, where Mr and Mrs Sheridan had lately
gone to reside. In the year 1762, Richard was sent to
Harrow, Charles being kept at home as a fitter subject for
the instructions of the father. At that time, Dr Sumner
was at the head of the school, and Dr Parr, who to the
massy erudition of a former age joined the free and en¬
lightened intelligence of the present, was one of the under
masters. Both he and Dr Sumner endeavoured, by all pos¬
sible means, to awaken in Sheridan a consciousness of those
powers which he manifestly possessed; but remonstrance
and encouragement were equally throwm away upon the
good-humoured indifference of their pupil. One of the
most valuable acquisitions he derived from Harrow, how¬
ever, was that friendship with Dr Parr, which lasted through¬
out his life, and which identity of political opinion tended
not a little to invigorate.
On his leaving Harrow, where he continued until about
his eighteenth year, he was brought home by his father,
who, with the elder son, Charles, had lately i-eturned from
France, and taken a house in London. Here thre two
brothers for some time received private tuition from Mr
Lewis Kerr, an Irish gentleman, who had formerly practised
as a physician ; and they also attended the fencing and
riding schools of Mr Angelo, at the same time receiving
from their father instructions in English grammar and ora¬
tory. Of this advantage, however, the elder son appears
alone to have availed himself; and Richard, determined to
SHE
owe all to nature, was found as impracticable a pupil at Sheridan.
home as at school. But, however inattentive to his studies  
he may have been at Harrow, it is evident, from a letter of
his school-fellow, Mr Halhed, that he had already distin¬
guished himself in poetry, and, in conjunction with his
friend, had translated the seventh Idyl, and many of the les¬
ser poems of Theocritus. In the year 1770, when Halhed
was at Oxford, and Sheridan with his father-'at Bath, they
commenced a correspondence (of which Halhed s share only
remains), and, wuth all the hope and spirit of young adven¬
turers, began and prosecuted several works, of which none
but their translation of Aristaenetus ever saw the light.
In this copartnership of genius, their first joint produc¬
tion was a play in three acts, called Jupiter, written in imi¬
tation of the burletta of Midas. Of this piece Halhed, who
had furnished the burlesque scenes, entertained great hopes;
nor were those of Sheridan less earnest and sanguine; yet
that habit of dilatoriness, which is too often attendant upon
genius, and which, throughout life, was remarkable in the
character of Mr Sheridan, prevailed so far, that though he
received from his friend the sketch of this piece in 1770,
it was not till May next year that the probability of the ar¬
rival of the manuscript was announced to Mr Foote. An¬
other of their projects was a periodical miscellany, the idea
of which originated with Sheridan. The title intended by
him for this paper was Hernan’s Miscellany, to which Hal¬
hed objected, and proposed The Reformer, as a newer and
better name. But this paper, for want of auxiliaries, never
proceeded beyond the first number, which was written by
Sheridan, It is the characteristic of fools to be always be¬
ginning ; and this is not the only point in which folly and
genius resemble each other. Amongst the many literary
works projected by Sheridan at this period, were a collec¬
tion of Occasional Poems, and a volume of Crazy Tales, to
the former of which Halhed suggests, that “ the old things
they did at Harrow, out of Theocritus,” might form a useful
contribution. But neither of these came to any thing; and
the translation of Aristsenetus was the only fruit of their
literary alliance that, as we have already stated, ever arrived
at sufficient maturity for publication.
The passion, however, that now began to take possession
of his heart was little favourable to his advancement in se¬
rious studies. In the neighbourhood of Miss Linley, the
arts and the sciences were suffered to fall asleep, and even
the translation of Aristsenetus itself proceeded but slowly.
After various fortune, however, it at length made its appear¬
ance in August 1771, contrary to the advice of the book¬
seller, and, as it might have been expected, from the unpro-
pitious season at which it appeared, complete failure was
the consequence. The disappointment of the authors was
no doubt proportioned to the sanguine expectations they had
indulged. But as to Mr Sheridan, he sought for consola¬
tion in the society of Miss Linley, who had now become the
star of his attraction, and the centre round which revolved
all his hopes. This lady, indeed, notwithstanding the draw¬
back of her profession as a singer, appears to have spread
her gentle conquests to an extent almost unparalleled in
the annals of beauty. “ Her personal charms, the exqui¬
siteness of her musical talents, and the full light of publicity
which her profession threw upon both,” says Mr Moore,
“ naturally attracted round her a crowd of admirers, in whom
the sympathy of common pursuit soon kindled into rivalry,
till she became at length an object of vanity as well as of
love. Her extreme youth, too (tor she was little more than
sixteen when Sheridan first met her), must have removed,
even from minds the most fastidious and delicate, that re¬
pugnance they might have justly felt to her profession, if
she had lived much longer under its tarnishing influence, or
lost, by frequent exhibitions before the public, that fine gloss
of feminine modesty, for whose absence not all the talents
and accomplishments of the whole sex can atone.”
SHERIDAN.
Sheridan.
Even at this early age, she had been on the point of mar-
^riage with Mr Long, an old gentleman of considerable for¬
tune in Wiltshire ; but, on her secretly representing to him,
that she never could be happy as his wife, he generously
took upon himself the whole blame of breaking off the al¬
liance, and even indemnified the father by settling L.3000
upon his daughter. Mr Sheridan, who owed to this liber¬
ality not only the possession of the woman he loved, but the
means of supporting her during the first years of their mar¬
riage, uniformly spoke of Mr Long with all the kindness
and respect which such a disinterested character merited.
Meanwhile, in love, as in all besides, the power of a mind
like Sheridan’s made itself felt through all obstacles; and
he won the entire affections of the Syren, though the num¬
ber and wealth of his rivals, amongst whom were a brother
and friend, the ambitious views of the father, and the temp¬
tations to which she was hourly exposed, kept his fears and
jealousies continually on the watch. But, whilst this was
the case, a new and unexpected difficulty awaited him.
Captain Mathews, a married man, and intimate with
Miss Linley’s family, had for some time harassed her with
those discreditable addresses, which it is equally painful to
disclose and intolerable to endure. To the threat of self-
destruction, he is said to have added the still more unman¬
ly menace of ruining her reputation, if he could not un¬
dermine her virtue. Terrified by his perseverance, she
confided her distresses to Sheridan, who lost no time in
expostulating with him upon the cruelty, libertinism, and
hopelessness of his pursuit. Such a remonstrance, how¬
ever, was but little calculated to conciliate the forbearance
of this professed man of gallantry; so that, early in 1772,
Miss Linley adopted the resolution of flying to France, and
taking refuge in a convent. At this time Sheridan was
little more than twenty, and Miss Linley just entering her
eighteenth year. Landing at Dunkirk, they proceeded to
Lisle, where they procured an apartment in a convent, with
the intention of remaining there until Sheridan should have
the means of supporting her as his wife. On the first dis¬
covery of the elopement, Mathews busied himself making
inquiries into the affair. During the four or five weeks
that the young couple were absent, he never ceased to
haunt the Sheridan family with all sorts of exaggerated
rumours; and at length, urged on by the restlessness of
revenge, he inserted a violent and inflammatory advertise¬
ment in the Bath Chronicle, in which he publicly posted
Mi Sheridan as a scoundrel and a liar. "Ihe consequences
of this were such as might have been expected. The
party now returned from the Continent, and, without loss
of time, Sheridan called out Mathews. His second on the
occasion was Mr Ewart, and the particulars of the duel,
which was fought with swords, are stated by himself in a
letter addressed to Captain Knight, the second of Mathews,
from this it appears that Mathews, being worsted, was ob¬
liged to beg his life; after which he signed an ample apo¬
logy, in which he retracted the expressions he had made
use of, as “ the effects of passion and misrepresentation,”
and begged pardon for his advertisement in the Bath Chro¬
nicle.
With the odour of this transaction fresh about him, Mr
Mathews retired to his estate in Wales, and there found
himself universally shunned. An apology may be, accord¬
ing to circumstances, either the noblest effort of manliness,
or the last resource of fear ; and, from the reception which
this gentleman everywhere experienced, it is evident that
to the latter class of cases his late retraction had been re¬
ferred. In this crisis, a Mr Barnett, who had but lately
come to reside in his neighbourhood, took upon himself
the duty of urging a second meeting with Sheridan, as the
only means of removing the stigma left by the first; offering,
at the same time, to be the bearer of the challenge. This
0 er was accepted, and the parties met at Kingsdown, where
107
a desperate encounter ensued, in which Mr Sheridan’s sword Sheridan,
was broken, and himself severely wounded. A narrative of'
this affair, drawn up by Mr Barnett, and sanctioned by the
concurrence of Captain Paumier (Sheridan’s friend) in the
truth of its material facts, was soon afterwards published;
whilst the comments which Sheridan thought it necessary
to make have been found in an unfinished state amongst
his papers. As soon as Sheridan was sufficiently recovered
of his wounds, his father sent him to pass some months at
Waltham Abbey, Essex, where he continued, with but a
few short intervals of absence, from August or September
1/72, till the spring of the following year.
During this period, he evinced considerable industry,
particulaily in an abstract which he made of the History of
England, and in a collection of remarks on Sir William
iemples works, especially his essay on Popular Discon¬
tents, on which his observations are tasteful and just. Still
his situation was at this time singularly perplexing. He
had won the heart, and even the hand, of the woman he
loved, yet saw his hopes of possessing her farther off than
evei. He had twice risked his life against an unworthy
antagonist, yet found the vindication of his honour incom¬
plete. He felt within himself all the proud consciousness
of genius, yet, thrown upon the world without a profession,
he looked in vain for a channel through which to direct
its energies. Even the precarious hope which his father’s
favour held out had been purchased by an act of duplicity,
which his conscience condemned ; for he not only had pro¬
mised that he would instantly abandon the pursuit, but had
even taken an oath that he would never marry Miss Linley.
To a mind so young and so ardent, the pressure of these
various anxieties must, of course, have been great; in fact
they could only have been adequately described by him who
felt them ; and there still exist some letters, written by him
during this time, which betray a sadness and despondency,
sometimes breaking out into aspirings of ambition, some¬
times rising even into a tone of cheerfulness, that ill con¬
cealed the melancholy underneath. But it was impossible
that Sheridan could be always under a cloud. Misunder¬
standings there no doubt were, arising probably from those
paroxysms of jealousy into which he must have been con¬
tinually thrown; but reconcilement was with no great dif¬
ficulty effected ; and at length Mr Linley, convinced that
it was impossible to keep them much longer asunder, con¬
sented to their union, which took place on the 13th of April
1773. ^
A few weeks previous to his marriage, Sheridan had
been entered a student of the Middle Temple. It was not
to be expected, however, that talents like his would submit
to toil for the distant and deai'ly-earned emoluments which
a life of labour in this profession might secure ; nor, indeed,
did his circumstances admit of any such patient speculation.
A part of the sum which Mr Long had settled upon Miss
Linley, and occasional assistance from her father, were now
the only resources left him, besides his own talents. Mrs
Sheridan’s celebrity as a singer was a ready source of wealth,
and offers of the most advantageous kind were pressed upon
them by the managers of concerts, both in town and coun¬
try. But her husband at once rejected all thoughts of al¬
lowing her to re-appear in public, and, instead of profiting
by the display of his wife’s talents, adopted the manlier re¬
solution of seeking independence by his own. How de¬
cided his mind was upon the subject, appears by a letter
written to Mr Linley about a month after the marriage.
At East Burnham, whence this letter is dated, they were
now living in a small cottage, to which they had retired im¬
mediately on their marriage; and to it they often looked back
with a sigh, in after times, when they were more prosper¬
ous and less happy. Towards winter they went to lodge
for a short time with Storace, the intimate friend of Mr
Linley, and in the following year attained that first step
103 S II E R
Sheridan, towards independence, a house to themselves. During the
■"'v'-''—'' summer of 1774, they passed some time at Mr Canning’s and
Lord Coventry’s; but so little did these visits interfere with
the literary industry of Mr Sheridan, that he had not only
at that time finished his play of the Rivals, but was on the
point of “ sending a book to press.”
On the 17th of January 1775, the comedy of the Rivals
was brought out at Covent Garden. This play failed on
its first representation, chiefly owing to the bad acting of
Mr Lee in Sir Lucius O’Trigger. Another actor was, how¬
ever, substituted in his stead, and the play being lightened
of this and some other incumbrances, rose at once in pub¬
lic favour and patronage. The best comment on this live¬
ly play is to be found in the many smiling faces that are
lighted up whenever it appears. With much less wit, it
exhibits more humour than the School for Scandal, and the
dialogue is more natural, as coming nearer the current of
ordinary conversation. The characters, however, are not
such as occur very commonly in the world, and for our
knowledge of them we are indebted to their confessions
rather than to their actions. Lydia Languish, in proclaim¬
ing the extravagance of her own romantic notions, pre¬
pares us for events much more ludicrous and eccentric than
those in which she is concerned ; in the composition of Sir
Lucius O’Trigger, his love of fighting is the only charac¬
teristic strongly brought out; and the wayward, captious
jealousy of Falkland, though so highly coloured in his own
representation, is productive of nothing answerable to such
an announcement. The character of Sir Anthony Absolute
is perhaps the best sustained and most natural of any, and
the scenes between him.and Captain Absolute are genuinely
dramatic. Mrs Malaprop’s mistakes have often been ob¬
jected as improbable from a woman in her rank of life; but
though some of them are extravagant and farcical, they are
almost all amusing; and the luckiness of her simile, “ as
headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile,” has been
acknowledged by all whose taste is not too refined to be
moved by the genuine comic.
Mr Sheridan now employed the summer recess in writing
the Duenna, whilst his father-in-law, Mr Linley, assisted in
selecting and composing the music for it. In hands so will¬
ing, the work made speedy progress, and, on the 21st Novem¬
ber, the Duenna was performed at Covent Garden. The run
of this opera has, we believe, no parallel in the annals of the
drama. The Beggar’s Opera had a career of sixty-three
nights ; but the Duenna, more fortunate, was acted no less
than seventy-five times during the season, the only inter¬
missions being a few days at Christmas, and the Fridays
in every week. In order to counteract this great success
of the rival house, Garrick found it necessary to bring for¬
ward all the weight of his best characters ; and he had even
recourse to the expedient of playing off the mother against
the son, by reviving Mrs Frances Sheridan’s comedy of the
Discovery, and acting the leading character in it himself.
The Duenna, in fact, is one of the very few operas in our
language which combine the merits of legitimate comedy
with the attractions of poetry and song. The “ sovereign
of the soul,” as Gray calls music, always loses by being made
exclusive sovereign; and the division of her empire with
poetry and wit, as in the instance of the Duenna, doubles
her real power. The intrigue of this piece is constructed
and managed with considerable adroitness, having just ma¬
terial enough to form three acts, without being encumbered
by too much intricacy, or weakened by too much exten¬
sion. And as to the wit of the dialogue, except in one or
two instances, it is of that accessible kind which lies near
the surface, and which, as it is produced without effort, may
be enjoyed without wonder.
Towards the close of the year 1775, Garrick intending
to part with his moiety of the patent of Drury Lane theatre,
and retire from the stage, Mr Sheridan made him an offer
I D A N.
as purchaser, and eventually became patentee and manager. Sheridan.
The progress of the negociation cannot be better related ■'
than in some of Sheridan’s own letters, addressed to Mr
Linley, which Mr Moore has printed. It appears, indeed,
that the contract was perfected in June 1776 ; and in a paper
drawn up by Mr Sheridan many years afterwards, the shares
of the respective purchasers are thus stated, viz. Mr Sheri¬
dan, tw'o fourteenths of the whole, L. 10,000; Mr Linley, the
same, L.10,000 ; and Dr Ford, three fourteenths, L.15,000.
Whence Mr Sheridan’s supply came, or to whom he was
indebted for this seasonable aid, has never been known.
Not even to Mr Linley, whilst entering into all other details,
does he hint at the fountain-head from which it was to
come ; and, indeed, there was something mysterious about
all his acquisitions, whether in love or in learning, in wit or
in wealth. Finally, in reference to this subject, the first
contribution which the new manager furnished to the stock
of the theatre was an alteration of Vanburgh’s comedy, the
Relapse, which was brought out on the 24th of February
1777, under the title of a Trip to Scarborough.
Mr Sheridan was now approaching the summit of his
dramatic fame. He had already produced the best opera
in the language, and there now remained for him the glory
of writing also the best comedy. As this is a species of
composition which, more perhaps than any other, seems to
require a knowledge of human nature and the world, it is
not a little extraordinary that nearly all our first-rate co¬
medies should have been the productions of very young
men. Those of Congreve were all written before he was
five-and-twenty. Farquhar produced the Constant Couple
in his two-and-twentieth year, and died at thirty. Vanburgh
was a young ensign when he sketched out the Relapse and
the Provoked Wife ; and Sheridan crowned his reputation
with the School for Scandal at six-and-twenty. And it is
still more remarkable to find, as in the instance before us,
that works, which we might suppose to have been the off¬
spring of a careless but vigorous fancy, should, on the con-
trarj', have been the slow result of many doubtful experi¬
ments, gradually unfolding beauties unseen even by him who
produced them, and at length arriving step by step at per¬
fection. That the School for Scandal was produced by this
tardy process, is evident from the sketches of its plan and
dialogue which Mr Moore has produced, and which serve
to throw a remarkable light on the first slow workings of
genius, out of which its finest transmutations arise. The
reader who may feel curious on this subject is referred to
Mr Moore’s clear and masterly exposition. Suffice it to
mention, that there are two distinct sketches, in the second
of which particularly, is shown the condensing process which
his wit must have gone through before it attained its present
proof and flavour. There appear also to have been originally
two plots, which the author incorporated into one; yet, even
in the details of the new plan, considerable alterations were
subsequently made, entire scenes suppressed or transposed,
and the dialogue of some completely rewritten.
This play was produced on the 8th of May 1777, and its
success was decided and triumphant. Indeed, long after its
first uninterrupted run, it continued to be played regularly
two or three times a week ; and on comparing the receipts
of the first twelve nights with those of a later period, it will
appear how little the attraction of the piece had abated by
repetition. The beauties of this comedy are so universally
known, that it cannot be necessary to dwell upon them.
With but little interest in the plot, no very profound or in¬
genious development of character, and a group of person¬
ages, not one of whom has any legitimate claims upon either
our affection or esteem, it yet, by the admirable skill with
which its materials are managed, the happy contrivance of
the situations, that perpetual play of wit which never tires,
and a finish almost faultless, it unites the suffrages at once
of the refined and the simple, and is not less successful in
SHERIDAN.
satisfying the tastes of the one, than in ministering to the
v enjoyment of the other. And this is the true triumph of
genius in all the arts. In painting, sculpture, music, or litera¬
ture, those works which have pleased the greatest number for
the longest space of time, may be pronounced the best; for,
however mediocrity may enshrine itself in the admiration of
the few, the palm of excellence can only be awarded by the
many. The defects of the School for Scandal, if they can
be allowed to amount to defects, are in a great measure
traceable to the amalgamation of two distinct plots, out of
which the piece was formed. From this cause has devolved
that excessive opulence with which the dialogue is almost
overloaded, and which Sheridan himself used to mention as
a fault which he was conscious of in his work. From be¬
ginning to end, it is a continued sparkling of point and po¬
lish ; and the whole of the characters might be compre¬
hended under one common designation of wits, even Trip,
the servant, being as shining and brilliant as the rest. “ In
short,” says Mr Moore, “ the entire comedy is a sort of El
Dorado of wit, where the precious metal is thrown about
by all classes, as carelessly as if they had not the least idea
of its value.”
Soon after the appearance of this comedy, Sheridan made
a further purchase of theatrical property, amounting to
L.l7,000; and amongst the visible signs of his increased
influence in the affairs of the house, was the appointment,
this year, of his father to be manager. At the beginning
of the year 1779, Garrick died, and Sheridan, who had fol¬
lowed his body to the grave, wrote a monody to his me¬
mory, which was recited after the play in the month of
March following. In the course of the same year he pro¬
duced the entertainment of the Critic, which was his last
legitimate offering at the shrine of the dramatic muse. In
this incomparable farce, we have a striking instance of the
privilege which genius assumes of taking up subjects that
had passed through other hands, and giving them new value
and currency. I he plan of the Rehearsal was first adopted
tor the purpose of ridiculing Dryden ; but although there
is much laughable humour in some of the dialogue, the salt
was not of a very conservative nature, and the piece con¬
tinued to be served up to the public long after it had lost
its relish. Fielding tried the same plan in a variety of pro¬
ductions, but without much success, except, perhaps, in the
comedy of Pasquin. It was reserved for Sheridan to give
vitality to this form of dramatic humour, and to invest even
his satirical portraits with a generic, which, without weak¬
ening the particular resemblance, makes them representa¬
tives of the whole class to which the original belonged.
-Bayes, on the other hand, is a caricature made up of little
more than personal peculiarities, but may amuse as long as
reference may be had to the prototype, but fall lifeless the
moment the individual that supplied them is no more.
Having terminated his dramatic career, in which he had
been eminently successful, Sheridan now prepared to act a
part in a widely different scene. His thoughts had been gra¬
dually drawn to the seducing subject of politics, on which
tie had tried his hand at some very fair remarks on absen-
u-8!? I i a^so ren(^ered some service to the party with
which he had connected himself, by taking an active share
in a periodical publication called the Englishman ; and his
fa-?ua&pearanCe before tbe public was made in conjunction
with Mr Fox, at the beginning of 1780, when the Resolu-
10ns on the State of the Representation, together with a
report on the same subject, were laid before the public,
-the dissolution of parliament, which took place in the
autumn of 1780, at length afforded the opportunity to
hich his ambition had so eagerly looked forward ; and
Stafford was destined to have the honour of first choosing
him for its representative. It is not our intention, how-
:rhV?:nVeSt\iate hls P01^?1 with the same minuteness
i erary life ; and this is the less necessary, seeing
109
that the amplest narrative would probably be the heaviest, Sheridan,
and that the masterly pen of Lord Brougham has sketched '
an outline which must be fully sufficient to satisfy the in¬
quiries of the most curious and inquisitive.
“ His first effort,” says Lord Brougham, “ was unambi¬
tious, and it was unsuccessful. Aiming at but a low flight,
w arn ^ tbat bu™ble attempt. An experienced judge,
Woodfall, told him it would never do; and counselled him
to seek again the more congenial atmosphere of Drury
Lane. But he was resolved that it should do; he had
ta en his part; and as he felt the matter was in him, he
vowed not to desist till he had brought it out. What he
wanted in acquired learning and natural quickness, he made
up by indefatigable industry. Within given limits, towards
a present object, no labour could daunt him ; no man could
woi or a season with more steady and unwearied appli¬
cation. By constant practice in small matters, or before
pi ivate committees, by diligent attendance upon all debates,
by habitual intercourse with all dealers in political wares,
fiom the chiefs of parties and their more refined coteries,
to the providers of daily discussion for the public, and the
chroniclers of parliamentary speeches, he trained himself to
a facility of speaking, absolutely essential to all but first-
rate genius, and all but necessary even to that; and he ac¬
quired what acquaintance with the science of politics he ever
possessed, or his speeches ever betrayed. By these steps
he rose to the rank of a first-rate speaker, and as great a
debater as a want of readiness, and need for preparation,
would permit.
“ He had some qualities which led him to this rank, and
which only required the habit of speech to bring them out
into successful exhibition; a warm imagination, though more
prone to repeat with variations the combinations of others,
or to combine anew their creations, than to bring forth
original productions; a fierce, dauntless spirit of attack; a
familiarity, acquired from his dramatic studies, with the feel¬
ings of the heart and the ways to touch its chords; a faci¬
lity of epigram and point, the yet more direct gift of the
same theatrical apprenticeship; an excellent manner, not
unconnected with that experience; and a depth of voice
which perfectly suited the tone of his declamation, be it in¬
vective, or be it descriptive, or be it impassioned. His wit,
derived from the same source, or sharpened by the same
previous habits, was eminently brilliant, and almost always
successful. It was, like all his speaking, exceedingly pre¬
pared, but it was skilfully introduced, and happily applied i
and it was well mingled also with humour, occasionally de¬
scending to farce. How little it was the inspiration of the
moment, all men were aware who knew his habits; but a
singular proof of this was presented by Mr Moore when he
came to write his life; for we there find given to the world,
with, a frankness which must almost have made the author-
shake in his grave, the secret note-books of this famous wit;
and are thus enabled to trace his jokes, in embryo, with which
he had so often made the walls of St Stephen’s shake, in a
merriment excited by the happy appearance of sudden un¬
premeditated effusion.
“ The adroitness with which he turned to account sud¬
den occasions of popular excitement, and often at the ex¬
pense of the Whig party, generally too indifferent to such
advantages, and too insensible to the damage they thus sus¬
tained in public estimation, is well known. On the mutiny
in the fleet, he was beyond all question right; on the
French invasion, and on the attacks upon Napoleon, he was
almost as certainly wrong; but these appeals to the’people,
and to the national feelings of the House, tended to make
the orator well received, if they added little to the states¬
man’s reputation; and of the latter character he was not
ambitious. His most celebrated speech was certainly the
one upon the Begum charge, in the proceedings against
Hastings; and nothing can exceed the accounts left us of
110
SHERIDAN.
Sheridan, its unprecedented success. Not only the practice then first
' began, which has gradually increased till it greets every
good speech, of cheering, on the speaker resuming his seat,
but the minister besought the House to adjourn the deci¬
sion of the question, as being incapacitated from forming a
just judgment under the influence of such powerful elo¬
quence ; whilst all men on all sides vied with each other in
extolling so wonderful a performance. Nevertheless, the
opinion has now become greatly prevalent, that a portion
of this success was owing to the speech having so greatly
surpassed all the speaker’s former efforts, to the extreme
interest of the topics which the subject naturally presented,
and to the artist-like elaboration and beautiful delivery of
certain fine passages, rather than to the merits of the whole.
Certain it is, that the repetition of great part of it, present¬
ed in the short-hand notes of the speech on the same charge,
in Westminster Hall, disppoints every reader who has
heard of the success which attended the earlier effort. In
truth, Mr Sheridan’s taste was very far from being chaste,
or even moderately correct. He delighted in gaudy figures ;
he was attracted by glare, and cared not whether the bril¬
liancy came from tinsel or gold, from broken glass or pure
diamond; he overlaid his thoughts with epigrammatic dic¬
tion ; he ‘ played to the galleries,’ and indulged them, of
course, with an endless succession of claptraps. His worst
passages by far were those which he evidently preferred
himself, full of imagery, often far-fetched, oftener gorgeous,
and loaded with point that drew the attention of the hearer
away from the thoughts to the words; and his best by far
were those where he declaimed, with his deep clear voice,
though somewhat thick utterance, with a fierce defiance of
some adversary, or an unappeasable vengeance against some
oppressive act; or reasoned rapidly, in the like tone, upon
some plain matter of fact, or exposed as plainly to homely
ridicule some puerile sophism ; and in all this his admirable
manner was aided by an eye singularly piercing,1 and a
countenance which, though coarse, and even in some features
gross, was yet animated and expressive, and could easily as¬
sume the figure of both rage, and menace, and scorn. The
few sentences with which he thrilled the House, on the liber¬
ty of the press, in 1810, were worth, perhaps, more than all
his elaborated epigrams and forced flowers on the Begum
charge, or all his denunciations of Napoleon, ‘ whose morn¬
ing orisons and evening prayers are for the conquest of
England, whether he bends to the God of Battles or wor¬
ships the Goddess of Reason certainly far better than such
pictures of his power, as Ins having ‘ thrones for his watch-
towers, kings for his sentinels, and for the palisades of his castle
sceptres stuck with crowns.’ ‘ Give them,’ said he in 1810,
and in a far higher strain of eloquence, ‘ a corrupt House
of Lords; give them a venal House of Commons; give
them a tyrannical prince; give them a truckling court,—and
let me but have an unfettered press; I will defy them to
encroach a hair’s breadth upon the liberties of England.’
Of all his speeches, there can be little doubt that the most
powerful, as the most chaste, was his reply, in 1805, upon
the motion which he had made for repealing the Defence
Act. Mr Pitt had unwarily thrown out a sneer at his sup¬
port of Mr Addington, as though it was insidious. Such a
stone, cast by a person whose house, on that aspect, was
one pane of glass, could not fail to call down a shower of
missiles; and they who witnessed the looks and gestures
of the aggressor, under the pitiless pelting of the tempest
which he had provoked, represent it as certain that there
were moments when he intended to fasten a personal quar¬
rel upon the vehement and implacable declaimer.
“ When the just tribute of extraordinary admiration has
been bestowed \ipon this great orator, the whole of his
praise has been exhausted. As a statesman, he is without
a place in any class, or of any rank; it would be incorrect Sheridan,
and flattering to call him a bad, or a hurtful, or a short- s—
sighted, or a middling statesman ; he was no statesman at
all. As a party man, his character stood lower than it de¬
served, chiefly from certain personal dislikes towards him ;
for, with the perhaps doubtful exception of his courting
popularity at his party’s expense, on the two occasions al¬
ready mentioned, and the much more serious charge against
him of betraying his party in the Carlton House negocia-
tion of 1812, followed by his extraordinary denial of the
facts when he last appeared in parliament, there can no¬
thing be laid to his charge as inconsistent with the rules of
the strictest party duty and honour ; although he made as
large sacrifices as any unprofessional man ever did to the
cause of a long and hopeless opposition, and was often
treated with unmerited coldness and disrespect by his co¬
adjutors. But as a man his character stood confessedly
low. His intemperate habits, and his pecuniary embarrass¬
ments, did not merely tend to imprudent conduct, by
which himself alone might be the sufferer; they involved
his family in the same fate ; and they also undermined those
principles of honesty which are so seldom found to survive
fallen fortunes, and hardly ever can continue the ornament
and the stay of ruined circumstances, when the tastes and
the propensities engendered in prosperous times survive
through the ungenial season of adversity.”
Sheridan was indeed most unfortunate. Whilst death was
fast gaining on him, the miseries of life were thickening
around him ; nor did the last corner where he now lay
down to die, afford him any asylum from the clamours of
his legal pursuers. Writs and executions came in rapid
succession, and bailiffs at length got possession of the house.
A sheriff’s officer arrested the dying man in his bed, and
was about to carry him off in his blankets to a spunging
house, when he was prevented by an intimation of the re¬
sponsibility he must incur, if, as was but too probable,
his prisoner should expire on the way. In the mean time,
the attention and sympathy of the public were awakened
to the desolate condition of Sheridan, by an article which
appeared in the Morning Post, written, it seems, by a gen¬
tleman who, though on no very cordial terms with him,
forgot every other feeling in a generous pity for his fate,
and in honest indignation against those who had deserted
him. But it was now too late. Its effect, indeed, was
soon visible in the calls made at Sheridan’s door, amongst
which the Duke of York and the Duke of Argyll appeared
as visiters; but the spirit that these unavailing tributes
might once have comforted was fast losing the conscious¬
ness of every thing earthly; and, after a succession of
shivering fits, he fell into a state of exhaustion, which
continued till his death. He expired on Sunday, the 7th
of July 1816, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, and was
buried on the Saturday following, many royal and noble
persons crowding round his insensible clay, whose notice,
had it been earlier, might have soothed and comforted his
death-bed, and saved his heart from breaking, (j. b—e.)
Sheridan, -Dt* Thomas, the intimate friend of Dean
Swift, is said by Shiels, in the book known as Cibbers Lives
of the Poets, to have been born about 1684, in the county of
Cavan, where, according to the same authority, his parents
lived in no very elevated state. They are described as be¬
ing unable to afford their son the advantages of a liberal edu¬
cation ; but he, being observed to give early indications of
genius, attracted the notice of a friend of his family, who
sent him to Trinity College, Dublin. He afterwards entered
into orders, and set up a school in Dublin, which long main¬
tained a high reputation. From this very popular semi¬
nary he is said occasionally to have derived L.1000 a-year.
It does not appear that he had any considerable prefer-
1 It had the singularity of never winking.
S H E R
Sheridan, ment; but his intimacy with Swift procured for him, in
1725, a living in the south of Ireland, worth about L.150
a-year, which he went to take possession of, and, by an
act of inadvertance, destroyed all his future expectations of
rising in the church ; for, being at Cork on the 1st of
August, the anniversary of King George’s birthday, he
preached a sermon which had for its text, “ Sufficient for
the day is the evil thereof.” On this being known, he was
struck out of the list of chaplains to the lord-lieutenant, and
henceforward forbidden the Castle. This living Dr Sheri¬
dan afterwards changed for that of Dunboyne, which, by the
knavery of the farmers, and the power of the gentlemen in
the neighbourhood, fell so low as L.80 per annum. He gave
it up for the free school of Cavan, where he might have
lived well in so cheap a country on a salary of L.80 a-year,
besides his pupils; but the air being, as he said, too moist
and unwholesome, and being disgusted with some persons
who lived there, he sold the school for about L.400; and
having soon spent the money, he fell into bad health, and
died on the 10th of September 1738, in his fifty-fifth year.
One of the volumes of Swift’s miscellanies consists almost
entirely of letters between him and Sheridan. He pub¬
lished a prose translation of Persius; to which he added
the best notes of former editors, together with many judi¬
cious ones of his own. This work was printed at London,
1739, in 12mo.
Lord Cork has given the following character of him':—-
“ Dr Sheridan was a schoolmaster, and in many instances
perfectly well adapted for that station. He was deeply
versed in the Greek and Roman languages, and in their
customs and antiquities. He had that kind of good nature
which absence of mind, indolence of body, and careless¬
ness of fortune, produce; and although not over strict in
his own conduct, yet he took care of the morality of his
scholars, whom he sent to the university remarkably well
founded in all kinds of classical learning, and not ill in¬
structed in the social duties of life. He was slovenly, indi¬
gent, and cheerful. He knew books much better than
men; and he knew the value of money least of all. In
this situation, and with this disposition, Swift fastened upon
him as upon a prey with which he intended to regale him¬
self whenever his appetite should prompt him.” His lord-
ship then mentions the event of the unlucky sermon, and
adds, “ This ill-starred, good-natured, improvident man
returned to Dublin, unhinged from all favour at court, and
even banished from the Castle. But still he remained a
punster, a quibbler, a fiddler, and a wit. Not a day passed
without a rebus, an anagram, or a madrigal.”
Sheridan. Thomas, author of the General Dictionary
of the English Language, was the son of Dr Sheridan,
and the father of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and was
born at Quilea, in Ireland, the residence of Dean Swift,
in 1721. He was treated with uniform kindness by the
great ^satirist, who was his godfather, and who showed
him what tenderness he could during his life. He received
his early education in his father’s house, and was subse¬
quently sent to Westminster, till the funds failed, when he
was compelled again to retrace his steps. He entered
Trinity College, Dublin, where he took his degree. On
his father’s death, in 1738, he found himself suddenly un¬
provided for. Having caught up, or having been born with,
a grand idea of the extraordinary moral effects to be ac¬
complished by the use of the oratorical art, he resolved to
devote his life to its exposition. As the first step in his
great vocation, he entered a theatre in Smock Alley, where
he personated Richard III., “ with the greatest encourage¬
ment,” in January 1743. Next year he went to London,
to reap new laurels at Covent Garden, and in 1745 he was
set up as a rival to Garrick, who could brook no competitor.
Sheridan found it to be for his interest to return to the Irish
metropolis, whose inhabitants had not yet forgotten the
I D A N. in
enthusiastic orator of a few years ago. Here he became Sheridan,
manager of the theatre, and during the ensuing eight years
of his superintendence, the metropolitan stage seems to
have risen considerably in respectability. At an unlucky
hour he attempted to humour the political tastes of the
public by playing Miller’s Mahomet. This took exceed¬
ingly well. But where was it to end? Like a tiger that
has tasted blood, the fierce mob became restless and wild,
and insisted upon its accustomed treat. The manager
said gravely that there must be an end to these brawls,
w hen the audience rose, and, in its fury, slashed the scenery
with sword-blades, tore up the benches and boxes, and
ended by totally despoiling the building. Thus ended
Sheridan’s first school of oratory. In 1751 appeared his
greatest contribution to the art of oratory, for this was the
year in which his illustrious son, Richard Brinsley Sheridan,
was born. His faith in the omnipotence of this ancient art
continued. He published a plan for an academy to educate
“youth in every qualification necessary for a gentleman,”
and in which oratory was to be the beginning, middle, and
end of their scholastic accomplishments. The orator gave
three separate orations to prove the quality of the future
superintendent, and to illustrate the vital force of his great
discovery. The audience shrugged their shoulders, and gave
the conduct of their institution into other hands.
Sheridan was not to be daunted. In 1759 he was lec¬
turing the English on his favourite hobby. He had pub¬
lished an essay on British Education : the source of the
disorders in Great Britain, 1755, in which he humbly
attempted to show the British public, that the source of all
their evils, both public and private, was to be traced to a
neglect of the ancient and venerable art of public speaking.
The British public seem temporarily to have been taken
by it. Sheridan lectured himself into an M.A. at Cam¬
bridge, and achieved other wonders equally notable by the
fascination of his speech at London and Oxford. In 1760
he again tried Drury Lane, but Garrick still recollected
his old affront, and Sheridan had to go about his business.
He published A Course of Lectures on Elocution in 1762,
fraught with the old burden. George III. granted him a
pension, on which he might have practised oratory to the
great edification of the British people and the no small
delight of himself; but some busybody whispered the fact
to Samuel Johnson, who blustered out, in his violent way,
“What, give him a pension! then I must give up mine.”
On this Coming to Sheridan’s ears it wounded him mightily ;
but he had recourse again to oratory as his panacea. Next
he moved northward, to try the effect of his eloquence upon
the cool heads of the Scottish metropolis. The northern
worthies seem to have been moved by the force of his per¬
suasive tongue. Blair, Ferguson, and Robertson were en¬
rolled as directors of a society for the promotion of public
speaking. How long this Irish importation flourished in
Edinburgh does not appear. Moving south, he published
in 1769 his Plan of Education for the Young Nobility and
Gentry of Great Britain. Ireland found herself again ex¬
cluded from the benevolent endeavours of this reforming
educationist. He dedicated, in his loftiest manner, this
small work to the king, observing at the same time, that
“ if the design be not executed by myself, it never will be
by any other hand.” It must have gratified his majesty to
find so devoted a subject; but nothing seems to have come
out of all this kneeling and prostration at the foot of the
throne. He continued to lecture and vend sarcasms against
the miserable taste of the age, when America suddenly de¬
clared her independence. He then informed his audience
that he had come to the resolution of “benefiting the new
world with the advantages ungratefully neglected by my
own country.” Sheridan subsequently performed at the
Haymarket and at Covent Garden, up to 1776; and on
Garrick’s retirement from Drury Lane he was appointed
112 SHE
Sherif-ed- manager. He held this post for the next three years. He
Been- published, on his retirement, his Dictionary of the English
Yezdi Language, 2 vols. 1780 ; and an edition of Swift’s works, in
II 17 vols. 1784, with a Life of Swift prefixed, a lumbering
^heriock. worj^ which had better not have been written. He visited
Ireland in 1786, and returned to England, where he died at
Margate, on the 14th of August 1788, in his sixty-seventh
year. There is ascribed to Sheridan a farce called Captain
O' Blunder.
SHERIF-ED-DEEN-YEZDI, Moolah Alt, a cele¬
brated Persian historian, of whom hardly anything is known,
was born at Yezd, in Persia, during the fifteenth century
of our era. He was a doctor of the Moslem law, and
lived at Shiraz, where he wrote the work by which he is
now known, and on which his reputation is founded. This
was the Zuffer-Nameh, or book of Victories of the cele¬
brated Timur or Tamerlane. This work, which is greatly
too much overloaded with metaphor and ornate expression
for the occidental taste, possesses, nevertheless, great merit
for the oriental beauty in which it is so lustrously set. “His
geography and chronology,” says Gibbon, in his History of
the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. xii.,
“ are wonderfully accurate; and he may be trusted for
public facts, though he servilely praises the virtue and for¬
tune of his hero.” His encomiums on Timour are indeed
carried to the most fulsome extent of oriental panegyric;
but both gratitude and interest would combine to produce
this effect; and the bias thus shown is in some measure
useful as enabling us to qualify the equally exaggerated
invectives of another biographer of Timour, the Syrian
Arabshah. Yezdi’s book is a panegyric of Tamerlane, and
an eastern panegyric too. This work has been translated
into French and Turkish.
SHERIFF. See Scotland.
SHERLOCK, William, a learned English divine, was
born at Southwark in 1641, and educated at Eton school,
where he distinguished himself by the vigour of his genius
and his application to study. From this he was removed
to Cambridge, where he took his degrees. In 1669 he
became rector of the parish of St George, Botolph Lane,
in London; and in 1681 was collated to the prebend of St
Pancras, in the cathedral of St Paul’s. He was likewise
chosen master of the Temple, and had the rectory of
Therfield, in Herefordshire. After the Revolution he was
suspended from his preferment, for refusing the oaths to
William and Mary; but at last he took them, and publicly
justified what he had done in his publication of the Alle¬
giance of the Two Sovereign Powers. His case excited im¬
mense sensation. According to Lord Macaulay {Hist, of
Eng. vol. vi. p. 48, 1858), “the replies to the doctor, the
vindications of the doctor, the pasquinades on the doctor,
would fill a library.” In 1691 he was installed as dean of
St Paul’s. His Vindication of the Doctrine of the Trinity
engaged him in a warm controversy with Dr South and
others. Bishop Burnet tells us he was “ a clear, a polite,
and a strong writer; but apt to assume too much to him¬
self, and to treat his adversaries with contempt.” He died
in 1707. His works are very numerous, among which are
—A Discourse concerning the Knowledge of Jesus Christ,
(against Dr Owen) 1674; Several pieces against thePapists,
the Socinians, and Dissenters ; A Practical Discourse on
Death, 16th edition, 1715, which has been more frequently
reprinted than any of Sherlock’s other works ; A Practical
Discourse on Providence, 1715 ; A Practical Discourse on
the Future Judgment, 1699.
Sherlock, Dr Thomas, Bishop of London, was the son
of the preceding, and was bom in 1678. He was educated
in Catherine Hall, Cambridge, where he took his degrees,
and of which he became master. He was made master of the
Temple when very young, on the resignation of his father;
and it is remarkable, that this mastership was held by
SHE
father and son successively for more than seventy years. Sherwin
He was at the head of the opposition against Dr Hoadley, II
Bishop of Bangor, during which contest he published a ShetLnd.
great number of pieces. He attacked Collins’s Grounds
and Reasons of the Christian Religion, in a course of six
sermons, preached at the Temple Church, which he entitled,
The Use and Intent of Prophecy in the Several Ages of the
World, 1725. In 1728, Dr Sherlock was promoted to the
bishopric of Bangor, and was translated to Salisbury in
1734. In 1747 he refused the archbishopric of Canter¬
bury, on account of his ill state of health ; but recovering
in a good degree, he accepted the see of London the fol¬
lowing year. On occasion of the earthquake in 1750, he
published an excellent Pastoral Letter to the clergy and
inhabitants of London and Westminster, of which it is
said there were printed in quarto 5000, in octavo 20,000,
and in duodecimo about 30,000, besides pirated editions
of which not less than 50,000 were supposed to have been
sold. Under the weak state of body in which he lay for
several years, he revised and published four volumes of
Sermons, in octavo, which are particularly admired for
their ingenuity and elegance. He died in 1762, worth
L.150,000. “ His learning,” says Dr Nicholls, “ was very
extensive. God had given him a great and an understand¬
ing mind, a quick comprehension, and a solid judgment.
These advantages of nature he improved by much industry
and application. His skill in the civil and canon law was
very considerable; to which he had added such a know¬
ledge of the common law of England as few clergymen at¬
tain to. This it was that gave him that influence in all
causes where the church was concerned, as knowing pre¬
cisely what it had to claim from its constitutions and
canons, and what from the common law of the land.” Dr
Nicholls then mentions his constant and exemplary piety,
his warm and fervent zeal in preaching the duties and
maintaining the doctrines of Christianity, and his large and
diffusive munificence and charity; particularly by his hav¬
ing given large sums of money to the corporation of clergy¬
men’s sons, to several of the hospitals, and to the Society
for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and also
bequeathing to Catherine Hall, in Cambridge, the place of
his education, his valuable library of books, and his dona¬
tions for the founding a librarian’s place and a scholarship,
to the amount of several thousand pounds. The works
of Dr Sherlock were published in 1830, in five vols. 8vo,
by the Rev. T. S. Hughes.
SHERWIN, John Keyse, an English engraver of con¬
siderable excellence, was born in Sussex about 1751.
Being of humble origin, he learned early to handle the
instrument of toil. The attention of his master, a Mi
Mitford of Petworth, having been drawn to some remark¬
able drawings which he had executed, he was induced to send
one to the Society of Arts, which obtained the silver pallet
as a reward. Having subsequently gone to Londpn to
learn the art of engraving, he studied under Ashley and
Bartolozzi. He won the silver and gold medals at the
Royal Academy, and carried off numerous honours from
the Society of Arts. Sherwin was appointed engraver to
his Majesty and the Prince of Wales in 1785, and con¬
tinued to drink, brag, and handle the graver, with surpris¬
ing assiduity. He certainly had genius, but he foolishly
supposed that this endowed him also with the right of bully¬
ing everybody, both of those above and of those beneath him.
His attention was confined mostly to portraits and historical
subjects, though he occasionally attempted oil-painting, as
in his “ Leonidas,” but with indifferent success. He died
on the 20th September 1790, in very melancholy circum¬
stances, in his thirty-ninth year. (See Gentleman’s Ma¬
gazine for 1790-91.)
SHETLAND, or Zetland Islands, a group belonging
to Scotland, the most northerly land included in the United
SHETLAND.
Shetland. Kingdom. Exclusive of the Fair Isle, midway between
Orkney and Shetland, and of Foula, which lies 20 miles to
the west, the group lies between N. Lat. 59. 52. and
60. 48., W. Long. 0. 45. and 1. 40. These islands are far
removed from any other land ; Orkney on the S.W. being
50 miles oft'; the Faroe group, on the N.W., 180 miles; and
the coast of Norway, on the E., 210 miles. The whole num¬
ber of islands and rocks is upwards of 100, but of these
only 32 are inhabited. The following is a list of the in¬
habited islands, beginning from the south :—
Pop. (1851). Pop. (1851).
280 Linga  8
Mickle Roe  290
Little Roe  11
Whalsay  679
885  
21
10
21
113
10
Pair Isle 
Munsa 
Bressay, East and West
Burra, Papa, and Hal-
vera 
Noss 
Linga 
Oxna 
Trondray  169
Mainland  21,613
Little Papa  1
Yaila....,  2
Foula    240
Papa Stour  359
Skerries (three)  105
Yell and Bigga  2696
Hascussay  13
Samphrey  30
Fetlar    658
Unstand Batta,  2961
Uya  16
Total  31,078
file entire area is 5588 square miles, about half of which
belongs to the Island of Mainland. This island extends
about 60 miles in length, from Sumburgh Head, its south¬
ern extremity, to Feideland Point in the north. To the
N.E. lies Yell, separated from Mainland by the Sound of
Yell; and still farther N.E. is Unst. The other islands,
which are much smaller, for the most part fringe the coast
of Mainland. These coasts are exceedingly irregular, beino-
indented by extensive land-locked bays, whose mouths
are sheltered by islands, and by long narrow arms of the
sea called voes. So much is this the case, that no part of
the island is more than 3 miles from the sea in one direo
tion or another. Yell and Unst are also irregular in out¬
line, but not so much so as the larger island; the former
of these is 20 miles long by 6 broad; the latter 11 by. 6.
e geneial appearance of Shetland from a distance-is not
very striking; for the land is all low, though there is a
great deal of bold and romantic cliff scenery. The highest
point in the islands is Roeness, in the north of Mainland
which only attains the height of 1500 feet above the sea’
On approaching Shetland from the south, the first point
that appears conspicuously is Fitfiel Head, an abrupt and
craggy promontory of Mainland, exceeding in altitude
Sumburgh Head further to the east. At the latter point
the tides from opposite sides of Shetland meet, causing a
tumultuous current, which makes a dark line on the ocean,
dying away towards Fair Isle. This is known by the name
of the Roust of Sumburgh ; and is a good place for the
sheiy of seethe or coal-fish (Gadus corbonarius). About
Dunrossness and Quendel, in the south of Mainland, there
are some fine corn-lands. Northwards from this, the land
consists of bleak hills and heaths, without a tree or even a
shrub; and is generally enveloped in damp mists. The coasts
are pierced with numerous creeks and inlets, and lined
will rugged cliffs and rocks; while the monotony of the
scene is occasionally relieved by groups of cottages, with
their patches of green corn-land enclosed with stone-dykes.
JNorth of the narrow strip of land that forms the southern
poition of the island, lies the picturesque bay and village of
bcalloway on the west coast, the green vale of Tingwall
bout the middle of the island, and the town of Lerwick on
the bound of Bressay, which separates Mainland from the
island °f that name to the east. Beyond Bressay lies the
island of Noss, which communicates with a rock called
tie Holm of Noss by a wooden trough or cradle, suspended
by rop's over a chasm 160 feet deep. North of Lerwick,
Mainland extends to a greater breadth, and consists for
me distance of extensive boggy meadows, containing
several lakes. On the Island of Whalsey, off the east coast Shetland
ot Mainland, an excellent system of farming is carried on ; ^
and in the Outskerries, the most easterly of all the islands’
there are extensive establishments for deep sea-fishing of
ling. The north-western part of Mainland is as wild and
gand in its scenery as any other portion of the island.
Here are seen the bare red summit of Roeness Hill, seve-
i a ^ Surrounded ^ heath and rocks, and the surges of
the Atlantic for ever dashing on the precipitous cliffs that
line the shore. Here is the large bay of St Magnus, at
the south side of which lies the Island of Papa Stour,
remarkable for its porphyritic rocks and underground ca¬
verns. Yell is a dull uninteresting island, but a great fish-
ing station; and Unst is of a bleak precipitous character.
/hf Island of Fetlar, to the east of Yell, contains very
fertile valleys. Foula, supposed to be the Ultima Thule
of the ancients, consists of five conical hills, rising abruptly
out of the sea to the height of 1300 feet. It is occupied
i -Va^ ,(,c , of sea-birds in summer, but they all take
their flight when winter sets in. The geological character
of the islands is very varied. In the southern portion of
t ie Mainland there is a central line of primitive clay-slate,
forming the range called the Cliff Hills; on the east of
which lies a series of blue and red sandstone, and on the
west beds of blue limestone. Further north a great de¬
posit of gneiss occupies the districts of Whiteness, Aith-
stmg, and Belting in die centre of Mainland; the Islands
of Burra, Oxna, and Irondrayon the west; Whalsay, the
kkemes, and Yell, with parts of Fetlar and Unst on the
east. Mica slate occurs in the peninsula of Eswick, on the
east of Mainland, and at Fadelant Point, in the extreme
noith. Roseness Hill and the adjoining country are com¬
posed of hard red granite, flanked on the south-east bygreen-
st?n®; /nd the. peninsula in the west forming the parish
of Walls, consists of primary quartz rocks. Granite is
found in some other parts of Mainland; and the hills of
retlar and Unst are for the most part composed of serpen¬
tine. The mineral riches of the country are not very great;
copper veins are found in the Fair Isle and elsewhere;
iron, mica, and pyrites in some places; and Unst is espe¬
cially remarkable for its chromate of iron. The climate
is, owing to the insular position of the land, less cold than
is common in such a high altitude; but the temperature
is liable to very great and sudden changes ; and the weather
is not unfrequently wet, foggy, and tempestuous. The
winter is very dark and gloomy ; but, on the other hand, in
the summer the sun hardly sinks below the horizon, and
bright twilight continues the whole night. Thus from the
middle of May to the end of July there is hardly any dark¬
ness in Shetland. I he soil of the islands is in general very
unfavourable for agriculture; and only a very small por¬
tion of it is arable. Indeed fishing, not farming, is the chief
object of attention both to landlords and tenants; and the
climate is so unpropitious that little else but the commonest
kinds of barley and oats are raised. In 1857 the islands
contained 1026 acres under a rotation of crops; of which
3 were of wheat, 4 of barley, 349 of oats, 91 of bere, 124
of turnips, 64 of potatoes, 371 of grass and hay, &c. The
plants and animals of Shetland resemble very much those
of Orkney. The country is not so much distinguished by the
presence of peculiar species as by its more limited vegeta¬
tion, and by the absence of many plants common elsewhere.
It has been estimated that there are 74 species of plants
peculiar to Shetland, 40 common to Shetland and Iceland,
37 to Shetland and Faroe, and 146 to all the three. The
most characteristic animals of the islands are the small
ponies or shelties. These are very diminutive, but strong
and hardy; they run wild on the heaths and pastures of
the island, and are exported in great numbers. The cattle,
sheep, and hogs of the islands are also small and of pecu¬
liar breeds; and the fleeces of the sheep are very much
I
114 SHE
Shetland, esteemed. The islands contained in 1857, 486 horses;
's—1094 cattle ; 6486 sheep; and 57 swine ; in all, 8123 live
stock. The most important source of wealth to the Shet¬
landers is the fisheries, in which by far the most of them
are employed. There are three different classes of fisheries;
the haaf, or deep-sea fishing; the herring fishery; and that
of the coal-fish. Of these the first is the most important;
cod, ling, and tusk being the chief kinds of fish obtained,
and furnishing the staple articles of export from Shetland.
A large bank of these fish extends from the north of Orkney
to the west of Shetland. This fishing is only carried on for
two or three months in summer, and it is an occupation
accompanied with much danger. The total number of cod
and ling taken in the Shetland Isles in 1857 was 1,342,172,
being more than a third of the whole number of these fish
taken in Scotland. This fishery, as well as that of herring,
was at one time almost exclusively in the hands of the
Dutch, who sent over annually about 2000 boats to engage
in them. Although towards the end of the seventeenth
century, and subsequently, this number was greatly re¬
duced, it is not one hundred^years since there were only three
British vessels engaged in the fisheries here. But from
the beginning of the present century, herring fishing has
made rapid progress among the Shetlanders; and in 1857
it employed 669 boats, with a tonnage of 1327. The
number of fishermen and boys in the same year was 2990;
the total number of persons employed 4121; and the
number of barrels of herrings cured 17,858. The total
value of boats, nets, and lines employed in fishing in Shet¬
land was, for the same year, L. 15,822. Very few manu¬
factures are carried on in Shetland, the only one of any
importance being hosiery from the fine wool of the sheep.
The plaiting of straw was formerly pursued in Lerwick,
but this has fallen off. Kelp is also prepared, but not to so
great an extent as in the Western Isles. The trade con¬
sists in the exportation of fish, hosiery, shelties, &c., in
exchange for the various necessaries and luxuries of life
which nature has denied to the Shetland Islands. The
inhabitants of Shetland are all of Scandinavian origin, and
differ entirely from the Highlanders of Scotland. They
are small, light, nimble and hardy, lively and versatile,
and fond of excitement. They do not speak Gaelic, nor
are any of the names of places Celtic; but they have re¬
tained many Norse words and idioms, and speak with
a quick pronunciation, quite different from that of the
Highlanders. The dress of the fishermen is peculiar, con¬
sisting of wide, neat skin-boots, reaching to the knee,
woollen breeches, a leather surtout, and a worsted cap.
The first people whom we know to have inhabited Shet¬
land was a tribe of Saxon rovers, but they were expelled
by Theodosius a.d. 368. In the sixth century it is pro¬
bable that the Scandinavians, from whom the present in¬
habitants are sprung, had already settled here. Harold
Harfager, who first united Norway into one kingdom in
875, reduced to subjection all the northern and western
islands, which had been previously held by petty chieftains
and pirates. Caithness, Orkney, and Shetland were then
made one earldom, and conferred on Siguard, who afterwards
considerably extended his dominions. The authority of
the earls over Shetland was, however, very slight, for it
was not the feudal system, but a totally different form of
government that prevailed here. The arable land was held
free from any tax or impost, and hence was called udal; the
pastures, for which a tax was paid, were known by the name
of scattald. The country was under a civil governor ap¬
pointed by the king, and was subdivided into lesser districts,
each governed by a.foude or inferior magistrate, from whom
there lay an appeal to the grand foude, or annual assembly
of all the udal proprietors. The Earl of Orkney had no
right to interfere with the civil affairs of the people; he
was only their military protector, under whose standard
SHI
they had to fight in case of invasion. In 1468 James III. Shield,
of Scotland received with the Princess Margaret of Den-
mark a dowry of 60,000 florins, in pledge for which Orkney
and Shetland were given; and in 1470 he purchased the
whole right to these islands and annexed them to the crown.
The various changes that took place in the earldom of
Orkney, which included Shetland, after its annexation to
the Scottish crown, are narrated in the article Orkney.
Under the various earls, especially those of the Stuart family,
the people were very much oppressed, from the constant
attempts to substitute the feudal system for their original
udal right. The ancient constitution was finally abolished
in the reign of Charles II. The islands now form, along
with Orkney, a county, which returns one member to the
Imperial Parliament, a privilege not possessed by Shetland
before the Reform Act of 1832. In ecclesiastical affairs
Shetland forms a synod of the Established Church, com¬
posed of three presbyteries and twelve parishes. The whole
number of places of worship in Orkney and Shetland,
according to the census of 1851, was 123, with 39,761
sittings—of the former 41 belonged to the Established
Church; 23 to the Free Church; 18 to the Wesleyans ;
16 to the Independents; 14 to the United Presbyterians;
9 to the Baptists; and 2 to the Original Seceders. At
the same period there were 111 public schools, and 36 pri¬
vate schools in the county. The number of proprietors
in Shetland is 574, and the valuation of rent for 1858-9
was L.24,698. Lerwick is the chief town, and it seems
to have been erected since the beginning of the seven¬
teenth century. There are many interesting remains of
antiquity in the Shetland Islands. Among these are many
Pictish towers, especially one in Munsa, which is one of
the most perfect Teutonic forts in Europe. The castle
of Scalloway is of a much later date, having been erected
in 1600; but it is now reduced to a mere shell. In the val¬
ley of Tingwall is still to be seen the place where the chief
magistrate of Shetland used to hold his court in the open air,
at the head of a small loch. The population of Shetland
in 1801 was 22,379; in 1811,22,915; in 1821, 26,145 ; in
1831, 29,392; in 1841, 30,558; and in 1851,31,078.*
SHIELD, William, a very popular English composer
of music, was born at Swalwell, in the county of Durham,
in 1749. His father, a teacher of singing, taught him the
elements of music, and he very early showed considerable
talent as a violinist. When nine years old he lost his
father, and was apprenticed to a boat-builder at North
Shields. His master treated him kindly, and encouraged
his musical pursuits. At the end of his apprenticeship he
resolved to adopt music as a profession ; and having become
favourably known as a violinist at Newcastle, attracted the
notice of Charles Avison, who gave him instructions in
harmony. Having been invited to lead the concerts at
Scarborough, he there became acquainted with Borghi the
violinist, and Fischer the famous oboeist, who induced him
to go to London, and obtained for him an engagement as
a violinist in the opera-house orchestra, then led by Giar-
dini. Soon after he was appointed principal viola by
Cramer, the new leader at the opera, and held that place
for eighteen years. In 1778 he made his first essay as a
dramatic composer in The Flitch of Bacon, which was very
successful. He was next engaged as composer to Covent
Garden Theatre, where his compositions became highly
popular. In 1791 he revisited Swalwell, and showed much
kindness and attention to his mother. While there he
made a collection of English Border Tunes, some of which
he published in his Budiments of Thorough Bass. In the
same year he visited France and Italy, and in 1792 re¬
turned to England, and composed again for Covent Garden
Theatre, but soon after gave up his engagement. In 1800
he published his Introduction to Harmony, a second edi¬
tion of which appeared in 1817. In that year Shield sue-
SHI
Shield ceeded Sir William Parsons as Master of the King’s Band,
|| with a yearly salary of L.250. He died of dropsy on 25th
Shields, January 1829, leaving a widow but no children, and was
buried in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey. Shield’s
v ^QU ^, great popularity arose from the simplicity and appropriate-
ness of his melodies, whether in ballad or opera-song. Al¬
ways vocal and pleasing, his melodies at once caught the
public ear, and became popular. Among his sea-songs, some
are peculiarly excellent, such as “ The Arethusa,” and <£ For
England when with Favouring Gale;” in his operas of “ The
Lock and Key,” and “ Hartford Bridge.” He was not a
trained and profound harmonist, as his instrumental music and
accompaniments prove. He was strong in melody, but feeble
in harmony. He composed thirty-four operatic works, and
a great many detached songs, besides six canzonets, and a
cento of ballads, rounds, &c. His instrumental compositions
consist of a concerto; duets for two violins; trios for two violins
and a bass. In these trios, he introduced an example of
that jerking and unmanageable rhythm, f. (g. f. g.)
SHIELD. See Army.
Shield. See Heraldry.
SHIELDS, North and South, two towns of England,
on opposite sides of the mouth of the Tyne, situated 8
miles below Newcastle, 16 miles N.N.E. of Durham, and
176 N.N.W. of London.
North Shields is a market-town in Northumberland,
forming, along with the adjacent village of Tynemouth, a
municipal and parliamentary borough. It extends for
about a mile along the river, and consists of an older and
a more recent portion; the former containing narrow alleys
and lanes, and the latter having many good houses, broad
streets, and spacious squares. There are several good
public buildings. Among these are the parish church of
Tynemouth, which stands at the east end of North Shields,
a handsome chapel of ease in the town, places of worship
belonging to the English Presbyterian Church, Wesleyan
and New Connexion Methodists, Baptists, Independents,
Quakers, and Roman Catholics. The educational estab¬
lishments are many and various, including national, British,
and infant schools. There is also a subscription library,
mechanics’ institute, theatre, assembly rooms, and baths.
Manufactures are extensively carried on at North Shields,
but they are chiefly of those articles that are connected
with navigation. There are here ship-building yards, rope-
works, manufactories of sail-cloth, iron-foundries, forges for
anchors and chain-cables, and steam-engine manufactories ;
besides salt-pans, breweries, brick and tile works, a large
pottery, &c. In the vicinity there are numerous collieries,
furnishing the chief article of trade to the town. North
Shields is connected by railway with Newcastle and Tyne¬
mouth, and by a steam-boat ferry with South Shields. A
county court is held in the town, and there are weekly
markets and annual fairs. The town sprung up in the
time of Edward L, under the protection of the Prior of
Tynemouth; but the jealousy of the people of Newcastle
put a stop to its progress for a long time. Oliver Crom¬
well passed an act for the formation of quays and a market
here ; but many restrictions were imposed upon the trade
till the end of the seventeenth century, when they were
removed, and the prosperity of the place thus greatly in¬
creased. Pop. 8882.
South Shields i's a market-town, parliamentary and mu¬
nicipal borough, in the county of Durham. The older
part consists chiefly of a long, narrow, crooked street, ex¬
tending for about two miles on the low ground by the
river’s side; but on the hills behind there stand many
well-built houses of more modern origin. Near the centre
of the town is a large market-place, in which stands the
neat town-hall, also used as an exchange and news-room.
Below this building is the market-house. The parish
church is ancient, but has been so much repaired and
SHI 115
altered, that little of its original fabric except the tower Shiffnal.
can be traced. There are two other established churches,
and also places of worship belonging to the English Pres¬
byterian Church; the United Presbyterians; Wesleyan,
Primitive, and New Connexion Methodists; Independents;
and Baptists ; several of which sects have more than one
place of worship. To most of them Sunday schools are
attached; and South Shields possesses also national and
charity schools, a& well as numerous benevolent institu¬
tions. Among the latter is a set of comfortable houses
for superannuated master-mariners. Besides the public
buildings already mentioned, the town contains a custom¬
house, theatre, public baths, mechanics’ institute, and sub¬
scription library. None of the buildings, however, are by
any means imposing. The manufactures and trade of the
place constitute its chief importance. Like North Shields,
it manufactures chiefly those articles that are used for ma¬
ritime purposes. There are large docks for ship-building
and repairing, also rope-works, breweries, manufactories of
soda and alum, a pottery, and extensive glass-works. For¬
merly the town was chiefly known for its many salt-pans,
of which there were at one time nearly 150; but this de¬
partment of manufacture is hardly at all pursued at pre¬
sent. In the immediate neighbourhood there are some
coal-pits. The refuse from these, as well as from the
glass-works and salt-pans, has formed numerous hillocks,
some of which have been built upon.. The borough is
governed by a mayor, eight aldermen, and twenty-four coun¬
cillors ; and it returns a member to the House of Commons.
Markets are held every Saturday, and fairs twice a-year.
It appears from an ancient inscription and remains found
here, that there was a Roman station on the site of South
Shields. The present town, however, cannot be traced so
far back, but seems to owe its origin to the fishermen of
the Tyne, who lived in sheds, or sheds, along the water’s
edge. Hence the name of the place. From the fifteenth
to the seventeenth century, it was chiefly remarkable for
its salt-pans; but the modern prosperity of South Shields
is coeval with the extension of the coal trade. The popular
tion of the parliamentary borough in 1851 was 28,974.
The port of Shields, including both the towns, is formed
by the river between them, which is here about two-thirds
as broad as the Thames below London Bridge. Along
both sides there are spacious quays, which, like those in
the port of London, are lined with several tiers of vessels.
The entrance to the harbour is somewhat difficult, as there
is a bar with only 7 feet of water. There are two light¬
houses in North Shields, one 123 and the other 77 feet
high, which lead to the entrance of the port. Inside the
bar the depth increases to 24 feet; and the harbour is large
enough to hold 2000 merchant-vessels, and admits those
of 300 tons close up to the quays. The number of sailing
vessels registered at the port, December 31, 1857, was
967; tonnage, 262,659: of steam-vessels, the number was
130; tonnage, 2936. In the year ending at that date, there
entered 1861 sailing vessels, tonnage 300,538; and 10
steamers, tonnage 1321—in all, 1871 vessels, tonnage
301,859: and there cleared 2187 sailing vessels, tonnage
274,274; and 14 steamers, tonnage 556—in all, 2201 ves¬
sels, tonnage 274,830. The chief trade of the port consists
in the export of coals to London, and other places on the
east coast of England and Scotland. Many of the vessels
belonging to Shields are engaged in the whale-fishery of
Greenland and Davis Straits.
SHIFFNAL, a market-town of England, Shropshire,
17 miles E.S.E. of Shrewsbury, and 135 N.W. by W. of
London. It contains no remarkable building except the
large and handsome parish church, which is in the form of
a cross, with a fine carved roof and some Norman remains.
The other places of worship belong to the Baptists and
Independents. There are also national schools and a
116 SHI
Shikarpoor blue-coat school. Many of the inhabitants are employed
II in the mines and coal-pits in the vicinity, and in a paper
manufactory. Pop. of the parish, 5617.
mnimng. SHIKARPOOR, a town of British India, the most
commercial and probably the most populous in Sinde,
though not the capital of that province, stands in a low flat
region, 20 miles W. of the Indus; N. Lat. 28., E. Long.
68. 39. Its appearance is not attractive, either viewed from
a distance or on a nearer approach; the wall that once en¬
circled it is in ruins, the streets are narrow, and a great
part of the area consists of open spaces. There are no
public buildings of any note; the most conspicuous edifices
being the massive gloomy houses of the rich Hindu mer¬
chants. Near the centre stands the bazaar, 800 yards
long, and covered with a thatched roof, which renders the
atmosphere beneath very close and oppressive. The trade
of the place is very great, as it stands on one of the great
routes from Sinde, through the Bolan Pass to Afghanistan
and Khorasan; on another leading northwards to the
Derajat; and on a third leading to the port of Kurrachee.
It is thus a transit trade that is chiefly carried on here,
including large banking and other monetary transactions.
There are many great capitalists in the town. The popu¬
lation is estimated at 30,000, of whom about 20,000 are
Hindus, and the rest Mohammedans.
SHILLING.. See Coinage.
SHILOH (HW), is a term famous among interpreters
and commentators upon Scripture. It is found (Gen. xlix.
10) to denote the Messiah. The patriarch Jacob foretells
His coming in these words:—“ The sceptre shall not de¬
part from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until
Shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the
people be.” All Christian commentators agree that Shiloh
ought to be understood of the Messiah, or Jesus Christ;
but all are not agreed about its literal and grammatical sig¬
nification. St Jerome, who translates it by Qui mittendus
est, manifestly reads Shiloach, “sent,” instead of Shiloh.
The Septuagint have it, “ Until the coming of him to whom
it is reserved;” or, “ till we see arrive that which is re-
SHIP-BU
To a people whose power is essentially maritime it is not
necessary to use any arguments in proof of the importance
of ship-building. Without pausing to dwell on the various
struggles by which England has maintained her position
amongst nations, it must be seen by all who study her his¬
tory, that it has been by keeping invaders from her shores,
by means of her wooden bulwarks, that she has withstood
the repeated attacks of the powerful nations of the con¬
tinent. And whilst the navy must be looked upon as the
proper means of defence to this sea-girt land, who can visit
the docks of London, Liverpool, the Clyde, or any of her
other commercial ports, and not feel that her very heart’s
strength lies in those forests of masts which bring wealth
to her merchants and manufacturers, and the means of
employment to her artizans, forming, at the same time, a
nursery and a reserve of seamen, who will be ready in the
hour of need to vindicate her claim to pre-eminence on the
ocean ? Who, it may also be asked, can look upon the
changes effected by her instrumentality in all quarters of the
globe, and not own that her winged messengers have, under
God’s blessing, been the means of spreading civilization
and truth through a large portion of the world ?
The love of a sailor’s life, common to all ranks amongst
her sons, owes perhaps its origin to their Norman fore¬
fathers ; but, however begotten, and however fostered, Eng¬
land owes much to it, and to the spirit of adventure which
SHI
served for him.” It must be owned that the signification Shing-
of the Hebrew word Shiloh is not well known. Some King
translate, “ the sceptre shall not depart from Judah, till he II
comes to whom it belongs. Others render it, “ Till the
coming of the peace-maker,” or “ the pacific;” or “ of
yvosTpevtiy” prosperatus est. Others, again, “ till the birth
of him who shall be born of a woman that shall conceive
without the knowledge of a man ;” otherwise, “ the sceptre
shall not depart from Judah till its end, its ruin ; till the
downfall of the kingdom of the Jews.” Some rabbin have
taken the name Siloh or Shiloh, as if it signified the city of
this name in Palestine: “ The sceptre shall not be taken
away from Judah till it comes to Shiloh ; till it shall be
taken from him to be given to Saul at Shiloh.” But in
what part of Scripture is it said that Saul was acknow¬
ledged as king or consecrated at Shiloh ? A more modern
author derives Shiloh from a word which signifies to be
weary, or to suffer; “ till his labours, his sufferings, his
passion, shall happen.”
But it is sufficient to show that the ancient Jews are in
this matter agreed with the Christians. They acknow¬
ledge that this word stands for the Messiah, the King. It
is thus that the paraphrasis Onkelos and Jonathan, that the
ancient Hebrew commentaries upon Genesis, and that the
Talmudists themselves, explain it. The curious reader may
consult Jacobi’s Ailing Schilo, iii. 8, for further informa¬
tion respecting this matter.
SHING-KING, or Leao-Tong, a maritime province of
the Chinese empire, lying to the north of the Yellow Sea,
shut off from China proper on the S.W. by the Great Wall,
and by another fortification from Mongolia, Manchoorie,
and Corea on the N. and E. Area, 25,000 square miles.
It is mountainous, and watered by the Leao, which flows
southwards into the Gulf of Leao- Tong. The east side of
this gulf is formed by a long peninsula called the Regent’s
Sword. The climate is mild and salubrious ; and the soil
produces wheat, barley, pulse, millet, and buckwheat. The
mountains are covered with fine timber. Moukden is the
capital of the province. Pop. 942,043.
IL DIN (J.
it has engendered amongst them. Individual enterprise
has led to national achievements, till the name and power
of Great Britain have been so extended that the sun never
sets upon her possessions.
In an age when science is lending its mighty aid to every
peaceful and warlike art, when mighty armies may be sud¬
denly concentrated by railroads, and a nation’s fate may
hang on the electric wire, England must not trust in the
multitude alone of her ships. Every fresh struggle for
wealth or power proves that it is the amount of mind and
intellect put forth in that struggle, and the amount of
energy, and of means used to effect the end desired, which,
humanly speaking, ensure success ; and, as knowledge is
always increasing, nations or individuals must not rest
upon what has been done, if they desire to keep pace with
the world in its eager rush of advancement and improve¬
ment. With regard to ship-building, not only must in¬
genuity and skill be brought to bear to assist the artisan in
the practical construction of the fabric, but men of science
must lend their aid, and use their powers of investigation,
to assist in designing a complete whole, adapted to meet
the ever-increasing competition for mastership on that ele¬
ment on which not only the welfare of England but of the
whole world seems to hang.
The limits of a treatise of this nature are such that a very
general view only of the many branches of inquiry in-
SHIP-BUILDING.
History, volved in this important subject can be given. It could
not, however, be considered complete without a short out¬
line of the rise and progress of the art, or without some re¬
ference to the authors from whose works further information
may be obtained. It is always interesting and instructive
in every art to trace the various stages it has gone through
before arriving at its existing state. The retrospect of the
art of ship-building shows that there has been no standing
still in its course without corresponding injury to the pros¬
perity and power of the nation which has neglected it, and
that there must be no relaxation of exertion to meet the
demands of a commercial and warlike people.
RISE AND PROGRESS OF NAVAL ARCHITECTURE.
In tracing the progress of naval architecture among the
nations of antiquity, in order to connect it with its advance
in more modern times, the chronological divisions adopted
by that indefatigable investigator, Charnock, in his valuable
History of Marine Architecture, present a very succinct
idea of the probable rise, progress, decline, and revival of
the art, and therefore offer a valuable guide for investiga¬
tion. It would not be consistent with the purpose of this
article to enter into the detail that would be necessary to
ascertain the state of naval architecture during the periods
embraced in each of the sections he has assigned to this
subject. Some few facts only will be collected from various
authors in illustration of the probable size and nature of the
shipping of the ancient world, with an outline of what little
is known of the rude vessels which, during the darkness of
the middle ages, bore the marauders of the northern nations
on their predatory excursions. Charnock divides maritime
history into seven sections. The first comprehends the
time previous to the foundation of Rome, until which he
considers that all history is founded on surmise. The
second section comprises a period somewhat less obscure,
in which the collateral testimony of various authors may be
examined and compared; and therefore there certainly
appears less difficulty in ascertaining facts. It extends
from the foundation of Rome to the destruction of her rival,
Carthage. The termination ef the third is at the conver¬
sion of the Republic into an empire. The death of Charle¬
magne ends the fourth epoch. The fifth extends from this
period to the discovery of the mariner’s compass. The
sixth ends with the discovery of cannon, and with their
adaptation to naval warfare commences the seventh epoch.
The Ark. ^ he first vessel of which we have any description is the
ark as built by Noah under the directions of the Almighty.
Its proportions possess some interest, because, though not
intended for a voyage, it may be inferred that it was con¬
structed to float with as little motion as possible, consider¬
ing that it “went upon the face of the waters” for about
five months. It was no doubt exposed to the action of the
winds and waves during that’ period, for before it rested
“a wind was made to pass on the earth, and the waters
asswaged.” Assuming a cubit to be about 18 inches of
our measure, its length was about 450 feet, its breadth
about 75 feet, and its depth about 45 feet, with an arch or
round-up of the upper deck of about 18 inches. Its
draught of water must have varied greatly during the
period of its occupation, as twelve months’ provisions must
have formed a very large proportion of the original weight,
and these must have been gradually consumed. Its length
is thus seen to have been six times its breadth, and it is per¬
haps curious that ship-builders should not sooner have given
this, or a greater proportion of length to their vessels ;
seeing that these were intended for locomotion, with as much
speed as possible, and consequently that an increase of length
must have been proportionally advantageous to them, by
giving them a finer form. The remembrance of this huge
vessel, or floating house, would remain long on the minds
of Noah’s posterity ; but it was not likely to influence them History,
in the construction of petty floating vessels, to meet any of v-»- v-» -
their limited requirements. Wickerwork frames of rushes,
or reeds, or of the rind of the papyrus, smeared with mud
or pitch, similar to the ark in which Moses was exposed,
appear to have been at a very early age brought into use,
and basketw'ork, covered with skin, has continued in con¬
stant use among many nations, even up to the present
time. They are still in use in some parts of this and other
countries under the name of coracles. Canoes, formed out
of the trunk of a tree, require tools or implements for their
construction, and were, therefore, no doubt of later intro¬
duction.
As early authentic records on the subject of ship-build- Vessels of
ing, the paintings and sculptures of Upper and Lower Ancient
Egypt may be referred to. These show regularly formed
boats, constructed of sawn planks of timber, propelled by
numerous rowers, and also by sails. Some are represented
as formed With inclined planes, forward and aft in the same
manner as the barges on the Thames, and in this respect
are more correct in theory and in reality as to ease of pro¬
pulsion than many canal-boats of the present day, con¬
structed of a wedge-like form. The Hebrews in the time
of Solomon must have possessed vessels of considerable
size, as mention is made, in the sacred writings of that date,
of “ stately ships” and of voyages made to bring trees of
considerable size to be used in the building of the temple.
In addition to the trade in the Mediterranean from Joppa
and Tarshisb, it is also recorded that Solomon despatched a
navy of ships from the Red Sea to fetch gold from Ophir,
the position of which, though disputed, was probably on
the east coast of Africa.
The Phoenicians were connected with the Hebrews in Phoenician
their maritime expeditions, and this people appear to have shipping,
been the most enterprizing in navigation of all the nations
of antiquity. There can be no doubt from the accounts
given by that most pains-taking and careful historian, Herodo¬
tus, that an expedition fitted out by this people sailed round
the Cape of Good Hope. They started from the Red Sea,
and after passing Ophir, if situated, as previously supposed,
on the east coast of Africa, and to which they were in the
habit of trading, they rounded the Cape, and keeping by
the shore they entered the Mediterranean through the pillars
of Hercules, or Straits of Gibraltar, and arrived in Egypt in
the third year of their expedition. Vessels capable of per¬
forming such a voyage must have been of considerable
size. The Phoenicians were also engaged, in concert with Grecian
other nations, in wats with the Greeks; and it was from shipping,
them that the latter nation learned in their wars what they
knew of ships and of navigation. Amongst the Grecian
states, the Corinthians appear to have most distinguished
themselves by improving the forms of the galleys, and in¬
creasing their size. The people of Tuscany and the Car¬
thaginians also became important maritime powers about
this time.
The Romans in the earlier stage of their history paid Roman
little attention to navigation, until it was forced upon them shipping,
by the necessity of competing with their great rivals the
Carthagenians. The galleys of this period ranged from a
single bark up to the quinquireme of five banks of oars.
The oars in these large galleys being arranged in sets or
banks, the number of these could be increased to any
extent by giving additional length to the galley. The
trireme, or three-banked galley, appears to have been gene¬
rally open in the middle where the rowers sat, with decks
or platforms at both ends for the soldiers; but this was not
always the case, as in the representation of a trireme found at
Pompeii, it is decked over for its whole length, and with a
house or inclosed space at the stern. The galleys of
greater size than the triremes appear to have been always
decked-vessels, and the upper or fourth and fifth oars of
118
SHIP-BUILDING.
History.
Classes of
Roman
shipping.
Oak first
used in
ship-build¬
ing.
Copper.
Caulking.
Exhuma¬
tion of a
Roman
vessel.
Royal So¬
ciety of
Northern
Antiqua¬
rians.
each bank were probably pulled from the deck, in the same
manner as the long oars of the present day, called sweeps,
while the three lower oars were pulled through port-holes
by men seated below the deck.
The chief information on the vessels of this period is
gathered from the accounts of naval expeditions and en¬
gagements as recorded in the histories of the Peloponne¬
sian war by Thucidydes ; the wars of Alexander the Great,
especially the siege of Tyre, by Curtius and Arrian; the
battle between Demetrius and Ptolemy, by Diodorus Sicu¬
lus; the? first Punic war, by Polybius, in which a very minute
account is given of the engagement between the Romans
and the Carthaginians; and of the battle of Actium, by
Dionysius Cassius. Caesar, in his Commentaries, also gives
an account of the vessels used in the invasion of Britain,
which seem to have been of greater draught of water than
common at that period, as he considers it worthy of record¬
ing, that the men on disembarking were breast-high in the
water, and that at last the galleys were ordered in between
these larger vessels and the shore, to protect the disem¬
barkation.
The Roman ships were divided into three classes : the
naves longce, or ships of war ; the naves onerarice, or ships
of burthen ; and the naves liburnce, which were ships built
expressly for great velocity, and may be supposed to have
been used as despatch-boats, and for making passages with
important personages. There is repeated evidence to prove
that these vessels were invariably built of pine, cedar, or
other light woods, excepting about the bows, which were of
oak, strongly clamped and strengthened with iron or brass,
in order to withstand the shock of opposing vessels ; the
tactics being comprised in the attempt to sink or damage
the enemy’s vessel, by violently propelling this armed bow
against the weaker broadside of the enemy, or else endea¬
vouring to break and cripple the oars. Oak was first ap¬
plied to ship-building by the Veneti, on the testimony
of Caesar in his treatise De Bello Gallico, lib. iii. cap. 13.
Copper or brass was introduced for fastenings, in conse¬
quence of the quick corrosion of the iron, about the time
of Nero. This is stated on the authority of Vegetius, and
also of Athenaeus ; and Pliny mentions that flax was used
for the purpose of caulking the seams of the plank.
The following quotation is from Locke’s History of Navi¬
gation “ Sheathing of ships is a thing in appearance so
absolutely new, that scarce any will doubt to assert it alto¬
gether a modern invention ; yet how vain this notion is, will
soon appear. Leo Baptisti Alberti, in his book of Archi¬
tecture (lib. v. cap. 12), has these words: But Trajan’s ship
weighed out of the lake of Riccia at this time, while I was
compiling this work, where it had lain, sunk and neglected,
for above 1300 years ; I observed that the pine and cypress
of it had lasted most remarkably. On the outside it was
built with double planks, daubed over with Greek pitch,
caulked with linen rags; and over all a sheet of lead
fastened on with little copper nails. Raphael Volaterranus,
in his Geography, says this ship was weighed by the order
of Cardinal Prospero Colonna. Here we have caulking
and sheathing together above 1600 years ago; for I sup¬
pose no man can doubt that the sheet of lead nailed over
the outside with copper nails was sheathing, and that in
great perfection, the copper nails being used rather than
iron, which, when once rusted in the water, with the work¬
ing of the ship, soon lose their hold and drop out.”
During the dark ages which followed the downfall of
Rome, little progress was made in navigation, and but little
is known of the vessels in which the northern hordes made
their predatory and conquering excursions.
The investigations of the Royal Society of Northern
Antiquarians at Copenhagen have thrown considerable light
on the subject of this early navigation, and of the discoveries
of the Scandinavians in the west; and it cannot be sup¬
posed that it was in coracles that frequent voyages were History,
made to Newfoundland, and colonies established there,
which it appears proved were in existence as early as
the tenth century. But to recur to the description given
by Caesar of the ships of the Gaulish Veneti. “ Their Gaulisji
bottoms were somewhat flatter than ours, their prows were Veneti-
very high and erect, as likewise their sterns, to bear the
hugeness of the billows and the violence of the tempests.
•The body of the vessel was entirely of oak. The benches
of the rowers were made of strong beams about a foot in
breadth, and fastened with iron nails an inch thick. In¬
stead of cables, they secured their anchors with chains of
iron; and made use of skins and a sort of thin pliant leather,
by way of sails, probably because they imagined that
canvas sails were not so proper to bear the violence of
tempests, the rage and,fury of the winds, and to govern
ships of that bulk and burthen Neither could our
ships injure them with their beaks, so great was their
strength and firmness, nor could we easily throw our darts,
because of their height above us, which also was the reason
that we found it extremely difficult to grapple the enemy
and bring him to close fight.” And again, speaking of the
manner in which these ships were eventually taken posses¬
sion of: “ They,” the Romans, “ had provided themselves
with long poles, armed with long scythes; with these they
laid hold of the enemies’ tackle, and drawing off the galley
by the extreme force of oars, cut asunder the ropes that
fastened the sailyards to the masts ; these giving way, the
sailyards came down, insomuch that, as all the hopes and
expectations of the Gauls depended entirely on their sails
and rigging, by depriving them of this resource, we at the
same time rendered their vessels wholly unserviceable.”
The account proceeds to state, that many attempted to
escape from this unforeseen means of aggression ; but that
the wind falling, and a perfect calm coming on, they were
obliged to remain inactive on the water, and were taken
possession of, one after the other, by the simultaneous at¬
tack of several Roman galleys. It would appear from this
that they were vessels only intended for sailing, and that,
since oars were used, from the mention made of seats for
the rowers, they could have been as very partial accessories
to the sails, or probably even only for steering. Another
fact is mentioned by Caesar, that the Veneti sailed from
their port to meet the Roman fleet, and several of the
vessels escaped to their port from the fleet. This, though
not conclusive of the fact of sailing on a wind, is worthy of
notice.
It is probable that it was ships such as these which brought Hengist
Hengist and Horsa to England about the middle of the fifth an(i Korsa
century, since it is recorded that their force, which con¬
sisted of 1500 men, found accommodation in only three ves¬
sels. It is hardly to be imagined that the coracles, or skin-
boats of the northern nations, were ever of sufficient dimen¬
sions to accommodate a force of 500 men, with arms and
means of active aggression.
The earlier irruptions of the northern barbarians into Rise of
Italy had desolated the Roman province of Venetia, and Venice,
driven a remnant of its inhabitants to the refuge afforded
by the small marshy islands at the extremity of the Adri¬
atic. There they are described by Cassiodorus, who assimi¬
lates them to water-fowl, as subsisting on fish, and steeped
in poverty, their only manufacture and their only com¬
merce being salt. From such humble beginnings arose
the state destined to connect the old world with the new,
and to lead the van of modern commercial and maritime
enterprise. The mercantile prosperity of Venice diffused
its influence throughout the shores of the Mediterranean,
which thus became once again the nursery of civilization.
For many centuries Venice was the great school of the arts
connected with navigation, and her shipwrights and seamen
were long the most instructed in Europe. While the north-
SHIP-BUILDING.
119
History, ern seas were navigated by the Scandinavian sea-kings, in
^ their rude and frail boats, in quest of plunder or of a home,
ships floated on the waters of the Mediterranean bearing
the banner of St Mark, which, it is said, were, even as early
as the tenth century, of the burthen of 1200 up to 2000
tons. The vessels, however, generally adopted by the Me¬
diterranean states were either copies or modifications of
the ancient galley.
Mediterra- ]t js a fact; worth notice, that while the continuation of the
nean gal- use 0f ^jg Species 0f vessel in the comparatively tranquil
le^' waters of the Mediterranean fostered the arts of commerce
and navigation, its introduction into the northern seas, to
which it was ill adapted, appears to have checked, in a most
remarkable degree, the maritime enterprise which had
hitherto so characterized the population of their coasts. It
is even probable that the barrier thus opposed to commerce
entailed on the states of Northern and Western Europe
centuries of comparative barbarism.
Alfred. Alfred was the first ruler of England who clearly under¬
stood that the policy of Britain was rather to prevent than
to resist invasion; and the bygoce history of his country
told him plainly that its military strength was not only
insufficient to awe invaders from its shores, but that all the
military resources at his command were inadequate to pre¬
serve the liberties of his people. He therefore turned the
energies of his mighty mind to the task of creating a naval
force, which should be more powerful than that of his
untiring persecutors the Danes. In this he succeeded ;
and at length, under the protection of the fleets which his
genius had created, he was enabled to establish that frame¬
work of internal policy and government, from the wisdom
of which England has even to this day benefited. It is
historically certain that Alfred himself superintended the
formation of his fleet, and that he gave the design of vessels
to be superior to those of the Danes.
His ships. These vessels were galleys, generally rowed with forty
oars, some even with sixty, on each side; and they were
twice as long, deeper, nimbler, and less “ wavy” or rolling,
than the ships of the Danes. The information on this
subject is obtained by Selden from a Saxon chronicle of
the time of Alfred, which is in the Cottonian Library.
Reasons for It should be remembered, that when Alfred thus intro-
iucUontr°* ^ucet^ t^ie Mediterranean galley into these northern seas,
his object was not so much to form a vessel adapted for the
purpose of navigating those seas, as to obtain one which
would afford space for a large force of fighting men. For
this the galley was admirably qualified; and indeed it main¬
tained its place as the appropriate ship for the purposes of
war until the invention of cannon rendered other arrange¬
ments necessary.
Their sue- The immunity which it insured from the attacks of the
ess. Danish marauders caused its general adoption along the
coasts hitherto open to their incursions, on all of which it
thus superseded the sailing vessels that have been already
described; and voyages which, until its introduction, were
boldly and successfully achieved, became of rare occurrence
and of hazardous issue during the subsequent ages, until
the galleys once again gave place to sailing vessels. It also
gradually checked the enterprise of the Northmen, by the
curb which it placed upon their successes.
saxon rule. It is not proposed to give more than a slight sketch of
the naval history of Britain through the line of her Saxon
princes; for little data can be found on which to base
any speculation even, as to the progress of naval architec¬
ture during these ages. The galley of the Mediterranean
continued to be used for the defence of the coasts ; and the
policy of Alfred appears to have been well understood by
many of his successors—that England only enjoyed peace
from invasion when her fleets were powerful enough to
repel it from her shores. It is also to be inferred that the
use of sailing vessels was not wholly abandoned; for in the
reign of Athelstan, the third in descent from Alfred, as History,
recorded by Hackluyt, it was decreed, that “ if a marchant ^
so thrived, that he passed thrise over the wide seas of his
owne crafte, he was thenceforth a Thein’s right worthie.”
This establishes two rather interesting facts: one is, that Mercantile-
at so early a period there were merchants of importance shipping. „
enough to engage in such a traffic; and the other is, that
from the richness of the reward held out to successful enter¬
prise, the difficulty of the task assigned must have been esti¬
mated as great. It may be assumed that these long voyages
were made in ships more adapted for the purpose than galleys;
in fact, in the vessels which the galleys had been intended
to supersede. But the spirit of maritime enterprise had, as Decline of
before observed, evidently received a check, since one of the naval en-
highest rewards in the power of the monarch to bestow was terPri8e-
held out to the merchant as an incitement to an adventure,
which the vague hope of plunder wmuld alone have been
sufficient to induce that merchant’s progenitors to attempt
and successfully perform. However, it is probable that at
no time was the art of navigating vessels, which depended
principally, although perhaps not wholly, upon their sails,
lost in the northern seas. Gibbon says, that at the early
crusades the vessels of the “ Northmanni et Gothi” (the
Norwegians and Danes) differed from those of the other
powers, among all of whom the ships partook of the charac¬
ter of the Mediterranean galley. These northern crusaders
are described by him as navigating “ navibus rotundis—that
is to say, ships infinitely shorter in proportion to their length
than galleys.” This was not later than the beginning of
the twelfth century, and therefore not so far removed from
the periods in question as to render the inference proposed
to be deduced from it erroneous, particularly when referring
to times of such slow improvement as the middle ages.
The “ mighty” fleets maintained by Edgar afford no in- Edgar,
formation on the subject of this article, excepting that the
facts connected with that monarch’s annual circumnaviga¬
tion of his territories prove them to have consisted of row-
galleys. They must, however, have formed comparatively
a “ mighty” fleet; for, from a grant of land made by Edgar
to Worcester cathedral, it is found that he assumed to him¬
self the title of “ Supreme Lord and Governor of the Ocean
lying round about Britain.” That they were but of slight
construction may be inferred from the low state of the navy
so shortly after the death of Edgar as the reign of Ethelred, Ethelred.
who, in order to re-establish it, instituted a regular tax for
providing and maintaining a navy. It was enacted, accord¬
ing to Selden, that whoever possessed “310 hides of land
was charged with the building of one ship or galley; and
owners of more or less hides, or part of one hide, were
rated proportionally”—the hide being, according to the
best authorities, as much ground as a man could turn up
with one plough in a year. But this tax appears to have
been inadequate to the purpose of providing a sufficient
fleet, for all the exertions of Ethelred could not preserve
Britain from again being ravaged by the Danes, and, after
the short reign of his son Edmund Ironsides, England was
ruled by Danish monarchs. From the known talent ofCanute’
Canute, the first of these princes, and from the crowns of
Denmark, Norway, and Britain being united in his person, it
may be presumed that the naval affairs of England were not
suffered to retrograde. There is, indeed, a record of their
advance during this second Danish rule. It may also be
inferred from the present which was made by Earl Godwin
to Flardicanute, the third Danish sovereign, of a galley,
sumptuously gilt, and rowed by fourscore men, each of
whom wore on his arm a bracelet of gold weighing sixteen
ounces ; not that the mere gorgeousness of the gift would
prove any advance in the art of ship-building, but it may
be supposed, from its nature, that naval affairs found
favour in the sight of this monarch. Of this there is also
other historical evidence, as Hardicanute raised L.11,048,
120
SHIP-BUILDING.
the probable size and nature of the vessels used may be History,
drawn. When Prince William, son to Henry L, was
drowned, by the loss of the vessel in which he was cross¬
ing from France to England, it is recorded that 300 souls
perished with him. As of this number a large portion, his¬
torians say 140, were men of rank, and as there were many
ladies, since the prince was accompanied by his sister, the
vessel must have been of considerable burthen. A similar
event, namely, a shipwreck, that occurred during the reign
of Henry II., by which nearly the same number of persons
perished, tends to prove that such was about the extent of
the accommodation afforded by the shipping of this period.
Galleys still continued to be used for the purposes of war;
but as commerce began to be extended, it became neces¬
sary to recur to the use of sails, and they were therefore
gradually recovering their importance, and superseding
oars. Indeed, it is difficult to conceive commerce to be
profitably engaged in when attended with the immense
expense of the crews necessary to propel the larger galleys.
This must have had an important influence in the improve- State of
ment of navigation and of naval architecture, for the com- trade-
mercial intercourse between the portions of the empire on
either side of the channel must have been considerable.
There is constant reference in the early chronicles to the
great extent of the wine trade, and of the commerce in wool
and woollen cloths.
The introduction of vessels propelled by sails for the pur¬
poses of commerce would necessarily cause a change in the
constitution of the fleets assembled for the services of war ;
and this will be found to have been the case.
The expedition of Richard Cceur de Lion, in 1190, to Richard
join the crusade to the Holy Land, consisted of nine ships, Cceur de
which are described as being of extraordinary size, 150 br¬
others of inferior dimensions, and only 38 galleys. After
the reduction of Cyprus, and the addition of the vessels
captured there, with others which he had hired at Mar¬
seilles and in Sicily, his armament consisted of 254 “ tall
shippes, and about three score galliots.” The increase was,
therefore, almost wholly in the ships. This, together with
the recorded fact, that he captured a Saracenic vessel of
such size as to be capable of containing 1500 Saracens, and
a large quantity of military stores, destined for the relief of
Achon, tends to prove that the progress of naval architec¬
ture, under the influence of the commercial powers of the
Mediterranean, had been more rapid than in these northern
seas, where the commerce was much more confined in its
nature, and the nations bordering on which were in con¬
stant warfare with each other.
The Norman monarchs appear to have been very tena- Sovereign-
cious of their claim to the sovereignty of the narrow seas; ty of the
and not only their claim, but their power to maintain their seas’
right, is admitted by the French historians. The Pere
Daniel sanctions the claim of Henry II. to this sovereignty.
In the reign of John the fleets of England were of such John,
importance that the claim was extended; for it was then
enacted, that if the masters of foreign ships should refuse
to strike their colours, and thus pay homage to the English
flag, such ships should be considered as lawful prizes. This
monarch most carefully fostered the naval power of Eng¬
land ; and it is in the records of the thirteenth year of this
reign that mention is first made of any public naval estab¬
lishment. There is in the close rolls, published by the Early ori-
Record Commission, an order, which is dated the 29th ofg,nof
May 1212, from the king to the sheriff of the county of^®^®*
Southampton, in which he is directed without delay to cause dockyard.
the king’s docks at Portsmouth to be enclosed by a good
and strong wall, in order to protect the king’s galleys and
ship’s; and also to build storehouses against this wall, for
the preservation of the fittings and equipment of the said
vessels; all of which works are to be performed under the
direction of William, archdeacon of Taunton, and the
Norman
conquest.
History, in the first two years of his reign, for the purpose of build-
ing thirty-two ships; and the taxes he levied for the support
of his navy were so grievous that, Florentius says, scarcely
any man was able to pay them.
The marine of England seems to have been maintained
on a comparatively powerful footing up to the period of the
Norman conquest; and from the naval resources at the
command of Harold the Saxon, in comparison with the in¬
significance of the shipping which brought William and his
Normans across the channel, there can be no doubt that
had Harold relied upon his naval strength, the conquest of
England would never have been achieved; but, by some
fatality, his fleet, which had been long stationed off the Isle
of Wight, was dispersed, in consequence of a report that
William had abandoned his enterprise.
The flotilla of William the Conqueror is variously stated ;
by some at 900, by others at 3000 vessels. Either num¬
ber proves their insignificance, as the invading force con¬
sisted of about 60,000 troops, which would give in the one
case about 66 men to each vessel, in the other 20 men
only (figs. 1 and 2).
Fleet of
William
Fig. 1.
The conquest of England being completed, the shores
on either side of the narrow seas between England and
Fig. 2.
Normandy were under the same rule. William, therefore,
claimed sovereignty over them, which right was maintained
by his successors. There can be no doubt that the con¬
stant intercourse between the two portions of the empire,
which continued throughout the Norman sway, and indeed
for a period of upwards of three centuries, must have done
much towards fostering a maritime spirit among the popu¬
lation of England, and accustoming it to consider that fame
and fortune were the rewards of nautical adventure.
Probable There is but slight evidence as to the state of naval
size of architecture during the early period subsequent to the Con-
ships. quest. There are a few facts scattered among the records
of these times, from which some vague conclusions as to
SHIP-BUILDING.
121
History, greatest diligence is to be used, in order that the whole may
be completed during the summer.
Edward I. The naval power of England appears to have continued
sufficient to maintain the sovereignty assumed by John.
For the occurrence of predatory excursions by some Genoese,
during the reign of Edward I., caused all the nations of
Europe, bordering on the sea, to appeal to the kings of
England, whom they acknowledged to be in peaceable pos¬
session of the “ Sovereign Lordship and Dominion of the
Seas of England, and Islands of the samewhich proves
that their claim was generally acknowledged. This docu¬
ment, Evelyn says, was still extant in his time, in the
archives of the Tower. The right to the absolute sove¬
reignty of the seas was maintained up to the reign of James
I. Queen Elizabeth insisted on and maintained her power
to refuse or grant passage through the narrow seas, accord¬
ing to her pleasure. In 1634 Charles I. asserted his right
to their sovereignty; and in 1654 the Dutch were com¬
pelled, after a severe struggle, to submit to it, and consent
to “ strike their flags and lower their top-sails on meeting
any ship of the English navy on the British seaswhich
homage the commanders of English men-of-war were in¬
structed to exact from all foreign vessels until so lately as
the close of the last war, when it was judiciously aban¬
doned, for the following reasons, as given by Sir John
Barrow. In his Life of Howe, with reference to Trafalgar,
he says, u That battle, moreover, having so completely
humbled the naval powers of France and Spain, suggested
to the consideration of the Board of Admiralty, with the
approbation of the government, the omission of that arbi¬
trary and offensive article which required naval officers to
demand the striking of the flag and lowering of the top-sail
from every foreign ship they might fall in with. That in¬
vidious assumption of a right, though submitted to generally
by foreigners for some centuries, could not probably have
been maintained much longer, except at the cannon’s
mouth; and it was considered, therefore, that the proper
time had come when it might, both morally and politically,
be spontaneously abandoned.”
It is generally supposed that ships intended only for sail¬
ing were first built by the Genoese, and that not until the
beginning of the fourteenth century. It is perhaps more
probable, that in the Mediterranean they date from an earlier
period than this; and that although the general adoption
of the galley in Western Europe had much checked the
art of navigation by means of sails, it had never been wholly
lost, but that sailing vessels, though probably very few in
number, and imperfect in rig, had been constantly in use.
To judge from the few hints handed down to us by history,
they were probably luggers, and were adopted for mercan¬
tile purposes along the coast of the Channel and the Bay of
Biscay. In the north of Europe sails had never been dis¬
continued, although the more warlike galleys of England
and France had gradually prevented the incursions of the
northern nations into these more southern seas. The be¬
ginning of the fourteenth century is, however, decidedly
an epoch in the histories both of navigation and of naval
ai chitecture, and from it may be dated the progress of
navigation by means of sails. It is generally supposed
that the “large ships” mentioned in the enumeration of
the fleets of this period, were ships built only for sailing,
and intended for those long voyages which the invention
of the compass by Flavio Gioio, a Neapolitan, about the year
1^00, had rendered of comparatively easy performance.
ariners It has been surmised that the compass was brought to
mpass. Europe from the East about forty years previous to this
date, by Paulus Venetus. It is certain that the Portuguese
ound the knowledge of the magnetic needle generally and
^ong diffused among the eastern navies. Evelyn says, that
it was,^ near eighty years after its discovery, unknown in
Britain.” This is not improbable, for there does not re-
vol. xx.
main much record of maritime affairs in the interval be- History,
tween the reigns of John and Edward III. This monarch’s
reign was, after a most severe struggle with France for Edward
supremacy on the seas, the era of a series of naval triumphs, III.
and both navigation and naval architecture made most
decided advances.
In an engagement which took place in 1340, the French Naval
force amounted to 400 vessels, of which 120 were “ large
ships,” these being principally Genoese mercenaries. Ed¬
ward III. commanded the English fleet in person, which
consisted of but 260 sail. The French are variously re¬
ported to have lost 20>000 and 30,000 men, and 200 vessels
are said to have been captured. The loss to the English
was only 4000 men. Two facts are ’elicited by the ac¬
counts of this engagement; one is, that there is no mention
of galleys as forming any part of the fleets ; the other is, that
in the James of Dieppe, which was captured by the Earl of
Huntingdon, 400 persons were found slain; consequently
the size of the vessel must have been very considerable.
In 1344 Edward summoned commissioners from all the Royal fleet,
ports, to meet in the metropolis, provided with the state of
their “ navies.” The roll of this fleet is inserted in the first
volume of Hackluyt, from a copy in the Cottonian Library.
I be total numbers were 710 ships, and 14,151 mariners ;
and there were 38 foreign ships, with 815 mariners. From
this roll it will be seen that galleys had ceased to be used
by England, either in her wars or in her commerce, as
neither among the king’s ships nor among those furnished
by merchants is there any mention of them. This fleet
was that engaged in the celebrated siege of Calais, and it Use of can-
was probably at this time that cannon were first employed non-
by the English. Camden, in his Remains, says, “ Certain
it is, that King Edward III. used them at the siege of
Calais in 1347.”
Although from the fact of there being a royal dock-yard Sizes of
at Portsmouth so early as the reign of John, it is probable Edward’s
that the kings of England were possessed of a navy almost slliP8-
from the conquest; yet this roll of Edward’s fleet contains
the first enumeration of ships belonging to the sovereign,
and employed in the service of the state, which occurs in
English history ; and consequently it is from the reign of
Edward III. that the formation of a royal navy must be
dated. The king’s ships were 25 in number, and were
manned by 419 mariners. It appears that the vessels be¬
longing to the sovereign were inferior in force to many
of those which were supplied by subjects ; for the average
number of the crews of the king’s ships were 17 men to
each vessel, while the average of the fleet was rather above
20. Of course these numbers only include the mariners
employed in navigating the vessels, and not the soldiers
to be afterwards embarked on board them. Considering
the simplicity of the rig of these ships, in comparison to
the wilderness of canvas and cordage covering the tall
masts of a modern merchantman, there is more reason to
be astonished at the large number of hands employed, than
at the smallness of the averages, 17 and 20; There is
good reason to suppose that the addition of the bowsprit
to the rig of ships dates no farther back than late in the
reign of Edward III., which is alone quite sufficient to
prove the very imperfect state of the navigation at that
period, and also to excite astonishment that,, with such ap¬
parently inadequate means, so much was effected; lor
history would almost lead us to suppose that, for all the pur¬
poses of war and commerce, fleets as proudly or as in¬
dustriously ploughed the main then as now, “ with all
appliances and means to boot.”
In the year 1381, the fourth of the reign of Richard II., Richard
the first navigation act was passed in England, for the en- n*
couragement of the naval interest and the augmentation 0f First navi-
our maritime power, by discountenancing the employment satlon
It enacted, “ That for increasing the
of foreign shipping.
122
History.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Royal ships
hired by
merchants.
Henry IV.
Letter to
Henry V.
Libel of
English
1‘olicie.
shipping of England, of late much diminished, none of the
king’s subjects shall hereafter ship any kind of merchandize,
either outward or homeward, but only in ships of the king s
subjects, on forfeiture of ships and merchandize, in which
ships also the greater part of the crews shall be of the king s
subjects.” This act was not, however, enforced, permis¬
sion being given to hire foreign shipping when there were
no English ships in readiness.
It has been remarked above, that the royal navy of Eng¬
land must date from the reign of Edward III. There is
proof that it continued to be customary for the sovereign to
possess ships; they were, however, used both for war and
commerce. This practice, which does not at all militate
against the existence of a royal navy, appears to have
commenced when “ large ships” were substituted for the
galleys as vessels for war ; and it long continued to be usual
for merchants to hire shipping from the sovereign for com¬
mercial voyages. The proceedings of the privy council,
which have been printed by the Record Commission, show
that in June of the year 1400, Henry IV. ordered his “ new
ship,” together with such others as were in the port of
London, to proceed against the enemy. There is also a
letter in the Cottonian Library, which has been printed in
Ellis’s Collection of Letters, from John Alcetre to King
Henry V., concerning a ship building for that monarch at
Bayonne. The letter is of the date of 1419 ; and as it
contains more minute details than might be expected to
have descended to us from such an early period, we give
the following extract:—“ At the makyng of this letter yt
was in this estate, that ys, to wetyng xxxvj. strakys in hyth
y bordyd, on the weche strakys hyth y layde xj. bemys;
the mast beme ys yn leynthe xlvj. comyn fete, and the beme
of the hameron afore ys in leynthe xxxix. fete, and the beme
of the hameron by hynde is in leynthe xxxiij. fete ; fro the
onemost ende of the stemme in to the post by hynde ys in
leynthe a hondryd iij*x- and vj. fete ; and the stemme ys in
hithe iiijxx- and xvj. fete; and the post xlviij. fete; and the
kele y in leynthe a hondryd and xij. fete ; but he is y rotyt,
and must be chaungyd.” . .
We have also evidence of the existence of ships which
belonged to the monarch, in contradistinction to ships which
belonged to the 44 commons,” in the quaint rhymes of an
anonymous author of the year 1433, which have been
preserved by Hackluyt, termed The Prologue of the pro-
cesse of the Libel of English policie, exhorting all England
to keepe the sea, and namely, the narrowe sea, showing
what profile commeth thereof, and also what worship and
saluation to England, and to all Englishmen.
“ And if I should conclude all by the king
Henrie the Fift, what was his purposing,
Whan at Hampton he made the great dromons,
Which passed other great ships of all the commons ;
The Trinitie, the Grace de Dieu, Holy Ghost,
And other moe, which as nowe bee lost.
What hope ye was the king’s great intent
Of thoo shippes, and what in minde bee meant:
It was not ellis ; but that hee cast to he
Lorde round about environ of the sea.’
other to 1000 butts. So energetical was Henry V. in all History,
things relating to his navy, and the consequent increase in ^
the number of the royal ships during his reign was so great,
as to have led to the error that before his time the sove¬
reigns of England were not possessed of vessels, but relied
whollv upon the aid to be gathered from the diffeient ports
of England, or to be hired from foreigners. This is evi¬
dently incorrect.
On the death of Henry V. a different line of policy ap- Neglect of
pears to have been adopted; for in May 1423 the kings the navy,
ships were all sold at Southampton, under a restriction that
no foreigner could be a purchaser of them. But it appears
that a long period did not elapse before the depressed state
of the naval resources of the kingdom, consequent on this
injudicious measure, attracted the attention of parliament.
The following interesting quotation from the preface of the
fifth volume of the Proceedings of the Privy Council, printed
by the Record Commission, refers to this event:—“In
1443 the attention of parliament was directed to this im¬
portant part of the national defence (the naval force), and a
highly curious ordinance was made tor the safeguard of the
sea. From February to November eight ships with fore¬
stages, or, as they were sometimes called then, as now,
forecastles, armed with 150 men each, were to be constantly
at sea. Every large ship was to be attended by a barge
of 80 men, and a balinger of 40 men. There were also to
be 4 awaiting and attendant upon them’four‘spynes’ or
4 spinaces/.with 25 men each. The whole number of men
in these 24 ships was 2240.”
There is also in the same preface an account of the va¬
rious kinds of ships which formed the navies of this period,
a part of which we shall quote, and by the addition of some
further information of the same nature, derived from Frois¬
sart, Monstrelet, and other sources, the reader will be en¬
abled to form a tolerably correct opinion as to the state of
naval architecture in England previous to and during the
fifteenth century.
Ships. 44 The burthen of the largest ships at that period Ships,
probably did not exceed 600 tons, though some of them
were certainly very large,” as, for instance, the vessel built
at Bayonne for Henry V., already mentioned. “ One
which belonged to Hull was released from arrest” (she
having been pressed into the king’s service), 44 because she
drew so much water that she could not approach within two
miles of the coast of Guienne, where the Duke of Somer¬
set’s army intended to disembark;” and several notices
occur of ships of300 and 400 tons and upwards. Some had
three and others only two masts, with short topmasts, and a
44 forestage ” or 44 forecastle,” consisting of a raised platform
or stage, which obtained the name of castle from its con¬
taining soldiers, and probably from its having bulwarks. In
this part of the ship it appears business was transacted;
and in the reign of Edward III., if not afterwards, ships had
sometimes one of these stages at each end, as ships 44 ove
chastiel devant et derere‘y are then spoken of. Lydgate,
describing the fleet with which King Henry V. went to
France after the battle of Agincourt, says.
The term dromond is the corruption of a Levantine teim,
dromones, imported probably by the crusaders. The dro¬
monds were long row-galleys, but the adopted term dro¬
mond was applied generally to all large ships.
Henry’s There is a list of Henry’s vessels in the fourth year of his
fleet. reign preserved in the proceedings of the privy council.
His navy then consisted of three 44 large ships,” or 44 grands
niefs,” three 44 carracks,” eight barges, and ten balingers. In
1417 it was augmented to three 44 large ships,” eight44 car-
racks,” six other ships, one barge, and nine balingers.
Early ton- Again, in a letter preserved among the Cottonian manu-
nage. scripts, and printed in Ellis’s collection, it is stated that
the Spaniards offered Henry V. two carracks for sale, one of
which is described as of a tonnage equal to 1400, and the
“ Fifteen hundred ships ready there be found,
With rich sails and high topcastle.”
This is a confusion of terms. The 44 topcastles” w^ere not
the forecastles, but were castellated enclosures at the mast¬
heads, in which the pages to the officers were stationed
during an engagement, in order to annoy the enemy with
darts and other missiles; as is frequently mentioned in
Froissart, and is represented in the illuminations to his work.
Carracks 44 were vessels of considerable burthen, and Carracks.
were next in size to great ships, in which class they indeed
were sometimes included. Their tonnage may be estimated
by their being in some instances capable of carrying 1400
butts; and the sail of one afforded Chaucer a strange simile
expressive of magnitude,
SHIP-BUILDING.
123
‘ And now hath Sathanas, saith he, a tayl
Broder than of a carrike is the sayl.’
Though occasionally armed and employed against the enemy,
they were more generally used in foreign trade.”
Charnock says that the first carrack which was built in
England was built for a merchant, John Tavenier of Hull,
who was consequently honoured by Henry VI. with distin¬
guished favour; and she was licensed in 1449 with parti¬
cular privileges to trade through the Straits of Morocco.
The king also ordered her to be called the “ Grace Dieu
Carrack.” The license states her to have been built 11 by
the help of God and some of the king’s subjects.”
Barges. Barges “ were a smaller kind of vessel and of different
construction from ships, though, like them, they sometimes
had forecastles. Those appointed to protect the seas in
1415 were of 100 tons burthen, and contained forty mari¬
ners, ten men-at-arms, and ten archers; whilst the ships
employed on the same occasion were of 120 tons, and had
forty-eight mariners, twenty-six men at arms, and twenty-
six archers each. Four large barges and two balingers
were capable of holding 120 men-at-arms and 480 archers
and sailors.”
Balingers. Balingers “ were still smaller than barges, had no fore¬
castle, and sometimes contained about forty sailors, ten
men-at-arms, and ten archers.” Froissart makes frequent
mention of “ balniers,” “ balleniers ” which he describes “ as
drawing little water, and being sent in advance to seek
adventures, in the same manner as knights and squires,
mounted on the fleetest horses, are ordered to scour in
front of an enemy, to see if there be any ambuscades.”
Monstrelet speaks of one vessel that was employed by Louis
XI. to abduct the Count de Charolais, by the two names
ballenier and balayer. It is not improbable that the name
is derived from the French word ia/emc, and that its origin
was similar to that of our English name whaler. The whale-
fishery in Biscay was of a very early date.
Galleys. Galleys “ are frequently mentioned at a very early
period; and in the 5th Rich. II., 1381, the Commons
complained that no measures had been taken to resist the
enemy, who had attacked the English at sea with their
barges, galleys, and other vessels. In 1405 Henry IV.
directed his council to apply to the King of Portugal to
lend him his galleys to assist the English navy against the
French.”
In Sir Grenville Temple’s Travels in Greece and Turkey
the following description of a Maltese galley, or, more cor-
rectly, galleas, made from an old model preserved there,
will be found:—“ These galleys measured 169 feet 1 inch
in length, and 39 feet 6 inches in breadth. They had three
masts with latine sails, and were propelled by forty-nine
oars, each 44 feet 5 inches long. Their armament con¬
sisted of 1 thirty-six pounder, 2 of twenty-four, and 4 of
six, all on the forecastle, which in those days had in reality
some appearance of a castle. On each side of the vessel,
aft of the forecastle, were 4 six-pounders.” The total crew,,
including galley-slaves, consisted of 549 persons.
Galleas. The Galleas and the Galleon appear to have been suc¬
cessive improvements on the original galley, rendered ne¬
cessary by the introduction of cannon into naval warfare.
The artillery introduced on board the early galleys was
placed either before or abaft the rowers, and to fire in the
direction of the length. In the galleas, a description of
vessel first used at the battle of Lepanto, guns were also
placed between the rowers, to fire from the broadside.
Evelyn describes the galleases he saw at Venice (1645) as
being “vessels to rowe of almost 150 foote long and 30
wide, not counting prow or poop, and contain twenty-eight
banks of oares, each seven men, and to carry 1300 men,
with three masts.” In the galleon the oars ceased to be
the principal means of propulsion, and if used at all, were
only so as occasional aids. The galley and galleas had
overhanging topsides for the accommodation of the oars. History.
In the galleon, on the contrary, the topsides “ tumbled
home” to so extraordinary an extent, that the breadth at
the water was twice that at the topside, a fashion which has
continued, but in a much less degree, to the present time.
Spynes or spynaces, “ now called pinnaces, seem to have Spynes or
been large boats, capable of holding twenty-five men, and spynaces.
were probably used for swiftness. To these must be added
crayers, hulks, gabarres or gabbars, a kind of flat-bottomed
boat, used in shallow rivers.” The French still continue
to apply the term “ gabarre” to store-ships.
“ Playtes, cogships, whence perhaps cogs and coggles are Playtes
derived; farecrofts, passagers, which were perhaps boats an(l smaller
used between England and France ; and cock-boats, a smallvesse*8'
boat which attended upon all kinds of ships. The whole
of these vessels were employed in conveying goods or pas¬
sengers, and most of them on rivers or in the coasting
trade. The ships, carracks, barges, balingers, and galleys,
were employed equally for commerce or for war. When
sent against the enemy, soldiers were put on board of them ;
and it is most likely they were at all times partly manned
by soldiers. In foreign voyages they usually sailed in con¬
voys ; and it was a very ancient custom for the masters and
sailors to elect their own admiral.”
In Burchett’s account of the unfortunate action in the Foists or
Bay of Conquet, in 1513, in which the Lord High Admiral, foysts*
Sir Edward Howard, lost his life, four foists are mentioned
as forming a part of the French force. They were proba¬
bly vessels of a similar character with the galley, but smaller
in size. About the beginning of the seventeenth century,
“ carracks,” “ galleons,” and “ tall shippes,” appear to have
become synonymous terms.
1 he term hulk originally was applied in a different sense Hulks,
from that which is stated in the part of the foregoing
remarks which we have quoted from the preface to the
proceedings of the privy council. Frequent allusion is
made to hulks in documents of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries. In a letter from Sir Thomas Seymour to the
privy council, dated the 13th of November 1544, when in
command of the “ shipes whyche was a poyntede to kepe
the Narrow Sees,” vindicating himself for putting back on
account of a storm, there is the following passage, from
which it might almost be inferred that hulk was a general
name synonymous with ships:—“ Thre holkes that come
after me colde nott gett syght thereof (the ‘ Eylle of
Wyght’) tyll they warre in a bay on the est syde of the
Eylle, of the whyche Mr Strowd, Bramston, and Battersebe
of the garde, God rest their sowles, was in on of them,
whyche holke brake all her ankeres and cabelles, and she
brake all to peses on the shorr, and but 41 of 300 saved a
lyve. The other two rode out the storme, whyche lasted
all that nyght and the next day. My brother (Sir Hy Sey-
mour) and John Roberds of the garde, tryde the sees all the
furst nyght, and the next day cam into Dartemouth haven,
wharre my brothers holke strake on a roke and brest all to
peses; but God be praysede, all the men warre savede,
savying thre; and a nother new holke that tryde the sees
that nyght brake thre of her bemes, and with moche ado
came into the Wyght.”
Again, in a letter from Lord Viscount Lisle, Baron
Malpas, the Lord High Admiral of England, to Henry
VIII., there is an announcement, that “ their is cum into
the Downes 30 sayle of hulkses, whereof sum be tall
shipes.” And again, in a letter from the same to the Lord
Chamberlain, Lord St John, he speaks of having detained
“3 grate hulkes bound, as they say, for Lusshborne, the
leste of ym 500 tunnes.” And again, from the same to the
same, he speaks of his former letter and the “goodly hulkes,”
and says, “ sithens that tyme I have stayed other too, which
in beautye and well appoynting are beyond the others. That
I have last stayed ys a shipe of 600 at the least, and hath
History.
SHIP-BUILDING.
124
History. 5 toppes, and she ys of the town of Dansick, and ladon in
Flanders for Lusshbourne.”
State The importance of the mercantile shipping of England
mercantile during the fifteenth century must have been considerable,
shipping. About the middle of it flourished the celebrated William
William Canynge, a merchant of Bristol, who built the church of St
Canynge. Mary’s, Redcliff, in that city, in which church he was buried
in 1474. This man appears to have been much in advance
of the rude times in which he lived. His mercantile trans¬
actions were on so extensive a scale, and carried on in ves¬
sels of such large size, that they must have had an important
influence in improving the navies of the period. The in¬
formation which has descended to us respecting him is
therefore not only a fact of much historical interest, but is
one which is intimately connected wuth, and most materially
affects, our subject. He was a great patron of the arts, a
friend and protector of genius, and eminent for his virtue
and piety. From an inscription upon his tomb, a tradition
has become current, that Edward IV. took 2470 tons of
shipping from him, he having “ forfeited the king’s peace
and for the obtaining of which again, it is stated that Ed¬
ward accepted these ships instead of a fine of 3000 marks.
The Itinerary of William of Worcester, preserved in the
library of Bennett College, Cambridge, gives the names of
Canynge’s vessels, among which are the Mary and John of
900 tons, Mary Redcliff of 500 tons, and Mary Canynge of
400 tons. The same authority gives the names and ton¬
nage of other large ships belonging to Bristol merchants,
among which are the John of 511 tons, and the Mary Grace
of 300 tons. If there be any truth in the tradition of the
confiscation of the shipping, it is probable that the inscrip¬
tion on the tomb may refer to some act of Canynge’s in
favour of the house of Lancaster, as he appears to have
enjoyed the favourable opinion of Henry VI. Another
account, which, it is said, is authenticated by the original
instrument in the Exchequer, states that this Canynge
assisted Edward IV. with a loan, and received in return a
license to have 2470 tons of shipping free of imposts. In
Corry’s History of Bristol it is said, “ the commerce and
manufactures of Bristol appear to have made considerable
progress during the fifteenth century, about the middle of
which flourished the celebrated Canynge. 1 his extraordi¬
nary man employed 2853 tons of shipping, and 800 ma¬
riners, during eight years. Two recommendatory letters
were written by Henry VI. in 1449, one to the master-
general of Prussia, and the other to the magistrates of
Dantzic, in which the king styles Canynge his beloved
eminent merchant of Bristol.”
DoaMs as Some doubt must always remain as to the actual size of
to accuracy the shipping of this remote period, as we cannot ascertain
in estimat- the tjUik that was then considered as equivalent to a ton.
ing Size of It is probabie that the tonnage was estimated according to
8 ^)S>> the number of butts of wine that a vessel could carry, h or
we find references to ships sometimes by tonnage, and
sometimes by the “ portage” of so many butts.
This, however, is only a question as to exactness of size.
In whatever way measured, Canynge’s ships must have been
of very considerable dimensions. It is rather extraordinary,
that at the unsettled period in question Bristol should have
enjoyed such a state of commercial prosperity as the owner¬
ship of sucli shipping as that enumerated by William of
Worcester necessarily involves. Bristol, for many centuries,
was only second in mercantile importance to London; but
the civil wars which distracted the kingdom during a great
part of the fifteenth century must have much retarded the
increase both of the military and the mercantile navy of
England; and only when order was again re-established by
Henr VII access*on Henry VII. to the throne, in 1485, could
enr^ men’s minds revert from the internal excitement of party
strife to external affairs.
In this interval, in which England was torn by the wars
of the houses of York and Lancaster, naval science had History,
made more rapid strides than in any previous period of '
similar duration. The compass was not only, known but Progress of
was generally adopted. Navigators could take observations naval im-
by the use of an instrument called the astrolabe, invented provement.
by the Portuguese. The Spaniards and Portuguese were Compass,
sufficiently advanced in the art of navigation to sail on a Astrolabe,
wind, and their smaller vessels, at least, were adapted for
this manoeuvre. New maritime states had started into
existence. The Netherlands, until then scarcely known, Nether-
was, under the Duke of Burgundy, the most formidable lands,
naval power in the north of Europe. “ His navy,” says
Philip de Commines, “ was so mighty and strong, that no
man durst stir in those narrow seas for fear of it, making
war upon the king of France’s subjects, and threatening
them everywhere ; his navy being stronger than that of
France and the Earl of Warwick joined together.” Ve-Venice,
nice, in 1420, according to Denina, in his Revolutions of
Italy, supported 3000 merchant-ships, on board of which
were 17,000 seamen. They employed 300 sail of superior
force, manned by 8000 seamen; had forty-five carracks,
with 11,000 men to navigate them; and her arsenals em¬
ployed 16,000 carpenters. Portugal had pushed her dis¬
coveries round the Cape, and Spain had added America to
the world.
The progress of discovery by the Portuguese to the south Portugal,
and east, and by the Spaniards to the west, in the voyages Spain,
of Columbus, with the consequent rapid increase in the
importance of these two powers, and the influence of their
discoveries on the state of Europe, renders the fifteenth
century probably the most important of modern history. In
it was given the death-blow to the increase of the Saracenic
power, and to that of the Mediterranean states. The
Turk, the Venetian, and the Genoese, had hitherto been
the monopolizers of the commerce of the east. The dis¬
covery of the passage round the Cape of Good Hope Passage
opened this trade to all nations. The commercial sceptre, J°aand ^
and consequently the military sceptre, hitherto shared by ^
the Turk, passed wholly from the infidel to the believer.
The crescent sank before the cross.
There can be no doubt, also, that the “ tormentas” of the Its infiu-
“ grdo Cabo de boa Esperdga,” were a means of great im-
provement in naval architecture ; for, in consequence of the chitecture.
representations of Bartholomew Diaz, John II. of Portugal
ordered ships to be constructed for the especial purpose of
contending with the stormy seas of the Cape of Good
Hope. The ships were built to form the squadron of Vasco
de Gama, and were of small tonnage, from the very proper
idea that small vessels were more adapted to prosecute re¬
searches in unknown seas than those of a large size, and
consequent increased draught of water.
The squadron of Vasco de Gama consisted of three ships Squadron
and a caravella. One of the ships was of the burthen of®f Vasco
200 tons, another 120, and the third 100; the caravella was de auia'
of 50 tons. The largest of the ships was a victualler; the
smallest was intended to prosecute discovery up creeks and
shallows ; and the other was for a display of force. As it is
evident that it was not increase of dimensions which was to
be the object in designing new vessels, the direction of im¬
provement must have been towards perfecting their forms,
strengthening their frames, and adding to the efficiency of
their materiel. Portugal by these means became the most
advanced state of Europe in knowledge of the art of ship¬
building; for it was long supposed that the passage to India
required ships such as the Portuguese alone could build.
Spain, in her career of discovery, conquest, and coloniza¬
tion across the mighty waters of the Atlantic, as if to
assimilate the means to the vastness of her achievements,
rapidly acquired the art of constructing ships of very large
dimensions; and as long as she possessed a marine, her
ships maintained this superiority.
History.
State of
iava] af-
'airs in
ingland.
lenri
rraee a
)ieu.
larly ori-
in of na-
al terms.
SHIP-BUILDING.
125
There is a curious instance of the light in which naval
enterprises were considered in England at this time, not¬
withstanding the earnest desire of the monarch to re¬
establish his navy, which had necessarily suffered from the
long civil wars. A letter from Henry VII. to the Pope is
preserved in the Cottonian Library, excusing himself from
sending succour against the Turk, from which the following
is a quotation :—“ The Galees commying from Vennest o
England be commonly vij. monethes sailying, and some¬
times moreand again, “ it should be May or they should
be ready to saill, and it shall be the last end of September
or the said shippes shuld passe the Streits of Marrok; and
grete difficultie to fynde any Maryners liable to take the
rule and governance of the said shippes sailying into so jeo-
pardous and ferre parties.”
There is a drawing extant in the Pepysian Library in
Magdalen College, Cambridge, of the Henri Grace a Dieu,
built by the order of Henry VIL, which Charnock has
engraved in his History of Marine Architecture, and argues
as to the general authenticity of the representation. He
says, “ this vessel may be termed the parent of the British
navy. This celebrated structure, the existence of which is
recorded in many of the ancient chronicles, cost the king,
by report, nearly 14,000 pounds.”
From this drawing may be traced the derivation of one
or two names which have been preserved even to the pre¬
sent hour; as, for instance, the “yard-arm,” no doubt from
the ends of the yards being armed with an iron hook. The
castellated work from which has arisen the term “ forecastle”
is earlier than this ; and the buckler-ports are most probably
derived from a yet earlier period, when the bucklers of the
knights were ranged along the sides of the ship, as they
are represented in the illustrations of Froissart, and of the
early chroniclers, and even in the Bayeux Tapestry.
“ The masts were five in number, inclusive of the bow¬
sprit, an usage which continued in the first-rates without
alteration till nearly the end of the reign of King Charles I.;
they were without division, in conformity with those which
had been in unimproved use from the earliest ages. This
inconvenience it was very soon found indispensably neces¬
sary to remedy, by the introduction of separate joints, or
top-masts, which could be lowered in case of need.”
The drawing shows two tiers of ports. The introduction
of port-holes is said to be an improvement due to a French
ship-builder of Brest, named Descharges, in the reign of
Louis XII., and about the year 1500. If the drawing be
authentic, the correctness of this appropriation of the merit
of the introduction of port-holes may be questionable.
Again, if the drawing be a correct representation of the
vessel, she would have been in danger of upsetting, ex¬
cepting in calm weather, and when her course was with the
wind. In fact, as yet the large ships of war of England
were not at all adapted to sail on a wind, and were very
ill provided with such sails as would enable them to do so;
they had therefore nothing to fear from the result of a
measure which could not be put into execution. The
fleets of war seldom ventured out of port excepting in the
summer months, and then only when the wind was favour¬
able to their intended course. But very shortly after the
date of the building of the Henri Grace a Dieu, great
improvement took place, and in the reign of Henry VIII.
there is evidence to prove that sailing on a wind formed
one of the qualities of the vessels composing his fleets.
1 his fact appears to throw some doubt upon the correct¬
ness of the drawing, for it must have required ships widely
different from any of which that would at all give an idea,
to have performed the evolution of tacking or wearing;
and as the Henri Grace a Dieu was in all probability the
same ship that on the accession of Henry VIII. was called
the Regent, she must have formed one in fleets which were
capable of performing these manoeuvres. It is true that she
may have been altered to adapt her to these new require- History,
men'ts of an improved system of seamanship ; and it must v— -*_J
also be said, that she was burned in an action with the
French fleet, which occurred as early as the fourth year of
the reign of Henry VIII.
Though it is out of the question that ships with the Henry
enormous top-hamper which, on the evidence of all the VIII.
drawings extant, still continued to be the fashion, could Sailing on
have made much progress in sailing on a wind, the letters a wind-
of the time extant corroborate the statement made; for
they begin to contain references to this improvement in
navigation. In a letter from Sir Edward Howard, “ Lord
Admiral,” to King Henry VIII., upon the state of the
fleet, a.d. 1513, preserved in the Cottonian Library, and
published in Ellis’s collection, the following passage oc¬
curs :—“ Ye commanded me to send your grace word how
every shipp dyd sail; and this same was the best tryal that
cowd be, for we went both slakyng and by a bowlyn, and
a cool acros and abouet in such wyse that few shippes
lakkyd no water in over the lee wales.” The Lord High
Admiral Lisle, in one of his letters (1545), says the small
vessels of his fleet could “lye best by a wynde;” and in.
1567 we have conclusive proof that there were “ fore and
aft,” indeed “ cutter-rigged” vessels on the British seas;
as in a map of Ireland of that date, published in the state-
papers, two such vessels are represented, for the purpose,
apparently, of indicating regular packets from England to
Ireland.
It has been very generally supposed, on the authority of
Sir Walter Raleigh, that the “knowledge of the bowline”
was a discovery in navigation made shortly before his time ;
but is is probable that there were, even from the time of
the Northmen, craft so rigged as to be capable of sailing
on a wind. Froissart mentions, in several instances, “a
vessel called a Lin, which sails with all winds, and without
danger;” and again, “ a vessel called a Lin, which keeps
nearer the wind than any other.” Boats with a rig adapted
for this manoeuvre are also represented in engravings of a
very early date. In the plates of Breydenbach’s Voyage
to Palestine, which was published in 1483, boats and small
vessels are represented with lateen sails; and in Braun’s
Civitates Orbis Terrarum, published in 1572, sprit-sails
are met with. It is quite certain, however, that sailing on
a wind was by no means a general quality possessed by the
ships of war, or to any extent even by the greater portion
of the larger shipping, until about the reign of Henry
VIII. One other instance may be adduced in the account
of the loss of the Mari Rose, a ship of the “ portage of
500 tons,” not so much to corroborate the fact of sailing
on, a wind as to show that the two innovations, the intro¬
duction of port-holes and the “knowledge of the bow¬
line,” were in advance of the qualities of the large ships of
war of the time. Sir Walter Raleigh says that, “ in King
Henry VIII.’s time, at Portsmouth, the Mari Rose, by a
little sway of the ship in casting about, her ports being
within sixteen inches of the water, was overset and lost.”
The loss of this ship has been the means of giving Loss of the
another interesting insight into the comparatively low state Mari Hose,
of nautical skill in England at this period, namely, the
middle of the sixteenth century. In a letter among the
state-papers published under the direction of the Record
Commission, addressed by the Duke of Suffolk to Sir
William Pagett, “ chief secretary to the kinge’s highnes,”
dated the 23d of July 1545, and containing a schedule of
things necessary to be had for the raising of the Mari Rose,
one item is “ fifty Venyzian maryners and one Venyzian
carpenterthe next item is “ sixty Englisshe maryners to
attende upon them.” It would also appear that the attempt
was to be made under the direction of an Italian, as the
conclusion of the schedule is, “ Item, Symond, petrone
and master in the Foyst, doth aggrie that all thyngs must be
126
History.
Minutiae of
ship-build¬
ing at this
period.
Large Swe¬
dish ship.
Royal
dockyards.
Edward
VI.
SHIP-BUILDING.
had for the purpose aforesaid.” The attempts, however, all
failed ; the wreck of the Mari Rose remains to this day at
Spithead, and so lately as August 1836, several of her
brass cannon, of most exquisite workmanship, were re¬
covered from the sea by the enterprise and ability of an
Englishman of the name of Deane.
Some idea of the detail of ship-building rather before
this period may be obtained from an account of a vessel
built by James IV. of Scotland, at the close of the fifteenth
or the beginning of the sixteenth century. The extract is
from Charnock, but he has not mentioned his authority.
“ The king of Scotland rigged a great ship, called the
Great Michael, which was the largest and of superior
strength to any that had sailed from England or France ;
for this ship was of so great stature, and took so much
timber, that, except Falkland, she wasted all the woods in
Fife which were oakwood, with all timber that was gotten
out of Norway; for she was so strong, and of so great
length and breadth, all the wrights of Scotland, yea, and
many other strangers, were at her device by the king’s
command, who wrought very busily in her; but it was a
year and a day ere she was completed. To wit, she was
twelve score feet of length, and thirty-six foot within the
sides; she was ten foot thick in the wall and boards, on
every side so slack and so thick that no cannon could go
through her. This great ship cumbered Scotland to get
her to sea. From that time that she was afloat, and her
masts and sails complete, with anchors offering thereto, she
was counted to the king to be thirty thousand pounds ex¬
pense, by her artillery, which was very great and costly to
the king, by all the rest of her orders. To wit, she bare
many cannon, six on every side, with three great bassils,
two behind in her dock and one before, with three hundred
shot of small artillery, that is to say, myand and batterd
falcon, and quarter falcon, flings, pestilent serpentens, and
double dogs, with hagtor and culvering, corsbows and
handbows. She had three hundred mariners to sail her,
she had six score of gunners to use her artillery, and had
a thousand men of war, by her captains, shippers, and
quarter-masters.”
Several of the writers of this period mention the fact of
a Swedish ship of extraordinary dimensions being built in
the middle of the sixteenth century, and which was burned
in an action between the Swedes and Danes in 1564.
Chapman has given an estimate of the dimensions of this
vessel. She was called the Makalos (by Charnock,
Megala). According to Chapman, she was 168 English
feet in length and 43 English feet in breadth, an immense
vessel for that period. Her armament was 173 guns, 67
only of which could be considered as cannon, the remainder
being merely swivels.
Henry VIII. was deeply sensible of the necessity of a
permanent and powerful naval force, and established the
navy office, and also several dockyards for building and
repairing the ships of the royal navy. Among these were
Woolwich, Deptford, and Chatham. He also greatly added
to and improved the dockyard at Portsmouth. He invited
from foreign countries, particularly from Italy, the com¬
mercial cities of which were still in advance of the rest of
Europe in the maritime arts, as many skilful foreigners as
he could allure, either by the hope of gain or by the
honours and distinguished countenance he paid to them.
The following extract is from a report made to James I.
in the year 1618, and published in the Archceologia. It
was made in answer to a commission issued by that mon¬
arch to the several master-builders.
The minority of Edward VI., and the civil and religious
strife which distracted the kingdom during the reign of
Mary, depressed the resources of the state, and evidently
much checked the progress of its maritime strength. The
report says, “In former times our kings have enlarged
their dominions rather by land than sea forces, whereat History,
even strangers have marvelled, considering the many ad-
vantages of a navy; but since the change of weapons and
fight, Henry VIII., making use of Italian shipwrights, and
encouraging his own people to build strong ships of war, to
carry great ordnance, by that means established a puissant
navy, which in the end of his reign consisted of 70 vessels,
whereof 30 were ships of burthen, and contained in all
10,550 tons, and 2 galleys. The rest were small barques
and row-barges, from 80 tons downwards to 15 tons, which
served in rivers and for landing of men. Edward VI., in
the sixth year of his reign, had but 53 ships, containing in
all 11,005 tons, with 7995 men, whereof only 28 vessels
were above 80 tons each. Queen Mary had but 46 of all
sorts.”
There is one peculiarity about the fleets of this time, Defects of
which exemplifies the defects of their design in a very thf shlPsef
remarkable feature. It is, that the ships built for the royalthl8 P61,10*1-
navy appear only to have been adapted for the lodgment of
the soldiers and mariners, with their implements of war,
and the necessary stores for navigation. The provisions
were carried in an attendant vessel, called a “ victualler,”
of which there was one attached to each of the large ships
of war in the fleet, or to several of the smaller size. The
hold appears to have been principally occupied by the
“ cook-room,” the inconvenience of which arrangement,
though much complained of, was general when Sir Walter
Raleigh, in his Discourse on the Royal Navy and Sea
Service, recommended that it should be removed to the
forecastle 5 and even so lately as 1715, several men of war
had “ cook-rooms” in their holds. There is also no doubt
that the enormous quantity of ballast which was rendered
necessary by the immense top-hamper of these ships, and
the space which it occupied, from being shingle, left but
little room for the stowage of any quantity of provisions.
In the ships built for commerce, this defect does not appear
to have existed, as in fleets composed of the king’s and of
private shipping, those ships only which belonged to the
royal navy had these attendant victuallers. The cook-
rooms in the merchant shipping were under the forecastle ;
and they had less top-hamper, as less accommodation was
required for officers.
Although the comparative inefficiency of the vessels may Epoch in
be commented on, it will be apparent that that period in the naTal ar'
history of naval architecture and of navigation has now been chltectu^e•
entered on in which, though still in their infancy, these arts
may be considered as perfect in all but the maturity to be
acquired by the experience of years. The mariner’s com¬
pass was known ; the theory of taking observations was
understood, and the practice of it in the course of being
perfected; and therefore the longest voyages could be
undertaken with comparative certainty and safety. Besides
this, the ships, though still imperfect, were becoming gradu¬
ally manageable machines, and had ceased to be the cum¬
brous masses of the preceding ages, which, with few ex¬
ceptions, were capable of little more than of being driven
before the wind.
If the contents of the foregoing pages be considered, Three
there will appear to be three epochs in the maritime history ePochs in
of England; the first commencing with the introduction of ^em^'
galleys by Alfred, and ending with the reign of Edward tory of
III., before whose time these galleys and vessels, propelled England,
by oars, were the chief instruments of navigation; the
second ending with the reign of Henry VII., during which
period, though sailing vessels were used for the purposes
both of war and commerce, they were comparatively at
the mercy of the winds, and, speaking generally, could sail
only when they blew both fairly and gently; the third
epoch has been already noticed.
From the extract of the report of the builders, the state
of the navy during the reigns of Edward VI. and of Mary
SHIP-BUILDING.
127
da,
rhree-
lecked
ships.
History, will be seen. It is known, therefore, that when Elizabeth
ascended the throne, the marine of England, both military
Elizabeth. and mercantile, was in a very depressed state. The suc-
Action cessful enterprise of Drake, and the fear of the Spanish
with Span- Armada, aroused the energies of the country, and the force
ish Arma- collected to resist the invasion amounted to 197 vessels of
various descriptions, of the aggregate burthen of nearly
30,000 tons, 34 of which, measuring together 12,600 tons,
composed the royal navy. It is true, that by far the larger
portion wrere of small force. One only, the Triumph, was
of 1100 tons ; another, the White Bear, was of 1000 tons ;
two were of 800 tons, 3 of 600, six of 500, and five of
400; sixty-six were under 100 tons ; and fifteen were
victuallers, of which the tonnage is not mentioned. There
are also seven other vessels included in the 197 which have
no tonnage assigned them ; but they must have been of
small size, the number of mariners on board the whole
seven being only 474. We have very conclusive means of
comparing the Spanish with the English ships, and also of
judging how very little naval arrangements were then
understood, from their imperfect state even on board a
fleet which had occupied the whole attention of the Spanish
authorities for a space of three years, exemplified in the
following anecdote. Burchett, in his account of the action
of the 23d of July 1588, says, “The great guns on both
sides thundered with extraordinary fury, but the shot from
the high-built Spanish ships flew over the heads of the
English without doing any execution ; one Mr Cock being
the only Englishman who fell, while he was bravely fight¬
ing against the enemy in a small vessel of his own.”
The Spaniards appear to have been the first to introduce
a third tier of guns, the earliest mention of a three-decker
being the Philip, a Spanish ship engaged in the action
off the Azores in 1591, with the Revenge, commanded
by Sir Richard Greenvil. The following armament of the
Philip is extracted from a most spirit-stirring account of this
tremendous action, which was written by Sir Walter Raleigh,
and has been preserved by Hackluyt. “ The Philip carried
three tire of ordnance on a side, and eleven pieces in euerie
tire. She shot eight forth right out of her chase, besides
those of her stern portes.”
The English do not appear to have followed the example
set by the Spaniards ; for, during the long reign of Eliza¬
beth, the ships of the royal navy were not much, if at all,
increased in their dimensions, which was probably owing to
the triumphant successes of her fleets, though they wrere
composed of ships generally much smaller in size than those
opposed to them. From the list of the royal navy at the
time of her death, in 1603, given by Sir William Monson
in his tracts, of 42 ships composing the navy, there were
then only two ships of 1000 tons, three of 900, three of
800, two of 700, four of 600, four of 500, and there were
eight under 100 tons burthen. Two of these ships, the
Triumph and the White Bear, are rated in this list each at
100 tons less burthen than in the list of the fleet in the
year 1588, already noticed.
The mercantile marine was also greatly improved and
increased during the reign of Elizabeth. This wise monarch
did all in her power to encourage foreign trade; and she
honoured Drake by knighting him on board his own vessel at
Deptford, after his return from circumnavigating the globe.
The celebrated Sir Walter Raleigh, under a charter granted
by her in 1584, commenced trading with America, and his
successes, with those of others, in trade, as well as in the
capture of richly laden Spanish merchantmen, prove the
superiority of the English ships of this period. In 1600
the East India Company obtained their charter from Eliza¬
beth, and merchant-ships, which proved the precursors of
a fleet of the finest merchantmen, were immediately built
by them for this distant traffic.
Shortly after the accession of James to the throne, several
commissions were appointed to inquire into the state of the History,
navy. From that of the year 1618 a very voluminous
report emanated, of which the following is an extract, that James I.
affords an example of the state of knowledge on naval archi- Report of
tecture at that time:—“ The next consideration is the commis-
manner of building, which in shipps of warr is of greatestsion*
importance, because therein consists both their sayling and
force. The shipps that can saile best can take or leave (as
they say), and use all advantages the winds and seas does
afford; and their mould, in the judgment of men of best
skill, both dead and alive, should have the length treble to
the breadth, and breadth in like proportion to the depth,
but not to draw above 16 foote water, because deeper
shipps are seldom good saylers, and ever unsafe for our
rivers, and for the shallow harbours, and all coasts of ours,
or other seas. Besides, they must bee somewhat snugg
built, without double gallarys, and too lofty upper workes,
which overcharge many shipps, and make them coeme faire,
but not worke well at sea.
“ And for the strengthening the shipps, wee subscribe to
the manner of building approved by the late worthy prince,
the lord adm11., and the officers of the navy (as wee are in¬
formed), on those points.
“1. In makeing 3 orlopes, whereof the lowest being
placed 2 foote under water, both strengtheneth the shipp,
and though her sides bee shott through, keepeth it from
bildgeing by shott, and giveth easier meanes to finde and
stopp the leakes.
“ 2. In carrying their orlopes whole floored throughout
from end to end, without fall or cutting off ye wast, which
only to make faire cabbins, hath decayed many shipps.
“3. In laying the second orlope at such convenient
height that the portes may beare out the whole fire of
ordinance in all seas and weathers.
“ 4. In placeing the cooke roomes in the forecastle, as
otherr war shipps doe, because being in the midshipps, and
in the holds, the smoake and heate soe search every corner
and seame, that they make the okam spew out, and the
shipps leaky, and soone decay ; besides, the best roome for
stowage of victualling is thereby soe taken up, that trans¬
porters must be hyred for every voyage of any time ; and,
which is worst, when all the weight must bee cast before
and abaft, and the shipps are left empty and light in the
midst, it makes them apt to sway in the back, as the Guard-
land and divers others have done.”
This commission was followed by several others during
this and the succeeding reign, and from their reports arose
many regulations tending much to the improvement of
the navy, although the expenses incurred were, ostensibly
at least, in part the means of causing the subsequent revo¬
lution.
In the early part of the reign of James I. the mercantile Mercantile
navy of England was reduced to a very low state, most of shipping of
the commerce being carried on in foreign bottoms. The Pe'
incitement offered by the advantageous trade which the110 '
Dutch had long engaged in to India at length aroused the
nation, and the formation of the East India Company, which
was the act of James, was followed by the building of the
largest ship that had yet been constructed for the purposes
of commerce, at least in England. The king dined on board Trade’s In-
of her, and gave her the name of the Trade’s Increase, crease.
She is reported to have been of the burthen of 1200 tons.
The impetus once given, before the end of the reign of
James an important mercantile navy was owned by British
merchants.
Another interesting fact connected with this reign is the ship¬
founding of the Shipwrights’ Company, in the year 1605, wrights’
and which was incorporated by a charter granted to the Company.
“Master, Warden, and Commonality of the Art or Mys¬
tery of Shipwrights,” in May 1612. Mr Phineas Pett was
the first master. The draughts for the ships of the royal
SHIP-BUILDING.
128
History, navy were subsequently ordered to be submitted to this
company for approval previously to being built from. They
Draughts a^so had jurisdiction over all builders, whether of the royal
of ships of navy or of merchant-shipping.
royal navy. In 1610 the Royal Prince was launched; she was the
Royal largest ship which at that time had been built in England,
Prince. and was also a most decided improvement in naval archi¬
tecture. The great projection of the prow, a remnant of
the old galley, was for the first time discontinued, and the
stern and quarters assimilated more to those of a modern
ship than to any which had preceded her. She is thus de¬
scribed in Stow’s Chronicles:—“ A most goodly ship for
warre, the keel whereof was 114 feet in length, and the
cross-beam was 44 feet in length; she will carry 64 pieces
of ordnance, and is of the burthen of 1400 tons. The great
workmaster in building this ship was Master Phineas Pett,
Gentleman, some time master of arts at Emanuel College,
Cambridge.”
Phineas The same gentleman, Mr Phineas Pett, continued the
Pett. principal engineer of the navy during the reign of Charles.
The family of the Petts were the great instruments in the
improvement of the navy, and, if the term may be allowed,
of modernizing it, by divesting the ships of much of the
cumbrous top-hamper entailed on them from the castel¬
lated defences which had been necessary in, and which yet
remained from, the hand-to-hand encounters of the middle
ages ; and it is probable that, but for the taste for gorgeous
decoration which prevailed during the seventeenth century,
this ingenious family would have been able to effect much
more; as it was, they decidedly rendered England pre¬
eminently the school for naval architecture during the time
The Petts. they constructed its fleets. This family can be traced as
principal engineers for the navy from about the middle of
the fifteenth century to the end of the reign of William TIL
First fri- Evelyn, in his Diary, relating a conversation, says,
gate. “ Sir Anthony Deane mentioned what exceeding advan¬
tage we of this nation had by being the first who built
frigates, the first of which ever built was that vessell which
was afterwards called the Constant Warwick (built in 1646),
and was the work of Pet of Chatham, for a trial of making
a vessell that would sail swiftly. It was built with low
decks, the guns lying near the water, and was so light and
swift of sailing, that in a short time she had, ere the Dutch
war was ended, taken as much money from privateers as
would have laden her.” The dimensions of this vessel are
given in Pepys’s Miscellanies as follows: length of the
keel 85 feet, breadth 26 feet 5 inches, depth 13 feet 2
inches, and 315 tons burthen ; her highest number of guns”
32, and of crew 140.
Peter Pett. Peter Pett, who built the Constant Warwick, was the son
of Phineas Pett. He caused the fact of his being the in¬
ventor of the frigate to be recorded on his tomb. He was
also the builder of the Sovereign of the Seas, in 1637, which
First three-was the first three-decker built in England. Her length
decker. over all is stated to have been 232 feet, her length of keel
128 feet, her main breadth 48 feet, and her tonnage 1637.
Heywood describes her in the following terms:—“ She hath
three flush deckes and a forecastle, an halfe decke, a quarter
decke, and a round-house. Her lower tyre hath thirty
ports, which are to be furnished with demi-cannon and
whole cannon throughout, being able to beare them. Her
middle tyre hath also thirty ports for demi-culverin and
whole culverin. Her third tyre hath twentie-sixe ports
for other ordnance. Her forecastle hath twelve ports, and
her halfe decke hath fourteene ports. She hath thirteene
or foureteene ports more within board for murdering peeces,
besides a great many loope-holes out of the cabins for musket
shot. She carrieth, moreover, ten peeces of chase ord¬
nance in her right forward, and ten right aff; that is, ac¬
cording to land service, in the front and the reare. She
carrieth eleaven anchors, one of them weighing foure thou¬
sand foure hundred, &c.; and according to these are her History,
cables, mastes, sayles, cordage, which, considered together,
seeing Majesty is at this infinite charge, both for the honour
of his nation, and the security of his kingdome, it should
bee a spur and encouragement to all his faithful and loving
subjects to bee liberall and willing contributaries towards
the ship money.”
Of this ship, Fuller, in his Worthies, says, “ The Great
Sovereign, built at Woolwich, a leiger ship for state, is the
greatest ship our island ever saw; but great medals are
made for some grand solemnity, while lesser coin are more
current and passable in payment.” She was afterwards
cut down one deck, and remained in the service, with the
character of the best man-of-war in the world, until the
year 1696, when she was accidentally burnt at Chatham.
About this time, 1650, appeared the first work connected Sir Walter
with naval improvement ever written in this country, and Raleigh’s
by no less celebrated an author than Sir Walter Raleigh.
It is very probable that his two discourses, the one on the Ship,
Invention of Shipping, the other Concerning the Royalping. Con.
Navy and Sea-Service, had great influence in creating the ceming the,
interest which was evidently taken about this period in the Royal Navy
improvement of the navy. Sir Walter says, “ Whosoever ,Sea'
were the inventors, we find that every age had added some- erw^ce•
what to ships and to all things else. And in my owne time
the shape of our English ships hath been greatly bettered.
It is not long since the striking of the top-mast (a wonder¬
fully great ease to great ships both at sea and harbour) hath
been devised. Together with the chaine-pumpe, which
takes up twice as much water as the ordinary did, we have
lately added the bonnett and the drabler. To the courses
we have devised studding-sayles, top-gallant-sayles, sprit-
sayles, top-sayles. The weighing of anchors by the cap-
stane is also new. We have fallen into consideration of the
length of cables, and by it we resist the malice of the
greatest winds that can blow; witnesse our small Milbroke
men of Cornewall, that ride it out at anchor half seas over
betweene England and Ireland all the winter quarter; and
witnesse the Hollanders that were wont to ride before Dun-
kirke with the wind at north-west, making a lee-shore in
all weathers ; for true it is that the length of the cable is
the life of the ship in all extremities; and the reason is,
because it makes so many bendings and waves as the ship
riding at that length is not able to stretch it, and nothing
breaks that is not stretched. In extremity, we carry our
ordnance better than we were wont, because our nether-
overloops are raised commonly from the water, to wit, be¬
tweene the lower part of the port and the sea. We have
also raised our second decks, and given more vent thereby
to our ordnance, tying in our nether-overloope.
“ We have added crosse pillars in our royall ships to
strengthen them, which being fastened from the kelson to
the beames of the second decke, keep them from settling
or from giving away in all distresses.
“We have given longer floares to our ships than in elder
times, and better bearing under wrater, whereby they never
fall into the sea after the head, and shake the whole body,
nor sinck sterne, nor stoope upon a wind, by which the
breaking loose of our ordnance, or the not use of them,
with many other discommodities, are avoided. And to say
the truth, a miserable shame and dishonour it were for our
shipwrights, if they did not exceed all other in the setting
up of our royall ships, the errors of other nations being farre
more excusable than ours. For the kings of England have
for many years been at the charge to build and furnish a
navy of powerfull ships for their owne defence, and for the
wars only; whereas the French, the Spainards, the Portu-
galls, and the Hollanders (till of late), have had no proper
fleete belonging to their princes or states.
“ Only the Venetians for a long time have maintained
their arsenal of gallyes, and the kings of Denmark and
History.
Ships of
royal navy
inferior to
merchant-
ships.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Sweden have had good ships for these last fifty years. I
say that the forenamed kings, especially the Spainards and
Portugalls, have ships of great bulke, but fitter for the mer¬
chant than the man of warre, for burthen then for battaile.
. . . . Although we have not at this time 135 ships belong¬
ing to the subjects of 500 Urns each ship, as it is said we
had in the 24th yeare of Queen Elizabeth, at which time
also, upon a generall view and muster, there were found in
England, of all men fit to beare arms, eleaven hundred and
seventy-two thousand; yet are our merchants’ ships now
farre more warlike and better appointed than they were,
and the royal navy double as strong as then it was We
have not, therefore, lesse force than we had, the fashion and
furnishing of our ships considered ; for there are in England
at this time 400 saile of merchants fit for the wars, which
the Spainards would call gallions ; to which we may add 200
saile of crumsters or hoyes, of Newcastle, which each of
them will beare six demi-culverins, and four sakers, need¬
ing no other addition of building than a slight spar-decke
fore and afte, as the seamen call it, which is a slight decke
throughout. The 200 which may be chosen out of 400, by
reason of their ready staying and turning, by reason of their
windwardnesse, and by reason of their drawing of little water,
and they are of extreame vantage neere the shoare, and in
all bayes and rivers to turn in and out; these, I say, alone,
well manned and well conducted, would trouble the greatest
prince in Europe to encounter in our seas ; for they stay and
turn so readily as, ordering them into small squadrons, three
of them at once may give their broad-sides upon any one
great ship, or upon any angle or side of an enemy’s fleet.
They shall be able to continue a perpetuall volley of demi-
culverins without intermission, and either sink or slaughter
the men, or utterly disorder any fleete of crosse sailes with
which they encounter.
“ I say, then, if a vanguard be ordained of these hoyes,
who will easily recover the wind of any other ships, with a
battaile of 400 other warlike shipsj and a reare of thirty of
his majestie’s ships to sustaine, relieve, and countenance the
rest (if God beat them not), I know not what strength can
be gathered in all Europe to beat them. And if it be ob¬
jected that the states can furnish a farre greater number, I
answer, that his majestie’s forty ships, added to 600 before
named, are of incomparable greater force than all that Hol¬
land and Zeeland can furnish for wars.”
In the foregoing extract there is strong evidence that
the ships of the royal navy were generally inferior to those
employed by the merchant-service, in the essential qualifi¬
cations of being weatherly. This is exactly the conclusion
that might be arrived at from the consideration, that a pri¬
vate individual would dispense with all that superabundance
of top-hamper which was entailed on the ships of the royal
navy, by the accommodation required for the numerous
officers and gentlemen generally embarked on board them,
and also by the mania for gorgeous decorations. This mania
is well exemplified by the fact, that of the Sovereign of the
Seas it is stated, “ She beareth five lanthornes, the biggest
of which will hold ten persons to stand upright, and without
shouldering one another.”
Sir Walter Raleigh, in his Discourse on the Royal
Navy and Sea-Service, adverts to the same subject. He
says, “We find by experience, that the greatest ships are
lesse serviceable, goe very deep to. water, and of marvellous
charge and fearefull cumber, our channells decaying every
yeare. Besides, they are lesse nimble, lesse maineable,
and very seldome imployed. Grande navio, grande fatiea,
saith the Spainard; a ship of 600 tons will carry as good
ordnance as a ship of 1200 tons; and though the greater
have double the number, the lesser will turn her broad¬
sides twice before the greater can wend once; and so no
advantage in that overplus of ordnance. And in the build¬
ing of all ships, these six things are principally required :—
VOL. xx.
129
1. First, that she be strong built; 2. Secondly, that she be History,
swift; 3. Thirdly, that she be stout sided ; 4. Fourthly,
that she carry out her guns all weather; 5. Fifthly, that
she hull and "try well, which we call a good sea ship; 6.
Sixthly, that she stay well when bourding and turning on
a wind is required.
“ 1. To make her strong, consisteth in the truth of the
workeman and the care of the officers.
“ 2. To make her sayle well, is to give a long run forward,
and so afterward done by art and just proportion. For, as
in laying out of her bows before, and quarters behind, she
neither sinck into nor hang in the water, but lye cleare off
and above it; and that the shipwrights be not deceived
herein (as for the most part they have ever been), they
must be sure that the ship sinck no deeper into the water
than they promise, for otherwise the bow and quarter will
utterly spoile her sayling.
“ 3. That she be stout, the same is provided and performed
by a long bearing floore, and by sharing off above water
even from the lower edge of the ports.
“4. To carry out her ordnance all weather, this long
bearing floore, and sharing off from above the ports, is a
chiefe cause, provided alwayesthat your lowest tyre of ord¬
nance must lye foure foot cleare above water when all
loading is in, or else those your best pieces will be of small
use at the same in any growne weather that makes the
billoe to rise, for then you shall be enforced to take in all
your lower ports, or else hazard the ship.
“5. To make her a good sea ship, that is to hull and
trye well, there are two things specially to be observed;
the one that she have a good draught of water, the other
that she be not overcharged, which commonly the king’s
ships are, and therefore in them we are forced to lye at
trye with our maine course and missen, which, with a deep
keel and standing streake, she will performe.
“ 6. The hinderance to stay well is the extreame length
of a ship, especially if she be floaty and want sharpnesse of
way forwards; and it is most true, that those over-long
ships are fitter for our seas than for the ocean ; but one
hundred foot long, and five and thirty foot broad, is a good
proportion for a great ship. It is a speciall observation,
that all ships sharpe before, that want a long floore, will fall
roughly into the sea, and take in water over head and ears.
“ So will all narrow quartered ships sinck after the tayle.
The high charging of ships is it that brings them all ill
qualities, makes them extreame leeward, makes them sinck
deep into the water, makes them labour, and makes them
overset. Men may not expect the ease of many cabbins,
and safety at once, in sea-service. Two decks and a half is
sufficient to yield shelter and lodging for men and mariners,
aud no more charging at all higher, but only one low cabbin
for the master. But our marriners will say, that a ship
will beare more charging aloft for cabbins, and that is true,
if none but ordinary marryners were to serve in them, who
are able to endure, and are used to, the tumbling and rowl-
ing of ships from side to side when the sea is never so little
growne; but men of better sort and better breeding would
be glad to find more steadinesse and lesse tottering cadge
work. And albeit, the marriners doe covet store of cabbins,
yet indeed they are but sluttish dens, that bread sicknesse
in peace, serving to cover stealths, and in fight are danger¬
ous to teare men with their splinters.”
In Fuller’s Worthies, there is also a short summary of Fuller’s
the comparative qualities of the ships of different nations in WortUeu
the middle of the seventeenth century.. It is as follows :
“ First, for the Portugal, his cavils and carracts, whereof
few now remain (the charges of maintaining them far ex¬
ceeding the profit they bring in); they were the veriest
drones on the sea, the rather because formerly their seeling
was darn’d up with a certain kind of mortar to dead the
shot, a fashion now by them disused.
R
130
SHIP-BUILDING.
History.
Rise of
Dutch na¬
val power.
Evelyn’s
Navigation
and Com¬
merce.
Charles I.
Charles II.
His per¬
sonal at¬
tention to
ship-build,
ing and
naval af¬
fairs.
“ The French, however dexterous in land-battles, are
left-handed in sea-fights, whose best ships are of Dutch
building. The Dutch build their ships so floaty and buoyant,
they have little hold in the water in comparison to ours,
which keep the better winde, and so outsail them.
“ The Spanish pride hath infected their ships with lofti¬
ness, which makes them but the fairer markes to our shot.
Besides the winde hath so much power of them in bad
weather, so that it drives them two leagues for one of
ours to the leeward, which is very dangerous upon a lee-
shore.
“ Indeed the Turkish frigots, especially some thirty-six
of Algier, formed and built much nearer the English mode,
and manned by renegadoes, many of them English, being
already too nimble heel’d for the Dutch, may hereafter
prove mischievous to us, if not seasonably prevented.”
During the early part of the seventeenth century, the
Dutch navy rapidly increased in importance. Their suc¬
cess in having wrested from the Portuguese a share of the
commerce of the east, emboldened them, in the then de¬
pressed state of the Spanish marine, to make a similar at¬
tempt on the west, and endeavour to establish settlements
in South America.
The wars with Spain, in which they were consequently
engaged, had such an important effect in establishing their
maritime power, that in 1650 their navy consisted of 120
vessels fitted for war, seventy of which had two tiers of
guns; and their fleet was in all respects the most efficient
in Europe.
Evelyn, in his tract on Navigation and Commerce, speak¬
ing of the fisheries, says “ Holland and Zeeland alone
should, from a few despicable boats, be able to set forth
above 20,000 vessels of all sorts, fit for the rude seas, of
which more than 7000 are yearly employed upon this oc¬
casion. ’Tis evident that by this particular trade they are
able to breed above 40,000 fishermen and 116,000 mari¬
ners, as the census (1639) has been accurately calculated.”
The tremendous struggle in which they were enabled by
these means to engage with us shortly after this period, in
consequence of the injurious operation of the navigation act
on their commerce, had a most influential effect on the
improvement of our navy, which at the commencement of
the contest was very unequal to that of the Dutch ; and it
is probable that this war was the means of enabling us to
contend triumphantly against the immense and unexpected
attempts of Louis XIV. to wrest the sceptre of the seas
from our grasp.
The sovereigns of the house of Stuart, without excep¬
tion, appear to have devoted much attention to the improve¬
ment of the navy. Charles I. may be almost said to have
lost both crown and life in consequence of these efforts;
nor would it be doing justice to Cromwell to omit mention
of the energy with which he took advantage of the all but
despotic power which he possessed to increase his naval
force. For this purpose not only many ships were built
during the protectorate, but numbers of merchant-vessels
were bought for the service of the state.
After the Restoration, Charles II. paid great personal
attention even to the minutiae of his navy, as shown by the
following curious extract from a letter of his to Prince
Rupert, preserved in the state-papers, and also by con¬
tinual references to his naval predilections in Evelyn’s and
Pepys’s memoirs and writings. The letter is dated 4th
August 1673. It says, “ I am very glad the Charles does
so well; a gerdeling this winter when she comes in will
make her the best ship in England ; next summer, I believe,
if you try the two sloops that were builte at Woolidge that
have my invention in them, they will outsail any of the
French sloops. Sir Samuel Mooreland has now another
fancy about weighing anchors ; and the resident of Venice
has made a model also to the same purpose. We have
not yet consulted them with Mr Tippet nor Mr Deane ; History
but hope when they are well considered, we may find one ^
out of them that will be good.” Sir Antho-
In Pepys’s Diary, 19th May 1666, there is the following ny Deane,
notice relating to one of the gentlemen mentioned in the
above letter:—“ Mr Deane and I did discourse about his
ship the Rupert, which succeeds so well, as he has got great
honor by it, and I some by recommending him. The king,
duke, and everybody, say it is the best ship that was ever
built. And then he fell to explain to me his manner of
casting the draught of water which a ship will draw before¬
hand, which is a secret the king and all admire in him ; and
he is the first that hath come to any certainty beforehand
of foretelling the draught of water of a ship before she be pirst ap-
launched.” This gentleman appears therefore to have been plication of
the first who applied mathematical science to naval archi- mathema-
tecture in this country. Pepys also says, “ another great calcu-
step and improvement to our navy, put in practice by cur naval ar_
Anthony Deane,” was effected in the Warspight and chitecture,
Defiance, which were “to carry six months’ provisions,
and their guns to lie 4| feet from the water.” This was
in 1665.
The foregoing extract probably indicates the date of the
first practical application to a useful purpose in this country
of the famous discovery of Archimedes. It is well known
that he was called upon by his king to test the purity or the
adulteration of the gold of the royal crown, and the dis¬
placement of the water of his bath by his own immersion
therein suggested to his mind the means of solving the
problem. He saw that a body immersed in water displaced
its own bulk of water, and after this the knowledge followed
that a body floating in a fluid displaced its own weight of
that fluid. If the weight of the body, therefore, was
known, the quantity of water which it would displace could
immediately be calculated, and the depth to which it would
sink be found.
In this historical sketch the probability that the mer- gir Robert
chant-shipping of England were superior in their sea-going Slingeby.
qualities to those composing the royal navy, has been ad¬
verted to in a Discourse touching the Past and Present
State of the Navy, by Sir Robert Slingeby, knight-baronet,
and comptroller of the navy, dated 1669, there is the
following interesting statement, which points to a reason
why this superiority of the merchant-shipping may have
existed. “ But since these late distractions began at home” Decay of
(the Commonwealth), “ forraigne trade decayed, and mer- mercantile
chants so discouraged from building, that there hath been navy dur-
scarce one good merchant-ship built these twenty years past, ing the
and of what were then in being, either by decayes or acci-
dent, there are very few or none remaining. The merchants
have found their private conveniences in being convoyed
att the publick charge; they take noe care of making
defence for themselves if a warr should happen.” Yet he its subse-
says, in the time of Charles L, “ the merchants continued quent im-
their trade during the wars with France and Spain, if there Provement-
could but two or three consort together, not caring who
they met,” they being little inferior in strength or burthen
to the ships of the royal navy.
About 1684 Sir Richard Haddock, comptroller of the gir Rich-
navy, adopted the recommendation of Mr, afterwards Sir ard Had-
Anthony Deane, at that time surveyor of the navy, and dock,
directed an inquiry to be made as to “ the number of cube ana_
feet that are contained in the bodyes of several draughts iySi8 0f the
to their main water-line, when all materialls are on board royal navy,
fitt for saileing.” The result of this inquiry was a very
voluminous statement of the weights which made up the
whole displacement of the fourth, fifth, and sixth rate ships,
including minute details of their masts, yards, armament,
&c., accompanied by perfect drawings of each ship. The
following table contains the dimensions and displacements.
&c., of each class:—
History.
James II,
The Re¬
volution.
William
III.
Louis
XIV.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Table of Dimensions, from a Manuscript dated 1684.
Lengthen the gun-deck from the rabbitt)
of the stem to the rabbitt of the post J
Maine breadth to the outside of the )
outboard planke J
Depth in hold from the seeling to the )
upper side of the beame J
Breadth at the afte side of the maine
transome 
Height on the gun-deck from ( af°re" 
planke to planke  ) midships...
(, abafte .....
mast from the (
planke to planke
The center
ore.... 1
of the. ■) maine-- >• rabbitt of the {
"*■ (, mizion. J stern  {
Draft of water  / afore<--'
  ( abaft...
Number of tuns, tunage 
Number of men (in warr) 
Number of guns 
Cube feet in the several draughts to 1
their main water line J
Weight of each ship’s hull, and all man- \
ner of materials on board J
Each ship’s hull at first launching  
Burthen in tuns, what she will really |
carry  r
No. of months’ provisions and water 
lA First Fourth-
rate near the
largest dimen¬
sions.
A Second
Fourth-rate
near the dimen¬
sions of the Ad¬
venture.
A Fifth-rate
of the largest
dimensions.
Feet. In.
124 6
35 0
14 0
21 0
5 9
6 0
6 6
13 6
69 0
102 0
14 6
15 10
885
260
50
29,814
Ts. cwt. qr.
851 16 2
418 0 0
433 16 2
4
Feet. In.
116 6
32 9
13 2
18 4
6
6
6
12
62 0
96 9
13 6
15 0
580
180
44
22,346
Ts. cwt. qr. lb.
638 9 0 16
314 0 0 0
324 9 0 16
3
Feet. In.
103 9
28 8
11 4
18 0
5 9
6 0
6 7
9 10
54 6
84 0
12 0
13 0
362
135
34
13,195
Ts. cwt. qr. lb.
377 0 0 3
160 000
216 0 0 0
3
A First Sixth-
rate.
Feet. In.
87 8
23 6
10 9
14 0
5 7
6 3
7 6
45 0
71 0
9 8
10 8
85
24
8906
Ts. cwt. qr. lb.
254 9 0 16
120 0 0 0
134 9‘ 0 16
2
A Second Sixth-
rate.
Feet. In.
70 0
21 6
9 10
13 0
5 6
6 2
6 6
36 0
57 0
8 6
9 6
70
18
6790
Ts. cwt. qr. lb.
194 0 0 0
98 0 0 0
A Sixth-
rate of the
largest di¬
mensions.
A Sixth-
rate of
the old
fashion.
Feet. In.
92 6
23 6
11 9
14 0
10 0
50 0
73 0
10 0
11 0
230
90
22
Ts.
135
Feet. In.
93 0
22 9
10 0
15 0
9 6
49 6
74 0
8 0
9 0
220
29
24
Ts.
130
James II., from having so long and so gloriously filled
the office of Lord High Admiral while Duke of York, was
perfectly aware of the requirements of the navy; and during
his short reign he paid great attention to increasing its effi¬
ciency. He also especially directed inquiries into the
question of the durability of timber for the construction of
it, and carefully accumulated both materials and stores for
its maintenance. It is not a little curious that it was pro¬
bably the attention which the monarchs of the line of
Stuart had bestowed on the naval service, which enabled
it so triumphantly to resist the persevering attempts of
Louis XIV. to recover for them the throne of their an¬
cestors.
-Though England was at the Revolution possessed of an
efficient fleet, manned by experienced seamen, who had all
the confidence arising from a series of naval triumphs, it
must be remembered that for a long period no opposition
to her naval superiority had been anticipated from any other
power than Holland ; and consequently the fleets of England
were composed of ships which had many of them been built
to adapt them to this service, for which small dimensions
and light draughts of water were essential qualifications, on
account of the shoalness of the Dutch coast.
William was too cautious a monarch to have neglected
so important a means of national defence as was the navy,
when engaged with such an ambitious and energetic oppo¬
nent as Louis XIV.; and we find that the naval force was
considerably increased, both numerically and in dimensions,
during his reign. But the triumphs of our armies under
Marlborough having for a time diverted the attention of the
nation from naval affairs, it fell into decay during the reign
of his successor.
When Louis XIV. determined to dispute with England
the sovereignty of the seas, he was not only without a navy,
but without the means of forming one. The military and
commercial marine of France had ceased to exist. The
sanguine temperament of the monarch, and the wisdom of
his minister Colbert, removed all obstacles; commerce
began to flourish on the quays, merchant-vessels to crowd
the ports ; dockyards, harbours, and shipping appeared Rise of
simultaneously to start into existence; and the nation,French na-
which almost for centuries had been essentially military,val Power-
felt constrained to turn its energies to commerce and to
the sea. A navy which, in 1661;, consisted of some four or
five small vessels, in little more than ten years bearded and
baffled the combined fleets of Holland and of Spain, and
asserted the sovereignty of the Mediterranean. In 1681
her fleets consisted of 115 line-of-battle ships, manned by
36,440 men, with 179 smaller ships, the crews of which
amounted to 3037 men ; and in 1690 a fleet of eighty-four
vessels of war, out of which three were of a hundred guns
and upwards, and ten others were above eighty-four guns,
with twenty-two fire ships, was cruising in the British seas.
It is true that these mighty armaments failed in fulfilling
the ambitious designs of Louis. But the severity of the
struggle, which at length ended in the annihilation of his
hopes, and in our triumphant assertion of our naval supe¬
riority, must always serve as an example of the danger we
may incur by too great confidence in that superiority.
The following comparison between the French and Bri- Compari-
tish ships of about this period, is from an official contem- son be-
porary paper, by a gentleman of the name of Gibson :— tween
“ Our guns being for the most part shorter, are made to p8h
carry more shott than a French gunn of like weight, there'ghjps reDC
fore the French guns reach further, and ours make a bigger
hole. By this the French has the advantage to fight at a
distance and wee yard-arm to yard-arm. The like advan¬
tage wee have over them in shipping; although they are
broader and carry a better saile, our sides are thicker, and
better able to receive their shott; by this they are more
subject to be sunk by gunn shott than wee.”
The paper also complains much of the injudicious ma- r ■ r •
nagement of our shipping, by which it says, “ many a fast manage-0US
sayling shipp have come to loose that property, by being ment of
over-masted, over-rigged, over-gunned (as the Constant royal navy.
Warwick, from twenty-six gunns, and an incomparable
sayler, to forty-six gunns and a slugg), over-manned (vide
all the old shipps built in the parliament time now left),
132
History.
Lord Rod¬
ney.
Cause of
inferiority
of English
ships.
SHIP-BUILDING.
over-built [vide the Ruby and Assurance), and haveing
great tafferills, gallarys, &c., to the making many formerly
a stiff, now a tender-sided shipp, bringing thereby their
head and tuck to lye too low in the water, and by it takeing
away their former good property, in steering, sayling, &c.
The French by this defect of ours make war with the
sword (by sending no small shipps of warr to sea, but clean),
and wee, by cruseing in fleetes, or single shipps foule, with
bare threates.”
In a letter from Sir George (afterwards Lord) Rodney,
dated the 31st May 1780, to Mr Stephens, the secretary of
the Admiralty, is a passage which goes to prove the truth
of the above statement. “ Nothing could induce them (the
French fleet) to risk a general action, though it was in their
power daily. They made, at different times, motions which
indicated a desire of engaging, but their resolution failed
them when they drew near; and as they sailed far better
than his majesty’s fleet, they with ease could gain what dis¬
tance they pleased to windward.”
One great cause of the inferiority of our ships arose from
the practice which prevailed during the first half of the
eighteenth century, through a mistaken idea of economy,
of “ rebuilding” old ships, without reference to the opinions
An Account showing the Dimensions established, or proposed to be established, at different times, for Building of Ships.
Extracted from Derricks Memoirs of the Roycil Navy.
of practical men, so that the forms and dimensions of the History,
previous century passed down, in many instances, into the
succeeding one, and justice was not done to the ship¬
building knowledge of the surveyors.
The French system of improvement was followed by the French
Spaniards, and the capture of the Princessa, in 1740, of system fol-
70 guns, 165 feet in length, and 49 feet 8 inches in breadth, 1°w®d by
when our ships of the same force then building were bPain-
only 151 feet long and 43 feet 6 inches broad, caused an
appeal to be made by the Admiralty to Admiral Sir John Improve-
Norris. The surveyors of the navy of that date who had sue- ’L
ceeded Sir A. Deane were men of no note, because no op- the Ad_ y
portunity of showing their powers had been allowed them, miralty.
In consequence of the inquiries then made, the several
master-shipwrights of the dockyards were directed to send
in proposals for the future established, dimensions of the
navy; and, in 1745, Sir Jacob Attwood being surveyor of
the navy, the Admiralty issued a new establishment for the
dimensions of the several ratings of ships. The following
table, taken from Derrick’s Memoirs of the Royal Navy,
contains the various established alterations from time to
time, from the reign of Charles II. to this of 1745, which
was the last:—
Establishment of
Ships of 100 Guns.
Length on the gun-deck  
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold  
Burthen in tons  
90.
Length on the gun-deck   
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme ,....
Depth in hold  
Burthen in tons 
80.
Length on the gun-deck  
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold   
Burthen in tons 
70.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme   
Depth in hold   
Burthen in tons 
60.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme  
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
50.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage.,
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
40.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage.
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold  
Burthen in tons 
20.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage.
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons  
1677.
Ft. In.
165 0
137 8
46 0
19 2
1550
158 0
44 0
18 2
1307
150 0
39 8
17 0
1013
1691.
Ft. In.
156 0
41 0
17 4
1100
1706.
Ft. In.
144 0
37 6
15 8
900
162 0
132 0
47 0
18 6
1551
156 0
127 6
43 .6
17 8
1283
150 0
122 0
41 0
17 4
1069
144 0
119 0
38 0
15 8
914
130 0
108 0
35 0
14 0
704
118 0
97 6
32 0
13 6
531
1719.
Proposed in
1733.
Ft. In.
174 0
140 7
50 0
20 0
1869
164 0
132 5
47 2
18 10
1566
158 0
128 2
44 6
18 2
1350
151 0
123 2
41 6
17 4
1128
144 6
117 7
39 0
16 5
951
134 0
109 8
36 0
15 2
755
124 0
101 8
33 2
14 0
594
106 0
87 9
28 4
9 2
374
Ft. In.
174 0
140 7
50 0
20 6
1869
166 0
134 1
47 9
19 6
1623
158 0
127 8
45 5
18 7
1400
151 0
122 0
43 5
17 9
1224
144 0
116 4
41 5
16 11
1068
134 0
108 3
38 6
15 9
853
124 0
100 3
35 8
14 6
678
106 0
85 8
30 6
9 5
429
1711.
Ft. In.
175 0
142 4
50 0
21 0
1892
168 0
137 0
48 0
20 2
1679
161 0
130 10
46 0
19 4
1472
154 0
125 5
44 0
18 11
1291
147 0
119 9
42 0
18 1
1123
140 0
113 9
40 0
17 24
968
126 0
102 6
36 0
15 5£
706
112 0
91 6
32 0
11 0
498
Establish¬
ment of
1745.
Ft. In.
178 0
144 64
51 0
21 6
2000
170 0
138 4
48 6
20 6
1730
165 0
134 lOf
47 0
20 0
1585
160 0
131 4
45 0
19 4
1414
150 0
123 04
42 8
18 6
1191
144 0
117 8£
41 0
17 8
1052
133 0
108 10
37 6
16 0
814
113 0
93 4
32 0
11 0
508
V
History,
Royal
George.
Triumph
and Va¬
liant.
SHIP-BUILDING.
The ships built after the establishment of 1745 are re-
/ ported to have been stiff, and to have carried their guns
well, but were still inferior to those of the French; and,
consequently, about ten years afterwards an alteration was
made in the draughts for the several ratings, and the di¬
mensions were also slightly increased. It may not be un¬
interesting to remark, that the proportional breadths in the
establishment of 1745 considerably exceeded those of more
modern ships. Their length varied from 3'49 to 3-85 of
their breadth ; while the lengths of most of our line-of-battle
ships, built shortly afterwards, are within the limits of 3‘61
and 3'83 of their breadths.
The Royal George was the first ship built on the in¬
creased dimensions, which were the result of the before-
mentioned inquiry. She was laid down in 1746, and
launched in 1756; and rather more than ten years after¬
wards, that is, in 1758, Thomas Slade and William Bateley
being the surveyors of the navy, the Triumph and Valiant
of /4 guns were built on the lines of the Invincible, a
French 74 gun-ship, captured in 1747.
The dimensions of these ships are given below, as they
were manifestations of an improved system, which, however,
was not persevered in ; for, with the exception of occasion¬
ally building after a French or Spanish model, the English
ships were scarcely altered from those built at the com¬
mencement of the century.
133
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the kee], for tonnage.
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
Royal
George.
feet. In.
178 0
143 5*
51 9£
21 6
2047
Triumph
and Valiant.
Feet. In.
171 3
138 8
49 9
21 3
1826
There was still a very essential distinction between the History
navy of England and of either France or Spain, which ^ ■-
was this, that until after 1763 neither of these nations had Grand dis-
any three-deckers in their fleets. Their largest armament tinction be-
appears to have been eighty-four guns on two decks, while tween
we had third-rates which were three-deckers, as the Cam-Englisb.
bridge and Princess Amelia, launched in 1754 and 1757^ ancl foreiSQ
and carrying only eighty-four guns, our naval officers 0fnavies’
that period having advocated a high battery, and the naval
architects having designed some very fine ships of this new
class. 1 he capture of the Foudroyant, a French eighty-four
on two decks, in 1758, caused a change in this respect,
y ui nishing the English with a model for a very superior
class of men-of-war, which was adopted. Derrick, in his
Memoirs of the Royal Navy, says, that “ no eighty-gun
ship with three decks was built after the year 1757, no
seventy-gun ship after 1766, nor any sixty-gun ship after
During the peace that preceded the war with America, Prench-
wlnch commenced in the year 1768, the French had in-built three-
troduced three-deckers into their fleets, having found their deckers,
eighty-fours on two decks to be no match for the more
powerful of our three-deckers. Their first-rates were at
this time generally of 110 guns on three decks. The Bre-
tagne, one of these ships, was, according to Charnock,
196 feet 3 inches long on the water-line; and her moulded
breadth was 53 feet 4 inches. Her displacement, it is
stated in Sewell’s Collection of Papers on Naval Archi¬
tecture, was 4640 English tons.
In 1786 the establishment of the French fleet was fixed Establish-
by an ordinance of the government, as according to the fol- ment of
lowing table, which is extracted from Charnock, and some French
very fine vessels of each class were built upon these dimen-fleets*
sions:—
Length from head to stern 
Breadth from outside to out- {
side of the frame J
Depth in hold 
Draught of water abaft when ]
light  /
Draught of water forward 1
when light j
Draught of water abaft when 1
laden,
Draught of water forward 1
Total weight of the ship and^
stores when victualled and I
furnished for a six months’ |
Weight of the hull and masts...
Ships of 120
Guns.
Feet. In.
196 6
50 0
25 0
17 6
14 0
25 0
22 8
Tons.
5246
2500
Ships of 110
Guns.
Feet.
186—185
49 6 in
24 6
17 4
13 8
24 8
22 2
Tons.
4910
2400
Ships of 80
Guns.
Feet.
184—180
48 0 in
23 9
17 0
12 0
22 6
21 0
Tons.
3825
1804
Ships of 74
Guns.
Ships of 64
Guns.
Feet. In.
170 0
44 6
22 0
15 8
10 10
21 6
19 10
Tons.
3548£
1437
Feet. In.
156 0
41 0
20 0
14 6
11 1
19 9
18 9
Tons.
2300
1120
Frigates
carrying 18
Pounders.
Feet, In.
144 0
36 6
18 0
12 6
8 7
16 0
15 2
Tons.
1479
665
leorge III. The ships of England continued throughout the wars of
md George the reign of George III. inferior to those of France and
fepain. The skill ot our commanders, and the indomitable
courage of our seamen, eventually succeeded in these, as
in all former contests, in annihilating opposition, and in
triumphantly asserting our naval supremacy. It cannot
e enied that their task would have been comparatively
easy, accompanied with less loss of life and expenditure of
treasure, had their ships been more upon a par with those
eir opponents. The French officers, however, Rafter
e war, to save their vanity, attributed our successes at
f ther suPeriority of our ships, and they commenced
building after our models.
Although so much attention appears to have been directed
various times to the improvement of the navy, not only
Frigates
carrying 12
Pounders.
Feet. In.
136 0
34 6
17 6
11 3
8 6
15 4
13 9
Tons.
1162
583
Corvettes
of 20 Guns.
Advice-
boats, car¬
rying four
4 Pounders.
Feet. In.
112 0
28
14
9
8 5
13 3
11 9
Tons,
546
266
Feet. In.
80 0
24 0
12 0
8 4
8 0
11 6
10 0
Tons.
266
141
by the servants of the crown officially connected with it, Reasons for
but by the sovereigns themselves, we have seen that an the con-
inferiority of our ships in sailing to those of our opponents tinued in-
has been repeatedly asserted on undoubted testimony. The fer.i°rity of
reason that all the attention thus bestowed failed in pro- Er.ltls;h
ducing a corresponding beneficial effect appears to have8 iw>ing"
been that in England the speculative ideas of men, un¬
doubtedly of sense and judgment, as may be seen from the
quotations of their opinions which have been given, but
men uninformed as to principles, were taken as the rules
for guidance. In France, on the contrary, the aid of
science was called in, and some of the greatest mathema¬
ticians of the time turned their attention to the improve¬
ment of the shipping of that country, and worked harmoni¬
ously with the naval officers who were to use the ships, as
134
SHIP-BUILDING.
ignorance.
Razee of
the Anson.
History, well as with the practical men who were to construct them,
modifying their theories by the practice and experience of
the others. Colbert employed an engineer ot the name
of Renau d’Elisagary, a protege of the Count de Verman-
dois, whose first essay was in the adaptation of ships to
carry bombs, to be used in the then projected armament
against the piratical states of the Mediterranean. Under the
enlightened direction of Colbert, the French ships which,
by the ordinance of 1688, were much restricted in dimen¬
sions, were increased nearly one-fourth in size, and every
means taken which the then state of knowledge could sug¬
gest to insure a proportionate improvement in their qua¬
lities ; while a corresponding increase in size was not made
in English ships till the commencement of the energetic
surveyorship of Sir William Symonds in 1830, Renau
was, we believe, the first French author who wrote on the
theory of ships. He was followed by the Bernoullis, by
Pere La Hoste, by Bouguer, Euler, Don Jorje Juan,
Romme, and a host of others, the effects of whose writings
may be traced in the progress of the improvements intro¬
duced into the navies of France and Spain, and which the
navy ofEngland was forced to imitate. The only English
treatise of that period on ship-building that can lay any claim
to a scientific character was published by Mungo Murray in
1754 ; and he, though his conduct was irreproachable, lived
and died a working shipwright in Deptford dock-yard.
Instance of A palpable instance of the ignorance or neglect of all the
principles of naval architecture among the authorities who
were charged with designing our royal navy, even up to
the close of the last century, may be quoted from an arti¬
cle in the Papers on Naval Architecture, as given by Mr
Wilson then of the Admiralty.
Mr Wilson, speaking of the cutting down of the Anson,
a sixty-four-gun ship, to a frigate of thirty-eight guns, says,
“ she was cut down in the year 1794 ; and although in all
other maritime states the science of naval construction was
well understood, yet so culpably ignorant were the English
constructors, that this operation, so well calculated, when
properly conducted, to produce a good ship, was a complete
failure. Seven feet of the upper part of the top sides, to¬
gether with a deck and guns, making about 160 tons, were
removed, by which her stability was greatly increased ; but,
by a complete absurdity, the sails were reduced one-sixth
in area. In her first voyage the rolling was so excessive
that she sprung several sets of top-masts. To mitigate this
evil, in 1795, her masts and yards were increased to their
original size; but as there were no decrease of ballast, she
was still a very uneasy ship, and, as a necessary result, her
wear and tear were excessive.
“ Other sixty-fours were cut down, masted, and ballasted
in exactly the same manner, and, it need scarcely be added,
experienced similar misfortunes; and although they were
improved by enlarging their masts and yards, they were
still bad ships. Had their transformations been scienti¬
fically conducted, a class of frigates would have been con¬
tinued in the navy, capable, from their size, of coping
with the large American frigates; and thus the disasters
we experienced in the late war, from the superior force of
that nation, would, without doubt, have been not merely
avoided, but turned into occurrences of a quite opposite
character.”
The subject, however, of the improvementof ship-building
was by no means lost sight of in this country at that period.
The investigations and experiments which were made were,
as usual in England in comparison with France and other
continental nations, more of a practical than of a theoretical
nature. Attwood’s papers, read before the Royal Society
in 1796 and 1798, form almost a solitary exception to this
remark. In 1785, and subsequent years, Mr Miller of
Improve¬
ments in
naval ar¬
chitecture
in this
country.
Dalswinton, in Dumfriesshire, made many experiments, ex- History,
pending as much as L.30,000 of his own private fortune for
the advancement of naval architecture. In 1788 he was
induced, by a Mr Taylor, to allow Symington, a working-
engineer, to place a steam-engine on board a pleasure-boat
on his lake at Dalswinton, for the purpose of propelling it
by a paddle-wheel, and he thus became the originator of
steam-navigation.1
In 1791, “a Society for the Improvement of Naval Beaufoy’s
Architecture” was instituted, mainly by the exertions of exPeri-
Colonel Beaufoy. This society numbered amongst itsmenfcs-
members the then Duke of Clarence, afterwards William
IV., and many noblemen and gentlemen of great influence.
They conducted a most valuable series of experiments be¬
tween 1793 and 1798, but a first report only of the results
was ever published by the society. The funds at their
disposal became exhausted, and the experiments were thus
terminated, the interest of the public having flagged on
account of the necessarily tedious nature of the proceedings.
A detailed account of the whole of the experiments was
subsequently published, in a most patriotic spirit, by Mr
Henry Beaufoy, at his own private expense, and presented
gratuitously to scientific societies and parties connected
with naval architecture. Some valuable practical results
were deduced from them, and these will be discussed here¬
after, when treating of the resistances and other qualities of
differently formed vessels.
At the commencement of the present century the mer- Increase of
chant-shipping of this country had increased to such an merchant-
extent as to be of great importance. From the returns
prepared by the Registrar-General of the Board of Trade,
the total number of British merchant-vessels in the year
1801 was 19,711, with an aggregate registered tonnage of
2,038,253 tons, employing 149,766 men. In 1811 the
total number of merchant-vessels was 24,106, with an
aggregate registered tonnage of 2,474,784 tons, employing
162,547 men.
In the Honourable East India Company’s service there East India
were at this period 67 ships, each carrying 30 to 38 guns, Company’s
31 ships of 20 to 28 guns, and 52 ships of 10 to 19 guns, 8hlPP1Dg-
thus forming a powerful addition to the warlike resources
of the country. Additional attention was also attracted to
the subject of ship-building in the early part of this century
by the institution of the Royal Yacht Club. It was joined
by many influential and wealthy noblemen and gentlemen,
and they gave much encouragement to the production of
superior fast-sailing yachts.
Another important effort to improve the scientific know- School of
ledge of naval architecture, was the establishment, in 1811, -N"a:val At'
of a school for naval architecture in Her Majesty’s Dockyard poru-*
at Portsmouth. This school was the result of the state- mouth,
ments and recommendations contained in the report of a
commission of naval revision, appointed in 1806, to examine
into the management of the dockyards. The commissioners
found that the practice of permitting the master shipwrights
and their assistants to take private apprentices, receiving
high fees with them, had been at that time disallowed and
discontinued. By this system young men of superior early
education, and of superior standing to the ordinary ship¬
wright apprentices, had been trained in the higher branches
of the profession, and their further scientific and theoretical
education had been attended to, while at the same time
they had acquired a knowledge of practical shipbuilding
by being employed amongst the workmen. The commis¬
sioners therefore considered it expedient that some means
should be adopted to supply the future demand for such
men to fill those higher civil situations in which scientific
knowledge is indispensable for the due performance of the
duties. The school was accordingly instituted, but upon
1 Sketch of the Origin and Progress of Steam Navigation, Bennet Woodcroft, 1848.
SHIP-BUILDING.
History, so large a scale, and with so little consideration of the real
requirements of the service, that in a very few years 42
students were educated there, while the whole number of
places in the Admiralty service, requiring such education
and training, did not exceed 25 or 26. The necessary re¬
sult of this was, that they were put into inferior positions
for which their previous standing and training had not
adapted them, and the school was considered to have been
a failure. Much increase, however, of sound scientific
knowledge resulted from the labours of the principal of the
school, the late Dr Inman, though it may be remarked
135
that he confined his labours to too limited a sphere, and Hidtory.
did not follow out the investigations of the French mathe-
maticians. Many valuable papers on naval architecture
have also been published by different members of the
school, and the article Ship-building, in the previous edition
of this work, and from which much of the present article
is taken, was written by the late Mr Creuze, one of its most
talented and distinguished members.
The following table, taken from the navy list of 1813,
will show the force of the royal navy at that period, distin¬
guishing the number of ships in each class :—
Extent and Disposition of the British Naval Force in 1813.
Stations.
Line.
Downs 
North Sea and Baltic 
English Channel and coast of France..
Irish station 
Jersey, Guernsey, &c 
Spain, Portugal, and Gibraltar 
Mediterranean and on passage 
Coast of Africa 
Halifax, Newfoundland, &c 
nr- j. t j- f Leeward Islands,  
West Indies 1 T . ,
( J amaica and on passage
South America..... 
Cape of Good Hope and southward 
East Indies and on passage 
Total at sea   
In port and fitting 
Guard-ships   
Hospital ships, prison ships, &c.
Total in commission 
Ordinary, and repairing for service.
Building   
Totals.
4
12
15
0
0
15
27
0
9
2
5
4
1
4
98
24
5
32
159
72
28
259
50-44
Frigates.
12
9
1
1
23
11
4
38
1
8
16
5
1
11
33
0
23
10
11
8
3
16
146
24
4
3
177
80
25
282
Sloops
and
Yachts.
4
5
15
3
0
6
10
1
13
8
7
7
3
3
85
21
5
2
111
37
9
157
Bombs,
Fire¬
ships.
11
Brigs.
20
50
23
5
2
14
26
0
23
6
8
4
2
4
187
25
0
0
212
12
7
Cutters.
5
11
7
1
2
4
1
0
1
2
0
0
0
0
34
9
0
0
231
43
1
0
44
Schooners,
Gun-ves.,
Lug., &c.
6
9
13
7
2
1
2
0
6
4
0
2
0
0
52
9
0
0
61
3
0
64
Total.
40
100
89
21
7
53
106
1
77
33
32
24
9
27
619
121
15
38
793
220
73
1086
In 1832 the Navy Board was abolished, and it was de¬
termined to place the construction of ships under one
head, continuing the name of surveyor of the navy, but
altering the nature of the office by the appointment of a
naval officer instead of a naval architect and ship-builder.
Captain (afterwards Rear-Admiral Sir) William Symonds
was the officer selected. He had early distinguished him¬
self amongst his brother-officers by the attention he had
paid to the sailing properties of boats and vessels. It was
said of him that he could take any one of the boats in turn,
of the vessel to which he was attached, and make her beat
any of the others. His habit of observing the peculiarities
of the different ships, whose properties he had an oppor¬
tunity of witnessing, led him to draw certain conclusions
respecting the forms of vessels; and, while holding a civil
appointment in Malta, he built a yacht called the Nancy
Dawson, in accordance with these preconceived views.
The great speed of this yacht gained him notoriety, and
procured for him the patronage and support of several in¬
fluential and patriotic noblemen. Through their influence
he obtained the sanction of the Board of Admiralty to build
a corvette, the Columbine, and as this vessel was very
favourably reported of, his character as a designer was
proportionally raised. These successes led to his appoint¬
ment as surveyor of the navy. It is not proposed here to
discuss the propriety or otherwise of this office being filled
by a naval officer, though in Sir William Symonds’ case it
led to important changes in the construction of the ships of
the royal navy, and to much acrimony of feeling on the
part of the shipwright officers of the service. One point is
quite certain, that no man can be qualified to control the
different forms of the various classes of ships, more espe¬
cially of new classes that may be required in the navy,
without long and careful study of the subject of naval
architecture, both practically and theoretically. It is equally
certain that a naval officer of experience is the most com¬
petent judge of the general proportions and qualities of the
ships that will be most useful in the service, and that he is
best able to point out the faults at sea of any ships that have
been tested, so as to lead to the correction of these faults,
and the improvement of future ships.
Sir William Symonds was the first constructor of the
English navy who was left unrestricted as to dimensions,
and he was consequently enabled to introduce into the ser¬
vice ships which undoubtedly bear very high characters as
men-of-war. He also practically demonstrated the possi¬
bility of ships of war obtaining sufficient stability without
the aid of ballast—a very important advantage, and one
which has been productive of much benefit. He was in
error, however, as to the true principles on which the sta¬
bility of floating bodies is dependent, in order to secure as
great freedom from rolling and as great ease of motion as
possible. His ships had great statical stability, and there¬
fore great power of carrying sail, and hence were generally
very successful in trials of speed in sailing. But this ad¬
vantage was not obtained without, in many instances, in¬
curring a compensating disadvantage from uneasiness of
motion. This appears to have been a very general fault in
ships of his construction, some of them being marked ex¬
amples of the uneasiness attendant on a stability which
depends almost wholly on breadth at the load-water section
and above it, to the neglect of the form of the solids of
136
SHIP-BUILDING.
History, immersion and emersion. His ships, however, were very
Vs—general favourites in the service amongst the officers in
command of them, who in their reports made light of any
faults, and bore any personal inconvenience and want of
comfort cheerfully and willingly, on account of the speed
of their ships and their success in the sailing matches.
The country is much indebted to Sir William Symonds for
many improvements which he introduced into the navy,
especially at the commencement of his tenure of office.
He failed, however, to keep pace with the improvements of
his time, his want of scientific education and of enlarged
views rendering him unable to go beyond or apply to
steamers, or any new class of vessels, the ideas which he
had imbibed in his earlier years, and to which he adhered
with a pertinacity amounting to obstinacy.
The following table contains the dimensions of the
various classes of ships which Sir William Symonds in¬
troduced into the British navy, as well as of one or two
other English ships built to compete with those of his
construction. The dimensions according to which the
ships of the French navy were at that time built are also
given:—
History.
Dimensions of English Ships of War at the period when Sir W. Symonds was Surveyor of the Navy.
Names of Ships and of their Designers.
First Rate.
^ Queen j
 {
Second Rate.
Vanguard.
Third Rate.
Boscawen.
Vernon
Pique ,.
Fourth Rate.
Fifth Rate.
Sixth Rate.
Vestal 
Carysfort   
Corvettes.
Rover 
Calypso 
Brigs.
Columbine 
Serpent 
Racer 
V Pantaloon  
London 'j     
I Sir Robert Seppings 
Castor J  
Inconstant, Admiral Hayes 
Modeste, Admiral Hon. G. Elliot 
Orestes'6 } ^ro^essor Inman.
110 on |
3 decks J
80 on 2 1
decks, j
70 on 2 1
decks. J
50
36
26
26
18
18
16
16
16
16
92 on
decks
36
36
18
28
18
2}
Length of
Gun-Deck.
Feet. Inch.
204 0
190 0
180 0
176 0
160 0
130 0
130 0
113
120
105
102
100
91 10
205 6
0
0
0i
5
8
159
166
120
119
109 11
Keel for
Tonnage.
Feet. Inch.
166 5
155 3
146 8
144 6£
131 0
105 9
106 10
90
99
84 0
79 10
78
71
170
133
133
98
100
92 10i
7
5 »
7
74
Extreme
Breadth.
Depth in
Hold.
Feet. Inch. Feet. Inch.
60 0 23 9
56
54 0
52
48
40
40
35
37
33
32
32
29
54
43
45
32
33
30
8
71
0
5
6
64
3
AS
4
Borden in
Tons.
23
22
17 1
14 6
10
10
16
18
7
15
6
6
9
0
11
0
14 10
12 8
23 2
13
13
7
8
7
6
7
11
0
6
3099
2589
2212
2082
1622
913
911
590
731
492
434
431
323
2598
1283
1422
562
605
459
Dimensions of French Ships of War, as being built in 1837.
Number of Guns.
Length on gun-deck between rabbets.
Moulded breadth 
I" forward 
Draught of water, < aft 
t mean 
Load, displacement in tons 
Line-of-Battle.
120
Feet. Inch.
209 5
55 3f
24 Ilf
26 8f
25 lOJ
4940
100
Feet. Inch.
205 0£
54 114
23 101
26 04
24 114
4393
90
Feet. Inch.
198 6
53 5|
23 4
25 4
24 4
4013
Frigates.
60
Feet. Inch.
178 14
47 7
19 114
21 34
20 74
2542
52
Feet. Inch.
172 1
45 24
20 8
2267
Corvettes.
32
Feet. Inch.
138 74
36 o|
14 9
16 3
15 6
999
24
Feet. Inch.
125 4
32 74
13 64
14 10
14 24
738
The introduction of vessels propelled by steam for prac¬
tical purposes dates its origin in the year 1812, when Henry
Bell started the Comet steam-vessel on the Clyde, for the
conveyance of passengers. In 1815 there were 10 steamers
in existence, with an aggregate registered tonnage of 1633
tons. In 1825 this number had increased to 168, with
an aggregate tonnage of 20,287 tons, and in 1835 the
number was 538, with an aggregate tonnage of 80,520.
Some interesting and valuable experiments were made about
1832, by Mr Scott Russell, on the Forth and Clyde Canal,
with a view to introduce steam on canals, and though not
successful in their object, a peculiar class of very long and
finely-formed boats for quick passenger traffic on canals
resulted from them. These boats were drawn by two
horses, and were expected to travel at the rate of 9 or 10
miles per hour, but it was found that if these were not at
once put to this speed, but started sluggishly or gradually,
a wave was formed in front of the boat and continued to
precede it, washing over the banks of the canal and over the
towing-path. Under these circumstances the horses were
much distressed with the labour which they had to perform.
If, on the other hand, they were urged into a speed of 9
or 10 miles an hour at once upon starting, no wave was
formed, and the boat seemed to rise on the surface of the
water and to be propelled with comparative ease so long as
that speed was maintained; but if they flagged, and their
rate of travelling fell to 6 or 7 miles an hour, the wave was
formed, and it then became necessary to go slower, or walk
SHIP-BUILDING. 137
History, them till it disappeared, and then to start them again at
once into the higher speed. This peculiar result was no
doubt mainly caused by the confined space of the canal,
but no scientific investigation to account for it has yet been
given. The lines of these boats were called wave-lines by
Mr Scott Russell, and for ease of propulsion in smooth water
they are undoubtedly beneficial. Lines of a similar cha¬
racter were also used about the same time by Mr Fearnall
in fast-passenger steamers on the Thames. Their advan¬
tage was made very apparent by the construction of the
Vesper in 1837, a passenger-boat from London Bridge to
Gravesend. This boat went through the water at a speed
of about 12 miles an hour, with scarcely any wave or even
a ripple at her bows, while her competitors were carrying
a heavy wave and swell before them. Other vessels with
lines of a similar character were built subsequently by
Messrs Fletcher and Fearnall, by Mr Ditchburn, who had
been in their employment, and also by others.
Up to 1836 the mercantile marine had laboured under
the disadvantage of a tonnage law for the charging of dues,
which, by the mode of measurement enacted, held out
a premium for the construction of inferior ships. In this
year a new act was passed, and a better system introduced.
By this act the internal capacity of a ship became the mea¬
sure of her tonnage, and the serious objections to the former
law were obviated.
It was about this period that iron beean to be used to
any great extent as a material for ship-building. Its merits
for this purpose will be discussed hereafter, when treating
of the practical construction of ships. Mr Manby, Mr Laird
of Liverpool, and Mr Fairbairn of Manchester, were the
first constructors of vessels of any size of this material.
Mr Fairbairn, in 1833 and 1834, built two passenger-
steamers of iron to ply on the Humber, between Selby and
Hull, and in 1836 he commenced business in company
with others as an iron-ship-builder at Millwall, on the
Thames. In 1837 Mr Laird built an iron steam-vessel,
the Rainbow, for the General Steam Navigation Company
at Deptford, and from that time the use of iron has rapidly
increased.
The next important step in the history of ship-building
was the introduction of the screw-propeller. Many pro¬
posals had been made, and patents taken out, for propellers
of this nature; but a small vessel fitted with a propeller,
patented by Ericsson, was the first brought into practical
use. A small experimental vessel called the F. B. Ogdon,
was built in 1837, and fitted by Ericsson with one of his
propellers, and the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty,
attended by their secretary, Sir William Symonds, took
a trip in her in that year. They, however, failed to see
the advantage of such an invention to men-of-war, and
refused to entertain any proposal for its introduction into
the navy. Mr F. P. Smith also built a small experimental
vessel during this year, and fitted her with a screw propeller.
Ericsson, on receiving no encouragement from the British
government, took steps to bring his invention before the
Americans, and a small vessel, the Robert F. Stockton,
was built by him in 1838, in this country, with this view,
and made the voyage safely to America. Mr Smith, in
the meantime, induced a number of influential men to form
a company to carry out his invention, and in 1839 the
Archimedes was built by them, to test and demonstrate its
value. The success of this vessel was such, and the ad¬
vantages likely to accrue to men-of-war from the introduc¬
tion of the screw were so apparent, that the Rattler was
then ordered to be built in one of the government yards.
Ihis vessel was on the same lines as one of the Admiralty
paddle-wheel steamers, but its stern was lengthened to fit
it to receive the screw propeller. Her success was un¬
deniable, but the progress of the screw in the navy was
very slow for many years, owing to the opposition of Sir
VOL. xx.
William Symonds and to the frequent changes of the History.
Board of Admiralty. Some progress, however, was made
in the introduction of screw-ships into the navy, several
small vessels being built to the designs of Mr Fincham,
the master shipwright of Portsmouth yard. This officer
was in favour of its introduction, as were all the officers of
the engineering department under the Board of Admiralty,
and they were supported by the Hon. Mr Corry, the secre¬
tary of the Admiralty at that time. The Arrogant and
Dauntless, two screw-frigates, were afterwards built by Mr
Fincham; and, at the same time, the Termagant, also a
screw-frigate, was built by Mr White of Cowes. After
this, the growing dissatisfaction with the excessive rolling
of Sir William Symonds’ ships, his obstinate adherence
to his own forms of construction, together with his unwil¬
lingness to co-operate in the introduction of screw-steam
ships into the navy, led the Board of Admiralty, of that
date, to order that a committee of reference should be
constituted, to whom all designs for ships should be sub¬
mitted before they were laid down. This led to Sir William
Symonds resigning his office, and Sir Baldwin Walker,
the present surveyor, was appointed as his successor. It
was understood that Sir Baldwin Walker had not given his
attention to the study of naval architecture in all its
branches, and the Board of Admiralty announced that
they should not expect him to originate the lines of the
vessels to be built, but that these should be designed by
naval architects attached to his office. The construction of
the ships of the royal navy was thus placed on a proper
footing, and if this arrangement be carried out, and the
naval architects have full power given to them, and be at the
same time competent men, the country ought to reap the
benefit of so judicious an arrangement.
With respect to the class of ships ordered to be built at
this period in the dockyards no change in accordance with
the advancing state of screw propulsion took place. The
naval members of the Board of Admiralty were men who
had long looked upon the noble line of battle-ships of the
navy as not to be surpassed, and they could not apparently
make up their minds to desecrate them, as they seemed to
consider it, by the introduction of steam-power. The re¬
sult of this somewhat romantic feeling was, that early in
Sir Baldwin Walker’s administration a number of sailing
three-deckers were laid down in opposition to the expressed
opinion of the leading civil professional officers attached to
the admiralty. Not one of these vessels has been launched,
or will be launched, as a sailing vessel. They have all been
converted, or are under conversion, to screw-ships, by being
lengthened in midships, at the bows and also at the sterns.
The greater proportion of the other sailing three-deckers are
also being razeed and converted into two-decked screw-ships,
their sterns only being altered. These important changes
on the last-mentioned vessels are being carried out, while
two of the members of the late school of naval architecture
are the assistant-surveyors; and a repetition of the errors
committed at the end of the last century, on the occasion of
a similar operation upon several ships, will no doubt be
avoided. The errors committed at that time have been
described by Mr Wilson, as previously quoted, and are as¬
cribed by him to a want of sufficient scientific knowledge ;
but as this is not the case at the present time, the country
may now expect a very fine class of vessels to be the result.
It may also be remarked, that the introduction of the
system of distilling the necessary supply of fresh-water on
board the ships, and thus obviating the necessity of carry¬
ing so great a weight of fresh-water, has materially facili¬
tated the arrangements for these alterations.
The history of ship-building in the royal navy up to
the present time (1859), cannot be closed without reference
to the class of small gun-boats and of iron-cased floating
batteries recently introduced into the service. The gun-
s
138
SHIP-BUILDING.
History, boats are of three classes, varying slightly in size and horse-
power. The greater proportion of them are 106 ft. long be¬
tween the perpendiculars, 22 ft. beam and 8 ft. deep, and are
fitted with high-pressure engines of sixty horse-power.
They are of 233 tons burden, and their draught of water,
when ready for sea, is about 6 ft. I he importance of this
class of vessels as a protection against invasion cannot be
overrated. The introduction of steam as a mechanical
agent for the propulsion of vessels, independent of wind
and tide, brings back almost the same state of things as
existed when hostile fleets were composed of rowing gal¬
leys. The supremacy on the ocean which this country has
so long held by means of the experience of such a large
proportion of her population as seamen, must now depend
on other sources of strength, and it behoves the nation to
make preparations suitable to meet the altered circum¬
stances. If our fleet were to suffer any reverse, and thus
leave the sea free to an enemy; or if an enemy came to a
determination to try and evade our fleet, and land an army
on our shores, that army might be embarked at many dif¬
ferent points; and with steam as an agent, the different
portions of it might, with almost perfect certainty, meet at
any appointed time at any spot. When once upon our
coasts, they could move along them with a rapidity far be¬
yond that at which any troops on shore could follow them.
The importance, then, of keeping up a large and effective
force of steam gun-boats, to lie, in the time of an expected
invasion, in every bay and creek of our indented shores, is
evident. For the construction of a fleet of such vessels,
iron is fortunately the most valuable material, as the evils
attending its use in large men-of-war will not militate
against its use in these vessels. If they should be struck
by shot, the men will be above the splinters, and by build¬
ing these vessels with their frames very far apart, and with
a strong inner and outer sheathing, both water-tight on
every frame, they may be made almost unsinkable. The
chief advantage, however, of iron for such vessels is its
durability, if moderate care be taken to construct them
in such a manner, that all the parts may be kept painted,
and then that they be periodically cleaned and painted.
Iron vessels so constructed and hauled up on shore, and so
treated, might be considered as almost free from decay.
The floating batteries, coated with iron-plates 4 inches
thick, appear at first sight to be most formidable vessels.
Some of these have been built without any reference to
speed, but with merely as much steam power as will give
them the power of locomotion. Two others are now being
built with great steam-power, and with finely-formed bodies,
and these are therefore intended to have great speed.
They are not protected at the bow and at the stern, but
only in midships, and this part is separated from the ends
by strong iron bulkheads, so that the centre portion is, as it
were, a citadel into which the men may retire when at¬
tacked. Their cost is estimated at about L.250,000 each;
and this very large expenditure will necessarily prevent
their number being greatly increased. It may be expected,
therefore, that the nation which has the command of the History,
sea, will send small vessels of superior speed, and armed ~
with guns capable of penetrating the plates of these bat¬
teries, to watch them and prevent their being brought
against the ordinary vessels composing the fleet. What¬
ever speed these batteries may attain, it cannot be doubted
but that light vessels, unencumbered with such weight, may
be built to surpass them as soon as their speed is known.
Table of the British Navy, extracted from the Navy List,
October 1859.
Class.
0,
Guns.
S.E-!
Three-decked ships 
Do. do 
Two-decked ships 
Do. do 
Frigates 
Do 
Corvettes and sloops ..
Do. do 
Frigates and sloops 
Transports  
Despatch vessels 
Gun and other vessels 
Yachts, tugs, &c 
Do., and other vessels
Floating batteries 
Screw
Sails
Screw
Sails
Screw
Sails
Screw
Sails
Paddle
Screw
Screw
Screw
Paddle
Sails
Screw
110 to 131
110 to 120
60 to 100
72 to 84
36 to 50
40 to 50
4 to 21
14 to 26
3 to 22
2 to 4
2 to 4
16
Grand total 
Gun-boats Screw
Frigates, iron-cased, 1 i
not yet in Navy-list— >
building 1 j
4
1
12
23
18
70
11
45
18
3
4
3
16
17
8
10
10
By a return published during this year, it appears that
the total number of ships of all classes belonging to the
navies of other kingdoms is as follows :—
France 448
Russia 164
Sweden—principally \
small vessels J
Norway   143
Denmark 120
United States  79
Holland....  139
Belgium  7
Spain   82
The Two Sicilies 121
Austria 135
Portugal  37
Sardinia  28
Prussia  55
Greece  26
Turkey   49
Brazil  27
Peru  15
Chili  5
Mexico  9
In the merchant-service the screw for some time made
but little progress. A company trading to Rotterdam,
Messrs Laming and Company, were amongst the first to
adopt it; and the mercantile marine owes much to their
enterprising spirit in this respect. Their vessels were
very successful, and attracted much attention from the
time of their first introduction; and doubtless much of their
immediate success may be attributed to men of high stand-
Extract from Return of British Merchant-Shipping by the Registrar- General of the Board of Trade.
Year.
1840
1845
1850
1855
Number and Tonnage of New Vessels
Built and Registered in the British
Empire in each Year.
Sailing Vessels.
Number.
1904
1183
1381
1319
285,289
154,783
229,603
305,113
N umber. Tons.
77
73
81
263
10,639
11,950
15,527
84,862
Total Number of Registered Mercliant-Yessels belonging to the British Empire
in each Year.
Sailing Vessels.
Number. Tons,
28,138
30,805
32,938
33,782
3,215,731
3,582,859
4,045,331
4,842,263
Total.
Number. Tons. Number. Tons,
824
1012
1350
1910
95,807
131,202
187,631
408,290
28,962
31,817
34,288
35,692
3,311,538
3,714,061
4,232,962
5,250,553
Men.
201,340
224,900
239,283
261,194
SHIP-BUILDING
History, ing in their respective professions of ship-builders and
engineers being employed in their construction, and being
left unfettered to work out the end that was desired. From
that time screw-vessels, constructed of iron, began rapidly
to supersede paddle-wheel steamers and sailing vessels,
especially for the conveyance of perishable merchandize,
such as fruit and provisions; and the great capability of
combining sailing and steaming which the screw affords,
will no doubt tend to the continued increase of auxiliary
steamers. The preceding table of the merchant-shipping
of the country shows the extent to which the substitution
of steamers for sailing vessels is taking place.
Reference has been previously made to the beneficial
influence of the yacht clubs throughout the country. The
English yachts were supposed to be unrivalled in speed;
and in 1851 a challenge cup was given, open to the whole
world for competition. A yacht from America, however,
came over to this country, and carried off the prize. She
soon showed such great superiority that the favourite
English yachts at once gave up the contest, and it appeared
likely that she would be allowed to walk over the course.
To prevent this the late Mr Robert Stephenson entered
139
his yacht, the Titania, built by Mr Scott Russell, to com- History,
pete with her, and thus give her an opportunity of showing y
the extent of her superiority, and on what points that supe¬
riority was greatest. Representations of these two yachts are
given in Plates V. and VI., and their relative performances
and qualities will be examined hereafter. Though the intro¬
duction of steam has done much to lessen the interest taken
in yachting, yet it is to be hoped that the valuable encour¬
agement given to naval architects, and to the maritime
predilections of the country by yachting clubs will be con¬
tinued, and that many will follow the example already set
by a few spirited men, of placing a small amount of auxi¬
liary steam-power in their yachts with screw-propellers.
1 his is done without impairing their beauty, and renders
them certain in their movements when desired.
In connection with this subject, and as a means of form¬
ing a taste for it, the rowing and racing boats of the youths
at public schools, and of the young men at the universities
and elsewhere, may be mentioned. The following may be
taken as the average performances of such boats at the pre¬
sent day. I he drawings and the dimensions are from boats
built by Messrs Searle and Sons of Lambeth, London :—
Randan Gig, 28 Feet Long.
A Pleasure Boat for three Pairs of Sculls; or for a Pair of Sculls in the middle, and with a single Oar or Scull forward and aft in addition
when desired.
A Sculling Outriggek, 30 Feet Long.
New Style for Racing in Smooth Water.
Eight-Oared Outrigger, 60 Feet Long,
New Style for Racing in Smooth Water.
Eight-Oared Cutter, 60 Feet Long.
The Old Style of Racing Boat, or for Water for which the Outrigger is considered of too slight a Build.
Description of Boat.
Outrigger Racing Boats-
Outrigger sculling boat..
„ pair-oared  
„ four-oared 
„ six-oared  
„ eight-oared ....
Racing Boats of the old style-
Sculling boat 
Randan wherry   
Pour-oared cutter  
Six-oared cutter 
Pjight-oared cutter 
The lighter kind of Pleasure Boats-
Pair-oared gig  
Randan gig 
Four-oared gig 
Six-oared gig 
Eight-oared gig   
Length.
Feet.
32
34
42 to 45
50 to 54
57 to 65
30
32
40 to 42
45 to 50
54 to 58
23 to 25
27 to 30
40 to 42
55 to 48
54 to 58
Breadth.
Ft. In. Ft.
0 10 to 1
1 3 to 1
1 10 to 2
2 0 to 2
2 2 to 2
4 to 3
4 to 3
6 to 3
6 to 3
6 to 3
6 to 3
6 to 3
4 to 3
4 to 3
2 to 3
Depth.
8J in.
9 to 11 in.
1 foot.
1 „
1 „
Ft. In. Ft.
1 0 to 1
1 0 to 1
1 1 to 1
1 1 to 1
1 1 to 1
foot 4 in.
„ 4 „
» 3 „
„ 3 „
2 „
Weight.
lb.
30 to 40
45 to 55
100 to 112
150 to 190
280 to 330
55 to 60
100 to 140
224 to 280
336 to 376
520 to 600
180 to 200
200 to 224
250 to 300
350 to 400
560 to 620
Maximum
speed per hour
in still water.
Miles.
6
6J to 7
8J- to 9
9 to 9£
9J to 10
5*
6
7£ to 8
8
8| to 9
4 to 4£
5
6| to 7
7
7h
To pass from these diminutive but beautiful specimens
of naval architecture, the last great work which requires to
be noticed in this brief outline of the history of the rise
and progress of ship-building is the construction of the
Great Eastern, Plate VIII. The dimensions of this vessel,
as given on the plate, are so far beyond those of ordinary
vessels, that it is necessary to draw particular attention to
them. At the period of writing this article she has not
been to sea except for one or two trial trips. Her per¬
formances will be discussed hereafter, but the results pre¬
dicted by science as to her speed, with a given amount of
steam-power, appear to have been realized. How far mer¬
cantile enterprise will be benefited by the construction of
vessels of her magnitude remains to be proved.
140
SHIP-BUILDING.
Calcula- DESCUIPTION OF THE MANNER OF PERFORMING THE CALCU¬
LATIONS INCIDENTAL TO DESIGNING A SHIP, WITH INVES¬
TIGATIONS OF SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL ELEMENTS OF THE
DESIGN.
The labours of the numerous men of science who have
Theory. devoted either the whole or a portion of their attention to
the various problems embraced in the theory of ships, have
left but few of its abstract principles uninvestigated ; most
of the proportions of a ship have been examined, and the
laws on which they depend clearly defined, either by the
aid of mathematical demonstration, or by experimental in¬
duction. There are, however, some questions which,
though sound in theory, still depend on the results of
physical experiments for perfecting their practical applica¬
tion.
Many of the elements of naval construction are dependent
on the known laws of nature ; and it may now be said that
the principal difficulties of these are surmounted, and are
familiar to the instructed naval architect. These are of
themselves sufficient to insure the attainment of a certain
and considerable degree of excellency in a ship, to give it
a preponderance of any given quality, to discover the causes
of any bad quality, and to point out the means of providing
a remedy for the faults discovered.
The forces which act upon a ship in motion, in a fluid,
even though the fluid be at rest, are as yet but imperfectly
defined by mathematicians ; and the elements of naval con¬
struction dependent on the laws regulating them are, there¬
fore, less known and less certain in their application. The
form of a ship’s body need not, however, remain imperfect,
because the curve of the solid of least resistance is uncer¬
tain, since enough has resulted from the consideration of
the nature of that solid to prove its inapplicability to vessels
in general ; and theoretic perfection of the science in this
particular would, therefore, be of no practical utility.
A very unphilosophic mode of reasoning is frequently
applied to the question of the application of the exact
sciences to naval architecture. It has been argued, that
because men without any great amount of scientific know¬
ledge have produced good ships, therefore the exact sciences
are not necessary for the advancement of naval architecture.
In such instances the success has resulted in some cases
from chance, in others from induction after a succession of
failures, but more frequently from the results of observa¬
tions on other good ships; and in all these cases, wherever
the changes from a foregoing example have been of any
moment, the result has been a matter of doubt until tested
by trial after completion. It is true that the scientific
naval architect cannot effect, by any mathematical process,
the synthetical composition of a perfect ship, but he may,
by the application of the principles fully established and
known to him, produce one with a full confidence of its
possessing a preponderance of those qualities which he has
considered it desirable that it should possess. The mistake
is in the assumption that men of science consider that the
theory of naval architecture is already perfected, and is a
definite science, whereas this is far from being the case;
and it can only be advanced gradually to a greater degree
of perfection by an analysis of the actual performances of
ships at sea, collected and registered, and the abstract
sciences then brought to bear upon them. In every science
a perfect theory is the result of the perfection of the science.
The time is gone by, when a theory was first formed, and
facts were then warped or twisted to suit the pre-con-
ceived theory.
It is now proposed to proceed to show, in as concise a man¬
ner as possible, the method of performing the calculations
necessary to determine the essential elements of the design
of a ship’s body, and which are required in the course of pre¬
paring the original draught or drawing. The rules to find
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
the areas of plane figures, bounded by straight lines and Calcula-
curves, will first be given ; and afterwards those for finding tions irici-
the volumes of solids, bounded by planes and curvilinear ^e“tal to
designing
sPaces* a Ship.
To find the area of a plane area, bounded by straight lines
and a curve.
Art. 1. If the area is symmetrical in regard to the line An, Simpson’s
that is, if a line A, A can he found to divide the area into tworutos for
equal parts, as A, an and A1 bn ; — finding the
Divide this line (or axis) into a convenient number of equal areas of
parts, taking care to have an even number of such parts, then draw plane sur-
the lines Ai av A2«2, A3 a3, &c., A„an at right angles to the line faces.
AjA*, through the points Aj, A2, A3, &c., An, and meeting the
curve in the points av a2, a3, &c., an, these lines being called
ordinates ;
The second, A2 a2, fourth, A4 a4, &c., are called the even ordi¬
nates. The third A3 a3, fifth Ag a5, &c., are called the odd ordi¬
nates (the first and last being omitted).
Then, if these ordinates be measured on the same scale
as the equal distances A4 A2, A2 Aj, &c., the following rules
will give the area of the figure :—
Rule I.—To the sum of the first and last ordinates add
four times the sum of all the even ordinates, and twice the
sum of all the odd ordinates (omitting the first and last) ;
multiply this final sum by the common distance between the
ordinates, divide by 3, and the result will be the area
(nearly).
Note 1.-—The following is the usual demonstration given to this
rule, which is due to Thomas Simpson, who was Professor of Mathe¬
matics at Woolwich, about the middle of the last century :—
Referring to fig. 3,
Put A4 ax — a4, A2 <*2 *2’ ^3 ^3 ~ *3’ &c., A„ a* = an,
Ajj — A2 A3 — A3 A4, &c., A„ _ x A* — h
We suppose a parabolic curve, the equation to which is
j/=:A+Ba) + Ca:2 (1)
to pass through the three points av a2, a3 ; for since (1) contains
three arbitrary constants A, B, C, we can, as is well known, make
the curve (1) pass through three given points. Now, since (1)
passes through av we know (if Ax be taken as origin) that y = a,
when a — o ] when x = h, y = u2 ■= A2 a2, and y ~ a:i =: A3 a3
when x = 2 h ■, hence we have the following equations :—
«! = A . . (2) a2 = ^ + Bh + C h2 . . (3) «3 = «1 + 2 B A
+ 4 C A2 .. (4) between (3) and (4) we readily determine B and
0, viz.:—
B =
4 a2 — a3 — 3 «j
2A
- (5)
c =
_ “3 - 2ct2 + al
2 A*
(6)
Introducing these values into (1), we obtain
4 — a, — 3 «, a, — 2 «„ + «
y = *i + —+ ——Trf
2 h 2 A2
But by the Integral Calculus we know that the area of a curve is
represented by
y'y dx, taken between proper limits. In the present case these
limits are t> and 2A.
.'. area of A, a3, y c&z = 2^ A + A h, 2
SHIP-BUILDING.
Calcula-
ons inci-
Eental to
esigning
a Ship.
+ or area of Ai a3=^^ai + “3 + 4a2^>after
a little reduction.
Again, by making a parabola of the same form as (1) pass through
the three points a3, a4, a5, we obtain a result precisely similar to
the above, that is,
h .
area A3 a5 = ^(a3 + «5 + 4«4, ana
area
A5 a? =—(«5 + a7 + 4«t.),
area A»_2 «»= -(«„- j + + 4«»-2).
Adding these areas we find
(I.) Area Aj an = — | a1 + «n + 4(«2 + a4 + «6+&c., «„_2)
+ 2 («c3 + «5, &c.,« n-j) |
It ought to be observed that in the application of this, and the
following rules, an odd number of ordinates are always to be taken,
and the nearer the ordinates are taken, that is, the less the common
interval, the more nearly will the final result approach the true
area of the figure.
For those who are not familiar
with the Integral Calculus, another
demonstration may be obtained, as
follows:—
Through the point a2, draw a tan¬
gent to the parabola which passes
through av av a3, and produce Aj
aj, A3 a3, to meet this tangent in
the points c and d; join a4 a3; in¬
tersecting A2 a2 in A; through ax
and c draw c e and a1 f parallel to
Aj A3,'then it is shown in all works
on Conic Sections that a3 is pa¬
rallel to c d. Hence by Euc. I. 35—
Paral™ ald ■=. paral™ c/, because they are on the same base and
between the same parallels A4 ev A3 d.
Now, A2b — —^ ani^ A2 a2 — “2
area of parabola al ba3 «2 al = —paral? axd — —paral™ cf1
O v>
= | ^a2 - ^ X 2h, since A1A3 = a /= 2b.
Also area of trapezoid Aj aj a3 A3 = A4 A3
= aC*i + “3)-
Adding these two areas, we obtain that of the whole figure
Aj aj «2 a3 A3 = — j Saij + 3«3 + 4«2 — 2aj — 2«3 ^
= |- { “l + 4a2 + “3- }
By repeating this process for the area of the figures A3 a3 a4 a5
Aj, &c., &c., and adding the results, we obtain for the whole area
Ax «„ the same result as before.
If «2 were less than «j, the parabola would be convex towards
Aj A3 ; but the same rule would still apply, for A2b would then be
equal to — *2, and this introduced into the form for finding
the area of the parabola, leads to the same result as that already
obtained.
Another demonstration, on different principles, will be given in
Note (3.)
Rule II.—To the sum of the first and last ordinates, add
three times the sum of the second, third, fifth, sixth, eighth,
ninth, <$fc., ordinates, and twice the sum of the fourth,
seventh, tenth, thirteenth, fyc., ordinates [omitting the last
ordinate); multiply this final sum by three times the com¬
mon distance between the ordinates, divide the •product by
8, and the result will give the area [nearly).
Note, 2.—To obtain what naval architects call the “ Second Rule,”
we suppose a parabola, the equation to which is
P = A + Ba; + C;r2 + Da:3 (1)
to pass through the four points av o2, a3 a4 (fig. 1), the four con¬
stants being determined by these conditions; that is, when x takes
the successive values o, h,2h, 3h; y becomes «j, «2, a3, and«4;
hence the following equations:
*\=A   (2) v when x — 0 y = «j
a2 —+ +DA3 (3)'.* when a; = Aj y = «2
«3 —«j=2BA4-4CA2+8DA3 ... (4) V when * = 2Aj y = Oj
a4 —ai=3BA + 9CA2+27DA3 . . (5) v when a: = 3Aj y = «4
(4) ~(3) X 2 gives «3 — 2«2 + «j = 2CA3 +6DA3 (6)
(5) + (3) — (4) x 2 gives a4 —2«3 + «2 = 2CA2 +12DA3 (7)
(7)-(6) gives 6DA3 = a4-3a3 + 3«2-«j (g)
From (6) and (8) 2CA2 = a4 + 4a3 - 5«2 + 2aj (9)
From (3), (8) and (9) 6BA = 2a4-9*3 + 18«2-ll*j . . . (10)
But area, ovj' ydx | A + Ba; + Cx3 + Da:3 j dx
ve write the limits of x, o and 3A, because at A,, a: is 0, and a
is 3A). 1
3A ( i
•*. Area Aj a4 = — | 8 A +12 BA + 24 CA«+ 54 DA3. |
Introducing the values of A, B, C, and D, given by the above
equations, we find, after some obvious reductions,
AreaAja4 = ^-{«j + ai + S^ + S*, j (11.)
In like manner,‘by making a curve similar to (1) pass through
the points a4, a6, a6, a7, we have
Area A4 a7 = ^ | «4 + a7 + 3 a5 + 3 «6 | ..... (12.)
AreaA7aj0=|^ | «7 + «j0 + 3 «8+ 3 } (13.)
Area A,_3o,= { «B_3+ «. + 3 a,_3 + 3 | . . (N.)
Adding equations (11), (12), (13), &c., (N), we get
3h f
(II.) Area Aj on = g- | «j + an + 3 (02+ «3 + «5 + + &c, gH_ 2
+ a»-1)+2(a4 + «7 + «j0 + &c., «»_3) |
It will be seen from the foregoing method that we may make a
curve of the form
y = A + Ba; + Ca:2 +Das3 +Ea:4+ &c., Nzn j
pass through n points, taking care that the equation shall contain
n arbitrary constants, to be determined by the conditions that the
curve may pass through aj, a2, a3, a4, &c., an (fig. 3, page 140), when
x and y are respectively xz= o, x ■= h, x = 2 h, &c., x = (n-1) A,
y — “v y = y — «3, &c., y = *n,
«j, «e2, *3, &c., and A, having the same interpretation as before; the
ordinates being taken at equal distances apart, as on this hypothesis
the calculation of the area is much simplified.
Rules obtained after this manner for any given number of ordi¬
nates will, in general, give us the area of the figure more correctly
than if we employed the preceding rules, because in the latter case
we suppose a continuous curve to pass through the given points,
whereas, in the former cases, we have a series of curves passing
through the given points, and the curvilinear boundary is itself
supposed to be a continuous curve. Such rules (for many ordinates)
give rise to a great deal of labour in obtaining them, and entail
almost as much labour in their application. In the latter case,
moreover, logarithms will assist us to some extent, and in the former.
1 The equation to a parabola being y2 = 1 m x, or y = 2 mi zl
Area, or^* y dx = 2mi^J' a;l dx = ~ ^ - by (1)
2
= — circumscribed parallelogram.
• (1)
141
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
142
SHIP-BUILDING.
Calctfla-
tions inci¬
dental to
there are some remarkable properties of the natural numbers con¬
nected with the determination of the arbitrary constants, and on
which perhaps more light may hereafter be thrown. We have re¬
marked some curious properties of the squares, cubes, &c., of num¬
bers connected with the eliminations. There can be no doubt that
many other rules of a very simple kind may be obtained on the
condition that any number of the constants may disappear from the
general equation, which is equivalent to as many conditions.
Emerson, in his Arithmetic of Infinites, published by Nourse in
the year 1767, gives the following formulae, obtained by the fore¬
going processes—from one up to nine ordinates.
Area = ha] for one ordinate.
= ^-(«x + «2) for two ordinates.
(1) = ^ (otj + «3 + 4 etj) for three ordinates.
+ «4 + 3 («2 + «3) | . . . . for four ordinates.
(3) = | 7 («j + «5) + 32 («2 + «4) +12 a3 | for five ordinates.
(4) = { 19 («! + «6) + 75 («2 + «5) + 50 («3 + «4) | six do.
(5) = ^40* j ^ (“2 + a6) + 27 («3+«5)-l-272 «4 J
for seven ordinates.
(6) =
v7) =
7 h
17280
/:
udx
where u represents a function of x, or f (as), as it is usually written,
and asj, as2 represent the limits of the integral.
Now, if we suppose as to vary by the constant difference Ax, we
may suppose z — and if «x, «2, *3, &c., «n be the values of u
when * = o, 1,2, 3, &c., n, we have, by Taylor’s theorem,
A2a . A3a
u = tt1+zAx1+z(z-l)-^~, +z(z~l)(z-2) &c-) • • 00
But by hypothesis Ax is constant, and according to the notation
• #
we have previously employed, we may suppose it = A .•. —=2,and
dx
—= dz. Multiplying each side of (1) by these differentials, and
integrating, we have
l/\ , A3 A4 3,3 2
A3 «
1-2-3
(zfi Gz4 ll,3 6 22\ Ai«1 /z* 10,* 35,4
+ ^5 " 4 + 3 ~ 2 ) 1-2-3-4+ (^6 “ “s' +~4~-
24 ,2\ A*«,
+ 2 jlJ.
A7 15 26 85,* 225,4 274,3 120,2\ A6a,
+ (7-—+ -6 i 4 ”3 s-jrr;
50,3
3
/,8 21,7 , 175,® 735^, 1624z4 1764 s3 720,2\
Vs- ■_ * s-+— - 3 +—)
(-
V9"
A7«j
5040 ,2
^751 (flCj "p *3) 3577 (ecj + ay) +1323 (ot3 + a3) -J- 2989
(«3 + a4) | for eight ordinates.
( 989 (aj + «9) + 5888 («2 + «8) - 928 («3 + «7) +10496
14170 [ \
(«4 + «6) — 4540 «5, > for nine ordinates.
Where extreme accuracy is required, these may be combined
such a way as to give the area. For instance, if there were fif¬
teen ordinates in a figure, (5) and (7) may be combined, remember¬
ing that the last ordinate of (5) becomes the first in (7), &c., &c.
When seven ordinates are considered sufficient, the following
elegant rule, due to the late Mr Thomas Weddle, of the Military
College, Sandhurst, may be employed :—
Rule III.—When seven ordinates are employed} To jive
times the sum of the even ordinates, add the fourth, or
middle ordinate, and all the odd ordinates ; multiply this
sum by three times the common distance between the ordi¬
nates, divide by 10, and the result will give the area
(nearly).2
Note 3.—The Calculus of Finite Differences may be advanta¬
geously employed to approximate to the areas of surfaces, lengths
of curves, volumes of solids, centres of gravity, moments of inertia,
Ac. For triple integrals may generally be reduced to integrals of
the form
V10
(zfj
V11
)S-
36 ,9 . 546 ^
9 + 8
, 118124 z4 109584,3 40320,2'
+ * o +
2
63273 z7
JlJL
269325 ,3
45 z10 , 870 z9 9450 z8
10 + 9 8 +
, 723680z6 1172700z4, 1026576Z3 362880 z2>
T 5 1 1 S S 
10
(z12 55 2
12 11
3628800 z2
/zl3
V13
\ a^l
JlJL
+
+ &c.,
7 6*5
120543849z3 35916800 z2\
12
&c.,
. (2.)
A««1 + &c.}
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship,
28,8 , 322,7 I960,6 6769z6 13132^ 13068,3
T+-7 6 5 4—+“3“
4536 ,7 t 22449 ,g 67284 ^
z11 1320 z10 18150 z9 157773 z8 902055z7
+ 10 " 9 + 8 7
, 3416930z« 8409500Z5 12753576z4 10628640z3
H B; 1 .  —   
66 z12 1925 z11 32670 z10 357423 z9 2637558z8
12 + 11 10 + 9 s'
, 13339545z7 45995730z6 , 105258876Z5 150917976z4
+  = X  +‘
The coefficients in each of these terms are readily obtained by
multiplying (p -1) (p-2) (p _ 3) (p - 4) (p- 5), &c. (p - n) to¬
gether.
If we take this integral between the limits , = 0 and 2 = 2,
which correspond to a: = 0 and x = 2h, after multiplying by h.
yr>2h 11 l
udx = h {2cc1+2a*i + jj- A2/*, A4«1 + — A5^ —
0
37
3780 + &c<}
But by the principles of the Calculus of Finite Differences :
Aotj ~ «2 — a,
A2«1 = cc3 — 2oc2 + ftj
= I { “1 + 4«2 + 2a3 — ^ ^*“1 —
37
1260
Now, if we add similar expressions for the area included between
x — 2h and * = 4A; # = 4A and x — 6h, &c. x = (n — 2) and
x = nh (n being an even number).
1 Seven, thirteen, nineteen, &c., ordinates, may be employed on the same hypothesis, as is mentioned hereafter.
2 The fourth ordinate is considered among the even ordinates.
r
SHIP-BU
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
«! + *« + ! + 4 (a2 + «4
+ 2 («t3 + a5 + a7 + &c. + a n _ i J.
— (A4«i + A4aa + A4a4 + &c-
+ ^ CA5*i + A',a2 + aS“4 + &c-
37
~ 1260 (A6ai + Ae“2+&C' &C'
+ a6 + &C. + a»-2)
)•
+ &c. &c. &c. | . (3.)
The first line corresponds to the liule we have already obtained
(1.) by supposing a parabola to pass through the extremities of the
ordinates u1, «2, a3 ; and another through a3, a4, &c.
The following terms are the correction of the first line; hence,
when great accuracy is required, the following results may be taken
into account.
To obtain Rule (III.), we only have to suppose the integral (1)
taken between the limits 2 = 0 and 2 = 6, or a; = 0 and x = 6h,
as was done by Mr Weddle in his demonstration, given in the
Dublin and Cambridge Mathematical Journal for February 1856,
which is similar to this:
udx = h
{6\
123,
To
33 41 , .
+ 10 A5ai + 140 A6ki + &c-) (4,)
And we may suppose sixth differences constant, and then all the
41 42
terms after Afi«, in (4) will vanish; but —— differs from by
1 140 140 J
1 41 42
the small fraction ——; hence, instead of —— we may write -—
140 140 J 140
3
or — without material error. Replacing A«j by a2 — A2«j by
ILDING.
Ordinates.
1 1st ord.
1 last do.
2 sum of 1st and last ord.
48 four times sum of even do.
22 twice sum of odd do.
By Rule (/.)
Even Ordinates.
2
4
4
2
Odd Ordinates.
3
5
3
143
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
12 sum of even ord.
4
72
l=-3 comn>on distance. 48 — four times do.
11 sum of odd ord.
2
22 twice sum of do.
72 =area.
By Rule (77.)
Ordinates. Ordinates.
1 first ord. 2 second ord.
1 last do. 3 third do.
5 fifth do.
2 sum of 1st and last ord. 4 sixth do.
I -thrice sum of 2d, 2 eight do.
48 1 3d, 5th, 6th, &c. —
14 twice sum of 4th, 7th. 16 sum of do.
— 3
64 —
9 = 3 times com. dist. 48 three times
Ordinates.
4 fourth ord.
3 seventh do.
7 sum of do.
2
14 twice sum of do.
sum of do.
8)576
72 = area, which agrees exactly with the area obtained by
Rule (I.) 3
(2.) Find the area of a figure where the ordinates are
10, 12, 13, 14, 13, 12, and 10 feet, respectively, and the
common distance 2 feet.
2 r
By Rule (I.) Area = 3 { 10 + 10 + 4 (12 + 14 + 12) + 2
(13 + 13)} = 149* feet.
By Rule (II.) Area = j 10 + 10 + 3 (12 + 13 + 13 +
«3 —2«2 + eq, a3<*1 by a4 — 3«;, + 3a2 —«1 &c., after some obvious
reductions (4) becomes
udx — — {
10 l
— ^ f
~ 10 1
al + *3 + «5 + <*7 + 5 (a2 + «6) + 6a4|
“l + *3 + “4 + a5 + “7 + 5 (a2 + a4
+ afi) }
(5.)
_ “ From the foregoing investigation, it is clear, that formula (5.)
gives the exact area, when fifth differences are constant, while it
differs (in excess) from the
true value by A6/3 when sixth, or
even seventh, differences are constant. In other cases it will give
the area very nearly, providing the differences, beginning at the
sixth, are small.” 1
As many rules as we please may be obtained by integrating (1.)
from 2 = 0 to 2=1, 2=0 to 2 = 2, 2 = 0 to 2 = 3, 2 = 0 to
« = 4, &c.: from 2 = 0 to 2 = w, and, neglecting small quantities,
as has been done by Mr Weddle, and by supposing the (n —l)th
order of differences constant.2
Rule (II.) may be obtained by integrating equations (1.) from
2 = 0 to 2 = 3, which will be the same as supposing a series of
parabolas to pass through the extremities of a,, a,, «, : a.,
«7, &c., as was the case in formula (3).
In these rules, if the curve passes through A, or An, the
first or last ordinate must be considered 0.
Some examples will now be given on the application of
the preceding rules.
(1.) Find the area of a figure, bounded by right lines and
a curve, the ordinates of which are taken at 3 feet apart,
and measure 1, 2, 3, 4, o, 4, 3, 2, and 1 feet respectively.
12) + 2 x 14} = 148§ feet.
By Rule (III.) Area = j 10 + 13 + 14 + 13 + 10 + 5
(12 + 14 + 12)} = 150 feet.
(3.) Find the area where the ordinates are 2075, 21*78,
22*56, 23*79, 22*64, 21*51; and 21*51, the common dis¬
tance being 6 feet.
By Rule (I.) Area = ^ j 20*75 + 21*51 + 4 (21*78 + 23*79
+ 21*51) + 2 (22*56 + 22*64)}
= 801*96 feet.
By Rule (II.) Area = { 20*75 + 21*51 + 3 (21*78 +
22*56 + 22*64 + 21*51) + 2 x
23*79} = 799*4475.
By Rule (III.) Area = j 20*75 + 22*56 + 23*79 + 22*64
+ 21*51 + 5 (21*78 + 23*79 +
21*51)} = 803*97.
As is stated in Note (3.), Rule (III.)
can only be applied to obtain a very near
approximation to the true area when the
sixth and seventh ordinates are alike, or
differ by a very small quantity.
By applying these rules to find
the area of the quadrant A4 aj, the
radius of which is 6 feet, it will be
seen how much the results differ
from the true area.
Fig. 5.
1 The Dub. and C. Math. Journal, Feb. 1854.
The coefficients of the various orders of differences have been extended, in order that the reader may obtain some of these rules for
himself.
144
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
Displace¬
ment.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Divide the radius Aj A7 into six equal parts (Fig. 5), and erect
the ordinates A2 av A3 a3, &c. observing that A1 = 0.
A2 a2 = V(Ar a2)*-(A7 A2)» = v'62-52 = VlT = 3-3163
A3 a3 = V'(A7 a3)3 — (A7 A3)“ = = V20 = 4-4721
A4 a4 = V'62-3* = V/27' = 5-1961
As a6 = V6*—22 = J32 = 5-6568
Afi ag = V62 — 13 = V35* = 5-9160
Ar a7 =6
The area found by Rule (I.) = 27-9901 feet.
„ (II.) = 27-9285 „
„ (III.) = 280401 „
Apply formula (5.) given at the end of Note (1.)
-Area = jJq I 41 (flSj + «7) + 216 («2 + a6) + 27 («3 + «.) +
272 «4}-
Where h = 6, a7 = 04 ee2 = 3-3163, a3 = 4-4721, &c.
And area = 28-05 feet.
6a x 3-1416
But true area of quadrant =     = 28-2744, so that
Rule (HI.) and formula (5.), in the present case, give the area
almost accurately.
(4.) The ordinates of a curve taken 6 feet apart are, 20,
22, 24, 25 ; 24, 23, and 21 feet, respectively : find the area
of the figure.
By Rule (I.) Area = | | 20 + 21 + 4 (22 + 25 + 23) + 2
(24 + 24)} = 834 feet.
By Rule (II.) Area = j 20 + 21 + 3 (22 + 24 + 24
+ 23) + 2 X 25} = 832-5 feet.
By Rule (III.) Area = j 20 + 24 + 25 +21 + 5 (22 +
25 + 23} = 835-2 feet.
By formula (5.) Area = ^ { 20 + 21 + 216 (22 + 23) + 27
(24 + 24) + 272 x 25} = 835-5
feet.
(5.) Find the area, when the ordinates, taken 4 feet apart
measure 0, 2-275, 3-476, 4-567, 5'673, 6-451, 5-341, 4-236,
3*254, 3-065, 2-784, T876, and 0, respectively.
By Rule (I.) Area = 174"6293.
(6.) Find the area by Rules (II.) and (III.) when the
ordinates, taken 1 foot apart, measure, 0, 1-7684, 2-3457,
3"4567, 3*214, 2-97654, and 2*8543 feet, respectively.
By Rule (II.) Area = 15-2556, &c.
By Rule (III.) Area = 15-86367
Art. 2. Def.—By the Displacement of a ship is meant
the volume of water which the ship displaces when floating
on its surface.
Now, by the principles of hydrostatics, it is well known
that the weight of a body floating in water, or any other
fluid, is equal to the weight of the water or fluid displaced.
Hence, after obtaining the displacement of a body, it is only
necessary to multiply the volume (say in cubic feet) of the
displaced fluid, by the weight of a cubic foot of the fluid, in
order to obtain the weight of the floating body.
Def.—Dy a plane of flotation is meant that section
of the vessel, in any position, made by the surface of the
water.
Several general rules have been given to determine the displace¬
ment of ships, which can be but approximations to the true re¬
sults, since the outlines of ships differ so widely, and it is there¬
fore not considered necessary to give them.
In order to find the displacement, the ship is supposed to be di¬
vided by any number of equi-distant horizontal planes, that is, Calcula-
planes taken parallel to the load-water line, and also by any con- tions inci-
venient number of equi-distant vertical planes, intersecting, of dental to
course, the former series of horizontal planes at right angles, designing
These planes are generally projected by the draughtsman on the a Ship*
three plans of the vessel, viz., the body plan, the sheer plan, and y _ ,
half-breadth plan. (See Plate I.) * v~*-
As is seen in the half-breadth plan, the ship is divided into two
equal portions by a vertical plane, running from stem to stern ; and
the perpendicular distances measured on each horizontal plane,
from their intersection with this plane to the ship’s side, are con¬
sidered as ordinates.
Thus, in the half-breadth plan (Plate I.), F 7 is the projection
of the vertical plane which divides the ship into two equal parts,
and F/ Ee are the ordinates in the horizontal plane, F, 7n, any
number of these horizontal planes may be taken, and for the pur¬
poses of calculation they may be numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, &c.; and
A . B . C . &c.
The small portions, fore and aft, are usually calculated separately,
the horizontal and vertical planes being taken much nearer to each
other in consequence of the greater curvature of the vessel at these
parts.
The calculation of the displacement may be proceeded with in
two ways:—
1st, By finding the areas of all the horizontal sections, and em¬
ploying these as ordinates in Rule (I.) or (II.)
2d, By finding the areas of all the vertical sections, and using
these as ordinates in the same rules.
These two results ought to agree.
Or, the rule may be enunciated as follows, ordinates on
the half-breadth plan being understood :—
Rule IV. To the sum of the first and last horizontal
sectional areas, add four times the sum of all the even
horizontal areas, and twice the sum of all the odd horizon¬
tal areas; multiply this final sum by one-third the
common distance between these horizontal planes, and this
result gives one-half the displacement.
We could not, from what has already been done, <J priori, con¬
clude that “ Simpson’s Rule ” would enable us to find the volume
of a solid, bounded by planes and a curvilinear surface. The fol¬
lowing demonstration, however, proves that it holds true.
Note 4.—Let A, e3 represent a portion of such a body, bounded
by the planes A, C3, C3 a3, A, a3, CI a,, C1 e3, and by the surface
a, c3, we take the planes A, as, A, cx, and A, a3, as the three
planes of reference, viz., (x y), (y z), and (z z), respectively.
Un
Bisect A, A3, Ax C,, C, C3, A3 C3, in the points Aa, Bj C2,
and B3, respectively; join A2 C2, and Bj B3 ; through these right
lines let planes A2 c2, Bj &3, be drawn at right angles to the plane
A, C3, then
Assume A. A„ = A. A = B B„ = B, B., = C. C„ = C, C~ = A
A1B1 =BX C, = A2 B2 = B2 C2 = A3,B3 = B3 C3 = &
A, a, = B1 b, = 0,, C, c, = Yl
■^2 W2 :=: k2> ^2 “ ^2> ^2 C2 T2
A3 «3 = «3> B3 i>3 = P>3, C3 C3 = y3
We may then imagine a surface of the form (1.) to pass through
the nine points, a1, a2, a3, 6,, b2, Z>3, c,, c2, c3.
z =: A + Bz + Cx2 + B,^ + C,?/2 + Dxy + Ex2y + Eary* +
Cx2y2 (I.)
SHIP-BUILDING.
145
Calcula- Since it contains nine arbitrary constants, A, B, C, Bj, Cj, &c.,
tions inci- observing that the xs are measured along Aj A3, the ys along A1G1,
dental to and the gg are 5^ ^c. Hence we have
^afship1^ followinS equations:—
V- (1 -) ~ =A when a: = 0, 3/= 0, «■ = a, ...by (I.)
(2.) a2 — ccx ~ BA + CA2 x — h, y — O,0=A2 a2 — a2
(3.) a3 —a, = 2BA + 4CA2 x — 2h,y — 0, « = A3 a3 r= a3
(4.) P1—u1 — BjA + C1A2 x = 0, y — k, z ■=z'i&1 bx=
(5.) j/j — a1 =2B1A+4C1A2 x = 0, y = 21c,z = G1 Cl = 7l
(6.) |S2 - *2 —/3, + *! = DAA + EA2A + EAA2 + GA2A2...by (2.) and
(4.) x = h, y z=lcx z = B2A2 = p,a
(7.) /Sg-ftg-iSj + «! = 2DAA + 4EA2A + 2EAA2 + 4GA2A2...by (3.)
and (4.) x — 2h,y = A, z = B3 A3 = /J3
(8.) y2—ccj. — y1 + 2T)hJc -t* 2EA2A 4- 4EAA® -b 4GA2A2...by
(2.) and (5.) x = h, y= 2k, z = C2c2 = y2
(9.) y3 — «3 — yx -f = 4DAA + 8EA2A + 8EAA2+ 16GA2A2...by
(3.) and (5.) x = 2A, y =. 2k, z — C3e3 = y3
Now, B, C, Bj andCj are readily determined from equations
(2), (3), (4), and (5), and D, E, F, and G, from equations (6), (7),
(8}, and (9); their values are—
A = asj
B _ 4fli2-3(jq-«3
2A
n _ “i ~ 2“2 + “3.
2A2
_ 4g1-3«i-y,.
1 2k
_ a, - 2/3, + yu
Ll - 2A2
D _ 16/?2 + 9k, + 3q3 + 3y, + y3-12g2-12^-4/33-4^
4AA
B _ 6a2 + + 4/33 + 2y2 — 3ticJ—3a3 — 8ft2 — y1—y3'
4h2k
F = 4cc2 + + 2% + 472 —3a;1-gg-S^-Sy, —y3_
4hk2
G __ «i + a3 + 4/32 + + y3 — 2fle2— 2^, — 2y2 — 2fi3.
4tfk2
In order to find the volume of a solid, we must integrate the
equation y/yc?* dy dz, as shown in most works on the Differential
and Integral Calculus, or, what amounts to the same thing, fjz dx
dy, where z is given by the equation to the surface, and the inte¬
grations in regard to x and y are to be determined by the condi¬
tions of the question. It is evident that, in the present case, the
limiting values of x are 0 and 2A, those of y being 0 and 2&. Hence
p2h rik r2hr2k
J / z d!cdy — J /
*** 0 kJ 0 kJ 0 %y 0
dx dy (A + B# + Cx^ -f- Bji/ -J-
cl2/2 + Dxy + Ex2y + Exy2 + Gx2y2) = — | 36 A + 36 BA+ 48
CA2 + 36 By + 48 cy2 + 36 DAA + 48 EA2A + 48 EAA2 + 64
Gh2k2J. Introducing the values of A, B, C, &c. already found, we
get, after obvious reductions, volume AjCg = ~ | a, + 4a2 + «3
+ 4 C/3, + 4 /32 + ^3) + 7i + 4 y2 + y3 } (II.)
On examining the equations, we perceive that 5- (oq + 4 /32 +
«g) represents the area of the section A, a3 ( Vide Equation I., p.
141), and ^ (/B, + 4 /32 + /33) represents the area Bj b3; also, ^ (y,
+ 4 y2 + y3) that of C, c3. Writing for the area of A, «3, A1;
for that of B, 63, A2; for C, c3, A3 (Equation II.) becomes
Volume A, cs = | (Aj + 4 A2 + Aj) (III.)
VOL. XX.
By making similar paraboloidal surfaces pass through c,, c2, c3,
and six other points, &c. we have
h
Volume A3 cg next portion = — (A3 + 4 A4 + A.).
” 3- (A5 + 4 A6 + A7).
k
„ last portion ■= - (An_2 + 4 A„_I + A»).
Adding these—-
Total volume = | J A1 + An + 4(A2 + A4 + A6 + &c.+
AB_! + 2(A3 + A5 + &c. + An_2)} (IV.)
h
We might have regarded - (ai + 4 ^ + n) as the area of the
• a h
section Aj cv or B,, as we shall denote it, - (a2 + 4 jS2 + y2) that
of A2 c2, &c., or B2, &c., and then
Volume = ^ | B, + Bn + 4 (B2 + B4 + &c. + B„_1) +
2 (®3 + "l- &c- —2)}" Multiplying these volumes by 2, we
get the total displacement of the ship.
A Rule similar to that of (II.) Note (2) may he found by making
a surface, the equation to which is of the form z = A + Ba: +
C«2 + Da:3 + B,v + C,!/2 + D,y3 -f Ea;y -f Vtx2y + Gxy2 +
Ila:2?/2 + Ix^y + Kxys + hxpy2 + Mx2y'A + Kr3?/3 pass through
sixteen points, since the equation contains this number of arbitrary
constants, which are determined as before, and the integrations are
taken from a: = 0 to a; = 3A, and y = 0 to y = 3A. We shall leave
this work for the student, and proceed at once to
Observe that vertical areas may be employed in the place
of horizontal areas, and care must be taken to omit the first
and last areas from the odd ones in each case.
Rule (II.) might have been employed ; but the following
is the neatest, most concise, and at the same time suffi¬
ciently accurate, that has yet been given. It is by the Rev.
Joseph Woolley, M.A., LL.D., Her Majesty’s Inspector of
Schools, to whom naval architects are under great obliga¬
tions for the attention he has given to this branch of
science:—
Rule V. (1.) Add together all the even ordinates in
the first and last horizontal planes.
(2.) Add together all the even ordinates in the 2>d, 5th,
'Ith, fyc., sections, omitting the first and last, and multiply
the sum by 2.
(3.) Add together all the first and last ordinates of all
the even horizontal planes.
(4.). Take twice the sum of all the ordinates, omitting
the first and last of all the even horizontal planes.
Then, add together the results of (1), (2), (3), (4), and
multiply this final sum by two-thirds of the product of
the common distances between the horizontal and vertical
planes, and this result gives the displacement.
Note 5.—Not having seen the demonstration by Dr Woolley to
this rule, the editors beg to offer the following, which must be
somewhat similar in principle.
Dr Woolley supposes fig. 4 to be divided into two portions by a
plane passing through C, B2 A3 a3 b2 c,, and the equation to the
surface passing through «, 6, c, b2 a2 a3 may be assumed as
z = A + B* + Ca2 + B,y + Cl2/2 + Day .... (I.)
And the limits are a = 0 and a = 2A, and since, A, C, = 2k, at
any point y, we must have y =
k.
k
C2h r(2h-x)f pih r(
.*. / J z dxdy = / /
kJ 0 «-/ 0 0 'J 0
Ca2 + B,y + C,y2 + Day).
’(2A — a)
k
^ dxdy (A + Ba 4-
T
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
«
1
146
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Bjfc2 / 4/t2 —4/ta: + a2 ^ + Cj^ f 8/t3 - 12/i2a; + 6/ta;2 - ^ v
>,fc2/4A2 —+ *2\ , Cj^3/
ir( r—) + -3-(
2 V
Wx/lh? - ±hx + ^1 2\ 1
+ ^V 
4BA.2ifc 4CA3k 4B.M2 4C.M3 2DA2yfc2 ,xrN
= 2AM + —g- + —3— + —3— + —3— + —3— (I1-)
Now, since the surface (I.) passes through the six points already
mentioned, we readily determine A, B, Cj, &c., as in the last note
Their values are
A = «j
2BA = 4«2 — ee-j — 3«j
2CA2 = aj — 2«2 + a.3
26^^ = 4JSJ — 7] — 3aj
2C1k2 = «! - S/Sj + n
T)hk — + jSj — «2 — /^i
Writing these values in (II.) it reduces to
_T , 2hk f 1
Volume = — | a2 + p1 + S2 j
In the same way, we find the volume of the figure Cj cx b2 a3 C3
2hk f )
— "3- | 72 + ^3 + ^2 j
Adding these results, we find for the whole volume Ax c3
2hk
~3~
| «2 + H + 2/32 + 03 + y2 }
With similar expressions for the other portions of the ship.
2hk (
.-. Whole volume = — j 0X + 0„ + 2(03 + 05 + 07 + &c )
+ («2 + 72 + “4 + 74 + &c0 + 2(02 + 04 + 06 + 08 + &c.j
To find the Centres of Gravity of Bodies.
Art. 3. As a knowledge of the centres of gravity of
bodies is of so much importance in the calculation of sta¬
bility, it has been thought advisable to introduce the sub¬
ject here at some length.
Various definitions have been given of the centre of
gravity of a body. It is shown in almost every work on
statics, that there is a point in (sometimes without) every
body such, that if the particles of the body be acted on
by parallel forces, and the point already mentioned be
fixed or supported, the body will remain in equilibrium,
no matter in what position it is placed ;l and when the
forces herein mentioned are replaced by the weights of the
elementary portions of the body, or bodies, this point is
known as the centre of gravity ot the body or bodies.2
Gravity, or the force which attracts all bodies towards
the earth’s centre, is supposed to act on every particle of
the body in parallel and vertical directions. This force is
supposed to be constant at the earth’s surface, and there¬
fore attracts all bodies with an equal intensity. The reader
will readily perceive that this hypothesis cannot differ ma¬
terially from the truth when he compares the earth’s radius
with the dimensions of all bodies at its surface, and re¬
members that this attractive force varies inversely as the
square of the distance. U nder these circumstances, then, Calcula-
the centres of gravity of bodies are calculated. This point tions inci-
cannot be obtained, however, without the aid of the integral demal to
calculus, except in the case of a few plane surfaces and ®S1|h"lng
solids. We shall premise that when bodies are homogene- p‘
ous, or of the same density throughout their parts,—that is,
having equal weights, comprised under equal volumes,—we
may then replace weights by masses, and conversely.
Thus if M represent the mass of a body, d the density of
a unit of the body, V the volume, W the weight, then
M = rfxV. ........ (1.)
W=g x d xV = <yM (2.)3
When a body is not homogeneous throughout its parts,
the determination of the centre of gravity becomes some¬
what more difficult.
To find the Centre of Gravity of an Area similar to fig. 1.
Art. 4.—Rule VI. Multiply the ordinates, beginning Centre of
at the first by 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, fyc., respectively, and employ gravity.
these as ordinates in Buie (I.); multiply the result thus
obtained by one-third of the common interval squared,
divide by the area of the curve, and the result gives the
distance we are to measure along Ax An—i.e., A1^r.4
Having obtained the distance A^, we may obtain the length of
the perpendicular Gg (G being the centre of gravity of the figure,
and g the point where the perpendicular drawn from G intersects
AjA1*.) by
Rule VII. To the sum of the squares of the first and
last ordinates, add four times the sum of the squares of all
the even ordinates, twice the sum of the squares of all the
odd ordinates; multiply by one-third the common inter¬
val, and divide this result by twice the area, the quotient
gives the perpendicular height of the centre of gravity above
the axis Ax An.5 6
Similar rules apply for finding the centres of gravity of the
displacement of a ship.
Art. 5. To find the centre of gravity of the displacement of
a ship floating in the water, and in a state of equilibrium—
The horizontal sections are taken at equal distances apart and
parallel to the plane of flotation. The vertical sections are also
taken at equal distances apart and parallel to the midship section.
The ship is then cut into two equal portions by a plane running
fore and aft, and at right angles to the two planes just mentioned.
In the following rules, half areas and half volumes are to be under¬
stood.
Rule VIII. Find the areas of all the horizontal sections
[such as those shown in the half-breadth plan) and multiply
these, beginning from, the first, or plane of flotation, by the
consecutive numbers 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, <fc., respectively ; intro¬
duce these products as ordinates into “ Simpsons Rule
multiply this result by one-third of the square of common
distance between the sections, divide by the volume, and the
quotient gives the distance of the centre of gravity below the
plane of flotation^
Rule IX. Find the areas of all the vertical sections,
multiply these, beginning from the first by the consecutive
numbers 0, 1,2, 3, 4, &;c., respectively, and work as in the
last rule ; the result thus obtained gives the distance of the
centre of gravity from the first vertical plane.
1 Pratt's Mechanical Philosophy, 2d edit., pp. 18 and 19.
2 The centre of gravity has also been defined as that point within or without the body, from which, if the body be conceived to be sus¬
pended, it will remain in equilibrium in any position.
3 “ g, or ‘ the accelerating force of gravity,’ is uniform, and is the same for all substances, and in the latitude of London = 32-18 feet,”
(Earnshaw’s ^Dynamics, 3d edit., p. 42.)
4 Care must be taken not to multiply by one-third of the common distance, as is mentioned in Rule I.
s The last ordinate must not be reckoned among the odd ordinates in these and the following rules.
6 Either the first vertical section of the main body nearest the bow or stern may be taken as the first.
SHIP-BUILDING.
147
Centre of
gravity.
Calcula- These two distances fix the position of the centre of gravity of
tions inci- the main body. Since a ship is symmetrical in regard to the plane
dental to which divides it, fore and aft, into two equal parts, we know that
designing the centre of gravity must lie in this plane,
a Ship. No account is here taken of the small portions at the stem, stern,
and that between the keel and last horizontal section. These are
usually calculated separately, and in the same way as the main
body. Having obtained the centres of gravity of all these por¬
tions, we readily obtain the centre of gravity of the total displace¬
ment by the rule which follows, observing, that if we consider the
first vertical plane to be that nearest the bow, the volume of the
small portion forward multiplied by the distance of its centre of
gravity from the plane just mentioned must be subtracted. Or, in
other words, if we consider all horizontal distances, measured in
the opposite direction (from the first vertical plane) to the centre of
gravity of the main body as negative, and all distances measured in
the same direction as positive, we have then only to add the products
algebraically, and this is to be understood in the following rule (one
product being always negative in Rule XI.) All results will be posi¬
tive in finding the distance of the centre of gravity below the plane
of flotation.
Rule X. Multiply each of the volumes by the perpen¬
dicular distance of its centre of gravity from the plane of
flotation, and add the products ; divide this result by the
sum of all the volumes, and the quotient is the distance of
the centre of gravity of the total displacement below the
plane of flotation. Also,
Rule XI. Multiply each of the volumes by the per¬
pendicular distance of its centre of gravity from the first
vertical plane, and add algebraically {observing that one
result will be negative), divide this result by the sum of all
the volumes, and the quotient is the distance of the centre of
gravity of the total displacement from the first vertical
plane.
One of the properties of Guldinus is also of great use in
finding centres of gravity when the necessary data are
supplied.
Rule XII. Any solid of revolution is equal to the area
of the surface which generates this solid, multiplied by the
circumference, which is described by the centre of gravity
of the latter.
Without attempting to demonstrate formula? (1.) of this
article, since a demonstration may be found in almost every
work on statics, we proceed to lay before the mathematical
reader the principles on which the centres of gravity are
calculated.
Note 6.—If we consider, in the first place, a system of material
points having weight, and connected in an invariable manner, the
weights of these points may be considered as so many vertical forces
acting in parallel directions. If, moreover, we take three fixed
planes, mutually at right angles to each other, their point of intersec¬
tion being the origin (as is done in Geometry of three dimensions) let
aq be the weight of the first material point, and its co-ordinates aq,
jq, iq, measured along the three co-ordinate axes: u2, x%, y2, z2, the
weight and co-ordinates of the second point, &c. &c.; also, let
y, z represent the co-ordinates of the centre of gravity of the
system of weights measured along the same axes, then we have
— 2 + a>2x2 + Myrs + &c.) \
2(a;1 + a2 + *>3 + &C. &C.)
2 {a\V\ + *>2y2 + aqyg + &c.)
2 (&q + aq + a/g + &C.)
,   2 {u\Zi + a2z2 + + &c-)
(1-)
2 (a/y + a/g + iWg 4- &C.)
Remark.—These formulas would be equally true if we suppose aq,
a»2> s'sj &c. to represent the weights of any bodies whatever, and
connected in an invariable manner, providing we suppose these
u>eights to act at their respective centres of gravity, and aq, tq, 2q, <Scc.,
to be the co-ordinates of these centres of gravity. Next, if we suppose
the density of the weights to be uniform throughout, we can re¬
place the weights by their respective volumes iq, v2, v3, &c. since
g X d appears both in numerator and denominator. The proposi- Calcula¬
tion is also true for areas. Therefore, if Aj, A2, A3, &c. represent tions inci-
areas dental to
—  2 (tqaq -f- v2x2 -f i>3.r3 + &c.) ^
2 (r1 + v2 + r3 + &c.)
or-_ 2 (Aqq + A 2t2 + A3t3 + &c.)
2 (jqjq +
2 (Ax + A
2 +
+ vsVs
3 + &c.)
+ &c.)
2 (• tq + v2 + v3 + &c.)
or~y = 2 (^1^1 + A2y2 +
2 (-^i + A2 + A3 + &c.)
J— 2 fpi + v2z2 + + &c.)
2 (iq + v2 + v2 + &c.)
or 7= 2 (^igi + A2z2 + A3^3 4- &c.)
(1.) a =
68 x0 + 32 x2 + 12x5+8x9
68 + 32 + 12 + 8
= R63 feet.
That is, if the balls were connected by an indefinitely fine rigid rod,
without weight, passing through the centres of the balls, the whole
might be suspended, and remain in equilibrium, at a point distant
I’fiS feet from the centre of the “ 68.”
(2.) Five cannon-balls, whose weights are 2, 8, 12, 32,
and 68 lbs., lie on the floor of a room, at the respective per¬
pendicular distances 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 feet from the side,
and 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 feet from one end of the room ; find
their common centre of gravity from that corner of the room
where the side and end (from which these distances are
measured) intersect, supposing the centres of the balls to
lie in the plane of the floor.
TT - 2x3 + 8x4+ 12 x5 + 32 x6 + 68 x7
Here a =   =
6’28 feet nearly.
2x1 + 8x2 + 12 x3 + 32 x4x 68 x5
y ~ 2 + 8 + 12 + 32 + 68 —
4,28 feet nearly.
But distance from corner
V*2 + y2
= V(6-28)2 + (4-28)2 =
7‘6 feet nearly.
(3.) Four cannon-balls, whose weights are 1, 8, 32, and
68 lbs., are suspended in a room (of the form of a parallel-
opipedon), their vertical heights from the floor being 2, 4,
6, and 5 feet, respectively, and their perpendicular distances,
from an end and side of the room, are 2, 4, 5, 6 feet, and
3, 5, 6, 7 feet, respectively ; find the distance of the centre
of gravity of the balls, from that corner of the room where
the side and end, herein mentioned, intersect.
designing
a Ship.
(2.)
2 (Aj + A2 + A3 + &c.) g
If the centres of gravity of the weights, volumes, or areas,
as the case may be, range in a right line, the first equation
gives the distance of their common centre of gravity from
the origin. If the weights, or areas, &c., are in the same
plane, the four former equations are all that are necessary
to determine the centre of gravity.
Premising that the centre of gravity of a ball, or sphere,
is at the centre of the body, we shall proceed to give two or
three examples on these formulae.
(1.) Four cannon-balls have their centres in the same
right line at 2, 3, and 4 feet, respectively, apart, and weigh
68, 32, 12, and 8 lbs. respectively ; that is, the “ 32 ” is 2
feet from the “ 68,” the “ 12” is 3 feet from the “ 32,”
&c. Find the distance of the common centre of gravity
from the centre of the “ 68 ” (supposing their centres to be
in the same horizontal line).
Taking the origin at the centre of the “ 68,” we have aq = 0,
x2 ~ 2, ff3 = 2 + 3 = 5, aq = 2 + 3 + 4 = 9 feet.
148
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Here the side, end, and floor of the room are the planes of refer¬
ence, and the origin at the corner, mentioned in the question, the
line where the side intersects the floor may be taken as the axis of
x, and the intersection of the end and floor as the axis of y, or, vice
versd, the intersections of the end and side being the axis of z.
- 1 * 2 + 8 x 4 + 5 X32 + 6 X 68 = 5,523ftne|irly_
y =
1+8+32 + 68
1X3 + 8X5 + 32 X 6 + 68 X 7 _
1 + 8 + 32 + 68
— 1x2 + 8x4 + 32 x6 + 68 x5
5-192
1 + 8 + 32 + 68
Again, it is easily shown that the distance of a point x, y, z,
from the origin is—
d — + y2 + *2 = V(5-523)2 + (6-523)2 + (5-192)2 =
10 feet nearly.
For if XOY he the plane of the
floor, XOZ the side, and YOZ the
end of the room, G- the centre of
gravity. Draw GZ J_ to the plane
XOY; and from Z draw ZX and
ZY respectively, _|_ to OX and
0 Y; then OX = x, OY = y, GZ =
z in the above equations, and since
the triangles OXZ, OZG are right-
angled,
OG2 = OZM-firZ2^ OX2 +
XZ2+ GZ^andXZ2
= OY2
M
M
These equations are to be taken between proper limits, and if Calcula-
the body is homogeneous, S will appear in both numerators and de- tions inci-
dental to
designing
nominators, and the equations may then be written :
V = f f f dx dy dz.
(2.) •{ — f f J x dx dy dz —   f f f y dx dy dz — _
1 x — y * y — y > 3 —
f f f z dx d y dz
V '
We may obtain a clearer idea of these integrals from the follow¬
ing considerations. Let us take the first of the latter set of equa¬
tions, and integrate, first, in regard to z, and next in regard to y,
observing that in these integrations x is constant, we may then
write
x f f dy dzy
Where the quantity within the brackets represents the product of
x by the area, A, of a plane section of the figure, perpendicular to
the axis of x, and at a distance x from the plane of zy.
a Ship.
=/{
dx.
__ /" occLoc —
.*. x = ———, and similar expressions may be obtained for y
If it be required to find the centre of gravity of any area, &c.
we have only to suppose it to lie in the plane of xy and formulae
(2) reduce to
{A=ff dx dy — f y dx (if we integrate in regard to y)
—_ff n d* dy C xy dx — ff y dx dy _ ^ f y2 dx
x    A    A > V    ' T    2J  A— •
... OG =a/OX2 + OY2 + GZ2
We might have determined the
centre of gravity of any system of
material points, or balls, not situ¬
ated in the same line, or plane,
and rigidly connected in the fol¬
lowing manner: Wj, W2, W3, &c. representing these material
points and their positions, join Wl W3, and let Gj be their common
centre of gravity, then these two points will act in the same man¬
ner as if their weights were collected at the point G1. Join Gt
W3, and let G2 be the centre of gravity of Wj, W2, acting at G^
and of W3 ; then Wj, W2, W3, may be conceived to act at G2. Join
G2 W4, &c. &c.
Note 7.—The principles made use of in equations (1.) may readily
be extended to any body, or system of bodies; for, suppose the
body referred to three co-ordinate planes mutually at right angles
to each other, their common point of intersection being the origin,
and aq, yx, zv the co-ordinates of any point in the body ; then it is
shown, in most works on the “ Calculus,” that the volume of an
infinitesimal parallelopipedon, at that point, is represented by Aaq
X Ay1 X Az1.1 Also, if ^represents the density of a unit of volume
at that point, the mass of the particle is Sj. Aaq . Ajq . AZj, and its
weight is Ax1 Ayx Azv But as g is constant, it follows that we
may either employ the weights or masses of the body in finding
its centre of gravity, and
M = 2 (Sj Aaq. Ay1. az2 + $2 + ax2 Ay2 az2 + &c. &c.)
—   2 (+] ^ AX] Ayj AZ2 + X2 $2 -2*2 ^2 A32 + &C.)
* —~ - M
—   2 (y, Sj Aaq Ajq AZj + y2 S2 Aa;2 Ay2 AZ2 + &c.)
y _
— __ 2 (z1 AXl Ay1 AZX + z2 S2 Ax2 Ay2 az2 + &c.)
M
But at the limit Aaq, Aj/1( AZl become dxlt dy-y, dZy, and dropping the
suffixes, and extending the summation, or rather integration, to all
the elements of the body, we obtain
(1-) M = /// dx dy dz . $.
Where S is given by an equation of the form §=/(«, y, z).
Hence x = fffxdxdydz.'S -= /// 7 =
f f f z dx dy dz 2
Remark.—In many cases it is convenient to employ polar co¬
ordinates to find centres of gravity, and we have for the transfor¬
mation
x z= r Bin 6 cos <p, y = r sin 6 sin <p,z z= r cos 6,
Formulae (2.) become
/— fff r3 sin • 20 cos <p dr. d6. d<p
fffr2 sin • 6 dr . d6 . d<p ’
. . j —  fff r3 sin •2^ sin • <p dr d4d<p
\ ') {y fff sin ‘ 6 dr d6 dtp ’
f ff rs sin • ^ cos 0 dr d6 d<f>
f ff r2 sin • 6 dr dd dcp ’
where f f f r2 sin • 0 dr d0 dtp between proper
limits gives the volume.
We shall at once proceed to show by formulae (3.) how to find
the centre of gravity of an area, similar to the horizontal or verti¬
cal sections of a ship, premising that the notation is the same as
that employed above (p. 140).
Note 8.—To find the centre of gravity of the portion A4 «3, the
equation to the parabola passing through cq, «2, «3, being (A the
common interval).
y = A + B x + Cx2, xi denoting Aj gq and yv Gj gy.
'2h
- _ f xy dx
f
x (A + B^ + Cx2) dx
f y dv
r
(A + Bx + Cx2) dx
A2 f I
- 6A + 8BA + 12CA2
—7    = a. / 6A + 8BA + 12CA2 \
^ | 6A + 6BA + 8CA2J l 6A + 6BA + 8CA2 i*
But by Note (1),formulae (2, 5, and 6) A = ec^B =
 „ t> 4«2 — «3 — Say
2A
.ndO = !^Ai+5l
Writing these in the above, we get
— _ 2A (2a2 + «3)
^ + «3 + 4«2’
In the same way, the centre of gravity of A3 A5, along the line
Ax An is found to be
A3S,2 = «3 + i. + q*5/ Ai $2 = Ai A3 + A3 ^2 ^ +
1 ax1, Ayv azv represent the respective increments of Xy, gj, z1.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Calcula- 2A («4 + «5)
tions inci- «3 + a5 + 4a4
dental to
designing x9 = 2h +
a Ship.
Zo = 4A +
, or if z2 = A, g2, *3 = A2g%, &c.
2A (2a4 + «5)   2A (a3 + 6«4 + 2a5)
“3 + ao + 4«4 «3 + a5 + 4a4
2/i (2«b + a7) _ 2^ (2«- + 10«6 + 3«r)
“g + «7 + 4a6
«5 + <*7 + 4«6
2/1 = 2
y2 dx
n2h ’ ‘ r
I y dx /
t/ 0 J 0
2h
, &c. &c.
Bat y2 = (A + Bz + Cz2)2 ; and this integration, added to the
work connected with the substitution into the form
~ Aiyi + A2y2 + &c-
A4 + A2 + &c.
would lead to an immense amount of labour, which may be avoided
by observing that the integral J yl dx may be taken to represent
the area of a curve, the ordinates of which are the squares of those
at given points of the curve, as «4, «2, *3, &c. With this under¬
standing, we readily find, by employing “ Simpson’s Rule,”
(II) w = 1 of “i2 + + 4 («22 + «.* + «62 + &c.) +
“l + a2 + 4 (“2 + «4 + a6 + &C.) +
2 (a32 -!■ a.2 + a72 -f &c.)
“177 ; ; ;—7—7- \ whence the centre of gravity of the
2 (a3 -1- a5 + a7 + &c.) ° ]
curve is completely determined.
Note 9.—We next proceed to show how the centre of gravity of
the volume of a figure similar to fig. 4, page 144, may be found, its
equation being
2 == A + Bz + Cz2 + B4 y + Cj y2 + Y)xy + Ez2 y + Ezy2 +
G4 z2 y2.
By formulae 2 if we integrate in regard to z,
rs.
If xz dxdy
f zdxdy
2k
xdxdy (A + Bz + Cz2 + B,y + C^2 + Vxy +
7^2h n 2k
0 t/ 0 dxdy (A + Bz + Cz2 + Bjy + Cj^2 + Dzy +
Ez2y + Ezy2 + Gz2y2)
Ez2y + Ezy2 + Gz2y2)
hk f
{ 36 AA + 48 Bh2 + 72 CA3 + 36 Bj hk +■ 48 Cj A/fc2 +
~ hk I '   
— | 36 A + 36 BA + 48 CA2 + 36 Bj/fc + 48 Cl A2 +
48 DA2A + 72 EA3& + 64 FA2A2 + 96 GA3A2}
36 DAA + 48 EA2A + 48 FA*2 + 64 GA2*2} ‘
But A = «,, B =
4 Ct() 3o6^ ““ CCq
 L
_ — 2«2 + «3
, &c.
2A ' ~ 2A2
as was shown on page 140. Introducing these values, we find—
— h ' 2 (2k2 + a3) + 8 (2g2 + g3) + 2 (2y2 + y3)
ai + 4«2 + «3 + 4 (/Sj + 4 ^2 + /33) + yi + i y2 + y3
And if g be the distance along the line A4 A„ of the centre of gravity
of the whole figure, we have by formula (2), since the areas may be
supposed to be collected at their respective centres of gravity, G4,
G2, G3, &c.
A — AreaA1flsxAy1 + areaA^a, ye. A-[g2 + area A6a7x A^g-f-
A.O OT X —— *       7 " '
Area A1 a3 + area A3 a5 + area A5 a7 +
&c. &c.
 Aj z4 + A2 z2 + A3 z3 + &c. + An z»
A1 A2 A3 "t" &c- + An
Introducing the values of A1; A2, A3, &c. xv z2, z3, &c. already
found, this reduces to
(I.) ^ {0 + (n — l) <x„ + 4 («2 + 3«4 + 5k6 + 7«8 + &c.
“l + + 4 («2 + «4 + «6 + a8 + &C.)
+ 2(2a3 4* ‘io's + 6«7 + &C.) ^
+ 2(0:3 + “5 + «7 + &C.) *
Next, to find Ggr, or y, we have
2A S'2h
— vJ 0 V2 dx ~ — x'S 0
 > y2 — 2
-__JJjzdxdy
ff zdxdy
7r*2h r2k
0 t/ 0
dxdy y(A + Bz + Cz2 + Bty
r* 2A r2k
0 do
+ C, y2 -
+ c4 y2 +
hk f
-g j 36 A* + 36 BA* + 48 CA2 A + 48 B4 A2 + 72 Cj A3
— hk , -  
-g | 36 A + 36 BA + 48 CA2 + 36 B4 A + 48 Cj A2
+ 48 DA*2 + 64 EA2*2 + 72 PAA3 + 96 GA2 A 1 ,. , „ .
+ 36 DAA + 48 EA2 A + 48 FAA2 + 64 GA2 A J ’ which' after m‘
troducing the values of the constant, and reducing, becomes
y = k. f ■ 2 (2^1 + 4-i) + 8 (W2 + >2) + 2 (2/38 + n) 1 _
( + 4a2+ ag + 4(/34 + 4/32 + ^3) + yj + 4^2 + yg /
Also,
7=//g2 dxdy
ff z dxdy ’
But, as before, we avoid the labour of integrations, &c., if we
consider the expression f f z2 dxdy as the volume of a figure, the
squares of the areas of which may be introduced into “ Simpson's
Rule.”
We should obtain similar expressions for the centres of gravity
of the volumes of the other solids, and by introducing the results
into the formulae—
- _ Vi z4 -f- V2 z2 -f- V3 zs -j- &c.
v4 + + V3 + &C.
—  V1 .Vi + ^2 ih + Ya ^3 +
y- Vl + v2 + v3 + &c.
we obtain the rule, in common use among naval architects,
namely :—
If Aj, A2, A3, &c. represent the areas of half the horizontal sec¬
tions, or the sections shown by the half-breadth plan, and A the
common interval between those sections, we know that the centres
of gravity of the areas in question lie in the planes of these areas at
distances 0, A, 2A, 3A, &c., respectively, from the origin.
,„T , - A, x 0 + («, — 1) AA„ -f- 4A (A2 3A4 -f 5A6 +
(IIL) •■•*= A1 + Ab+4(A2 + A1 +
6A8 + &c.) + 2A (2A3 + 4AS + 6A7 -f &c.) .
Afi + &c.) -f- 2 (A3 4“ A5 + A7 -h &c-)
-   , f (rt — 1) AB -)- 4 (A2 3A4 4- 5A6 4- &c.) 4~
0T x 1 ‘ l a4 4- ab 4- 4 (A2 + A4 4* a6 4“ &c-) +
2 (2A3 4~ 4Ag 4~ ^'c') 1 _
2 (A3 4- a5 4- a7 4-
In like manner, if Aj', A/, Ag', &c. represent the half areas of
the vertical section, and A the common interval between them.
. f(n-l)AB'4-4(A2'4-3A4'4-5Afi'4-&c.)
(IV.) Then 2/ - * | ^ + a„' + 4(A2' 4- A/ 4- A/ A- &c.)
-f 2 (2Ag' 4- 4A5' + &c.) 1 _
"1“ 2 (^3 + ^7 4" &c0 -*
Hence the centre of gravity of the displacement is determined;
for we know that it will lie somewhere in the plane which cuts the
vessel into two equal parts, and the value of z gives its distance
below the load-water plane, y gives its distance from the origin,
dxdy (A + Bz + Cz2 + B4y
+ Cj y2 + Dzy + Ez2y + Ezy2 4 Gz2y2)
+ Cj y2 + Dzy + Ez2 y + Fzy2 + Gz2 y2)‘
149
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
150
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
SHIP-BUILDING.
which may be taken for convenience at the point of intersection of
the load-water plane, the plane just mentioned, and the first verti¬
cal plane next the bow, or stern (as the calculator pleases). We
will suppose the former, and that the centres of gravity of the small
portions, fore and aft, and below the last horizontal plane, are not
taken into account. Let Vy, Va, V*, be their volumes, */, xk,
yf, ya, Ik, the distances of their centres of gravity from the origin.
Therefore', for the whole ship, V representing the volume between
the first and last vertical sections,
— Va; + Vita:*—Vyay
v + v* + va+v/
V + V* + Va + Vy
Observe that Vy ay has a negative sign because it is in the oppo¬
site side of the origin to the other quantities, that is, ay is negative.
Note 10.—The mathematical reader will at once perceive that
these are not the only rules which might be obtained to calculate
the centre of gravity of a vessel. As has been remarked before,
the Calculus of Finite Difference again comes to our aid ; and, by
neglecting small orders of differences, we may obtain any number
of rules we please. As an instance, let us take the case given by Mr
Weddle for a curve passing through seven points, and suppose
sixth differences constant. We have for x, using the same notation
as in Note 3,
x — fxy dx taken between proper limits ; and y = a + zia +
2 ^ 1) ^ &c.; where Multiplying this by zdz =
: have x or jj Ixy dx = I
—— -j-
2 -3-4 ~
10z6 35z5 _ 50z4 24z3 \ A5 a
6 5 4 3 / 2 ■ 3 • 4
85z6 225z5 274z4 120z3 \
^ g~ ~~5 ^ i 3 y
•5
x
A6
a
1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5'6
&c. &c.
Introducing these values, and reducing
^ = L j 36 a2 -j- 9«3 + 136 a4 18 a3 -(- 180 a6 -j- 61«7) |
= ^ | 28 + 4 (^2 + 3a4 + Sag) + («3 + 2«5 +
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
4*9) } > which will give a result much more accurate than that ob¬
tained by “ Simpson’s Rule.” The result for y may be obtained
by “ Simpson’s Rule,” or by squaring the value of y, given above,
and neglecting the squares and products of higher order of differ¬
ences.
Note 11. The reader will have no difficulty in obtaining for Property of
any plane surface 1 Guldinus.
— J f y dx dy
v fvdx 5
or y X A = £ / (Yj2 — Y02) da; if A represent the area of the
surface, and Y1 Y0 denote the limits of y. Multiply both sides
by 2!r.
.-. A X 2w y = <x f Y^ dx — f Y02 dx.
The left hand side is the area of the surface multiplied by the cir¬
cumference described by its centre of gravity, and the right hand
side denotes the difference of the volumes of revolution described
by the plane surfaces comprised between the axis of *, the extreme
ordinates, and the two curves which terminate the generating
surface.2
(1.) Find the centre of gravity of an area, similar to fig. Examples.
(1.) page 140, the equidistant ordinates measuring 2'5,
3, 3-5, 4, 5, 6, 5-5, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1-5 and 1 feet, respectively,
the common interval being 2 feet.
1st, To find the Area by “ Simpson’s Rule.”
Ordinates.
Ordinates. Ordinates.
2- 5 first ordinate. 3 second ord.
1-0 last „ 4 fourth „
  6 sixth ,,
3- 5 sum of first and last ord. 5 eighth „
3 tenth „
1'5 twelfth „
22-5 sum of „
3- 5 third ordinate.
5 0 fifth „
5'5 seventh „
4- 0 ninth „
2-0 eleventh „
20 sum of odd ord.
o
4
  40 twice sum of ord.
90'0 four times sum of ordinate.
40,0 twice sum of odd „
3*5 sum of first and last „
133-5
2 common interval.
3)267
Taking this integral from « = 0 to z = 6, or as = 0 to 2: — 6A,
and multiplying by A2, we find, after considerable reductions,
x = h2 {18a -j- 72 Aa -f- 126 A2 a ^3 a _J_ a4 a -|-
639 .
"35" A5 '
+
123
79
“}•
We might obtain a tenth rule by neglecting small quantities;
but we shall simply write down the total result, leaving the reader
to obtain any other rules he may think proper.
a — al
Act = ct2 — ai
A2a = — 2a 2 -f-
&c. &c.
89 = area.
2d, To find the Distance of the Centre of Gravity from Aj.
1st, 2-5 X 0 = 0 \
2d, 3 X 1 = 3
3d, 3-5 X 2 = 7
4th, 4 x 3 = 12
5th, 5 X 4 = 20
6th, 6 x 5 = 30
7th, 5 5 x 6 = 33 >
8th, 5 x 7 = 35
9th, 4 x 8 = 32
10th, 3 x 9 = 27
11th, 2 x 10 = 20
12th, 1-5 x 11 = 16'5
13th, 1 x 12 = 12 /
ordinates multiplied by 0, 1, 2, 3, &c.
1 This and other properties are due to Pappus, and were published by Guldinus, a Jesuit, who was Professor of Mathematics at Rome,
in the middle of the seventeenth century.
2 See any work on the Calculus for the interpretation of the expressions on the right hand side.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to Results,
designing 0 first result,
a Ship. 12 last „
12 sum of
By “ Simpson’s Rule.”
Exercises
or prac-
ice.
Results.
3 second result,
fourth „
sixth „
eighth „
tenth ,,
12
30
35
27
16'5 twelfth
123-5 sum of even results.
4
494
224
12
Results.
7 third result.
20 fifth „
33 seventh ,,
32 ninth „
20 eleventh „
112 sum of odd results.
2
224
four times
two times
first and last
(5.) Find the same when the equidistant ordinates mea¬
sure 17, 18, 18-5, 19, 19-5, 20, 20-5, 21, 22, 23, 22, 21-5,
20, 19, and 18 feet, their distance apart being 4 feet apart.
Distance along Ax An from A2 = 28-605.
Distance above Aj An at the above point = 10-134.
Examples on the Calculation of the Centre of Gravity of
Displacement.
Half-Horizontal Areas,
in square feet,
found by Simpson’s Rule.
1289-25 X 0
300-05 x 1
325-00 x 2
151
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
730
2 common interval.
3)1460
486-66
2 common interval.
Common interval,
1 foot.
973- 3
973.3
Distance of centre of gravity from Aj = -- = 12-4344.
89
(2-5)2 =
32 ~
(3-5)2 =
42 =
S2 —
62 =
(5-5)2 =
S2 —
42 _
32 —
22 =
(1-5)2 =
l2 =
6-25
9-00
12-25
16-00
25-00
36-00
30-25
25-00
16-00
9-00
4-00
2-25
1
9-00
16-00
3600
25-00
900
2-25
97-25
12-25
25-00
30-25
16-00
4-00
400-25
405-25
450-65
470-75
490-00
495-25
500-00
487-65
470-55
460-65
450-75
435-25
400-15
390-00
375-25
35000
10
X 11
X 12
x 13
x 14
X 15
X 16
X 17
x 18
7643'23 — volume by Simpson’s Rule
Half-Areas multiplied by
0,1,2, 3, &c.
= 000-00
= 300-05
= 650-00
= 1200-75
= 1621-00
= 2253-25
= 2824-50
= 3430-00
= 3962-00
= 4500-00
= 4876-50
= 5176-05
= 5527-80
= 5859-75
= 6093-50
= 6002-25
= 6240-00
= 6379-25
6300-00
87-
389
175 twice sum of odd ord. sqd.
four times sum of even ord, squared.
6-25
1
7-25 sum of first and last ordinates squared.
38900
175-00
Common interval,
10-56 feet.
571-25
By last process, we have
.-. Perpendicular Gg = = 2-139, &cd
2. Find the centre of gravity of a figure similar to the
above, when the ordinates are taken 3 feet apart, and mea¬
sure 1-25, 2-35, 4-56, 7-87, 8-97, 9-65, 10-54, 9-97, 8-65,
7 54, 6 34, 7*43, 5*42, 4 53, 4'23 feet, respectively.
Distance along the axis from Aj = 20-82.
Distance above the axis at the above point = 3-945.
(3.) Find the same, as in the last example, when the
equidistant ordinates measure 20, 20*5, 21, 22, 22-5, 23
24-5, 25, 26 ; 25, 24, 23 ; 23, 22-5, 21, 20; 19, 18, and 17
eet, respectively, and are taken at 6 feet apart.
Distance along the axis Ax Aw from Aj = 52-82.
Perpendicular distance above ditto at the above point = 11-18.
(4.) Find the same, as in the former examples, when the
ordmates are 0, 2, 3, 3-5, 4-5, 5, 6, 7-5, 8, 8*5, 9, 8, 7, 6,'
•'or'5’ ’ ^ ^ anc^ ^ feet, and their distance apart
is 2 feet. r
Distance along Aj An from A! ^ 20 feet nearly.
Distance above Aj A„ at the above point = 3-0506.
Half-vertical Areas in
square feet.
^ 49-75
49-95
52-00
54- 25
56-45
78-43
60-00
55- 25
48-65
47-00
45-75
43-50
42-23
40-22
38-21
x
x
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X 12
x 13
X 14
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
Half-Areas multiplied
by 0,1,2, &c. respectively.
= 000-00
= 49-95
= 104-00
= 162-75
= 225-80
= 39215
= 36000
= 386-75
= 389-20
= 423-00
= 457-50
= 478-50
= 506-76
= 522-86
534-94
Volume by Simpson’s Rule = 7643-23 nearly.
1st, Beginning with the results in the right hand column of the
horizontal section,
Results. Results.
0000-000 300-05
6300-000 1200-75
•  2253-25
6300 000 sum of 1st and last 3430-00
4500-00
5176-05
5859-75
6002-25
6379-25
Results.
650-00
1621-00
2824-50
3962-00
4876-50
5527-80
6093-50
624000
— [results.
■ [results. 31795-30 sum of otto
35101-35 sum of even 2
  63590-6 twice do.
140405-4 four times d0,
63590-6 twice sum of odd do.
6300-0 sum of first and last do.
210296
 1^
3)210296
common interval.
70098-6 result obtained by “ Simpson’s
Rule.”
the ordinates^err^ ^ c^fc^ on w°rk by observing the length of the axis A, An, and observing also whether or not
gravity will bp dpt 6 • eS“n^lnS <^1ffer widely from those at the end. If the ordinates do not differ widely in this sense the centre of
than a tie end theTT / & ^ PfrPend.icalar to its middle point. If the ordinates are greater near the bSin5
the end. the centre of gravtty determined along A, An will be nearer the first ordinate than the last, and vice versd beglllnm°
152
SHIP-BUILDING.
Calcula¬
tions inci¬
dental to
designing
a Ship.
Therefore, distance of centre of gravity of main body below the
, , „ A A. 70098-6
plane of notation = —   
x volume,
70—8- = 9-17 feet.
7643-23
2d, Taking the results in the right hand column of the vertical
section,
Results. Results. Results.
000-00 first result. 49‘95 104-00
534-94 last do. 162-75 225-80
  392 15 36000
534"94 sum of do. 386"75 389-20
423-00 457-50
478-50 506-76
522-86   [results.
[results. 2043-26 sum of odd
2415-96 sum of even 2
4
  4086-52 twice do.
9663-84 four times do.
4086-52 twice sum of odd do.
534-94 sum of first and last.
14285-30
10-56 common distance.
857118
714265
1428530
3)150852-768
  [Rule.”
50284-256 result obtained by “ Simpson’s
10-56 common distance.
301705536
251421280
502842560
531001-74336
.-. distanceof centre ofgravity from first vertical section =
531001-74
7643-23
= 69-47 feet.
We shall suppose the first vertical section 49-75 to be that nearest
the bow, and
234-25 cubic feet, to be the volume of the portion below the last
horizontal section, or the portion just above
the keel.
22-5 feet, the distance of its centre of gravity
below the plane of flotation.
70" „ from the first vertical plane.
324-75 cubic feet, the volume of the portion before the first verti*
cal plane, or between this plane and the
bow.
10 and 7 feet, the respective distances of the
centre of gravity from the same
planes as above.
576-00 cubic feet, the volume of the portion aft of the last verti¬
cal plane, or lying between this plane and
the stern.
8 and 160 feet, the respective distances of the
centre of gravity from the planes
already mentioned.
Then, if df, dv, be the distances of the centre of gravity of the
total displacement from the planes of flotation and first vertical,
we have
_ 7643-23 x 9 17 + 234-25 x 22-5 + 324-75 x 10 + 576 x 8
f~~ 7643-23 + 234-25 + 324-75 + 576
= 9-48 feet below the plane of flotation.
_ 7643-23 x 69-47 + 234-25 X 70 + 576 X 160-324-75 x 7
v ~ 7643-23 -1- 234-25 + 576 + 324-75
= 71-8 nearly.
The reader will perceive that all the quantities are added Stability
in obtaining the former result, and that the last one is sub- of Floating
tracted in the latter case. The reason for this is, that, in v Bodies-
the latter case, the portion forward lies on the opposite side
of the first vertical plane to all the rest, or is measured, what
we have called, backwards. Now, if we had considered the
first vertical section, 49-75, as being taken at the stern, then
324*75 x 7 would have been added, and 576 x 160 sub¬
tracted, in consequence of the portion aft lying, in this case,
on the opposite side of the first vertical plane to the other
portions. In the first result, all the portions lie below the
plane of flotation. We also perceive that the centre of
gravity lies between the sixth and seventh vertical sections,
inasmuch as their common distance is 10*56, and 10-56 x 6
= 63-36; also, 10-56 x 7 = 73*92; therefore 71*8 - 63*36
= 8*44 feet abaft the sixth section.
STABILITY OF FLOATING BODIES.
Art. 6.—Various definitions have been given of the Theory;
stability of floating bodies. The reader will probably com- General
prehend the term from the explanation and definitions principles,
which follow.
Euler, in his Theory of the Construction of Vessels, &c.,
as translated by Colonel Watson, observes, that “ As soon
as a vessel becomes ever so little inclined, or displaced from
its state of equilibrium, three consequences may happen :—
1st, Either the vessel remains in the inclined state; or, 2dly,
It re-establishes itself in its preceding situation, when its
equilibrium will be permanent, or rather, it will be endowed
with a stability which may be great or little according to
circumstances; or, Sdly, The vessel after this inclination
will be completely overturned. This equilibrium is called
unstable, or ready to fall. We can see, evidently, that
neither this last case nor the first can have place in vessels ;
and, with respect to the second case, a sufficient stability is
absolutely necessary.”1
The last remarks here made are not altogether true
when a vessel is inclined through considerable angles by
impulsive forces. We shall therefore proceed to investi¬
gate the different kinds of stability.
Def. (I.)—Statical Stability is defined to be the mo- Statical
menl of force (or effort), by which a floating body endea- stability.
vours to regain its upright or vertical position, after having
been deflected from that position.
Def. (II.)—Dynamical Stability is defined to be the
amount of work2 * done on any body, in order to deflect it
through any angle from its upright position.
As has already been stated, it is shown in books on Hy¬
drostatics, that when a body floats in equilibrium, the fol¬
lowing conditions must be fulfilled :—
1st, g'gVd = or simply jVd = M,
where M represents the mass of the floating body, Vd the volume
of water displaced, j the density of a cubic unit (say a cubic foot)
of water, and g the accelerating force of gravity.
Ind, The centres of gravity of the body, and of the water which
it displaces, must lie in the same vertical line—that is, in a line at
right angles to the plane of flotation.
M
From the first condition, namely = —, it is at once manifest,
S
that in many bodies, such as some of the solids of revolution, this
will furnish us with an infinite number of positions of equilibrium,
for all of which the second condition will be fulfilled.
When a body is inclined through any angle from its upright
position, the plane of flotation will differ in position from the
plane of flotation in the former case ; and for every plane of flota¬
tion the centres of gravity of the vessel and its displacement will,
1 Fide chap, iv., sect. 22, of the work here mentioned. .
2 By the amount of work, here alluded to, is meant the weight of the body, in pounds avoirdupois, multiplied by the vertical height,
in feet, of the sum or difference of displacements of the centres of gravity of the body and of the water which it displaces.
SHIP-BUILDING.
153
Art. 7. Theorem I.—The line
joining the centres of gravity of the
displacement of the body in any two
positions is parallel to the line joining
the centres of gravity of the immersed
and emerged portions due to these po¬
sitions.
Stability in general, have different positions. If we suppose the vessel to
>f Floating and pitch1 uniformly through any finite angles, the centre of
Bodies, gravity of displacement Gj, or centre of buoyancy, as this point is
, | , j sometimes called, will describe a portion of a surface in the interior
of the vessel.
It will readily he comprehended by the reader, that a vessel
may possess a great amount of both kinds of stability specified in
the definitions up to a certain point, that is, through a given angle
from its upright position, and then instantaneously become un¬
stable. Sufficient attention has not been paid to this fact, inas¬
much as writers on stability, as applied to ships, generally neglect
to discuss the case of unstable equilibrium. It is a well-known
fact, that ships have been capsized through unforeseen impulsive
forces, as in the case of the Royal George.2 When the vessel
has been inclined through any angle, it has been always customary
to assume that the volume of the portion
which is emerged is equal to that which is
immersed. This is not accurately true, on
account of the inertia of the vessel and the
water, as well as on account of the effect of
the wind in the sails, which may tend to
increase the total displacement.
traced out by this point during the rolling and 'pitching of Stability
the vessel, is parallel to the plane of flotation correspond- of Floating
ing to that position. Bodies.
Art. 8.—If G (fig. 7) denote the centre of gravity of the float-
ing body, and Gd that of the water displaced, then in positions of
equilibrium Gd G is a normal11 to the surface described by the
latter points. For, by the second condition of equilibrium, given
in Art. 14, Gd G, is necessarily perpendicular to the plane of flota¬
tion, and is, therefore, perpendicular to the tangent-plane at the
point Grf, since the latter plane is parallel to the former. Let
us suppose the surface traced out by Gd to be actually described,
then if from G, the centre of gravity of the body, we draw all
the normals which it is possible to do from this point to the sur¬
face, we shall determine as many positions of Gd as there are
For, let FKL' represent a transverse sec¬
tion of the body, made by the plane of the
paper, and G<j, G^ the projections of the
centre of gravity of displacement in the
two positions, ge, gi the projections of the
centres of gravity of the emerged and im¬
mersed volumes due to the two positions.
Then the immersed portion of the body in
the two positions will have the common part
Vd-v
(the section of which is shown by F'PLK),
where v represents the volume of the part
emerged or immersed.
Let O' be the projection of the centre of
gravity of the volume Vj — v on the plane
of the paper, then by the principles which
have been already enunciated (Art. 4, p. 147,
&c.), the centre of gravity Gd is determined
from
Fig. 7.
Gd 0<3 X v = Gd O' X (Vd — v) (1.)
and the centre of gravity G'^, in like manner from
G'd X u = G'd O'X (Vd —v) .... (2.)
By (1.) and (2.) ge Gd X G'd O' = gi G'd X Gd O';
or, ge Gd : Gd O' :: gi G'd : G'd O';
hence Gd G'd is parallel to g6 gi. (Euclid, vi. 2.)
Next, if wre consider the volumes immersed and emerged to be
infinitely small, or, in other words, the two planes of flotation, of
which FL, F'L', are the projections, to be indefinitely near, the
centres of gravity of these two volumes may be considered as situ¬
ated in the plane of flotation (FL). In this case Gd G'd becomes
parallel to FL, that is, Gd G'd becomes a tangent at Gd, to the curve
traced out by the latter point in the plane of the paper. This is
rigorously true at the limit, no matter in which direction we sup¬
pose the body to revolve (through an infinitely small angle); it fol¬
lows, therefore, that all the tangents drawn through Gd are pa¬
rallel to the plane of flotation; hence
Theorem II.—The tangent plane,3 * * * * drawn through the
centre of gravity of displacement in position to the surface
normals, and consequently as many planes of flotation, for all of
which there will be equilibrium of one kind or the other—that is,
stable or unstable.
A rolling motion will be sufficient to establish the following
principles —
Let us suppose the plane of the paper to be that transverse
vertical section of the vessel which contains the centres of gravity
of the vessel and its displacement when floating at rest. Next let
the body be made to roll through any angle, and the point G<*
will describe a curve in the sihne plane, which is represented
by AGrfB.
Let G^ G'd (fig. 7) be two consecutive positions of the centre of
gravity of displacement (that is, two positions indefinitely near to
each other); draw normals through these two points to the curve
AGdB, and let them intersect in M, the latter point in geometry
and analysis receives the name of the centre of curvature ; but in
regard to the floating body it was named by Bouguer the meta¬
centre, and the circle described through Gd with radius MGd is
called the circle -of curvature, or sometimes the osculating circle.
The curve described by the centre of gravity of displacement
(centre of buoyancy) has been named the metacentric curve. Mr
Read, late master-shipwright of H.M. Dockyard, Sheerness, pro-
1 By a rolling motion is understood a motion about a longitudinal axis, or from stem to stern. By a pitching motion is to be under¬
stood the motion of the vessel about an axis at right angles to the former axis, or ab.out an axis which lies in a transverse vertical
section. During a rolling motion only, the centre of gravity of the vessel will remain in the same transverse section; and during a
pitching motion only, the centre of gravity will remain in a vertical section at right angles to the former. When the motion is due to
rolling and pitching combined, the vessel will revolve about an instantaneous axis, which may be determined.
2 And in all probability many other vessels.
3 By a tangent-plane is here meant a plane which touches the surface described by Gd at a given point, and which, if produced, does
not intersect this surface. For the general definition of a tangent-plane and its properties, see Hymers’s and Gregory and Walton’s
Geometry of Three Dimensions.
By a normal to a surface at a given point is meant the line drawn at right angles to the tangent-plane at that point.
VOLk XX. tt
154
SHIP-BUILDING.
Stability posed to call it the meta^entric involute, and the curve described by
of Floating M the metacentric evolute,^ which terms are strictly in accordance
Bodies, with mathematical theory.
v r _L / It will be seen hereafter that the position of the metacentre is
of the greatest importance in the determination of the stability
and times of oscillation of vessels. Its height above the centre of
gravity of displacement may be determined as follows—
Art. 9 The notation and figure remaining the same as in the
previous article ; the ordinates measured on the half-breadth
plan at the load-water line being employed.
Rule XIV.—Cube the ordinates measured on the half¬
breadth plan, introduce these cubes as ordinates in Rule
I., p. 140, and proceed as therein stated ; divide the result
thus obtained by the volume of water displaced, and two-
thirds of the quotient gives the distance of the metacentre
from the centre of gravity of displacement.
Let the vessel be slightly inclined from its upright position, we
may consider the areas FPF' and LPL' to be two equal sectors of
the same circle ;2 then ge gi, the line joining their centres of gravity,
will bisect this angle. Draw ge pv g{ qx perpendicular to FF', and
GdR perpendicular to MG'^.
Let r = FP = F'P = LP = L'P, and it is well known that the
centres of gravity are determined by
p  p  2 r. chord FF' 2 r . chord LL'
ge— gi— 3 arc FF' ~ _3 arc LL'
4 r sin ~
3
, <p being = < FPF'
But area of sector FPF' or PLL'=-
<P
And
I>Pl=P2,i = Ps'e-cos|-=:P$ri .cos|=
4 r sincos
?>
2 2 r sin p 3
3 <p ’
2 2 3 <p
Also moment of sector FPF', or sector LPL', = area FPF' X P p!
t r t~» r 2 2 r sin a
= area LPL' x P gq = —r X —^  .
 r 3 sin ^
~ 3 '
3 <p
(I-)
Now, since the solids emerged and immersed are supposed to be
equal, and that these solids may be conceived to be collected at
their respective centres of gravity, it is clear that the centre of
gravity of the volume of water emerged has been moved from
to ql in the direction F'L', while the total volume of water dis¬
placed by the vessel has been transferred from Gd to B, in a
parallel direction. Hence taking moments, we have, by elementary
mechanical principles,
GdRXf X Vd=p1g'1Xf Xu. . . ... (II.)
Or, GdR . Vd =Pi<li • u.
But the angle FPF' = angle GdMG'd between two consecutive
normals
.•. MGd sin ip = G^R
From (II.) MGd =  (III.)
v ' Vd sin p v '
Now, if we imagine a plane drawn parallel to the plane of the
paper, or to the section shown in the figure, and at the infini¬
tesimal distance ax, the moments of the volumes of the solids
emerged and immersed will be represented by
sin P ^ /t \ sin ,
■ - g 1 rs A x, from (I.), or —^Jr^dx’,
by employing the notation of the Integral Calculus, observing that
the integral here given must be taken from stem to stern.
.*. MGd — ? Q, ' —1 fr3 dx. . . . from (III.)
3 Vd sin <pj v y
= akfr3‘” (IV°
Stability
of Floatim
the load-water section FL, about a horizontal axis through the
centre of gravity.
It ought to be observed that, though we have here obtained the
position of the metacentre of the vessel when in a vertical
position, this point may in like manner be obtained, by employing
the same rule, when the vessel is inclined through any angle,
providing we substitute the ordinates of the inclined load-water
section for those of the load-water section of the vessel when in an
upright position.
Art. 10.—Having obtained the position of the metacentre, we
are now in a position to determine the nature of the equilibrium
when a vessel is in any position; for, if we call the lengths of the
lines drawn from G, perpendicular to the curve described by Gd,
normals, then
Theorem III.—Positions of stable equilibrium cor¬
respond to minimum normals, and positions of unstable
equilibrium correspond to maximum normals : also these
normals will have alternately maximum and minimum
valuesf
Various demonstrations of this theorem have been given in
books on Hydrostatics, and the reader will find the subject dis¬
cussed in the Mechanic's Magazine, a periodical which contains
many valuable papers on shipbuilding. The following exposition
of the principle may be found sutficient for the mathematical
reader.
If (fig. 7) M be the centre of curvature corresponding to Gd, and
situated at first above G, the osculating circle at G'd will lie both
within and without the curve AGdB in the immediate neighbour¬
hood of Gd, and the circle described from G as a centre, with
radius GGd, will lie entirely within the curve in the vicinity of
Gd, and the normal GGd will be a minimum among all those drawn
from G to the points of the curve in the neighbourhood of Gd;
that is, GGd will be less than GG'd and GG"d. If M lie below G,
we learn by the same reasoning that GGd is greater than GG'd and
GG"d, since the circle described from G with radius GGd lies en¬
tirely without the curve AGdB; that is, the contact is of the
third order.5
These normals are alternately maxima and minima, since be¬
tween two maximum values there is a minimum, and a maximum
between two minima. There are as many maximum as minimum
values; hence the number of positions of equilibrium, neglecting
the hind, is even. Moreover,
Theorem IV.— When the metacentre lies above the
centre of gravity of the vessel, the equilibrium is stable.
For, if we incline the vessel in such a manner that Gd shall be
at G'd, indefinitely near to Gd, the normal at G'd will pass through
M (since the latter point is the intersection of two consecutive
normals); then the weight of the water displaced applied at G'd
will be parallel to MG'd, and will act upwards, whilst the weight
of the body at G' will act downwards in the direction parallel to
MG'd, and it is evident that the effect of these two forces will be
to bring the points M and G'd into their original position.
Theorem V.— When the metacentre lies below the
centre of gravity of the vessel, the equilibrium is unstable.
For, inclining the vessel as before, through an indefinitely
small angle, the effect of the two forces just mentioned will be to
bring G' and M into a vertical position; and since G is above M,
the vessel will be capsized.
Theorem VI.—When the metacentre coincides with the
centre of gravity, the equilibrium is said to be indifferent
or neutral; that is, the vessel will rest in the position in
which it is then placed.
Art. 11.—Having obtained the hind of stability, we may
Bodies.
Af
The integral, / r3 d# is sometimes named the moment of inertia of
1 The metacentric curve is that made by any plane (a transverse vertical one in the present case) with the metacentric surface.
2 It is not necessary to consider the sectors as equal, providing we bisect the angle FPF'; and with centre P and radii PC, PC', we
describe arcs of circles intersecting the two planes of flotation (the projections of which are FL and F'L'), the same result as is obtained
below may be shown to hold true.
3 Because 2 sin f- cos = sin <p.
4 Maximum and minimum values mean greatest and least values.
5 See Hall’s Calculuses, p. 200.
SHIP-BUILDING.
155
Fig. 8.
Stability at once obtain the analytical condition for the natural
af Floating stability of a body after having proved the following:—
Bodies. .
Theorem VII.—The centre of gravity of a plane of flo¬
tation lies on the line of its intersection, with a plane of flo¬
tation indefinitely near to the former plane.
Let PQ represent the intersection of the two planes here men¬
tioned, g,g', the centres of
gravity of the areas EPQ
and LPQ, the areas being
denoted by A and A'.
Now, the centre of gra¬
vity of FPLQ, is obtained
by dividing into two
parts reciprocally propor¬
tional to those areas. Let,
then, tp be the infinitely
small angle between the
two planes of flotation, l
and V the perpendicular
distances of g, g', from
PQ. As the wedge-like
portions emerged and im¬
mersed are exceedingly
small, we may apply the principle of Guldinus, given at page 147,
viz.:—1
Volume F'FPQ = A/p, and volume LL'PQ = AYp; and since
these volumes are equal
.'. Alp ■=. Al'p or Al = A'l';
that is, Z: Z' :: A': A (1)
From the similar triangles ghO, g'h'O, we have,
l:l'::gO:g’0 (2)
hence by (1) and (2),
gO : g'O :: A' : A;
that is, 0 is the centre of gravity of the plane of flotation.
It is clear that the point 0 will trace out a curve in the plane of
the paper, provided the body be made to revolve through a finite
angle in this direction, and F'L' is a tangent at 0 to this curve.
Moreover, the vessel might be made to revolve in any direction,
and the point 0 would then trace out what is called the surface of
flotation. From the manner in which we have obtained the result
just given, we arrive at Euler’s theorem, viz.,—
The point of contact of the plane of flotation with, the surface of
flotation is the centre of gravity of that plane.
Moreover, if we conceive (aAj) to represent an elemental portion
of the plane FPQF, and rx the distance of this element from PQ,
then p (AAj) will represent the corresponding volume of the
portion FPQF', assuming it to be a solid of revolution, and the
total volume is got from
v=zp {(AAj) r1 + (AA2)r2 + (AA3) r3 + &c.} = pi (aA)»\
We know from the formula for determining the centre of gravity
of bodies (p. 146), that
s0 _ ,p{(AA1)ri2 + (AA2>22+ (aA3) rf + &c.}
<p{(AAj)ri + (AA2)r2+(AA3)r3+&c. }
. . . „ p T dA. r2
_ fl (A A) r2 _ ff 
~ pi(AA)r pJUA.r
By employing the notation of the Integral Calculus, and bearing in
mind that these integrals are to be taken between proper limits:—
J' dA . r2 is called the moment of inertia of the plane
PQF in regard to the axis PQ, the density being unity.
pk.
gO = —a, . Aq representing this moment of inertia; also,
S^O = , where A;2 represents the moment of inertia of the
plane LPQ, in regard to the same axis.
But gg’ = grO + g'O = (^i + hf) ^ ^ejng tke moment 0f
V v
inertia of the plane FPLQ in regard to PQ. Returning again to
Bg; 1) where ge, gi, represent the centres of gravity of the inde¬
finitely small volumes emerged and immersed, we have shown that
y« £7i is parallel to Gd G'd.
&d &'d Vd  pk. _ Stability
gegi ~ v ~ Yd’ of Floating
and p being the angle between two consecutive normals, then Bodies.
MG<2 = ^ - since p is exceedingly small, and the
sin p p ’ r ° J
sine may be taken equal to the arc, and ge gi is the same as the
value of g g' (given above) at the limit; hence
•••••••••• o->
We have seen that the condition of stable equilibrium is MG^
>GU^; so that if h denote the distance GG^, the condition is
k pk
^->.h, or a—;
Vd W
(II.)
Theorem VIII.— The moment of inertia of the plane of
flotation must he greater than the product of the volume of
water displaced, and the distance between the centres of
gravity of the body and its displacement.
The value of k may be found from Equation IV., Art. 9.
From (I.) GdM = GGd + GM = ^
GM = lt—GGd 
W
(III.)
Art. 12.— To determine the line of intersection of the
plane of flotation of the vessel, when in a vertical position
with the plane of flotation, when the vessel has been inclined
through any angle ; or to determine the point P (fig. 7) of
the intersection of FL and F'L'.
Through 0 (fig. 7), the middle point of FL, draw/Z, making the
angle FO/ = LOZ = given angle p. Let the volumes, of which
FO/'and LOZ are sections, be represented by Yl and V2 respec¬
tively ; also, letiq and v2 represent the volumes of which EPO/ and
LPOZ are sections, and v = volume emerged or immersed ; then
V2 = i/ + v2;
and Vj —v — vl
.*. V2 —V1 = t/1 + v2
= area of plane/Z x OE (nearly) where OE
is drawn perpendicular to F'L'.
But OE = OP sin p
V —V
.*. OP = .2 \\ . - (I.)
area plane/ Z sin p
Various methods have been recommended for the calculation of
the solids V2 and Vj as well as for the volume v, all three of
which are obtained in the same way. The following plan will
guide the reader to find v:—
1st. Join FF' and LL', and the areas of the triangles FPF' j
. FP . F'P sin p LP . L'P sin p
or LPL' = ^“ 5 or  2   '
2d. The curves FCF' and LCL' may be considered as parab¬
olas, and the areas lying between FF' or LL' and the curves
j ^ 2 FF . X perpendicular height of segment FCF'
2 LL' x perpendicular height of segment LC'L'. ^ ^ may employ
3
3d instead of 2d to find the areas of the segments just mentioned.
3cZ. When p is very large, ordinates may be measured at right
angles to FF' and LL' (seven will always be sufficient), and at
equal distances apart, and the area found by Rule (III.) Art. 1.
(or by Rule I.)
4th. Having found the areas FPF' and LPL' made by each ver¬
tical section, introduce these as ordinates in Rule (I.), and proceed
as therein stated.
Remark.—Several writers have proposed to draw the ordinates,
mentioned in (3), parallel to the plane of flotation. There is, how¬
ever, little labour saved by such a plan.
For a very large number of vessels, which are full below the
load-water plane, the following method may be applied, and will,
it is believed, be found almost as accurate as those just recom¬
mended. Bisect the angle FPF' by the line CC', and with radii
PC, PC', describe^the arcs HCH' and NGN'; then the sectors will,
in general, be very nearly equal in area to the portions FPF' and
LPL'. If CP = r, and C'P = s, then the area of the sector HPH'
— r~-, and area NPN' = . Summing these areas (by Rule
1 We here suppose that the volumes emerged and immersed are solids of revolution, that is, solids described by the revolution of the
planes FPQ and LPQ round PQ. This assumption will be accurate enough when the angle p is very small, as we have assumed it to be.
156
SHIP-BUILDING.
Stability I.) from stem to stern, and writing rj, »*2, r^, &c., for the 1st, 2d, 3d,
of Floating &c., radii, with similar expressions for s, &c., we have
v r ^mu_J Volume emerged =— | + r2n + 4 (r22 + r42 &c.) + 2 (r33
+ r52+&c.)}
Volume immersed = ^ j + sn2 + 4 («22 + s42 + &c.) 4- 2 («32
+ s62 + &c.)}
Calling the lines CP, C'P, measured on each vertical section,
ordinates, we have the following approximate rule to find the
volumes of the solids emerged or immersed :—
Rule XV.—To the sum of the squares of first and last
ordinates add four times the sum of the squares of all the
even ordinates, and twice the sum of the squares of all the
odd ordinates ; multiply this result by the common distance
and by the angle through which the ship has rolled—■
divide by 6, and we obtain the volume required {nearly).
Akt. 13.—Returning to Art. 7, and referring to fig. 7,
Draw GT parallel to MG and GG' parallel to GrfR.
Then, G^R . £ . Vd = 2?^ . £ • w ;
And GG' = GoiR — GdT
= -1?1-yg '■V — GGd sin <p.
• e • v-GGrd • e • Vd sin <p;
Or, w . GG'= <>!?! .«/ — GG<*.Wsin?) . . . (I.)
w representing the weight of water emerged or immersed; For¬
mula (I.) measures the statical stability, Def. (I.) of a vessel as
given by Atwood in his paper published in the Transactions of the
Royal Society for the year 1796.
Art. 14.—The rule most frequently used by naval archi¬
tects to determine the centre of gravity of a vessel, when
fully equipped for sea, is due to Chapman, and is as fol¬
lows :—
Suppose any weight (or weights) 'W1, either on the upper deck
or elsewhere, is moved from its position at Wj (fig. 7) to another
position, as W'j, and that by this change of position the ship has
been inclined through the angle ?. From W\ (the centre of gravity
of the weight or weights) draw W'jB parallel to F'L'j, and WjE
perpendicular to W'jE; then W']E = WjW'j cos ? = c cos if
WjW'j — c.
So long as the disturbing weight remains in its new position
W'-p the vessel will remain in equilibrium, and therefore its centre
of gravity must lie in the line G'dM by the second condition of equi¬
librium. Hence it has been transferred a distance GG' parallel
to the plane of flotation F'L', while Wj has been moved through a
distance W'^E in a parallel direction. Taking moments, we have
W . GG' = Wx, c cos ?.
From Equation I. of last article—
_ y-j gqw-GGd. W4 sin ?
~ W
Writing this latter value of GG' in the former equation, we get
_plglw1-cW1 cos?
“ W sin
which determines the centre of gravity of the ship, when the centre
of gravity of displacement has been determined.
Mr Abethell, master-shipwright of H.M. Dockyard, Ports¬
mouth, proposed the following method, in the second volume
of the Papers on Naval Architecture:—
“ It is applicable whenever a ship is taken into dock with the
under side of her keel deviating from parallelism with the upper
surface of the blocks. This is almost always the case; and it also
not unfrequently occurs that ships are docked ‘ all standing,’ and
with so large a portion of their armament and stores on board, that
the correction necessary to be made to the result which would be
obtained by the experiment and investigation about to be described,
in order to make that result agree with the circumstances of any
additional armament and equipment, would be comparatively easy.
We will now quote from the article in question.
“ ‘ We will suppose, by the falling of the tide in the dock, the Stability
after-extremity of the keel to come first in contact with the blocks ;0f pioatinr?
then, as the tide continues to fall, the after-body is gradually for- Bodies °
saken by the water, and the fore-body further immersed, a constant N ‘ j
equilibrium being maintained between the total weight of the ship
and the pressure of the water against the immersed part of the
body, until the ship is aground fore and aft. At any intermediate
instant the ship may be considered as a lever of the second kind, of
which the fulcrum is the transverse line or point of contact of the
keel and after-block, and the power and weight, the weight of the
immersed volume and that of the ship respectively, each acting in
the vertical line passing through its centre of gravity. As we can,
by mensuration and calculation from the draught of the ship, easily
find its weight, that of the immersed volume, and the perpendicular
distance of the line of pressure from the fulcrum : in the equation
of the moments, the distance of the vertical line passing through
the centre of gravity of the ship is the only unknown quantity,
which is therefore readily determined. AH (fig. 9) represents the
Fig. 9.
water-line corresponding to the floating position of the ship, and
KL the observed water-line just previously to the fore-part of the
keel touching the blocks. The line PBO, perpendicular to AH,
passes through the centre of gravity of the displaced volume AFMH,
and consequently through that of the ship. Draw QH through
the centre of gravity of the volume KFML, perpendicular to KL, and
FG through the fulcrum F, parallel to QH. Then, putting the
total displacement AFMH = V, KFML — v, and GH = & ; if the
line SEO, parallel to QH, be drawn at the distance GE from G
equal toit will, as well as PBO, pass through the centre of
gravity of the ship, which will be in 0, the point of their inter¬
section.
“ ‘ To obtain from these considerations a general expression for
the perpendicular distance of the point 0 from the water-line AH,
draw AD perpendicular to EG, and meeting it, when produced, in
D; and having calculated the values of AB and GE, put AB = a,
DE or DG-j-GE = cf, and the angle of inclination between the
water-lines AH and KL = A; then BO
(^cos <^a^tanA’
which must be set off upon the perpendicular PBO, above or below
AH, according as —is greater or less than a.’ ”
Dynamical Stability.
Art. 15.—Making the same construction's in fig. 7, and
drawing GX and G^Y perpendicular tof l, meeting F'L'
in x and y respectively. Through G'd draw G'^Z parallel
to F'L', intersecting YG<* produced in Z.
Here it may easily be shown, that while W, the weight of the
water displaced, has been moved through the distance G'^R, the
weight of that portion of the water emerged has been moved through
a distance g6 pifgi q\ in the same direction.1 Taking moments,—
G'dR • W = W {ge Pi -\-gi qf = wz; if z = ge <h
But GO — Gx = GO — (GX—Xx) = GO — GO cos ? + X*
= GO vers ? -j- X* ...... I.
which is the vertical distance through which the centre of gravity
of the body has been raised.
Also, G'dY - GcjO = G<*Y + GdZ - Gd0
= G'dR + GdY — Xx— Gd0
= G'dR + GdO cos ? — GdO — Xx
= G'dR — (GdO vers ? 4* . IL
1 See Moseley’s paper, p. 619.
SHIP-BUILDING.
157
Stability which represents the height through which the centre of gravity of
f Wlnatinff displacement has been raised.
Bodies. Then there wil1 be tw0 cases: When th? ce”tres. move in the
same direction; 2d, When they move in opposite directions. In the
^ first case, we shall have to subtract (I.) and (II.); iu the second case,
add these results. Performing these operations, we have for the
sum, or difference of the vertical displacements of tne centre of
gravity of the body, and that of the fluid which it displaces,
G'd R — (Gld 0 vers + Xa) + (GO vers <p + Xa;) ;
Or, G'd R — GGd vers <p  IH-
by taking the upper sign.
The dynamical stability is readily obtained by multiplying this
result by the weight of the vessel; that is—
Dynamical stability = W (G^R -f- GGdvers $) . . . IV.1
Canon Moseley makes the following remarks at page 634
of his paper:—
“ The force of the winds and waves, to the action of which a
vessel is liable, may be supposed to vary as the surface she opposes
to them; that is, to the area of her sails and the superficial dimen¬
sions of the hull. In vessels geometrically similar, these vary as
the squares of any of their linear dimensions; their lengths, for in¬
stance. On the other hand, the weights of such vessels, supposed
to be similarly loaded, varying as the cubes of their lengths; and
the depths of their centres of gravity, and of the centres of gravity
of their immersed parts varying as their lengths, their dynamical
stabilities, with reference to a given inclination, vary as the fourth
powers of their lengths. Since then, in reference to vessels thus
geometrically similar, the disturbing forces, to the action of which
they are subject, vary as the squares of their lengths, and their
stabilities as the fourth powers, it follows that their actual steadi¬
ness in the water will vary as the square of their lengths, the
greater vessel being more steady than the less in this proportion.”
Time of Performing an Oscillation.
Akt. 16.—There is much difficulty attending the investi¬
gation of the times of rolling and pitching of vessels through
large angles, inasmuch as the axis about which the motion
takes place is instantaneous. This axis can, however, be de¬
termined at any instant, providing the direction in which the
ship is rolling or pitching be given? All methods hitherto
given are incomplete, yet all tend to show, that no matter
what may be the amplitudes (the angles through which
the vessel revolves, providing the position of the ballast,
cargo, and other weights retain their original positions), the
time of performing a complete oscillation, in smooth waters,
is the same.
Writers on Hydrostatics, in investigating the time of an
oscillation, have usually considered the plane of flotation
as constant throughout the motion. The Rev. Canon
Moseley, in his paper already quoted, endeavoured to obtain
new results for the time of performing an oscillation, as well
as for the dynamical stability of the vessel. Notwithstand¬
ing that several corrections have been made in the paper,
as published in his second edition of The Mechanical Prin¬
ciples of Engineering and Architecture, the results are
still open to the same objection, since they are made to
depend upon the moment of inertia of the plane of flotation,
which is itself a variable quantity throughout the motion.
It would seem that the Calculus of Variations might be ad¬
vantageously applied to the question, or, at all events, Canon
Moseley’s paper might be made available, providing we
were to calculate the amount of probable error in assuming
the plane of flotation constant within given limits.
As the question stands, we do not know that a better Stability
and more simple method can be brought °f Floating
before the practical man than the follow- • Bodies,
ing, which is due to the Rev. Dr Wool-
ley :—
“ Suppose Gd G'd to be an arc described by
the centre of gravity of displacement, corre¬
sponding to the half-angle through which the
vessel rolls, and let M, M', be the limits within
which the normals to the curve cut, GrfM, the
former corresponding to the upright position
of the vessel, G- the centre of gravity of the „ f
vessel, then the time of rolling, supposing M
to be fixed during the motion, is too great; and
if M' were the point of suspension, the time
would be too small; but taking intermediate ^
points, and calculating the time for each, sup¬
posed fixed, let T be the true time, a1} «c2, «3, &c., the errors, tv t2,
%, &c., the calculated times, then—
T + “i = *1
T -j- «2 == *2
T + «3 = f3
T «,x = tn
rj _ fi h -)-t3+&c- ~f~ g2 ~f~ ga &c-+ • 3
‘ ’ -1 n n
Now, since some of these errors are negative and some positive,
we may make this result as small as we please, by taking n suffi¬
ciently great.
.. T = tn-, very nearly.
n
When the distance between M and M' is very small, as is the
case in most vessels for a moderate amplitude, then the question is
reduced to the case of a simple pendulum, the length of which is
GdM. Therefore K being the radius of gyration of the ship round
a longitudinal axis through its centre of gravity,
t = -^L=4  (i.)
V <7.G<zM
K is obtained by multiplying each of the elementary weights of
the vessel by the square of its distance from the horizontal axis
through the centre of gravity, and extending the summation
throughout the whole ship. Divide this result by the total weight
of the ship when ready for sea, and extract the square root of the
quotient, which gives K.5 • .
We see from (I.), that the time of a natural oscillation varies
directly as the radius of gyration, and inversely as the square root
of the distance between the centre of gravity of the vessel and its
metacentre. Hence, by increasing K, which may be done by
moving the weights on board further from the axis about which
the ship revolves, the time of oscillation is increased; also K re¬
maining constant, if GM be diminished, T is also increased, and
vice versd. .
Canon Moseley gives the following approximate result for the
time of performing an oscillation :—
^ For = MGd.
W i H
T =
Art. 11, formula (I.), where k represents the moment of inertia of
the plane of flotation about one of its principal axes.
The Forces which act upon a Ship in motion, as they in¬
fluence her general dimensions, form, and qualities.
The methods by which the displacement of a ship are
found, and those by which the positions of her centres of
gravity are determined, having been described, and the
principles on which her stability depends having been
1 The reader who is desirous of learning more on this subject may consult the paper just cited, or Fincham s Outlines of Ship-Building,
3d edit. 2 See Moseley’s paper.
3 It would be a very easy matter to compare the time of a vessel’s rolling through any angle with a pendulum whose length varies
between the limits GdM and GdM'. For we have only to conceive a fine string suspended from A, and carrying a bob at Gd, and passing
through an exceedingly fine aperture in a rod GdM', the latter rod making a vertical motions MM' in the same time that Gd completes
the arc GdG'd,—that is, much on the same plan as the motion of the slide-valve of a steam-engine. Indeed, it would not be difficult to
make the point M' describe the exact curve traced out by this point during the motion of the ship, providing that curve be calculated,
we should then be in a position to learn accurately what error is made by assuming M to be the point of suspension.
4 See Earnshaw’s Dynamics, p. 229 ; Poisson’s Mechanics, vol. ii., chap, iii., art. 2 (Dr Harte s translation) ; or, Pratt s Mec amca
Philosophy, chap, vii, 5 From a paper by the Rev. Dr Woolley.
158
SHIP-BUILDING.
Forces pointed out, it is now proposed to consider the forces which
a*Shitinf a a^'ect ^ler speed through the water,
motion* ^ was at a vp'T early period pointed out by mathema-
v ^ > ticians, that the velocity with which water will run out
Law f through a hole in the bottom of a vessel is the same as that
resistances ac(lu*red by a body falling from a height equal to the depth
from the surface of the water to the hole. The truth of
this has been at various times tested by many experiments,
and has been confirmed by all that have been made. Euler,
in his work, Theorie Complette de la Construction des
Vaisseaux, took this as the basis of his investigations of
the theory of the resistances which solid bodies moving in
a fluid have to overcome. A passage in the English trans¬
lation of his work is given thus :—
“ We know, both from theory and experience, that the water
contained in a vessel, whose height is = A, will run out through a
hole in the bottom with the same velocity that a body falling from
the same height, A, would acquire. And if the letter g denotes the
height through which a body falls in one second, we also know
the velocity will be such that it would run through a distance
= gr A in the same time. Since, therefore, this velocity is sup¬
posed = c, or 2^g~k = c, and, by taking the square, 4:gh = c2;
c2
whence we have the height sought, A = —; consequently, the
/.2 will
will be
force of the resistance which a supposed plane surface
experience by moving in water, with the velocity
c2f2
— —— ; and by this force the surface will be acted on, in a direc-
4(/
tion contrary to its motion. Hence, we see that this resistance is
always proportional to the square of the velocity, and also propor¬
tional to the area of the surface itself, so that by this means the
resistance is perfectly determined.”
If the direct resistance to the motion of a vessel through
the water were not lessened by her form, it would, by this
rule, be ascertained by finding the weights of a column of
water, whose base is equal to her midship section, and
whose height is equal to that from which a body must fall
to acquire the velocity at which she is propelled, and the
resistances of similar vessels when moved with the same
velocity, would be proportional to their midship sections.
The direct resistance, however, to any plane surface will
be diminished by placing a triangular, or other form of
body, before and behind it; and many experiments have
been made on the form to be added, with a view to dis¬
cover the law of the diminution of this resistance, and thus
to be able to approximate to the form of least resistance.
All attempts to reconcile the theory of the resistances on
the oblique surfaces thus presented to the fluid with the
observations by experiment, have as yet failed. Bossut1
gives the theoretical resolution of the resistance on the
sides of a wedge-shaped body as follows, and then shows
that this is found by experiment not to be true with respect
to bodies with sharp ends moving in water:—
Let ADB (fig.12 ) be an isosceles triangle, moving in a fluid of
infinite extent in the direction
of its height QD. The face AD
is subject, according to theory,
to a resistance in the direction
FE perpendicular to itself, such
that in calling <*• the perpen¬
dicular and direct resistance
experienced by the half-base AQ,.
When moved with the same velo¬
city as the triangle, we have force
ADx(sinADQ)2
AQ x (AD)2
= 5rxAI)xAQ2
AQ x AD2
AQ
— ^ * jy) 5 and in a simi¬
lar manner we have, for the other
force BD, force /e = -r x
BQ
BD
= sr X
—^. Resolving each of the two equal forces FE and fe
into the two others, FH FK, and/A f k, the one perpendicular, and
the other parallel to the base AD of the triangle, it is evident that
the two forces equal, and directly opposed to each other, FK and
/A, destroy each other, and that the triangle is simply acted on in
the direction QD by one force = FH + /A = 2 FH = 2 FE x
AD
Forces
affecting j
Ship in
motion.
AQ2
AD2'
oblique
surfaces.
Hence, if we call this force 2 FH = p, and call the
perpendicular and direct force which acts upon the base AB,
when moved with the same velocity as the triangle = P, we have
AQ2
p = P X . Comparing this formula with his experiments,
Bossut found the following results in four instances of experiments
with different models :—•
Distinjjuishing
No. of Model
Experimented
upon.
9
10
11
12
Angle of
Incidence.
45°
33° 41'
26° 34'
21° 49'
Value of p in Marcs
by Experiment.
12‘96 nearly
10-80 „
8-39 „
8-32 „
by Theory.
12
7-38 nearly
4-80
3-31 nearly
From the above it is seen that the results of theory differ
further and further from those of experiment, the smaller
the angle of incidence or the finer the angle of entrance of
a ship is made. Further experiments have been made with
a view to discover the law of this branch of the theory of
resistances, but as yet without any results such as will en¬
able any calculation to be made to determine beforehand,
with any accuracy, the extent to which the resistance of a
body of any given form will be diminished from that due
to the base or midship section of the body. Even if a law
were discovered for different angles of incidence, the diffi¬
culty of the investigation would still be great, when it is
considered how constantly this angle varies in the form of
the fore-body of a ship.
Theory, therefore, fails to give any rule by which to Resistances
ascertain, by any abstract calculation, the resistance of avaryasthe
vessel of any given form, and consequently to ascertain the ^^eT °-f
velocity that she will obtain by the exertion of any given £jees v®n^C1'
amount of power to propel her; and the naval architect is are proper-
thus driven to ascertain these points by comparison with tion alto the
the results obtained from vessels of known form and power, surfaces.
It has already been shown in the extract from Euler,
that the resistances experienced by the same body, when
moved at different velocities, vary as the squares of the
velocities, and that the resistances of similar vessels, moved
at the same velocity, are proportional to their surfaces or
the areas of their midship sections. Many experiments
have been made to test the accordance or otherwise of
these theoretical deductions with the actual results ob¬
tained in practice. M. Bossut reported, as the result of
the experiments conducted for the Royal Academy of
Sciences at Paris in the year 1776, that the resistances of
the same surface, moved with different velocities through a
fluid infinite in extent, follow nearly the proportion of the
squares of the velocities, and also that the perpendicular
and direct resistances of several plane surfaces, moved with
the same velocity, are very nearly proportional to the areas
of the surfaces; and, consequently, that experiment and
theory may be said to agree on these points. The experi¬
ments made in 1796 and 1798 in this country by the So¬
ciety for the Improvement of Naval Architecture, and con¬
ducted by Colonel Beaufoy, lead to the same conclusion.
These experiments were made with bodies of various forms,
and at velocities varying from 1 to 8 nautical miles per
hour. The relative proportion or degree in which the re¬
sistances and velocities varied in the bodies of different
1 NouvelUs Experiences sur la Resistance des Fluides, Paris, 1777.
SHIP-BUILDING.
159
Forces forms differed comparatively slightly, being in some cases
acting on akove the square or second power, and in other cases below
i Ship in jt. ;n one jnstance ^ reached as high as the power of
motion^ 2'2061, and in another instance as low as 1*7914, but the
" average of the results obtained from these experiments
may safely be taken as corroborative of the theory.
Exception has been taken by some to the results of these
experiments, because the bodies were entirely submerged,
but the reasons for so conducting them appear to be stronger
than those for conducting a series of experiments on bodies
only partially submerged, and then subject to other in¬
fluences than the action of the water through which they
are passing. Deductions based upon the grounds thus
established, as furnishing correct data on the subject of
resistances, are of great practical value to the naval archi¬
tect.
repulsion
' vessels
y steam
ower.
The resistances, whatever they may be, of the same body, having
been shown to be as the squares of the velocities, it follows neces¬
sarily that the horse-powers exerted to produce the ditferent velo¬
cities will vary as the cubes of the velocities. This is evident, be¬
cause the power is the product of the distance passed over, multi¬
plied into the force exerted, while the distances vary directly
as the velocities and the forces vary in the proportion of the
squares. The origin and the truth of the formula in common use
— * ' equal to a co-efficient C is therefore apparent; the
l.ri.r.
resistances being in proportion to the areas of the midship sections^
and I.H.P. being put to represent the indicated horse-power.
It is sometimes preferred to use a ratio of the displacement in^
stead of the midship section, and as the ratio of the midship section
of similar bodies is also expressed by the ratio of the cube root of
the square of their cubical contents, this may be substituted in
lieu of the midship section in the foregoing formula. It will then
V3 Di
become , C, and hence V, or any one unknown element
I. H. P J
in the formula may be found, all the others being known. A
ready means of comparison between different ships is thus ob¬
tained. If the vessels are different in size, but mathematically
similar, that is, if one is a type of the other, and the whole par¬
ticulars of one are known, the velocity of the other, for any sup¬
posed amount of power, or the necessary amount of power to pro¬
duce any proposed velocity, will be obtained.
The practical application of these principles to the pro¬
pulsion of vessels by steam-power, which is always applied
in the direction of the keel, would be easily carried out if
the amount of power which is actually effective in propelling
the vessel could be accurately ascertained separately from
the power expended in working the parts of the engine
itself, and in the friction. The total horse-power generated
or exerted by the steam, is measured by the indicator, and
is called the indicated horse-power; but engineers have as
yet failed to discover any satisfactory method by which the
effective can be separated from the gross horse-power. It
is usual, therefore, to assume that, for every indicated
horse-power, a given amount of effective power is exerted,
and the gross power is argued upon as a measure of the
effective power. In many cases this assumption is no
doubt correct, but in many others it is open to great ques¬
tion, and results thus obtained must not be argued upon as
by any means definite, or anything more than an approxi¬
mation sufficiently accurate for most practical purposes.
The form of the engines and boilers to be used in the
propulsion of a vessel is generally left by the naval archi¬
tect to be determined by the engineers; but at the same
time, the amount of power to be placed in the vessel, the
weight and the positions of the centres of gravity, both
vertically and longitudinally, of the machinery, must be
duly considered and determined in concert with the naval
architect. The form of the vessel at the place where the
paddle-wheels, or where the screw are to act, also require
special consideration on the part of the naval architect,
otherwise the power exerted by the engine may be wasted,
as it formerly was in churning the wrater when the paddle-
wheels were boxed up in sponsons.
The arrangements for the propulsion of vessels by the Forces
agency of the wind come within the province of the naval acting on
architect, and much consideration has been given to the a Shjp in
subject in many works. motion.
When the ship is under sail, there are two forces act-
ing on it—the one, the force of the wind on the sails, to Resultants
propel the ship; and the other, the resistance of the waterof/orces
to oppose her motion. Ihese forces, immediately the shipshjp ander
has acquired the velocity due to the strength of the wind, saii,
are equal, and, as is the case with all forces, may each be
reasoned on as if acting only on one point of the surface
over which its effect is diffused. This point is that in which, and centres
if the whole force were to be concentrated, its effect would effort*
be the same as when dispersed over the whole area: it is
usual to call these, “ resultants of forces,” and the points on
which they are supposed to act, “ centres of effort.”
From what has been before said, the resultant of the Action of
force of the wind on the sails, and the resultant of the force win<lontlie
of the water on the hull, are equal; the one acting on thesails’ an(*
weather-side of the ship, in the direction into which the^fc^rupn
force of the wind resolves itself, and the other opposed to
it, acting on the lee-side, in the direction into which the
force of the water resolves itself; and their effect is neces¬
sarily in proportion to their distance from the centre of
gravity. If they are equally distant, they will destroy each
other, and the ship will remain at rest with respect to the
line of its course; if the resultant of the resistance of the
water passes before the resultant of the wind, the ship will
turn to the wind; but if the resultant of the wind passes
before that of the water, the effect will be the contrary, and
the ship will fall off from the wind. In either case it will
be necessary to equalize the forces, by the action of the
water on the rudder, on its lee-side, to bring the resultant
of the water more aft, and on its weather-side to destroy a
part of the effect of the wind. This is the principle of the
action of the wind on the sails, and of that of the water on
the hull, with respect to the course of the ship through the
water; and it is on these considerations only that the va¬
rious alterations can be regulated, which it may from time
to time be necessary to make in the trim either of the sails
or of the ship; and hence the accurate determination of
the positions and directions of these two forces is a point of
great importance in naval architecture. The position of the
centre of effort of the wind on the sails may be found under
certain reservations; and that being known, enough is de¬
termined to lead to correct conclusions on the other efreum-
stances attendant on the subject.
In order to find the distance of the centre of effort of Centre of
the wind on the sails before the centre of gravity of the efFo^t,
ship, the moment of each sail is calculated by nmltiplying^1"^6^1,0
its area by the horizontal distance of its centre of gravity gravity of
from that of the ship; the sum of the negative moments, ship,
or those abaft the centre of gravity of the ship, is then sub¬
tracted from the sum of the positive moments, or those
before the centre of gravity of the ship; the remainder is
then divided by the total area of the sails, and the result
gives the required distance of the centre of effort of the
wind on the sails before the centre of gravity of the ship.
The situation of this point with respect to the length of the determines
vessel must determine in a considerable degree the posi- positions of
tions of the masts; for experience has proved that it ismasts*
among the most essentially requisite good qualities of a
ship, that she shall carry a weather-helm.
With respect to ships carrying a weather-helm, it may Effect and
be assumed that the particles of water have a motion at the position of
stern of the vessel, the direction of which forms an acute the rudder
angle with the middle line of the ship produced aft, which during
angle will evidently be dependent on the fulness or ^"^n110113
fineness of the after-part of the body, and on the angle
which the line of the ship’s course, or that of the lee-way,
makes with the middle line of the ship; consequently, the
160
Forces
acting on a
Ship in
motion.
Experience
confirms
theseviews.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Weather-
helm.
Ships with
lee-helm
leewardly.
Effect mis¬
taken for
cause.
Disadvan¬
tage of lee-
helm.
inactive position of the rudder will be when it forms this
angle with the middle line of the ship, that is, when the
rudder is to leeward, and consequently, the helm a-weather.
And this position should be the theoretic limit of the degree
of weather-helm a ship should carry, as in any other posi¬
tion there must be a force acting on the rudder, which
must increase the resistance the ship experiences in her
passage through the water. A practical confirmation of
the correctness of this principle, and of the fact that this
o-enerally advantageous position of the rudder is a-lee of
the middle line of the ship, may be drawn from the com¬
mon observation, that when a ship is in good trim, the helm,
beino- a-weather, has a very perceptible tremulous motion,
which must arise from the rudder being in a position in
which it is not acted upon on either side by any constant
force. This method of considering the direction of the
flow of the water to the rudder considerably diminishes the
estimate of the excess of its effect on the lee-side of the
rudder over that on the weather. But there are several
other considerations which operate in increasing the effect
of the weather-helm. From the direction in which the
water flows past the ship, there will be a much greater re¬
duction of pressure on the weather-side of the rudder when
the helm is to windward, and therefore a greater positive
pressure on its lee-side to turn the ship, than will occur
under the opposite circumstances, or when the helm is
a-lee. Also, the broken and disturbed state of the water
on the after-part of the weather-side of the ship, and the
consequent various degrees of resistance it opposes, must
lessen its effect when the helm is a-lee.
It has been said to be proved by practice, that ships
which carry lee-helms cannot be weatherly ; that is, will fall
faster to leeward than those which carry weather-helms.
But though the fact is correct, the reason assigned is in
some degree mistaking the effect for the cause. It has be¬
fore been said, that a part of the force of the wind acts in
driving a ship bodily to leeward ; of course its effect will be
greater or less in proportion to the lateral resistance opposed
to it, and the ship which opposes less lateral and greater
longitudinal resistance to the water than another, will in
the same period of time have fallen farthest to leeward, and
the line of her course will have made a larger angle with
her middle line, by which the effect of the water on the
after-part of the lee-side is increased, while that on the fore¬
part, both of the lee and weather sides, is diminished, and
the helm must consequently be kept less a-weather. A
practical proof of the correctness of this reasoning may be
drawn from the practice of the older class of merchant-
vessels, which are generally, from form, more leewauily
than men-of-war. They have their fore-mast placed much
nearer the centre of the ship than is usual in sharper and
finer formed bodies. This has evidently arisen from the
operation of the cause above mentioned, which has shown
that they require the resultant of the effort of the wind on
the sails to be proportionately farther aft to insure their
carrying a weather-helm. From this reasoning it is evi¬
dent that, under some circumstances, it may be the lee-
wrardliness of the ship which causes her to carry a lee-helm;
and that when such is the case, the defect might be reme¬
died, not only by the usual methods of placing the masts
farther aft, and altering the draught of water, but by in¬
creasing the lateral resistance by the addition of false keel,
or by greater depth in the water. 5
There is another disadvantage arising from a ship s car¬
rying a lee-helm, which is, that the action of the water on
the weather-side of the rudder acts in conjunction with the
force of the wind in forcing the ship bodily to leeward;
while, on the contrary, when the helm is a-weather, the
action of the water on the rudder is in opposition to the
force of the wind. The ardency of a ship, which is her
tendency to fly to the wind, depends on the relative posi¬
tions of the resultant of the effort of the wind on the sails, Forces
and the resultant of the resistance of the water on the hull, acting on a
The position of the centre of effort of the wind on the ®hiP iQ
sails is calculated under the supposition that the sails aie ^ ^ ^
plane surfaces, and equally disposed with regard to the Ion-
gitudinal axis of the ship; but when a ship is on a wind, Sails as-
as the force of the wind acts in a direction oblique to the Xn™e
surface of the sails, a greater proportion of the sail is earned faces_
to leeward of this axis, and the whole sail assumes a curved
surface, the curvature of which increases from the weather
to the lee side. From these circumstances, the centre of
effort is in fact carried gradually farther aft as the action of
the wind takes place on the sails. Also, as the force of the Effect of
wind inclines the ship, the centre of effort of the wind on their cur-
the sails is carried, by this inclination, over to the lee-side, vature.
by which, as also by the effect produced on the resultant
of the water, which has been before mentioned, the distance
between them is farther increased. It therefore appears Of increase
that, the quantity and disposition of the sail set remaining of wind,
the same, the ardency will increase as the force of the wind
increases, and diminish as that force diminishes. The
defect of a vessel carrying a lee-helm may be lessened by
those means of trimming either the sails or the ship, which
will tend to increase the distance of the resultant of the
water before the centre of effort of the wind. Great cau¬
tion is necessary before altering the position of the masts
with a view to remedy this defect, because her working
quickly depends on the proportion of sail before and abaft
the axis of rotation, and noton the position of the centre of
effort of the whole surface of the sails. The limits of this
article will not permit the subjects of masting, or rigging,
or sail-making to be gone into. Much valuable infor¬
mation on the subject of the effect of the wind upon the
sails, the angle of lee-way, the position of the centre of
effort, and other points, will be found in the article Sea¬
manship.
The motion of pitching and scending is generally the Pitching
most violent action to which a ship is subjected, and the and scend
most injurious, both to the connection between the parts “S-
of her structure and the velocity of her sailing. It is the
longitudinal motion caused by the variable support afforded
to the body by the waves as the vessel meets and passes
over them; pitching being dipping of the bows into the
water, and scending, the dipping of the stern. To obtain
ease of motion in this respect, Mr Henwood advocated, in
a paper published in the Papers on Naval Architecture,
that the after-part of the ship, or that part abaft the centre
of gravity, should be constructed so as to have precisely
the same cubic contents as the fore-body, and that its
centre of gravity should be at the same distance from the
centre of gravity of the ship as that of the fore-body. The
disposition of the weights, and especially of the masts, in¬
fluences this motion in a powerful degree; because, though
the weights in the fore and after bodies may balance each
other while at rest, a greater weight, perhaps at a less dis¬
tance, balancing a less weight at a greater distance; yet,
when the ship is set in motion the balance will no longer
hold, because the moments of the weights in motion will
be according to the squares of their distances from the com¬
mon centre of gravity. If a vessel pitches heavily, the
moments of the weights forward are too great, and the con¬
trary if she scends heavily abaft. An uneasy motion in
pitching is much more common than in scending, and this
no doubt arises from the generally very forward position of
the fore-mast, especially in men-of-war. The importance
of a little attention to this subject on the part of naval men
will be at once apparent, when it is considered that the
effect of moving or placing 5 tons at a distance of 120 feet
from the centre of gravity of the ship is represented by the
number 72,000= 1202 x 5, while it would be necessary to
move 720 tons to a distance of 10 feet on the opposite side
Forces
icting on s
Ship in
motion.
 r-J
iolling.
lotion as
nfluenced
>y general
limensions
>r form.
jength.
SHIP-B UILDING.
161
of the centre of gravity to produce the same effect on the
1 pitching and scending motions of a ship.
The rolling motion of a ship is caused more by the
undulations of the waves than by the shock of a wave
striking the side of a ship. The principles on which the
rolling of a vessel depends have been already investigated,
and a few practical remarks will only be added here. The
remark is common, and it is true, that the crank ship is the
easy ship—that is, the more readily a vessel rolls, the easier
will be the rolling motion. Mr Wilson, late of the Admi¬
ralty Office, in an able article in the Papers on Naval
Architecture, says, “ If stability is too great, the most
efficacious way of diminishing the rolling is to bring up
the ballast, because it raises the centre of gravity, and it
increases the distance of the centre of oscillation from the
axis of rotation. The ballast removed from near the keelson
to the wings, even if placed as high as the deck, is as
far from the metacentre as when it was in the hold, and
consequently its weight multiplied into the square of that
distance is the same as before; the rollings, therefore, will
be slower.” The cables, shot, stores, &c., in any ship, if
placed near the side, while this will not affect the stability,
will increase the distance between them and the axis of
rotation, and will consequently lengthen the time of vibra¬
tion. Mr Wilson proceeds to say, that it is by no means
a difficult task to reduce a ship of extraordinary stability,
which is always an uneasy one, to a state of easy rolling by
increasing the masts and yards, and increasing the weights
above and putting them in the wings, and removing some
ballast, if she has any on board.
Fincham, in his History of Ship-Building, gives a re¬
markable instance of the extent to which the qualities of a
ship may be influenced by other circumstances than her
form. “ The Mutine, an experimental brig, built to com¬
pete with others, was beaten on the first experimental
cruise, but she afterwards beat the others, alterations hav¬
ing been made in the trim of her sails and in her stowage.
After the alterations, instead of rolling the shot out of the
racks and the wind out of the sails, as before, she rolled
little, and neither deep nor quick. At first her weights
were carried too low down.”
The motions of a vessel are much affected by the pro¬
portions which the general dimensions bear to each other.
An increase of length gives an increase of displacement, or
if this is not desired, it allows of finer lines forward and aft,
and it also increases the stability and the resistance to
lee-way. The power of turning, tacking, wearing, or mak¬
ing any other change in her course, is lessened by an in¬
crease of length; but this effect may be much modified by
diminishing the amount of fore-foot, or of dead-wood for¬
ward, which will alter the position of the resultant of the
action of the water, and will consequently also require a
corresponding alteration in the amount or position of the
forward and aft sails. A vessel need not necessarily pitch
more heavily on account of any increase of length, but it
is necessary in long vessels to take greater care that the
weights of the fore and aft bodies are properly balanced in
regard to their moments. It will be evident that the
moments of small weights when placed well forward or
aft, become very much greater in long vessels, when it is
considered that all weights are multiplied by the squares
of their distances from the centre of gravity of the ship for
their moments.
The friction upon the sides of a vessel, from any addi¬
tional length of parallel body amidships, appears to be very
trifling, if we may judge from the results of cases where
vessels have been cut in midships and lengthened, without
any other alteration in their form having been made. The
following is a statement of the results obtained by lengthen¬
ing the Candia, a vessel belonging to the Peninsular and
Oriental Company, by putting 35 feet into her amidships
VOL. xx.
Trial
before being
lengthened,
May 31,1855.
First trial
after being
lengthened
Aug. 8, 1857,
Second trial
after being
lengthened,
Aug. 12,1857.
Draft forward 
„ aft 
„ mean 
Area midship section...
Displacement 
Nominal horse-power..
Indicated horse-power.
Revolutions  
Pressure 
Vacuum  
Speed  
Pitch of screw 
Diameter of ditto....
Blades 
18 ft. 6 in.
18 ft. 6 in.
18 ft. 6 in.
536 feet
2,435 tons
450
1,415
34 £ to 37
22 lb.
26£
12,651
20 feet
15 ft. 6 in.
3
18 ft. 2 in.
19 ft. 5 in.
18 ft. 9£ in.
551 feet
3,036 tons
450
I, 250
31
16 lb.
26
II, 675
21 feet
15 ft. 6 in.
18 ft. 2£ in.
19 ft. 7 in.
18 ft. 11 in.
556 feet
3,069 tons
450
about 1,400
33
20 lbs.
26£
12,443
21 feet
15 ft. 6 in.
3
Forces
acting on a
Ship in
motion.
By increasing the breadth amidships, as well as the Breadth,
average breadth throughout the whole length of the vessel,
while the length and depth are kept the same as before,
the stability, which varies as the cube of the breadth, is
increased. As the angular momenta of the weights,
estimated from the axis of rotation, vary as the squares
of their distances from that axis, and the momentum of
the action of a wave is increased in the same proportion, Effect
therefore the increase of stability is accompanied by in- thereof on
creased violence in the motions, and consequent increased the sta-
strain on the combinations and materials of the structure, bi!ity of a
and especially danger to the masts, by which the safety ofship'
the vessel may be compromised. The stability of a ship
of war, being the quality on which the efficiency of her
armament is essentially dependent, and which also, by
enabling her to carry a press of sail in circumstances of
danger, as a lee-shore, or an enemy of superior force, is
essential to her safety; the only limit to its increase is in¬
volved in the consideration of easiness of motion. But if
this consideration be neglected, and the breadth be such
that the moment of stability in proportion to the moment
of sail is so large, or of such sudden increase, that the masts
are endangered or the combinations of the structure pre¬
maturely destroyed, the object for which a large moment
of stability was desirable is frustrated. The breadth, there¬
fore, is limited by easiness of motion. The best mode of
insuring stability is to give a large area and great fulness
and similarity of form immediately above and below the
average water-line, as by this means the centre of gravity
of the displacement will be kept at as short a distance as
possible below the surface of the water.
The depth of a ship, or her draught of water, may Depth,
vary according to local circumstances or the objects for
which she is to be employed, or by a judicious arrange¬
ment of her other proportions and of her form, and the posi¬
tions of the centre of gravity. Good ships may be produced
varying considerably in the proportions of their depth to
their breadth.
An important consideration connected with the forming Alteration
the design of a ship is involved in the gradual alteration of of seat in
the vessel’s seat in the water from the consumption ofwaterfrom
stores. It is not only essential that a ship should be pos- of *>"
sessed of stability combined with easiness of motion, be stores
weatherly and quick in manoeuvring when she is stored
and completed for foreign service as a ship of war, or fully
laden as a merchant-ship, but it is equally essential that
she should be possessed of these qualities towards the
expiration of her cruise, or on her return light from her
voyage.
The loss of stability which results from the diminution of
draught of water cannot be compensated by a proportion¬
ate arrangement of sail, without incurring other evil conse¬
quences. If the quantity of sail, which at all times is com¬
paratively small in a merchant-ship, be lessened, the wind
x
162
Forces
acting on a
Ship in
motion.
causing
diminution
of stability,
and in¬
creased un-
Difference
of draught
of water.
Its advan¬
tages.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Designing
of vessels.
on the increased hull might so counterbalance its effect
that she would be utterly unable to beat off a lee-shore, or
make any way on a wind.
A ship is not only subject to a loss in stability when
lightened, but becomes laboursome, on account of top-
hamper: her rolling motion is more violent as her dimi¬
nished depth in the water decreases the resistance which is
opposed to the inclination, and she also generally becomes
more leewardly, owing to the difference made in the result¬
ant of the resistance, the diminution of the lateral resistance,
and of her power of carrying sail.
It is almost a universal custom in all vessels to give a
treater draught of water abaft than forward. Occasional
attempts have been made to discontinue this practice, as
involving a supposed unnecessary increase in the water re¬
quired for floating a ship; but the increased draught of
water for the after-body has been reverted to as essentially
requisite in practice.
There are several minor advantages which result from
this arrangement; such as the more easy and unchecked
flow'-of the water to the rudder, and its consequent increased
effect in governing the motions of the ship; also the dimi¬
nution of the negative resistance which the vessel wmuld
otherwise experience from the greater difficulty with which
the flow of water would fill the vacuity caused by the pas¬
sage of the vessel, if the fulness of the after-body were such
as would be required to preserve an even draught of water;
and again, the adjustment of the resultant of the resistance
of the water to that position of the masts which experience
has determined to be requisite for the facility of manoeuvring
the sails. But the principal reason for the inequality in the
draught of water appears to be the advantage which results
from it to the more easy regulation of the motions of the
vessel by an adjustment of the resultant of the resistance of
the wTater on the lee-side when on a wind.
The considerations which lead to a settlement of the
general dimensions of a vessel, and which must vary greatly
according to the purpose for which she is intended, having
been touched upon, it is proposed to give an outline of the
course pursued in designing the form, or making the con¬
structive drawing, as it is termed, of any vessel. Three
plans are required in all designs of vessels—the body-plan,
the sheer-plan, and the half-breadth plan (see Plate III.)
The form of the midship section, or a vertical cross-sec¬
tion at the point of greatest breadth, is generally the first
portion of a ship that is designed; the outline of the
sheer-plan may then be delineated, and after that the half¬
breadth plan may be begun. The vessel is supposed to
be divided into a certain number of horizontal sections, and
these are represented by the lines on the sheer-plan, marked
1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, and 5th water-line. The sheer-plan is either
a vertical longitudinal section, or a side-plan of the ship,
and on it may be delineated any points in her length or
height. On the half-breadth plan are delineated the out¬
lines of the horizontal sections previously referred to, and
marked water-lines. These horizontal sections may either
be parallel to the keel or to the intended water-line of the
vessel if she is intended to draw more water abaft than
forward. When parallel with the keel, they are sometimes
called level-lines. The midship section is not necessarily
in the middle of the length; it is called dead-flat, and is
always marked as shown on the plate. The length of the
vessel is divided into any desired number of sections, and
these sections are marked forward and aft from dead-flat with
distinguishing letters and figures. The water-lines being
also drawn upon the midship section or body-plan, the form
of the body at each section in the half-breadth plan is ob¬
tained by finding the distance from the centre-line at each
water-line, and transferring it to the body-plan, showing
the sections of the fore-body and of the after-body on dif¬
ferent sides of the middle-line. In addition to these lines,
Ship in
motion.
the vessel is supposed to be cut into various longitudinal Forces
sections, at given distances from the centre-line; these acting on a
lines of sections are shown on the half-breadth and body
plans ; and the form of the body where these cut the exte¬
rior surface of the ship are shown on the sheer-plan ; they
are marked Iv, 2v, 3v, in all the plans. The sections
represented in all these plans must be fair and of easy cur¬
vature, and many little alterations w'ill probably require to
be made by the draughtsman, to get them to coincide.
The constructor or designer is now in a position to test
his work by making the necessary calculations. These
will be comprised in ascertaining the area of the midship
section, the area of the load-water section, the displace¬
ment, the positions of the centres of gravity of these two
sections, and also the position of the centre of gravity of
the displacement.
The areas of the twm sections, and the positions of their
respective centres of gravity, are required to be determined,
on account of the influence of these areas and their posi¬
tions on the content of the displacement, and the position
of its centre of gravity, and also in consequence of their
influence on the stability of the ship. If the results of these
calculations do not accord with the intentions of the con¬
structor, or are inadequate to the development of his design,
he must make such alterations in his curves or in his dimen¬
sions as he may consider necessary, before proceeding fur¬
ther with his design ; and if he shall have sufficiently
informed himself on the theory of ships, he will be enabled
to do so with considerable confidence at this stage of his
progress, as to the final result of his work.
These calculations are no doubt laborious, but there is
no difficulty in them, and any moderately educated subor¬
dinate may soon be taught to assist greatly in working
them out. Space will not permit an example to be given
here; but the labour will be greatly facilitated by tabular
forms, and examples will be found in Mr Peake’s work on
Ship-building, and in one of a series of articles on Ship¬
building in the London Mechanics' Magazine for 1859.
Before the design can be considered complete, it is ne¬
cessary to ascertain the weight of the hull and of the whole
of the proposed contents of the ship, and compare these
with the calculated displacement. It is seldom that these
weights can be obtained with perfect accuracy, and it is
therefore scarcely necessary in practice to go to any undue
labour to bring out results to fractions.
It is usual to delineate the results of the calculations of Scale of
the displacement in the form shown in Plate IV. The curved displace-
line representing the displacement of the ship at any draught. ment>
As a guide in commencing a design, it is also usual, and Proportion
very useful, to know what proportion the circumscribing of circum-
parallelopipedon will bear to the body of the ship—that is,
multiply the intended length, breadth, and draught of water pjpecion,
of the ship together, and deduct such portion as will leave
a body of a form of any desired fineness. The amount to
be deducted, or the decimal fraction by which the parallelo-
pipedon is to be multiplied, varies, of course, for every class
of ship.
The form of the midship section, and of the other sections Influence
near it and therefore influenced by it, affect the question of form on
of rolling, by affecting the position of the centres of gravity rolling*
of the displacement and of the ship and her weights; but
there is no doubt but that if it were possible to keep these
centres of gravity relatively in the same position with different
forms of bodies, the rapidity and extent of rolling would still
be influenced by the form, and be different. No rules can
be laid down definitely on this subject; but ships with a
form of midship-section approaching a semicircle have a
bad reputation for rolling; as also those with a very rising
floor, if accompanied with great beam, or such beam that
the half-breadth exceeds the draught of water by more
than 1 or 2 feet. A flat floor is also injurious, as tending
SHIP-BUILDING.
Forms of
water-
lines.
Vertical
lines.
Form and to keep the centre of gravity of the displacement too low.
Tonnage of Some good midship-sections of ships of various classes will
^ Vessels. ^ pe founcj jn Fincham’s Outlines of Ship-Building; but
the great length now given to the fore and after bodies of
ships renders the effect of the form of the midship-section
much less influential on the general properties of a vessel
than formerly, when the proportion of length was so much
less.
For the water-lines of vessels no definite instructions
have been attempted to be laid dowm that have been of any
practical value. A few general remarks may be made, to
the effect that certain degrees of sharpness seem suited for
different degrees of speed—the faster the vessel, the finer are
the lines required ; and if a moderate amount of power only
be applied to a vessel, so that her speed cannot be great,
it will be of little avail to give her finer lines than those
suited to her actual speed. Hollow water-lines below the
surface of the water seem to be beneficial for high velocities,
but not at the wrater-line or above it, as the weaves seem then
to dash into the hollow and obstruct the vessel’s way, by
their being confined and not passing freely away.
In all the plates given with this article, vertical lines are
shown. The form of vessels, in respect of the sections shown
by these lines, would appear to have been too much ne¬
glected by naval architects. It is considered that the form
of vessels at the bows or at the stern, may be looked upon
as made up of lines representing a wedge with its face
vertical, and dividing the w'ater sideways, combined with
other lines representing an inclined plane, as in the Thames
barges. Bodies of a u'edge form were experimented upon
by Colonel Beaufoy, as also others, with an inclined plane
forward and aft to compare with them, and the results
were decidedly in favour of the inclined plane ; the inclined
plane in the after-body having been proved decidedly supe¬
rior.1 I he bodies which gave these results were those
designated b, m, and p, b,p, and the experiments were
conducted at the surface, and not with the bodies totally
submerged.
1 he tonnage of a ship is her assumed capacity for carry¬
ing cargo of any description. The capacity or space re¬
quired for a ton of iron being very different from that re¬
quired for a ton of light goods, a certain number of cubic
feet are necessarily taken as the measure of a vessel’s ton¬
nage. An empirical rule, founded upon obsolete propor¬
tions of a vessel’s dimensions, continued in use for many
years, serving as a measurement, not only of builders’ ton¬
nage, but also of the register tonnage for regulating the
dues payable by the ship. This rule is still continued by
builders as the measure by which ships are bought and
sold; but as the price per ton may be varied in the same
proportion as the dimensions, and are known at the time of
purchase or sale, no evil results arise from this adherence
to the old rule, however far the measurement may be from
the truth.
rids rule for old or builders’ measurement was estab¬
lished by act of Parliament in the reign of George III.
It enacted, that “ the length shall be taken in a straight
line along the rabbet of the keel of the ship, from the back
of the main stern-post to a perpendicular line from the
fore-parts of the main-stem under the bowsprit. The
breadth also shall be taken from the outside of the outside
p ank, in the broadest part of the ship, either above or be¬
low the main wales, exclusive of all manner of doubling
planks that may be wrought upon the sides of the ship.”
If the ship be afloat, the directions are, “ to drop a plumb-
me over the stern of the ship, and measure the distance
between such line and the after-part of the stern-post, at
t e load-water mark; then measure from the top of the said
p umb-line, in a parallel direction with the water, to a per-
163
Tonnage
pendicular point immediately over the load-water mark at Form and
the fore-part of the main-stem; subtracting from such ad- ’Tonnage of
measurement the above distance, the remainder will be the Vessels-
ship’s extreme length, from which is to be deducted 3 inches
for every foot of the load draft of water for the rake abaft;
from the length, taken in either of the ways above-men¬
tioned, subtract fths of the breadth taken as above, the
remainder is esteemed the just length of the keel to find the
tonnage; then multiply this length by the breadth, and
that product by half the breadth, and dividing by 94, the
quotient is deemed the true contents of the lading.”
I he existing act for ascertaining the tonnage is a great
improvement upon the above, anddts directions are as fol-
low: Divide the length of the upper-deck, between the
aftei-part of the stem and the foremost part of the stern-
post, into six equal parts. Depth,—at the foremost, middle,
and aftei most of these points of division, measure in feet,
and decimal parts of a foot, the depths from the under-side
of the upper-deck to the ceiling at the limber-strake. In
case of a break m the upper-deck, the depths are to be
measured from a line stretched in a continuation of the deck.
Breadths, divide each of these three depths into five equal
paits, and measure the inside breadths at the followina•
points; viz., at Jth and at £ths from the upper-deck of
the foremost and aftermost depths, and at fths and fths
from the upper-deck of the midship depth. Length,—at half
the midship depth, measure the length of the vessel from
the after-part of the stem to the foremost part of the stern-
post ; then to twice the midship depth add the foremost and
aftermost depths for the sum of the depth; add together
the upper and lower breadths, at the foremost division,
three times the upper breadths and the lower breadth at
the midship division, and the upper and twdee the lower
breadth at the after-division, for the sum of breadths ; then
multiply the sum of the breadths by the sum of the depths,
and this pioduct by the length, and divide the final pro¬
duct by 3500, which will give the number of tons for re¬
gister. If the vessel have a poop, or half-deck, or a break
in the upper-deck, measure the inside mean length, breadth,
and height of such part thereof as may be included within
the bulkhead. Multiply these three measurements toge¬
ther, and dividing the product by 92-4, the quotient will be
the number of tons to be added to the result as above
found. In order to ascertain the tonnage of open vessels,
the depths are to be measured from the upper edge of the
upper strake. In vessels propelled by steam, the tonnage
due to the cubical contents of the engine-room is to be de¬
ducted from the gross tonnage thus found. It is enacted
that the tonnage due to the cubical contents of the engine-
room shall be determined in the following manner; that is
to say, measure the inside length of the engine-room in feet,
and decimal parts of a foot, from the foremost to the after¬
most bulkhead, then multiply the said length by the depth
of the ship or vessel at the midship division aforesaid, and
the product by the inside breadth at the same division, at
two-fifths of the depth from the deck, taken as aforesaid,
and divide the last product by 92*4, and the quotient will
be deemed the tonnage due to the cubical contents of the
engine-room.
Among the plates will be found vessels of the highest
character of the present day. The Pera of the Peninsular
and Oriental Company’s fleet is a well-known vessel, and
one whose results are looked upon as of the highest cha¬
racter ; and if the form of her body, as shown by the verti¬
cal lines on the sheer-plan, be examined and compared
with those of any of the other vessels, it will be seen that
she excels in this particular. The kindness of the different
owners and builders in permitting the lines of their dif¬
ferent vessels to be published has been great, and it is to
1 Beaufoy’s Nautical and Hydraulic Experiments, Introduction, p. 43.
164
SHIP-BUILDING.
26 feet.
18 ft. 6 In.
"The clipp™8^^ Schomberg, represented in Plate
III , is a specimen of a first-class Aberdeen clipper, bmlt
b^ r^es*r^ is]es is a very fine iron vessel, built by Constructors’ load draught j aft
Messrs Jn. Scott and Company of Cartsdyke, near Green- Di lacement at constructors’ load draught ..... 3440 tons
ock Although a sharp ship, she carries a good cargo of RatPe of ships> displacement at constructors load j ton
UL/IV* -*■ O _ J_ /1k» fivcf J   4-    )
Displacement (D) at trial draught 3440 tons-
Area of maximum immersed section (A) at the I 606 ^
Distance of maximum section (A) measuring from | 15g feet_
  "forward". 18 feet.
19 „
Perfor¬
mances and
Tonnage.
rht and measurement goods combined. On her first
voyage from Clyde to Sydney she had 1300 tons of weight
and measurement cargo on board, and made the passage in
70 fiavs a passage which, it is believed, has not yet
been surpassed. Her register tonnage is 691TJV tons;
and her tonnage, by builders’ measurement, is 7/0 tons.
She also made a passage from Shanghae to London in
87 days with 1030 tons of tea on board. On one voyage
die averaged 320 nautical miles for five consecutive days ;
and on her last voyage to China, in crossing the N.E. trades,
her average way was over 12 knots. .
Plates V. and VI. represent the rival yachts Titama and
America, when the prize was carried off from all England
by the latter. The sections of the vertical lines are shown
upon the drawings of both of these yachts; and if the ver¬
tical lines on the sheer-plan of the one are traced and laid
upon those of the other, a marked difference m favour of
the America will be apparent. _,,
Plate VII. is a representation of a paddle-steamer, tne
Delta. The engines in this vessel were taken out of a
vessel of 500 tons, and put into the Delta, of nearly four
times this tonnage, and the result is a specimen of what
may be achieved by fine lines with a judicious application
O o
be o
G > •
'E-s c
^5 o.2
<2 ’i
■?.o g
486
606
489
253-5
draught.
Area of immersed vertical section at the \ f
distance of i length measuring from j. 256 5 sq. tt.
stem 
Do. i do- do-
Do. i do- do-
Do. I do- do-
Do. i do- do-
Displacement at draught of 4' 7J", being j 300 tons>
l load draught ‘ |
Displacement at draught of 9' 3 , being i 1 1165 ^
load draught   J
Displacement at draught of 13' 10^", being 1 22i0 ^
| load draught ••••• •••••• 1
Displacement at draught of 18 6 , or load 1 3440 ^
i draught  
“ The foregoing data afford all the particulars required for the
construction of Peake’s curve of vertical sections whence may he
deduced the position of the vertical line passing through the centre
of gravity of displacement, and also the positions of the centre of
gravity of the fore and aft bodies respectively.
b “ It will he observed, from the foregoing data of the construc¬
tive elements of the Bremen, that the maximum immersed section
is at the middle of the length, and that the vertical sections are in
such ratio to each other, with reference to their respective posi¬
tions, that the curve of vertical sections will be a close approxi¬
mation to a parabola.
“The ratios deducible from the foregoing particulars of con-
of power ; the larger vessel having nearly a knot more speed
Plates VIII.and IX. represent the Great Eastern, and ^ raL1UB     o .
from the fineness of her lines there can be no doubt ot her gtructive data) combining Peake’s curve of immersed vertical sec-
’ ’ ' ’ * tions with the curve of displacement, will give a close approxima¬
tion to the type of form of the immersed hull.
« rpjje engines of the Bremen consist of two direct-acting inverted
evlinders, 90 inches diameter and 3 feet 6 inches stroke^ fitted with
expansion-valves capable of working expansively to a high degree.
All parts of the engines are felted and lagged with wood wherever
practicable, the lower 16 feet of the funnel being surrounded by a
casing forming a superheating chamber, the steam entering a e
lower end, and passing off at the top into the steam-pipes leading
to the cylinders. , , ..... „ j;
“ On the important question as to the extent to which the ordi¬
nary smooth-water trial of a steamer affords a criterion of the
general average performance that may be expected of the vessel at
sea, this committee has not been able to obtain such an extent of
returns of the comparative smooth-water trials and sea perform¬
ances of the same ships as enable them fully to respond to this part
of the inquiry, and they refrain from expressing any speculative
opinion, because they have adopted the principle which they desire
to recommend to the notice of the British Association, that shipping
improvement is to be discovered by statistical record and analysis
of the constructive elements of ships that have practically shown
themselves to possess good sea properties, rather than by assuming
the mere theories of opinionative speculation, from whatever source
such opinions may emanate; in short, that experience of actual
performances at sea, statistically recorded and utilized by b®ing
made the basis of comparison, is the most reliable base on which
to construct an inductive system of progressive improvement in
- ■ • ■ This commit-
success, if the engines do their duty
Plate X. is a representation of the Bremen, a vessel
whose performances have been such as to attract special
attention, and to lead the Committee appointed by the
British Association for the Advancement of science to
make the following report concerning her
“ This Committee are assured, on authority which they believe
to be unquestionable, that a certain vessel, the Bremen, of 4
tons displacement at the time of trial, propelled by eng'nes work¬
ing up to 1624 indicated horse-power, attained the speed of 13 15
nautical miles per hour. Now, if we estimate the dynamic duty
thus performed by the formula lnd^ H jr^ C’ we shali haV the
(13-15P * (3440)3 __ 2274 X 227-88_ ^ and
co-efficient, C = TQ2<k ~~ l®24
this co-efficient of dynamic duty, resulting from the mutual e lation
of displacement, speed, and power, appears, from the statements
which have been communicated to this Committee nearly 50 per
cent, higher than that realised by the average performance of the
steamships of the present day. The following are the co-efficients
of dynamic duty deduced by the foregoing rule from the perform¬
ances of mercantile steamers of high repute, of winch the trial
data have been communicated to this commltte®> V1Z ,3pff5’290n ’
288, 259, 248, 231, 230, and 204, and many others below 200.
“ This Committee, therefore, regard the Bremen as being a feli¬
citous exemplification of naval architecture as respects type of naval architecture and marine-engine construction
- _ i ? — m nud aS W6 COHCeiV6 tiLicit til© »  — ~*v**«aV« rtn+?ePo/'»4''inn -in VtPincr PTlft-D
form adapted for easy propulsion ;
promulgation of some of the constructive ,
m»y be of public importance, *• «
and enabled, by Messrs Caird Lni Company, of Greenock the con
structors of the ship and of the engines, to communica e 0
British Association the following statistical data as o le e emen
of construction of the Bremen :—
Length between perpendiculars of stem and rud- \ 34g feek
derpost 4
Breadth of beam.
40
tee however, have much satisfaction in being enabled to commence
this inquiry by recording the sea performance of the before-men¬
tioned vessel Bremen, on a passage from Bremen Haven to New
York and back, during the months of June and July last, during
the whole of which passages indicator-cards were frequently taken,
and the indicated working power of the engines ascertained. On
the out-passage the mean displacement was 2878 tons, the mean
indicated horse-power was 1078, and the mean speed 10-28 knots
per hour, giving a coefficient by the formula referred to-—204 ;
but on the return-passage the mean displacement was 2990, the
l The Bremen L referred to .. being the veesel which ^ WhiCh
brought before the Committee, end of which the etatietical data of construction were also given in 1
SH1P-B UILDIiN G.
165
Perfor- mean indicated horse-power 1010 and the mean speed at the rate
mances. of 11,92 knots per hour, giving a co-efficient = 348. Hence, the
j-  1 mean co-efficient of the out and home passage = 276, being about
13 per cent, below the co-efficient (319) obtained on the smooth-
water test-trial of the ship. The state of the weather and the sea
was also recorded daily : it appears to have been adverse on the
out passage, but favourable on the home passage. The committee
are therefore of opinion, that by following up this course of sta¬
tistical record of the smooth-water trial and subsequent sea per¬
formances of ships respectively, a tabular statement might be com¬
piled, showing the probable ratios of the coefficients of smooth-
water and sea performance, corresponding to the various rates of
speed for which steamers may be respectively powered, whence the
smooth-water test-trials of ships may be made available as approxi¬
mately indicative of the sea service capabilities of ships as respects
their dynamic properties.
“ Such are the statistical data of the constructive elements and
dynamic capabilities of the Bremen ; and if all steam-vessels engaged
in the mercantile transport service of Britain were equally effec¬
tive as respects the mutual relations of displacement, speed, and
power ; that is, capable of producing a coefficient of dynamic capa¬
bility = 319, by the formula referred to, it is probable that the
prime cost expenses of steamship transport per ton weight of cargo
conveyed on long passages would, on the aggregate of the foreign
trade of Britain, be reduced not less than 25 per cent, as compared
with the prime cost expenses incurred by steam-vessels of the
average dynamic capability in present use.”
Tabulated results of the performances of many vessels
will be found in the article Steam Navigation ; but tbe
following results of the trials in smooth water of four of the
vessels, whose lines and dimensions are given in the plates,
may be quoted here :—
Name of ship.
Del ta..,
Ceylon
Pera ...
Nubia .
Draught
of water.
ft. in.
15 0
18 6
18 3£
17 3
Indicated Speed in
Horse-power. knots.
1612
2054
1373
1422
14-609
13-340
12-633
12-149
Perfor¬
mances.
Plates XL, XII., XIII., and XIV. are specimens of very
fine vessels in the fleet of the Peninsular and Oriental Com¬
pany. Ihe Pera is especially celebrated for her perform¬
ances, as also the Ceylon. The following table is interest¬
ing as showing the performances of the Nubia on her actual
voyages at sea: —
S.S. Nubia.—Calcutta to Suez
Voyage.
No.
4
5
6
7
8
9
Sandheads to
Madras,
663 Miles.
52 25
66 55
67 5
54 55
56 0
59 40
Speed.
12 5
9 7
9 7
12 0
11 7
11 1
Madras to
Point de Galle,
545 Miles.
Point de Galle
to Aden,
2134 Miles.
Time.
H. M.
43 8
52 30
56 5
46 30
42 20
57 0
Speed. Time.
178 55
201 27
244 55
193 48
166 28
176 50
Speed.
11 7
10 5
8 6
11 0
12 6
12 1
Aden to Suez,
1308 Miles.
Time.
114 20
112 45
124 30
118 0
113 58
124 40
Speed.
Under Weigh.
Sandheads to
Suez,
4650 Miles.
Under Steam.
Calcutta to
Suez,
4757 Miles.
Aver. Speed.
Sandheads
to Suez.
Coal Consumption.
Calcutta to Suez
per
Voyage. I Hour. j Mile.
388
433
492
413
378
418
48
37
35
13
43
10
B.
431
464
530
474
411
441
Under weigh, 27,900 miles )
Under steam, 28,542 miles J
Total 
Average.
2525 6
420 51
2751 0
458 30
K.
12
10
9
11
12
11
Ton s.
974
1140
1194
1058
1046
1090
c. qr. lb.
45 0 22
49 0 15
45 0 6
44 2 16
50 3 17
49 1 23
c. qr. lb.
4 0 11
4 3 5
5 0 2
4 1 22
4 1 16
4 2 9
11 0
6502
10831
47 1 2
4 2 6
Suez to Calcutta.
Voyage.
No.
*3
5
6
7
Suez to Aden,
1308 Miles.
112 15
108 10
112 0
122 10
129 40
118 15
Speed.
11 0
Aden to
Point de Galle,
2134 Miles.
Time.
178 0
174 40
190 55
206 30
194 15
192 10
Speed-
12 0
12 2
11 1
10 3
11 0
11 1
Point de Galle
to Madras,
5i5 Miles.
51 15
44 50
48 50
53 0
47 25
47 20
Speed.
10 5
12 1
11 1
10 2
11 4
11 4
Madras to
Sandheads,
663 Miles.
Time. Speed.
55 30
50 45
52 30
65 25
55 15
47 45
12 0
13 0£
12 5
10 1
12 0
13 7
Under weigh, 27,900 miles
Under steam, 28,542 miles
Total 
Average.
Under Weigh.
Suez to
Sandheads,
4650 Miles.
397 0
378 25
404 15
447 5
426 35
405 30
2458 50
409 52
Under weigh, 55,800 miles ) „ , _
Under steam, 57,084 miles j <jran^ Total.
Average,
4983 56
Under Steam
Suez to
Calcutta,
4757 Miles.
n. m.
431 0
433 0
443 0
478 0
454 0
434 0
2673 0
445 30
5424 0
Aver. Speed,
Suez to
Sandheads.
11
12
11
10
10
11
11 3
11 1T%
Coal Consumption.
Suez to Calcutta
per
Voyage. Hour.
Tons.
1060
1092
1048
1176
1174
1082
6632
1105£
Mile.
c. qr. lb.
49 0 21
50 1 21
47 1 7
49 0 23
51 2 24
49 3 12
49 2 14
13134
48 1 20
c. qr. lb.
4 1 23
2 10
1 18
3 22
3 23
2 5
4 2 16
4 2 11
Distance in calculating speed taken from Sandheads; but, in calculating consumption of coal, the whole distance to Calcutta is
taken.—Coal account not available for other distances.
* Instead of Voyage 4, on which iron shaft was broken.
166
SHIP-BUILDING.
Materials MATERIALS USED IN SHIP-BUILDING,
used ia
Ship- Nothing can be more important to the naval architect
Building. than a thorough knowledge of the properties of the mate-
rials with which he has to deal. He requires this to enable
Import- him to dispose them to the gteatest advantage, and with
anceof a tjie ]eagt p0SSible expenditure; and thus to produce a well-
knowledge rtioned structure of great and uniform strength. The
perties^of" introduction of iron as a material for ship-building has en-
materials. larged this field of inquiry, and has led to much discussion
as to its merits in comparison with those of timber.
Timber. The properties of timber will be first considered. A
lengthened examination into the nature and qualities of the
different varieties used in ship-building cannot, however,
be attempted here, as the space which can be allotted to
the subject will not admit of more than a few practical-
observations. Deterioration and decay, in timber-built
Durability, ships, may result either from the decay to which timber
itself is subject, in common with all organic matter, and
which may be hastened or retarded according as destruc¬
tive or preservative influences are brought into action ; or
they may be the consequences of an injudicious combina¬
tion of destructive agents with the inorganic compounds of
the timber, thus inducing not only premature but unnatural
decay. All large masses of timber in close contact are
subject to deteriorating influences, such as a high degree of
temperature, an increase of moisture, or a want of free
circulation of air. These and other agencies, by promot¬
ing fermentation, lead to the first stage of decomposition,
whereas the reverse of these conditions would in like man¬
ner retard its progress. Moisture as well as heat is neces¬
sary to produce fermentation, but when heat and the other
agencies are at work, moisture wbll generally be found to
exist, either left in the timber itself, or absorbed by it from
the atmosphere.
Dry-rot. Decay of timber, when accompanied by the growth of
fungi upon its surface, has received the name of dry-rot.
This term was probably applied to it in consequence of the
peculiarity, that wood so decomposed becomes a dry friable
mass without fibrous tenacity, the parasitical fungi robbing
the timber of its substance to support their own growth.
In general, decay, when it takes place in this pai ticular
form, may be traced to imperfectly seasoned material, and^
the inference may be drawn with a considerable degiee of
probability, that the natural juices of the timber are neces¬
sary to the growth of fungi, and consequently that if these
juices could be entirely abstracted or destroyed, this species
of decay might be prevented. It does not follow that the
presence of any of these juices will necessarily produce dry-
rot, should the circumstances in which the timber is placed
be such as to tend to their dispersion, or to their icmaining
in a dormant state. But as they do undoubtedly lemain in^
much timber that is considered seasoned, any alteration of
circumstances to prevent a free circulation of air, to lead
to a deposition of additional moisture, and at the same time
to an increased temperature, will in all probability induce
the growth of fungi, and cause the destruction of the
timber.
In ships, the frequent presence of these injurious ele¬
ments must necessarily tend to produce fermentation. But
though these facts are perfectly well known, it is remark¬
able how little attention has been paid to the necessity of
a free circulation of air upon the timber of such parts of a
ship as are below the surface of the water. Ihis may be
effected in various ways, though it is doubtful whether in
all cases the current of air produced by natural causes
would induce a sufficiently rapid circulation. This sub¬
ject was forcibly brought before the Admiralty by Mr
Creuze in 1827, but was not taken up or acted upon. In
the navy, the decrease of expense which would be occa¬
sioned by aiiy increase of durability in ships, laid up in
ordinary, would be great; and in reality, with proper care Materials
and arrangements, there is no reason why the timbers of a used iQ
ship so situated should not be almost as durable as the same BS.^P-
wood employed in houses and other structures. The ex- v ^
pense caused by decay is even greater in ships than in
houses, yet the attention paid to the subject has been in
an inverse ratio. The same facilities for the prevention of
decay are not available for ships in commission, and if their
timbers should have been unseasoned, or have had much of
the natural sap left in them, dry-rot must almost necessarily
ensue. It may be especially looked for in ships sent to a
warm climate immediately after their construction, and ex¬
posed to a high temperature, and of its attacking these,
many instances have occurred even within the last few years.
The same evils exist to a greater degree in merchant-
vessels. Private ship-builders are unable to keep their
capital locked up in a large stock of the different classes of
timber fit for the different ships they may be called upon
to build, and as the purchaser ordinarily requires a speedy
execution of his order, the use of unseasoned timber is the
necessary consequence. No better arrangements for the
prevention of decay seem to be made on board of merchant¬
men, after they are built, than on board of men-of-war.
Llovd’s register of shipping may be said to have an injuri¬
ous influence on this question. 1 he register is kept by a
joint-stock company, and a committee of their body com¬
posed of ship-owners, merchants, and underwriters, with a
staff of professional surveyors, have laid down a code of
rules for the construction of ships as a guide to their classi¬
fication on survey. By these rules, a ship built of the very
best species of timber, thoroughly seasoned, can be classed
as a first-class ship for twelve years only; a renewal for
eight years may be obtained, but not without much trouble
and expense; and further extension again of four years
involves another expensive survey. Sufficient inducements
are apparently, therefore, not held out for increasing the
durability of ships. Many teak-built ships have lasted
longer than these assigned limits, and yet no attempts have
been made to rival them, thus leading to the belief that
Lloyd’s rules have had the effect of rendering builders and
owners satisfied with existing results. It has been argued
that, to season a ship after she is built, by a free circulation
of air, will cause shrinkage, and thus injure the good fit¬
ting and the strength of the fabric, and that it will strain
the fastenings, and admit damp, and thus cause the decay
it was intended to obviate. In reply to this it may be urged,
that shrinkage could never be produced to this extent on
the timbers of a ship by the circulation of air, had they not
been in such an unseasoned state as to be totally unfit for
use; and that even in such a case, it would be far better
to take the chance of less certain mischief, than to leave
the ship to inevitable destruction by dry-rot. These remarks
show the importance of well-seasoned timber for ship¬
building, and have been insisted upon here, not from any
supposed want of general knowledge of the fact, but to
show the importance of applying the means which exist to
remedy the evil.
It must be evident that when timber is to be closely
jointed to other timber, to form a compact mass, the whole
should not be wet with rain, or water-soaked when put in
place. The importance of this is recognised by Lloyd’s
rules allowing one year to be added to the prescribed period
of durability of any ship built under a roof. All vessels
laid down in royal dockyards have this advantage.
Different species of timber are possessed of very different Different
qualities, both as regards their durability and their strength, qualities n
Oaks and other hard close-grained woods, being the most dlfferen*f
durable, are chiefly used for the frames of ships. The
juices of the oak are of an acid nature, and besides the
ligneous, which it has in common with other woods, it con¬
tains the Gallic acid peculiar to itself. Oak when used in
SHIP-BUILDING.
16L
Materials an unseasoned state is extremely liable to dry-rot, which
used m jn some cases has been found to destroy it in the space of
a few months. Teak is a very valuable timber for ship-
u building, but like .other woods it varies much in quality
Y according to the soil in which it is grown, and consequently
requires great care in its selection. Morning saul, green
heart, morra, and iron-bark, are also valuable woods. Like
teak they are extremely durable, and are more oily and
resinous in their nature than oak. The whole of the fore¬
going are classed together by Lloyd’s committee as supe¬
rior woods, and are admitted for the construction of ships
classed for a durability of twelve years. The general
classification of woods by this committee is as follows:—
Mahogany of hard texture, Cuba Sebicu, and pencil]
cedar, Adriatic, Spanish, and French oak   J years.
Red cedar, Angelly, and Venatica; other continental]
white oaks, Spanish chesnut, stringy bark, and blue l 9 „
green J
North American white oak, and American sweet chesnut 8 ,,
Larch, hackmatack, tamarac and juniper, pitch pine ] w
and English ash J < 51
Cowdie, American rock elm  6 .,
Baltic and American red pine, European and American 1 r
grey elm, black birch, spruce fir, English beech j 0 »
Hemlock  4 ()
There are some slight variations in the durability as¬
signed to these when used for other parts of the ship than
the ribs or frames. Elm, which decays very rapidly when
alternately wet and dry, is very durable if kept constantly
submerged in water. On this account, as well as for its
qualities of strength and toughness, it is well adapted for
the keels of vessels. Other woods will be mentioned here¬
after when the sources of the supply of timber for ship¬
building are considered.
feans of The difficulty of obtaining properly seasoned timber
reserving whenever it may be wanted, and the great expense attend-
raber' ing the early decay of unseasoned "timber, have led to
various means being proposed for its preservation. Satu¬
rating the timber with various chemical compounds, has
been the method generally suggested for its accomplish¬
ment. In India, Machonochie, by steaming his timber,
and then condensing the steam in the tank, and producing
a partial vacuum, endeavoured to dissolve and carry off the
juices of the timber, and he then submerged it in an oil
' teaming obtained from the chips and sawdust of teak. Steaming or
jjlr.dpick- storing timber has always been considered advantageous
ng tim' f°r wood used in a green state. Exposing it to the action
of water has been advocated with the same view, and this
certainly tends to shorten the time required for weather
seasoning thereafter. About 40 years ago the timber used
in the royal dockyards w7as ordered to be submerged in
salt water for some time, and then stamped with the word
“salt.” Pieces of sound timber with this mark are found in
Corrosive men-of-war up to the present day. Mr Kyan patented a
ublimate. process for preserving timber, by saturating it with corrosive
sublimate; and Sir W. Burnett, late Medical Director-
^londBcf General of the Navy, patented the use of chloride of zinc,
Ire' ^Ut With ne'^‘er °f these processes is the effect in all cases
re°z° e' certain. Creozote appears to preserve timber with greater
certainty than any other chemical material yet used. The
timber is put into a close tank, the air is abstracted, and
the vacuum is kept up for two or three hours by continued
pumping, to allow' the air to escape from the pores of the
wood. I he creozote is then introduced, and is forced into
the tank, until a pressure of about 150 lb. to a square inch
IS obtained. This pressure is kept up by continued pump¬
ing during successive days for forty-eight hours, or for as
ong as may be required to make the timber absorb the
requisite amount. I his process is chiefly used for pine tim-
c>- \ellow pine should absorb about 11 lb. to the cubic
oot, and Riga pine about 8 1b. The timber is weighed
beioie it is put into the tank, and again after it is taken
out, to ascertain the amount absorbed. Should this prove
less than the amount required, it is returned to the tank
for a repetition of the process.
Creosoted timber has hitherto been chiefly used by civil
engineers in land and sea works. The objections to its use
in ship-building are its offensive smell and its great inflam¬
mability. Its power of protecting timber from natural decay,
and of resisting the toredo novalis, or any of the other
worms to whose ravages ship’s timber is subject, if it be not
thoroughly covered with copper sheathing, appear to render
it peculiarly fit for such a purpose as doubling upon a ship.
If found to answer, it might be used in thin boards as a
sheathing instead of copper.
Another process which is applicable to the preservation of Dr Bou-
certain descriptions of straight-grained and porous timber, cherie’s
has been patented by Dr Boucherie, a French chemist ofProcess
note, and been brought forward in this country by a com- w‘!h r’u*'
pany formed^ for the maintenance of the permanent way of^0p gr°
railways. I hey have published the following information
respecting it. Instead of using great pressure, as before
explained, to impregnate the tree, a moderate pressure only
is applied to one end of it; the effect is to expel the sap,
and fill the tubes or pores of the timber with the preserving
liquor. The tubular structure of trees has been long
known, and Dr Boucherie’s process show’s that no connec¬
tion exists between the tubes laterally. Colouring liquid
applied in the form of a letter or word at one end of the
tree appears in the same shape at the other. The fluid
used by Dr Boucherie is a solution composed of one part
of sulphate of copper to one hundred parts of water by
weight. I he specific gravity of the solution, when of
proper strength, at 60° Fahr., is 1*006, or nearly so. A
water-tight cap is placed on one end of the tree which is to
be saturated, and the solution is introduced within it by a
flexible tube. The pressure required not being more than
from 15 to 20 lb. on the square inch, it may be obtained in
a very simple w'ay, by raising the tank which contains the
solution 30 or 40 feet from the ground. When the pres¬
sure is applied the sap runs in a stream from the opposite
end of the tree; and a ready means exists of discovering
when it is exhausted and the whole length of the tree
penetrated, by rubbing the end with a piece of prussiate of
potash, which will leave a deep brown mark when brought
into contact with the copper of the solution. The sap and
surplus solution, should any pass through the tree, may be
pumped back into the reservoir, the sap being a better
solvent of the sulphate of copper than w’ater, if it should
happen to be impregnated with lime or other impurities.
There are certain kinds of timber which are impenetrable
by the solution applied in the manner described. It
answers best with trees that are the least costly, as beech,
birch, larch, Scotch fir, alder, elm, poplar, &c. Trees felled
any time between November and May may be prepared in
the latter month. But when they are cut down in May or
any month between then and November, they should be
prepared within three weeks of the time of felling. It has
been found, in the preparation by this system of vast quan¬
tities of timber for the French navy and railways, that the
time necessary for the operation depends both on the length
of the tree and on the description of timber. Trees of 40
feet in length, prepared at Fontainbleau for the French
navy, required from eight to ten days to become sufficiently
impregnated ; whereas for lengths of 9 feet only, the pro
cess was accomplished in twenty-four hours. A summary
of experiments made in Derby with this process is given
in the following table. It will be observed from the facts
there stated, that the pores of the poplar are more pervious
than those of other woods; and the rapid and large absorp¬
tion of the fluid by the memel timber shows, that the pores
of fir timber, when the natural juices are dried up, still
afford a continuous channel for its flow ;—«
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
168
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Summary of Experiments.
So.
of
Ex¬
peri¬
ment.
Date.
April 29,
May 1,
May 5,
May 7,
May 9,
May 10,
May 22,
May 23,
1856
1856
1856
1856
1856
1856
1856
1856
Description
of
Wood.
Beech
Spruce Fir
Poplar
Elm
Alder
Memel
Birch
Scotch Fir
When cut down.
Length
Average
Diameter.
January, 1856
April 23, 1856
April 1, 1856
Dec. 1855
Feb. 1856
May 21, 1856
Feet.
18
18
m
18
18
18*
18
18
Inches.
12*
Hi
11*
11*
11
11 by 11
12*
12*
Cubic
Con¬
tent.
Amount of
pure Sap
forced out
before
Solution
perceptible.
Feet.
14f
13J
13*
13*
12
15*
14f
14*
Quarts.
33
27
Amount of
Solution
used to effect
this.
Quarts.
64
50
Time
in forcing
pure Sap
out.
Total
Amount
of Solu¬
tion run
out of
Tank
during
opera¬
tion.
Hours.
4
5
Copper perceptible from commencement.
43 | 58 | 1*
Copper perceptible from commencement.
32 34 25 minutes.
35 47 6
Quarts,
104
95
130
156
176
230
184
130
Time
of
Opera¬
tion.
Hours.
8*
12
11
23
31
50
3*
58
Amount
of
Sol ution
used per
cube
foot.
Quarts.
7-04
7- 00
9-60
11-52
14- 64
15- 08
12 00
8- 80
Material*
used in
Ship-
Building.
Weather
seasoning.
One great advantage attending this method, and which
is likely to render its application very general, is the inex¬
pensive nature of the apparatus required.
Seasoning timber, by exposing it for a lengthened period
without subjecting it to any other process, has received
much attention, and much controversy has arisen upon the
best mode of carrying it into effect. It may perhaps be
stated as the general opinion, that rough timber may be
improved in this country by stacking it off the ground,
that it may not be injured by damp. Sided timber, thick
stuff, and plank, should always be stowed under sheds, and
these must be airy and well ventilated, without partial
draught which could affect the ends or any one portion of
the timber more than another. Two or three years are
required to season these descriptions of timber to a mode¬
rate degree only. Mast spars are best protected when
submerged under water, and if buried in mud they are still
more effectuality preserved. Boards of mahogany or fir
are well seasoned by being stacked on end in the open air
without covering, but raised a little from the ground to
avoid damp. In the royal yards it was formerly the custom
to allow ships to stand in frame for various periods before
they were planked, but the necessity of building ships
rapidly has of late years precluded the possibility of doing
this; and the evil effects have been too apparent. The fol¬
lowing tables show the results of weather seasoning, as
collected by Mr Fincham, and published in his work on
the Outlines of Ship-Building ;—
A Table of the Shrinkage and Loss of Weight in Seasoning, of the principal Timbers used in Ship-building: the
period of seasoning was ten years.
Species of Timber.
Green.
Seasoned.
Dimens. ! Weight.
English Oak
African Oak,
Italian Larch
Scotch Larch
{butt 
to?  
butt 
top 
{butt 
to? 
butt 
top 
{butt....
top 
butt ....
top  
r butt....
J top 
''1 butt....
in.
by 6
Cuba Cedar.
L top .
I- butt
I top .
 | butt
l top .
{butt
butt
top .
lb. oz.
7 8
7 10
8 0
7 4
9 2
8 6
7 12
7 4
4 15
4 15
5 0
Relative shrinkage
and loss of weight.
Dimensions. Weight. Dimens. | Weight,
4 10
4 5
3 12
4 0
4 3
3 14
3 10
4 0*
3 12
4 6
4 5
6 by
j,
511 ,,
51 f „
r.is
°ia »
Kl 3
0Tff J>
512- „
511 »
£12 >»
511 „
511 »
512 )>
511 »
5U »
5lf „
5H >•
5if ,,
511 »
6
512 »
512 »
512 »
514 „
m.
512
512
512
512
512
512
512
512
512
512
512
512
5*2
511
512
512
512
512
6
6
512
512
512
512
lb. oz.
6 7
Weight of a cubic
foot.
Green.
6 10
4 8
4 9
4 9*
4 11
4 2*
4 1
4 0
3 7
3 12
3 12*
3 0
3 5
3 10
3 6*
3 8
3 9
1-000
1-010
1-010
1-000
1-068
1-066
1-033
1-010
1-000
1021
1-021
1-021
1-021
1-000
1 010
1-021
1-000
1-010
0-979
0-989
1-010
1-000
1-000
1-021
1-000
1-176
1-588
1-176
1-059
1-176
0-588
0-588
0-411
0-354
0-384
0-354
0-323
0-530
0-300
0-300
0 235
0-411
0 823
0-300
0-382
0-323
0 823
0 70S
lb.
60
61
64
58
73
67
62
58
39*
39*
40
40*
36
37
34*
30
32
33*
31
29
32*
30
35
34*
Seasoned.
lb.
51*
51
50*
48
64
57
57
53
36
36*
36J
37*
33*
32*
32
27*
30
30*
24
26*
29
27*
28
28*
A Table of the Transverse Shrinkage in Seasoning qf Board, 12 inches square and halfan-inch thick : the period of
seasoning teas thirteen years.
Species of Timber. Shrunk in Seasoning.
,T ,, f butt tsV the breadth.
Yellow Pine { „ V
l top  iV
J butt jV
  tV
Species of Timber. Shrunk in Seasoning.
English Oak  A tbs b-dth.
African Oak i ^utt V ”
( top  
(butt     »>
( top 3*1 »
f butt >»
\ top     TiV »
( butt 3V *»
\ top  33 »
Riga Fir 
Dantzic Fir 
Virginia Pine...
Larch 
English Elm..
Canada Elm.
Cowdie 
(top.
f butt.
' \ top...
J butt.
• \ top...
f butt.
• \top..
1 21
2V
■ tV
dr
• 31
&
SHIP-BUILDING. 169
Materials Seasoning timber by exposing it to a current of heated
used in ajr at a higher velocity than is engendered by natural
causes> was introduced by Mr Davison. The desiccating
v > ^, process, as he terms it, and as explained by him to the
institution of civil engineers in 1853, consists in impelling
timberraP'^ currents of air through a chamber or chambers con-
desicca- taining the wood ; spaces being left between the ranges or
tion. tiers of timber for the heated air to act uniformly upon all
its sides. The moisture, as soon as it is cooled, passes in¬
stantly away through an opening in the roof of the chamber,
and this appears to be a distinguishing and essential feature
in the process. The wood remains in the chamber until
by weighing a sample from time to time, the whole aqueous
matter had been expelled from its pores. Charring wood
in a sand-bath was practised in the beginning of the last
century, and apparently with some success; but the heat
must have been much greater than that employed by Davi¬
son, and the process probably was much more rapid. In car¬
rying out the desiccating system, attention must be paid to
the following points :—Different woods and different thick¬
nesses of wood, require different degrees of heat; hard
woods and thick logs of wood require a moderate degree
of heat, from 90° to 100° Fahr. The softer woods, such as
pine, may be safely exposed to 120°, or even to a still
higher temperature; and when cut extremely thin and
well clamped, 180° or 200° have been found rather to
harden the fibre and to increase its strength. Honduras
mahogany in boards of one inch in thickness may be exposed
with advantage as regards colour, beauty, and strength, to
a heat as great as 280° or 300° Fahr. A slab of Honduras
mahogany inch thick, cut fresh from the log, was wholly
deprived of its moisture, amounting to 36 per cent, by
exposure to the temperature of 300° for fifty consecutive
hours. In practice, however, it is found that from 115° to
120° of temperature brings almost every kind of timber in
slabs or boards of moderate thickness, safely and steadily
towards complete desiccation in a comparatively short space
of time. For boards up to 4 inches thick, one week is suf¬
ficient for every inch of thickness, thus one week for 1
inch thick, and four weeks for 4 inches thick, but beyond
this thickness the proportions require to be increased. For
6 inches thick, seven weeks should be allowed ; for 8 inches
ten weeks, and so on. These periods are fixed on the
supposition, that the rapid forced current of heated air will
be kept up only during the day of twelve hours, and that
the chamber will then be closed till the following morning,
that being the customary mode of working.
English oak requires more than ordinary care when thus
prepared. It should never be exposed under any circum¬
stances for any length of time to a higher temperature than
105°; more intense heat has been found to act upon the
Gallic acid, or on the fibres in some peculiar way, so as to
produce internal fissures. Mr Davison also stated, that
still heat like that of an oven had an effect upon wood
totally different from that produced by a current of heated
air. In the one case the fibre is rendered short, brittle,
and weak; in the other, all that is valueless is driven away,
and the albumen becomes solidified or coagulated into a
hard compact substance, and the fibres gain a great increase
of strength and rigidity. Seasoning under ordinary de¬
grees of temperature has a completely different effect on
, the albumen, which, if not previously dissolved or washed
out by any of the processes previously referred to, remains,
when dried, in a soft spongy state, ready to become an
absorbent of moisture.
It has been found by experience that 100 feet per
second is the best velocity for the current of heated air,
and with a proportionate area of inlet-pipe, a sufficient
quantity should be delivered into the chamber to cause a
complete displacement of the air and moisture in three
minutes. If a desiccating chamber contains 30,000 cubic
feet of air, 10,000 cubic feet ought therefore to be pro- Materials
pelled into it per minute, care being at the same time used in
taken that the area of the outlet or outlets for the escape of SMp-
the moisture exceed the area of the inlet-pipe, and that they Euilding-
be so arranged as to avoid a direct current between them.
The Board of Ordnance adopted this system for gun-
stocks in 1840. Previous to its introduction, about
400,000 stocks were undergoing regularly a course of sea¬
soning, each requiring to be turned once or twice every
year to avoid the ravages of worms or decay. In a report
from Mr Lovell, then her Majesty’s inspector of fire¬
arms, he states respecting some gun-stocks subjected to
the process :—“ One half of the number were quite fresh
cut and green wood, the other moisty, had been about
twelve months in store ; the total weight before the
process, 536 lb. 9 oz., and after sixteen days’ exposure
to a current of air heated to 110°, or 114° Fahr., that
weight was reduced to 413 lb. 14£ oz.; that is to say,
122 lb. 10^- oz. of moisture had been driven off. Some of
the stocks had been purposely selected with seen cracks in
the butts and other faults, for I expected that those cracks
and faults would be exaggerated by the heat of the cham¬
ber. But the result was not so ; on the contrary, they were
closed considerably behind the marks that had been
stamped upon the ends of them before they were put in,
and the whole number of stocks came out in good condi¬
tion, and fit for immediate use.” He proceeds to say,—
“ The wood is better seasoned than when dried in the open
air; \st, Because the albumen being dried on the pores and
in the capillary tubes, renders the fibre stronger and less
liable to absorb moisture; 2d, The wood is stronger,
tougher, and, of course, more capable of withstanding the
effects of violent vibration from the laternal adhesion of
the fibre being better preserved; 3c?, It works smoother
and more waxy under the chisel, and has less tendency to
sped and crumble away, which is generally the great fault
of steam-dried timber. I have now worked nearly 30,000
desiccated stocks, none of which had been under the pro¬
cess more than twenty-one days ; and my opinion is very
decided, that the wood is more thoroughly seasoned, and
with much greater certainty, than if it had been merely
exposed to the open air in the usual way for three or four
years. The desiccating chamber created in the royal
manufactory at Enfield continues in full activity. The
heat is kept down to a medium degree, between 90° and
100°; and at this temperature it delivers the stocks per¬
fectly seasoned in fourteen to sixteen days, according to the
quality of wood, whether of sap or heart; and I propose to
subject the whole of the stocks to it in future, whether
they have been air-dried previously or not, in order to
make sure that the whole shall have been equally seasoned.”
Some bearers of Riga pine and American elm, after they
had been in use for about six years, and exposed for that
length of time to a temperature of 115° or 120° of heat,
at which the chamber invariably stood, were examined, and
were found to be perfectly sound and in excellent condi¬
tion; thus proving that the process, even though continued
for so long a period, did not injure in the slightest degree
the fibre or the strength of the wood.
It is difficult to understand how the timber subjected to
this process can be rendered more capable of sustaining a
tensile strain, if this be the case, but it is natural that the
albumen, when hardened in the pores, should render it more
incompressible, and therefore more capable of resisting any
strain when the strength depends on this property. For
hard woods, to which Dr Boucherie’s process is not appli¬
cable, desiccation seems to be admirably adapted, Mr
Lovell’s experience with the walnut-tree gun-stocks appear¬
ing conclusive.
The following table is interesting, giving the results of
experiments made by Mr Davison :—
170
SHIP-BUILDING.
Materials
Materials Qenerai Resuits 0f Desiccation, showing the Percentage lost by four hinds of Timber of different dimensions, seasoned uged in'
used in , Desiccating Process ; the Number of Days in which the Seasoning was effected; and the Ratio oj 1 ime in ghip-
which equal degrees of Seasoning were produced, upon duplicate Specimens by the artificial and by the ordinary Building.
processes.    “
used in
Ship-
Building.
Dimen¬
sions.
1TD
{}
l 1
Mean
results
Inch.
2
3
4
5
6
Mean 1
results J
Sq. inch.
1
n
Mean 1
results J
Sq. inch.
* 2
3
4
5
6
Mean 1
results J
YEX.I.OW Pine.
Average
Percent¬
age lost.
Ave¬
rage No.
of Days
desic¬
cating.
20-76
18-
14-15
17-63
35-
23- 43
27-79
24- 1
21-9
26-44
17-19
19-35
18-27
37-19
25-6
13-27
28-57
22-48
26-2
Ratio of time
in which
equal degrees
of desiccation
were effected
hy the natu¬
ral and arti¬
ficial pro¬
cesses.
21
26
26
24-3
42
47
49
63
63
52-8
7
13
10
23
35
35
47
47
36 : 1
36 : 1
7-4 : 1
28 : 1
44 : 1
36 :1
6
4
20
8
7
9 :1
Mahogany.
Average
Percent¬
age lost.
Ave¬
rage No.
of Days
desic¬
cating.
25-8
24-0
24-9
21-2
19-69
18- 7
13-92
19- 24
18-55
13-97
15-94
14-95
17-56
8-64
17-81
17-61
16-93
15-7
Ratio of time
in which
equal degrees
of desiccation
were effected
by the natu¬
ral and arti¬
ficial pro¬
cesses.
26
37
31-5
37
44
47
47
51
45-2
7
14
10*
23
26
40
37
47
34-6
6 : 1
16 : 1
11 :1
15
71
20
20
20
29-4:1
71 : 1
71 : 1
Riga Pine.
Average
Percent¬
age lost.
Ave¬
rage No.
of Days
desic¬
cating.
14- 61
19-48
13-59
15- 69
17-2
16-11
71 :1
71 :1
71 :1
16 : 1
36 :1
36 : 1
46 : 1
13-46
10-92
24-38
1205
12-33
10- 94
11- 95
15-95
12-64
Ratio of time
in which
equal degrees
of desiccation
were effected
by the natu¬
ral and arti¬
ficial pro¬
cesses.
34-3
46- 66
47-
52-
49-
45-79
English Oak.
Average
Percent¬
age lost.
62 :
36
42
18
59
43-4 : 1
71 :1
71 :1
71 : 1
12-33
24-33
35-66
41-33
43-66
32-11
71
71
59
71
53
65 : 1
Ave¬
rage No.
ofDays
desic¬
cating.
32-36
28-43
28- 98
29- 69
26-51
29-19
22- 72 12
23- 36 21
Ratio of time
in which
equal degrees
of desiccation
were effected
by the natu¬
ral and arti¬
ficial pro¬
cesses.
47
58
58
58
58
55-8
23-04
29-38
24-26
19-36
22-95
16-13
22-57
16-5
37
42
40
74
86
55-8
20
36
20
36
36
29-6 :1
16 : 1
10 : 6
13 : 1
20 :1
10 : 1
16 : 1
20 :1
36 : 1
20-4 :1
Comparative Strength and Deflection of Desiccated Specimens and their Duplicates, denominated
Woolwich Specimens.
Description.
Desiccated specimens.
Woolwich ,,
Desiccated „
Woolwich „
Desiccated ,,
Woolwich „
Desiccated „
Woolwich „
Desiccated „
Woolwich ,,
Yellow Pine.
Dimen- jjr0k0 wjth
sions.
Sq. inch.
1
1
1*
1*
2
2
3
3
4
4
Deflec¬
tion.
lbs.
45*
40*
138
107
237
282
884
716
Were
not broken
inch.
6
11
6
4
4
3f
8|-
4*
7
?*
1*
Mahogany.
Dimen¬
sions.
Sq.inch
1
1
1*
1*
2
2
3
Broke
with
lbs.
70*
62*
185*
156
436
394
1514
1318
Deflec¬
tion.
inch.
9*
8|
6|
5*
5*
4|
54
Dimen¬
sions.
Sq. inch.
1
1
If
If
2
2
3
3
4
4
Riga Pine.
Broke with
lbs.
46
48*
100
127
345
363
996
793
Were
not broken
Deflec¬
tion.
inch.
8*
8f
4|
5f
4*
4*
3f
4*
English Oak.
Dimen¬
sions.
Sq.inch.
1
1
1*
1*
2
2
The weights were applied at one end of the piece, at a distance of 3 feet from the fulcrums.
Broke
with
lbs.
54*
47*
84*
128*
385
327
Deflec¬
tion.
inch.
9*
11*
4*
7
4*
4f
The slow progress made in the introduction of this pro¬
cess has doubtless arisen partly from a fear that so speedy
a method of drying or seasoning is likely to warp and rend
the timber. Though this result does ensue from exposing
it to draughts in covered sheds, yet as the evil in this case
arises from the partial action of the currents of air on the
log or piece of timber, it need not be feared where the
temperature and the current are equally diffused, as in the
desiccating chamber. The expense of the apparatus is,
however, a serious drawback to its introduction, except in
works where a very large quantity of timber is used.
The best season for felling timber has been a subject of Season of
. some discussion ; but the evidence that has been collected felling
seems to be in favour of that which is winter-felled. Its timber,
specific gravity is less than if summer-felled; and it is na¬
tural to suppose that the less amount of sap in the tree will
render it more readily and easily seasoned.
The relative value of the various woods must also de-
SHIP-BUILDING.
Ship-
Building.
timber.
Materials pend upon their strength as well as upon their durability,
used m The cohesive strength per square-inch, or power of resist¬
ing a tensile strain to tear the particles asunder, varies in
different species. Professor’ Barlow, in his work on the
v. strength and stress of timber, gives it as under for the fol-
° Cohesive strength
Species of Timber. per square inch
in lbs.
Ash  17,000
Teak  15,000
Fir  12,000
Beech  11,500
Oak  10,000
Pear  9,800
Mahogany  8,000
These being the breaking weights, it will not be safe in
practice to expose timber to more than about one-half of
them.
Professor Hodgkinson has investigated the powers of
different species of timber to resist a direct crushing force,
and the results which he obtained show that this power
varied greatly according to the state of seasoning. He
found that timber, when in a wet and unseasoned state,
could be crushed by a force less than one-half of that which
would be required to crush it when properly seasoned, the
moisture acting as a lubricating medium to allow the
particles to slide upon each other more easily.
The following, however, may be taken as the crushing
weights of the different species named, in an ordinary state
as regards their degree of seasoning:—
Power to
resist a
crushing
force.
Specific Gravity
of
Specimen.
Species of Timber.
•560.
•540.
•580.,
•640..
•660..
•753..
•780..
•700..
•980..
Hesistance per
square inch
in lbs.
Yellow Pine 
Cedar 
Red deal 
Birch 
Sycamore 
Spanish mahogany..
Ash 
Dry English oak....
Box 
5375
5674
5748
6402
7082
8198
8683
9509
9771
No satisfactory rules have yet been promulgated to deter¬
mine the weights which may be placed with safety upon
wooden columns of different diameters and different lengths.
It is not unusual in practice to confine the load to 500 lb.
per square inch of section on a column of oak, and when
required to carry this load per sq. inch, the length is gene¬
rally limited to fifteen times the diameter. But, however
short the column may be, it should never be loaded to a
greater degree than one-third of the weights in the fore¬
going table, and the length should never exceed twenty, or
at the utmost twenty-five, times the diameter without a
great diminution of the load proposed above.
The strength of similar columns varies inversely as the
squares of their lengths. Thus, if the weight which a
column of oak of 5 inches diameter and 6 feet long will
support with safety be taken at 9800 lb., a column of oak
of 5 inches diameter, and 10 feet long, will support only
2450 lb., with an equal degree of safety, because by the
proportion mentioned above
102:52:: 9800:2450.
strenrthof • an”exe(^ table of data is given by Professor Barlow,
timber. m his work, for determining the weights which the different
woods enumerated will respectively carry, when exposed
to a transverse strain, and the rules which follow for its
practical application are also taken from the same autho¬
rity:—
Teak 2462
English Oak 1672
Canadian, ditto 1766
Dantzic, ditto 1457
Adriatic, ditto 1383
Ash 2026
Beech 1556
Elm  1013
Pitch Pine 1632
Red Pine 1341
New England Fir 1102
Riga Fir 1108
Mar Forest Fir 1262
Larch 1127
fo find the ultimate strength of any rectangular piece
of timber fixed at one end and loaded at the other:—
Rule.—Multiply the value given in the table of data by
the breadth and square of the depth, both in inches, and
divide the product by the length, also in inches ; the quo¬
tient will be the breaking weights in pounds.
Example 1.—What weights will a beam of English oak
sustain before it breaks, when the breadth is 8 inches, the
depth 12 inches, and the length 10 feet from the point of
support ?
The relative strength of English oak, as given in the
table, is 1672.
Then
1672 x 8 x 122
22q =16,051 lb., or 7'255 tons.
Example 2. What weight will a beam of larch sustain
before it breaks, when the breadth is 4 inches, the depth
6 inches, and the length 5 feet from the point of support ?
Answer—2704 lb. ^
1o find the ultimate transverse strength of any rectan¬
gular beam, when supported at both ends and loaded in
the centre:—
Rule.—Multiply the value given in the table of data by
four times the breadth and square of the depth in inches,
and divide that product by the length, also in inches, for
the weight.
Example 1. What weight will be necessary to break a
beam of teak, the breadth being 10 inches, the depth 14
inches, supported at each end, and the distance between the
faces of the supports being 20 feet, the beam being loaded in
the middle ?
For teak, the value given in the table is 2462.
rpi 2462 x 4 x 10 x 142
^*len 240 =80,425 lb., or 35'904 tons.
Example 2. What weight will a beam of English oak
carry before it breaks, the breadth being 8, the depth 12
inches; the beam being loaded in the middle, and sup¬
ported at each end, and the distance between the faces of
the supports being 15 feet ? Answer—42,803 lb., or 19T53
tons.
If the dimensions of a beam be required so as to support
a given weight, the following rule must be used:—
Rule.—Multiply the weight in pounds by the length in
inches ; and this product, divided by the tabular value, will
give the product of four times the breadth and square of
the depth; then the breadth being known, we can find
the depth ; or the depth being known, we can find the
breadth.
Example 1.—What must be the dimensions of a beam
of English oak to carry a weight of 5 tons in the middle,
where the distance between the supports is 20 feet ?
The tabular value for English oak is 1672, — X ^^9
8 ’ 1672
= 1607, which is the square of the depth multiplied by
four times the breadth.
Let the breadth be 6 inches ; then 6 x 4=24, or four
times the breadth.
Then^p= 66.96 = the square of the depth,
and V66:96 = 8’I8 inches, or 8|th inches nearly.
Or, if we take the depth at 8 inches, then
82=64 and — = 25*1,
64 *
171
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
172
Materials
used in
Ship-
Buildiug.
SHIP-BUILDING.
and ^1 = 6-27, or a little more than 6Jth inches = the
4
breadth.
Example 2.—What must be the dimensions ot a beam
of red pine to carry a weight of 15 tons in the middle) when
the distance between the supports is 30 feet? Answer 10
inches in breadth by 15 inches deep neatly.
If a beam be supported at both ends, and the load be
equally distributed over its length, it will carry twice the
weight; that is, the result obtained by the foregoing rule
must be doubled.
If the beam be firmly fixed at both ends, so as to prevent
the ends from rising, when the weight is applied in the
middle, the result will be increased by its half; that is, a
weight of 10 tons may be increased to 15 tons.
If the beam be fixed at both ends and loaded uniformly
throughout its length, the result must be multiplied by 3 ;
that is, a beam which will carry 10 tons in the middle when
it is laid loosely upon its supports, will carry 30 tons when
fixed at both ends, and the load distributed uniformly over
its length.
It must always be remembered, in applying these rules
to practice, that the weights found by them are the break¬
ing weights. The proportion of the breaking weight with
which it is considered safe to load a beam in actual use
varies according to the nature of the material. In the case
of cast-iron, which breaks without giving any warning, it
is not considered safe to place more than one-third of the
breaking weight upon it. In wrought iron and timber,
which both show symptoms of being overstrained before
they break, by becoming crippled, or by an amount of
flexure so great as to be very observable to the eye, the
load in practice may be one-half of the breaking weight, as
found by the rules.
Experiments on the strength of materials are always
valuable to practical men, as adding to the store of know¬
ledge, and acting as a check on any rules which may be in
use. A series of experiments on timber were made by
Colonel Fowke, of the Royal Engineers, at Paris, during
the universal exhibition held there in 1855, and the results
were published at great length in the report upon that
exhibition.
Mr Fincham made some experiments, with great care,
on the transverse strength of timber, and the following
table, showing the results, is extracted from his work on
ship-building:—
A Table of a Series of Experiments on the Strength of the
undermentioned species of Timber. In each case the
piece was three inches square and four feet long between
the supports, and the weights ivere placed in the middle
Species of Timber and No. of Experiments.
English oak, the mean of 8 experiments 
Italian oak, the mean of 4 experiments 
Dantzic oak, the mean of 4 experiments 
African oak, the mean of 4 experiments 
Malabar teak, the mean of 4 experiments...
Monlmein teak, the mean of 4 experiments...
Riga fir, the mean of 4 experiments 
Dantzic fir, the mean of 4 experiments 
Italian larch, the mean of 4 experiments...
Scotch larch, the mean of 4 experiments....
Hackmatack larch, the mean of 4 experi- 1
ments J
Cowdie, the mean of 4 experiments 
Bermuda cedar 
Cuba cedar, the mean of 4 experiments 
Van Dieman’s Land cedar 
Mahogany, the mean of 4 experiments 
New South Wales mahogany, the mean |
of 4 experiments J
Specific
Gravity.
Weight at
which the
piece broke,
Cwts.
•791
LOTT
•704
1-021
•724
•909
■576
•708
•645
•561
•708
•614
•932
•524
•616
•636
1-382
32- 973
38- 792
39- 732
59-897
43-723
34- 292
35- 558
36- 718
40- 047
27-750
37- 886
33- 317
36-776
24-348
18-303
30-093
36-777
Rio-idity, or the opposite of elasticity, is the power of Materials
resisting deflection or bending, when a weight is placed upon
a beam,' or when a side pressure is brought to bear against Buil^
it. This power is increased in a much nioie rapid ratio
than the power to sustain loads without fracture; thus, in
order that a beam may bear 10 tons with the same degree 01
of deflection as one bearing 5 tons, much less increase of
dimensions will be required than will be necessary for a.
beam whose breaking weight is to be 10 tons, in compari¬
son with one whose breaking weight is 5 tons. The pos¬
session of rigidity in a lateral direction is necessary to every
beam to a certain extent, to prevent its bending side-wise
and becoming crippled, and hence beams must not be too
much reduced in their breadth relatively to their depth.
In practice, the proportions of 2 for the breadth to 3 for
the depth, and also of 3 for the breadth to 5 for the depth,
are very common ; but in joists of floors, and in other situ¬
ations, where side props, or supports to prevent flexure, can
be introduced, the depth is often made in a greater propor¬
tion, with the advantage of a saving of material, to carry the
same weight.
The supply of timber for ship-building purposes is a sub- Supply of
ject that has at various periods attracted much attention, timber,
both as regards the species grown in this country and those
which are imported from abroad.
Some valuable remarks on foreign woods were lately made
by Mr Leonard Wray, in a paper read before the Society
of Arts, and published in their journal of 6th May 1859.
He called attention to the fact, that before forests of the
finest timber can be brought into beneficial use, a popula¬
tion is required to fell and trim the trees, as well as a good
shipping port, and the cheapest possible means of bringing
the timber from its native forests to the port of shipment.
Honduras has long had its organised bands of wood¬
cutters, and has long been one of the most important timber¬
exporting countries. It now exports about 25,000 tons of
mahogany and 6000 tons of logwood annually, and the
woodsmen in pursuit of these two staple products continu¬
ally pass and repass other species of the finest quality of
timber in the world. Amongst many other fine trees found
there, Mr Wray specially enumerated the following :—The
green heart, the live oak (Bignonia), and other oaks; the
mahoc, the bullet-tree, the Neesberry bullet-tree, the iron-
wood, the locust, used for ships’ planking and treenails;
the dogwood, the red pine, the pitch pine (much superior
to that of Carolina and the other southern states of America),
the cedar (Cedrela odorata), a light and durable wood,
not liable to dry-rot, nor subject to the attack of insects,
and of which the trunk is 70 or 80 feet long, with a diame¬
ter of from 4 to 7 feet.
The morra is described by Mr Wray as a most valuable
timber, the trees often attaining a height of from 100 to
150 feet, the lowest branches being 60 feet from the ground.
The wood is extremely tough, close, and cross-grained, so
that it is difficult to split, and not liable to splinter, which
renders it particularly adapted for ship-building, more espe¬
cially in the royal navy. The trunk makes admirable keels,
timbers, and beams; and the branches having a natural
crookedness of growth, are unsurpassed as knees.
Sir R. Schomburgk, referring to this tree, states that it
grows abundantly in Guiana, on the banks of the river
Berima, which is navigable for vessels drawing 12 feet of
water, so that they might load close to the spot where the
trees are cut down.
Mr Wray also mentions many other fine timber trees as
the growth of Guiana, and Assam, Tenassarim, and the
•provinces and settlements in the neighbourhood of the
Straits of Malacca. He states that a quantity of teak has
for many years been exported from Moulmein, and other
parts along the coast, but that the field which this healthy
and most pleasant country still presents is so inexhaustible
SHIP-BUILDING.
Materials that he considers it to stand unrivalled as a timber-pro-
used in ducing country. Hitherto teak alone has been exported,
Ship- but there are others which are considered quite equal, and
,U1 y even superior to it. He gives the following list of some of
the best timber woods, which will serve to give an idea of
the capabilities of these neglected provinces:—
Anan.—One of the hardest and most compact woods known.
Ahnaun.—Strong and very durable ; used in ship-building.
Keoun-lac (Rottlera).—Excellent for rudders.
.Ka«-w/at-«a (Cedrela).—Large timber, 40 to 70 feet long; used
for ship-building.
Ka-nyeng-kyaung-khyay.-—~Fov ship-builders; contains an aro¬
matic oil, and is not attacked by insects.
Kyess-yo.—Similar to teak.
Kud-doot-alaiu.—A large tree ; used in ship-building.
Kunnazoo.—A very large tree; very hard and durable timber.
May-Mayka.—Used in ship-building.
May-raug.—Said to be very durable.
May-tobek.—Used for the bottoms of ships, considered preferable
to teak.
Mayam.—An indestructible, strong, heavy, dark-red wood.
Podauk.—A beautiful, compact, and hard wood, sometimes called
rosewood.
Pengadoh.—Strong and durable.
Pien-mahne.—Yields very strong knee-timber.
Pyau-ga-deau.—Hard, dense, and durable; called iron-wood.
Soondra.—A very tough, elastic wood; said to be the strongest
of all the Indian woods.
Thdb-bau.—Fine solid timber, sometimes 70 feet long; used for
boats.
Thau-kya.—A species of wood similar to Saul.
Tha-nat.—A kind of grey teak.
Tha-nat.—More resembling Saul.
Thau-That.—A capital wood, like Saul.
Theet-ya-hau.—A species of teak ; close grained.
Theug-gau (Hopea odorata).—An enormous tree of the Saul tribe;
yields a strong, compact, and excellent timber, considered superior
to teak; also a quantity of good dammer or resin. Insects never
attack this wood, nor is it liable to rot.
Tirbbac (Quercus Amherstiana).—An oak; large tree; used in
boat-building.
Thounsauga.—A large tree; used in boat-building.
Thingau kyauss.—Close grained, strong, heavy wood; used in
ship-building.
Thubbae (Mimusops).—Used in ship-building.
Thubbor (Uvaria),—A large tree; used in boat-building.
Toung-byeng.—A kind of red Saul.
Thym-bro.—A good, strong, durable wood; used in boat-building.
Of the Malacca woods Mr Wray gives a long list, and of
these he describes the following from his own experience
while resident in the straits:—
Murbouw.—Yery strong, hard, and heavy; used in shipping;
not attacked by insects ; will last 100 years.
Binlaugoor.—Valuable wood for ship-building, especially for
planks, mast, spars, &c. It grows in great abundance, especially
near Singapore, and is largely exported to Mauritius, California, &e.
Vamerlaut.—Hard, tough, and very durable.
Qiham.—A pale yellow wood, close grained, hard, elastic, very
durable, and generally used in boat-building.
du^a«W.-Used for house-building; hard, and exceedingly
Tamboom.—House beams; considered very durable.
Galam 1 ——, , ...
Tikoos J —liard> tough; elastic; used in boats.
Marautee.—Very large; light resinous wood, much used for
planking, and in building boats.
Australia is the next country to which he directed at¬
tention; and though distant, it may yet become an im¬
portant Umber-exporting country, the timber being brought
nere as a home freight in return for our large exports,
the trees of this country which are mentioned are the
t^e.tuartJ ^e jarrah blue-gum, and morrell.
i he tuart is especially mentioned as adapted for ship-
Duiiding, as it is most difficult to split, and not liable to
splinter.
'Ihe jarrah, whose stems average 65 feet long, nearly
parallel, and without a branch or knot, is also a most im-
173
portant tree of this colony. It is not attacked by insects of Materials
any kind, nor has it any tendency to dry-rot. used in
There are forests of this wood, almost unmixed with Ship-
other trees, in Western Australia, of more than 4 miles in Buiiding-
depth, and which are known to extend for a length of 150
miles. Planks may be obtained from it 10 feet wide if
desired. It is not only valuable as a ship-building timber,
but also for furniture, being found of various shades of
colour, and of almost every variety of grain.
A ship may therefore be loaded very advantageously with
this timber after proper sawing-machinery has been erected
in the country, as it may be converted into scantling and
ot lei pieces for furniture, which may be stowed along with
the balk timber of any size that may be desired.
Some veiy fine specimens of pine have likewise been im¬
pel ted lately from Vancouver’s Island, of immense size,
of great strength, and very durable.
Specimens of foreign woods may be found in the collec¬
tions at Kew; at the Kensington Museum; East India
House; Somerset House, Admiralty branch; and at the
Crystal Palace.
Since the publication of this paper, containing so much
valuable information, and so liberally contributed by Mr
Wray ito the Transactions of the Society of Arts, and
fiom which the foregoing extracts have been so copiously
taken, contracts have been made by the government for
gieen-heait Tuart and Jarrah timber. It is to be hoped
that this is a prelude to timber from our own colonies
being hereafter used in the royal dockyards in larger
quantities.
The importance of ship-building timber for the merchant
service is undoubtedly decreasing, on account of the in¬
creasing use of iron ; and it therefore behoves the govern¬
ment to make its own arrangements to originate and foster
this trade in those districts pointed out by Mr Wray.
Though insignificant in comparison with these magnifi¬
cent trees of foreign growth, the increasing quantity of
larch now grown in this country deserves attention.
The larch (Pinus Larix) now so much grown in Eng¬
land as well as in Scotland, is frequently called Scotch fir,
thus being mistaken for the “ Scotch fir” as so called in
Scotland {Pinus sylvestris), which has a dark-coloured
foliage. The latter is considered superior for the purposes
of architecture, but larch is better adapted for ship-building
purposes whenever its size is sufficient. Like most other
woods, it varies extremely, according to the soil on which
it is grown, and care must therefore be taken in its selec¬
tion and use. It stands exposure to wet and dry better than
most timber, and is hence much used for pit-props in coal
mines. The late Duke of Atholl induced the government
to build a vessel of larch from his forest. She was called
the Atholl; and though her durability has been very great,
no further attention appears to have been as yet paid to
the subject by the authorities.
A knowledge of the weight of the different species of Weight of
timber is necessary to the naval architect, to enable him to timber,
compute or estimate the weight of the hull of the vessel
which he is designing or constructing. Mr Edye, the
late assistant-surveyor of Somerset House, published an
elaborate work containing tables of the weights and the
displacements of the different classes of men-of-war of his
day, but now rendered comparatively valueless by the in¬
troduction of steam-vessels and the great changes in the
proportion of ships. The following table, containing the
weight of a cubic foot of timber in a green and seasoned
state, is extracted from this work; and if the weights of
the different timbers be compared with their strengths as
previously given, it will be seen that the heavier timbers
may be used without increasing the weight of the vessel,
as their scantling may be reduced, and the same strength
be retained, and with advantage, also, as to durability;—
174
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
Materials
in com¬
bination
with tim¬
ber.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Name of Timbers.
English oak  
Dantzic oak 
African teak  
Indian teak, green or sea- j
soned, about the same... /
Malabar* 
Rangoon* 
Indian mast peon  
Cedar 
Larch 
Riga fir 
New England fir 
Elm   
Beech  
Ash 
Green.
lb. oz.
71 10
49 14
63 12
48 3
32 0
45 0
48 12
44 12
66 8
60 0
58 3
Seasoned.
lb. oz.
43 8
36 0
60 10
52 15
26 4
36
28
34
35
30 11
37 5
53
50
* Malabar teak is the heaviest, and Rangoon the lightest
of all the Indian teaks imported.
Special care is required in the selection of materials to
be used in combination with timber, in order that no che¬
mical or other action, which may tend to premature decay,
may take place between them and the timber. Great care
is required in the use of iron for fastenings on account of
the great affinity which exists between this metal and
oxygen. The oxidation of the iron not only destroys the
fastening itself, but has an injurious effect upon the timber
surrounding it. If the nature of the wood be such that a
supply of oxygen from the atmosphere can be kept up
through its pores, the oxidation and destruction of the iron
will be very rapid. The use of iron in combination with
oak is particularly objectionable on account of the acid na¬
ture of this wood, and the quantity of oxygen which it con¬
tains. In oily and resinous woods the surface of the bolt,
when driven, receives a coating of this matter, and is thus
rendered less liable to oxidation. Such woods are also
more impervious to the passage of a continued supply of
oxygen. Iron fastenings, under copper sheathing, are also
liable to be destroyed by the galvanic action which takes
place between these metals. Many attempts have been
made to prevent this action by driving the bolt so far into
the wood that a cement of some kind could be put over the
head of it, so as to break the connection between the metals,
but no important results of any system of this kind are as
yet known to have obtained.
Copper is therefore used largely for the fastenings of
ships. This metal is liable to a very slight oxidation only
upon its surface, and when this has taken place, all fur¬
ther oxidation ceases, and the metal is not destroyed, as is
the case with iron. Copper, however, is not possessed of
the same strength as iron, and is soft and ductile in com¬
parison with it. It is therefore far from being so good a
fastening, especially when driven through iron-knees and
iron-riders. It is liable to be bent and crushed, or crippled
at the neck, by the iron through which it has passed, if the
ship be severely strained and work in any degree.
Some valuable experiments were made on the tensile
strength of bolts of dockyard copper, Grenfell s copper, a.nd
Muntz’s yellow metal, by Mr Jn. Kingston, of Woolwich
dockyard.
The results are shown in the following table :
Tensile strength per
Description of bolt. square inch.
Dockyard copper, average of 12 ex-1 49,490 lb., or 23 tons
periments j very nearly.
Grenfell’s copper, average of 11 ex- i 46,592 lb., or 20f tons
periments J nearly.
Muntz’s yellow metal, average of 11 j 49,945 lb., or 22T tons
experiments J nearly.
Copper, from its ductile nature, is quite unfit to be used
for any purpose where a cross-strain has to be resisted.
A late invention, by which a coating of copper is put upon Materials
iron, in the same manner that iron-plates are coated with tin, 10
promises to be very valuable. Fastenings of this kind will Build?;
then combine all the good qualities of both metals, and will
tend materially to strengthen the general fabric of the ship.
Treenails of timber, equal in quality to that through
which they are to be driven, make excellent fastenings, but
their strength and their power of holding are not such that
they can be used to the entire exclusion of metal fastenings.
The materials used for the sheathing of ships to pro- Sheathing,
tect them from fouling, and from the attacks of the teredo
navalis, and other destructive worms, are chiefly copper
and Muntz’s metal. These metals are kept clean by the
sea-water acting slightly upon them as a solvent, or by
oxidation ; and a gradual waste is therefore taking place
continuously from their surface, thus preventing the adhe¬
rence of any animal or vegetable matter. With a view to
obviate this gradual wearing away, Sir H. Davy proposed
to induce a galvanic action upon the sheathing by attaching
protectors of iron on its surface. He succeeded to some
extent; but in proportion as the iron was eaten away and
the copper preserved, it became foul with sea-weed and
shell-fish, so that his proposal was abandoned.
Iron for Ship-building.
The use of iron having now become common in the con¬
struction of ships instead of timber, a thorough knowledge
of its properties is thus rendered necessary to the naval
architect." The properties of wrought or malleable iron, as
a material for the construction of the component parts of
ships, will first be considered in a general point of view.
The strength of rolled iron varies with its quality ; the Cohesive
results given will be those due to an average quality, such strength,
as ought to be used in ship-building. The cohesive strength
of bar-iron, or its power to resist a tensile strain, may be Bar-iron,
safely taken at 25 tons, or 56,000 lb. per square inch of
section. Messrs Robert Napier and Sons of Glasgow have
made some valuable experiments on the cohesive strength
of wrought-iron, and steel bars and plates, which have been
published in the Transactions of the Institution of En¬
gineers in Scotland, vol. ii., 1859, and the results, along
with others, by Mr Fairbairn of Manchester, on iron-plates,
are given here by their kind permission.
Table of the average Strength of Steel-bars, as found by
Messrs Napier and Sons.
c, , . „ Strength per sq.
Steel-Dars. inch of section.
Cast-steel for rivets 106,950 lb.
Homogeneous metal for rivets  90,647 „
Puddled steel-forged bars  71,486 „
„ „ rolled bars  70,166 „
The average cohesive strength of rolled bars of York¬
shire iron was found by Messrs Napier to be 61,505 lb. per
square-inch, this being the mean of twenty experiments on
bars varying from -J|th inch diameter, up to 1 inch square.
And the average strength of bars manufactured by nine
different makers in different parts of the country, and pur¬
chased promiscuously in the market, was 59,276 lb.; this
being the mean of 110 experiments on bars varying from
•J£th up to l^th inch diameter, and it is most satisfactory
to find that the experiments showed a remarkable unifor¬
mity of results.
Mr Fairbairn of Manchester directed his attention, at a BxP®"'n
very early date, to the subject of iron for ship-building,
commencing his operations by the construction of various Mr pair,
small vessels for canal navigation. In 1830 and 1831 he built bairn,
three iron steam-vessels for the Forth and Clyde Canal Com¬
pany, and to be employed as coasting traders to Grange¬
mouth. These vessels made the voyage from Liverpool to
Glasgow, and showed such symptoms of strength as to in¬
duce Mr Fairbairn to enter more largely into the business.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Materials Within the next four years he constructed a vessel for the
used in Lake of Zurich, and two river-steamers of about 170 tons
Ship- for the navigation of the Humber; and in 1836 he com-
Building^ mence(j tLe building of iron-ships atMillwall,on the Thames,
in company with others. With a view to the introduction
of correct principles into what was then a new line of manu¬
facture, he made some valuable experiments at Manchester
in 1838, to test the strength of iron-plates and of riveted
joints. The results were communicated to the Philosophi¬
cal Society of that town, and have since been republished
by him.1 The results which he obtained were as follow:—
ohesive
rength of
lates.
essrs Na-
er’e ex-
riments.
Species of Iron.
Yorkshire plates.
Mean.
Derbyshire plates...
Shropshire plates....
Staffordshire plates,
Mean  21,350
Mean break¬
ing Weight
in the
Direction of
the Fibre,
in tons per
sq. inch.
25770
22760
24-205
21-680
22-826
19-563
Mean break¬
ing Weight
across the
Fibre, in
tons per
sq. inch.
27-490
26-037
26-763
18-650
22-000
21-010
20-553
The plates experimented upon were as nearly £ inch
thick as could be obtained; due allowance being made, in
calculating the results, for any excess or deficiency in thick¬
ness in the different specimens.
The section through AB was 2 inches wide. The plate
having been made narrower there to ensure its breaking at
that part. Plates were riveted on each side of the ends to
stiffen them. The holes O (fig-14) were bored through the
Fig. 13.
Fig. 14.
ends at right angles to the plates, with their centres in a
direct line along the centre line of the part AB; and the
apparatus for tearing the plates asunder was attached by
bolts passing through these holes.
Iron-plates are supposed to be fibrous lengthwise, or in
the direction in which they are rolled; but their cohesive
strength ought to be nearly equal, whether the strain be ap¬
plied with the fibres or across it. This uniformity of strength
is attained by the shingles, or piles from which the plates
are rolled, being composed of layers of bars carefully
selected and laid at right angles to each other. When
plates are very inferior in this respect, they may be sup¬
posed to have been manufactured from masses or blooms
made up of irons and ores of different qualities, and these
not sufficiently worked to amalgamate them properly. In
testing iron-plates, it is therefore important to test their
strength in both directions.
The very extensive series of experiments on the strength
of iron-plates by Messrs Napier have fully corroborated
the results previously obtained by Mr Fairbairn. The
strengths per square inch of sections were as follow :—
175
Yorkshire Plates.
Lengthwise 55.433 lb.
Crosswise 50,462 „
Mean strength 52,947 „
This result being obtained from 45 experiments upon plates
varying in thickness from ^ inch up to f inch.
Ordinary best, and best best boiler-plates, as manufac¬
tured by ten different makers in different parts of the
country, and purchased promiscuously in the market—
Lengthwise 50,242 lb.
Crosswise 45,986 „
Mean strength 48,114 „
This result being obtained from ninety-three experiments upon
plates varying in thickness from J-inch up to |-inch.
Glasgow Ship Plates.
Lengthwise 47,773 lb.
Crosswise 44,355 „
Mean strength 46,064 „
This result being obtained from twelve experiments on plates,
varying in thickness from -ft-inch up to J-inch.
Messrs Napier made some experiments upon steel-plates
also, with a view to test their value for the construction of
light boats for river navigation, or for any portion of iron-
ships generally. The results were as follow:—
The Mersey Company's Steel-plates, for Ships.
Per sq. in.
t . of section.
Lengthwise 101,450 lb.
Crosswise  84 968
Mean strength    93,209 ”
Steel-plates for Ships—Puddled Steel—“ Mild ”—by
the same makers.
Lengthwise 71,532 lb. per sq. in.
Crosswise not recorded.
Blochairn Boiler-plates—Puddled Steel.
Per sq. in.
T , . of section.;
Lengthwise   96,320 lb.
Crosswise 73,699 „
Mean strength 85,010 „
Homogeneous Metal.
Per sq. in.
of section.
Lengthwise 96,280 lb.
Crosswise ...97,150 „
Mean strength 96,715 „
Same Metal—Second Quality.
Per sq. in.
of section.
Lengthwise 72,408 lb.
Crosswise   73,580 „
Mean strength 72,994 „
The portions of the plates tested by Messrs Napier and
Sons were made of a similar form to those tested by Mr
Fairbairn. As the result of these experiments, it may fairly
be assumed, that iron-plates of good average quality should
stand a strain of 56,000 lb., or 21 tons, as their breaking
weight per square inch of section.
The results from the Yorkshire plates have been kept
separate, because their quality and their price are such as
to preclude their general use in ship-building. In boiler¬
making they are only used for furnaces, and those parts
which require especial care.
The strength of rivets and of riveted joints, to connect
plates in various ways, was also made the subject of expe¬
riment by Mr Fairbairn in 1838; and as no subsequent
experiments appear to have thrown any further light upon
the subject in its bearing upon ship-building, the results
obtained at that time will be given.
The experiments were conducted in the same manner
as those to test the strength of plates.
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
1 Useful Information for Engineers, London, Longman & Co., 1856.
176
SHIP-BUILDING.
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
In lap-joints with a single line of rivets, the edges are
made to lap over each other, thus—
Fig. 15.
When the strain is applied to a joint of this kind, the
edges of the plates turn up, and the plates themselves bend
till they take the direct line of the strain, as indicated by
the dotted line, a b.
Plates may also be united by bringing their edges to¬
gether to make a flush or butt-joint, putting an extra piece
of plate behind the joint to which both plates are riveted
by single lines of rivets, thus—
Fig.17.
This joint also gives way by the plates bending and
taking the line of strain; and no material difference of
strength was found between this and the preceding joint.
Tredgold has shown that when the line of strain is not
in the axis or centre of the material, the strength decreases
with the divergence in a much more rapid ratio than the
direct distance of the divergence. It is therefore evident
that this evil is greatest in thick plates, and that the strength
of thick plates will not be proportioned to that of thin
plates, though the sections of each through the rivet-holes
may bear the same relative proportion to the sections through
the solid plates.1
Double-riveted lap-joints are those in which a second
line of rivets is introduced. The edges are overlapped as
in single riveting, but to a greater breadth, thus
Fig. 18.
The line of rivets nearest the edge keeps it from rising.
In this joint the strength is much increased, but the
plates bend as before, and take the line of tension when a
direct tensile strain is brought upon them.
The edges may also be brought together flush, with a
broader piece of plate behind the joints, and a double line
of rivets, thus—
Fig. 19.
In this joint, also, the plates bend before they give way,
and the strength is similar to that of the preceding double-
riveted joint.
The relative strength of these joints, in comparison with
the strength of the body of the plate, was found to be as
follow:—
Strength of the plate 100 Materia]
Double-riveted joints    70 used in
Single do. do   56 Ship.
Countersinking the rivets, or making the heads flush on Building
the outside, was not found to make any appreciable diffe-
rence of strength.
The strongest mode of jointing plates is by bringing a
lapping piece of plate upon each side, and passing the
rivets on each side of the joint through the three thick¬
nesses. In the experiments of 1838 upon this joint, double¬
riveting only was tested; but in subsequent experiments
suggested by Mr Fairbairn, and carried out in the con¬
struction of the Menai tubular bridge, four lines of rivets
were used, thus—•
b
Fig. 20.
co oojoo oo
O O O 0:0 O O O
OOOOjOOOO
ooooioooo
Fig. 21.
In this joint a tensile strain is directly in the line of the
joint, and the material is therefore in the best position for
exerting its full strength.
This joint, however, is not applicable to the sheathing
of ships, on account of the necessity of keeping the exterior
surface flush and smooth. But no other joint should be
used in uniting plates in the construction of beams, or other
parts, in the interior of a ship.
A complete system of two thicknesses of plates, for the
whole surface of the plating, has been occasionally used, so
as to break joint where a large flat surface of great strength
has been desired, with a lapping piece on each joint, thus—
The evil, however, wdiich results from the line of the strain
not being in the centre line of the joint affects this system
of double plating, and the full strength attainable from the
material is not secured. The only advantage gained is,
that in the event of one plate being defective, a partial re¬
medy will thus be supplied by the second plate.
By the same series of experiments in 1838, the diameter
and distance apart of the rivets, and the proper amount of
lap for plates, up to f inch thick, w^ere very accurately as¬
certained, and the following table was formed:—
Table exhibiting the strongest forms and best -proportions
of Riveted Joints, as deduced from Experiments and
actual Practice.
Thickness
of Plates
in inches.
•19 = A
•25 = A
•31 — A
•38 = A
•50 = A
•63 = A
•75 = if
Diameter
of Rivets
in inches.
•38
•50
•63
•75
•81
•94
1-13
1-5
Length
of Rivets
from the
Head in
inches.
•88'
L13
1- 38
1 63
2- 25
2- 75
3- 25/
4-5
Distance
of Rivets
from
Centre to
Centre in
inches.
1-25 )
1-50 /
1-63 )
1- 75 j
2- 00
2- 50
3- 00
Quantity
of lap in
Single
Joints in
inches.
1-25
1- 50
1-88
2- 00 5-5
2-25 \
2- 75 i 4,5
3- 25 J
Quantity of
lap in Double-
Riveted
Joints in
inches.
For the
double-ri¬
veted joint
add f ds of
the depth of
the single
lap.
1 This subject has also been ably investigated in a pamphlet and report on W. Bertram’s patent welding process, by Mr Renton, C.E.
SHIP-BUILDING.
177
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
The figures 2, 1‘5, 4’5, 6, o, See., in the preceding table,^
are multipliers for the diameter, length, and distance of
rivets, also for the quantity of lap allowed for the single and
double joints. These multipliers may be considered as
proportionals of the thicknesses of plates to the diameter,
length, distance of rivets, Sic. For example, suppose we
take -| plates, and require the proportionate parts of the
strongest form of joint, it will be
•375 x 2 = '750 diameter of rivet, | inch.
•375 x = 1-688 length of rivets, inch.
•375 x 5 = 1-875 distance between rivets, If inches.
*375 x 5J = 2 063 quantity of lap, inches.
•375 x 8 = 3-438 quantity of lap, for double joints, 3| inch.
In practice plates and rivets of certain thicknesses and
diameters only are obtainable in the market, and for these
the table would stand thus :—
Thickness
of Plates
in inches.
Ttr
i
Diameter
of Rivets
in inches.
u
n
n
Length of
Rivets
from the
Heads in
inches.
n
u
2*
2f
31
Distance
of Rivets
from
Centre to
Centre in
inches.
n
H
if
2
2i
3
Quantity
of lap
in Single
Joint in
inches.
If
2,V
2f
2f
3f
Quantity
of lap in
Double-
Riveted
Joints in
inches.
2tV
2i
H
3b
3f
4yV
5A
lachine
iveting.
By using these proportions, it will be found that the rivets
will not be sheared in two by the plates when a strain is
brought on them, and that efficient joints will be made for
all vessels which require to be steam or water tight. When
this is not required, some additional strength may be ob¬
tained by enlarging the rivets and increasing the distance
between them.
In forming the hull of a ship, the riveting is at present
entirely performed by manual labour; but in the construc¬
tion of beams, or any such separate parts, considerable
advantage, both as regards strength and economy, will be
obtained by riveting them by machine. The rivet by the
latter process is more compressed, and thus made to fill
the hole; and the operation being completed while the
rivet is still hot, its shrinkage in cooling draws the plates
together. This adds to the strength of the joint by caus¬
ing friction, when a strain is applied to pull it asunder.
The extent, however, of the advantage so obtained is neces¬
sarily very variable, depending on the amount of compres¬
sion by the machine in forming the head of the rivet, and
on the temperature of the rivet when closed, Mr Fairbairn
does not attach much importance to it, and as it certainly
does not exist to any important extent in hand-riveted
work, it is safest to disregard it when any calculations of
strength are being made.
'hte^0f< ^le liabilify P^ate t0 yield by flexure depends upon
its thickness, and upon the amount of lateral support given
to it, compared with the area of its surface. To give to
different plates an equal capability to resist flexure, the
, unsupported lengths should vary as the thickness.1
trentTh^f tl'ansverse strength of iron equally requires the
ron>° 1 0 attention of the iron ship-builder. It is necessary to bear
constantly in mind, that in supporting a load, or resisting a
transverse strain, the upper portion of a beam, which is
supported at both ends, is subjected to compression, while
the lower portion is in a state of tension. The line be¬
tween the particles exposed to these opposite forces is
called the neutral axis; but its position and direction,
whether straight or curved, has not yet been definitely or
mathematically determined. If the material of which a
beam is composed be better able to resist compression
than extension, it is evident that there may be less material
in the upper than in the lower portion of the beam. The
power to resist fracture is therefore looked upon as mainly
concentrated in these portions; and while the duty of the
centre portion, called the plate or the web of the beam,
has not yet been brought clearly under the rigid laws of
mathematics, its chief duty may be said to be to keep the top
and bottom flanches separate from each other, and in their
relative positions.
I he power of iron to resist compression is generally
taken at 31J tons, or 70,000 lb. per square inch.
It is one of the advantages of iron over wood that it can
be made of any form, and that we can thus bring the
foregoing principles, in as far as we are acquainted with
them, into action.
The accompanying sections may be taken as represent¬
ing the sections of the beams in general use at the present
day.
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
Power to
resist com¬
pression.
Fig. 23.
Fig. 24.
1
Fig,25.
mm
Fig. 26.
Fig. 27.
1 See Proceedings C. E. Inst., vol. xv.; p. 176; and the subject will be found further investigated, vols, xi., xiv., and xvi.
VOL. XX. ’ ;
z
Advan¬
tageous
forms can
be given
to iron.
The proper proportions of iron-beams, and the conse¬
quent rules for their strengths, have been much discussed.
Box-girders were used for the paddle beams of vessels
built at Millwall by Messrs Fairbairn and Co. as early as
1840. They are stronger than any of the forms of plate-
beams given above ; and for long spans on board ship, plate-
beams should not be used on account of their want of
lateral stiffness, unless they are supported by trimmers or
fore and aft carlines.
* The ordinary rule for the strength of iron-beams, as given
by Mr Fairbairn, is applicable to all the foregoing forms,
the number 80 being used as the constant to represent the
strength of the box-beam, and 75 that of the plate-beam.
Let W represent the breaking weight in tons, a the
area of the bottom flanche, d the depth of the beam,
and l the length of the beam, C representing the con¬
stant as usual. Then the area of the bottom flanche
multiplied by the depth of the beam, and by 80 for a box-
beam, and 75 for a plate-beam, and the product divided
by the length of the beam (all these dimensions being
178
Materials
used in
Ship-
Building.
Power of
wrought-
iron to re
sist a
crushing
force.
SHIP-BUILDING.
taken in inches), will give the breaking-weight in tons—
TltT adc
or W = — •
It will be observed that the top flanche is not an element
in this formula. Its correctness, therefore, is dependent
upon the maintenance of certain relative and definite pro¬
portions in the parts, and it is not applicable to beams of
indefinite forms or proportions. For beams of the ordinary
length used in ships, the top and bottom flanches may be
made of equal sectional area, and the greater the length of
the beam the greater should be the comparative sectional
area given to the top flange, to prevent its buckling or
bending.
It has been argued that one-half the area of the centre
web or plate should be added to the sectional areas of the
top and bottom flanches, so as to include its strength as one
of the elements of the formula, and a new formula be then
deduced, but the rule, as given, is more simple, and may be
relied upon.
From the nature of the material it is considered that
wrought-iron beams may be loaded up to one-half of their
breaking weight, though with cast-iron this limit is not per¬
mitted to exceed one-third.
The following are given as examples of the rule:—
(1.) What is the breaking weight of a box-beam 60
feet long, between the supports 18 inches deep, and the
area of the section of the bottom flanche being 16 inches ?
W =
16 x 18x80
720
= 32 tons.
(2.) What is the breaking weight of a plate-beam 30
feet long, between the supports 10 inches deep, and the
area of the section of the bottom flanche being o inches ?
WT =
5 x 10 x 75
360
= 10’41 tons.
The crushing force which malleable iron is capable of
sustaining has "been stated to be 70,000 lb. per square
inch, but it could only sustain this great load when the
force applied is so truly in the axis of the material, and
when the specimen under pressure is so short that no de¬
flection is produced. Wrought-iron, however, is very liable
from its nature to give way by bending or buckling when
the length bears too great a proportion to the area of the
cross-section. This was previously mentioned when the
relative sections of the area of the top flanches of beams
which are exposed to a crushing force were recommended
to be increased.
It has been found by experiment that wrought-iron is
crippled, and its power of resistance destroyed by a weight
of 30,000 to 40,000 lb. per square inch, whenever the length
is such as to permit of its bending. Ihe load, therefore,
which it may be considered safe to put upon it in practice
may be assumed at 6000 to 8000 lb. per square inch for
columns of ordinary proportions. With this load the
length of the column should not exceed ten times its
diameter, and however short the column may be made,
the load should never exceed 10,000 lb. per square inch of
section.
The strength of similar columns of wrought-iron, as*
before stated to be the case with wooden columns, also
varies as the squares of their lengths inversely. In all
columns it is most important that the pressure should be
applied in the line of the axis of the material.
By Hodgkinson’s valuable experiments on the subject
of columns, it w7as found that the strength of a column
rounded at both ends, in comparison with one whose ends
wfere flat, was as one to three. This result no doubt
arose mainly from the strain not being correctly conveyed
and kept in the axis of the material. If the strain on a
column be in any degree greater on one side than on the
other, this side will be unduly compressed, while the other
side will be extended, and fracture or crippling will take Materials
place with a very small proportion of the load which the used in
column ought otherwise to have sustained.
Dr Young was the first to investigate this subject pro- v Ulld^g-
perly, and his work may still be consulted with advantage by ”
any one who is desirous of following up this inquiry. When
treating of the strength of riveted joints, the importance of
attending to the line of the strain, when the material was
exposed to a tensile force, was dwelt upon; and it is evi¬
dent, from what has now been said, that this is equally im¬
portant when it is exposed to a crushing force. In the
latter case, if the column be 'in the least degree curved,
the strain increases the deflection, whereas in the former
any curvature will be diminished, the tendency being to
pull the material into a straight line. Hence, it is of the
greatest importance to place columns directly under the
weight which they have to support, and by all means to
avoid unequal strains on the sides, whether the columns be
round or square. With wrought-iron it is also very evi-Strength oh
dent, that by using a hollow column much greater strength wrought-
is obtained from the same quantity of metal, great stiffness iron tube5-
being obtained by the increased dimensions. Hollow
wrought-iron tubes, such as those used by engineers in
boiler-making, may therefore be used with great advantage.
They may be rolled to almost any diameter and length
likely to be required in shipbuilding. No experiments
appear yet to have been made on the power of such tubes
to resist a direct crushing force, but the following experi¬
ments were lately made at Portsmouth Dockyard, by Mr
Lynn of that yard, to test their power of resistance when
used at an angle, as a pair of sheer-legs, to1 raise screw-
propellers on board ships. The tubes were ^ inch thick,
4 inches external diameter, and 12 feet long. They were
fitted with wrought-iron ends, the lower ends being pre¬
pared to rest on a step on the deck, and the upper ends
had a double and single eye to fit into each other, and re¬
ceive a pin for the shackle to carry the weight. The
length was thus increased, from step to eye, to 12 feet 5
inches. At 9 feet spread at the base, one of the tubes which
had been annealed in the fire for the purpose of straighten¬
ing it, as it was slightly curved when received from the
maker, deflected ^ inch when the weight reached 26
tons. On removal of the weight it returned fth inch,
leaving a permanent set of fth inch. At 7 feet spread
at the base, the same tube yielded when the weight reached
29J tons, the other tube remaining uninjured.
The durability of iron is entirely dependent upon the Durability I
state in which its surface is kept. Under ordinary circum-of iron
stances there is probably no better preservative than good
paint; but in the interior of iron-vessels it tends materially
to their preservation, if the surface be coated with asphalte,
or cement sufficiently thickly to cover the heads of the
rivets. In some cases it is even desirable, especially in the
sharp run of a ship fore and aft, in the position of the
dead-wood in a wooden vessel, to fill up the entire spaces
between the frames, and form a flush surface. The ex¬
terior also of an iron-vessel is easily maintained in good
condition by frequent painting. Below the water-line,
where the surface cannot be reached by heeling the ship to
a moderate degree, the iron is not apt to corrode. There
is no chemical action by sea-water upon malleable iron, and
there is not sufficient oxygen present below the surface
to induce oxidation. In every instance in which an iron-
vessel has been rapidly destroyed, it has been by corrosion
on the interior surface. Great injury has in some cases re¬
sulted from acids leaking from certain cargoes, such as sugar,
and also in parts where the leakage of brine from provision
casks has been allowed to lie upon the plates.
For gun-boats or vessels, which it may be desired to lay
up or preserve for any lengthened time, iron is peculiarly
adapted, as, under such circumstances, the whole of the
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical surfaces can always he attended to both externally and in-
Building. ternally.
Malleable-iron, when submerged in salt-water, rapidly
becomes foul by sea-weed and shell-fish adhering to its
surface ; but these do not cause decay; they may rather be
said to form a coating to protect the iron from decay of
any kind as long as it is submerged,
ron in The decay of iron externally on ships’ bottoms has, how-
ontact ever, been observed to take place in the neighbourhood of
dieted ^PP^'Pip68, This is caused by a galvanic action which
a takes place between the copper and the iron, tending to
the preservation of the former and the destruction of the
latter, on the same principle as that proposed to be brought
into action by the use of Sir Humphrey Davy’s protectors
for the preservation of copper sheathing. A layer of zinc
at the point of junction, to separate the copper from the
iron, will protect the iron, but as the zinc will then be
rapidly eaten away, care must be taken that it is not used
in such a manner that a leak would ensue in consequence,
reserva- The ready fouling of iron in sea-water is still a great
on from drawback to its use. Many applications for this purpose
u ing‘ have been proposed, but none seem yet to have been so
thoroughly successful as to require any special mention as
deserving of any decided preference.
reight of The weight of a cubic foot of WTOught-iron is 480 lb.
The weight of a square foot of plate ^th inch thick, is
therefore 10 lb., and this gives a ready and easily remem¬
bered standard for calculating the weight of any surfaces
of iron of different thicknesses.
PRACTICAL BUILDING.
There is, perhaps, no structure exposed to a greater
variety of strains than a ship, and none in which greater
risks of life and property are incurred.
;rains to A consideration of the disturbing forces in action, either
inch a t0 injure 0r destroy the several combinations embraced in
ible3 *ts structure> is therefore most important. And a thorough
knowledge of their action is necessary to a practical builder
to enable him to guard against them, in whatever form they
may present themselves, and to dispose and arrange the
materials at his command, accordingly, in the most judi¬
cious manner. Some of these forces are always in action
whether the ship be at rest or in motion. She may be
at rest floating in still water, or she may be cast on shore;
and when there she may be resting on her keel as a con¬
tinuous bearing, with a support from a portion of her side;
she may be supported in the middle only, with both ends for
a greater or less length of her body left wholly unsupported ;
or she may be resting on the ends with the middle unsup¬
ported : or under any other modification of these circum¬
stances, and under all these the strains will vary in their
direction and in their intensity.
If the ship be in motion, the same disturbing forces may
still be in action, with others in addition, which are pro¬
duced by, and belong only to, a state of motion. When a
ship is at rest in still water, it has been before explained,
that the upward pressure of the water upon its body is
equal to the total weight of the ship, but it does not neces-
sardy follow that the weight of every portion of the vessel
will be equal to the upward pressure of that portion of the
water directly beneath it, and acting upon it; on the con¬
trary, the shape of the body is such that their weights and
pressures are very unequal.
If the vessel be supposed to be divided into a number
ot lamina of equal thickness, and all perpendicular to the
vertical longitudinal section, it is evident that the after
anume comprised in the overhanging stern above water,
a me tore laminae comprised in the projecting head also
fm°Ve iCann°^ ke suPPor!e(I by any upward pressure
iiom the fluid, but their weight must be wholly sustained
by their connection with the supported parts of the ship. Practical
The laminae towards each extremity immediately contiguous Building,
to these can evidently derive only a very small portion of
their support from the water, whilst toward the middle of
the ship’s length a greater proportionate bulk is immersed,
and the upward pressure of the water is increased.
At some certain station from the middle of the length in
each body, fore and aft, the upward pressure will therefore
be equal to the weight of the superincumbent laminae, and
all the laminae composing that portion of the body between
these two stations will be subjected to an excess of pres¬
sure above their weight, tending to force them upward;
which upward pressure will be the greatest at the laminae
having the greatest transverse area of section. Now, as
the total pressure upward is equal to the total weight of the
vessel, this excess of upward pressure to which the midship
part of the body is subjected, must be equal to the excess
of weight over the upward pressure in the parts of the
vessel before and abaft those laminae at which the pressure
and weight have been supposed to be in equilibrio.
A ship, when at sea, is subjected to severer strains than
when floating at rest, and if cast on shore it may be sub¬
jected to still greater strains. Its strength, therefore, as a
fabric, should be considered with reference to the severest
trial of strength which may be required of it under any
circumstances.
A ship floating at rest under the view just taken of the
relative displacement of different portions of the body, if
the weights on board are not distributed so that the different
laminae may be supported by the upward pressure beneath
them as equally as possible, may be supposed to be in the
position of a beam supported at two points in its length at
some distance from the centre, and with an excess of weight
at each extremity.
At sea it would be exposed to the same strain; and if
supported on two waves, whose crests were so far apart that
they left the centre and ends comparatively unsupported,
the degree of this strain would be much increased. The
strain would be still more severe if the vessel got aground,
and rested on two isolated points situated in the supposed
positions in her length.
Under these circumstances, however, the strain would
depend upon whether the weights in the middle or in the
ends preponderated. The latter is the usual case ; and
then the whole of the upper portion of the vessel will be
subjected to a tensile strain from the tendency of the ends
to droop.
The more these two points of support approach each
other, or if they come so near each other that the vessel
may be looked upon as supported on one wave, or on one
point only in the middle of her length, the greater will be
the tensile strain on the upper portion, and the crushing
strain on the lower portion of the fabric of the ship.
The importance, therefore, of so forming the deck and
the upperworks that they may afford an efficient tie is
apparent; and it is to be feared that this has been too much
neglected, especially in many iron-ships.
If a vessel be weak in this respect, and touch the ground
in the middle of her length, the consequences will neces¬
sarily be most disastrous, as she will open at perhaps more
than one place, and her sides will tear down instantaneously
after the tie of the deck and upperworks is gone. These
results appear to accord with the accounts given of the
manner in which several iron-vessels have broken up on
their being cast ashore.
A vessel whose weights and displacements are so dis- Hogging
posed as to render her subject to a strain of this kind be- arcl1"
yond what the strength of her upperworks will enable her
to bear, will assume a curved form.
The centre is curved upwards by the excess of the pres¬
sure beneath it, and the ends drop, producing what is called
SHIP-BUILDING.
“ hop-ging.” The main remedy for these evils, as before
stated, is in the strength of the deck and upperworks, and
their power to resist a tensile strain. Iheie is seldom a
want of sufficient strength in the lower parts of the vessel
to resist the crushing or compressing force to which it is
subjected. The decks of vessels should not, therefore, he
too much cut up by broad hatchways; and caie should be
taken to preserve entire as many stiakes of the deck as
possible. The tensile strength of iron can be brought to
bear most beneficially in this respect, and some continuous
strakes of it laid upon the tops of the beams and below the
deck-plank would add materially to the strength of all ships.
Deck-planking has been sometimes laid diagonally at an
angle across a ship, but it will be evident, from these re¬
marks, that the value of the longitudinal tie is thereby much
lessened, and there is no sufficient corresponding benefit of
any other kind to justify the whole deck being laid in this
manner.
Great sheer, or rising of the deck, fore and aft, is ob¬
jectionable, from its lessening the strength of the longitu¬
dinal tie, though it is much practised, as it gives a lively
appearance to a ship, and hides the defects of hogging if it
should occur.
In the whole of the upper parts of a ship, as well as in
the deck, every means should be taken to increase the
power of resisting tension. In a wooden ship the upper
part of the frame should be chain-bolted wherever the con¬
tinuous range of bolts can be placed so as not to interfere
with the in and out fastenings; and the shifts of the different
wales, and other parts, which act as longitudinal ties, should
be carefully attended to. The waterway-planks and shelf-
pieces are also most important, and their continuity should
be maintained throughout the length of the vessel, with as
little diminution of strength as possible, at the junction of
the different lengths.
In iron-vessels the parts corresponding to these are par¬
ticularly important, as the plating exposes a very weak edge
at the top, and is liable to be torn down if this edge be not
well guarded and supported. To enable the lower part
of the ship to resist the compression to which it is subject,
the spaces between the frames in the best built wooden
vessels are filled in solid, so as to make, as far as possible,
an incompressible mass. The various abutments of this
part of the body should be as closely fayed or fitted as pos¬
sible. In iron-vessels, as the spaces between the frames
cannot be filled in solid, the keelsons should be of great
strength. The power of wrought-iron to resist compression,
when it is prevented from buckling, is here ot great value,
as the fastening of the keelson to every frame as it passes
gives stiffness and rigidity to it, and consequently great
power to resist compression.
Though these are the strains to which a ship is most
likely to be exposed, it by no means follows that there are
no circumstances under which strains of the directly oppo¬
site tendency by recoil, when pitching and tossing, or
otherwise, may be brought to act upon the parts. The
weights themselves in the centre of the ship may be so
great that they may have a tendency to give a hollow cur¬
vature to the form, and it is therefore equally necessary to
guard against this evil. When this occurs, the vessel is
technically said to be “ sagged,” in distinction to the con¬
trary or opposite change of form by being hogged. The
weight of machinery in a steam-vessel, or the weight or
undue setting up of the main-mast, will sometimes produce
sagging. The introduction of additional keelsons tended
. to lessen this evil, by giving great additional strength to
the bottom, enabling it to resist extension, to which, under
such circumstances, it became liable; and as the strain
upon the deck and upperworks becomes changed at the
same time, they are then called upon to resist compression.
In iron-vessels, the waterway-planks and shelf-pieces are
again, in this case, very important to aid in resisting this Practical
strain. The deck-planks may become shortened by the building,
deck assuming a curved form in the middle of the length V'-'
of the ship, the beams yielding and working with them;
and a crushing strain is then brought to bear up,on the
plating of the' topsides, which they are not calculated to
sustain. Some light flat-bottomed river-steamers of iron
with very full lines forward and aft, have given way from
this cause. The best practical lesson upon the subject,
and the most direct proof of the want of strength of iron-
vessels at the topsides, if constructed without additional
strengthening there, was given by the Nemesis when her
topsides opened, as so well described by Captain Hall in
his account of her voyage to India, and when he so judi¬
ciously strengthened her by attaching balks of timber longi¬
tudinally to the two sides.
A corresponding action to that described as hogging
takes place in relation to the breadth of the vessel, but
more particularly in the ease of men-of-war, on account of
the weight of the ordnance concentrated along the sides.
The central portion of the body is subjected to au undue
upward pressure, while the outer portions are strongly
acted upon by the weight there tending to depress and
immerse them. The effects of this action may be greatly
modified by the form of the vessel; longitudinally, it pro¬
duces the upward curvature previously referred to; and
transversely, it tends to separation of the sides, except in
three-decked or very lofty ships, in which, if the tumbling
home be very great, the tendency is to produce a separa¬
tion at the main breadth and below it, and a collapsing of
the sides above it.
Another force tending to alter the form of a vessel Horizontal
arises from the horizontal pressure of the water on the sides pressure of
of the vessel. The sides are compressed or forced together,the wateri
and the tendency produced is to add to the curvature of
the deck amidships, and increase the hogging both longi¬
tudinally and transversely.
When a ship is in motion, if the surface of the sea be Forces
very uneven, so that her passage will be over the waves, which af-
the supports become very variable, and the opposing fect a ^'P
forces of upward pressure and gravitation will have a ten-in “‘’k011,
dency to produce corresponding changes in the form of the
body; and if the motion of the ship be violent, and thus
produce any sudden shock or jerk, the strain upon the ma¬
terials and upon the fastenings will become immeasurably
increased.
When the ship is on a wind, the lee-side is subjected to Force of
a series of shocks from the waves, the violence of which the waves,
may be imagined from the effects they sometimes produce
in destroying the bulwarks, tearing away the channels,
&c. The lee-side is also subjected to an excess of hydro¬
static pressure over that upon the weather side, resulting
from the accumulation of the waves as they rise against
the obstruction offered by it to their free passage. These
forces tend in part to produce lateral curvature. When in
this inclined position, the forces which tend to produce
hogging when she is upright also contributes to produce
this lateral curvature. By experiments made on her Ma¬
jesty’s ship Genoa, in 1823, by Mr Moorsom, a member of
the late school of naval architecture, he ascertained that
this lateral curvature amounted to inch on each tack,
making an alteration of form to the extent of 3 inches
from being on one tack to being on the other.
The strain from the tension of the rigging on the wea- Tension o
ther side when the ship is much inclined is so great asth0riggiD
frequently to cause working in the topsides, and sometimes
even to break the timbers on which the channels are
placed. Additional strength ought therefore to be given
to the sides of the ship at this place; and in order to keep
them apart, the beams ought to be increased in strength in
comparison with the beams at any other part of the ship.
SHIP-BUILDING.
181
’rnrMcal It lias bern proposed to introduce tie-rods from the chan-
liuiliting- nels to the step of the mast, so as to render each mast and
its supports a combination of struts and ties with the
strains self-contained. This may be explained by the an¬
nexed figure.
Let AB represent the deck-beam, or beams of the ship at
Pig. 28.
the channels, CD the mast, and AC and CB the shrouds.
Now, if the ties AD and BD be introduced, it is evident
that any additional strain brought upon AC or CB will be
transferred to AD or BD, and resisted independently of
any strength in the sides of the ship, so long as AB the
beam, and CD the mast, are rigid and do not bend. By
this system, also, any excessive strain is prevented from
being brought upon the step of the mast at D, producing
sagging, by setting up the rigging unduly. Though the
ties AD and BD cannot conveniently be introduced in
ships in direct lines, as shown in the woodcuts, the princi¬
ple proposed may yet be brought into play by curved ties of
sufficient stiffness not to straighten under the tensile strain
to which they will be exposed.
General re- These are the principal disturbing forces to which the
marks on fabric of a ship is subjected; and it must be borne in
forces^1"5 mind tllat some of these are in almost constant activity
to destroy the connection between the several parts.
Whenever any motion or working is produced by their
operation between two parts, which ought to be united in
a fixed or firm manner, the evil will soon increase, because
the disruption of the close connection between these parts
admits an increased momentum in their action on each
other, and the destruction proceeds with an accelerated
progression. This is soon followed by the admission of
damp, and the unavoidable accumulation of dirt, and these
then generate fermentation and decay. To make a ship
strong, therefore, is at the same time to make her durable,
both in reference to the wear and tear of service and the
decay of materials. It is evident from the foregoing re¬
marks, that the disturbing influences which cause “ hogg- Practical
ing,” commence their action at the moment of launching Building,
the ship, and are thenceforward in constant operation. As 's—
this curvature can only take place by the compression of
the materials composing the lower parts ot the ship, and
the extension of those composing the upper parts as more
particularly explained when treating of the strength of
beams, the importance of preparing these separate parts
with an especial view to withstand the forces to which they
are each to be subjected cannot be overrated by the prac¬
tical builder. The side of a ship is, however, in a some¬
what different position from the plate or web of an ordi¬
nary plate-beam, or the sides of a box-beam, on account of
the horizontal pressure of the water against it; and because
in deep ships, with one or more intermediate decks, some
of the strain is brought upon it in the middle of its depth.
The position of the neutral axis or line between those par¬
ticles exposed to a crushing and those exposed to a tensile
strain, is therefore very difficult to determine ; but from a
consideration of the circumstances just mentioned, it must
be higher in a ship than theory would place it if the ship
w'ere considered in the light of an ordinary beam exposed
to strains brought upon it in the ordinary way.
The importance of the system of diagonal trussing and Diagonal
bracing in ship-building appears to have been first fully *russ1^®®
appreciated by Sir Robert Seppings, and the principle on
which it should be introduced to have been first explained strains.°
by him. It is obvious that if four pieces of timber be put
together, so as to form a square, or a rectangular parallelo¬
gram, with their ends connected by a round pin only at
each corner, they may assume the form of any other paral¬
lelogram whose sides are of the same length, but that in so
doing the length of the two diagonal lines will be altered;
thus—
In both of the annexed figures, the sides are of the same
length, but AC of fig.
29 is shortened into
a c in fig. 30, and BD
offig.29is lengthened
into Win fig. 30. The
introduction, there¬
fore, of diagonals of
a fixed or unalterable
length into any piece
of frame-work will
tend to prevent al¬
teration of form, and
it will be perceived
that the duty required
of the two diagonals in resisting any change is different,
the one being required to resist extension, and the other
to resist compression. One diagonal only is sometimes con¬
sidered sufficient, but in this case care must be taken
that the material of which it is composed, and the man¬
ner in which it is applied, be such that it may be fit to
resist either extension or compression, if the frame-work is
liable to be alternately strained in either direction. In any
piece of frame-work, however large, a straight wrought-iron
bar is excellent as a tie, but as a strut it would be nearly
useless on account of its liability to bend. Wrought-iron,
however, is the material chiefly used in diagonal bracing;
and it may be used with propriety for both diagonals,
wherever on account of liability to a strain in both direc¬
tions two are used, because each in its turn will resist ex¬
tension, and that diagonal which is exposed to compres¬
sion will be protected from injury by the resistance of the
other to extension. The sides of a ship may be supposed
to be divided into a number of pieces of frame-work of
imaginary outlines or dimensions. Those embraced in the
midship body may be supposed liable to be strained in
both directions; but the upper portions-of those composing
B
Fig. 30.
182 SHIP-BU
Practical the fore and after bodies will be inclined to fall forward
Building. an(j aft respectively; and if this tendency only is to be
V—v—^ guarded against, the ties must be placed in different direc¬
tions in the two bodies sloping up from below from amid¬
ships forward and aft in parallel lines, extension being
the force which they will be called upon to resist. The
system is not so much required in the bottom of a ship. In
the decks diagonal trussing, placed diagonally across a ship,
is advantageous as tending to prevent the ship working, by
one side advancing or receding alternately with the other,
and here the diagonals should be made to cross each other
and lie in both directions.
Diagonal trussing, as used by Sir Robert Seppings, was
introduced into some ships as a series of frame-work along
the centre of the ship, from pillar to pillar, from the keelson
to the decks, and he arranged these on the principle of
depending upon struts and not upon ties. Wrought-iron
was then much less used than in the present day, and tim¬
ber forms an excellent material for a strut, weight for
weight, in comparison with solid iron-bars, on account of
its dimensions giving it stiffness. Struts are also conve¬
nient because they require comparatively little attention to
the fastening of their ends. They abut against a surface,
or into a corner, and their ends are easily prevented from
shifting. With tie's this is very different; their ends must
be madq sufficiently secure to resist a strain equal to their
whole strength.
Before the introduction of this system, it was no uncom¬
mon thing to find ships hogged to the extent of from two
to three feet. An instance is quoted in Portsmouth dock¬
yard of an old ship, whose keel was curved upwards to the
extent of two feet or more, and which was grounded in dry-
dock on a set of blocks laid level. She straightened as she
settled upon them, and diagonal trussing being then intro¬
duced, it was found to support her in a remarkable degree,
when she was again floated. In this case the trussing was
applied chiefly in midships, from pillar to pillar, from the
keelson to the deck-beams.
In iron-ships diagonals are not so much required on the
sides of the ship, because the plating being a connected
surface of equal or nearly equal strength in all directions, it
is incapable of motion in its parts, and the line of any sup¬
posed diagonal is incapable of extension otherwise than by
a force sufficient to tear the plating asunder.
Compari- A general consideration of all the strains to which ships
^0.n°f iro'1 are subjected naturally leads to the question of selecting
en Vessels " ^le material which is best adapted to resist them. In
treating of the materials used in ship-building, especial
reference was had to the various qualities possessed by each,
which rendered them more or less valuable individually or
collectively. It may perhaps be expected, that before
leaving this part of the subject a more direct comparison
should be drawn than has yet been done between the rela¬
tive merits of wood and iron vessels, and that the points in
their structure, in which they chiefly differ in strength and
safety, should be pointed out. The advocates of either sys¬
tem will, no doubt, discover many errors and omissions in the
remarks on this subject, which have been made, or which
may now be made; but they are given as the results of
close observation and experience for a period of upwards of
twenty-five years of practical connection with both classes
of vessels. It may at the same time be stated with respect
to this treatise, that while the increase of steam-vessels, and
the great alterations in the forms of ships since the publi¬
cation of the previous edition of the Encyclopcedia Britan-
nica, had to be considered, much of the alteration from the
previous very able article on this subject, by the late Mr
Crueze, is caused by the necessity of now treating of iron-
ships equally with those of wood. An endeavour has been
made to introduce as much information respecting iron-
vessels, in addition to as full information respecting wooden
ILDING.
vessels, as the assigned limits would permit; and the sub- Practica
stance of the article by Mr Crueze has been retained in Building
many points, and free use lias been made of it wherever
desired, so as to form, as far as may be, a concise and con¬
secutive treatise.
If strength alone were to be assumed as the basis of com- Basis of
parison, without reference to weight or cost, it would pro- compari.
bably be conceded that a stronger vessel could be built ofson-
iron than it would be possible to construct by any combi¬
nation of wood. It will, however, be more practically use¬
ful to compare vessels of about equal weight, or equal cost
or strength.
An individual frame in an iron-vessel is formed with Frames.
more continuity of strength throughout its length, than
is the case in a wooden vessel, and greater opportunity is
given of obtaining strength, no matter what may be the
form of the body. By the variety of form into which iron
can be rolled by the manufacturer, opportunity is also given
to obtain the desired strength with less useless material.
In the sheathing, whether internal or external, much Sheathing
greater difference exists. In wooden vessels the planks
are laid side by side, and with few exceptions are not
fastened or connected with each other; indeed they are
forced asunder by the caulking required to make the joints
between them water-tight. Their only connection there¬
fore is by means of the fastenings which unite them to the
frames. The plating of an iron-vessel, on the contrary,
is made into one completely connected surface, and even
if all the frames were removed, it would remain in shape,
and would still form a vessel of great strength and stiffness.
The fastenings, also, to the frames will not bear compari¬
son, the power of iron to resist shearing across being so
much greater than that of treenails or copper-bolts.
The power of iron-plates to resist a force similar to that Resistancii
to which they would be subjected if an iron-vessel tookto buIg‘nr
the ground on a hard bottom, with some projecting points force ^
of rock or stones, w7as also experimented on by Mr Fair- iro11,
bairn. The plates were placed upon a frame, leaving a
space of 1 foot square, unsupported, and on the centre of
this a bar of iron, 3 inches diameter, with its end rounded,
was brought to bear. Plate ^ inch thick was burst with a
force of 16,779 lb., and a plate ^ inch thick, bore a strain
of 37,723. The plate of double the thickness, therefore,
bears more than double the pressure. The power of tim- by timber
ber to bear a similar strain was tested at the same time.
Oak planks, 3 inches thick, wrere burst with a force of
17,933 lb., or only a little more than was required to burst
the same surface of a plate ^ inch thick. Oak planks, of
1^ inch thick, were burst with 4406 lb. A plank of double
the thickness, therefore, bore much more than double the
pressure, the proportion being as the squares nearly.
Beams of iron are applicable to both classes of vessels, Beams,
and their superiority is now becoming so generally acknow¬
ledged, that they are being largely used in wooden vessels
in the merchant-service and in the French navy. It is, General
however, to the results of the combination of these mate- stl'eilSth-
rials as a whole that consideration must chiefly be given.
Unfortunately there are no want of instances of both species
of vessels going to pieces suddenly when cast on shore on
rocks; and until iron-vessels are double-plated with an
interior water-tight sheathing, wooden vessels, with solid
bottoms of floors and futtocks, will probably give greater
security in such a position for a short period of time if the
sea be rough, and for a greater period if it be smooth ; on
a flat beach, however, iron-vessels seem undoubtedly to
have the advantage. The Great Britain, lying for a whole
winter on the coast of Ireland, and the Vanguard, lying
ashore for several days on a rocky beach, are two notable
instances of iron-vessels having come off comparatively un¬
injured, after having been exposed to strains which it is
believed no wooden vessels could ha,ve undergone. There
Practical
Suilding.
■on-ves-
ds for
urposes
f war.
SHIP-BUILDING.
183
are, at least, no such instances on record with regard to
them. As another direct comparison, the Demerara may
be mentioned as a wooden vessel which, after being launched,
grounded in the river at Bristol while being brought down,
and she was so much injured that she was condemned;
whereas the Australia, an iron-vessel, on first coming down
the Clyde grounded in a similar manner, lying right across
the river in one of its narrowest parts, but she came otf
quite uninjured. Another instance of strength, such as no
wooden vessel has ever exhibited, may be quoted in the
case of an iron-vessel which, on the occasion of her being
launched, stuck on the ways which were upon a high wharf
above the water, and more than one-third of the whole
length of the vessel was left totally unsupported, overhanging
the wharf, and yet she did not break or receive any damage.
The same elements of strength which enabled these
vessels, especially the Great Britain and the Vanguard, to
withstand the strain to which they were exposed, will also
be efficacious in preventing a vessel straining at sea in a
heavy sea-way, so as to become leaky and founder at sea
from this cause. From a consideration of such facts as the
foregoing, the general opinion appears to be, that iron-ves¬
sels, as a whole, are not only stronger than wooden vessels,
generally speaking, but that they may be made of greater
or equal strength, with considerably less weight of hull.
The extent to which this saving of weight may be carried,
without impairing the strength to an improper or unsafe
degree, will always be a subject of inquiry to the iron ship¬
builder; but if he err in judgment and produce too weak
a ship, the error must be attributed to him, and the mate¬
rial must not be considered to be in fault.
The power of fitting water-tight bulkheads to iron-ves¬
sels is also a great advantage, and will be a source of much
greater security hereafter, when vessels are better built than
they have hitherto been. Their importance, and the great
additional safety which they impart, are evident, and the
principle may be carried out to any extent, and this longi¬
tudinally as well as athwartship. In the after part of screw-
ships, the passage alongside of the shaft to the propeller
may be made water-tight, and communication with the
engine-room may be cut off, if it be desired, and if proper
arrangements be made for this purpose. These bulkheads
also form a good protection against the very rapid spread¬
ing of fire, and in the case of any vessels particularly liable
to this danger they might be made double, and water be
admitted between them.
The durability of iron-ships has been already referred to,
as far as regards ordinary tear and wear; but their superi¬
ority in the event of injury by collision, or by being on
shore, is still more marked. If a few frames or floors are
broken in a wooden vessel, the amount of work required to
be entered into to replace them is very great, a large portion
of the plank in the neighbourhood requiring to be ripped
off. In an iron-vessel, on the contrary, a new piece of frame
can be put in to replace the injured part, and the whole
made as strong as before, by lapping pieces. And in the
sheathing, an injured plate, or a piece of a plate, can be cut
out and replaced without disturbing any of the other work.
For purposes of war iron-vessels have been pronounced
by some as unfit, the reasons given being, that the iron
when struck flies into innumerable small pieces, which
would be most destructive to the men on board; and that
in the event of a shot passing through the ship and striking
the further side, the plates being no longer supported by
the frames, but depending upon the rivets only, are apt to
be torn off in large pieces. In some experiments made at
the lloyal Arsenal at Woolwich, in 1844, by the late Gene¬
ral Dundas of the lloyal Artillery, it was found that the splin¬
ters resulted equally whether the plates fired at were of the
best Lowmoor iron or of common boiler-plate. A thickness
of 12 to 15 inches of wood wras found to stop almost the
whole of the small splinters; and a less thickness of a material Practical
composed of a mixture of saw-dust and India-rubber effected Building,
the same object. With a shot fired with no greater velo-
city than would just enable it to penetrate the % plates, the
splinters w'ere fewer; and at the edges of the hole through
which the shot had passed, the plate was bent back with
ragged edges. In some experiments in Portsmouth har¬
bour, an iron target was fired at, with a screen of canvas
behind it to show the splinters, and the same results were
obtained. In both cases the plates were ^--inch and f-inch
thick. In iron-vessels, therefore, constructed for the pur¬
poses of war, if composed of plates of ordinary thickness, it
would be judicious to line them with wood to prevent the
men being exposed to the risk of such splinters. In ordi¬
nary gun-boats, or corvettes, where the men are above the
hull of the ship when fighting the guns, this danger is obvi¬
ated, and a portion of the ship might also be protected to
any extent that might be considered desirable. The pre¬
sent changing state of the science of projectiles renders it
difficult to provide against all contingencies; but plates of
only ordinary thickness will stop all ordinary shells. This
is a most important difference, as these, in their various
forms, are now the most dangerous to a ship, and iron-ves¬
sels may therefore, on this account, lay claim to great con¬
sideration as adapted for warlike purposes. If the iron-
vessel, then, be so constructed that it can be penetrated by
solid shot only, it would become a question of a wooden
vessel being burnt or destroyed by shells, or of an iron-
vessel being sunk; and it is believed that many would
prefer the latter risk. A shell bursting on board, or in the
side of a wooden vessel, would cause greater injury and
loss of life than the splinters from the shot in an iron-ves¬
sel, and these, as has been said, might be lessened in a
large vessel, and avoided in the smaller vessels. It was the
opinion of many naval officers respecting the effects shown
by the experiments at Portsmouth, that if the same num¬
ber of shots had been fired at targets of wood, the canvas
screen would have been swept bodily awray, and that such
parts of the targets themselves as remained w-ould have been
reduced to a mass of fibres, without strength to sustain
themselves or resist any strain or pressure whatever. If
iron-vessels hereafter show such great superiority in strength
and safety at sea, or when cast on shore, or in durability,
as to make their introduction into the royal navy important
on these accounts, it may then become a question whether
a system may not be introduced of constructing the whole
of the lower part of the vessel of iron, up to the neighbour¬
hood of the water-line, and that the portion of the vessel
above this, where the men would be exposed to the splin¬
ters, should be of wood. The iron-frames could be con¬
tinued up for some distance alongside of the wooden frames,
and there are no practical difficulties in such a system that
could not be overcome.
PRACTICAL OPERATIONS.
After the cursory view which has been taken of the Commence-
strains to which ships are liable, and the general remarks Inent of
which have been made on the points to be attended to in P™c*1<:al ^
their construction, it is now proposed to give a short outline °^era 10n"'
of the proceedings in the actual building of the vessel.
The term “laying off'” is applied to the operation ofLaying off.
transferring to the mould loft-floor those designs and gene¬
ral proportions of a ship which have been drawn on paper,
and which have been previously referred to, and from which
all the preliminary calculations have been made and the
form decided. The lines of the ship, and exact representa¬
tions of many of the parts of which it is to be composed,
are to be delineated there to their full size, or the actual or
real dimensions, in order that moulds or skeleton outlines
may be made from them for the guidance of the workmen.
184
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical These working drawings are made by projection, and are
Building, not views of tiie ptirts as they appear to the eye. In a
projected drawing the eye is supposed to move and be
directly opposite to each line, as it, in its turn, is represented
by the draughtsman. Separate drawings must, therefore,
be made for the different laces of any object which are at
right angles to each other.
The delineation in this manner of solids of a complicated
form is of itself a science, and one which is now attracting
much more attention than formerly. It is very ably treated
by the Rev. Dr Woolley in a work entitled Descriptive
Geometry. Before the publication of this work the efforts
in this direction in this country had been chiefly made by
practical men, each showing the mode of delineating the
more difficult objects in his own art. Architectural works
showed the mode of delineating the mouldings and details
of the columns of the seven orders of architecture. Books on
carpentry showed the mode of working and laying off a
geometrical or winding staircase, and works on ship-build¬
ing included, at great length, the modes of laying oft’ com¬
plicated and irregularly formed parts. To show the mode
of delineating not only the frames, but all the pieces of
varying form which are required in the bows or sterns of
ships, would be far beyond the limits of this treatise. It is
impossible to include either a complete treatise on draw¬
ing or a complete set of delineations of the modes of com¬
bining the whole of the various minute parts of which all
classes of vessels of wood and of iron are composed.
A proper knowledge of the minutiae of construction and
of workmanship can only be obtained by practical experi¬
ence upon the work itself; and the form and combination
of the parts will continually vary with the variations in the
form and outline of the bodies and of the heads and sterns
of the ships.
Principal The principal plans of a ship are the sheer plan, the
plans. body plan, and the half-breadth plan, and these have been
already fully discussed, and their uses explained. In addi¬
tion to these plans it is customary to furnish the architect
with a profile of the inboard works, showing the dis¬
position or distance apart, and the appearance of the tim¬
bers which constitute the frame, also the length or the
heads and heels, and general arrangement of the floors
and futtocks, the midship section, on which is described
the moulding or athwartship size of the timbers, the
thickness of the exterior and interior planking, the connec¬
tion of the beams to the side, the dimensions of the water¬
ways and shelf-pieces, and the forms and fastenings of the
knees, &c. These, with a scheme of scantlings containing
the dimensions and other particulars of the principal pieces
which enter into the construction of the fabric, constitute
Fore and
after
bodies.
Midship
body.
Square
and cant
bodies.
all the preparatory information required by the builder.
In private contracts very full information on all these points
is generally included in the specification.
A ship is generally spoken of as divided into fore and
after bodies, and these combined constitute the whole of
the ship; they are supposed to be separated by an ima¬
ginary athwartship section at the widest part of the ship,
called the midship section or dead-flat.
The midship body is a term applied to an indefinite
length of the middle part, of a ship longitudinally, includ¬
ing a portion of the fore-body and of the after-body. It is
not necessarily parallel or of the same form for its whole
length.
Those portions of a ship which are termed the square
and cant bodies may be considered as subdivisions of the
fore and aft bodies: There is a square fore-body and a
square after-body towards the middle of the ship, and a
cant fore-body and a cant after-body at the two ends. In
the square body the sides of the frames are square to the line
of the keel, and are athwartship, vertical planes. In the cant
bodies the sides of the frames are not square to the line of
the keel, but are inclined aft in the fore-body, and forward
in the after-body. The reasons for the frames in these
portions of a wooden ship being canted, is that, in tliese
parts of the ship, the timber would be too much cut away
on account of the fineness of the angle formed between an
athwart ship plane and the outline or water-lines of the
ship. The timber is therefore turned partially round till
the outside face coincides nearly with the desired outline,
and it is by this movement that the side of a frame in the
cant fore-body is made to point aft, and in the cant aft-body
to point forward. This will be best understood by the an¬
nexed figure, showing an exaggerated horizontal section of
a frame in the fore cant-body, the dotted line representing
the extent to which the timber would have been cut away
if it had been placed square to the line of keel, and if the
Practical
Building
side ab had not been “canted” aft, turning on the point
or edge a.
In wooden ships the term “timbers” is sometimes ap¬
plied to the frames only, but more generally to all large
pieces of timber used in the construction. Timbers, when
combined together to form an athwartship outline of the
body of a ship, are technically called frames, and some¬
times ribs. In iron-ships the frames are composed of iron-
bars of various forms.
The terms moulding and siding are nearly synonymous Moulding
with thickness and breadth, observing that the moulding of and sidin'
a piece of timber is the dimension of the side on which the
mould is applied for determining its shape or curvature.
For instance, the moulding of a beam is its length and
thickness; its siding is its fore' and aft dimension or
breadth.
Room and space is a certain distance determined by the Room anc
fore and aft dimensions, or the siding of two adjacent tim- space,
bers, together with the opening between them. It is gene¬
rally defined as the distance from centre to centre of the
frames, or from centre to centre of the spaces between
them. The centre line between two adjacent frames is
called the joint.
Shift in its general sense is applied to a certain arrange- Shift,
ment among the component parts of a ship. Thus a shift
of deadwood, or a shift of plank, means the disposition of
the buts of the timber or plank with reference to the longi¬
tudinal distance of one joint from another, and this with
respect both to strength and economy.
The bevelling of a timber is the angle contained be- Bevelling
tween two of its adjacent sides. Bevellings are either acute
angles, right angles, or obtuse angles. These three sepa¬
rate cases are denominated under bevellings, square bevel¬
lings, and standing bevellings.
Sirmarks are certain points or stations marked on the Siraarks
mould of the timbers, at which the bevellings are applied,
in order to cut the timber to the bevelling required at that
spot. These sirmarks are determined, and their positions
denoted in the body plan, by the various diagonal lines.
Water-lines in the sheer plan, are lines drawn parallel Water-
to the surface of the water (Plate III.) Level-lines are lines and
similar to water-lines, except that they are drawn parallel level-lin(
to the keel instead of to the water (Plates V. and VI.)
In the half-breadth plans, the water-lines or level-lines show
the outline of the form of the ship at sections at the corre¬
sponding heights in the sheer and body plans.
Diagonal lines, as shown in the body plan and half-Diagonal
breadth plan (Plate III.), and marked 1 D, 2 D, 3 D,line3.
SHIP-BUILDING.
185
Practical
Building.
Diagonals
on sheer
plan.
Diagonal
on half¬
breadth
plan.
Every form
to be drawn
on the floor,
and its
beveling
obtained.
Expanding
the body.
show the boundaries of various sections which are oblique
to the vertical longitudinal plane, and which intersect that
plane in straight lines parallel to the keel. In wooden
ships, the position of the diagonal lines drawn in the body
plan is not arbitrary, because it has reference to the differ¬
ent timbers of which the frame is composed, and also to the
station of the ribands and harpins. The number of dia¬
gonals is increased in the deeper class of vessels. They
are drawn to show the lengths of the floors and futtocks,
together with the heights of their heads and heels above
the keel, and are marked floor-head, &c. Diagonals,
marked as 1st sirmark, 2d sirmark, 3d sirmark, &c., or 1 D,
2 D, 3 D, on the body plan (Plate III.), show the heights
and situation of the harpins and ribands which are used to
give support to the ship whilst in frame. In wooden ships
they are always placed between the heads of the respective
timbers.
The following is the mode of setting off the diagonals in
the sheer plan :—Take the perpendicular heights in the
body plan, that is, the heights square to the upper edge of
the keel of the intersection of the diagonal with each of
the transverse sections, and transfer these heights to the
corresponding section in the sheer plan. Through the
points thus obtained draw a curve, which will be the line
required.
To transfer the diagonals to the half-breadth plan : ob¬
serve the point of intersection of the diagonal on the body
plan with each transverse section, and take the horizontal
distance of each of these points from the middle line, and
transfer it to the corresponding section in the half-breadth
plan. Through the points thus obtained draw a curved
line, which will represent the horizontal line of the diagonal.
After these lines have been added to the sheer, body, and
half-breadth plans on paper, the transference to the floor,
where the ship is to be delineated to the full size, is easy.
It is the duty of the draughtsman in the mould-loft floor
to fair the body, if any of the curves shown by the lines
previously drawn on the paper do not appear of easy and
good forms, when represented of their full size.
On the mould-loft floor it is necessary, in iron-ships, to
draw out every frame, so as to be able to give the particu¬
lars to the workmen ; and it is not only necessary to give
them the outline of the frame, but also the beveling or the
angle which the outer surface makes with the side at each
spot or sirmark. This is obtained from the half-breadth
plan at the various points where the different level lines or
diagonal lines cross each frame. A variety of modes are
practised by different builders of iron-ships to convey this
information from the mould-loft to the workmen, instead of
using moulds, as almost universally practised by builders
of wooden ships. Great accuracy in this I’espect is re¬
quired in iron-ships, as in them no dubbing off or pairing
the body by the adze is practicable.
Expanding the body so as to represent the whole of the
planking or outer skin or surface of a ship, is another pro¬
cess connected with laying off; and it is particularly im¬
portant to the iron ship-builder, as it enables him to obtain
the necessary iron-plates from the rolling-mills of the exact
widths and lengths that will be required. This is done by
drawing a line, to represent the line where the plates meet
the keel and stern-posts. On this line the station of any
number of frames that may be necessary to give the de¬
sired degree of accuracy must be set off, and at these
stations lines must be drawn of a length equal to the girt
or outline of the frame at that station ; this length will be
obtained from the body plan. The number of strakes to
be used in planking or sheathing the ship must next be
determined and be set off accordingly, on the lines repre¬
senting the different frames ; and great art is necessary in
this operation, as upon these lines much of the beauty of a
ship depends to please the eye of a connoisseur. The shift
VOL. XX.
or the distances between the ends of the different plates Practical
may also be determined and marked in this plan, and thus Building,
the length, width, and breadth of every plate maybe accu- v—/
rately ascertained.
The circumference of the bottom being much larger at
the midship part than toward the extremities—that is, at the
bow and buttock—the lines for the strakes taper as they
recede from midships. They also acquire an upward curve,
called “ Sny,” which renders it difficult to work the plank. “ Sny.”
When the sny becomes too great, a strake is ended short
of the others, and this is termed a “ stealer,” as it dimi¬
nishes the sny for the succeeding strakes. Under the
buttock it is often necessary to work some of the after¬
plank wider at the after-end, and this has the same effect
of diminishing the sny of the following strakes. “ Hang”
is the exact reverse of “ sny.” It mostly occurs in work¬
ing plank on the inner surface of the timbers, and outside
above the main breadth.
With regard to the practical operations in building a
ship, nothing more can be attempted here than a few
general observations on the principal parts of a ship, and
the mode of putting them together, to resist the various
strains to which each part will be subjected. The practice
in her Majesty’s yard will be found very fully explained in
Fincham’s outlines of shipbuilding, and in a very excel¬
lent treatise by Mr Peake, now master-shipwright at Devon-
port. Some details of wooden ships of the ordinary system
of construction will be first described.
The keel of a ship built in this country is generally com- The keel
posed of elm, on account of its toughness, and from its not
being liable to split if the ship should take the ground,
though pierced in all directions by the numerous fastenings
passing through it. It is generally composed of as long
pieces as can be obtained, united to each other by hori¬
zontal scarphs. These scarphs are made sloping up from
the bottom to the upper surface, on which the floors rest.
But the strain to which a keel is subjected has a tendency
to curve it up or down, and not sideways. These scarphs
should, therefore, be made vertical, in the same manner as
scarphs of the beams, as there can be no doubt that the
vertical scarph will give the greatest strength to resist a
strain in this direction.
The rabbet of the keel is an angular recess cut into the Rabbet of
side to receive the edge of the planks on each side of it.tbe keel*
In the government service this rabbet is made of greater
breadth vertically, so that the plank to fill it is required to
be of such great thickness that it altogether loses the cha¬
racter of a plank, and becomes a stout massive pie*e of
timber. This arrangement was introduced by Mr Lang,
and has been denominated Lang’s safety keel. It gives
great additional strength to the bottom of a ship, and great
lateral support to the keel, when the ship takes the ground
and rests on the edge, as the leverage to displace it side¬
ways is thus reduced.
In the merchant service the rabbet is seldom carried so
low down on the side, and the garboard strake or strakes
are not so thick. The keel forward is connected to the stem
by a scarph, sometimes called the boxing scarph, and aft to
the stern-post, by mortice and tenon. The apron is fayed or
fitted to the after-side of the stem, and is intended to give
shift to its scarphs, the lower end scarphs to the deadwood.
The keelson is an internal line of timbers fayed upon the
inside of the floors directly over the keel, the floors being
thus confined between it and the keel. Its use is to secure
the frames and to give shift to the scarphs of the keel, and
thus give strength to the ship to resist extension length¬
ways, and to prevent her hogging or sagging. The fore¬
most end of the keelson scarphs to the stemson, which is
intended to give shift to the scarphs connecting the stem
and keel. The frames or ribs are composed of the strong¬
est and most durable timber obtainable. By Lloyd’s rules
2 A
186
SHIP-BUILDING.
Floors.
Shelf-
pieces.
Practical a durability of twelve years is assigned to frames composed of
Building. English, African, and live oak, East India teak, Morning Saul
greenheart, morra or iron-bark ; of ten years to mahogany of
hard texture, Cuba, sabicu, and pencil cedar; of ten years
for floors and first futtock, and nine years for second and
third futtocks and top timbers, to Adriatic, Spanish, and
French oak; of nine years to red cedar, angelly and
Venatica ; of nine years for floors and first futtocks, and
seven years to second and third futtocks and top timbers
of other continental white oaks, Spanish chestnut, stringy
bark, and blue gum; of eight years and seven years re¬
spectively, as before, for North American white oak and
American sweet chestnut; of seven years for larch, hack-
matac, tamarac and juniper, and pitch-pines.
The floors in the government service are carried across
the keel with a short and long arm on either side alter¬
nately, so as to break joint, and between the frames the
space is filled in solid.
Longitudinal pieces of timber are worked round the
interior of a ship for the purpose of receiving the ends of the
beams of the several decks; they are called shelves, and are
of the greatest importance, not only for this purpose, but
also as longitudinal ties and struts. In any system of
diagonal bracing, properly carried out, they should form
one side of the parallelogram or of the triangle, and those
other timbers, or iron-bars, which form the diagonals or the
other sides of the parallelogram or triangle ought to be
firmly secured to them. A thick strake of plank used for¬
merly to be worked between the shelf and the timbers or
frames, but now it is generally worked home upon them.
The shelf is generally supported by some thick strakes of
plank worked immediately under it, and formerly it was
also sometimes supported by checks or triangular pieces,
like brackets on the ship’s side, brought out to be flush with
the inner edge of the shelf, and on the face of this an iron-
knee. This chock is now generally dispensed with, and the
lower side of the shelf is bevelled off towards the ship’s side,
and the iron-knee is forged to fit under it accordingly.
These fastenings will be referred to when treating of the
means of securing the ends of the beams. The other fast¬
enings of shelf-pieces are by numerous through-bolts.
Timbers which are fayed to the inside of the frame, or upon
the inside of the plank, longitudinally or diagonally, solely
for the purpose of supporting the frame, are called riders.
The beams. The beams of a ship prevent the sides from collapsing,
and at the same time carry the decks. The beams are
spaced, and their scantling settled upon, according to the
strength required to be given to the decks, and to suit the
positions of the masts and hatchways, and other arrange¬
ments connected with the economy of the ship. All beams
have a curve upwards towards the middle of the ship called
the round up. This is for the purpose of strength, and for
the convenience of the run of the water to the scuppers.
Wooden beams are single piece, two, three, or four piece
beams according to the number of pieces of timber of which
they are composed. The several pieces are scarphed to¬
gether, and dowelled Beam.
and bolted, the 5 *—_ ^  '
scarphs being al-   1 
ways vertical. A ri^32,
scarph now very generally adopted was introduced by Mr
Edge, late master-shipwright of Devonport dockyard, and
is represented in the annexed figure. The beams of ships
being supported at both ends, and one of the strains to
which they are chiefly subjected being a downward pres¬
sure, the upper part of the beams will then be compressed,
and the lower parts extended. It is therefore desirable
that the lower part of the beams should not be wounded so
as to cut the fibres across in that part. An incision above
the line of the vertical axis is of less moment, and if an in¬
cision be made there for the purpose of introducing a
carling, for instance, and if this be well fitted, and be of as Practical
hard wood as the beam, the strength of the beam will not Building,
be impaired, but may even be increased.
The connection of the ends of the beams to the sides of Connection
the ship have been made in various ways. The points toof the
be considered, with reference to this connection, are, that jj*1™ to
the beam is required to act as a shore or strut, to P^vent th® J1®®of
the sides of the ship from collapsing, and also as a tie to
prevent their falling apart; that the beam shall not rise
from its seat, and that it shall not work in a fore and aft
direction; that the beam may be an effective shore, no¬
thing more is necessary than that the abutment of the end
against the ship’s side may be perfect.
In order that it may act as a tie between the two sides, it
is generally dowelled to the upper surface of the shelf on
which it rests; and the under surface of the water-way
plank which lies upon it is sometimes dowelled into it.
These dowels, therefore, connect it with the shelf and the
waterway, and through this means it is thus connected
with the sides of the ship. There is, also, in the ships
of the royal navy, a plank called a side-binding strake,
scored down over and into tbe beam-ends at some distance
from the side, and bolted through the side between the
beams. The scoring into the beams connects the in and
out fastenings of this strake with the longitudinal tie of the
beams, but the advantage does not seem to be' commen¬
surate with the labour.
The beams are also supported by knees below them. Knees to
Wooden knees are chiefly used in America; and it is beams,
argued that they give a better support to the beam from
their greater surface, and from their stiffness in the throat,
or angle of the knee. The iron-knees used in the royal
navy vary in form; they are made not only to support the
beam from below, but sometimes with horns to clasp it side-
•ways at a short distance from the side of the ship. The
lower arms of these knees are so formed as to fit round the
shelf; or sometimes, with a view to prevent the necessity ot
working the iron into this form, and at the same time afford
additional support to the shelf, a chock is fitted under the
shelf to receive the face of the knee. While the knee is
instrumental in supporting the beam, it is also upon it that
dependence is mainly placed to prevent the beam rising, or
working in an upward direction. In these fastenings there
appears a want of any very efficient means to prevent the
beam straining in a fore and aft direction, or working upon
the end as upon a pivot.
From the short outline previously given of the disturb-Strains
ing forces acting on a ship, it will be seen that the strain
on the ends of the beams to destroy their connection with resisti
the side and loosen the fastenings, must be very great when
the ship is under sail, either on a wind or before it—that
is, either inclined or rolling. The principal action of these
forces is to alter the vertical angle made by the beam and
the ship’s side—that is, to raise or depress the beam, and
so alter the angle between it and the side of the ship above
or below it. On the lee-side the weight of the weather
side of the ship and all connected with it, and of the decks
and everything upon it, as well as the upward pressure of
the water, all tend to diminish the angle made by the beam
and the ship’s side below it, and consequently increase the
angle made between them above it. The contrary effect
is produced on the weather side, where the tendency is to
close the angle above the beam and open that below it. If
the beam when subjected to these strains, be considered as
a lever, it will be evident that the fastenings to prevent its
rising ought to be as far from the side as is consistent with
the convenience or accommodation of the ship; and that
while the support should also be extended inwards, the
fastening to keep down the beam-end should be as close to
the end of the beam, and consequently to the ship-side, as
it can be placed.
SHIP-BUILDING.
187
Practical The annexed section of the side of a three-decked ship
Building, of the royal navy shows some of the modes that have been
adopted for securing- „
theendsof the beam”.
jjalf. Beams which do
beams. not extend from one
side of the ship to
the other are called
half-beams. They
are introduced when¬
ever the hatches or
openings in the mid¬
dle of the ship are
such as to require the
whole or unbroken
beams to be so wide
apart that the deck
requires support be¬
tween them. Their
ends, towards the
midships, are receiv¬
ed by fore and aft
pieces called carl-
ings, which go from
beam to beam ; and
any intermediate
athwartship pieces
Carlings between the carlings
and ledges, are called ledges.
The two sides of
the ship at the bows
are connected by
hooks, which are
either of timber or
of iron. It is im¬
portant to remember
that the hooks above,
and those below the Pig. 33.
surface of the water, are subjected to an opposite strain.
The tendency of the pressure of the water on the bow
Hooks.
is to make the sides collapse, and therefore the hooks be- Practical
low the water’s surface should not only act as ties to the Building,
bow while the ship is grounded—as, for instance, when in
dock—but should be formed more especially to resist the
pressure of the water when she is afloat. Those hooks
which are above the surface of the water act principally as
ties, the rake of the bow and the weight of its parts tending
to separate the two sides of the ship.
The plank, or skin, or sheathing of a ship, both external Planking,
and internal, is of various thicknesses. A strake of plank¬
ing is a range of planks abutting against each other, and
generally extending the whole length of the ship. A thick
strake, or a combination of several thick strakes are worked
wherever it is supposed that the frame requires particular
support—for instance, internally over the heads and heels of
the timbers; both externally and internally in men-of-war
vessels between the ranges of ports; and internally to sup¬
port the connection of the beams with the sides, and at the
same time form a longitudinal tie. The upper strakes of
plank, or assemblages of external planks, are called the
sheer-strakes. The strakes between the several ranges of
ports, beginning from under the upper-deck ports of a
three-decked ship in the royal navy, are called the channel
wale, the middle wale, and the main wale. The strake
immediately above the main wale is called the black strake.
The strakes below the main wale diminish from the thick¬
ness of the main wale to the thickness of the plank of the
bottom, and are therefore called the diminishing strakes.
The lowest strake of the plank of the bottom, and whose
edge fits into the rabbet of the keel, is called the garboard
strake.
Plank is either worked in parallel strakes, when it is called
“ straight edged,” or in combination of two strakes, so that
every alternate seam is parallel. There are two methods
of working these combinations, one of which is called
“ anchor stock,” and the other “ top and butt.” The
difference will be best shown by the annexed figure. The
difference in the intention is, that in the method of work¬
ing two strakes anchor-stock fashion, the narrowest part of
one strake always occurs opposite to the widest part of the
Pig. 34.
other strake, and consequently the least possible sudden
interruption of longitudinal fibre, arising from the abut¬
ment, is obtained. This description, therefore, of plank¬
ing is used where strength is especially desirable. In top
and butt strakes the intention is, by having a wide end and
a narrow end in each plank, to approximate to the growth of
the tree, and to diminish the difficulty of procuring the
plank. When the planking is looked upon as a longitu¬
dinal tie, the advantage of these edges being, as it were,
imbedded into each other is apparent, all elongation by one
edge sliding upon the other being thus prevented. The
shift of plank is the manner of arranging the butts of the
several strakes. In the ships of the royal navy the butts
are not allowed to occur in the same vertical line, or
on the same timber, without the intervention of three whole
strakes between them.
Of the internal planking the lowest strake, or combina- Limber-
tion of strakes, in the hold, is called the limber-strake. A strake.
limber is a passage for water, of which there is one through¬
out the length of the ship, on each side of the keelson, in
order that any leakage may find its way to the pumps.
The whole of the plank in the hold is called the ceiling. Ceiling and
Those strakes which come over the heads and heels of the internal
timbers are worked thicker than the general thickness ofplaaking.
the ceiling, and are distinguished as the thick strakes over
the several heads. The strakes under the ends of the beams
188
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical of the different decks in a man-of-war, and down to the
Building, ports of the deck below, if there be any ports, are called the
'"'-■‘V—'' clamps of the particular decks, to the beams of which they
are the support, as the gun-deck clamps, the middle-deck
clamps, &c. The strakes which work up to the sills of the
ports of the several decks are called the spirketting of those
decks—as gun-deck spirketting, upper-deck spirketting, &c.
Fastenings The fastening of the plank is either “ single,” by which
of the is meant one fastening only in each strake, as it passes
planks. each timber or frame; or it may be “ double,” that is, with
two fastenings into each frame which it crosses ; or, again,
the fastenings may be “ double and single,” meaning that
the fastenings are double and single alternately in the frames
as they cross them. The fastenings of planks consist
generally either of nails or treenails, excepting at the butts,
which are secured by bolts. Several other bolts ought to be
driven in each shift of plank as additional security. Bolts
which are required to pass through the timbers as securities
to the shelf, water-way, knees, &c., should be taken advan¬
tage of to supply the place of the regular fastening of the
plank, not only for the sake of economy, but also for the
sake of avoiding unnecessarily wounding the timbers.
The planking in the royal yards is not usually fastened
permanently till some time after it is trimmed and brought
on to the bottom of a ship. It is thus allowed to season
and shrink ; and one strake in eight or ten is left out for the
purpose of allowing ventilation, and to make good the
shrinkage, and also to allow the strakes to be refayed.
Without the latter provision there would be such an altera¬
tion of edge as would throw the holes made for the tem¬
porary securities out of the range of the strakes; but with
this precaution it is very seldom that the alteration of edge is
such as to require new holes, especially as the iron screw-eye
bolts used for this temporary fastening are of much smaller
diameter than the permanent treenail fastening, and there¬
fore the holes for them through the plank can still be made
good holes for the treenails. This method of securing the
planks by a first or temporary fastening, to be afterwards
substituted by a treenail, is also of advantage in enabling
them to be brought into close contact with the timbers,
in the saving of bolt fastenings, and in causing a good and
regular seam to be given for the caulking.
The advantages and disadvantages of iron as a fastening
for planking have been already discussed. The strength
of treenails to resist a cross-sheering strain, as found by Mr
Parsons, late of H.M. Dockyard Service, is shown in the
following table
Experi¬
ments on
fastenings.
Number
of the
Experi¬
ment.
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
Average
Diameter of the Treenails.
1 Inch.
1£ Inch.
Inch;
1| Inch.
Thickness of the Plank.
3 In.
T. C.
1 8
1 7
1 2
1 51
2 12
2 2
1 16
1 11
In. 3 In. 6 In, 3 In. 6 In. 3 In. 6 In
T. C.
1 7
1 15
1 8
1 8
1 3
1 7
1 10
2 3
1 13
T. C.
2 6
T. C.
2 8
2 2
2 19
2 2
2 6
T. C.
2 0
2 '6
2 15
2 4
2 18
2 6
2 16
3 2
T. C.
3 0
2 10
4 0
2 8
3 10
3 10
3 5
4 10
4 2
3 10
T. C.
5 10
4 6
“ In all these experiments on treenails, when the tree- Practical
nails were evidently good, they gave way gradually. In Buying,
some of the rejected experiments, however, the treenails
certainly did break off suddenly, but then they were evi¬
dently, on examination, either of bad or over-seasoned ma¬
terial. It has been asserted that the treenails made from
the Sussex oak are much stronger than those made from
the New Forest timber, or any other English oak. To
ascertain the truth of this assertion, some experiments were
made with Sussex and New Forest treenails of all sizes;
and the result was, that there was not the least difference
in them, the New Forest were, on experiment, quite as strong
as the Sussex. In the experiments on treenails, the plank
generally moved about half an inch previous to the fracture
of the treenail.”
The following useful tables were also drawn up by Mr
Parsons from a series of valuable experiments carefully
made by him, and show the longitudinal holding power of
treenails. The first of these tables exhibits the adhesion
of iron and copper bolts, driven into sound oak, with the
usual drift, not clenched, and subject to a direct tensile
strain. By drift is meant the allowance made to insure suffi¬
cient tightness in a fastening; it is therefore the quantity
by which the diameter of a fastening exceeds the diameter
of the hole bored for its reception.
“ Table of the Adhesion of Iron and Copper Bolts driven
into sound Oak with the usual Drift, not clenched, and
subjected to a direct Tensile Strain.
“ Table of the Transverse Strength of Treenails of English
Oak used as fastening for Planks of 3 and of 6 inches
in thickness, and subjected to a Cross Strain.
Diameter
of the
Bolt.
Inches,
l-
Number
of the
Experi¬
ment.
Iron.
Copper.
Length of the Bolt driven into the Wood.
Fonr
Inches.
1..
13
0
2
13
6
4
4
0
2
4
0
10
o
0
1
1
3
2
10
10
10
12
10
10
0
7
11
0
Tons. Cwt.
Six
Inches.
12
11
16
10
12
0
0
0
5
8
8
0
0
0
0
0
2
10
11
4
2
1
5
0
Tons. Cwt.
0 18*
0 18
0 19
0 18
1 7
Four
Inches.
8
10
13
10
17
2
5
0
6
6
9
10
10
10
18
0
0
5
2
2
8
15
10
Six
Inches.
“ In Riga fir the adhesion was, on an average, about one-
third of that in oak, and in good sound Canada elm it was
about three-fourths of that in oak.
The following table exhibits the strength of clenches
and of forelocks as securities to iron and copper bolts,
driven six inches, without drift, into sound oak, either
clenched or forelocked on rings, and subjected to a direct
tensile strain. It gives the diameter of the bolt on which
the experiment was made, as well as the number of the
experiment:—
practical
Building.
SHIP-BUILDING.
189
« Table of the Strength of Clenches and of Forelocks, as
securities to Iron and Copper Bolls, driven six inches,
without Drift, into sound. Oak, either clenched or fore-
locked on Rings, and subjected to a direct Tensile Strain.
Diameter
of the
Dolt-
Inch.
i-
N umber
of the
Experi¬
ment.
Iron.
Clench.
Forelock.
Tons. Cwt.
16
13
9
9
0
0
16
15
15
10
5
12
18
8
8
0
10
10
0
8 15
11 11
11 15
8 11
8 6
12
12
11
11
Tons. Cwt.
0 16
0 14
0 20
0 18
15
8
9
14
11
15
10
12
15
6
0
7
10
15
10
15
1
10
6
15
18
18
12
2
Copper.
Clench.
Tons. Cwt.
1 0
0 19
0
0
10
10
5
9
10
15
0
10
0
15
5
10
0
0
5
8
16
16
12
5
1
1
14
8 14
Forelock.
Tons. Cwt.
0 8
8
7
6
4
0
2
4
18
18
4
16
13
10
16
10
“ In the experiments on the clenches, the clenches
always gave way; but with the forelocks it as frequently
occurred that the forelock was cut off as that the bolt broke;
and in the cases of the bolt breaking, it was invariably
across the forelock hole. According to the tables, the
security of a forelock is about half that of a clench.
“ It appears an anomaly that the strength of a clench on
copper should be equal to that of one on iron. But, in
consequence of the greater ductility of copper, a better
clench is formed on it than on iron. Generally the thick¬
ness of the fractured clench in the copper was double that
in the iron. With rings of the usual width for the clenches,
the wood will break away under the ring, and the ring be
imbedded for two or more inches before the clench will
give way.
“ With the inch copper-bolts, all the rings under the
clenches turned up into the shape of the frustum of a cone,
and allowed the clench to slip through at the weights
specified.
“ Experiments with ring-bolts were made to ascertain
the strength of the rings in comparison with the clenches.
The rings were of the usual size, viz., the iron of the ring
one-eighth inch less in diameter than that of the bolt. It
was found that the rings always carried away the clenches,
but that they were drawn into the form of a link with per¬
fectly straight sides. The rings bore, before any change
of form took place, not quite one-half the weight which
tore off the clenches. It appears that the rings are well
proportioned to the strength of the clenches.”
from these tables it will be seen how much the strength
of a clenched or fore-locked bolt falls short of the strength
due to the full diameter of the bolt where a tensile strain
only is applied to it; and when exposed to a cross strain, it
is also well known how much the strength is diminished
when the ends are not fastened and held securely in posi¬
tion. An increased use of screw-bolts with nuts and larger
plates or rings under the heads and under the nuts would
therefore give great additional strength ; and if a sufficient
length of the bolt were screwed at the end to allow of as
much as an inch being cut off when too long, the supply
of sizes necessary to be kept in store would not be large.
Economy also would be likely to result from the greater
accuracy in the length required to be given for the bolt
about to be drawn from the store for use.
Screw-treenails of the annexed form have lately been
introduced by Messrs Hall, the well known builders of the
Aberdeen clipper-ships, and whose modes of construction
will be more particularly referred to hereafter. The in¬
creased holding power of such treenails to prevent planks
from starting needs no demonstration.
Practical
Building.
Fig.35.
The decks of a ship, as has before been stated, must not Decks,
be considered merely as platforms, but must be regarded as
performing an important part towards the general strength
of the whole fabric. They are generally laid in a longi¬
tudinal direction only, and are then useful as a tie to resist
extension, or as a strut to resist compression. The outer
strakes of decks at the sides of the ship are generally hard
wood, and of greater thickness than the deck itself; they
are called the water-way planks, and are sometimes dowelled
to the upper surface of each beam. Their rigidity and
strength is of great importance, and great attention should
be paid to them, and care taken that their scarphs are well
secured by through bolts, and that there is a proper shift
between their scarphs and the scarphs of the shelf.
When the decks are considered as a tie, the importance
of keeping as many strakes as possible entire for the whole
length of the ship must be evident; and it has already been
stated that a continuous strake of wrought-iron plates beneath
the decks is of great value in this respect. The straighter
the deck, or the less the sheer or upward curvature at the
ends that may be given to it, the less liable will it be to any
alteration oflength, and the stronger will it be. The ends
of the different planks forming one strake are made to butt
on one beam, and as the fastenings are then driven close to
the ends, they do not possess much strength to resist being
torn out. The shifts of the butts, therefore, of the different
strakes require great attention, because the transference of
the longitudinal strength of the deck from one plank to an¬
other is thus made by means of the fastenings to the beams,
the strakes not being united to each other sideways.
These fastenings have also to withstand the strain dur- Strain in
ing the process of caulking, which has a tendency to force caulking to
the planks sideways from the seam; and as the edges of planks be resisted-
of hard wood will be less crushed or compressed than those
of softwood when acted on by the caulking-iron, the strain
to open the seam between them to receive the caulking
will be greater than with planks of softer wood, and will
require more secure fastenings to resist it. It may also be
remarked that the quantity of fastenings should increase with
the thickness of the plank which is to be secured, for the
set of the oakum in caulking will have the greater mechani¬
cal effect the thicker the edge.
A deck, laid in a diagonal direction only, involves a great Diagonally
loss of strength longitudinally, and the advantages are notlaid d®cks.
such as to compensate for this loss, and for the other in¬
conveniences as to wear and tear, which result from such a
system. Mackonochie proposed to lay decks in three
layers, one diagonally from starboard to port, another from
port to starboard, and an upper layer fore and aft. He
also proposed a somewhat similar system for the outside
planking, and vessels have been built on different modifica-'
tions of this plan both in this country and in America.
190
SHIP-BUILDING.
down.
Partners.
Steps.
Coamings
and head
ledges.
Caulking.
Practical At the two ends of a ship it is important that the strength
Building. 0f tiie tie 0f the deck should be maintained there, and
while the continuation and connection of the shelf-pieces
Import- and waterway-planks are duly attended to, with any neces-
anee of se- sary hooks and crutches, additional strength to sustain the
curing the j)rojeCting bows and raking sterns may be obtained by a
decks at connection of several beams to the extreme
mities/ " ends. This may be done by long bolts passed through
the beams and secured by nuts and screws at their ends,
or by pieces of timber fore and aft, underneath the beams,
and bolted to them. These beams should have several
ranges of carlings let down between them to diffuse the
strain.
Dowelling In all such connections of wood with wood, dowelling is
and scoring mucji to be preferred to scoring down. The latter is ob¬
jectionable on account of its wounding and weakening the
parts in a greater degree, and the joint is subject to become
loose or open by the shrinkage of the materials, and it also
requires much more care and skill on the part of the work¬
man for its perfect execution. It should therefore be dis¬
continued wherever practicable.
The frame-work of timbers which is formed round the
mast-holeS in each deck is called the mast partners. “ Part¬
ners” generally are the principal timbers in a framing
formed for the support of anything passing through a deck,
as the masts and capstands.
The pieces of timber to receive the heels of the several
masts are called steps, as the main, fore, or mizen steps.
Coamings are pieces generally faying on carlings, and
rising higher than the flat of the deck, to form the fore and
aft sides or boundaries of openings, such as hatch or ladder-
ways ; head ledges forming the athwartship boundaries to
the same openings.
When the planks are fastened, the seams or the inter¬
vals between the edges of the strakes are filled with oakum,
and this is beaten in or caulked with such care and force
that the oakum, while undisburbed, is almost as hard as the
plank itself. If the openings of the seam were of equal
widths throughout their depth between the planks, it would
be impossible to make the caulking sufficiently compact to
resist the water. At the bottom edges of the seams the
planks should be in contact throughout their length, and
from this contact they should gradually open upwards, so
that, at the outer edge of a plank 10 inches thick, the space
should be about |gth of an inch, that is, about -j^th of an
inch open for every inch of thickness. It will hence be
seen that if the edges of the planks are so prepared that
when laid they fit closely for their whole thickness, the force
required to compress the outer edge by driving the caulk¬
ing-iron into the seams, to open them sufficiently, must be
very great, and the fastenings of the planks must be such as
to be able to resist it. Bad caulking is very injurious in
every way, as leading to leakage and to the rotting of the
planks themselves at their edges. It frequently happens,
however, that the caulking is blamed when the leakage and
the attendant evils have been caused by the edges of the
planks sliding upon each other through the working of the
deck or of the ship.
Instead of pitch for closing the seams above the oakum,
Mr Jeffery introduced a mixture of shellac and caoutchouc,
combined with naphtha. This is at first more expensive,
but its decided superiority and greater durability, prevent¬
ing the necessity of so frequently re-caulking, will counter¬
balance this in due time, so as to be to the advantage of
the ship-owner, though this will not make it economical to
the ship-builder who builds and completes a vessel by con¬
tract. It is insoluble in water, and impervious to it; it is
also elastic, and yet of sufficient solidity to fill up the joint
and give strength; and it is also powerfully adhesive, so as
to connect the planks together at their edges.
The mode of applying diagonal trussing to strengthen the
Marine
glue.
side of a ship constructed in accordance with the foregoing Practical
outline, will next be considered. Building.
In the system of building which was superseded by that
termed the diagonal system, the whole of the interior sur- Diagonal
face of the frame was planked, and a second series of internal trussing,
frames was worked upon this planking, agreeing in direc¬
tion with the timbers of the ship. Riders were also intro¬
duced in various parts, but not diagonally, and those in the
hold were no doubt necessary when it was the custom to
“ ground” ships on a beach for repair; a large quantity of
timber was thus massed together, having the appearance
of great strength; but, in fact, from its weight, injudicious
combination, disposition and fastening, much of it was, if not
injurious, at least useless. The idea of diagonal trussing
was not an entire novelty at the time when Sir Robert
Seppings introduced it as a system. There is evidence, in the
representation of a vessel under repair in the fifteenth cen¬
tury, of some pieces of timber having been used diagonally
in her construction, as also in some other isolated instances.
The credit, however, of calling the attention of ship-builders
to the principles on which the advantages of diagonal trussing
depend, is entirely due to Sir Robert Seppings, and no
ship is now ever built without the principle being brought
into action in a greater or less degree.
He described his system in a paper communicated by
him to the Royal Society, and which is printed in their
Transactions for the year 1814. In that paper, after sup¬
posing the frames for a two-decked 74 gun-ship to be in
place, and the spaces between the frames filled-in solid, he
proceeds as follows:—
“ In this state the diagonal timbers are introduced, inter¬
secting the timbers of the frame at about the angle of 45°,
and so disposed as that the direction in the fore is contrary
to that in the after part of the ship, and their distance
asunder from 6 to 7 feet or more ; their upper ends abutting
against the horizontal hoop or shelf-piece of the gun-deck
beams, and the lower ends against the limber strakes, ex¬
cept in the midships, where they come against two pieces
of timber placed on each side of the keelson (called addi¬
tional keelsons), for the purpose of taking off’ the partial
pressure of the main-mast, which always causes a sagging
down of the keel, and sometimes to an alarming degree.
These pieces of timber are nearly as square as the keelson,
and fixed at such a distance from it that the main step may
rest upon them. They may be of oak or pitch-pine, and
as long as can be conveniently procured. Pieces of timber
are next placed in a fore and aft direction over the joints
of the frame-timbers, at the floor and first futtock-heads ;
their ends in close contact with, and coaked or dowelled
to, the sides of the diagonal timbers. In this state the
frame-work in the hold presents various compartments,
each representing the figure of a rhomboid.
“ A truss-timber is then introduced into each rhomboid,
with an inclination opposite to that of the diagonal timbers,
thereby dividing it into two parts. The truss-pieces so
introduced into the rhomboid are to the diagonal frame
what the key-stone is to the arch; for no weight or pres¬
sure on the fabric can alter its position in a longitudinal
direction, till compression takes place at the abutments,
and extension of the various ties.
“ This arch-like property of the diagonal frame not only
opposes an alteration of position in a longitudinal direction,
but also resists external pressure on the bottom, either
from grounding or any other cause, because no impression
can be made in its figure in these directions without
forcing the several parts of which it is composed into a
shorter space.”
The trussing here proposed for the hold of the ship was
undoubtedly with the intention of introducing the principle
of the inverted arch or dome ; and it must be remembered,
that the general form of the vessels to which Sir Robert
SHIP-BUILDING. 191
actical Seppings was accustomed approached that of a hemisphere
aiding, at their midship section, and was very different from the
comparatively flat or plain surfaces now common. Any
lower ranges of riders and trusses brought on the floors
and first futtocks could have little effect in preventing
arching beyond that which arises from the additional re¬
sistance they offer to deflexion by their rigidity. In men-
of-war with several decks above the lower deck, the object
aimed at seems to have been to obtain a firm base on which
to ground a new and upper series of diagonal ties and
struts. It will be evident from these remarks, that it is
not considered that the bottom of a ship, if filled-in solid,
and made as little compressible as possible by this means,
and by the introduction of additional or sister keelsons,
requires any great expenditure of material or labour, in
order to adapt a system of diagonal trussing to it. The
position for its most beneficial application is undoubtedly
the sides of the vessel, but whether struts or ties be used,
there must be a proper starting point for their ends. In
wooden vessels of ordinary construction, this would, per¬
haps, be found to be in the sister keelson, nearest the
wing, or in the thick strakes or riders brought on at the
head and heels of the floors and first futtocks. The im¬
portance of these last in resisting any strain, if the ship
takes the ground and rests on her bilge, is also evident;
and it would therefore be advantageous to increase their
strength with this view, even if there existed no other
reason. Having determined a base or starting point for
the lower ends of the diagonals, the next point to be at¬
tended to is to determine a strong line of work to which
to attach their upper ends. Where intermediate decks
occur the diagonals must either be carried past them in
one continued line, or a new system be commenced and Practical
carried on from that line. In this case the strain on the Building,
parts may become such that the direction of the ties and
struts may require to be changed. While diagonals are
useful as a means of firmly connecting the adjacent pieces
of timber, it must be remembered that this is a small por¬
tion of their value, and that full advantage will not be
ensured from them without due consideration being given
to keep up an unbroken system of sides and of diagonals,
with their ends firmly united. It is immaterial whether
parallelograms or triangles be used, if the last side of the
one be always made the first side of the next. A triangle
is a valuable form in structures of this kind, because it is a
figure which admits of no alteration in its form ; its angles
are invariable as long as the sides remain the same, that is,
as long as they are neither elongated nor shortened.
These principles are becoming more and more appre¬
ciated every day, and the strength of ships is consequently
becoming much increased.
In the government service the diagonals, which extend Diag°nal.
over the surface of the side of the ship, are of iron-bars, m
varying according to the size of the ship, and also of wood. ment
The annexed wood-cuts represent and show portions of the vessels,
side of a two-decked ship, the diagonal riders of iron passing
up between the ports (figs. 36 and 37). They com¬
mence under the thick strakes over the first and lower fut-
tock-heads, and run up unbroken to the shelf of the upper-
deck. On the turn of the bilge, where it is most rounding,
and where the ship would rest if she took the ground,
there is a system of wooden trusses introduced to stiffen
the vessel at that spot, which has before been stated to be
so desjrable an object.
192
Practical
Building.
Details
of ship
Schom-
berg, by-
Messrs Hall
and Co., of
Aberdeen.
Sheathing.
Beams.
SHIP-BUILDING.
such weights and strains as those to which a ship is liable,
lies mainly in the top and bottom, and not in individual
portions of the sides. A lattice, or trellis girder, is nothing
Fig. 37.
without the top and bottom bars uniting the lattice or trellis
works. If a weight is to be supported by ties, there must
be something to carry their upper ends without yielding;
and if it is to be supported by struts, there must be a sound
and unyielding foundation for them to rest upon, and from
which they may rise.
Messrs 'Hall and Co., of Aberdeen, carry out the prin¬
ciple to a great extent in the vessels built by them.
The following is a general description of the Schom-
berg (Plate III.), as built by them, in 1854, for James
Baines and Co., of Liverpool, and many valuable hints may
be gained from the practice of these eminent builders.
She was expressly7 designed for an Australian passenger-
ship, and every attention was paid to render her ventilation
complete:—
Her register measurement was 2400 tons; her frames
were of British oak, 4£ feet from centre to centre, close-
jointed and bolted, and her sheathing consisted of four
thicknesses of 2£ inch Scotch larch, first two courses worked
diagonally at an angle of 45° passing under the bottom of
inside keel, and up the opposite side; the third course also
passed under the keel, and was laid on transversely, same
as the frames; there was a similar course worked inside be¬
tween the frames, each course having a layer of felt, and a
coat of Archangel tar, between them. The outside lon¬
gitudinal planking averaged 6 inches in thickness, and the
whole mass was combined by screw treenails of African oak,
If inches diameter, put through the whole, there being one
treenail at every foot in each strake of plank.
She had three tiers of malleable iron-beams, there being
one attached to each frame on each side of the three decks,
as shown in the transverse section (PI. III.) These beams
were laid on pitch pine stringers, which were in two depths, Practical
and were attached to the sides by iron staple knees, a piece Building,
of plate-iron passing betwixt the beam end and the frame,
and these plates being connected with the knees by the
throat-bolts passing through them, and thus forming a
lodgment for the iron beam ends. There was also a malleable
iron-plate, 16 x f inches, riveted to the top angle-irons on
the beams ; to this plate the water-ways were secured, besides
being bolted horizontally. The sizes of the beams were:—
Upper deck, 7xJ width, 2^x2J inches in single iron.
Middle deck, 8xf 3 inches angle iron.
Lower deck, do. do. do.
The beams were in one length ; the lower edge with a bulb,
and upper edge with angle-irons, back to back. They were
supported by three tiers of iron stanchions, riveted to the
beams, and bolted to the keelson and sister-keelsons.
For ventilation, the spaces, 3 feet wide, between the
frames, were boarded up, and formed excellent ventilators
from the various decks and hold, leading up to a space im¬
mediately under the main rail, which was fitted all round
with Venetians. She was also fitted with large funnels,
and with a fanner for forcing the air down to the keel, be¬
sides scuttles on every six feet on the middle deck. The
saloon was on the upper deck, and was fitted with a double
roof for causing a current of air, with orifices all round
under the cornice outside.
The vessel having a great rise of floor, it was levelled off
inside to the 5 feet water-line, by having a fourth deck laid
from end to end, and under this deck tanks were fitted to
hold 300 tons of fresh water. Along the upper deck, from
saloon forward, there was a range of houses for live stock,
cook-house, and accommodation for the crew. This vessel
sailed from Liverpool for Australia in 1854, drawing 21' 6"
forward and 24' 6" aft, and on the eighty-fourth day was
lost on Cape Otway, on a fine moonlight night. No
favourable opportunity occurred during the passage to test
her speed for any continued length of time; but she attained,
on one occasion, a speed of sixteen knots for a few hours.
This ship, complete, cost L.45,000.
The annexed figures are further illustrations of the de¬
tails of construction adopted by the same builders.
Fig. 38 a.
Fig. 38 6.
A section of a clipper ship, of 700 tons burthen, The
Vision, of Liverpool, built in 1854, is given in fig. 39.
The larboard side represents the bolting in the frames,
n
193
Practical
Building.
SHIP-BUILDING.
which-are 4§ feet asunder from centre to centre. The
starboard side shows the application of the screw-treenails
in connecting the various layers of plank, which cohsist of Practical
two thicknesses of 2-inch larch worked diagonally, as shown Building.
Fig. 89.
in figs. 38 a and 38 one thickness of larch worked verti- worked longitudinally, the sheer-strakes of East India teak,
cally, and one outside, of an average thickness of inches, top sides Dantzic red pine, Wales, and to light water-line of
Dantzic imported plank, from thence to the keel-strakes between the planks, which are all coated with vegetable
of Dantzic red pine, with two complete layers of hair felt tar.
von. xx. 2 n
194
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical Fig. 38 a represents an outside longitudinal section of the
Building. s;de planking fastened with screw-treenails; and %• 3-6
W-' represents a vertical section of the same, with the felt be¬
tween and the metal bolting m the frames. . . .
Ficr. 40 represents the mode of laying the diagonal plank-
in- of the deck under the longitudinal upper-deck planks.
Details of A cursory view will now be taken of a tew of the leading
iron-ships, features in L construction of iron-ships, and of the mode
of formin- and uniting some of the principal parts; and the
specifications, in full, to which two first-class steamships
have been built, will then be given. ,
The keel is sometimes formed of a single bar, with the
floors crossing above it, and united to the floors by being
riveted to the garboard strake. It is more frequently formed
of a plate, sufficiently deep to form both the keel and the
centre plate of the keelson, or of a box form. Specimens
of these forms of keel will be found in the engravings. A
box-keel may also be made thus (fig. 41):—
Keel.
bottom of the vessel; and as additional height is occupied Practical
by placing the keelson above them, there does not appear Building,
to be sufficient grounds for adopting this system in pre-
ference to the other.
With any side or sister-keelsons this is different, as it Side or
would be inconvenient to break the floors or frames again, sister-keel-
In cases where such sister-keelsons are to be tised assons-
engine or boiler bearers, it would much improve their
strength, and they would be better fitted to receive any
such weights to be bedded upon them, if the plates were
double, and they were brought up above the top of the
floors, and formed into a box-keelson, thus (fig. 42). The
Keelson.
5
o o o(
1 1J ’■
'Hr
L JL J
Fig. 41.
The points, in addition to general strength, which require
attention, are, that if the keel be injured by the vessel taking
the ground, it shall cause as little damage as possible to the
vessel itself. A keel should also be capable of being varied
in strength, so that it may be made stronger at the heel of
the stern-post, where the bottom of the rudder is attached
to it. It will be observed that this latter point is parti¬
cularly attended to in the vessel for the Peninsular and
Oriental Company.
In the keel, according to the sketch shown above, it will
be observed that the plating is carried right across it, so
that it might be very much injured, and probably even
torn away in parts, without causing any leak into the ship,
its edge being made purposely weaker than the bottom
plate to which it is attached. Cross-plates with flanges, or
with angle-iron, may be riveted across it, at any distance
that may be desired, so as to stiffen it; and the plates can
be made thicker, or additional strengthening plates may be
added inside or outside the side-plates, at the stern-post, or
at the forefoot.
The keelson is generally formed in one or other of
the manners shown on the sections; and the floors may
be carried across the bottom of the vessel, and the keel¬
son be placed upon the top of the floors, following the
same arrangement as in wooden vessels. In the latter
case the side-plates of the keelson should be the whole
depth of the floors, in addition to the height of the keelson
above them, a space for each frame being cut out of the
lower part of the plate to allow it to pass down between
the frames, and be attached to the bottom by short pieces
of angle-iron, as specified for the side keelsons of the Aus¬
tralasian, and shown in the section of that vessel at HH.
There does not appear to be any particular advantage
gained by the floor being made continuous across the
Fig. 42.
angle-irons of the keelson lying on the floors, and attached
to them as they pass, stiffen them, and will tend to prevent
their buckling or bending sideways when a great strain
from the outside is brought upon them.
Where the floors abut on each side of the centre keelson,
there is no reason why they should be the same height as
the top of the keelson ; and if the top or covering plate of
the keelson be put on with external angle-iron (as shown
in the above sketch) for a sister-keelson, great facilities are
given for taking off the plate at any time for repair, or to
renew any of the rivets. Indeed, there is no reason why
different lengths of the covering plate should not be put on
with screw-bolts, care being taken that the bolts fill the
holes correctly.
The floors are generally composed of an angle-iron, to Floors,
which the external plating is attached, and a plate of any
depth that may be desired, with single or double angle-
iron on the inner edge of this plate. For the frames two
angle-irons riveted back to back are generally sufficient.
A T-shaped iron is also sometimes used, and if made with
the centre web very deep, so as to be similar to the bulb-
iron used for deck beams, it would be suitable for vessels
of great strength, and, in some cases, for the floors with a
single or double angle-iron on its inner edge.
Some of the forms of beams have already been described. Beams.
Beams formed of bulb-iron, with two angle-irons, are de¬
cidedly the most convenient, as there is no difficulty in
welding them up in a common smith’s fire to any length
that may be required; and the top edge may be cut so as
to vary the depth, and this even in the same beam if
desired. By doing this the lower edge of the beam might
be made straight, so as not to follow the round-up of the
deck and of the upper edge; and thus any slight elonga¬
tion of the beam, when brought down or straightened by
any weight or strain, and the pressure to force out the
sides of a ship consequent upon this, as dreaded by some,
would be obviated.
The forms of bulb-iron, as generally rolled, do not give
nearly so large a proportion of iron in the bulb as would be
desirable. It is not consistent with the proper proportion
of the flanches of beams, in reference to their depths, as
laid down by Mr Fairbairn and other authorities on the
subject.
SHIP-BUILDIN G.
195
Practical For beams 8, 12, 18, and 24 inches deep, proportions
Building, may be adopted according to the annexed four figures. The
Pig. 43.
tI|
I 8
CM
Pig. 45.
Pig. 46.
breaking weights of these beams, at the distances of 10
feet, 15 feet, 20 feet, and 30 feet between the supports,
are respectively 10, 15^-, 21, and 22 tons. The thickness
of the webs may be considered by many to be too thin, but
a beam of the annexed figure (fig. 47) is given by Mr Fair-
bairn as one much used by him, with a distance of 30 feet
between the supports, and it may therefore be taken as a
standard pattern. Where a saving of depth is a great ob¬
ject, the proportions may be varied. The relative strengths
and weights of such beams, in comparison with ordinary wood
beams, may be easily obtained by the rules which have been
given.
Of the desirability of introducing iron-beams into wooden
vessels there can be no doubt. Their durability albne
ought to be a sufficient inducement.
Beams are now being welded up to any lengths by a
process patented by Mr Bertram, late of Woolwich dock¬
yard. The edges to be welded are brought together, and
two jets of gas are made to play upon both sides at the
same time till the iron is brought to a welding heat, when
it is united in a most perfect and satisfactory manner.
Jtieathing increase 0f thickness in the plates of iron-vessels
or p a mg. a(jt|g tQ ^ sapety an[j generai strength of the vessel in a
much more important degree than putting the additional
weight into the frames to strengthen them. A large sur¬
face of unequal strength in different parts is objectionable ;
it will be sure to yield at the line where the weak and the
strong parts meet, and probably a rupture may take place Practical
along that line ; but if the surface be all of nearly equal Building,
strength, and a pressure be then in- v—
applied, as may be the case on  ~*1 _
the exterior of a vessel, it may ^
yield, and the indentation may be
extensive without any rupture.
The subject of riveting has al- Wj} i Riveting,
ready been fully treated, when giv¬
ing the details of Mr Fairbairn’s
experiments on the strength of
riveted joints. Mr Bertram’s pro¬
cess, as adapted for the welding
of beams, and by which one or
more experimental boilers have
already been constructed, is also
proposed for the purpose of unit¬
ing the plates of iron-ships, and
there do not appear to be any
reasons to prevent it from becom¬
ing available after more experi¬
ence in its use has been obtained.
The same remarks, with regard
to decks, apply to iron-ships as to
wooden ships ; but iron has been g
more used as diagonal and longi¬
tudinal stringers under the deck-
planks in the former than in the latter class of vessels.
In the accompanying sections of a vessel constructed
to the design of Mr Bowman of London (fig. 48), the iron¬
plating below the deck-planks is shown, and it is laid com¬
plete over the whole surface beneath the deck-planks. The
water-ways, or pieces for forming the run of the water at
the sides to the scuppers, it will also be observed, are of
iron, which is not usual, but it is an important improve¬
ment, and a step in the right direction of greater deck-
strength. At the risk of its being considered a repetition,
reference is again made here to the importance of this
point, as the strength of an iron-vessel may be compared
more easily than that of a wooden one, with the strength
of iron tubular bridges. As has been before observed, the
severest strain to which a vessel is likely to be exposed is
when it is supported in the middle, and the two ends are
left unsupported. As a familiar illustration of the mode of
dealing with this subject, a vessel in this position may be
looked upon as a beam supported at the middle, and
weighted at the two ends, or, which is the same thing, as a
beam pushed up in the middle and prevented from rising
by the weights, or by being fixed at the two ends. And
if this beam be now supposed to be turned upside down,
or reversed, and then to be subjected to the same strains
upon it as before, it becomes equivalent to a beam sup¬
ported at the two ends and weighted at the middle, and
all the calculations for beams or tubular bridges so weighted
immediately become applicable. It will thus be seen that
the bottom of the ship has to bear a strain of compression
as due to the top, or top flanche of the tubular bridge, and
the deck has to bear a strain of extension as due to the
bottom or bottom flanche. The keel and keelsons, and the
internal and external plates of the bottom, supported, or
rather stiffened and kept in the direct line of the strain, by
being attached at such short intervals to the floors, duly meet
the case of the top flanche, and give the requisite strength ;
and the deck of tbe ship, and the strengthening pieces con¬
nected with it, must be made equal to meet the strain of
extension, to which the bottom flanche of the beam is sub¬
jected. Let a vessel be supposed to be of the length of
300 feet, with a depth of 30 feet, and the weight of fittings,
machinery, and everything which she has to carry to be
1500 tons, which may be assumed to be nearly correct for
a passenger screw steam-ship of this length,—and let it be
SHIP-BUILDING,
196
Practical
Building.
Fig. 48.
SHIP-BUILDING.
197
practical farther supposed that the weights are equally distributed
Building, over her length, then the strain would require to be the
same as for a tubular bridge, or girder, to carry a weight
of 750 tons at the middle. Now, if the ordinary rules be
applied, it will be found that the sectional area of the bottom
flanche of a box-girder of these dimensions, and whose
breaking weight is 750 tons, would be 94 square inches;
and doubling this for the excess of strength necessary in
practice, will give an area of 188, or say 200 square inches
of iron. The strength of the deck, therefore, at the middle,
should be equal to the strength of iron-bars or plates of this
sectional area, and towards the ends it may be diminished
to about two-thirds of this strength, on the same principle
and in the same manner as the flanches of a beam may be
diminished.
An explanation of the theory of the strength of girders
is not within the province of this article. It will be found
very fully treated in the works of Tredgold, Hodgkinson,
Barlow, Fairbairn, Latham and others, as also in some
papers in the Transactions of the Institution of Civil Engi¬
neers, and in a paper in the Transactions of the Royal So¬
ciety, by Mr Barlow, “ On the position of the Neutral Axis.”
Water- While the advantages of iron water-tight bulkheads are
tight bulk- unquestionable, nothing can be worse than that the sheath-
heads. jng ghould be weakened in one direct transverse line by a
series of rivets, placed so close together as to lessen the
strength of the plates in an undue degree at that line.
The Board of Trade insist upon the bulkheads being
attached to two frames, but it is not apparent how the dif¬
ficulty is got over by this means alone, because on one or
other of these frames the rivets must be sufficiently close
to make the joint water-tight. This would be advantageous
if the bulkhead were made to run home to the side of the
ship, and be made water-tight there by an additional angle-
iron, while the two frames on either side are united together
through the bulkhead, so as to prevent the vessel sepa¬
rating along the line of weakness between them. In this
view the inner line of plates uniting the frames to the bulk¬
head should be kept as close as possible to the ship’s side,
and therefore as much as possible in the direct line of the
strain to be resisted.
The following is a specification of an iron screw-steam-
ship for the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation
Company:—
Principal Dimensions.
Plates.—Garboard-strake, plates, as broad as can be procured, practicai
or worked; bottom-plates next plates up to the wales , from Buildintr
the wales to gunwale except two plates, 2 feet 6 inches wide,
if thick, or one plate equal to this to form the wales; the sheer
Length between the perpendiculars 335 feet.
Length of the keel for tonnage ( accorc^ing- to
° l approved design.
Breadth, extreme 39 feet.
Depth amidships (from top of keel)   31 „
Burthen in tons, Nos 2520. o. m.
Keel.—To be formed of plates, as shown in figs. 51 and 52,
the centre through-piece to be 3 feet 6 inches deep from bottom of
keel to top of floors, and ff thick right fore and aft. The plate on
each side to be 10 inches deep by 1J inches thick. The fore and
aft plate shown on top of floors to be f in. thick, and 2 feet 6
inches wide, worked so as to fit on top of floors, and connected to
centre through-piece by two angle-irons 4 x 4 x Vg-. The after¬
end of keel to have an angle-iron 6 X 4 on each side, and a plate
£ in. thick on the bottom, to run for 50 feet from the aftermost
stern-post.
Stem.—To be made of plate in exactly the same manner as the
keel, the plate on each side the centre through-piece to gradually
taper to 9£ inches deep at the top, and all the bow-frames to be
riveted to it.
Breast-hooks.—As may be required.
Stern-posts.—15 inches broad by 7 inches thick, and a heel left on
the after-side to bear the rudder, with eyes for the pintles, and
turned so as to form a knee forward on the keel. The screw-port
to be forged in one piece to suit the drawing, or as the engineer
may require.
Frames.—Of angle-iron, 5£ x 4 x and 20 inches from centre
to centre. In engine and boiler spaces, the frames to be doubled in
the bottom, and a reverse angle-iron on every frame, 4 X 3 X t8^,
from floor to gunwale, the whole length of the vessel.
strake, thick, to be doubled right fore and aft, and butt-straps
inside, as in single plates, all double riveted from keel to gunwale,
and all butts to be flush; the upper or sheer-strake to go 12 inches
above top of water-way, as per sketch. All spaces formed by the
projections of the plates to be fitted with liners, so as to avoid small
198
SH1P-BUILDIN G.
Practical pieces and rings being used, except in the case of tne sheer and
Building upper wale-strakes, which will be doubled, and the inner strake
will necessarily form the liner. The butts to be perfectly close as
v well as the seams, as no pieces will be allowed to be put in and
caulked over. The counter-sinking to be carefully done and all
rivets to be full and smooth outside plates, and to be chipped down
while hot. The greatest care to be taken in the punching, to pre¬
vent unfair holes.
Floors.—30 inches deep in engine and boiler spaces of plates,
with angle-iron, 4£ x 3 X TV, on each side, on top of every floor, to
run from 14 to 16 feet up the turn of bilge. The floors in after¬
hold, 30 inches deep, thick, with single angle-iron on top, 4£ x
3 x t73.. The floor-plates to run 6 feet up the turn of bilge on
each side of frames in one piece.
Keelsons.—As may be required, and to suit the engineer’s draw¬
ings, to run right fore and aft as far as the form of vessel will
allow.
Pillars.—In holds between keelsons and beams, to be 3J inches
in diameter amidships, tapering to 2J at the ends. One on every
beam, or as may be directed. Pillars on main-deck, one on every
other beam, arranged so as to suit the cabin plan.
Bulkheads.—Water-tight; one in fore-peak, two before the en¬
gine, one abaft the boilers, and one in after-hold; to be in accord¬
ance with the Board of Trade regulations in every respect. To
have iron-bulkheads, or floors, on every frame from stern-post for
40 feet, and on every frame from stem for 20 feet, the after ones
§• inch thick, the foremost £ inch. Those abaft the aftermost water-
tight bulkhead to run up to the lower-deck water-way plate, and
an angle-iron on the top of each, with a water-tight deck, riveted
to the same. The lower-deck water-way plate will run through
these bulkheads, as well as the water-way forming part of the practical
deck. Proper man-holes, cut through each floor above the shaft, Building
  , • i i   V, /-.I /-v /-I /-»/-\vi o f- f rl 4- 4- Vi i rt 4- •
and sufficient water-tight man-hole doors, fitted to the holes in the
iron-deck The floors before the water-tight bulkhead to run up
as far above the shaft as may be required. Every other bulkhead,
the length of screw-shaft, to have a forged iron-rim, 3 inches wide,
1 inch thick, riveted
round shaft-space. The
hole for shaft to be
drilled from after-end
through all these by
the engineers. All wa¬
ter-tight bulkheads to*
be fitted with approv¬
ed brass sluice-valves.
The space below the
screw-shaft, abaft the
aftermost water-tight
bulkhead, to be filled-
in solid with bricks and
cement. Iron-tie bulk¬
heads to be placed, as
directed, between main
and spar-decks, about
20 feet apart.
Beams.—Of plate, 10
X iV> with two angle-
irons on top, 3J- x 2J
X /g-. Beams not to be
turned at the ends, but
to have a vertical and
horizontal plate, rivet¬
ed to under side of
beams and side-frames,
with an angle-iron in
the angle, and to be
finished on the lower
edge, with half-round
iron, as may be requir¬
ed. An angle-iron on
each alternate frame,
for main and lower
decks, with as many in
the engine and boiler
spaces as the position
of the machinery will
allow. To have orlop-
beams and a deck to
allow of such accommo¬
dation for stores as may
be required (fig. 53).
Engine-beams as the
engineers may direct.
Eight of the foremost
beams to be made of an
elliptical shape, turned
down 2 feet 6 inches
to strengthen the bow,
and likewise for the
hawse-pipes to pass
through. The plate to
be twice the thickness
of the other beams.
Stringers.—An angle-iron, 6x4, all round the gunwale, with
two covering plates, the outside one 18 X the insicle one
24 X It) riveted to gunwale stringer, and upper side of deck-beams,
and 6 inches apart, to allow for pipes or scuppers to pass through
the first plank from water-way, which is to be East India teak
(figs. 54 and 55). The same on main and lower decks. The
lower-deck plates to run right through engine-room and boiler
space, and to have in that space an angle-iron top and bottom,
and to be from the foremost to the aftermost midship water-tight
bulkhead in engine-room If. Two midship deck-plates, of the
same dimensions as the inside gunwale stringer, to run right fore
and aft, full length of vessel, on each side of engine-room sky¬
light, and riveted to upper side of deck-beams. To have at least
6 diagonal spar-deck plates, 12 x riveted on top of all these
stringers, to tie the sides of the vessel together, to be placed as may
be required (fig. 56). The butts of all these fore and aft stringers
to be placed so that the whole of them come on beams, and to have a
butt-strap to each butt 12 inches in width, and a row of rivets on
each side of the edge of the beams. A vertical stringer, 2 feet 2 inches
wide, thick, to run round the main-deck at back of spirketting,
and to be connected to side deck-plate, or horizontal stringer, by
Practical
Building.
SHIP-BUILDING.
199
an angle-iron, 6 x 4 x All these fore and aft stringers and
deck-plates to run fore and aft, and not to be disconnected or cut
through anywhere, and all water-tight bulkheads, beams, or any
athwartship work to be cut round them, and all to terminate at each
end in plate-breasthooks of J in. thicker plate than the stringers, and
to run out as far from either
end as may he required. A
bilge-stringer, formed of two
angle-irons, 6 X 4 x with
a plate at back 18 x fa-! fas¬
tened to frames to run right
fore and aft the ship. All
stringers, vertical and hori¬
zontal, water-way plates, &c.,
to be doubled for 30 feet in
way of cargo gangways.
Riveting.—The vessel to be
all double riveted with £
rivets, except in keel and
stern-post, which must be ^th
inch thicker than the plates
they pass through.
Other Iron Work.—Iron
casing round boiler space and
stoke-hole, between main and
upper-decks, likewise all coal-
bunker bulk-heads (except
what forms part of the en¬
gineer’s contract). Coal-shoots
and deck-plates for them, flat
in bunker-bottoms, casing of
bunkers, engine-beams, screw-
tunnel, iron gratings over
stoke-hole on upper deck, ash-
bucket pipe from stoke-hole to
spar-deck, with revolving cap
on top, to be furnished by the
contractors. A water-tight
slide, at foremost end of screw-
tunnel, to be fitted in accord¬
ance with the Board of Trade
regulations. Preparation to
be made for a lifting-screw on
the most approved principles.
The engineer to furnish all
slides and lifting apparatus.
Topgallant Forecastle.—To
be in accordance with the draw¬
ing given both in length and
height, to be plated up from
sheer-strake to top with f iron-
plates, and to be fitted up in¬
side as may be directed. A
manger, 3 feet deep, to be
fitted forward, with 4 hawse-
pipes, bucklers, plates, and all
complete, as may be required
by the company. The deck to
be 3 inches thick, with iron-
stancheons, and rails round the
top-beams, 8 X TV; bulb-iron,
Fig. 56.
with 2 angle-irons on top, 3 x 3 x A- A water-closet on each side,
the aftermost end outside, with pumps, and all complete for the
crew.
Inside Cement.—The vessel to be filled up solid to the limber-
holes with Portland cement.
Quality of Iron.—Garboard-strake, sheer-strake, and longitudi¬
nal stringers, of Staffordshire B. B., of an approved maker, all the
other plates of Staffordshire B., except curves, which are to be the
best Lowmoor, or of iron made from best picked scrap equal to
this.
Wood Work and General Outfit.
Upper or Spar Beck.—East India teak 3J inches thick, secured
to beams by two |-inch galvanized iron bolts and nuts, let in fths
of an inch below the surface, and dowelled with wood. - The mid¬
ship’s deck-strakes to be 1 inch thicker, and to run fore and aft, or
as may be required.
Main Beck.—Yellow pine 6x5, caulked and secured with iron
bolts and nuts as upper deck.
Lower Beck.—Yellow pine 9 x 3£, caulked and secured with iron
bolts and nuts as above.
Stancheons.—Teak or British oak 6x5. Stern timbers of the
same 7x6, and to run well down, to give strength to the stern. Practical
All the other stancheons to run down on top of spar-deck, water- Building,
way plate through covering-board, and the space between under¬
side of covering-board, and top of water-way to be filled in solid
and caulked, and a piece of teak-spirketting inside of stancheon,
bolted through and through, from outside of iron sheer-strake,
except in those stancheons which come in way of boats’ davits,
which will have an angle iron knee to turn under water-way, in¬
side of bulwarks, well riveted to water-way plate. Oak or teak
spirketting 18 x 9, to run right round the main-deck inside, on top
of water-ways.
Awning Stancheons.—Of iron, all round the vessel.
Water-ways.—Upper or spar deck, and main deck, to be East
India teak 18 x 9, and, if required, to be fitted over the angle-iron
stancheons.
Ceiling of Hold.—Flat of floor laid with 3-inch American elm,
and from that to be ceiled with yellow pine, room and space to
the main deck beams. The remainder to be 2-inch close futline,
caulked, payed, and beaded over seams, as will be pointed out.
Bulwarks.—Yellow pine 3 x 2£ thick, and to have a panel
grooved in the centre.
Main-Rails.—Teak, 12 x 4J ; to have copper or yellow metal
along the edge outside, fore and aft.
Gangways.—To be where shown on plan—viz. four cargo-gang¬
way ports with all doors, brass scuttles, hanging platform to turn
outside or inside as may be required, between main and upper
decks, lined in sill and edges, with twenty ounces copper or yel¬
low metal. Two passenger gangways on upper deck, fitted with
the most approved accommodation-ladders complete, with all neces¬
sary fittings. Four coaling gangways on upper deck, fitted with
doors complete; also hanging brackets riveted on ship’s side, to
carry stage when required. The ends of rough-tree-rail and gang¬
ways to be capped with a casting of brass.
Catheads.—British or African oak, 18 x 16, mounted with all
stoppers, cleats, &c., as may be required.
Bitts.—Of British or African oak, 22 x 22, stepped on keelson.
Towing bitts, topsail-sheet bitts, belaying pin-racks, cleats, eye-
bolts, timber-heads, &c., to be fitted as and where required.
Bridge.—To be 5 feet 6 inches wide, to be supported with suf¬
ficient iron stancheons, and fitted with ladders, lamp-boxes, hand¬
rails, and all complete, as may be required.
Masts.—Lower mast and bowsprit of iron or steel as may be ap¬
proved, and a provision to be made for cutting them away if
required, the other masts and spars to be of black spruce or red
pine, to be rigged according to plan.
Rigging.—Standing rigging of wire-rope, the rest of best hemp,
with all requisite blocks. All blocks to be brass-bushed, or patent
leather bushes, as may be preferred; all dead eyes, both upper and
lower, to be made of lignum vitae; if required the vessel to be
fitted with Cunningham’s patent self-reefing topsails.
Storm-House.—To be built at after-end of upper deck, with two
two-berth cabins on each side of wheel, with a water-closet in each,
and fitted up inside in every respect as first-class cabins. The top
of this house, as well as those of all other cabins and oflSces on the
upper deck, to be double; the upper one teak, the lower one pine,
covered with canvass.
Companions and Skylights.—To be built according to plan. The
tops of all of them on the upper deck to be made of East India
teak.
Boats—To be in accordance with the Board of Trade regula¬
tions, and to be fitted complete, with masts, sails, oars, boat-hooks,
breakers, gratings, davits for ship’s sides, and all necessary fittings
as may be required ; brass rowlocks to mail-boat j life-boats to be
according to Lamb and White’s plan.
Fowl-Coops.—Twelve ; 12 feet by 2 feet 4 inches high.
Sheep Pens.—To hold forty sheep.
Scuppers.—Eight on each side on each deck, to be placed where
shown.
Fish-Bavits.—For fishing anchors to be fitted, as will be shown.
Anchors and Chain Cables.—In proportion to tonnage of vessel,
the anchors to be patent, or as required by the Board of Trade re¬
gulations.
Winches.—Two; if steam, the difference in price to be paid by
the company.
Sails.—One suit of sails complete.
Tarpaulins.—One for each hatch and scuttle.
Awnings.—A complete set, fore and aft.
Pumps.—One copper chambered pump 8 inches in diameter, with
brass bucket and lead pipe, fitted in every compartment, and a
7 inch and a 5-inch Downton, fitted as may be directed.
Wheels.-—Two of mahogany, brass-mounted, hide-rope, fitted with
patent steering gear complete.
Fenders.—With chains, &c., complete.
Ports.—Of East India teak, 21 inches square, with a 5-inch brasa
200
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical
Building.
scuttle fitted in the centre of each, hung with strong iron hinges,
brass-bushed, and copper pins, except where shown round in plan,
as in water-closets or other deck-offices, where scuttles must be
fitted, 7 inches in diameter, of the best manufacture.
Water-Closets.—Tylor’s of Newgate Street to be fitted where
shown on plan, with cisterns, pipes, valves, and all necessary
fittings.
Baths. Hot, cold, and shower, to be fitted where shown on plan.
Tanks. For 12,000 gallons of water, with all requisite cocks,
pumps, pipes, and all necessary fittings.
Binnacles. Two, with adjusted compasses and lamps complete.
Brass Bell.—18 inches in diameter, with vessel’s name engraved
thereon.
Cook-Houses.—Two of iron, with all necessary fittings complete.
Cooking and Baking Apparatus—With all necessary utensils
complete, as may be required to be furnished by the company.
Colours.—A complete set as may be required.
Life-Buoys.—Six of such description as may be required.
Lanterns.—Signal-lanterns and fittings to be fitted where re¬
quired—viz., 2 bridge, 1 mast-head.
Buckets.—Twelve wash-deck and twelve leather buckets, with
the company’s crest and ship’s name painted thereon.
Hose.—Leather fire-hose and canvass-hose for washing decks,
with the necessary couplings complete.
Capstans.—Two; the foremost, or main capstan, to be one of
Brown’s patent double-headed capstans, to work on top of topgal¬
lant forecastle, with all the bitts, stoppers, &c., fitted complete on
spar-deck. The after one to be Brown’s patent double-power cap¬
stan for warping the ship, and to be fitted complete.
Meat-Safe and Vegetable Locker.—One of each to be made and
fitted, as will be shown.
Butcher's Shop.—To be where shown on plan, slate-tanks, and all
complete.
Cabins.—To be fitted according to plans furnished by the
company, arranged generally as the “ Pera” and “ Candia.” The
contractors to find everything complete, except saloon and fore-
cabin tables, seats, chairs, sideboards, sofas, bed and sofa mattresses,
curtains, camp-stools, glass, earthenware, plated goods and cutlery;
cabin-lamps and looking-glasses; pantry, steward’s and store¬
keeper’s utensils; but the contractor will find all the furniture and
fittings for all the cabins and offices in the ship, including first and
second class passengers, officer’s, engineer’s, steward’s, and any
other cabin in the ship, such as chests of drawers, washstands with
marble tops, tables, toilet-shelves, or any other fittings that may
be required; likewise all the different offices on deck, as shown in
plan, to be fitted complete, such as surgery, lamp-room, baker’s
shops, scullery, or any other office not named here, but shown on
plan. All the cabins in the ship to be fitted with Robinson’s
patent ventilating bulkheads, as per elevation.
Painting.—All the wood-work to have four coats. The main-
deck cabins, from the main hatch forward, to be grained oak in
the very best style. The main saloon to have at least six coats
of paint and two of best varnish, and the whole of the gilding to
be of the very best quality.
Mail-Room.—To be where shown on plan. Space for sixty tons
of mail, and to be lined with zinc all over. The bottom to have
ledges of wood, 3 x 2J, 12 inches apart, secured to deck.
Sail-Room.—To be where shown on plan, and to be covered over
with zinc.
Purser's Store-Rooms.—To be where shown on plan, and to be
fitted up inside as may be directed.
Boatswain and Carpenter's Store.—To be where shown on plan,
and to be fitted up as shall be directed.
Finally.—The whole of the material and workmanship to be of
the very best quality, and the vessel (with the foregoing excep¬
tions) to be entirely fitted and ready for sea at the cost of the
contractors, notwithstanding any omission in this specification,
and subject to the approval of the managing directors, or of
such surveyor or surveyors as they may appoint to inspect the
work.
The following is a copy of the specification of an iron
screw-steamship, built for the European and Australian
Royal Mail Company. The Australasian was built in
1857, by Messrs J. and G. Thompson, of Glasgow, under
the inspection of Mr Bowman, of London, who has
kindly permitted its publication here. The strength of
this vessel, and the soundness of the principles on which
she is constructed, were well proved by her grounding in
the Clyde, on her first passing down the river after being
launched, when she came off, as before stated, quite un¬
injured.
Specification of an Iron Screw-steamship to be built for Practical
the European and Australian Royal Mail Company. Building.
Principal Dimensions.
Ft. In.
Length of keel   310 0
Breadth of beam  42 0
Depth of hold to spar-deck  29 9
To have three decks, with full poop and full topgal- 1
lant-forecastle /
Height of poop  8 0
„ topgallant-forecastle  6 3
„ from main to spar-deck  8 6
Keel and Keelson.—The keel to be formed of three thicknesses of
plate; the centre plate to be 1 inch thick, and 45 inches deep;
forming, at same time, the main keelson and centre of keel; these
plates to be in as long lengths as possible, to be put together, butt-
jointed, with straps of same thickness, and double-riveted above
that part which forms a portion of the keel; the plates to run the
entire length of the vessel, and for 10 feet up the stem. The keel
side-plates to be 12 inches x 1J inch; to be in as long lengths as
can possibly be obtained; to be all scarphed on to each other,
scarphs 6 inches long; these three thicknesses of plate, to be par¬
tially riveted together before the garboard-strake is fitted on; the
garboard-strakes to be double-riveted to the keel with IJth inch
rivets; all the holes to be runneled out perfectly true before rivet¬
ing ; the butt of the keel-plates and garboard-strakes to be care¬
fully shifted and caulked, and made water-tight. (Section AB, fig.
59.)
Stern-post.—To be of best hammered scrap-iron in one piece, the
after-post to be 12 X 5 inches, the inner-post to be 12x7 inches ;
the lower portion, uniting the two posts, to be 12 x 8 inches;
and to have about 8 feet of keel attached to it, and with correspond¬
ing scarph for riveting to keel. The keel portion to be planed out
into a groove, 1 inch wide and 6 inches deep, into which the keel¬
son plate is to be worked, and double-riveted through and through.
The end of the keelson-plate to be secured to the inner post by two
vertical bars of angle-iron secured to it by rivets, and to the post
by tapped bolts (fig. 57). The inner post, at the line of the lower
Fig. 57. Fig. 58.
deck-stringer, to have a palm welded to it, which is to be firmly
riveted to the stringer, so as to give security to the post (fig. 58).
To be formed in the same way as the keel, from iron of the same
dimensions, and riveted together in the same way; the keel, keelson,
floors, stem, and stern-post to be according to sketch to be fur¬
nished.
Frames.—To be spaced throughout the vessel 18 inches apart from
centre to centre, of angle-iron, 4 x 3J x fth inch, to have a reverse
angle-iron on every frame, 4J x 3J x £ inch, riveted along the
top of the floor-plates, and up the frames, to the height of the'
upper deck-beams, by fth inch rivets, 6 inches apart (every alter¬
nate frame from main-deck may be left without reverse iron, a
piece being put in underneath the clamp-plate). Where desired, in
wake of boilers and engines, the frames and reverse bars to be
worked double.
Floors.—The floor-plates at keelson or amidships to be 33 inches
deep x fth inch thick ; to be carried up past the turn of bilge, say
to the 6 feet water-line, and riveted to the frames and reverse
angle-irons. The end of each floor, which butts against the keel¬
son, to have a vertical angle-iron, 5 x 3 x £ inch, riveted to the
floors and to the centre keelson, (section CD, fig. 59). Along each
side of the top of keelson-plate there will be angle-iron 5 x5 X fths.
riveted on a level with the top edge of keelson-plate and floors. A
SHIP-BUILDING.
201
2 G
VOL. XX.
Fig, 59.
202
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical
Building.
plate 36 x fth inch in engine-room, and 36 x ifths at ends of
vessel, in long lengths, will run the whole length of the vessel, and
be riveted to the angle-iron on top of keelson, and to the reverse
angle-irons of the floors; these plates to be built jointed, and
double riveted, section GG.
Keelsons—To have two side and two bilge keelsons, to he formed
of plates 30 inches broad x |th inch, riveted to the reverse frames.
On the centre of these plates there will he double angle-iron
6 x 3J X |th, riveted back to back, and to the plates.. From be¬
twixt these angle-irons there will pass down to the skin-plate £th
inch thick, the breadth regulated by the distance apart of the frames
and reverse angle-irons these plates to he riveted at the foot to
short pieces of angle-iron, secured to the skin, and at the top, be¬
twixt the floor angle-irons, section H. H., &c., &c.; to have inter¬
mediate keelsons for about 150 feet amidships, to he double angle-
iron 6 X 3£ x £th inch, riveted hack to back, and to the reverse
angle-irons on the floors, and to be connected to the outer skin,
same as the other keelsons, section H. H. The whole of the
stringers, main, bilge, and other keelsons, to pass unbroken through
the bulkheads, and to be made water-tight by strong brackets,
riveted to them, and to the bulkheads.
Plating.—Garboard-strcke to he fit- 1
ted close up to the frames }
Next strake to garboard (to gar- j
board) J
Thence to bilge 
Bilge-strake 
Thence to -wales 
Wales in two strakes 
Thence to sheer-strake 
Sheer-strake at least 36 in. broad
200 feet
Mid.
lin.
Aft.
1 in.
is-
f U
& A i
I i
& i7?
1 Z
The plating from keel to gunwale to he lap-jointed horizontally
with vertical flush-butts, with an internal strap of corresponding
thickness to the respective plates, 8 inches wide. The butt-straps
of the sheer, wale, or garboard-strakes to he cut across the thread of
the iron from plates, and to he TVth thicker than the plates to
which they are respectively fitted. All the plates which end on
screw-frames, and the next adjoining them on every strake, to be
not less than ^ths thick, and double riveted, with very great care,
to the stern-frame.
Riveting.—The keel, stem, stern-post, and all the longitudinal
seams of the plates, up to the spar-deck, to be double riveted. All
the butts throughout the ship to be double riveted. Double rivet¬
ing to have about eight rivets to the foot. The bar-rivets, through
frames and plates, to be spaced 6 inches apart, and the plating to
be wrought out and in fashion; the space between each alternate
strake, and the frame being filled with a solid sliver-piece closely
fitted ; all the rivets of keel, stem, and stern-post, to be IJth inch
diameter ; those passing through inch plates to be 1 inch ; through
£th plates, to be ifths; through |th plates, £th inch; remainder,
fth inch.
Caulking.—The whole of the seams and butts to be caulked in
the most careful manner, and made perfectly water-tight; and on
no account is any canvass, or red-lead, or like substance, to be in¬
serted in the seams, but all to be caulked throughout, metal to
metal.
Beams.—Main-deck beams, of patent bulb-iron, 10 x fth inch ;
upper and lower deck-beams, of patent bulb-iron, 9 x J inch, all
to be spaced on alternate frames ; the upper, main, and lower deck-
beams to have double, 3 x 3 X £ inch angle-iron, securely riveted
on top edge, with rivets 8 inches apart; all the beams to have suit¬
able knees, solid, 18 inches deep, for securing them to the frames,
formed by bending round the ends of the beams.
Stringers.—On the upper-deck, of plate, 42 x jj-ths amidships, and
i0^ths at end, with angle-iron 8 x3J X fth inch riveted to it, and
to the deck-beams, and double riveted to the sheer-strake on the
main and lower deck, of plate 36 X |-ths amidships, and ^j-ths at
end with angle-iron, 5 X 3 X fth inch, firmly riveted to the main
and lower deck-beams, and reversed angle-irons, 2 feet below the
main and upper deck-beams, to have a clamp-plate 18 X fth inch,
running the whole length of the vessel, and securely riveted to the
reverse angle-irons on the frames, by rivets spaced 4 inches apart.
All the butts to be double riveted.
Beck Trussing.—On the upper and main deck, on each side of
the hatches, to have a plate 244 inches, carried right fore and aft,
worked in lengths of 15 feet, with double-riveted butts, the whole
riveted to the beam angle-irons with ten rivets in each ; the whole
space from the outside edge of this to the inside edge of gunwale
stringer on the upper-deck to be filled in with plate, wrought in
long lengths, not less than 18 inches broad and a £-inch thick
(these plates may be f-inch, and cover a space equal in weight to
those plates specified).
All butt-jointed longitudinal straps single riveted, thwart straps
double riveted; the whole riveted to the beam angle-irons with
rivets spaced 4 inches apart.
Hold Stancheons.—From keelson to lower deck beams to have 34
inches round iron stancheons, riveted securely to the keelson-plate
and the beams; above these from lower deck to main deck to have
3 inches round iron stancheons, firmly secured to both tiers of
Practical
beams where necessary
Bulkheads.—'To have the number of water-tight bulkheads that
may be required by the company, fitted between double frames
and over keelson and stringers, supported by suitable bars of angle-
iron 4 x 3 X J, spaced 30 inches apart.
Bulkheads to he carried to main deck, and to be fitted in every
respect in accordance with the Board of Trade regulations. Be¬
tween the aftermost bulkhead, to which screw-propeller pipe is
attached, and the stern-post, to have fitted on every frame, up to the
height of lower-deck beams, a series of bulkheads formed of f-inch
plate, and firmly riveted to the frames, and secured on the top
with double angle-iron ; at this line breast-hooks, specified after¬
wards, are to be worked forwards to the pipe bulkhead, so as to
form an iron deck above these bulkheads specified, and to be
riveted to the double angle-iron on them. The hole for passing
stern-pipe through to be carefully arranged, so that no more than
necessary space is cut.
Rudder.—The stock to be 7f inches diameter, with turned pintles,
of best hammered scrap-iron, in one piece with the frames, and
plated with f ths plate.
Breasthooks and Crutches.—To be fitted at each deck, fore and
aft the ship, at the junction of the stringer plates ; bilge and side
keelson formed by riveting triangular plates about 9 feet long to
these fore and aft ties, so as to firmly unite the two sides of the
ship.
Mast-Partners.—On the various decks to be formed of materials
similar to the beams, and to bo securely riveted to them.
Gunwale Moulding.—To be formed of 6-inch half-round iron in
length, securely riveted to the upper edge of wale strake by rivets
about 8 inches apart.
Water-ways.—On main and low^er deck of red pine 4f inches
thick, and on the upper deck of East India teak 18 inches broad
by 9 inches thick, both securely bolted to the stringer plates by
two rows of bolts and nuts.
Becks.—To have three decks. Upper deck throughout where
exposed to be of best East India teak 3^ inches thick, to be secured
to the beams by bolts and nuts at every third beam, and with a
wood screw of best form on both sides of the alternate beams, the
whole to he planed true on the edges, top, and bottom before being
laid, and thoroughly caulked and payed with resin or pitch, as may
be directed by the company, and made perfectly water-tight;
main-deck to be of best seasoned Quebec yellow pine 3^- inches
thick, thoroughly secured to the beams by wood screws with bolts
in the butts, thoroughly caulked, payed and made water-tight;
lower-deck of 3 inches yellow pine to be similarly fitted.
Rails.—The rails to he of best East India teak of suitable
breadth, firmly bolted to stancheons, to be covered on the outside
and inside edge with 18 oz. yellow metal, firmly nailed; to have a
netting all round of best cordage, firmly secured to galvanised
iron rods on rail and water-way.
Bulwark Stancheons.—To be of East India teak, and to be fitted
into sockets formed of angle-iron, 7 X 3 X 3 ; these to be riveted
to the stringer plates at proper intervals for the stancheons, one
bolt through each socket and stancheon.
Hatch Coamings.—On main, upper, and lower decks, of East India
teak, of dimensions to suit the size of the hatches, and securely
bolted to the iron carlines ; to be protected by iron plates on sides
and top, and fitted with iron battens, cleats, and cutbands; on
upper decks to have teak skylights on the hatches.
Ceiling.—In fiat of floor in holds of 2J-inch elm, thence to hold
beams of 2-inch red pine from hold beams to main-deck beams,
and cabins and store-rooms of 1-inch yellow pine close seamed;
the ceilings to be bolted to reverse angle-irons with galvanised
screw-bolts.
Ports.—To have four gun-ports on each side, with flaps properly
arranged in netting, and fitted with ring-and-eye bolts as required.
Caiostands.—To have one of Brown’s patent capstands of suit¬
able size, placed forward, with patent chain-stoppers, and four
riding bitts complete for working cable ; in addition, to have a cast-
iron working capstand, with brass top on quarter-deck poop, both
complete, with all necessary bars.
Catheads.—Of British oak, with anchor stoppers, and all usual
fittings.
Bitts —To have at least five cast-iron mooring timber-heads on
each side, of suitable strength, properly bolted through wrater-ways
and stringer plates, with heavy chocks of hard wood timber below.
Hawse-pipes.—To have a strong cast-iron hawse-pipe on each bow,
SHIP-BUILDING.
203
Practical size t° su^ chains, firmly secured to the skin of the ship; also
Building, stern and side mooring pipes of cast-iron where required, and
v ] firmly secured.
Chain-Lockers.—To be built of wood where required.
Anchors and Chains.—To have anchors and chains; the chain
cables of best best iron, and to be tested to the government test.
Hemp-warps according to Lloyd’s rules.
Anchor-Davits.—To have two strong anchor-davits, with blocks
and falls complete for lifting anchors.
Pumps.—To have a pair of 6-inch Eedpath’s patent pumps in
each compartment, with lead-pipes and roses, and all the necessary
iron gearing for working.
Scuppers.—To have sufficient lead scuppers on upper and main
deck, well secured to ship’s side and water-ways.
Tanks.—To have suitable iron tanks made of quarter plates, cap¬
able of containing 10,000 gallons of water, with two fixed copper
pumps with brass boxes, lead pipes, and iron gearing complete for
working, and placed where required.
3£asts and Spars.—To be rigged as a ship, with one complete
set of masts and spars according to plan ; lower masts and bow¬
sprit of yellow, red, or pitch pine in one stick, or built and hooped
if necessary ; topmasts, lower and topsail yards, and jibboom to be
of red or pitch pine, the remainder of black spruce; to be all ac¬
cording to plan, and complete with all usual iron work of best
quality.
Rigging.—All the standing rigging to be of galvanised wire,
the running rigging to be of the best St Petersburg or Manilla
hemp and chain where required, chain of best best iron.
Blocks.—To have a complete set of iron and rope stropped
blocks of suitable sizes, the lower and topsail yards brace blocks,
topsail peak and throat haulyards, catblocks, &c.; to have Dalton’s
patent roller bushes in the sheaves, the standing rigging to be set
upon lignum vitoo dead eyes of proper size; to have all necessary
snatchblocks, catblocks, watch-tackles, and belaying-pins of
greenheart.
Sails.—To have one complete suit of sails, the topsails to be
fitted with Cunningham’s })atent reefing apparatus according to
plan, of Gonvock extra canvass, with suitable Nos. complete, ready
for bending with sail covers as required.
Iron Work.—All the small iron work of the hull to be furnished
complete of the best quality.
Boats.—To have at least six boats, according to Act of Parlia¬
ment, complete with strong iron davits, tackle falls, &c., as usual.
The boats to be supplied with ash oars, rudders, tillers, and boat¬
hooks, and the four largest to have masts and sails.
All the boats to be supplied with canvass covers and gripes as
required ; the four midship boats to be carried inboard on beams
of proper strength, and properly supported on iron stancheons
from the rail, and to be fitted with patent lowering apparatus to
a plan to be furnished.
Gangways.—To have properly-fitted gangways opposite to each
hatch for receiving cargo; to have on each side a passenger-gang¬
way, with suitable accommodation-ladders, davits for lifting, iron
railings, and man-ropes.
Coaling-Ports.—To have fitted along ship’s side, between upper
and main decks, the number of coaling-ports that may be afterwards
found necessary, properly hinged, so as to be perfectly water¬
tight when closed, and fitted with strong iron shoots inside, com¬
municating, by grated openings, with the upper-decks and with
coal-boxes.
Painting.—The outside of the ship to receive three coats of the
best oil paint, the inside two coats, except the bottom, which is to
be coated with patent cement. The woodwork on deck to receive
three coats, and to be grained in imitation oak. Masts and spars
to receive two coats of paint or varnish. Cabins and internal fit¬
tings to be painted in the best manner, as may be afterwards
directed.
Winches.—To have three double-power cargo winches, with der¬
ricks and chains complete, for working cargo.
Side Lights.—To have two brass side lights in each state-room
on main-deck and spar-deck, all securely riveted to ship’s side, and
made water-tight.
Bells.—To have a ship’s bell and belfry, with name engraved on
it, and binnacle-bell.
Binnacles.—To have two brass and one mahogany binnacle, with
lamps.
Figurehead.—To have a handsome full-length figurehead, with
trail-boards, stern and quarter carving, as may be required to suit
name, all handsomely relieved with gilding.
Flags.—To have one ensign, one burgee, one union-jack, one
blue-peter, one private signal, and one set of Marryatt’s signals
with chest and book.
Signal Lanterns.—To have complete set of Admiralty signal
lanterns (brass, of large size).
Guns.—To have two brass 4-pounder, and four iron 9-pounder Practical
guns, with breechings, rammers, and sponge complete, with all the Building,
usual complement of muskets, pistols, and cutlasses.
Steering Apparatus.—To have a handsome double-steering wheel
of E. I. teak, fitted with right and left handed screw-steering gear,
brass nuts, malleable iron crosshead, connecting-rods, and screw.
To have two portable tillers fitted to rudder-stock ; wheel to be
covered by a substantial house, with glass front.
Cook-House.—To have a spacious galley of iron fitted on main or
spar-deck, near funnel, with the most improved form of cooking
apparatus and baking ovens for crew and passengers; the wood¬
work of the galley to be lined with 51b. lead and felt, and the
floor to be covered with fire-tiles, and to have proper ventilators
on sides and top.
Poop.—To have a poop to extend from after-part of vessel to
after-part of after-hatch, about 90 feet long; in forming the poop,
every alternate frame of the vessel to be carried up, to which are
to be joined the beams of the poop, same size of iron as the frames.
The sides and after-end of the poop to be rounded over and plated
with § plates, the poop-deck to have teak water-ways, 12x5;
teak decks, 3" X 5". The whole fastened to the beams with bolts
and screws, every butt to have a screw-bolt. Stancheons of gal¬
vanised iron to be carried round the poop, with a teak rail on top.
The poop to be fitted with suitable skylights, made of teak, fitted
in the best style for light and ventilation; also to have round or
square side lights in state-rooms, as may be required ; to have side
stairs, with brass rails, from the upper deck. The inside of poop
to be fitted up in first style for passenger accommodation, and in
accordance with a plan to be approved; to have two bath-rooms;
also a water-closet for every eight passengers, side state-rooms,
ladies’ sitting cabin, captain’s cabin and steward’s pantry, with all
the necessary furniture and fi.tings; the whole of the very best
description of workmanship and material, as usual in large pas¬
senger steamers of the first-class.
Main-Deck.—On the main-deck a dining-room, to be entered by
a spacious stair, either from inside of poop or from upper-deck, to
be fitted with all the necessary furniture; a full set of dining-
tables, sofas, settees, and chairs covered with morocco; to have
mirrors, carpets, sideboards, stoves, lamps, swinging trays, &c., &c.,
and to have side state-rooms for first-class passengers, with carpets,
curtains, sofas, wash-stands, &c., the whole arranged to a plan to
be approved of.
Second-Class Accommodation.—To be fitted on main-deck forward
for 100 passengers, with a water-closet for every 12 passengers,
bath-room, &c. Saloon under spar-deck, of polished E. I. teak,
with tables, settees, &c. The steward’s bar and other conveniences
all in the best manner.
Deck-House.—To have a strongly-fitted deck-house, as large as
possible, consistent with other deck arrangements ; to be constructed
with iron frames and beams, made fast to strong teak coamings,
bolted to the deck-beams. The deck of the house to be of 2£ inches
yellow pine, with a side covering board to form moulding, of E. I.
teak ; the sides and ends to be of IJ- inch yellow pine, half
checked or feathered, and grooved; the house to be fitted according
to a plan to be arranged and approved.
Officers’ Accommodation.—To have accommodation for the officers,
engineers, stokers, and stewards, with a sufficient number of water-
closets and other conveniences, fitted on main-deck, between the
first and second-class cabins, with separate ladder-ways, all as may
be afterwards arranged.
Topgallant Forecastle.—To extend from the back of the figurehead
of vessel to the fore side of the fore-hatch, being about 68 feet in
length, and in height about 6 feet to 6 feet 6 inches; every alternate
frame of the vessel at forecastle to be carried up to deck of fore¬
castle, with reverse angle-irons, 4x3x4 inches, by piecing the pre¬
sent frames; to have an angle-iron stringer, 4 x 4 x i inches, with
plates 18x4 inches. The beams to be of bulb-iron, 7 X J, placed on
every frame; these beams to be turned down at ends, to form knees,
same as the other beams of the vessel; the beams to have an angle-
iron, 24 x 2| x f inches, riveted on each side, for fastening down
decks; to have two beam-ties riveted on top of plates, 12 X 4i and
that part of the forecastle deck where capstan comes through, to be
all plated between the beam-ties; same to extend a sutficient length
for strengthening that part of capstan ; plating to be i^th8 thick,
and to extend from gunwale of vessel to top of forecastle, and the
whole length of forecastle with double riveted butt-joints. The
decks to be of teak, 54 X 3 inches, with teak water-ways, 12 X 44,
well fastened down, caulked, and made water-tight; the part of
deck at capstands to be well fastened and strengthened with teak
planks, of increased thickness to those on deck; the top of fore¬
castle to be fitted with all the necessary chocks, &c., required for
a vessel of this class. The capstand for anchors to be double, and
wrought on topgallant forecastle; but the stopper and riding-bitts
to remain on spar-deck, as originally intended. The front of fore-
204
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical castle to be neatly closed in and panelled, equal to bulwarks of
Building, vessel. The interior to be fitted up for crew, as xna.y be directed
v , , ) by owners, with suitable brass aide lights for ventilation.
Forecastle.—The crew to be accommodated in forecastle, under
spar-deck, with berths, mess tables, &c., as may be required.
Lower-Deck Fittings.—Vhe lower-deck, forward and aft, to be
fitted with bullion-room, mail-room, wine-cellar, store-rooms, &c.,
as may be directed, all in the most approved manner.
On the main-deck, forward of second-class cabin, the remaining
space to be fitted with butcher’s shop, cabin for petty officers, and
other necessary fittings, as may be directed.
Skylights. The second-class cabin to be lighted and ventilated
by skylights, fitted on cargo hatches, with suitable gratings, and
other particulars as required.
Sundries. All the locks, hinges, hat-books, &c., to be of brass,
and fitted as required, and of the best description; to have com¬
plete sets of lamps for all the cabins, locks and bars for all the
hatches and store-rooms; hen-coops, sheepfold, pig-sty, sets of
capstand bars for both capstands; four 60-gallon water-casks, four
harness-casks, twenty-four buckets, twenty-four mess kids; four
water-funnels, six breakers, four deck-tubs, and four tar-buckets;
awnings for quarter-deck, with iron stancheons, binnacles, and bell-
covers ; skylight-covers and tarpaulines as required; iron bell¬
mouthed ventilators, and windsails for engine-rooms where re¬
quired.
Taylerson’s Messrs Taylerson and Company, of Port-Glasgow, have
diagonal patented a diagonal arrangement of the frames of iron
framing, vessels. They substitute diagonal framing in the place of
the ordinary vertical framing, or intersperse diagonal with
vertical frames. The annexed figure shows the latter sys¬
tem of arrangement. No addition of strength, however,
to the side of a ship will obviate the necessity for strength
in the bottom and in the deck. If rupture were to take
place at the top edge of the side, it may be doubted whether
the diagonal frame would do more than divert the line of
rupture into the sloping line between itself and the next
frame. The same builders use a remarkably strong form
of keel and keelson (fig. 61) ; and a representation of this is
annexed, showing at the same time their mode of attaching
the water-tight bulkheads ; they introduce a piece of timber
at each bulkhead, where it is attached to the ship’s side,
and fasten this by screws from the outside, with a view of
lessening the number of rivet-holes. This most desirable
object is no doubt attained, but great care must be taken
that corrosion of the fastenings does not take place.
Arman’s Mr L. Arman, of Bourdeaux, has constructed ships with
mixed sys- diagonal iron framing inside a framing of wood of very
and iran°0d^g • scant^na> the sheathing of the ship being of wood.
n ' Inside the vessel, and attached to the iron frames, he in¬
troduced a series of horizontal stringers of plate-iron at
intervals from the deck to the keelson, which is also of
iron. This system imparts great strength to the frame¬
work of the vessel, and it is believed that it has, upon the
whole, been very successful. Altogether the combination
of wood with iron has been carried much further in France
than in this country. Iron beams are being much used in Practical
their vessels, and iron rudder-pieces, the latter being very Building,
advantageous in men-of-war, from their smaller size.
Before closing these remarks, the influence or effects Effects of
exercised upon die practical construction of ships by the Lloyd’s
rules of Lloyd’s register require to be noticed, f they^g'st«m
form a code of instructions to which all merchant-builders UQ'
of fliis country are compelled to adhere. These rules aie
stated to be compulsory, because if a builder deviates from
them, or ventures to differ in any point from the opinions
of the surveyor, his vessel loses caste, either by being
excluded altogether from the first class, or by being put
on it for a less term of years. This does not suit the
purchaser, and as there is no appeal from the decision of
thp snrvpvor. the builders must submit. In the first place,
rect for the sharp long ship intended for carrying light
cargoes, such as tea, wool, &c., and also for those which
are intended for heavy dead-weights. Nor is any differ¬
ence permitted in the scantlings of the timbers at the bow
and at the stern of full or sharp ships. The rules do not
directly interfere with the forms of ships, but in some re¬
spects they have undoubtedly indirectly militated against
the production of fast-sailing vessels.
The supporters of Lloyd’s register claim to themselves
the credit of having improved the British mercantile ma¬
rine ; but, in the opinion of many experienced persons, its
effect has been to produce a dead and spiritless mediocrity.
That the construction of many very bad ships is greatly
prevented is true, but there is no actually compulsory law
to force every ship to be inspected and classed at Lloyd’s,
and many ships are sailed independent of any such inspec¬
tion : its action in this respect, therefore, is not complete.
On the other hand, it is equally true, that men of skill and
talent are restrained from introducing improvements in the
combination of materials. That this is the effect produced
is well known; and as an instance, it may be mentioned,
that on the first proposal being made to introduce iron
beams into a wooden vessel, leave was refused unless the
vessel was put into a lower class; and this improvement,
SHIP-BUILDING.
205
Practical
which is now fully admitted by Lloyd’s, was kept back for
many years. It is natural that the general feeling of ser¬
vants of the government, or of large public or joint-stock
companies, should be against taking responsibility upon
themselves by introducing or permitting changes; but it is
much to be deplored if this spirit is brought into such a
position as to be a drag upon the talent and energies of the
whole nation. Shipowners who are not themselves practi¬
cally acquainted with ship-building, take the natural course
of adopting Lloyd’s register as their standard. I hey con¬
tract for a ship to be built in such a manner that she may
be put into the first class at Lloyd’s, and they thus declare
themselves ready to pay the cost of the builder’s adherence
to Lloyd’s rules.
The ship-builder knows, perhaps, that he could introduce
improvements, but he is unwilling to subject himself to the
risk of a refusal by Lloyd’s surveyors, and as the purchaser
for whom he is working is satisfied, he builds accordingly.
The want of encouragement by Lloyd’s rules to increase
the durability of ships has been before noticed. Under
the existing rules, then, there seems to be reason to fear
that the tendency of Lloyd’s register has been to some ex¬
tent to cause increased expenditure, to restrain improve¬
ment, and to uphold a dead and stagnant mediocrity. It Practical
is to be hoped that care will be taken to guard against Building,
the possible existence of such evils for the future.
On Launching.
Ships are generally built on blocks which are laid at a Launching,
declivity of about fths of an inch to a foot. This is for the
facility of launching them. The inclined plane or sliding
plank on which they are launched has rather more inclina¬
tion, or about. £ths of an inch to the foot for large ships,
and a slight increase on this for smaller vessels. This in¬
clination will, however, in some measure, depend upon the
depth of water into which the ship is to be launched.
While a ship is in progress of being built, her weight
is partly supported by her keel on the blocks, and partly by
shores. In order to launch her, the weight must be taken
off these supports, and transferred to a movable base ; and
a platform must be erected for the movable base to slide
on. This platform must not only be laid at the necessary
inclination, but must be of sufficient height to enable the
ship to be water-borne, and to preserve her from striking the
ground when she arrives at the end of the ways.
For this purpose, an inclined plane, a, a (figs. 62 and 63),
purposely left unplaned to diminish the adhesion, is laid on
each side the keel, and at about one-sixth the breadth of the
Fig. 63.
vessel distant from it, and firmly secured on blocks fast¬
ened in the slipway. This inclined plane is called the
sliding-plank. A long timber, called a bilgeway, b, b, with
a smooth under surface, is laid upon this plane; and upon
this timber, as a base, a temporory frame-work of shores,
c, c, called “ poppets,” is erected to reach from the bilge¬
way to the ship. The upper part of this frame-work abuts
against a plank, d, temporarily fastened to the bottom of
the ship, and firmly cleated by cleats, e, e, also temporarily
secured to the bottom. When it is all in place, and the
sliding-plank and under side of the bilgeway finally greased
with tallow, soft soap, and oil, the whole framing is set close
up to the bottom, and down on the sliding-plank, by wedges,
/, f, technically called slivers or slices, by which means
the ship’s weight is brought upon the “ launch” or cradle.
When the launch is thus fitted, the ship may be said to
have three keels, two of which are temporary, and are se¬
cured under her bilge. In consequence of this width of
support, all the shores may be safely taken away. This
being done, the blocks on which the ship was built, except¬
ing a few, according to the size of the ship, under the fore¬
most end of the keel, are gradually taken from under her
as the tide rises, and her weight is then transferred to the
two temporary keels, or the launch ; the bottom of which
launch is formed by the bilgeways, resting on the well greased
inclined planes. The only preventive now to the launch¬
ing of the ship is a short shore, called a dog-shore (g), on
each side, with its heel firmly cleated on the immovable
platform or sliding-plank, and its head abutting against a
cleat (h), secured to the bilgeway, or base of the movable
part of the launch. Consequently, when this shore is re¬
moved, the ship is free to move, and her weight forces
her down the inclined plane to the water. To prevent her
running out of her straight course, two ribands are secured
on the sliding-plank, and strongly shored. Should the
ship not move when the dog-shore is knocked down, the
blocks remaining under the fore part of her keel must be
consecutively removed, until her weight overcomes the
adhesion, or until the action of a screw against her fore¬
foot forces her off.
A much less expensive mode of launching is now much Launching
practised in the merchant-yards of this country, and hason the keel-
been long in use in the French dockyards, allowing the
keel to take the entire weight of the vessel. The annexed
figure represents this method (fig. 64). 1 he two pieces
(a a), which are shown in the figure as being secured to
the ship’s bottom, are the only pieces which need be pre-
206
SHI
S H I
Shiraz, pared according to this system for each ship, the whole of
the remainder being available for every launch. A space
of about half an inch is left between them and the balk
timber placed beneath them, as it is not intended that the
ship should bear on these balk timbers in launching, but
merely be supported by them in the event of her heeling
over. ’ The ship, therefore, is launched wholly on the
sliding-plank (e), fitted under the keel. Messrs Hall of
Aberdeen launched a vessel of 2600 tons in this manner
without a single cleat upon her bottom or riband of any
kind, and avoided all the making-up of the side-ways,
except for about 60 feet in midships for keeping the ship
upright. The centre-way was hollowed, and a round
sliding-way fitted in it, and the keel was thus supported
from end to end. This may, therefore, be considered to
be the safest, cheapest, and easiest mode of launching long
sharp ships.
If a ship is coppered before launching, so that putting her
into a dry-dock for that purpose becomes unnecessary, it is
then desirable that she should be launched without any
cleats attached to her bottom. This method of fitting the
launch, as represented in figure 65, is then adopted for
this purpose. The two sides of the cradle are prevented
being forced apart when the weight of the ship is brought
upon them by chains passing under the keel. Each por¬
tion of frame-work composing the launch has two of these
chains attached to it, and brought under the keel, to a bolt
a, which passes slackly through one of the poppets, and
is secured by a long forelock b, with an iron handle (<?),
reaching above the water-line, so that when the ship is afloat
it may be drawn out of the bolt. The chain then draws
the bolt a, and in falling trips the cradle from under the
bottom. There should be at least two chains on each side
secured to the fore-poppets, two on each side secured to
the after-poppets, and two on each side to the stopping up,
and this only for the launch of a small ship: in larger
ships the number will necessarily be increased according
to the weight of the vessel and the tendency that she may
have, according to her form, to separate the bilgeways.
This tendency on the part of a sharp ship by a rising floor,
or by her wedge-shaped form in the fore and after bodies,
is great, but there is not much probability of a ship heeling
over to one side or the other.
It is recorded that upon one occasion of our sailors hav¬
ing taken possession of an enemy’s arsenal, and finding a
vessel on the stocks nearly completed, they removed the
shores from one side, and tried to upset her by wedging
up the shores on the other side, but were unable to do
so. There appears, therefore, to be no valid objection to
the cheaper and more ready method of launching on the
keel. (a. m—y.)
SHIRAZ, a city of Persia, formerly capital of the whole
country, and now of the province of Ears, 115 miles E.N.E.
of Bushire. It stands in a wide plain, 25 miles long by
12 broad, enclosed by bare limestone mountains. The
greater part of the plain is stony and barren ; but a large
portion has been brought under cultivation. The imme¬
diate vicinity of Shiraz is celebrated for its beauty and
fertility, and is occupied with extensive suburbs and gar¬
dens. The town itself is encircled by walls 3^ miles in
circumference; and entered by six gates, each flanked by
two towers. Formerly there were here a large palace,
numerous mosques, colleges, bazaars, and caravanserais;
but the aspect of the place has been entirely changed by
the earthquake which took place in April 1853, by which
nearly the whole town was laid in ruins. Previous to this
earthquake there had been others nearly equally destructive
in 1812 and 1824. Besides these, and other natural dis¬
asters, the town has suffered very much from the oppression
of its rulers, so that it is now reduced to a very wretched
condition. One of the gates is named after the poet Sadi,
who was born here in 1149 a.d., and died here also at the
age of one hundred and twenty. He is buried in a mau¬
soleum, 22 miles to the N.E. of Shiraz. About half a mile
N.E. of the Ispahan gate of the city is the tomb of
Hafiz, the Anacreon of Persia, also a native of Shiraz.
The most remarkable commodity of the place is wine, of
which there are two kinds. Its seal-engravers are very
famous in Persia; and it has also manufactures of silk and
cotton goods, firearms, cutlery, and earthen-ware. Its
trade, too, is very considerable, as it stands on the routes
from the port of Bushire to Kerman, Yezd, and Ispahan, in
the interior. According to Persian legends, Shiraz was
built by Janshid; but history makes Hadji bin Yusuf its
founder, a.d. 697. The principal mosque was built by
Atabah Sad Zanzi, a.d. 1226; but the greatest benefactor
of the town was Kerim Khan, who lived towards the end
of the eighteenth century. Since that time the place has
gradually declined. In the vicinity lie the remains of
many splendid ancient buildings; and about 25 miles N.E.
are the ruins of Persepolis. Pop. 30,000, including about
400 families of Jews.
SHIRE (Anglo-Saxon Seyran to divide, whence also
to shear, shears, sheer, shore, shirt, skirt, &c.), a territorial
division, cut off or divided from the surrounding country.
As ordinarily applied now-a-days, it is synonymous with
County (which see); but certain districts in England still
preserve traces of the original meaning of the word. For
example, Richmondshire, in the North Riding of Yorkshire ;
and Hallamshire, which is nearly co-extensive with the
parish of Sheffield.
SHIRLEY, James, a successful English dramatist, was
born in London on the 13th September 1596. He had
his education at Merchant Taylors’ School, London, and at
St John’s College, Oxford, where he gave signal marks of
future distinction. The duration of his residence at this
university cannot now be ascertained, as the public records
of Oxford do not mention his name. He next proceeded
to Catherine Hall, Cambridge, where he took his degree.
His earliest publication was a poem, entitled, Echo, or the
Infortunate Lovers, which appeared in 1618, and which
was in all probability the same as the Narcissus of 1646.
Having finished his academical course, he adopted the
ecclesiastical profession, and was appointed to a living in
or near St Alban’s, Hertfordshire, which he shortly resigned,
from his having become a convert to Roman Catholicism.
Resigning the clerical profession, he taught for some time
during the years 1623 and 1624 in the Grammar School of
St Albans. Disliking the drudgery of tuition, he went up
to London, lived in Gray’s Inn, and devoted himself to the
composition of plays. Love Tricks, or the School of Com¬
plement, was his earliest production. It was published in
1631, but had been licensed five years earlier. It was
evidently a youthful production, but it gave good promise
of future excellence in the peculiar walk which he had
chosen. Of the thirty-three regular dramas which flowed
trom his exuberant invention, there are great varieties of
S H I
ghirvan. excellence. Unquestionably his highest efFort was the
j Traitor, licensed in 1631 and published in 1635. “As¬
suredly, since his decease,” says Dyce, “ no tragedy of equal
excellence has graced the British stage.” The truth and
vigour which waited on his pen in the composition of this
drama must have disliked the work, for they seem in a great
measure to have deserted him on its completion. This play
was plagiarized by one Rivers in 1692, and has been fre¬
quently revived. It was partly recast by Richard Shell, in
his Evadne, or the Statue, which was acted with success at
Covent Garden in 1819. Shirley, however, who should
have been a good judge of the quality of plays, esteemed
his Cardinal, which was published in 1652, as “ the best
of his flock.”
In September 1642, an order went forth from both
Houses* of Parliament for the suppression of stage plays
throughout the kingdom ; and Shirley, who was a mon¬
archist, gave in his adherence to his munificent patron,
the Duke of Newcastle, whom he had assisted largely in
the composition of his plays. The King’s cause declining,
and the dramatist’s prospects being of the gloomiest de¬
scription, he retired obscurely to London, where he con¬
trived, by industriously pursuing his former occupation of
a teacher, to support his wife and family for the remainder
of his days. He was solaced by the intimate friendship of
Thomas Stanley, author of the History of Philosophy, and
of Sir Edward Sherburne, now principally remembered by
his translation of a portion of Manilius. Of Shirley’s com¬
petency for this office, he has left us a pledge in his excel¬
lent grammatical treatises. With the exception of giving
occasional assistance to John Ogilby in his literary under¬
takings, Shirley seems to have henceforward renounced the
use of his pen. The restoration of Charles II. could not
prevail upon him to break his resolution, and while the
degenerate race of playwrights hurried eagerly forward to
hold up their bombast and obscenity to that licentious age,
the gentle and modest old Shirley wore out the remainder
of his days away from the corruption of the court and the
dissolute practices of his compeers. Shirley was burned out
of his house in Fleet Street by the great fire of London in
1666, and being obliged to withdraw to the suburbs, he
and his wife, overcome with fright and fatigue, both died
in the same day (October 29), and were buried in the same
grave. The orphan children of the dramatist were most
probably thrown destitute on the world. In Anthony a
Wood’s day, one of his sons held the office of butler at
Furnival’s Inn. Sic transit gloria mundi /
Dryden has satirized Shirley in his MacFleeknoe, but
he possessed much greater merits than his appearance there
would imply. His language is always correct, and his inven¬
tion sometimes successful; but he has only a limited stock
of the objects of fancy to draw upon. His humour, how¬
ever, is broad and genial; his wit is sometimes sprightly,
but more frequently strained; his characters are well drawn,
although he never rises into any of the nicer shades which
discriminate one personality from another. He delineates
passion well, yet he is better at the description of it than
he is in making us feel the thing itself. His plays, although
many of them well worth reading, are no longer acted.
He had not the anticipatory genius, enabling him to deli¬
neate with words the passions of men throughout all times.
1 Ins prerogative was given to Shakspeare alone of all our
English dramatists. The best edition of Shirley’s Dra¬
matic Works and Poems is that of Gifford and Dyce,
6 vols. 8vo, London, 1833.
SHIRVAN, a province of Asiatic Russia, in the country
of the Caucasus, bounded on the north by the province of
Daghestan, from which it is separated by the Caucasus,
E. by the Caspian, S. by Persia, and W. by Georgia.
It lies between N. Lat. 40. and 41.; E. Long. 48. and
49. 30. A range of mountains traverses the province from
SHI 207
N.W. to S.E., separating the valley of the Kur, which Shishkoff.
forms the southern frontier, from that of the Terek. The
northern portion is level, fertile, and well wooded; watered
by numerous affluents of the Kur. The climate is warm,
especially about the delta of the Kur, where the soil is very
fertile, and would produce, if properly cultivated, many
tropical plants. Rice, silk, wine, cotton, and tobacco are
the principal productions of Shirvan. On the coasts of the
Caspian there are valuable fisheries. The chief manufac¬
tures are those of silk at Shamaka, the largest town in the
province. In the mountainous regions arms and other
metal fabrics are made. The inhabitants are almost all of
the Tartar or Turkish race, with a slight mixture of Arabs
and Persians. The majority are Mohammedans, but there
are also some Jews and Armenians. The language is the
I urkish, which is also used in Azerbijan. Shirvan formed
until the sixth century a part of the monarchy of Armenia;
but was afterwards conquered by the Persians, and made a
part of that empire under Khosroo Nooshirvan, who called
this country after his name. But at a subsequent period
it was governed for some time by independent princes,
who in the ninth century acknowledged the supremacy of
the Caliphs. I he rulers of Shirvan, however, long retained
much power, and carried on many wars with Persia, over
which country they repeatedly gained great advantages.
Finally, in the end ot the fifteenth century, it was com¬
pletely brought under the Persian sway. The Russians
gradually invaded the country; and it was ceded to them
in 1812. Under their dominion it first formed the Caspian
province, but was divided in 1847 into the governments of
Shamaka and Derbent; the former of which in 1851 had
603,006, and the latter 453,284 inhabitants.
SPIISHKOFF, Alexander Semenowitsch, a Russian
author, admiral, and statesman, knight of several orders,
and president of the Russian Academy, was born in 1754,
and was educated at the Naval Cadet Corps. Having
entered the naval service, he subsequently visited, both
professionally and privately, Sweden, Denmark, England,
Germany, Italy, and Turkey. He began his career of
authorship while a cadet in the navy, by executing transla¬
tions, poems, and dramas. In his later years he devoted
his attention exclusively for long years to the benefiting
of persons connected w’ith the naval service of Russia.
His Naval Service, St Peterburg, 1793 ; his Marine
Lexicon, St Petersburg, 1795; his Collection of Journals
during Voyages at Sea, St Petersburg, 1800; and his
Historical Records of the Navy, published some time
after, all belong to this class. After an estrangement of
twenty years, he returned to pure literature, the darling of
his early years. His effective, but too hasty book, Con¬
siderations on the Old and New Styles of the Russian Lan¬
guage, appeared in 1802, and has been frequently reprinted.
His Additional Remarks to this volume appeared in 1804,
and the Essays of La Harpe in 1808. A tart review of this
work occasioned a series of replies and retorts, which wound
up with The Easiest Way of Replying to a Criticism, 1811,
from the pen of the reviewer, and is acknowledged to be
one of the most acute works of a polemical nature in
the Russian language. In 1811 appeared Shishkoft’s Dia¬
logues on Literature, and in 1812 he was made secretary
of state, in which capacity he accompanied the Emperor
Alexander, and gleaned the materials of his Memoirs of the
War in 1812, published in 1816 at St Petersburg. The
latter work is perhaps the best which he has written. It
overflows with patriotism and zeal for the glory of Russia,
and is written in a strain of high-wrought, fervid eloquence.
In 1818 appeared his prose translation of Tasso’s Gieru-
salemme Liberata, which closed his public career of author¬
ship. Many of his later writings are reported to be still in
manuscript; and if one can trust to the intelligence which
rumour conveys, they had better remain so. Shishkoff
208
S H I
S H O
Shitomir died in 1841, and his works appeared in 14 vols. in
II 1823-34.
Shoe. SHITOMIR. See Jitomir.
^ SHOA, or Shwa, a state of Abyssinia, in the south¬
east of that country, lying between N. Lat. 8. 30. and 11.,
E. Long. 38. and 40. 30., and extending from the river
Hawasht which separates it from the country of the Gollas
on the south, to its affluent the Berkona, and to the Wan-
shit, a tributary of the Abai, which separate it from Amhara
on the north. The country is very elevated, and attains
on the south and east a height of 9000 or 10,000 feet above
the sea. Towards the south the land gradually declines to
the broad plain watered by the Hawash; towards the east
the descent is much steeper; while the centre and west of
the country is occupied by the valley of the Jamma, sloping
by degrees to the height of about 3000 feet, which that
river has at its confluence with the Abai. Both on the
north and on the south of this valley there are high moun¬
tains, rising 4000 or 5000 feet above its surface. The
Jamma is the principal river in the land, and receives many
affluents from the south. These divide the table-land
through which they flow into a number of narrow ridges,
since many of them flow through deep ravines, interrupted
by numerous cataracts. The loftier parts of the country
are in many places well cultivated, producing large crops
of wheat and barley, and are studded with numerous vil¬
lages and trees; but there are also extensive regions used
only for pasturage. The climate is cool and healthy, some¬
times exceedingly cold. In the lower ground, where the
temperature is higher, cotton is largely grown. Many
of the valleys of Shoa are exceedingly beautiful, with a
luxuriant and even gigantic vegetation; but the climate
here is very hot and unhealthy. Among the mineral pro¬
ductions of the country coal is the most important; some
metals have also been found, as well as sulphur, nitre, and
alum. The vegetable productions include dyewoods, drugs,
indigo, and coffee, besides those already mentioned. Almost
the only manufacture is a coarse kind of cotton cloth, which
is made in large quantities at every farm. A considerable
trade is carried on, chiefly through Zeila, which is the
nearest port, not far from the Strait of Bab-el-mandeb. The
exports comprise the produce of the surrounding countries,
as well as of Shoa itself, such as ivory, spices, and gold-
dust. The country is governed by a king, and the popula¬
tion amounts to 1,500,000, including heathens, Mohamme¬
dans, and Christians.
SHOE, a covering for the foot, usually of leather. Shoes
among the Jews were made of leather, linen, rush, or wood ;
those of soldiers were sometimes of brass or iron. They
were tied with thongs, which passed under the soles of the
feet. To put off their shoes was an act of veneration ; it
was also a sign of mourning and humiliation. To bear
one’s shoes, or to untie the latchets of them, was considered
as the meanest kind of service.
Among the Greeks, shoes of various kinds were used.
Sandals were worn by women of distinction. The Lace¬
daemonians wore red shoes. The Grecian shoes generally
reached to the middle of the leg. The Romans used two
kinds of shoes; the calceus, which covered the whole foot,
somewhat like our shoes, and was tied above with latchets
or strings ; and the solea, or sandal, which covered only the
sole of the foot, and was fastened with leathern thongs.
The calceus was always worn along with the toga when a
person went abroad; sandals were put on during a journey
and at feasts, but it was reckoned effeminate to appear in
public with them. Black shoes were worn by the citizens
of ordinary rank, and white ones by the women. Red shoes
were sometimes worn by the ladies, and purple ones by the
coxcombs of the other sex. Red shoes were put on by
the chief magistrates of Rome on days of ceremony and
triumphs. The shoes of senators, patricians, and their
children, had a crescent upon them, which served for a Sholapo
buckle; and these were called calcei lunati. Slaves wore v"
no shoes, and hence they were called cretati, from their
dusty feet. Phocion also and Cato of Utica went without
shoes. The toes of the Roman shoes were turned up in
the point; and hence they were called calcei rostrati.
T»^ rprifnrips t.hp PTPfttPSt
Europe wore wooden shoes, or the upper part of leather
and the sole of wood. In the reign of William Rufus, a
great beau, Robert, surnamed the Horned, used shoes with
long sharp points, stuffed with tow, and twisted like a ram’s
horn. It is said that the clergy, being highly offended,
declaimed with great vehemence against the long-pointed
shoes. The points, however, continued to increase, till in
the reign of Richard II. they were of so enormous a length
that they were tied to the knees with chains, sometimes of
gold, sometimes of silver. The upper parts of these shoes
were in Chaucer’s time cut in imitation of a church-window.
The long-pointed shoes were called crackowes, and con¬
tinued in fashion for three centuries, in spite of the bulls
of popes, the decrees of councils, and the declamations of
the clergy. At length the parliament of England inter¬
posed by an act passed in the year 1463, prohibited the
use of shoes or boots with pikes exceeding two inches in
length, and forbade all shoemakers from making shoes or
boots with longer pikes, under severe penalties. But even
this was not sufficient. It was necessary to denounce the
dreadful sentence of excommunication against all who wore
shoes or boots with points longer than two inches. The
present fashion of shoes was introduced in 1633, but the
buckle was not used till 1670. The customary shoe of the
American Indians, known as the moccasin, is generally
made of deer-skin or other soft leather, and is without a
sole, but ornamented on the upper side.
SHOLAPORE, a collectorate of British India, in the
presidency of Bombay, lying between N. Lat. 16. 10. and
18. 34., E. Long. 75. and 76. 28.; bounded on the N. and
E. by the Nizam’s dominions, S. and S.W. by the collecto-
rates of Belgaum and Sattara, W. and N.W. by those of
Poona and Ahmednuggur. Its length from N.W. to S.E.
is 170 miles; greatest breadth, 50; area, 4991 square
miles. The country is undulating, presenting a series of
hills and valleys, with comparatively few trees. Its chief
rivers are the Kestnah, which washes the southern border,
the Bheema and the Seena. The soil is admirably adapted
for the growth of cotton, which is the principal crop raised.
There is a great want of internal communications, as there
is no good road in any part of the country ; while the rivers
Bheema and Seena, when swollen at the time of the mon¬
soons, offer serious impediments in the way of travelling.
Considerable care has been bestowed on agriculture ; but as
European implements have not yet been generally intro¬
duced, there are still great deficiencies, both in the culti¬
vation of the soil and in the mechanical arts. Sholapore
was acquired by the East India Company in 1818, after the
fall of the Peishwa. It was at first included in the collec¬
torate of Poona, but in 1838 formed into a separate collec¬
torate. Pop. 675,115.
Sholapore, the capital of the above collectorate, stands
in a level tract near its eastern extremity, 165 miles S.E of
Poona and 220 S.E. of Bombay. It is a place of no natu¬
ral strength, but has been so strongly fortified as to be of
much importance in a military point of view. It is oblong
in form, surrounded by a substantial stone wall, and a broad
deep ditch, outside of which, on the north and east, is a
suburb, also fortified; while on the south the ditch expands
into a tank, with a mound on three sides of it. A church
has been built here, but there are no other important
edifices. Sholapore has frequently changed masters in the
early periods of Indian history. It was taken by escalade
in 1818, by a British force under General Pritzter.
209
SHOOTING.
Shooting. The pursuit and destruction of wild animals for security,
.^y^^food, clothing, or pastime, have been amongst the occupa¬
tions of men in all ages, since the primeval bruere over¬
spread the earth,
.And wild in woods the noble savage ran.
Before the more refined arts are introduced into any coun¬
try, the chase is a necessity, and the chief business of life.
The stronger and more noxious animals are destroyed for
individual safety; the weaker for food. It is not until
civilization and her handmaid luxury have seated them¬
selves, that the chase becomes a pastime. It does not ap¬
pear when the sportsman first sprang into existence. There
is no corresponding word in any ancient language, since
that could not be called a sport which was a necessity. It
is probable that in the earliest ages of society the dog was
the sole agent employed by the hunter. Afterwards vari¬
ous weapons, manual, missile, and projectile, as the club,
the dart, the arrow, were used by the hunter and fowler.
Then would follow springes, traps, nets, and all that class of
devices for the capture of beasts and birds ferce naturce,
comprehended in the term toils. As dogs were employed
to hunt quadrupeds, so, in process of time, hawks wrere
trained to bring down birds for the service of their master.
The arbalest, or cross-bow, preceded the matchlock, which,
however, could scarcely be called an implement of the
chase, but which, in the order of succession, brings us down
to the rifle, and original fowling-piece with its long heavy
barrel and flint and steel lock ; and, lastly, we arrive at the
double barrels and detant locks of the modern shooter.
In the days of the Saxon and Norman kings, and long
previously, the Britons were famous for their skill in arch¬
ery, both in war and in the chase. The feats of the bow
were often introduced into the songs of the bards of the
ancient Britons, and into the ballads of the Troubadours.
Archery. Archery is now confined to shooting at the target.
Ladies not unfrequently contend for the prize in this ele¬
gant amusement. Their bows, however, are not such as
were used by the amazons of yore, nor are those of the
gentlemen of the archery clubs such as decided the battle
of Cressy.
Falconry. Falconry, coeval with, and subsequent to the decline of
archery, occupied that rank in British field sports which is
now enjoyed by shooting. Falconry is of high antiquity ;
but at what time hawks were first trained to the sport does
not appear. Aristotle informs us that “ there wras a dis¬
trict in Thrace, in which the boys used to assemble at a cer¬
tain time of the year, for the sake of bird-catching ; that
the spot was much frequented by hawks, which were wont
to appear on hearing themselves called, and would drive
the little birds into the bushes, where they were caught
by children; and that the hawks would even sometimes
take the birds and fling them to these young fowlers, who,
after finishing their diversion, bestowed on their assistants
part of their prey.” Martial has the following epigram on
the fate of a hawk:
Prado fuit volucrum, famulus nunc aucupis, idem
Decipit, et captas non sibi, mcerit, aves.
^ There is no record of trained hawks previous to the time
otEthelred. Under the Welsh laws of Hoel Dha, (a.d.
940), “ the falconer has a privilege, the day that the hawk Shooting,
shall bill a bittern, or a heron, or a curlew. Three services
shall the king perform for the falconer on such a day ; hold
his stirrup whilst he dismounts; hold the horse whilst he
goes after the birds; and hold his stirrup whilst he mounts
again. Three times shall the king that night compliment
him at table.” Shakspeare often uses the language o.
falconry. It is chiefly employed in a scene in the second
part of Henry VI., wherein the king, queen, lord protector,
and cardinal, are the chief speakers; which goes to prove,
that the falconer’s terms were, at one time, household words
at the English court.
Hunting and archery, which were then almost synoni-Hunting
mous terms, (for the sport was somewhat similar to whatand arc^'
deer-stalking now is, the rifle being substituted for the6^*
bow,) were in high repute with the Danish, Saxon, and
Norman kings, whence arose the forest laws. Wolves and
boars, which formerly infested the forests, were nearly ex¬
terminated in king Edgar’s time, when that monarch pro¬
hibited the killing of deer and game in his woods. The
punishment depended upon the will of the king, until the
celebrated forest laws of Canute, which defined the rights
and privileges of the monarch and others; but those laws
were little regarded by succeeding kings, whose arbitrary
will afterwards regulated the laws of the forest. “ Besides
other prerogatives of the Saxon kings,” says Selden, “they
had a franchise for wild beasts for the chase, which we com¬
monly call forest, being a precinct of ground, neither par¬
cel of the county, nor the diocese, nor the kingdom, but
rather appendant thereto.” And these prerogatives, he
quaintly observes, were maintained, u that the world might
see the happiness of England, where beasts enjoy their
liberty as well as men.” Another old writer says, that
“ the Saxon kings and the Danish king Canute made no
new forests, but were contented with the woods that were
their own demesnes, and were never granted to, or pos¬
sessed by the subject; but the kings of the Norman race,
not being satisfied with sixty-eight old demesne woods or
forests, depopulated well-built towns and villages, to make
to themselves places appropriated to their own diversion
only. William the Conqueror laid waste thirty-six towns
in Hampshire to make a forest, which still retains the name
of the New Forest; and his forest officers exercised such
arbitrary rule, as to abridge even the great barons of the
privileges they enjoyed under the Saxon and Danish kings,
not at all regarding the liberties given to the subject by
Canute’s forest laws. His son William Rufus is recorded
in history for the severity of his proceedings against all
that hunted in his forests, inflicting the punishment of death
upon such as killed a stag or buck in his forests, without
any other law than that of his own will.” The killing of
deer was punished with loss of sight by William the Con¬
queror.1 William Rufus “ did so severely forbid hunting
a deer, that it w'as felony and a hanging matter to have
taken a stag or buck.”2 In Cceur de Lion’s time, the law
was very severe against offenders taking the king’s venison;
it was even unlawful to carry a bow, or take dogs through
a royal forest. “ Qui arcus vel sagittas portaverint vel
canes duxerint sine copula per forestam Regis, et inde at-
taintus fuerit, erit in miserecordia Regis.”3
The forest laws professed to be for the protection of
“ vert and venison.” Vert was whatsoever bore green
1 John Selden.
VOL. XX.
2 William of Malmsbury.
England’s Epinomis, p. U4.
2 D
210 SHOO
Shooting, leaves, and afforded food or cover to the deer ; and venison
signified such beasts of the forest or the chase as were the
food of man. When reading old books, it is necessary to
keep in mind this acceptation of the word venison.
This state of things continued until by the Charta de
Foresta the forest laws were better defined and the penal¬
ties mitigated. The vast importance attached to the Forest
Charter may be inferred from the fact, that although granted
by king John at Runnymede, at the same time as the Great
Charter, it was not incorporated in it, but was made the
subject of a separate and distinct document. The Forest
Charter was likewise confirmed by Henry III., contempo¬
raneously with the Great Charter. On the latter occasion the
Forest Charter was counter-signed by sixty-four bishops, ab¬
bots, and barons; and sentence of excommunication against
all persons who should violate it was, with great ceremony,
denounced in Westminster Hall, by the archbishop, in the
presence of the king, bishops, and nobles, the bishops being
robed and bearing torches.
The oath administered, at twelve years of age, to every
young man dwelling within the precincts of a royal forest,
was in the following rhymes:
You shall true liege-man be
Unto the King’s Majesty:
• Unto the beasts of the Forest you shall no hurt do,
Nor to anything that doth belong thereunto:
. The offences of others you shall not conceal,
But to the utmost of your power, you shall them reveal
Unto the Officers of the Forest,
Or to them who may see them redrests
' All these things you shall see done,
, So help you God, at his Holy Doom
After the Forest Charter was granted any one was allowed
to kill game, except in the royal and other forests, and certain
other privileged places,1 until the reign of Richard II., when
a landed qualification of forty shillings per annum became ne¬
cessary to entitle a person to keep “ any greyhound, hound,
dog, ferret, net, or engine, to destroy deer, hares, conies,
or any other gentleman’s game.” The qualification required
was increased with the improved value of land, from time
to time, until, in Charles the Second’s reign, it was enacted,
that persons not having L.100 per annum arising from free¬
hold, or L.150 from leasehold property, or not being of
the degree of esquire, or otherwise privileged, should not
keep or use “ any guns, bows, greyhounds, setting dogs, fer¬
rets, coney-dogs, lurchers, hays, nets, lowbels, hare-pipes,
guns, snares, or other engines for taking or killing game.”
It was not until the early part of the reign of George III.
that killing game was taxed as a luxury, and made a source
of revenue to government. A tax of two guineas was first
imposed on all persons who should go out in pursuit of
game; but the price of the certificate was afterwards raised
T I N G.
to three guineas, and subsequently to threeanda half guineas. Shooting,
The property qualification is abolished, and now any person
who has taken out a certificate and obtained permission
from the owner or tenant of the land, in which soever the
right at the time may happen to be, is privileged to kill
game at all seasonable times. During a long period the
sale of game was prohibited, which gave a peculiar value
to it, as it was not attainable by any but qualified and cer¬
tificated persons and their friends, except by indirect means.
It is now publicly sold by persons taking out licences for
the purpose, and such licenced persons are liable to penal¬
ties, and are incapacitated from renewing their licences,
should they purchase game from any but duly certificated
sportsmen. The licenced dealers are, however, largely sup¬
plied by poachers, notwithstanding the penalties to which
they subject themselves by trading with uncertificated per¬
sons.
Falconry fell into dissuetude in the days of the Georges.
It is now scarcely known but by name, although the honor¬
ary distinction of hereditary Grand Falconer of England is
still extant. As falconry fell into disuse, another kind of
sport, which is now considered as disreputable, and practised
only by poachers, wras pursued by the country gentle¬
men ; the capturing of birds of the game species by means
of nets and setting dogs. The dogs were trained to lie
down when near to game, and to suffer the net to be drawn
over them, so that both dog and birds were entangled in
the toil. In this manner partridges are still frequently
taken by poachers in the night. A poacher’s dog is some¬
times known by his habit of crouching when close upon
game, and this circumstance not unfrequently leads to a
detection of the practices of his master. Netting was con¬
sidered as a fair mode of taking game until the fowling-piece
came into general use.
On the accession of the house of Hanover to the throne
of Great Britain, falconry, netting, and shooting, were con¬
temporary amusements. The number of shooters was very
limited, the inferiority of the guns and ammunition being
such as not to induce their general adoption ; hawking was
going out of favour; and, of the three sports, netting was the
most commonly practised, until the beginning of the reign
of George III., after which time it was no longer deemed
the sport of gentlemen. At what time the fowling-piece
first came into use is uncertain. We learn from Pope that
pheasant shooting was in vogue in Windsor forest during
the reign of Anne.
Shooting, as practised with guns to which flint and steel
locks were attached, may be said to have risen and fallen
with the Georgian era. During the latter part of that
period, great improvements were made in all the imple¬
ments and materials of shooting. Double barrels came into
use, horse-nail stubs were employed in the manufacture of
1 The places privileged were of four descriptions, viz. a forest, a chase, a park, and a warren. To these may be added a decoy for water-
fowl, which had also peculiar privileges.
“ A forest is a certain territory of woody grounds and fruitful pastures, privileged for wild beasts and fowls of forest, chase, and warren,
to rest and abide there in the safe protection of the king for his delight and pleasure; which territory of ground so privileged is meered
and bounded with unremoveable marks, meers, and boundaries, and replenished with wild beasts of venery or chase, and with great coverts
of vert for the succour of the said beasts there to abide; for the preservation and continuance of which, there are particular officers, laws,
and privileges belonging to the same, requisite for that purpose, and proper only to a forest and no other place.” Manwood's Forest Laws,
p. 143. “Beasts of forest are properly hart, hind, buck, hare, boar, and wolf, but legally all wild beasts of venery.” Coke's Institutes,
vol. i. p. 233. “ A purlieu is a portion of a forest which was disafforested by the Charta de Foresta.” Manwood, 242.
“ A chase is a privileged place for receipt of deer and beasts of the forest, and is of a middle nature, betwixt a forest and park, ft is
commonly less than a forest, and not endowed with so many liberties, as officers, laws, courts, and yet is of a larger compass than a park,
having more officers and game than a park. Every forest is a chase, but every chase is not a forest. It differeth from a park in that it is
not inclosed.” Manwood, 49, 147. “ Beasts of the chase are, the buck, doe, fox, martem, and roe.” Manwood, 144.
“ A park is a large parcel of ground privileged for wild beasts of chase by the king’s grant, or by prescription. A park must be inclosed.”
Read. Game. “ The beasts of park properly extend to the buck, doe, fox; but in common and legal sense to all the beasts of the forest.”
Read. Gone.
“ A free warren is a place privileged by prescription or grant of the king, for the preservation of the beasts and fowl of the warren, viz.
hares, conies, partridges, and pheasants.” Manwood, p. 44. “ If a pheasant, or other bird of warren, flew into a free warren, the falco¬
ner could not follow it, but it became the property of the owner of the warren.” Manwood.
A decoy for wild fowl is to this day privileged, in so far as the owner has the exclusive right to the birds frequenting it; and no person
is allowed to fire a gun or otherwise make a disturbance within a reasonable distance of it, without permission from the owner.
SHOO
Shooting, barrels, the patent breech and percussion-cap were invent-
s^-v^^ed, and the wire-cartridge has since been introduced. Not
the least improvement has been that in the manufacture of
gunpowder. The excellence of our guns and dogs has
tended much to spread the love of shooting, which has be¬
come the most popular and universal of British field sports.
It has been remarked, that England (Great Britain) is pe¬
culiarly the land of sportsmen, the very name being unknown
in all other countries. The observation is in a great mea¬
sure true, for, if we look around the globe, we find that
wherever wild animals are killed for the sake of sport, it is
mostly by the Englishman. In Sweden the Englishman
alone kills the bear for sport. The natives kill it for the
sake of reward, or to rid themselves of a noxious neighbour.
Their method is generally thus: The strength of the country
is summoned en masse, and several hundreds of people
armed, form a circle many miles in circumference, and
march forward until they meet in the centre, by which
means great numbers of bears, wolves, and lynxes are de¬
stroyed. But this is not done for sport; it is a compulsory
matter, and the people engaged in it are paid by the go¬
vernment ; it is a species of feudal duty, which the able-
bodied are called upon to perform whenever public safety
requires it. In Asia, the only sportsman that encounters
the royal tiger is the Englishman; the native shekerrie
shoots the tiger for profit. There also the buffalo and the
boar are hunted by the Englishman alone. In Africa, it is
the Englishman who hunts the lion, the hippopotamus, and
the giraffe. And in America, it is the Englishman, or Eng¬
lish settler, who hunts the panther, the bison, and the bear,
for sport; the natives do so from necessity. Since, then,
the Englishman is the universal sportsman, it behoves the
officer, the emigrant, and the tourist, to make themselves
acquainted not only with what may be called the first prin¬
ciples of sporting, but more especially with the sports pe¬
culiar to the countries to which they are proceeding, a
theoretical knowledge of which may be gleaned from the
volumes which annually proceed from the pens of our ad¬
venturous countrymen. v
The Itifle. The Rifle. The only fire-arms used by the sportsman
are the rifle, the musket, and the fowling-piece; the latter may
be classified into the swivel-gun, which is fired from a rest,
and the shoulder-gun. A short, wide-bored musket, charg¬
ed with a round or oval iron ball, was formerly used for the
destruction of such animals as the lion, tiger, or bear. In
modern times, the musket has been superseded by the rifle,
and the iron ball by a leaden one, hardened with tin and
weighted with quicksilver. A short piece is said to be pre¬
ferred to a long one for shooting tigers, bears, and the like,
as it may be more readily loaded, and is more easily ma¬
naged in cases of emergency; indeed we apprehend the
shooter should seldom fire, except when the animal is so
near to him that if he aim coolly, he can scarcely fail to
lodge a ball. We subjoin the method of taking aim at wild
beasts from practical sporting writers. Captain Williamson
gives the following instructions for shooting tigers :l * “ If
the motion of an animal through the grass be perceived, the
nearest elephant should be halted ; and its left shoulder
being pointed towards the moving object, is the most
favourable position for taking a good aim. The hunter
should fire without hesitation, observing to proportion his
level as far within the space between himself and the tops
of the yielding grass as the height of the cover may dictate;
by this precaution, equally necessary when shooting fish that
are in any degree beneath the surface of the water, the iron
ball will, in general, take effect.” Mr. Lloyd says,a “ If a
man purposes attacking a bear at close quarters, a double
ting. 211
gun is decidedly the best; if it be in the winter season, a Shooting,
detonator is very preferable. Owing to having flint locks,
both my barrels, on one occasion, missed fire, which might
have been attended with most serious consequences; a large
ball is very desirable. The best points to hit a bear, or any '
other animal, are in the forehead, in the breast, under the '
ear, or at the back of the shoulder ; bullets placed in other
parts of the body of an old bear usually have little immedi¬
ate effect. If the snow be deep, and the bear is crossing #
a man, he should always aim very low ; he must often, in¬
deed, fire into the snow, if he expects to hit the heart of the
beast.”
In 1826 it was found necessary to destroy an elephant in
Exeter ’Change. A detachment of foot guards were called
in, and directed by surgeons where to fire; and 152bullets
were fired before it was disabled. This proves how utterly
ineffectual the leaden musket ball would be in the forest.
Captain Harris, in his South African tour, in 1837, took
with him a double-barrelled rifle, carrying balls two ounces
weight, and thus armed, no beast could stand before him.
Speaking of the forehead of the elephant, he says,3 “ A ball
hardened with tin or quicksilver readily penetrates to the
brain, and proves instantaneously fatal.” He gives instances
of his killing large elephants at a single shot, and seems to
have had no difficulty with the “ king of beasts,” which he
has slain “ in every stage from whelphood to imbecility.”
According to Captain Harris, travelling through countries
infested by wild beasts is not so dangerous as it is com¬
monly thought to be. He says, indeed, that during part of his
journey, “ scarcely a day passed without our seeing two or
three lions, but, like the rest of the animal creation, they
uniformly retreated when disturbed by the approach of
man. However troublesome we found the intrusions of
the feline race during the night, they seldom, at any other
time, shewed the least disposition to molest us, unless we
commenced hostilities.” He, however, does justice to the
terrors of the maned monarch when he says, “ those who
have seen the monarch of the forest in crippling captivity
only, immured in a cage barely double his own length, with
his sinews relaxed by confinement, have seen but the sha¬
dow of that animal which ‘ clears the desert with his roll¬
ing eye.’ ”
Fallow-Deer Shooting. There are only three kinds of Fallow-
deer in Great Britain; the red, the fallow, and the roe. The deer shoot-
fallow deer, which was the dun deer of the days of Robin Hood, *nS-
is the common deer of the parks. The positions of a stag at
rest when fired at may be reduced to three, for each of which
a different aim should be adopted. First, when presenting
his side to the shooter, the aim should be low behind the
shoulder. Secondly, when standing obliquely from the shoot¬
er, the aim should be just under the ear, which is a vital
part; there is too the chance, when this aim is selected,
of reaching the brain through the upper or back part of
the cheek, or of striking the animal in some other part of
the neck, which will generally bring him down or so disable
him that he will be readily recovered. It may be observed
here, that the quickest mode of dispatching a dog, horse, or
any other domestic animal is to shoot them through the
neck, just under the ear. Thirdly, when standing or moving
directly from the shooter, the aim should be at the back of
the head; thus a chance is secured, should the part aimed at
not be struck, of lodging a ball in the neck or spine. When
a deer is approaching the shooter, or standing with its head
towards him, he should wait until he can have a cross, an
oblique, or a driving shot. When a deer is wounded, how¬
ever slightly, one or more dogs should be instantly slipped.
The dogs for this purpose should, as far as practicable, com-
1 Oriental Field Sports, by Captain Thomas Williamson. London, 1805.
* Field Sports of the North of Europe, by L. Lloyd, Esq. London, 1828.
* Wild Sports of Southern Africa, by Captain William Cornwallis Harris. Loudon, 1835.
212 SHOO
Shooting, bine the nose of the bloodhound with the speed of the grey-
hound. A kind of wiry-haired greyhound is used for this
purpose in the Highlands.
Deer stalk. Deer Stalking. The red deer, which is larger, and
inS- the roe-buck, which is smaller than the fallow deer, are
found chiefly in the uncultivated mountainous districts of
the North. ^To destroy the deer of an adversary was once
a mode of annoyance. Chevy Chase, it would seem, from
the three first stanzas of the famous ballad of that name,
was an expedition of this description :
« To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Earl Piercy took his way;
The child may rue that was unborn,
The hunting of that day.
“ The stout Earl of Northumberland,
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish icoods.
Three summer's days to take,
“ With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need,
To aim their shafts aright.”
The pursuit of deer with the rifle is termed deer-stalking.
To kill the semi-domesticated fallow deer requires little skill
beyond that possessed by a good marksman. The skill of
the deer-stalker, in pursuit of the red deer, is not only de¬
pendant on a good use of the rifle, but is shewn in his abi¬
lity to find and approach deer; to do which successfully re¬
quires the most unwearied perseverance. Many of the
Scottish forests wherein the stalking of deer in their wild
state is practised, are of immense extent. It is on such
tracts of land as the forests of Mar and Atholethat the red
deer is sought. The forest of Athole alone is said to be more
than forty miles long, and in one part eighteen broad, ofwhich
about 30,000 imperial acres are devoted to grouse, 50,000
partly to grouse and partly to deer, and there are reserved sole ¬
ly for deer-stalking 52,000 imperial acres. In these vast soli¬
tudes, the Highlander stalks the antlered monarchs of the
herd, harts which, a century ago, bore the scars of the wea¬
pons of his ancestors. An old Celtic rhyme which has been
thus Englished, shews the great age to which the deer and
the eagle are supposed to arrive.
Thrice the age of a dog is that of a horse ;
Thrice the age of a horse is that of a man ;
Thrice the age of a man is that of a deer ;
Thrice the age of a deer is that of an eagle.
So far as regards the age of the eagle, these lines contain
an assertion which can neither be proved nor negatived. It
is different as regards deer. There has long existed a cus-
om of marking fauns that have been caught, and as each
forester has a distinct mark known as his own, the age of a
marked deer can generally be nearly ascertained.
The deer-stalker has recourse to a thousand manoeuvres
to approach a herd or solitary stag. The animals are usual¬
ly descried at a long distance, either by the naked eye, or
by the aid of an achromatic telescope, and the mode ot ap¬
proaching them entirely depends upon the situation in which
they are discovered. Should it seem impracticable to steal
upon them while at rest, the stalkers, armed with rifles, wait
in the defiles through which the deer are expected to pass,
whilst the attendants make a circuitous movement to get be¬
yond the deer and drive them in the direction required.
I he deer-stalker, besides being an excellent shot, should
have good judgment of ground and a hardy frame, combin¬
ed with the patience and power to undergo extreme fatigue
and privation.
When the red deer is fired at, he is usually at a conside-
TING.
rable distance, and perhaps bounding away at full speed. Shooting
Behind the shoulder, therefore, is the favourite mark. “ In
killing deer,”1 says Mr. Maxwell, “ it is necessary to select
the head, or aim directly behind the shoulder. A body-
wound may eventually destroy the animal, but the chances
are that he will carry off the ball.” Mr. Scrope,2 whose ex¬
perience and success in deer-stalking render his remarks
valuable, says, “ the most perfect shots and celebrated
sportsmen never succeed in killing deer without practice; .
indeed, at first, they are quite sure to miss the fairest run¬
ning shots. This arises, I think, from their firing at dis¬
tances to which they have been wholly unaccustomed, and
is no reflection upon their skill. It is seldom that you fire
at a less distance than a hundred yards, and this is as near
as you wmuld wish to get. The usual range will be between
this and two hundred yards, beyond which, as a general rule,
I never think it prudent to fire, lest I should hit the wrong
animal, though deer may be killed at a much greater dis¬
tance. Now the sportsman who has been accustomed to
shot guns, is apt to fire with the same sort of aim that he
takes at a grouse or any other common game; thus he in¬
variably fires behind the quarry; for he does not consider
that the ball, having three, four, or perhaps five times the
distance to travel that his shot has, will not arrive at its des¬
tination nearly so soon; consequently, in a cross shot, he
must keep his rifle more in advance. The exact degree,
as he well knows, will depend upon the pace and remote¬
ness of the object. Deer go much faster than they appear
to do, and their pace is not uniform, like the flying of a
bird; but they pitch in running, and this pitch must be cal¬
culated upon.”
The interest and anxiety attending this sport must be as
intense as the pursuit is laborious. After climbing for hours
the mountain side, with the torrent thundering down the
granite crags above him, and tremendous chasms yawning
beneath him, the stalker, with his glass, at length descries
in some remote valley, a herd too distant for the naked eye.
He now descends into the tremendous glen beneath, fords
the stream, wades the morass, and by a circuitous route
threads the most intricate ravines to avoid giving the deer
the wind. Having arrived near the brow of the hill, on the
other side of which he believes them to be, he approaches
on hands and knees, or rather vermicularly, and his attend¬
ant, with a spare rifle, does the same. A moment of breath¬
less suspense ensues. He may be within shot of the herd,
or they may be many miles distant, for he has not had a
glimpse of them since he first discovered them an hour ago.
A moment, and the antlers appear; another, and the herd
is in sight. Resting his rifle on the heather, he takes a
cool shot at the finest hart, which falls; the rest bound
away ; a shot from the spare rifle follows, the “ smack” of
the ball is heard, and the glass tells that another noble hart
must die. The dogs, which had been kept far back, are
slipped, and are out of sight in a moment. The sportsman
follows ; he again climbs a considerable way up the heights;
he applies the telescope, but nothing of life can li£ behold,
except his few followers on the knolls around him. With
his ear to the ground he listens, and amidst the roar of in¬
numerable torrents, faintly hears the dogs baying the quarry,
but sees them not; he moves on from hill to hill towards
the sound, and eventually another shot makes the hart his
own. The deer is then gralloched, and partially covered
with peat; the horns are left upright, and a handkerchief
is tied to them to mark the spot, that the attendants may
find it at the close of the day. Let the reader imagine how
much the interest of all this is enhanced by the majestic
scenery of an immense, trackless, treeless forest, to which
domesticated life is a stranger, where mountain, corrie, cairn,
1 Wild Sports in the West, by W. H. Maxwell, Esq. London, 1833.
* The Art of Deer-Stalking, by William Scrope, Esq., F.L.S. London, 1839.
SHOOTING.
213
Shooting, and glen, thrown promiscuously together, present the grand-
.^■y^est of savage landscapes, which, as the field of wild adven¬
ture, cast into shade what Mr. Scrope calls “ the tame and
hedge-bound country of the south.”
Fhe Fowl- The Fowling-piece. Before making choice of a gun,
ng-piece. the shooter should determine what weight he can conveni¬
ently carry. The heaviest gun, as regards shooting, wall be
most effective,but he should recollectthatunless he be avery
robust person, a light gun will, on the whole, bring him more
game, as a fewadditional pounds intheweightof a gun makes
a deal of difference in the distance a person can travel in a
day, and, moreover, he cannot shoot as well when fatigued.
The most approved guns under the system which pre¬
scribes a heavy charge of powder, and a light one of very
small shot, are double barrels, weighing, according to the
fancy of the shooter, from six to nine pounds, and bearing
the following relative proportions of length to guage: four¬
teen guage, thirty-four inches long; seventeen guage,
thirty-two inches long ; twenty guage, thirty inches long.
Taking the season throughout, we are convinced, that the
most effective gun is a short, wide-bored one, each barrel
being charged with rather less than 1|- drams avoirdupois
weight of powder, and full 2 oz. of No. 2 shot, containing
220 pellets. This is the general charge, but it may be
varied according to circumstances. When game is wild, we
would charge the reserve barrel, and, on some occasions,
both barrels, with 2|- drams of powder, and a No. 5 blue
cartridge for partridges, and with a No. 4 or 5 red cartridge
for grouse shooting. No. 7 shot is best for snipe shooting.
Small shot may be used for partridge shooting in Septem¬
ber, though wm do not see any reason for not adhering to
No. 2, except that birds very near the gun are liable to be
more disfigured by it.
Barrels twenty-six or twenty-eight inches long, and four¬
teen or sixteen guage, are of convenient size. We think
it will not be questioned that these barrels are as efficient
as long narrow-bored ones for short distances, viz. under
thirty-five yards, and nine-tenths of game brought to the
bag is killed within that distance. And for making long
shots, the wire-cartridge has obviated the necessity of using
long guns. A most material advantage attending the use
of a short gun is, the comparative ease with which it may
be carried. A pound additional weight at the breech is not
so fatiguing to the arm as half that weight added to the
end of the barrel; it is the top-heavy gun that distresses
the shooter.
Different proportions of powder and shot are required for
different sizes of shot. The following may be the proper
proportions for a gun not exceeding eight pounds:
Size of shot.
Xo.
Weight of shot. Weight of powrder.
oz. drains.
3
4
5
6
7
II
If
If
n
r
1 2
if
2
2{r
These proportions cannot be materially deviated from
without destroying the effect. If the powder is decreased,
the discharge is weakened; if the powder is increased, the
shot spreads; if the weight of shot is decreased, there will
not be a sufficient number of pellets for effective shooting;
if the weight of shot is increased, the discharge is weakened.
The usual objection to large shot is, that after it has tra¬
velled thirty yards it becomes dispersed; but let the powder
be reduced to less than dram, and that objection fails. If
it is not overcharged with powder, a gun will shoot No. 2 Shooting,
shot close enough to kill at from thirty-five to fifty yards,
with more certainty than if charged with small shot, and
two or three drams of powder.
It is not so much the velocity as the momentum of a
shot that renders it effective. The momentum of a shot
increases in a direct ratio with its weight. The momen¬
tum of a No. 2 shot much more than compensates for the
diminished weight of powder and additional weight of lead
that wre have recommended. Large shot droops more than
small, and sooner comes to the ground, as it is not carried
with the same velocity. It is the momentum, and not the
velocity, that the shooter must look to.
We do not suppose that feathers or fur of game present
any serious obstacle to either large or small shot; but if
they did, the fact that large shot is most effective for shoot¬
ing wild fowl armed with down, at once tells that it must
be so for shooting game which is not so protected. Ano¬
ther advantage of large shot is, that when the aim taken is
not quite correct, a single outside pellet will often bring
down a bird, when it would require many small shots to do
so.
The shooting of barrels depends mainly on three things,
viz., the metal of which they are made, the boring, and the
breeching. The quality of the metal is of much impor¬
tance. All barrels expand when fired; and those made of in¬
ferior metal expand more than those made of stub-twist. Mr.
Greener, in his excellent treatise on the “ Gun,”1 says,
“ that a barrel is a spring on an extended scale, and the
more we can make it partake of the nature of a spring, the
better. If we must have expansion, let us have it in its
most beneficial form ; an expansion that will aid the pow¬
der in expelling the lead. This cannot be entirely obtain¬
ed, nor can the quantity of expansion be entirely destroyed,
though you were to make your barrels of the weight of a
twenty-four pounder. We must, therefore, decrease it, by
making our iron as elastic and tenacious as possible. The
qualities of elasticity and tenacity can only be obtained by
hammer-hardening the iron. Barrels hammer-hardened will
shoot as well without any artificial friction, as those whose
friction is extreme, yet have not yet been benefited by the
process.”
The term friction implies a gradual contraction of the bar¬
rel towards the muzzle, which retards the progress of the
shot, that more time may be allowed to the powder to burn.
“ The shooting of all barrels,” says Mr. Greener, “ depends
on a certain degree of friction. The degree of friction ne¬
cessary varies according to the nature and substance of the
metal. Those metals that require least shoot best. The
object of the friction is to create a greater force, by detain¬
ing the charge longer in the barrel. If, then, there should
not be an extra quantity of powder to consume, the friction
would be a decided evil.” A greater degree of friction is
generally allowed to a short barrel than to a long one.
A gradual expansion of the barrel towards the muzzle is
termedrelief. Relief accelerates the progress of shot through
the barrels. What is the proper degree of relief or friction
for different descriptions of barrels, is a subject fruitful of
much controversy ; as is also the form of the bi’eech. The
best breech is that which will cause the greatest quantity of
powder to consume in the barrel.
Mr. Greener would not prevent the barrel expanding
when fired, by increasing its thickness, but by improving
the quality of the metal. When the barrel expands much,
or is held loosely when fired, a loss of strength is induced,
as that power which, if possible, should be exerted on the
shot, is uselessly expended in a contrary direction, whereas,
when the barrel is firmly fixed, and made of metal that only
1 The Gun, by William Greener. London, 1835.
SHOOTING.
214
Shooting, expands in a trifling degree, or, as Mr. Greener observes,
operates as a spring, that portion of the explosive force
which strikes in any direction, except against the shot, is
forced back, or rebounds upon the shot, and consequently
becomes a portion of the available strength of the charge.
Much of the force that is thrown on a solid fixed surface
is returned, but not that which is expended on an yielding
one.
Mr. Greener shews that much loss of strength is indu¬
ced by barrels not being firmly held when fired; and argues
that the mode of proving barrels by allowing them to fly
back into sand is defective, as, by reason of the projectiles
giving way in one direction and the barrels in the other at
the same time, there is not a sufficient strain on the barrels
to prove them effectively. On this subject he says, “ Let
any one take his gun and load it as usual; suspend it by
two ropes so as it can fly back; place a quire of brown paper
as directly in front of it as possible; fire it, by squeezing
the trigger and the back side of the guard together, so as
not to displace the gun; examine the impression the shot
has made in the paper. If they have stuck in at the dis¬
tance of forty yards, they have done well. Load again,
and fire from the shoulder, and you will find the shots
driven through a great number of the sheets. Load again,
but first take the barrels from the stock, lest you should
happen to break your stock, as I have seen done by a
gentleman placing his gun on a stone wall; while he rested,
the gun by accident went off and shivered the stock into
many pieces, and severely cut his hand by the splintering.
(So severe is the recoil from a gun on being fired, when
resisted by a solid, unyielding substance. When fired from
the shoulder it is different, as the body yields to the recoil,
and thus prevents that which would inevitably be inflicted,
if the shoulder were placed against a solid substance.) Se¬
cure the barrels on a piece of wood, and behind place any¬
thing firm; for instance, a piece of lead sufficiently heavy,
and that will not injure the end of the breeches, technically
called the buts, when they strike it. Having secured them
perfectly, fire the barrel in any way you can, and then ex¬
amine the force of the shots in the paper, and if you do not
find that they have penetrated further than they did when
fired from the shoulder, say my doctrine is false. It follows,
as a matter of course, from these experiments, that in shoot¬
ing, the more firmly a gun is held to the shoulder, the better
it will shoot.
“ It is upon these experiments that I found my objections
to the practice of allowing best barrels, when proved, to fly
back into sand. Such a mode of proof is of no use. Were
they fixed like common barrels, the force of the proof
would be increased one-half. I doubt whether the present
method be any test at all. I am satisfied that the force ex¬
erted in this mode of proof on the barrel, is not equal to the
pressure of a large sporting charge, when fired from the
shoulder.
“ The fact that the shooting powers of a gun are increas¬
ed by its being fixed in an immoveable frame, is proved
with the practice of mortars. Mortars on iron beds, and
these firmly embedded in the earth, will throw a shell
farther when on the ground, than when placed on a plat¬
form, or on board a ship. It is for the purpose of destroy¬
ing the recoil, that mortars for sea-service, though of the
same calibre as those intended for land-service, are made
three times the weight. Dr. Hutton states, that he found
no advantage by retarding the recoil in practice with artillery.
He means, that no advantage is gained by stopping at three feet
a gun accustomed to recoil to the distance of six. The state¬
ment is perfectly true. If he were to allow a gun to recoil
only an inch, and then strike against a solid substance, he
would gain nothing. For if it recoil ever so little, the shooting
force is as much weakened as if it recoiled twice as far.
“ To increase that force, a steady fixed resistance is re¬
quired. The velocity of the projectile depends on the force Shooting,
of the immediate impulse. Before a gun, suffered to recoil,
could rebound from striking som^ solid substance in its re¬
coil, the charge would be gone, and could, therefore, re¬
ceive no additional impetus from that rebound. The truth
of this fact may be illustrated by throwing a hand-ball
against any loose body with sufficient force to displace it.
However hard or elastic that body might be, the ball would
not rebound from it, but would fall perpendicularly down.
Fix and secure that same body, and then the ball will re¬
bound with little less force than that with which it was
thrown against it. So it is with gunpowder. If it meet
with a firm resistance, it will rebound and project the ball
or shot with additional force.”
On Charging the Fowling-piece. It may be premised
that all powder, before being put into the barrel, is more or
less damp; and most barrels, especially if they have been only
imperfectly cleaned, or have been fired and laid by since
being cleaned, are also more or less liable to damp. A
portion, therefore, of powder should be flashed off in each
barrel immediately before charging, for the triple purpose
of expelling damp, proving whether the passage through the
pivots on which the caps are to be placed, is open, and
warming the barrels, so that any little moisture in the charge
of powder may be absorbed. The barrels are then held per¬
pendicularly and the powder poured in, in such manner that
the wdiole charge may reach the bottom; and a wadding is then
pressed down upon it. The shot is next poured in and an¬
other wadding pressed upon it. The shooter next removes
the remains of the caps, and looks whether the pow der has
found its way to the orifice of the pivots, and if it has, he
places fresh caps on. If the pow'der is not visible at the ori¬
fice of the pivots, he removes any obstacle with a pen-knife
or pricker, and contrives to push down a few grains of
powder.
Wire-Cartridges. Thewire-cartridge(fig.l.)wrasinvent- Wire-car¬
ed in 1828 byMr. Jenour. It consists of a cylin¬
drical case or net-work of wire, the meshes of
which are somewhat more than an eighth of an
inch square; at the lower end the wire partially
closes; the wire case is then enveloped in fine
paper, and at the upper end a cork wadding,
cut so as to fit the guage of the gun, is af¬
fixed; the case is then filled with shot and bone
dust. The first cartridges made, though
ingenious in construction, were defective in
operation. It was a matter of no ordinary
difficulty to fabricate them in such a manner
that the shot should leave the case at the pre¬
cise distance required. This at first, could
not be done so that they might be trusted in every in¬
stance. Every alternate cartridge might fire well; but
the rest would fire irregularly, being liable to ball; that
is, the shot would not leave the case until fifty or sixty
yards from the gun, and such cartridges wrere, of course,
not only useless but dangerous. They have been from
time to time improved, and almost every difficulty has been
overcome. The sporting cartridges now made never ball;
they act with a considerable degree of precision and cer¬
tainty; and that they may be safely trusted may be inferred
from the fact that they are often preferred by persons en¬
gaged in pigeon matches. Various materials were used ex¬
perimentally to fill up the interstices between the pellets,
but nothing seems to answer so well as the material now
used. Another difficulty in their construction presented
itself. It was requisite to accommodate them to the vari¬
ous methods of boring pursued by different gunmakers, and
the unequal length of barrels, the object in view being to
produce a cartridge that would suit all barrels of the
same guage; and this has been, in a great measure, if not
wholly, accomplished. The liability to ball which, notwith-
Fig. 1.
SHOO T I N G.
215
Shooting, standing various improvements made m them, was not
effectually obviated for many years, during which they
were tried, and in many instances prematurely condemned,
either from real defects, or from the parties not knowing how
to use them. They were not brought to perfection until
the year 1837.
The wire-cartridges possess two principal advantages over
loose shot; they are propelled with greater velocity, and
thrown more evenly. A loose charge is always thrown in
patches ; the shots of a cartridge, as seen on a target, are
comparatively equi-distant from each other. There are four
classes of wire-cartridges, which the patentees have named
the battue, the blue, the red, and the green; each intended
for a different range. There is some little difference in the
construction of each of the three kinds; the meshes of the
frame-work are larger in the battue and the blue than in the
red, and in the red than in the green, and there are doubt¬
less other differences not perceptible to the uninitiated.
The battue and the blue cartridges are intended for general
use; the battue for the shortest distance; the blues will
kill several yards further than loose shot of the same size,
and of the four kinds, are, in our opinion, decidedly to be
preferred; each blue cartridge being thrown more nearly
alike, they are more certain in their operation than the red
and the green, which are intended for longer distances. The
red may be serviceable in open places, when game is wild,
and the shooter is provided with a gun of not less than four¬
teen guage, or with a very short barrel, which does not
throw its shot very strongly. The green cartridges are in¬
tended chiefly for wild-fowl shooting; these should be used
in barrels of not less than twelve guage. The red and
green cartridges retain the shot in the case longer than the
others, and are carried with an astonishing force to an in¬
credible distance, and at the same time very closely. The
red may generally be trusted for long distances, especially
from barrels of large calibre; but at short distances the
smallness of the circle they describe renders them objection¬
able. The green cartridges should never be used for shoot¬
ing game. The blue and battue only should be used in
barrels of small guage.
The wire-cartridges do not require either a greater or
less charge of powder than loose shot, but there is this pe¬
culiarity attending them. A heavy charge of powder throws
the shot from the cartridge more closely than a small charge,
by reason of its allowing more time for the escape of shot
from the net-work. This is exactly the reverse of the
manner in which the loose charge acts. The greater the
charge of powder when loose shot and wadding are used,
the more is the shot dispersed, and vice versa. Either loose
shot or cartridge shot is projected with greater force and ve¬
locity when a heavy charge of powder is used. When birds
lie well, we would recommend the shooter who adopts the
cartridge to charge lightly with powder, to give the shots
time to spread well; when moderately wild, we would charge
lightly with powder in the first barrel, and heavily in the
reserve barrel; but when birds are very wild, both barrels
should be charged with as much powder as the shoulder
can conveniently bear, so as to give the charge the greatest
possible force, and at the same time the greatest practicable
degree of closeness. It is at long distances that the supe¬
riority of the cartridge is conspicuous; when the loose
charge is used, the increase of force that is obtained by
loading heavily only tends to dispersing the shot, thereby
rendering the increased momentum of little avail.
Amongst the advantages attending the adoption of wire-
cartridges, it may be mentioned, that the recoil is not so
severe, and consequently a lighter gun may be used, than Shooting,
with the loose charge, and this is a great relief to the
shooter in a heavy country, and especially on the hills in
August, when the heat of the sun is frequently overpower¬
ing. The cartridges act well when fired from short barrels,
perhaps more satisfactorily than when fired from long ones.
The increased facility and expedition of loading is another
advantage which should not be overlooked.
The main objection to wire-cartridges, and it is a ma¬
terial one to a person who is an indifferent marksman, is,
that they do not describe a sufficient circle at short distan¬
ces. When game is wild they are invaluable for the re¬
serve barrel of a double gun.
The wire-cartridges usually kept on sale contain, for the
different guages, the following weight of shot.
Calibre.
20 ..
19 ..
18 ..
17 ..
16 ..
15 ..
Weight
of shot.
. 1
. 1
. 1
. 11
. 14-
Calibre
14
13
12
11
10
Weight
of shot.
. l^-oz.
• If
1 a
:!?
l-’i
* x4
When ordering cartridges, it is necessary to give the
guage of the barrel, the weight of the cartridge, the size of
shot, and the description-, that is, whether battue, blue, red,
or green.
The green cartridges, fired from a common-sized fowling-
piece, are not to be depended upon for any distance nearer
than fifty yards; and, for that reason, they should only be
used for wild-fowl shooting, for which sport they may answer
very well when fired from a reserve barrel. We would not
recommend their adoption, even for wild-fowl shooting,
to a person using a common-sized single gun, since by so
doing he would hazard missing when the most favourable
opportunities of killing presented themselves. A No. 3 red
cartridge would suit better.
The wire-cartridge has been proved to be much superior
to the loose charge for the stanchion, and heavy shoulder
guns used on the sea-coast and rivers. For the largest
shoulder guns, B or BB loose shot, or a No. 1 cartridge is
usually adopted. A A loose shot, or a B or No. 1 cartridge
will better suit the stanchion gun.
Taking Aim. As the manner of taking aim is a matter Taking
of primary importance to success in shooting, a few obser- aim-
vations on that head may not be misplaced here. When
the dog points, or when birds rise near to him, the shooter
should immediately draw back both hammers with the right
thumb 51 but should the birds rise at a considerable distance,
to save time he need only cock one barrel, as in this case,
he has only to fire once. He should never be in haste. It
is more prudent to let the bird escape than to fire hastily.
If on open ground, he should not fire until the bird is at
least twenty-five paces distant, by which means he avoids,
on the one hand, the hazard of mangling it, and, on the other,
a probability of missing ; for at the distance of from twenty-
five to thirty yards, whether the piece be charged with
loose shot or the wire-cartridges, the range of the whole
charge will be wide, yet the pellets will be so close together
that nothing can escape, if the aim be true, and, what is of
no less moment, the finger also obedient to the eye. He
should be deliberate in bringing up the piece to his shoulder,
and in making it to bear on the object, but the moment he
has brought it to bear, the finger should act in co-operation
with the eye, the eye being kept open the while, so that
.lany experienced sportsmen disapprove of the practice of cocking both barrels at the same time. They think that it ought to be a
rule never to cock either barrel, until the game be upon the wing, then that the left barrel should be cocked and fired, and thereafter taken
rom t e shoulder. The right barrel should then be cocked and fired if necessary ; if not discharged, it should be put back to the half cock,
find ul6 eft rp.lnnrlprT
216 SHOO'
Shooting, the shooter may see whether the bird falls, or feathers fly
'—VW from it; for if he does not, he may rely that there is some¬
thing defective in his system of managing the fowling-piece.
A shooter only requires coolness, a very little mechanical
knowledge, and a gun properly mounted. Possessing these
requisites, he will not be deficient in any other which he
will not be easily able to supply. The novice should
learn to shoot high enough at winged, and low enough at
footed game, and well forward at both. Pie should seldom
shoot directly at the object; but at the wing, if the bird is
moving obliquely from him, the head, if the bird is rising,
the legs, if descending; but if crossing, or flying obliquely at
a considerable angle,'he should make an allowance of a few
inches, according to the distance of the object from him. It
is not usual, except in the cases of blackcock, to shoot at any
objest approaching the shooter. It should be allowed to pass,
when he turns round and fires at it as it moves from him.
The Rook. The Rook. We commence our notice of the different
kinds of shooting with the fowling-piece now chiefly prac¬
tised, with a few observations on those birds, not coming
under the denomination of game, which occasionally afford
the first lessons to the younger brethren of the trigger, and
which therefore may properly take precedence, in descrip¬
tion, of the more difficult branches of the art.
Young rooks, in the month of May, are generally shot
whilst sitting on the branches, near their nests, on the tops
of the loftiest trees, so that it requires a steady aim, and
hard-stricken shot to bring them down with certainty ; for
if only wounded, they will frequently cling to the bough
with their claws, and die suspended in that manner. The
rook should be fired at with a small charge of rather large
shot, and a heavy charge of powder. Rooks are gregarious,
and feed on grain, worms, and insects. It is only during
the season of incubation, and until the young ones can fly,
that they frequent the rookery, which is mostly a small
plantation, or clump of old trees, and near to some habita¬
tion. When rooks choose any particular cluster of trees, or
plantation to build in, the same trees will, if standing, be
tenanted again the next year by the same rooks and their
offspring, notwithstanding they may have been much fired
at, or in some other way disturbed. This opinion is not
universal. In some counties there exists a prejudice against
the practice of firing at rooks with gunpowder, especially
when the rooks are few, and the number of trees limited,
lest the rooks should desert the rookery ; and, therefore, that
as little alarm as possible may be created, they are fired at
with balls from the air-gun, and sometimes the young shooter
will try his skill with the cross-bow. The old rook is
distinguished fi'om the young one by the thick end of
either mandible being white; and the beak of the young rook
if black to the insertion. They are distinguished from
other birds of a somewhat similar appearance, by a slight
variation of colour ; the rook has a blue, the carrion-crow
a brown tinge, tljg jackdaw is partially grey, the raven is jet
black.
After young rooks have been fired at several times, some
of the strongest and best-fledged will quit the rookery, and
alight on hedges or trees at some distance, where the shooter
flushes them, and they afford good sport to the tyro learning
to shoot birds on the wing. A warm sunny day is best for
rook-shooting. In cold weather, particularly on windy days,
young rooks will not quit their nests.
The Wood- The Wood-pigeon. The wood-pigeon is little regarded
pigcqn. by the sportsman. A shot may be obtained by lying in
ambush early in the morning, near to some wheat stubble,
or. field of newly-sown grain, where the birds feed; but
the best sport the wood-pigeon affords is at the roosting
places, where the shooter ought to take his station an hour
before sunset. It is difficult to obtain a shot in any other
manner, except when the birds are young, when they are some¬
times killed in trees, in the same manner as young rooks.
r X N G.
The shooter in pursuit of game often sees them, but rarely ob- Shooting.*
tains a shot at them. Sometimes, but it is usually when he^-^'-^
is not aware of them, they will suffer him to approach close
to the tree in which they are perched. The tree is gene¬
rally a large one, and perhaps in full foliage, and the shooter
hears the rustling of the wings of the decamping birds, but
seldom secures a shot. Whenever a wood-pigeon leaves a
tree, the shooter should prepare for others, since, when
there are several’in the same tree, they will not leave it
simultaneously, but move oft' in succession. They are
large strong birds, and require heavy shot to bring them
down.
Shooting tame pigeons is becoming a very common
amusement; but it is oftener practised to decide a wager, than
prove the skill of the parties. The Red House at Battersea,
near London, is the scene of the principal matches. The
birds are sprung from a trap, which is usually placed twenty-
one yards from the gun ; the birds of each person are pro¬
vided by his opponent; blue rocks are the favourites ; very
heavy guns are used, but the weight of shot is usually li¬
mited. The birds must fall within a limited distance
from the trap, or they are not counted amongst the success¬
ful shots.
The lark, field- fare, lapioing, golden plover, and dottrel. The Lark,
Larks and field-fares are often the object of the young &c.
shooter’s pursuit. Field-fares, the blue-backs and red-wings,
arrive in October, and remain during winter. They are
easily approached during a frost, or when the ground is co¬
vered with snow. They will then be found in search of the
berries of the mountain-ash, the holly, and the hawthorn,
and are killed in great numbers. Like wood-pigeons,
field-fares do not leave a tree, or rise from the ground
simultaneously, so that when one bird flies off, if the
shooter will hasten to the spot, he will, in all probability,
meet with a lagger.
The lapwing or pewit is a bird much sought for by the
juvenile shooter. Lapwings are commonly found on marshes,
or wet land abounding in rushes. Except during the sea¬
son of incubation, they collect in flocks, and are so very
wary as to be difficult tff approach. They are often killed
for the sake of their toppings, which are useful to the an¬
gler. As they wing round the shooter, it is extremely dif¬
ficult to decide whether they are within range or not;
they should be within a moderate distance when fired at,
or they will escape in the interstices of the charge, as the
size of the body bears a small proportion to the apparent
size of the bird when on the wing. It is not uncommon to
see several feathers cut out of the wings, and the bird fly
away as if unhurt.
All these birds afford amusement chiefly to schoolboys.
The sportsman in pursuit of game does not think them
worthy attention; but the golden or whistling plover, and
the dottrel, which are birds often met with in hilly districts,
are generally considered as worth firing at, if they accidentally
come in the way, but are not worth the trouble of follow-
ing.
The Land-rail. The land-rail or corn-crake is a bird of The Land-
passage. It may be found with pointers or spaniels early raft,
in spring, in hedges or long grass. The dogs for this sport
should not be staunch ; such as will foot the birds are best
as it is with great difficulty they can be made to rise. It is
only during the first fortnight after their arrival that they
may be fairly killed in spring; after that time they begin
to pair. In August and September, the sportsman some¬
times casually meets with a land-rail, whilst beating for
other birds.
Wild-fowl. Wild-fowl shooting is practised in vari- Wild-fowl*
ous ways. The method of proceeding depends entirely on
the situation in which the shooter expects to find the birds.
In some of the inland counties, except during hard frosts,
they are not met with anywhere but on large pools and ri-
/
SHOO
Shooting, vers, and are only to be approached by having recourse to
some stratagem, as waiting in a shed, or on an island, or
on the banks of a pool, or stalking behind a horse trained
to the purpose. The largest shoulder gun that is at hand
may be used charged with the red or green wire-car¬
tridges, the size of shot being regulated by the bore of the
piece.
During a severe frost, wild-fowl are compelled to leave
the pools, and are then found in small rivers, brooks, or in
drains where there are springs of fresh water. The flights
being broken, ducks are found singly or only few in num¬
ber, and are consequently easy of access, and may be shot
with a common fowling-piece. The size of shot should be
No. 2, or 3. Wild-fowl are so fortified with down on some
parts as to resist any but hard-stricken shot. Their back
is the most vulnerable part, and all kinds of wild-fowl pre¬
sent it to the shooter as they rise. They are also easily
brought down when they present a cross shot; but when
approaching it is not advisable to fire at them. If a dog
accompany the shooter, it should follow at heel. As the
shooter pursues the course of a river or brook, he should
keep out of sight as much as possible, and come suddenly
on every turn or winding. When there is a mist during a
frost, wild ducks will remain in the brooks and gutters all
day. The earlier in the morning the better for this sport.
Ducks may also be killed on the wing, on the verge of
night, by the shooter lying hid near to fresh water springs.
If it be a dark evening, he need only wait about a quarter
of an hour, but if moonlight he may wait about an hour.
They may also be walked up on a moonlight night, when,
if they rise above the horizon, they may be killed al¬
most as easily as in the day time. The objection to night
shooting is, that birds knocked down are often lost. These
are the principal methods by which ducks are killed by any
but professed wild-fowl shooters.
The larger kinds of wild-fowl, such as hoopers (wild
swans) and geese, can rarely be brought down by the
common fowling-piece, unless struck on the head or back.
Wild-fowl shooting, in creeks and harbours on the sea-coast,
is conducted in a very different manner, and on a larger
scale of operations. There are two kinds of guns used for
the purpose, the shoulder-gun and the punt-gun ; the latter
being fired from a rest, or frame, or carriage, either in a
boat or some other floating craft. Mr. Greener, to whose
work we have already referred, says, “ Never make duck
guns (shoulder-guns) above seven-eighths in the bore, if you
wish them to kill at a great distance, and not less than
fifteen or sixteen pounds weight, and full four feet long.”
Colonel Hawker,1 who has devoted nearly one hundred and
fifty pages to the subject of wild-fowl shooting, says, “ The
barrel of a punt-gun, to be in good proportion, should, I con¬
ceive, (including the patent plug, of about six pounds weight,
and from two to three inches in length), be about seventy
or eighty pounds weight, from seven to nine feet long, and
from an inch and a quarter to an inch and a half bore, ac¬
cording to the one length and weight, or the other. The
smaller the bore is, in reason, the further you can kill at a
small number of birds; but the larger size of these two shoots
the best, and is the most regular pattern. Any thing be¬
yond that size seldom answers.” Both these writers seem
to agree that the common punt-gun, though it weigh eighty
or one hundred pounds, cannot be charged to the extent of
its shooting powers, by reason of the tremendous recoil that
would result; but each advises that the additional weight
should be gained by using the barrels double. Thus more
than a double advantage would be secured, for not only
would there be two barrels at command, but the discharge
from each barrel would be more effective. The charge
TING. 217
of shot for a punt-gun averages from ten to twenty oun- Shooting,
ces; the shot is much larger than any used for shooting
game.
The Colonel, and we apprehend he is the only practical
writer on this department of the subject, describes the va¬
rious kinds of punts (which are flat-bottomed boats or ca¬
noes, so constructed as to be manageable either on sands, or
in mud, or water,) used in several different counties, and
gives the following directions for shooting wild-fowl, from
a punt, with a large shoulder-gun. “ Sit down on some
straw or rushes, with your gun by your side, and take with
you a small Newfoundland dog. Row about, till you can
see or hear a flock of wild-fowl on the mud. To find them
sitting, it by night, look at first very low, so as to bring the
surface of the mud in contrast with the horizon, by which
means you will overlook the black edges of the creeks and
holes, instead of seeing, and perhaps mistaking them for
birds.
“ When you have rowed within two or three gun-shots
of the fowl, take in your oars, and reconnoitre the creeks.
Having ascertained which is likely to be the best, lie down,
and push along with the setting pole or gunning spread,
and while the mud banks stand above the little channels,
you are so completely hid, that you will seldom fail to get
a shot, provided there is a creek within reach of the birds,
and you do not go directly to windward of them.
“ On arriving sufficiently near, should the water be so
low that you cannot present your gun at the birds without
kneeling or standing up, you must get aground at the side
of the creek, or steady your canoe by means of forcing
each oar from between the thowls into the mud, otherwise
the recoil of the gun will set her rocking, and thus you
might probably be tipped out. Having made all fast, rise
up and fire. Take care, however, to rise high enough
to be well clear of the mud, or not a feather will you
touch; and present as follows: By day, or moonlight, if
the birds are close, directly at them; or if beyond forty
yards, shoot at their heads; unless they are feeding in a
concave place, where the tide has left a kind of plash, in
which case you must level rather under them, or you will
only graze their back feathers. In star-light* take your aim
just at the top of the narrow black line, in which birds al¬
ways appear to one who is low down; and when so dark
that you cannot see your gun, present, as you think, about
a foot over, or you will most likely shoot above a foot un¬
der them.
“ Should you have been successful, you will, if at night,
generally hear your cripples (wounded fowl) beating on the
mud, before you can sufficiently recover your eyes, from
being dazzled by the fire, to see them. Your man then
puts on his mud-boards, (which are flat square pieces of
wood fastened to the feet, to enable the party to walk or
wade through mud), taking the setting pole to support him,
and assist the dog in collecting the killed and wounded;
taking care to secure first the outside birds, lest they should
escape to a creek. During this time you are left in charge
of the punt; and should, if possible, keep a look out, in or¬
der to see if any more birds fall dead or wounded from the
company', before they have flown out of sight.
“ The gunner generally calculates on bringing home the
half only of what he shoots, from the difficulty of catching
the whole of his winged birds, which he calk cripples, and
those that (to use the pigeon phrase) fall out of bounds,
which he calls droppers. If the birds fly up, he generally
declines firing, knowing that the moment they are on the
wing, they become so much more spread, that he could
seldom get more than three or four, for which it would be
hardly worth while to disturb the mud; particularly as
2 E
VOL. xx.
1 Instructions to Young Sportsmen. Eighth edition. London, 1838.
218
SHOOTING.
Shooting, widgeon, by night, if not fired at, will, in cold weather, pro- The Water-hen, fyc—There are various kinds of wild- Shooting,
babhy settle again at no great distance. fowl, which will dive rather than fly away when disturbed.
In following wild-fowl, it is easier to get within twenty They are, for the most part, clumsy birds on the wing, and
yards of them by going to leeward, than a hundred and fifty are killed without difficulty when they can be made to rise,
if directly to windward, so very acute is their sense of When shot at swimming, the shooter takes aim, and fires
smelling. instantaneously, or they will be under water whilst he is
“ The best time, therefore, to have sport with a canoe drawing the trigger,
and a shoulder-gun, (provided it be low water, or half ebb, Sporting Dogs. Before noticing the different kinds Dogs,
while you are hid in the creeks), is in clear, frosty, moon- of game which are the object of the shooter’s pursuit, a
light nights, when the wind happens to blow tovrards you few observations on sporting dogs may not be irrelevant,
as you face the moon. It is then impossible for the wild- The shooter’s dogs are of four kinds ; the pointer, setter,
spaniel, and retriever.
Pointers and Setters. If dogs were unknown in Europe, Pointers
and some traveller from a distant part of the southern he-an<*setters
misphere were to relate that he had seen a new species of
quadruped with wonderfully fine olfactory nerves, by the
fowl to smell you; and you may, by getting them directly
under the light, have the most accurate outline of every
bird, and even distinctly see them walking about, at a much
greater distance than a gun would do execution. From
thus being on the shining mud-banks, they appear quite
black, except some of the old cock widgeons, on the wings of aid of which it was enabled to hunt to death the hare, stag,
which the white is often plainly to be seen. " ‘ 1 1 -1--"-1 u —j:i_. i 
“ It does not follow, however, that nothing can be done
without a bright moon. So far from it, that some of the
best shoulder-gunners in the kingdom prefer but very little
moon, even for the mud. Here, by constant habit, they
can easily distinguish the black phalanxes of widgeons from
the shades on the places they frequent, and particularly if
they are feeding among the puddles which have been left
by the tide. In this pursuit, and when not favoured by the
best of light, there are a few cautions to be given to an in¬
experienced shooter. First, to ascertain that the black
fox, or jackal, the tale would readily be credited; for the
instinct of the hound, as compared with that of other ani¬
mals, is not such as to excite surprise. But were the tra¬
veller to relate that he had seen a quadruped which, un¬
taught, would stand motionless, as if converted into a sta¬
tue, on coming in contact with the slightest scent of game,
he would not be believed; it would appear incredible,
such is the extraordinary instinct of the pointer and setter.
We use the term extraordinary advisedly. There are other
animals, and indeed other dogs, which possess a degree of
instinct more nearly approaching to reason, but none pos-
gous to that of any other living creature that we are aware
of. The pointer seems to be endued with it for the artifi¬
cial service of man ; whereas the instincts of all other ani¬
mals are conducive to the supply of their individual wants,
and their usefulness to man is secondary thereto. It would
be difficult to controvert the argument that this instinct was
given to the pointer for the purpose of aiding men to cap¬
ture or kill game, by means of such engines as nets or guns.
This, we are aware, may be a doubtful position to maintain ;
but who can say for what other apparent purpose this pe¬
culiar faculty was given ? It may, indeed, be urged, that
the propensity to point, in the pointer, is a means ordained
by providence for his subsistence in a wild state, by ena¬
bling him to approach within reach of his prey, and thus
to accomplish, by another species of stealth, what the tiger
patch to be seen is a flock of birds, which he will do, by sessing so extraordinary an instinct, an instinct not analo
observing the occasional change of feature in the outside  ~c 1:—‘ —  
of it. Secondly, on approaching them, to be careful that
their enormous masses and tremendous noise do not de¬
ceive him in the distance, and tempt him to fire out of shot.
And, thirdly, not to be too eager in getting his dead birds,
as it sometimes happens, in hard weather, that the remain¬
der of the flock will again pitch down among them, parti¬
cularly if he has winged some of the younger birds, which
have not the cunning to make off for a creek, like the old
ones. In this case, a reserved gun would, probably, more
than double the produce of his first shot. It should be un¬
derstood, that this night shooting is chiefly at the widgeon,
as the geese, of late years, (since there have been so many
shooters), have seldom ventured much in harbour by night,
except sometimes at high spring tides, with a full moon;
and the greater part of the ducks, teal, dunbirds, and such and other animals of the cat tribe effect by ambuscade,
like, repair inland to the ponds and fresh springs, unless Such an argument, however, is presumptively rebutted by
driven to the salt feeding ground by severe frost. the fact, that all existing races of wild dogs are gregarious,
“ A company of widgeons, when first collecting, may be and resort to the chase for food; nor is there any record of
heard at an immense distance, by the whistling of the cocks the existence of dogs in a state of nature, except those cal¬
ami purring noise of the hens; but when they are quietly culated for the chase. It is therefore gratuitous to assert,
settled, and busy at feed, you sometimes can only hear the that the instinct or faculty of pointing was bestowed upon
motion of their bills, which is similar to that of tame the pointer as a means of subsistence, since he has ever been
ducks.” dependant on man for food.
Geese, ducks, widgeons, hoopers, curlews, and other wild- It is strongly argued, that all dogs have descended from
fowl, are killed in this manner; but the most destructive one common stock, and that by difference in food, climate,
method of killing them is with the heavy stanchion or swivel and training, they have become what they are at present;
punt-gun, used by the persons on the coast who make a nor is it more improbable that such is the fact, than that
trade of wild-fowl shooting. When a fair shot can be ob- the human race are descended from one common parent;
tained by this method, from twenty to fifty birds may be for dogs are not more dissimilar than the various tribes of
killed at one discharge ; but it is laborious, wearisome work, men, who differ not only in outward form, but morally and
and, except for a single occasion, can scarcely be called intellectually, as much as dogs vary in size, shape, tem-
spoit. This kind of shooting is carried on in the night, per, and sagacity. Those animals which can be domes-
usually in frosty weather, at which time sailing about on itcated improve by acquaintance with man, as the wild
water, or working the canoe through mud, cannot be ac- fruits by cultivation. All wild dogs have some qualities in
companied with very agreeable sensations. common ; but their instincts are somewhat limited, or not
The size of shot for punt-shooting should, in some mea- called forth. It is only in its domesticated state that we
sure, be regulated by the size of the birds expected to be find the various qualities which render the dog so useful a
met with, and their degree of tameness; yet it is well to be servant to man. Wild dogs are, in comparison with do-
prepared with shot of sufficient size, as hoopers, geese, and mesticated dogs, wffiat savages (for wherever they have been
other large birds, are sometimes found when least ex- found, savages bear some resemblance to each other, and
pected. are engaged in similar pursuits) are to civilized society. It
SHOOTING.
Shooting, is inconceivable that the mastiff, terrier, cur, and number-
—-v—^ less other dogs besides the pointer, could ever have been
in a wild state, as they do not seem to be possessed of any
instincts or faculties that could enable them to subsist un¬
attached to the human race.
The long received opinion that the lion, as the king of
brutes, is possessed of the highest degree of physical cou¬
rage, is exploded. The palm of courage is now awarded to
the dog. Courage, however, in the common acceptation of
the term, is not a characteristic trait of the pointer or set¬
ter, which are, perhaps, except the cur, the least courageous
of the canine race. The dog is the only brute animal that
prefers the society of man to that of its own species; and no
dog is more affectionate or faithful to man than the pointer
or the setter.
England is not less famous for its horses than for its sport¬
ing dogs. Our grey-hounds, fox-hounds, and harriers are
unequalled, and that they are so results from the care that
has been taken to keep each species distinct. All our
pointers are, in some degree, of Spanish extraction; and
such of them as have most Spanish blood in their veins are
unquestionably the best. The Spanish pointer is about
twenty-one inches in height. He has a large head, is heavily
made, broad-chested, stout-limbed, with a large dew-lap;
his eyes are full, and widely apart, and his nose is broad;
his tail is straight, short, and thick, and his ears large, pen¬
dulous, and fine; he should have a round, and not a flat
foot. When pointing, he stands on three legs, one of the
fore legs being raised, and his face and tail are in a line
with his back. This is his invariable position when he comes
gradually upon the scent; but whenever, by running with
the wind, or from any other circumstance, he comes sud¬
denly upon game, he will stand in the most picturesque and
sometimes indeed grotesque attitude, frequently with his
body almost doubled. A pointer may be sometimes seen
standing with all four feet collected together on the surface
of a small stone on a wall when the birds are almost under
him. A very old dog of this description, when fatigued
with ranging and too enfeebled to maintain his point long
in the natural position, will sit down on his haunches with
his face towards the game, yet ever and anon turning his
head wistfully to see whether the gun be approaching.
Notwithstanding however the vaunted excellence of British
pointers, the generality of them are not such as they ought
to be. It is much to be lamented that the same care is not
taken in the breeding of pointers and setters as of hounds.
Scarcely two pointers are to be seen so much alike that a
naturalist would pronounce them to belong to the same
class of dogs, inasmuch as they are dissimilar in size, weight,
and appearance. There are, properly speaking, but two
classes, the Spaniard and the mongrel. Nearly all the
pointers we see are, in fact, mongrels, although each may
have more or less of the original Spanish blood. Such,
however, is the force of nature that a dog having in him
very little of the blood of the pointer may prove a very ser¬
viceable dog to the shooter. We frequently meet with very
good dogs, dogs deemed by their owners first-rate, which
bear little resemblance, in point of shape and appearance,
to the true pointer. Some have the sharp nose of the fox,
others the snubbed nose of the bull-dog ; some are slend¬
erly formed ; some long-legged, others short-legged ; some
heavy-bodied, others light; in short, there is every possible
diversity.
The attempt to lay down a written rule whereby to dis¬
tinguish between a good and an indifferent pointer would
be futile. How much of the blood of the pointer a dog
has in him will be read in his countenance, rather than in¬
ferred from his general shape and appearance. There is
an indescribable something in the countenance of athorough-
bred or nearly thorough-bred pointer, which a little habit
of observation will enable the sportsman to detect with to-
219
lerable accuracy, so that he may judge of the capabilities Shooting,
of a dog, as a physiognomist will read at a glance a per-
son’s disposition and ability in his countenance. It is to
the disciplined eye only that these all but infallible tokens
are discernible.
The instinct of pointing, we apprehend, is an inextin¬
guishable and indestructible principle in the blood of the
pointer, which, however it may be mingled with inferior
blood, will always, in some degree, manifest itself; and on
this ground we build our theory that the further any dog is
removed from the original Spanish pointer the worse the dog
is; and, consequently, that all attempts to cross the pointer with
any other blood must necessarily deteriorate the breed.
The grey-hound is seldom or never crossed to give him ad¬
ditional fleetness, nor the hound to improve his nose; why
then should the pointer be crossed with dogs which, in so
far as the sports of the field are concerned, scarcely inherit
one quality in common with him ? Attempts, however, are
constantly made to improve the pointer by a cross with the
blood-hound, fox-hound, Newfoundland dog, or mastiff,
sometimes with a view of improving his appearance, and
bringing him to some fancied standard of perfection; but
in reality inducing a deformity. One of these imaginary
standards of perfection is, that to one part thorough Span¬
ish blood, the pointer should have in him an eighth of the
fox-hound, and a sixteenth of the blood-hound. A cross
will sometimes produce dogs which are, to some eyes, the
beau ideal of beauty; but however handsome such dogs
may be, they will necessarily possess some quality not be¬
longing to the pointer ; for instance, a cross with the hound
gives the propensity to trace hares, if not to give tongue. A
thorough-bred pointer carries his head well up when rang¬
ing; he will not give tongue, nor has he much desire to chase
footed game. The hound pointer may be sometimes de¬
tected by his coarse ears, by his tail being curled upwards,
and being carried high, or by his rough coat. An occasional
cross with the mastiff or Newfoundland dog is said to in¬
crease the fineness of nose, but it is converting the pointer
into a mere retriever. The pointer, as we before observed,
is naturally cowardly, as compared with other dogs; there¬
fore, whenever a pointer is ferocious or courageous, it may
be inferred that the blood of some of the larger or stronger
dogs runs in his veins. Another and the main source of
the unsightliness of sporting dogs is the allowing an indis¬
criminate intercourse between pointers and setters. Good
dogs may be thus obtained sometimes, but they are invari¬
ably misshapen; they have generally the head and brush
tail of the setter, with the body of the pointer, and their
coats are not sleek, and instead of standing at their point,
they will crouch. When the sire is nearly thorough-bred,
dogs of a superior description, but certainly not the best
dogs, are sometimes produced by the Newfoundland or
some other bitch not strictly a pointer. We are not will¬
ing to allow that the pointer is improved in any quality that
renders him valuable to the sportsman, by a cross with the
hound or any other sort of dog ; though we cannot deny
that the setter is materially improved in appearance by a
cross with the Newfoundland dog, but what it gains in ap¬
pearance, it loses in other respects.
Breeding mongrels, especially crossing with hounds, has
given the gamekeepers and dog-breakers an infinity of
trouble which might have been avoided by keeping the
blood pure. The best pointer is the offspring of a pointer-
bitch by a pointer-dog ; such a dog is nearly broken by na¬
ture. The Spanish pointer seldom requires the whip ; the
hound pointer has never enough of it. One of the main
sources of the sportsman’s pleasure is to see the dogs point
well. A deal is said about this and that dog being remark¬
ably fine-looking; the only time to appreciate the beauty
of a dog is when he is ranging and pointing ; then let the
sportsman compare the real pointer with the spurious one.
220
SHOOTING.
Shooting. Courage1 is another attribute of the pointer; a high-cou-
raged pointer will continue ranging till he has not, as the
saying is, a leg to stand upon, even though he should not
meet with game.
The usual price paid for breaking a dog is from two to five
guineas. The breaker runs the dogs in spring, and again
in August, but without the gun; this, followed by a week’s
shooting in September, renders their education complete,
but unless they have sufficient practice afterwards, the ini¬
tiatory lessons will soon be forgotten. Young dogs will
learn more in six successive days, than in six weeks, if taken
out only at the rate of one day per week. The dog-breaker
should be a person of discriminating judgment, and pos¬
sessed of a good temper ; and the art of winning, not by brute
force, but by judicious management, an ascendancy over the
dogs entrusted to his care. Breaking dogs, when many
young ones are taken out together, is a very difficult and
tiresome task. One or more old staunch dogs are usually
allowed to accompany the young ones, to induce them to
back. A dog pointing is conscious of the presence of
game. A dog which backs another is not aware of the
proximity of game at the time, otherwise than by inference.
Whenever the dog in advance points, it is the breaker’s
duty to make all the rest that acknowledge the scent to
point, and all that do not acknowledge the scent should be
shown the dog pointing, and be made to back, which is done
by the breaker holding up his hand, and crying, in an under¬
tone, “ to-ho.” The dogs are taught to fall the moment
the game rises, or on the report of a gun. They should
come in on hearing their names or the whistle, and should
never be allowed to pass a fence before their master. The
efficiency of the training which a dog has received may be
conjectured from his manner of quartering his ground. He
should range at a short distance in advance of the shooter,
alternately to the right and left; and this should be taught
rather by the motion of the hand, or by the person turning
at the same time, than by the voice. An offence should
never be overlooked if the dog seems conscious of it;
but the breaker’s knowledge of the disposition of the dog
should be his guide in regulating the punishment. Some
dogs will not bear the whip, or even rating, but require
encouragement and good words on all occasions. When it
is necessary to flog a headstrong dog, it should be done
severely, the blows falling on the side, from the shoulder
to the flank. The lash or switch with which the dog is
punished, should not be made to lap round the body, nor
should the dog be kicked. When the dog is in fault, and
is very eager in pursuing the sport, no punishment that will
be longer remembered can be administered than making
him crouch five or ten minutes. In common with other
sports, shooting has a vocabulary of its own. We have
elsewhere given a list of some of the words made use of by
the breakers and sportsmen to the dogs, which we tran¬
scribe, many of them being anything but euphonious to the
unaccustomed ear. “ Zb-/<o spoken in an under-tone, when
the dog catches the first notice of the scent of game, is a
warning to him that he is close upon game, and is a direc¬
tion to him to stand. There is no necessity for using it to
a dog that knows his business. Spoken in a peremptory
manner, it is used to make the dog crouch when he has
flushed game, or been otherwise in fault. Down-charge,
or down-to-charge, is used to make the dog, whether it be
near or at a distance, to crouch when the shooter charges,
that the dog may not flush game when the shooter is un¬
prepared. When the dog will not crouch, but continues
beating, the leg-strap may be put on. Take-heed, and be-
careful, are used when the dog ranges over ground where
it is customary to find birds. Take-heed, is a word of cor¬
rection : be-careful, of encouragement. The former is used Shooting,
by way of caution or notice to prevent the dog flushing birds
by running over the ground too fast; the latter is likewise
a caution, but used when the dog beats slowly or carelessly.
'Ware fence is used to prevent dogs passing a fence before
the gun. The dog should never, on any account, leave an
enclosure until its master has left it. 'Ware, or beware,
is used to rate a dog for giving chase to a hare, birds, or
cattle. Seek, is a direction to the dog to look for a dead
or wounded bird, hare, or rabbit. Dead is used to make a
dog relinquish his hold of dead or wounded game. The
retriever drops it. The dog should retain possession of
wounded game until it is taken from him ; for should he
suffer a bird that is only slightly wounded to disengage it¬
self from his grasp, another seek becomes necessary, and the
bird is either lost, or despoiled of its plumage by the catch¬
ing and recatching. Some dogs are taught to bring the game
to their master. The breaker should teach the dog, in all
cases, to retain game until it is taken from him, or until he
hear the word dead, when he should instantly drop it. The
dog should be punished if he break the skin with his teeth.”*
The most useful dogs are those which are best broken.
As much depends on the breaking as the breed of a dog.
Dogs should be constantly shot over during the season by
a successful shot, and exercised during the shooting recess
by some person who understands well the management of
them, otherwise they will fall off in value. The half-bred
ones will become unmanageable, and even the thorough¬
bred ones will acquire disorderly habits.
We look upon the setter to be an inferior kind of pointer,
perhaps originally a cross between the pointer and the
spaniel, or some such dog as the Newfoundland, for it has
some qualities in common with each. The pointer has the
finer nose, and is more staunch than the setter. Pointers
are averse to w^ater; setters delight in it; hence the advan¬
tage of the latter on marshes to the snipe shooter. No
pointer should be made to hunt alone; that is the duty of
a retriever. The setter will face briars and gorse bushes
better than the pointer, which is in this respect a tender
dog; and for this reason the setter is preferred to the
pointer for cover shooting. Besides, his being not so
staunch as the pointer, is an additional advantage in heavy
covers. The sportsman who shoots over well-broken
pointers, frequently passes game in the woods, while the
pointers, which are not seen by him, are at their point;
the setter, being more impatient to run in, affords the
shooter many shots in cover, which the over-staunch
pointer would not. The pointer is always to be preferred
on open grounds. In hot weather the pointer will endure
more fatigue than the setter.
The Spaniel or Cock Dog. The spaniel is the best dog The Spa-
for beating covers, provided he can be kept near the gun. niel.
He is generally expected to give tongue when game is
flushed; some spaniels will give notice of game before it
springs, which may be very well where wood-cocks only are
expected to be found. Wood-cock and pheasant shooting
are usually combined; where covers are limited, pheasant
shooting cannot be conducted too quietly. Wherever the
underwood is so thick that the shooter cannot keep his eye
on the dogs, spaniels are to be preferred to pointers or set¬
ters, whatever species of game the shooter may be in pur¬
suit of. If spaniels cannot be kept near the shooter, they
are the worst dogs he can employ.
Retrievers. The business of the retriever is to find lost Retrievers
birds. Newfoundland dogs are the best for this purpose.
They should have a remarkably fine sense of smelling, or
they will be of little use in tracing a wounded pheasant,
or other game, through a thick cover, where many birds
1 Courage, as applied to the pointer, signifies a willingness and determination to range; it is an union of the qualities known by the
terms mettle and bottom, as applied to horses. 2 The Oakleigh Shooting Code, hondon, Ridgways, Third edition.
SHOOT
Shooting, have been running about. A good retriever will follow the
bird on whose track he is first put, as a blood-hound will
that of a human being or deer. They should be taught to
hunt and retrieve, or in many instances tlieir finding a
wounded bird would be of no advantage to the shooter.
We proceed next to give some description of the art of
shooting game, in the course of which we shall endeavour
to confine our obseravtions to such of the habits and peculia¬
rities of the birds and quadrupeds under notice, as it is es¬
sential the shooter should be made acquainted with, and at
the same time to detail the means of proceeding most likely
to ensure success in the pursuit of them.
The The Partridge. We commence with the partridge, as
Partridge. gh00tmg that bird is generally the young shooter’s first lesson
at game, although in the order of the season grouse shooting
takes precedence. Partridge shooting commences on the
first of September, and ends on the first of February.
The habits of the partridge at different seasons should
be closely understood and studied by the shooter, that he
may be able, with a tolerable degree of certainty, to find
them at any given time. In the early part of the season,
they will be found, just before sunrise, running to a brook,
a spring, or marsh, to drink ; from which place they almost
immediately fly to some field where they can find abund¬
ance of insects, or else to the nearest corn-field or stubble-
field, where they will remain, according to the state of the
weather, or other circumstances, until nine or ten o’clock,
when they go to bask. The basking place is commonly on
a sandy bank-side facing the sun, where the whole covey
sits huddled together for several hours. About four or five
o’clock, they return to the stubbles to feed, and about six
or seven they go to their jucking-place, a place of rest for
the night, which is mostly in aftermath, or in a rough pas¬
ture field, where they remain huddled together until morn¬
ing. Such are their habits during the early part of the
season ; but their times of feeding and basking varies much
with the length of the days. While the corn is standing,
unless the weather be very fine or very wet, partridges will
often remain in it all day ; when fine, they bask on the out¬
skirts ; when wet, they run to some bare place in a shelter¬
ed situation, where they will be found crowded together as
if basking, for they seldom remain long in corn or grass
when it is wet. Birds lie best on a hot day. They are
wildest on a damp or boisterous day.
The usual way of proceeding in search of partridges in
September is, to try the stubbles first, and next the potato
and turnip field. Birds frequently bask amongst potatoes
or turnips, especially when those fields are contiguous to
a stubble-field. The best partridge shooting is obtained in
potato and turnip fields. It not unfrequently happens that
potatoes or turnips are grown on a headland in a corn field;
in that case the headland will be a favourite resort of birds.
After the middle of October it is ever uncertain where
birds will be found; the stubbles having been pretty well
gleaned, birds do not remain in them so long as in the early
part of the season. When disturbed at this time they will
sometimes take shelter in woods, when they are flushed one
by one. The best shots that can be obtained at partridges
in winter, are when the birds are driven into woods.
When a covey separates, the shooter will generally be
able to kill many birds, but late in the season it is seldom
that the covey can be broken. In November and Decem¬
ber the shooter must not expect to have his birds pointed,
but must remain content with firing at long distances. We
transcribe the following observations on dispersing coveys:
“ In the early part of the season, when the shooter breaks
a covey, he should proceed without loss of time in search
of the dispersed birds, for the parent birds begin to call
almost immediately on their alighting, the young ones an-
I N G. 221
swer, and in less than half an hour, if not prevented by the Shooting,
presence of the shooter and his dogs, the whole covey will^^-v^'
be re-assembled, probably in security in some snug corner,
where the shooter least thinks of looking for them. As the
season advances birds are longer in re-assembling after
being dispersed. It is necessary to beat very closely for
dispersed birds, as they do not stir for some time after
alighting, on which account dogs cannot wind them until
nearly upon them, especially as they resort to the roughest
places when dispersed. Birds dispersed afford the primest
sport. The pointing is often beautiful, the bird being
generally in a patch of rushes, or tuft of grass or fern, and
close to the dog. When a bird has been running about
some time, dogs easily come upon the scent of it; but
when it has not stirred since alighting, and has perhaps
crept into a drain, or run into a hedge-bottom, or the sedgy
side of a ditch, no dog can wind it until close upon it, and
the very best dogs will sometimes flush a single bird. In
the month of October, and afterwards, the shooter will find
it difficult to approach within gun-shot of a covey, nor can
he disperse them, except by firing at them when he chances
to come close upon them. Should he then be so fortunate
as to disperse a covey, he may follow them leisurly, for
they will then lie several hours in their lurking place, which
is chosen with much tact, as a patch of rushes, a gorse
bush, a holly bush, the bottom of a double bank fence, or
a coppice or wood. The length of time that will transpire
before a dispersed covey will re-assemble, depends, too, on
the time of the day, and state of the weather. In hot
weather, they will lie still for several hours. A covey dis¬
persed early in the morning, or late at night, will soon re¬
assemble. A covey dispersed between the hours of ten
and two, will be some time in re-assembling. A covey
found in the morning in a stubble field, and dispersed, will
next assemble near the basking place. A covey dispersed
after two o’clock, will next assemble in the stubble field at
feeding time. A covey disturbed and dispersed late in the
afternoon, or evening, will next re-assemble near the jucking-
place. A covey being disturbed on or near to their jucking-
place, will seek a fresh one, perhaps about two fields dis¬
tant; and if often disturbed at night on their jucking-place,
they will seek another stubble field to feed in, and change
their quarters altogether. The most certain method of
driving partridges from a farm, is to disturb them night
after night at their jucking-place, which is usually in a mea¬
dow, adjoining to a corn field, where the aftermath is suf¬
fered to grow, or in a field rough with rushes, fern, thistles,
or heather. When a covey is dispersed on a dry hot day,
it is necessary to search much longer, and beat closer, for
the dispersed birds, than when the day is cool, and the
ground moist. A dog should be only slightly rated for
flushing a bird on a hot day.”1
The number of birds in a covey varies much, perhaps
the average may be from ten to fifteen. In some years,
when the coveys are large after a fine hatching season, it
is not uncommon to see upwards of twenty birds in a co¬
vey ; and sometimes after a wet season, ten birds may be
deemed a fair covey. Birds are always most numerous
after a dry summer. When there are thunder-storms about
midsummer, great numbers of young birds are drowned.
The young birds have many enemies besides the elements,
such as cats, young dogs, hawks, foxes, and vermin of dif¬
ferent descriptions. When the eggs are taken, or the
young birds destroyed soon after leaving the shell, there
will be a second hatch. Sportsmen often meet with second
hatches in September, when the old birds rise screaming,
and generally alight within fifty yards, as if to decoy the dog or
sportsman from the brood. In that case the fair sportsman
will not fire at the old birds, but will call in his dogs and leave
‘The Oakleigh Shooting Code.
222 SHOO
Shooting, the ground. At such times he should look well after the
young dogs, as, when they see the birds running, they are
apt to snap up such of them as cannot get out of the way.
The very young birds are called cheepers, from their ut¬
tering a scream as they rise. Full grown birds never scream
as they rise, except when the young ones are helpless, nor
do young birds after they are large enough for the table.
The cock partridge is distinguished from the hen by the
brown feathers which form a crescent, or horse-shoe, as it
is sometimes called, on the breast.
The pointer is decidedly the best dog for partridge
shooting. Markers and retrievers will be of much service
to the shooter whose object is to kill a great quantity of
birds, rather than to enjoy the sport.
The The Pheasant. The pheasant is the most splendidly
Pheasant. arrayed of undomesticated British birds. It is deservedly
in high request amongst sportsmen, and it claims the first
attention of the game-preserver. The numberless plan¬
tations and coppices which are everywhere springing up,
afford yearly additional shelter. The pheasant prefers
woods of oak and beech, that it may feed on the acorns
and mast. The fine old woods consisting of these trees
may perhaps be diminishing, but they are more than re¬
placed by plantations of larch or other quick-growing
trees. Pheasants generally choose the larch or spruce-
fir to roost in, and plantations of this description, if near
corn, turnip, or potato fields, afford sufficient cover for
them. They are, in many counties, allowed to become
so numerous, as to do serious mischief to the labours of
husbandry.
During August and the early part of September, phea¬
sants will remain nearly all day in potato and corn fields.
Pheasant shooting commences on the first of October, and
ends on the first of February. In October, the shooter
usually meets with them in potato and turnip fields, deep
stubbles and rushy fields near covers, but especially under
hedges, holly trees, or in coppices near to covers. In such
situations they will suffer the shooter to approach very near
to them; they are generally pointed by the dogs, and, a
large majority of them being young birds, are easily killed;
but in that month the trees are so full of foliage, and the
briars and brushwood are so annoying, that it is seldom
possible to beat the woods with any degree of pleasure, for
not only are they almost impervious, but the pheasants are
seldom seen when they rise, or if seen and shot, are very
frequently lost, or not found without considerable loss of
time. It is in November, when the birds have moulted,
and when the leaves have fallen, and the brambles are de¬
caying, and the paths in the woods are beginning to be
worn, that pheasant shooting is in perfection. The birds
are then full grown, and also better fed than later in the
season.
It is not usual to kill the hens wherever pheasants are
strictly preserved; but it is necessary to kill the cocks where
they are too numerous. Pheasants do not pair, and as it
is better that there should be but few cocks, the shooter s
being able to single them out and kill them, tends ulti¬
mately to the increase, and not to the diminution of the
number of birds in cover. At the commencement of the
season the shooter will frequently flush a nide of pheasants,
but in the after part of the season he will oftener find soli¬
tary birds. Pheasants will occasionally wander a consider¬
able distance from the wood to which they belong, especi¬
ally during winter, in search of food, and in wet and foggy
weather. The pheasant basks at the root of a tree, or un¬
der a hedge, in the same manner as the partridge, but each
bird nestles itself separately. Pheasants approach nearer
to domesticated poultry than any other kind of game. Phea¬
sant shooting is most destructive where the plantations are
not more than forty yards wide; when the shooters remain
on the outside, while the beaters and dogs rouse the game
TING.
within. The pheasant shooter does not expect set shots; Shooting,
his object is to cause the birds to rise as near to him as he' v ”
can. Having no notice of them, he should ever be on the
alert for snap shots.
A short double-barrelled fowling-piece, of wide bore, is
preferable to a long one. The shot should be large, and
it is well to use plenty of it. A close-shooting gun is not
to be recommended to the pheasant shooter. The birds
should rarely be fired at in cover when more than thirty
yards from the gun, or they will escape wounded in the
underwood. They are generally brought down within
twenty yards from the gun. Pheasants are most plentiful
in Norfolk, Suffolk, and some of the adjoining counties.
There are some in every county in England, and in most
of the counties in Scotland. A perfect bird has a white
annular space on the neck, but this mark is often wanting.
The pheasant makes a considerable noise when rising,
sufficiently so to unnerve the young and over-anxious
shooter. The bird should be allowed to rise clear of the
bushes, and to its full height, before the shooter fires at it,
or it is probable he will fire too low; and again, the short
fan-like feathers on either side of the tail appear, as the
bird is rising, to be part of the bird, making the body seem
longer and larger than it really is; and this circumstance,
together with the rapidity of the movement of the bird
when rising, is the cause of the shooter firing too low. The
aim should always be at the head, unless the bird is cross¬
ing, and then well forward. Firing too soon, lest the bird
should be out of reach, is a very common error, particu¬
larly with young sportsmen.
For reasons which we have before adverted to, the set¬
ter, or cock-dog, is to be preferred to the pointer for phea¬
sant shooting. Pheasants will sometimes lie very close,
so that it is with great difficulty they can be made to rise ;
therefore dogs that will dash into the thicket are most use¬
ful. Beaters and retrievers are indispensable to the phea¬
sant shooter.
The Hare. The shooter seldom beats purposely for hares. The Harr.
Birds are mainly the object of his pursuit. He chooses his
ground, and regulates the charge of his fowling-piece with
reference to the birds he expects to meet with. Hares are
started casually, as it were, while he is in quest of birds.
Leveret shooting often commences with grouse shooting,
on the 12th of August, though it is not uncommon, nor is
it considered unfair, to kill leverets during the summer
months. Hares are not in season until September. The
shooter should desist from killing them in February, but he
is not prevented from killing them at any season, by any
legislative enactment, if he have taken out a game certifi¬
cate. It is the prescriptive law of the chase, held sacred
by sportsmen, that prevents him.
In September, hares lie close, in hedges, in woods, or in
growing corn, and are somewhat difficult to be found.
They are always exceedingly restless in wild windy weather,
and they are then found, particularly after a storm, in
pasture and stubble fields. Dogs will frequently point
tnem. In November and December, they are often seen
on their seats, or forms, as they are sometimes called, by the
shooter keeping his eyes on the ground about eight or ten
SHOOTING.
Shooting, yards from him. It is usual, however, to allow the hare a
chance of escape, by starting her before firing at her ; it is
accounted unsportsmanlike to kill puss on her seat. In Jan¬
uary, hares are found on fallows, marshes, or in pastures, or
in or near to gardens.
The shooter should fire well forward at a hare, and not
too high. He should not fire at a long distance, as the pro¬
bability of his wounding her would be greater than that of
killing her. If running direct from him, a hare should not
be fired at, unless within twenty-five paces from the gun,
or she will often run off, though severely wounded in the
hind-quarters. A beater will render essential service to the
shooter in quest of hares, in the early part of the season; the
beater walks on the contrary side of the hedge to the shooter,
and a few yards in advance, so that the hare, to avoid the
former, jumps out on the side of the latter. When beating
hedges in the vicinity of covers, the shooter should take
care to place himself on that side nearest the covers. When
shooting at the edge of a cover, if the hare fired at is not
quite deprived of the use of her legs, it would be advisable
to fire again immediately, for should she crawl through the
hedge, the chances would be against her being retrieved.
The The Rabbit. Rabbits are alternately deemed game and
Rabbit, vermin. They are sometimes shot for sport, sometimes for
profit, and sometimes on account of the mischief they do to
trees and other vegetation. They sometimes seat them¬
selves all day long, after the manner of hares, but more fre¬
quently they remain the greater portion of the day in their
burrows. As they are shy of approach, and run under
ground on the least alarm, the shooter frequently finds it
expedient to hide himself at a little distance from the war¬
ren, and wait until they come out. Where rabbits are nu¬
merous, as in most warrens they are, some will be continu¬
ally playing within a few yards of the entrance of the bur¬
rows, and when found in such situations (for they are very
tenacious of life), they should be struck very hard, or they
will contrive to crawl, or rather roll into their earths, be¬
fore the shooter can pick them up. It is astonishing what
efforts they will make to escape, though three legs be bro¬
ken, when near to the entrance of a burrow. It is of little
use firing at them when they are more than twenty paces
distant from the gun. Rabbits afford more what are
termed snap-shots than any other game, as they are most¬
ly found in or near to plantations, or amongst brambles,
hollies, gorse or deep fern, in places of extreme difficulty.
It requires a quick eye and steady hand to stop a rabbit
running across furrows, or over uneven ground. Rabbits
for sale, or when destroyed as vermin, are oftener taken by
means of ferrets and nets, than killed by the gun. A short
gun, having a large bore, and charged heavily wdth powder,
and a small quantity of No. 4 shot, is best for rabbit shoot¬
ing. It would be well that a companion or servant should
lead a dog in a slip—a terrier is as good as any—to be loosed
the moment the gun is fired ; thus many a rabbit will be
secured, that would else have run into its hole. When
earthed, it frequently happens that a rabbit is not able to
crawl more than three or four feet deep from the surface,
where it dies, wdien it may be recovered by thrusting a
223
bramble down the hole, and twisting it so as to entangle Shooting,
the rabbit; but a more certain method, if the rabbit is not
too far down, is to screw the worm of the ramrod into its
body, and so drag it out, as a cartridge is drawn from the
Darrel of a gun The best time for rabbit shooting is in the
evening, or during sunshine just after a shower, when great
numbers of the rabbits venture from their burrows.
The Bustard. The bustard is a rare but valuable acqui- The
sition to the game-bag. As it cannot be approached unless Bustard,
the shooter takes advantage of some adventitious circum¬
stances, it is seldom an object of pursuit to the sportsman.
Bustard shooting commences on the first of September, and
ends on the first of March.
The Snipe. There are three kinds of snipes, viz. the soli- The Snipe
tary or double snipe, the full or whole snipe, and the jack or
half snipe. The last is considered to be scarcely worth pow¬
der and shot; it is the full snipe which principally engages
the shooter’s attention. We have before given directions for
shooting this bird. “ The common or full snipe is a shy
bird when in company, but when alone will allow the
shooter to approach within a dozen paces of it before it
springs. When it does spring, however, it moves with a
velocity that defies the epithet sloic ! It is best to shoot as
soon as possible. The shooter will bring down a snipe
with much less difficulty at from fifteen to twenty paces
than at any other distance. The aim is thus taken before
the bird begins to make its cross flights, and before it has
attained its full speed. The irregularity of its flight is of
little consequence during the first and second twirling, De-
fore the bird is safely on the wing, since its flight is then
comparatively tardy. But let the snipe fly ten yards from
whence it sprang,—let it be, for instance, twenty-five paces
distant from the gun, it is then at the top of its speed, and
in the very midst of its sidelong, elliptical gyrations, and
more than a match for the majority of shooters, especially
if the day be windy. A snipe killed at fifteen or twenty
paces distance, with No. 7 shot, the aim being true, will
be struck by twenty or thirty pellets, but the chances are
more than twenty to one against the aim being true. The
snipe, when struck, is generally three or four inches from
the centre of the cone which the shot forms as it flies, which
is very different from being in the exact centre. A section
of the body of a snipe does not present a surface as large
as that of a penny-piece. If any person will fire at a target
at fifteen yards distance, he will find that a snipe would not
be cut to pieces even at that distance, unless it chanced to
be precisely in the centre of the charge as thrown. WThen
speaking of a snipe presenting no larger a surface as a mark
than a penny-piece, we of course mean a snipe flying di¬
rectly from the shooter. It would be imprudent to shoot
at a snipe flying across at less than twenty-five paces dis¬
tance, as it then presents more than double the surface of
one going straight from the shooter. Thirty paces is the
distance we should prefer for a cross or oblique shot. At
thirty, or even at twenty-five yards, unless the barrel throws
shot remarkably close, there are interstices in-the charge as
thrown, in which a snipe would escape untouched. Pro¬
vided the flight of a snipe were equally steady at all dis¬
tances, and that in every instance the shooter could choose
224 SHOO
Shooting, his own distance, a snipe would have the least chance for
its life at twenty yards. But there are two points to be at¬
tended to in determining the proper distance—the flight of
the bird, and the manner in which the shot is thrown. In
snipe-shooting the latter is subservient to the former. The
few full snipes occasionally found on heathery and rush-clad
hills, as well as in the enclosed grounds, lie much more
dispersed than the gregarious birds of the marsh. Hence
those found on the uplands are easy, and those on the fens
difficult of approach. It is, however, the same description
of bird that is found in both situations.” When the shooter
uses wire cartridges, which, by the bye, are not precisely
calculated for snipe-shooting, it would be prudent to allow
the bird to move to a considerable distance before firing.
It is scarcely necessary to add, that the shot used for snipe¬
shooting should be very small. When several snipes rise
together, they are styled a wisp.
The The Woodcock. There is a proverb current among sports-
Woodcock. men, that to kill a woodcock is to perform a day’s work,
which doubtlessly originated in the circumstance of a wood¬
cock being seldom found until a very large extent of wood
has been closely beaten by both men and dogs. In the
month of November, however, when woodcocks are most
abundant, it would not be a difficult task, according to that
standard of labour, to do the work of a week in a day, in any
noted cover, for every cover frequented by woodcocks, (or
cocks as they are called in the sportsman’s nomenclature),
acquires a notoriety which it seldom loses, since any wood
well frequented with cocks one year, has generally a fair
supply the next. But whether the same cocks that fre¬
quent a wood this year, return the next, with their off¬
spring, or whether an entirely new set of occupants take
possession, we leave the ornithologist to decide. A certain
description of woods are seldom known to fail of woodcocks
during the winter months; these woods or plantations are
such as are swampy, or have a stream of water running
through them, or woods abounding in springs, or where,
from the nature of the ground, or want of draining, the top
water encourages the growth of moss. The woodcock is
rarely found where moss is not abundant. During a frost,
cocks are found near fresh water springs ; at other times,
they are most commonly flushed in the open glades of the
densest woods, or rather in those parts of the woods not
choked up at the bottom with fern, rushes, or brambles,
but where they can freely run about, and in those parts
where willows, osiers, hazel-trees, or crate-wood is plentiful.
In such places it will readily be ascertained whether there
are cocks or not, by the borings in the moss or dead leaves,
and by the droppings. Should the cock not be brought
down, it will not fly far after being fired at; it should,
when practicable, be marked down, as by this means seve¬
ral successive shots may be obtained at it when the gun is
unsuccessful. It is seldom that the skilful shooter springs
a cock which he does not eventually kill. The difficulty of
woodcock shooting arises, for the most part, from the birds
springing in the thickest part of woods, and contriving to
wing their flight through the trees, in such a manner as to
baffle the sportsman’s aim. After being fired at in a wood,
T I N G.
cocks will frequently alight amongst hedge-rows on the Shooting,
outskirts, especially under a hedge running close to and
parallel with a water-course, when they are easily killed,
as they will not rise until the shooter is close upon them ;
and their flight is not difficult to master when there are no
trees to obstruct the aim. Woodcocks are found in Octo¬
ber on moors, and in covers near the sea. About the last
week in October they find their way to the inland covers,
where they remain during the early part of the winter,
and they are sometimes found there again in March. A
sharp frost, or a dense fog, at the end of October or begin¬
ning of November, is usually the shooter’s first intimation
of the arrival of cocks ; and if he is ambitious of the fame
of killing them, he must fag hard during the month of No¬
vember, or it is probable that his return for the season of
the numbers bagged will not be satisfactory. November
is unquestionably the best month for cock shooting.
The Red Grouse. Grouse shooting commences op the The Red
12th of August. We have already alluded to the vast ex- Grouse,
tent of the northern moors. The number of birds killed
on the opening day, on some parts, is very great. It is
not uncommon for an experienced and skilful shooter, on
the best moors, to bag fifty brace on the 12th of August.
What may be termed a good day’s sport, differs much on
different moors. On well-preserved moors, the average
may be from ten to twenty brace. On subscription moors,
the shooter should not be dissatisfied if he has the oppor¬
tunity of killing from three to five brace per day, during
the first week of the season, though this would be deemed
a low average for the Scottish moors. After the first week,
few sportsmen, except those residing in the immediate
neighbourhood of the hills, ever trouble the moor game.
Many causes contribute to the popularity of grouse shoot¬
ing, amongst which may be enumerated the following. It
commences during the parliamentary recess, and long vaca¬
tion—the legislator’s, lawyer’s, and collegian’s holiday ; and
it is no wonder that after being cooped up all summer,
these, or any other classes of society, should seek relaxa¬
tion in the tports of the field. August is the season when
every one, from the peer to the shopkeeper, who can afford
the indulgence, either rusticates or travels. In that month
the casual tourist, the laker, and the angler, are often in
the North, when the temptation to draw a trigger is irresist¬
ible. Grouse shooting fascinates the young shooter more
than any other kind of sport, inasmuch as the season com¬
mences with it. The opening day is looked forward to
with pleasing anticipation all summer. To the more prac¬
tised sportsman, grouse shooting recommends itself by rea¬
son of the superiority of the sport over every other kind of
shooting. Partridge shooting is a comparatively tame and
uninteresting amusement. Partridge shooting, as compar¬
ed with grouse shooting, may be termed domestic sporting.
To the majority of sportsmen, a grouse shooting excursion
only occurs once a year, and then lasts only a few days.
The sport therefore seldom palls; but during the long in¬
terval of time that elapses between each, the coming sea¬
son is ever looked forward to with additional interest.
Grouse shooting is, in many respects, a source of greater
expenditure to the sportsman: it requires more prepara¬
tion, and is attended with more difficulties than any other
kind of shooting ; but these circumstances, whatever some
people may imagine to the contrary, so far from detracting
from, serve to enhance the enjoyment of the sport; for we
are apt to estimate whatever is obtained with difficulty and
expense at a higher rate than what is gratuitously afforded
us. To the lover of the romantic and the picturesque,
grouse shooting has attractions of the highest order. It is
the sport of all others peculiarly British : the partridge, the
pheasant, the black-cock, are widely dispersed over other
countries; but the red grouse is only found in the British
Islands.
SHOO
Shooting. There are seldom more than a dozen grouse in a brood;
rarely indeed so many. Towards the end of autumn, the
broods congregate together, and are seldom seen afterwards
until pairing time in January or February, except in great
numbers. Broods thus associated are termed packs. When
it happens that the birds are well grown at the opening of
the season, and much fired at in August, they will pack be¬
fore September. When there is fine weather in August,
grouse, until the broods are packed, will suffer the shooter
to approach very near to them befoi’e they rise. In wet or
windy weather they are wild. Very few grouse are killed
by the sportsman after August; they are then scarcely ap¬
proachable. Grouse delight in tall young heather, when
there are plenty of bare places or pads or tracks. Hares
also, and cocks, and we may perhaps add, pheasants, in their
respective covers, delight in those parts where they can run
about freely. The brow of a hill is more likely ground
than either extreme heights or valleys, or flats. Solitary
birds lie better than broods. When birds are wild, the
shooter should follow an individual rather than a brood. It
is well understood by sportsmen, that the fewer birds there
are in a brood, nide, or covey, the better will they lie.
Grouse bask on the sunny hill-side, oftentimes under a rock,
or in a stone pit, during the middle of the day, at which
time the task of ranging for them is toilsome in the extreme.
Grouse shooters should be accompanied by a guide and mark-
kers. The former is indispensable to a person not intimately
acquainted with every turn and knoll, during the mist that
nine mornings out of ten envelopes the hills in August. It
is inconceivable how completely bewildered a person who
fancies he is acquainted with every inch of ground may be
when surrounded by the haze. Neither sun, moon, nor
stars are visible; nor is there a fence, road, or building to
direct him. A stone pit, or mountain rill, are often the only
objects that present themselves, except the interminable
heather. The distant hills that would else be his guides,
are shut out from his view, which does not extend beyond
the range of his fowling-piece. At such times it requires
no ordinary precaution to prevent losing young dogs, which
can scarcely be prevented running off when a gun is fired
in the distance. During the continuance of the mist,
which generally disappears about eight o’clock, markers
can be of but little use, except that they may be employed
in carrying a basket, extra guns and shot, or leading dogs,
of which it is well to have a change. No dog can range
two days successively for grouse. Pointers, for reasons we
have before given, are preferable to setters, or any other
kind of dogs, for grouse shooting. Grouse shooters should
separate and range singly; they should have no noisy at¬
tendants; nor any dogs that require rating. The sport
cannot be carried on too quietly. If the shooter throws off
before eight o’clock, which it is not prudent to do unless
there are many guns on the moors or foul weather is ex¬
pected in the afternoon, he should run only one dog as long
as the heather is wet, afterwards two, and in the afternoon
three dogs. In wet weather one dog is quite sufficient.
If hot weather, we advise rest from eleven to two. If the
shooter have not exhausted himself during the middle of
the day he xvill best fill his bag in the afternoon; he may
net, indeed, then find so many, but those he does find will
be dispersed birds that will almost lie to be trodden on.
An old shooter thus on a dry afternoon following a wet
morning will sometimes load himself or his attendant, after
the less experienced have left the moor disgusted, with
scarcely a bird in their possession. Shooters are generally
recommended to carry as heavy a gun as they can conveni¬
ently manage on the moors. It should be borne in mind
that the heaviest gun will do most execution; but none ex¬
cept those accustomed to such exercise, can carry a heavy
gun with comfort all day long, exposed to an autumnal
sun. We would therefore not recommend barrels more
VOL. xx.
TING. 225
than thirty inches long, nor of a larger guage than sixteen, Shooting,
on account of the excessive heat of the weather at this sea-
son. As the sportsman, in grouse shooting, has ever an
opportunity of choosing his own distance when birds rise
near to him, he will be more certain of killing if he let the
birds fly twenty-five yards from him before he fires the
first barrel, when, if he have both barrels cocked, he will
have ample time to throw in the reserve barrel while the
birds are within reasonable distance. In nothing is the su¬
periority of the detonating over the flint lock more apparent
than in its allowing the shooter to fire the second so soon
after the first barrel. We suspect that the habit of taking
the gun from the shoulder after the first barrel was fired,
originated in the necessity of waiting until the smoke from
the pan was blown away, which nuisance no longer exists.
A person who is a decidedly bad shot should not use the
cartridge in the first barrel, as the loose charge gives a
larger circle at a short distance, and consequently increases
the chance of killing.
The Blackcock. Black game shooting commences on the The
20th of August, and ends, with red grouse shooting, on the Blackcock.
10th of December. Black game frequent moors covered
with heather, but they are as often found in rushy fields, or
even in stubbles adjoining to moors. They are not met
with at any great altitude, but confine themselves chiefly to
the lower hills, or the base of the loftier mountains. They
are seldom found, except where there are plantations or
forests of fir trees. Black game do not frequent the cen¬
tral parts of large wastes so much as those parts bordering
on inclosed lands. Red grouse recede where civilization pro¬
gresses; and they are consequently in a fair way, at no very
distant period, of being banished from England. As a vast
extent of heath-land is not requisite for black game, there
is no room to fear their extinction for some centuries to
come. Although not so numerous as red grouse, they are
more widely scattered over England. Even in the south of
England there is cover congenial to them. Should both
black and red game become extinct in England, the hills
of Scotland will long afford shelter to each. With the ex¬
ception of the pheasant, black game is the only species of
game not yearly diminishing in number in Britain. A full-
grown blackcock weighs the same as a fine pheasant cock,
about three pounds and a half. The female, which is call¬
ed the grey-hen, and ought never to be fired at, is much
smaller. Black game shooting on moors resembles red grouse
shooting, and in the woods, pheasant shooting. The black
cock is a magnificent bird, and an old one is ever deemed
a valuable addition to the contents of the game bag. Black
game have increased very considerably in England during
the last few years, still they are much more abundant in
Scotland. Sweden is perhaps the country best suited to
them.
The Capercailzie. Similar to the blackcock, in many re- The Ca-
spects, is the capercailzie, or cock of the wood, once the percailzie.
native, and now the denizen of the Highland forests. The
2 F
226
SHOOTING.
Shooting, capercailzie cock weighs sixteen pounds. Speaking of this
bird, as it exists in Sweden, Mr. Lloyd says,1 “ The favour¬
ite haunts of the capercali are extensive fir woods; in coppices
or small cover he is seldom or never found. The principal
food of the capercali, when in a state of nature, consists of
the leaves of the Scotch fir; he very rarely, however, feeds
upon those of the spruces; he also eats juniper berries, cran¬
berries, blaeberries, and other berries common to the north¬
ern forests; and occasionally also, in the winter time, the
buds of the birch, &c. The young capercali feed principal¬
ly at first on ants, worms, insects, &c.” It was the felling
of the timber, aided, perhaps, by the cross-bow, which is
not ill-adapted to the purpose, that exterminated this pri¬
meval habitant of the old Caledonian forests. Some years since
an attempt was made to re-introduce this bird to its ancient
haunts in Scotland, but without success. “ It is a pity,”
continues Mr. Lloyd, “ that attempts are not made once
more to introduce the capercali into the United Kingdom,
for, if the experiment was undertaken with judgment, it
would most probably be attended with success; the climate,
soil, &c. in Scotland, at least, not being very disimilar, in
many respects, to the south of Sweden. In Scotland, be¬
sides, independently of the natural forests, there are now
considerable tracks of land planted with pines, from which
trees, when the ground is covered with snow, those birds
obtain nearly the whole of their sustenance.” Since this
was written, several brace of these birds have been sent
over from Sweden; and on the estates of the Marquis ofBread-
albane the experiment of localising them is in course of
trial. We believe they were procured by Mr. Lloyd him¬
self, and under his auspices, from his knowledge of the habits
of the bird, we doubt not that the cock of the wood will be¬
come permanently established in the Highlands. It may be
inferred that the same description of country (the heaths and
forests being on a more extended scale,) which suits the
blackcock, would likewise suit the capercailzie, since, as
Mr. Lloyd observers, “ the capercali occasionally breed with
the black game ; the produce of which partake of the lead¬
ing characteristics of both species. Their size and colour,
however, greatly depend upon whether the connexion was
between the capercali cock and the grey hen, or vice versa?
In winter, the male birds congregate in packs after the
manner of black game. In Sweden the capercailzie is usual¬
ly shot with the rifle.
p . The Ptarmigan. We have now for some time travers-
d ° ‘ ed, with the reader, the highest hills that are covered with
heather, but there are heights beyond. The poet says,
For Liberty! go seek
Earth’s highest rocks and ocean’s deepest caves!
Go where the eagle and the sea-snake dwell!2
It may be admissible in poetry to give the highest cliffs to
the king of birds, but zoology assigns a lower elevation to
“ the eagle’s birth-place yes, you may ascend above the
aerie of the eagle, where the croak of the raven is never heard,
where the fox and the weazel but seldom disturb the lonely
habitants. You may ascend until, in the glowing language of
Mr.Mudie,3 “you begin at last to feel alone,severed entirely
from the world of society, of life, and of growth, and commit¬
ted to the solitude of the ancient hills and immeasurable sky.
The snow lies thick on the side of the summit, and even
peers over the top, defying the utmost efforts of solstitial
The
heat. There is no plant under your feet, save lichen on Shooting,
the rock, apparently as hard and as strong as that to which
it adheres—it can hardly be said to grow—and moss in some
crevice, undistinguishable from the dull and cold mud into
which the storms of many winters have abraded the granite.
You are above the reach of all sound from the inhabited
parts of the country.” And what do we find in this re¬
gion of snow ? “ A few mottled pebbles, or at least what
appear to be such, each about twice the size of your hand,
lie at some distance, where the decomposed rock, and the
rudiments of what may be called the most elevated moun¬
tain vegetation, just begin to ruffle the surface. By and by
a cloud shadows the sun, the air blows chill as November,
and a few drops fall, freezing or melting in their descent,
you cannot well tell which. The mottled pebbles begin to
move; you throw a stone at them to shew that you can
move pebbles as well as the mountain. The stone hits be¬
yond them; they run toward your feet, as if claiming
your protection ; they are birds, ptarmigan, the uppermost
tenants of the island, whom not even winds, which could
uproot forests, and frosts, which could all but congeal mer¬
cury, can drive from these their mountain haunts. It has
often been observed, that of all the human inhabitants of
the earth, the mountaineer, be his mountain ever so barren,
is the last to quit; and the same holds true of the mountain
bird.” The same writer traces the different elevations at
which various species of game is found, beginning with the
pheasant, as the tenant of the lowermost woods; the par¬
tridge, of the plain ; the blackcock, of the confines of culti¬
vation ; the grouse, of the lesser hills and mountain-side;
and the ptarmigan, of the snow-crowned summits. He also
adds, “ in these birds we trace a sort of resemblance to the
general colour of the places which they inhabit, though we
know not well the cause of the colour in either case. The
ptarmigan is mossy rock in summer, hoar frost in autumn,
and snow in winter. Grouse are brown heather, black game
are peat-bank and shingle, and partridges are clods and
withered stalks all the year round.” And we will add, the
capercailzie is the black branch of the pine. A similar
scale is applicable to the seasons at which these birds are
hatched. Although, taking each species individually, we
find the earliest birds in the warmest country and on the
richest land: collectively, the order is reversed; the higher
their location, the earlier do they arrive at their full growth.
The ptarmigan is ready for the table before the period at
which it may be legally shot, the twelfth of August. De¬
scending the hill, we find the red grouse not three parts
grown at that period. A little lower, and the scarcely-
fledged black-cock rises almost helpless, on the twentieth
of August. Lower still, on the fertile plain, the young par¬
tridge does not assume his grey mantle and purple crescent
until long after the first of September. And in the warm
woods the pheasant does not don his panoply of gold until
the fall of the leaf.
Few are the sportsmen who climb the granite cliffs, and
wade the winter snows in which ptarmigan delight to bury
themselves. A ramble there, is a journey of curiosity or
observation, rather than a sporting excursion. It is a pil¬
grimage to the loftiest Highland altitudes. The fowling-
piece becomes converted into the palmer’s staff; and the
sportsman merges in the adventurer, the enthusiast, the
worshipper of Nature! (0t s> c.)
1 Field Sports of the North of Europe. * Rienzi, a Tragedy. (1st edition.) London.
3 The Feathered Tribes of the British Islands. By Robert Mudie. 2d edition. 1835. London, Whittaker.
S H O
Shore SHORE, Jane. See England, § Edward IV.
|| SHOREHAM, New, a parliamentary borough, market-
Shovel. town and seaport of England, in the county of Sussex, at
the mouth of the Adur, 6 miles W. of Brighton, and 56 S.
by W. of London. It consists for the most part of irregular
streets and quaint old houses, but has recently been much
improved. Near its centre stands the market-house, sup¬
ported on Doric pillars. The parish church is a fine speci¬
men of Norman architecture, being the remains of a large
cruciform edifice: the nave is in ruins, but the east front
and tower are very fine. The town contains also places of
worship for Independents and Wesleyan Methodists. Here,
too, is a grammar school, called the College of St Nicholas;
as well as various other schools, a museum, conservatory,
and theatre. The custom-house is an elegant building in
the Grecian style. The harbour is formed by the Adur,
which has a bar at its mouth, having from 14 to 17 feet of
water at high tides. An artificial channel has been cut for
the river, with piers on each side. The chief business
carried on in the town is ship-building. Many people are
also employed in fishing, and there are extensive manufac¬
tures of cement. The Adur was formerly crossed by a
ford, but a handsome suspension bridge was erected at
Shoreham in 1833. The number of sailing vessels re¬
gistered at the port, December 31, 1857, was 129, tonnage
16,131 ; of steamers, 2, tonnage 31. In the year end¬
ing at that date, there entered 812" sailing vessels, ton¬
nage 80,449; and 52 steamers, tonnage 8440—in all, 864
vessels, tonnage 88,889 :■ and there cleared 374 sailing ves¬
sels, tonnage 17,901 ; and 52 steamers, tonnage 8154—in
all, 426 vessels, tonnage 26,055. The borough of Shore¬
ham returns two members to Parliament. It includes nearly
all the rape of Bamber; and had, in 1851, a population of
30,553. That of the parish was only 2590.
SHORT, James, an optician of note, was born in Edia-
burgh on the 22d of June, in the year 1710. After spend¬
ing two years at Heriot’s Hospital, he, at the age of twelve,
was removed to the High School, where he showed a con¬
siderable taste for classical literature. In 1726 he entered
the university, and took his master’s degree with distinction.
He had been fortunate enough to have the celebrated
Maclaurin for his preceptor, wdio having soon discovered
the bent of his genius, and made a proper estimate of the
extent of his capacity, encouraged him to prosecute those
studies in which nature had qualified him to make the
greatest figure. Under the eye of that eminent master, he
began in 1732 to construct Gregorian telescopes, in which
he attained to great perfection. In the year 1736 Short
was called to London, at the desire of Queen Caroline, to
give instructions in mathematics to the Duke of Cumber¬
land ; and immediately on his appointment to that honour¬
able office he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society,
and patronised by the Earls of Morton and Macclesfield.
He made numerous telescopes, during his residence in Lon¬
don, of great magnifying power. He died on the 15th of
June 1768, at Newington Butts, near London, in his fifty-
eighth year.
SHORT-HAND. See Stenography.
SHOVEL, Sir Cloudesly, a distinguished British ad¬
miral, was born of poor parents in 1650. He was first put
apprentice to a shoemaker, but disliking this profession, he
a few years afterwards abandoned it and went to sea. He
was at first a cabin boy with Sir Christopher Mynns; but
having applied to the study of navigation with indefatigable
industry, his skill as a seaman soon raised him above that
station. Ihe corsairs of Tripoli having committed great
outrages on the English in the Mediterranean, Sir John
Narborough was sent in 1674 to reduce them to order.
As he had received orders to try the effects of negotiation
before he proceeded to hostilities, he sent Shovel, at that
time a lieutenant in his fleet, to demand satisfaction. The
S H R 227
Dey treated him with a great deal of disrespect, and sent Shrews-
him back without an answer. Sir John despatched him a bury,
second time, with orders to remark particularly the situa-
tion of things on shore. The behaviour of the Dey was
worse than ever, and upon Shovel’s return he informed Sir
John that it would perhaps be possible, notwithstanding
their fortifications, to burn all the ships in the harbour.
The boats were accordingly manned, and the command of
them given to Lieutenant Shovel, who seized the guard-
ship, and burned four others, without losing a man. This
action so terrified the Tripolins that they sued for peace.
Sir John Narborough gave so favourable an account of this
exploit, that Shovel was soon afterwards made captain of
the Sapphire, a fifth-rate ship. In the battle of Bantry Bay,
after the Revolution, he commanded the Edgar, and, for
his gallant behaviour in that action, was soon afterwards
knighted by King William. Next year he was employed
in transporting an army into Ireland, a service which he
performed with so much diligence and dexterity, that the
king raised him to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue, and
delivered his commission with his own hands. Soon after¬
wards he was made rear-admiral of the red, and shared the
glory of the victory at La Hogue. In 1694 he bombarded
Dunkirk. In 1703 he commanded the grand fleet in the
Mediterranean, and did everything in his power to assist
the Protestants who were in arms in the Cevennes. Soon
after the battle of Malaga, he was presented by Prince
George to Queen Anne, who received him graciously, and
next year employed him as commander-in-chief. In 1705
he commanded the fleet, together with the Earl of Peter¬
borough and Monmouth, which was sent into the Mediter¬
ranean ; and it was owing to him chiefly that Barcelona
was taken. After an unsuccessful attempt upon Toulon
he sailed for Gibraltar, and from thence, homewards with a
part of the fleet. On the 22d of October, at night, his ship,
with three others, was cast away on the rocks of Scilly,
and all on board perished. His body was found on the
island of Scilly by some fishermen, who stripped it of a
valuable ring, and afterwards buried it. Some say he was
murdered by the wreckers, but this statement cannot be
verified. Paxton, the purser of the Arundel, hearing of his
death, found out the fellows, and obliged them to discover
where they had buried the body. He carried it on board
his own ship to Portsmouth, whence it wras conveyed to
London, and there this eminent seaman was interred with
great solemnity in Westminster Abbey. A monument was
afterwards erecteo to his memory by the direction of the
queen. Sir Cloudesly married the widow of his patron, Sir
John Narborough, by whom he left two daughters.
SHREWSBURY, a market-town, parliamentary and
municipal borough of England, capital of Shropshire, plea¬
santly situated on the Severn, 50 miles S. by E. of Liver¬
pool, and 153 N.W. by W. of London. It occupies a com¬
manding eminence which gradually rises from the banks of
the river, whose stream gracefully bends in course round
three sides of the town, thus forming a peninsula having
its narrow isthmus towards the N.E. The general cha¬
racter of the town is antique; its streets are irregular,
and many of its houses are picturesque old edifices, built,
at least partially, of wood. The town, however, con¬
tains not a few very superior stone buildings. The
river is crossed by two handsome bridges, the English and
the Welsh, the former of which has seven arches, and the
latter five. The English bridge leads to the suburb of
Abbey-Foregate on the E., and the Welsh to that of
Frankwell on the W. Portions of the ancient walls still
remain, and also the keep of the castle, but the latter has
been modernised. It is a square, solid tower of the age
of Edward I. There is also a fine Norman gateway,
and some remains of a very ancient British fortress.
Many of the public buildings of Shrewsbury are remark.
228 S H R
Shrews- able. Among them are the market-house, which was built
bury, in the reign of Elizabeth, and is one of the most richly de-
corated buildings of the kind in England ; the town and
county hall, a large commodious edifice , and a fine Oriecian
structure, containing the post-office, music hall, and news¬
room. There are also numerous churches, some of which
are possessed of much interest. The abbey church is so
called because it formerly belonged to a Benedictine abbey,
founded in 1083. It was originally cruciform, but was
partially pulled down at the time of the dissolution of the
abbey. The north porch, nave, and western tower are the
portions that still remain. St Chad’s is a handsome modern
building of a circular form, in the Grecian style ; St Alk-
mund’s is also modern, with the exception of the tower and
spire of the more ancient edifice, 184 feet high; and St
Mary’s is a spacious cruciform church in the Norman and
early English styles. The last has very rich old stained
windows, and an elegant tower and spire, rising to the
height of 220 feet. Besides these, there are other places of
worship, mostly modern, belonging to the Established
Church, and to the Wesleyan, Primitive, and Calvinistic
Methodists, Independents, Baptists, Quakers, Roman Ca¬
tholics, and Unitarians. There are in all 13 churches and
26 dissenting chapels. The royal free grammar school
occupies a lofty freestone structure, forming three sides
of a court. This institution was founded by Edward VI.,
and greatly enlarged by Elizabeth. It has an endowment
of about L.2600 a year, and many scholarships and exhi¬
bitions at the universities. In the present century this
school rose to great celebrity under its master, Dr Butler,
afterwards Bishop of Lichfield ; and among its distinguished
scholars in former times were Sir Philip Sidney and Fulke
Greville. Shrewsbury has also a British school, and several
national and charity schools. There are a public library,
theatre, assembly rooms, circus, and public baths; a mili¬
tary depot, town and county jail and house of correction,
and a lunatic asylum. Near the entrance of the town, from
London, stands a Doric column in honour of Lord Hill;
and in the corn exchange, under the market-house, is a
statue of the Duke of York, father of Edward IV., brought
from the old Welsh bridge. To the S.W. of the town,
along the river’s side, is a place called the Quarry, supposed
to occupy the site of a Roman theatre, and now used for a
public walk. It has an area of 20 acres, and is planted
with lime-trees. Various manufactures are carried on,
especially those of thread, canvas, and malt; and the brawn
and cakes of Shrewsbury have long been famous. There
are also in the vicinity important iron-works. Salmon¬
fishing is pursued with much success in the Severn, and
that river is navigable for vessels of thirty or forty tons.
A large trade is carried on with the agriculturists in the
neighbourhood, and railways to all parts of England ra¬
diate from the town. There are several private and joint-
stock banks, and a savings’ bank. Weekly and monthly
markets are held. The borough is governed by a mayor,
ten aldermen, and thirty councillors, and sends two members
to the House of Commons. It is believed that a fortress
was erected here by the Britons after they found the Roman
Uriconium (Wroxeter) no longer tenable against the
Saxons. This must have taken place in the fifth century.
The fortress was called by the Britons Pengiuern, or Alder
Hill. But even this at length fell before the victorious
arms of the Saxons, who changed the name to Scrobbes-
byrig, or Shrubstown, whence the present name. In the
time of Alfred, Shrewsbury was one of the chief cities in
England; and his daughter Ethelfleda founded here the
church of St Alkmund. After the Norman Conquest it
formed part of the earldom of Shrewsbury, given by Wil¬
liam to Roger de Montgomery, who built the castle here;
but it was subsequently forfeited to the crown. Standing
as it does on the confines of Wales, Shrewsbury was the
SHE
scene of many conflicts between the rival nations. In 1215 Shropshire,
it was taken by the Welsh under Llewellyn the Great, but v—
not long retained ; and, in 1264, it was again for a short
time in the hands of the Welsh. Edward L, in 1277,
strengthened Shrewsbury, and made it his head-quaiteis,
and in 1283 assembled a Parliament here for the trial of
David, the last prince of Wales, who was executed as a
traitor. The name of Shrewsbury is likewise conspicuous
in the Wars of the Roses, and in the historical dramas of
Shakspeare. Here, in 1403, the forces of Henry IV. de¬
feated the insurgents under the Percys and Owen Glen-
dower. In the civil war of the seventeenth century,
Shrewsbury was held by a royalist garrison until 1645,
when it was surprised and taken by the parliamentary forces.
After the Restoration, the castle and property attached to
it were conferred by Charles II. on the Earl of Bradford,^
from whom they have been transferred to the Duke of
Cleveland, the present proprietor. Pop. of the borough
(1851) 19,681.
SHROPSHIRE, or Salop, an inland county of Eng¬
land. It is bounded on the N. by Cheshire and the
Welsh counties of Flint and Denbigh; on the W. by the
Welsh counties of Denbigh, Montgomery, and Radnor;
on the S. by Herefordshire and Worcestershire ; and on
the E. by Staffordshire. It is of an oblong figure, extend¬
ing from N. to S., and contains a variety of projections
and indentations. Its greatest length is about 48, and its
greatest breadth 40 miles. Its superficial contents are
1343 square miles, or 859,520 statute acres.
The face of the county is very much diversified. On the
western side it has the wild appearance of the adjoining
principality of Wales. Several of the Welsh mountain-
chains extend across the frontier of that country into Shrop¬
shire. Such are the Berwyn Hills in the north, which rise
to the height of 1300 feet; the picturesque Breiddin Hills,
on the right bank of the Severn ; and a long range of
smooth, rounded hills, extending from Radnorshire into
Shropshire, and known under the name of Clun Forest.
Throughout the rest of the county the land is rather undu¬
lating, tolerably wooded, and with many beautiful rivulets
meandering along the different valleys. The whole tract
of country in the east and north, from W ellington to the
termination of the county between Oswestry and Chirk,
exhibits the mild beauties of a fertile and cultivated district,
enclosed by well-formed hedges into fields, of dimensions
well calculated for advantageous husbandry, and orna¬
mented with several seats of noblemen and gentlemen,
which present a most pleasing succession of pictures to the
traveller. In the portion south and west of the Severn,
there are three principal chains of hills, extending from
S.W. to N.E. These are on the west the Longmynd, in
the centre the Caradoc Hills, and on the east Wenlock
Edge. The last of these rises abruptly out of the valley
on the west, but has a very gradual slope towards the east.
The Caradoc Hills extend across the Severn, and terminate
in the well-known hill called the Wrekin.
That singular insulated mountain, rising from a plain to
the height of 1320 feet, exhibits its sugar-loaf form oyer
the tops of the smaller elevations in its vicinity, and in¬
creases the interest of the scenery. In the southern divi¬
sion of the county, the Brown Clee Hill and the Titterson
Clee Hill rise to greater elevations than the Wrekin, and
produce much picturesque variety. These two are the
highest summits in the county; the former reaching the
height of 1805, and the latter that of 1750 feet.
The chief river is the Severn, which runs through the
whole extent of the county from N.W. to S.E. It is na¬
vigable at all seasons to the Bristol Channel downwards,
and in wet seasons upwards to Welshpool, in Montgomery¬
shire. Its whole course through Shropshire is 90 miles,
flowing at first towards the east, and then tunning to the
S HR O P
iropshire. south. The fish found in the Severn, in its course through
Shropshire, are salmon, pike, flounders, grayling, and eels.
There are also some lampreys, but they are less abundant
than in the lower parts of the river. The principal tribu¬
tary rivers are the Camlet, the Vyrnwey, the Tern, the
Clun, the Ony, the Teme, the Perry, the Rea, and the
Corve. There are, besides, innumerable rivulets and
streams, which adorn and fertilize the country. The lakes
of Shropshire, though neither numerous nor extensive,
form a variety in its landscapes rarely to be seen in the
midland counties of England. Adjoining the town of
Ellesmere is a beautiful lake of 116 acres, with some others
smaller near it. On the western side of the county is
Mereton Pool, of 45 acres. On the north of the Severn
are Fennymere, Llynclyspool, and Ancot; and at Shrawar-
dine is a fine lake of 40 acres. That side of the county
which most abounds in running streams has few or no lakes.
The canals of this county, if not equal in extent to those in
some others, yield to none in the skill of their construction,
in the obstacles they have surmounted, or in the beneficial
consequences by which they have been followed. The first
canal was a private undertaking by a Mr Reynolds, com¬
pleted in the year 1788, for the conveyance of his ironstone
and coals. It was of no great length, but a descent of 73
feet was conducted by a well-contrived inclined plane and
double railroad, by means of which the loaded boat passing
down drew up another with a load nearly equal to one
third of its own weight. This contrivance was found to be
applicable to similar purposes upon a larger scale, and was
speedily adopted by a company who, under the power of
an act of Parliament, constructed the Shropshire Canal,
which passes through the most considerable iron and coal
works, till it reaches the Severn. The Ellesmere Canal is
a most important undertaking, as by it a communication is
opened between the Severn and all the great canals and
rivers in the north of England. Bristol and Liverpool are
thus become connected by inland navigation; and the rivers
Severn, Dee, Mersey, Trent, and Humber, are united for
the purposes of conveyance. In other means of communi¬
cation Shropshire is not deficient. It is traversed by many
good roads; that from London to Holyhead, formerly the
great, route to Dublin, passing through this county. Several
railways also afford more rapid means of transit. The
Birmingham, Shrewsbury, and Chester line enters Shrop¬
shire from the east, and leaves it on the N.W. A branch
of this line diverges to Stafford, and another shorter one to
Oswestry. A great part of the Shrewsbury and Hereford
line also lies in the county, running southwards from
Shrewsbury to Ludlow. Besides these main lines, there
are many short railways and tram-roads used in connection
with the various mines for conveying their produce to the
furnace or to the canals. The river Severn nearly forms
a line of demarcation between two distinct geological for¬
mations which occupy the county; the northern portion,
consisting for the most part of red sandstone, and the
southern of older formations. The new red sandstone forms
a basin round a central deposit of lias, between Whit¬
church and Market-Drayton. Around and beneath this,
occupying the whole north of Shropshire, and portions also
of Staffordshire and Cheshire, lie the deposits of new red
sandstone, with the lowest strata nearest the outside. The
southern limit of this formation extends south of the
Severn in the west of the county, and again at a point near
the Caradoc Hills; but further east it does not reach so
far as that river, and terminates near Newport on the
border of Staffordshire. It is succeeded by various dif¬
ferent formations. At some places Silurian rocks extend
to the north of the Severn, and the Wrekin is composed
of trap ; but the most important deposits in this the central
part of Shropshire are those of coal. Of these the most
valuable is that of Coalbrookdale ; but there are also exten-
SHIRE. 229
sive fields about Westbury and Pontesbury in the west; Shropshire,
and others completely isolated near Oswestry in the north, i j
and in several places in the south. A large extent of old
red sandstone occupies the S.E. portion of Shropshire ; and
a separate deposit of the same rock forms Clun Forest in
the S.W. The remainder of the county, a portion equal
to one-fourth of its area, lying in the S.W., consists of the
Silurian and Cambrian systems of rocks. Among these
are limestone, sandstone, and several varieties of trap-rock.
In a county of such extent the soil must be very varied.
On the eastern side, the valleys are flat and warm, and the
soil generally of a sandy nature. In the middle part, the
soil is most tenacious, and the bottoms of the wider valleys
have frequently a stiff but rich clay. On the most western
parts, the soil is very shallow, resting upon rocks of varied
description ; and is better calculated for sheep-pasture than
for producing grain. There are some moorlands, but en¬
closures and drainage have considerably diminished their
extent. A very great portion of the soil rests on a lime¬
stone subsoil; and almost the whole of the plains are easy
to work with light ploughs and two or three horses. The
easterly wind generally prevails in the spring, and the
westerly in autumn ; but the former is more remarkable
for regularity than the latter. The whole of the county
enjoys a salubrious air'; but on the hills, on the western
side, the cold of winter is most intensely felt.
The agriculture of the county has made considerable
progress of late, though in some parts it is still in a very
backward condition. In the west of the county progress
is much retarded by the small size of the farms, and the
short leases by which they are held. In this portion they
frequently do not exceed 20 acres in extent, while in the
east their size varies from 100 to 500 acres. Most of the
farms are arable, but some depend chiefly on hay, dairy
produce, and the rearing of cattle and sheep. The Here¬
fordshire breed of cattle is common in the south, along
with various mixed breeds. The most prevailing breed of
sheep is one resembling the Southdown, but many of the
New Leicesters are to be seen, and in the hilly parts of the
county are many of the fine woolled Welsh sheep. The
meadows on the banks of the Severn, and on the flat lands
contiguous to the smallest streams, afford pasturage for
numerous cows, whose milk affords a kind of cheese, com¬
monly sold under the denomination of Cheshire, though
much inferior to the genuine article. The corn generally
cultivated is either wheat, barley, oats, or pease, and the
crops on an average equal in productiveness those of the
best districts of the kingdom. Hops are grown in small
quantities upon that part of the county which adjoins to
Herefordshire. Some small portions of land are appro¬
priated to the growth of hemp and flax. The cultivation
of potatoes has been very much extended of late years, and
now furnishes a large proportion of the aliment of the
labouring part of the population. The growth of hay, and
the cultivation of artificial grasses, are more neglected than
any other branch of rural economy. On the flat lands the
deposits from the overflowing of the streams sufficiently
enrich them without any artificial manure ; but the hay
produced on such situations is liable to be much injured by
the floods that frequently occur in summer. This, how¬
ever, is guarded against by embankments in the upper part
of the river.
A great portion of the wealth of this county consists in
the mineral productions, which are most profusely found
beneath its surface. The chief of these are lead, iron,
limestone, freestone, pipe-clay, and coals. The lead is pro¬
cured in considerable quantities, chiefly from the mines of
Stiperstone and Snailbeach. The matrix of the ore is
crystallized quartz, sulphate and carbonate of barytes, and
carbonate of lime. The quantity of lead ore obtained in
the county in 1858 was 3994 tons, yielding 2993 tons of lead,
230
SHROPSHIRE.
Shropshire,being considerably above the average of the previous ten
^years. The total amount of ore raised in that period was
35,602 tons, yielding 25,916 tons of lead, or 72-796 tons of
metal for every 100 tons of ore. The iron ore is found con¬
tiguous to the coal, and frequently close to it. This is espe¬
cially the case about Coalbrookdale, a division peculiarly rich
in those minerals. This district is about 8 miles long and 2
broad, on the banks of the Severn, on the western side of
the Wrekin, and running parallel with it, from N.E. to
S.W. The whole, but especially the southern part, of the
coal district, is considerably above the plain of Shropshire,
so that at one part the height is 500 feet above the Severn.
The works of the dale supply both iron and coal, as well as
limestone, in great quantities ; and every part of the pro¬
cess, from digging the ore to the completion of the manu¬
facture, including the conversion of the coal into coke, is
performed on the spot. Arthur Young, describing this
part of the county, says—“ Coalbrookdale is a winding
glen, between two immense hills, which break into various
forms, being all thickly covered, and forming most beauti¬
ful sheets of hanging woods. The noise of the forges,
mills, furnaces, &c., with all their vast machinery, the
flames bursting from the furnaces, with the burning coal,
and the smoke of the limekilns, are altogether horribly sub¬
lime.” A bridge of cast-iron, the first, we believe, con¬
structed in this kingdom, thrown over the Severn, gives to
the whole scenery a most romantic appearance. Soon after
it was ascertained that iron might be made with coals re¬
duced to the state of coke, as well as from wood, the ope¬
ration of coking was begun here by Lord Dundonald, with
a view to obtain the fossil tar in the course of the process.
This operation led to the discovery of that gas, extracted
from coal, whose brilliant light now serves to illuminate so
many of our streets and public buildings. In this dale was
discovered, in opening a coal-mine, a copious spring of
fossil tar. It yielded, at first, very plenteously, but the
quantity diminished in a few years, and although it still
runs, its 'produce is but of small amount. Though the
iron-works were first begun on a large scale in this dale,
they are by no means confined to it; for in many ether
parts of the county they are carried on to an extent that is
unequalled in any other country but Great Britain. The
quantity of iron ore raised in Shropshire in 1858 was
150,500 tons, valued at L.38,135. There are in all 32
furnaces in the county, of which 25 are in blast; and these
produced in the year above mentioned 101,016 tons of
pig-iron. In the same year there were produced from 57
collieries, 749,360 tons of coal. The number of persons
employed in the various mining operations in Shropshire,
and in manufactures connected with them, amounts to
several thousands. The manufacture of iron is here car¬
ried on with great care and skill, and with the aid of power¬
ful machinery.
Besides the process of separating the iron from its ore,
and bringing it into the state of bar-iron and pig-iron, the
other steps in the application of that mineral to general
purposes are made within this county. The larger kind of
iron goods, whether cast or wrought, are prepared, and
many of the iron bridges erected in different parts of the
kingdom have been made here. Some of the largest
establishments for making porcelain have been formed
here, especially that for iron-stone china in Coalbrookdale.
Glass, earthenware, bricks and tiles, are also made in the
county, as well as coarse linen cloth, carpets, and gloves.
Shropshire contains two divisions, a north and a south;
and is subdivided into 14 hundreds. It returns in all 12
members to Parliament; two each for the northern and
southern divisions; and two each for the boroughs of
Bridgnorth, Ludlow, Shrewsbury, and Wenlock. Its ec¬
clesiastical division is into 225 parishes, with parts of 19
others; belonging to the dioceses of St Asaph, Hereford,
and Lichfield. According to the census of 1851, the Shropshire
county contained in all 679 places of worship, with 145,186
sittings. Of the former, 291 belonged to the Established
Church, 262 to Wesleyan Methodists of various subordinate
sects, 59 to Independents, 31 to Baptists, 11 each to Cal-
vinistic Methodists and Roman Catholics, 3 to Quakers,
&c. At the same period the total number of public day-
schools was 247, attended by 18,859 scholars; the number
of private day-schools 312, attended by 6395 scholars.
There were also 298 Sunday-schools, attended by 22,705
scholars, and 14 evening schools for adults, attended by
175 scholars.
Before the Roman conquest of Britain, the present
county of Shropshire was divided by the Severn between
the Cornavii on the east, and the Ordovices on the west.
Under the Romans the same river formed the boundary
between Flavia Csesariensis and Britannia Secunda, the
latter comprehending the modern Wales, and the former
the centre of England. Numerous remains of old British
camps still exist in various parts of the county, especially
one called Caer Caradoc, near Church Stretton, 'and the
Gaer ditches near Clun. The latter is believed by some
to be the place where Caractacus was defeated by Ostorius
Scapula. The chief Roman station was Uriconium, now
Wroxeter, where there are extensive remains. There is
also a camp near Bridgnorth, and a Roman road known by
the name of Watling Street, traverses the county. After
the departure of the Romans and the invasion of Britain by
the Saxons, this county was the scene of frequent en¬
counters between the natives and the invaders ; and many
of the half mythical exploits of the celebrated King Arthur
are said to have taken place here. Ultimately the Saxons
extended their dominion as far as the foot of the Welsh
hills, and established in Shropshire and the adjacent county
a kingdom called Myrenaland, or Mercia, the land of the
marchmen or borderers. In order to defend this country
from the attacks of the Welsh, OfFa, one of its kings,
erected a dyke extending from the Dee to the Bristol
Channel. Several portions of this fortification may still be
traced in the extreme west of Shropshire, and are still
known under the name of Offa’s dyke. At a later period
the Danes also penetrated as far as this part of the country,
and built a fortress on the Severn below Bridgnorth.
When they were expelled, and the Heptarchy united under
Alfred, Shropshire was made a county, deriving its original
name of Scrobbescyre from Scrobbesburg, or Shrewsbury,
its chief town. After the Norman conquest, almost the
whole county was granted to Roger de Montgomery.
Our limits do not admit of lengthened descriptions of
the numerous remains of ancient architecture which are
still existing in this county. The most remarkable are
Haughmond Abbey, about *4 miles from Shrewsbury ; the
walls of Wroxeter, of British and Roman construction ; the
Abbey of Buildwas, founded in 1135 by Roger bishop of
Chester, for monks of the Cistercian order; the Monastery
of Wenlock, founded in 680, destroyed by the Danes, and
afterwards re-established; the Roman camp, called the
Walls, at Quatford; the castle of Ludlow, celebrated for its
splendour in the reigns of Henry VIII. and of Elizabeth,
during the latter period the residence of the Sidneys, and
in the reign of Charles I. immortalized as the place where
Milton composed some of his works ; Wannington Castle,
near Oswestry, a house of strength before the Norman con¬
quest; Lilleshall Abbey, near Newport, with one of the
most highly adorned Norman arches in the kingdom; and
Boscobel House, with the oak in the grounds near it which
served as a shelter to Charles II., when, after the battle of
Worcester, he was closely pursued by the victorious party.
The principal seats of noblemen and gentlemen are Wal-
cot, belonging to Earl Powis; Lilleshall to the Duke of
Sutherland ; Hawkstone to Viscount Hill; Weston Hall
S H R S I A 231
Shrove- to the Earl of Bradford; Attingham House to Lord Ber-
fuesday wick; Burwarton Hall to Viscount Boyne; Shavington
II Hall to the Earl of Kilmorey ; Willey Park to Lord Fores-
Shtisha. > ^Burnell to Sir Edward Smythe ; Aldenham to
* Sir John Acton, &c. The population of Shropshire at
each of the decennial periods of census was as follows:—
in 1801, 182,695; 1811, 199,263; 1821, 215,058; 1831,
230,990; 1841,241,685; 1851,244,898.
SHROVE-Tuesday is the Tuesday after Quinquage-
sima Sunday, or the day immediately preceding the first of
Lent, being so called from the Saxon word to shrive, which
signifies to confess. The reader may consult Brand’s
Popular Antiquities for an account of the ancient Shrove¬
tide amusements of the people of England.
SHROUDS, a range of large ropes extending from the
mast-heads to the right and left side of the ship, to support
the masts, and enable them to carry sail. They receive
their names according to the masts or portions of the ship
to which they belong.
SHUMLA, or Shumna, a fortified town of European
Turkey, Bulgaria, in the pashalic and 58 miles S.S.W. of
Silistria, 225 miles N.N.W. of Constantinople. It is a
place of great importance in a military view, insomuch that
it has obtained the name of the key of the Balkan ; for to
this point there converge roads and tracks from all the
chief fortresses on the Danube to the north, and from the
passes of the Balkan to the south. The fortifications of
the town are not themselves the sources of its strength,
but the entrenched camps that have been formed on the
heights to the south and west, commanding the town and
preventing an enemy from approaching by this route to
the passes of the mountains. The town has more the
appearance of a vast village than of a fortified place ; it is
spread over a wide extent of ground, each house standing
with its own stables and cow-houses in the middle of a
separate yard. A rivulet divides it into an upper and a
lower town. The former is inhabited by Turks, and con¬
tains numerous handsome mosques and baths ; while the '
latter, occupied by Jews and Christians, is very unhealthy,
chiefly on account of its extreme dirt. Shumla contains a
Greek and an Armenian church, several Bulgarian schools,
infantry and cavalry barracks, and a new hospital, all of
stone. There are three forts in the plain and one on the
hills ; but the fortifications were in an unfinished state
until the Russian war in 1854, when they were completed.
Some remains of antiquity still exist here in the shape of
decaying arches and fountains. The mausoleum of Djezzar
Hassan Pasha is one of the finest objects in the town. The
copper and lead foundries of Shumla are considered the
best in Turkey ; weaving and silk-spinning are also carried
on, and the trade of the town is very considerable. Wine,
hardware, and manufactured goods are the principal articles
of commerce. Shumla was first conquered by the Turks
in 1387. In subsequent times it has been three times
attacked by Russian armies, but always without success.
The dates of these attempts were 1774, 1810, and 1828.
On the last occasion, however, in the following year,
Marshal Diebitch, leaving the town on his right, succeeded
in crossing the Balkan by a pass further to the east. The
population of Shumla is estimated at 30,000.
SHUMSHABAD, a town of British India, in the dis¬
trict and 12 miles N.W. of Furruckabad, 88 miles N.E. of
Agra. It stands in a marshy track 8 miles from the west
bank of the Ganges, and formerly was a much more im¬
portant town than it is at present, yielding an annual
revenue of L.20,000. Pop. 6920.
SHUSHA, or Shushi, a town of Asiatic Russia, capital
of a circle in the government of Shamaka, Transcaucasia,
70 miles S.E. of Ganjeh. It is fortified, and occupies a
strong position on a mountain accessible only from one
side. Silk and woollen cloth are manufactured here.
Shusha was founded by Nadir Shah, and was at one time Shuster
the capital of the khanat of Karabagh. Pop. 13,469. ||
SHUSTER, a town of Persia, in the province of Khuz- 8>am-
istan, at the foot of a low range of hills on the Karun, which
is here crossed by an ancient bridge about 300 yards long,
170 miles W. by S. of Ispahan. Immediately above the
town the river divides into two branches, thus enclosing it on
two sides ; while a wet ditch or small canal connecting the
two completes the circuit of the town. A steep rock rises
abruptly from the river’s edge, and on this is built a castle,
a place of no great strength, as its walls are dilapidated,
and it is commanded by higher ground in the vicinity. In
the castle is the large substantial residence of the governor.
The town occupies the slope of the hill towards the S.W.
It is mostly built of stone, and has many handsome
edifices; the streets, however, are generally very narrow.
It is divided into twelve quarters, each governed by its
separate chief, according to a sort of feudal system. Hav¬
ing been almost depopulated by the plague in 1832,
Shuster does not contain more than 13,000 inhabitants,
though the number of houses exceeds 10,000.
SHUTTLE. See Weaving.
SIAK, a native state in the Island of Sumatra, on the
coast of the Strait of Malacca, extending from the equator
to about 3. N. Lat, and from the central mountains down
to the sea. It is nearly square, about 160 miles each way,
and is bounded by the river Kampar in the south, and the
Assahan in the north. It derives its name from the river
Siak, which traverses its central portion, and overflows the
low flat regions which lie along the coast. The chief pro¬
ductions of the country are rice, cotton, various vegetables
and fruits, honey, ivory, and bamboos. There are large
numbers of cattle and game. There are numerous trading
places along the coast, and several islands afford behind
them shelter for ships. The whole coast, however, is very
much infested with pirates. The state is governed by a
sultan, who resides at Siak, the capital. At this place an
active trade is carried on in the produce of the country
with Singapore, Penang, &c.
SIAM, an independent kingdom of Eastern India, ex¬
tending from about the 5th to the 21st degree of north lati¬
tude, and from the 98th to the 105th degree of east longi¬
tude. Its area is probably not less than 250,000 square
miles. It is bounded on the N. by Laos; E. by Laos,
Camboja, and the Gulf of Siam; S. by the Gulf of Siam
and the Malay peninsula; and W. by the Bay of Bengal,
the Tenasserim provinces, and the Birman empire.
Within these boundaries are included not only Siam
Proper, but likewise the tributary Malayan states on the
south, the conquered territory of Camboja and Korat on the
east, and the tributary Laos states on the north and north¬
east. The Malayan tributary states are Patani, Tringanu,
Kalantan, and Quedah. The dependence of these states,
however, especially the last three, is little else than no¬
minal ; with regard to Patani it is more complete, on
account of its population being to a large extent Siamese.
Camboja is now nearly divided between Siam and Cochin-
China. Of this once powerful kingdom only a small rem¬
nant, of about two degrees of longitude, and three or four
of latitude, with the single seaport of Kampot, and perhaps
half a million of subjects, remain to the present monarch.
Korat is only a small territory; but it has a walled town of
great strength, which can only be approached through a
dense and dangerous jungle. The Laos states are divided
into two very distinct sections; those who tattoo their
bodies, and those who do not. The tattooed, or black-
bellies, occupy the districts of Xieng-Mai, Laphun, Lakhon,
Muang-Phre, and Muang-Nan ; the non-tattooed, or white-
bellies, live in the districts of Muang-Lom and Muang-
Luang-Phra-Bang. The w estern region of the country is
inhabited by the white-bellies, the eastern by the black-
232 S I
Siam, bellies. They are divided into a number of petty king-
corns; but few of them are strictly independent,most of them
being tributary to the king of Siam. (See Royal Geo. Soc.
Jour., vol. xxvi.)
The country of Siam is traversed, from north to south,
by several mountain-chains, which descend from the moun¬
tainous province of Yun-nan, in China. Two of these
ranges enclose between them the fertile valley of the Me-
nam, which may be said to comprise the whole of Siam
Proper. The western chain separates the waters of the
Menam from the Saluen, and extends southwards to the
mouth of the Tenasserim river. On the eastern bank of
that stream rises the chain of the “ Three Hundred Peaks,”
a name derived from its sharp and conical summits. It
terminates about 11. N. Lat.; but is succeeded by other
ranges, which traverse the Malay peninsula. The moun¬
tain-chain which divides the Menam from the Mei-kong, or
Camboja river, is little known; but where seen and visited
it seems to be of moderate elevation, and is richly covered
with vegetation. Of the western mountains of Siam, some
of the summits are estimated to rise to the height of 5000
or 6000 feet; but as yet our information of the nature of
the country is very vague and meagre. The mountains
seem to be mostly covered with a thick jungle of trees.
Siam possesses a great extent of sea-coast. The Gulf of
Siam is almost entirely bordered by its territory, and it has
also about 500 miles of coast on the Bay of Bengal. Alto¬
gether, it may be said to have a coast-line of about 2000
miles. The Gulf of Siam is about 500 miles in length,
from south-east to north-west, and has an average breadth
of about 250. It is little exposed to the typhoons and
tempests which do so much damage in the Chinese seas.
There is a gulf-current, which, from October to March,
flows from north to south, at the rate of nearly three miles
an hour; after April its ordinary course is from south to
north. “ The Admiralty charts,” says Sir John Bowring,
“ are full of extraordinary blunders. Some were pointed
out by Mr Crawfurd more than a third of a century ago,
but have remained uncorrected to the present hour.” Re¬
cently, however, this gulf has been surveyed by Mr John
Richards, R.N., and it is hoped that these errors will now
be corrected. (See Royal Geog. Society's Proceedings for
1859.) The gulf contains numerous islands all along its
coasts. They are of small size, but many ot them are
valuable as furnishing the edible birds’ nests which form so
large an article of commerce with China. In the Bay of
Bengal, too, off the Siamese coast, there are numerous
islands, usually of small size, rocky, and elevated. Ihe
largest are St Matthews and Salanga, or Junk Ceylon, each
being about 16 miles in length by 6 in breadth. 1 he
channels between them are generally of great depth, and
seldom less than 4 or 5 fathoms.
The practicability of establishing communication between
the Bay of Bengal and the Gulf of Siam, by means of a
ship-canal cut across the Isthmus of Krah, has been advo¬
cated by more than one writer. The direct distance across
the isthmus, in about 11. N. Lat., is about 50 miles; and it
is said that only a few miles of cutting would be required.
There is on the one side the Pakchan river, which falls into
the Bay of Bengal, and on the other the Choomphon river,
which enters the Gulf of Siam, both navigable for boats;
while the space between them is so low, that, according to
the natives, the two rivers frequently commingle their
waters during the spring-tides. A canal here would be of
immense importance to vessels trading between India and
Eastern Asia, and would effect a saving in time often to be
estimated, not by days, but by weeks. “A ship-canal
here,” says Sir John Bowring “ if practicable, would be
next in importance to those which have been proposed to
cross the Isthmus of Darien in America, and that of Suez
in Egypt.”
A M.
The most important river of Siam is the Menam, or Siam.
Meinam, aname signifying,in Siamese, “Mother of Waters.”
It takes its rise in the mountains of Yun-nan, in China, by
two branches, which unite about N. Lat. 22. The west¬
ern, called Nan-ting-ho, rises about N. Lat. 24., and is the
longer of these branches ; but the Meiprein is considered by
the Siamese the main stream. The united river still re¬
tains the name of Meiprein, and flows through Lower Laos,
or Yan-shan, becoming navigable for boats at Xang-Mai,
the capital of that territory. Farther down, however, its
navigation is impeded by rapids and cataracts. After being
joined by the Phitsalok, it takes the name of Menam. In
the flat country of Siam Proper it more than once divides
itself into several streams, and falls into the Gulf of Siam
by three mouths, after a course of about 800 miles. The
Menam, like the Nile, annually overflows its banks, and
fertilises a large district of country. Its waters begin to
rise in the month of June, and in August they overflow the
banks to a height sometimes exceeding six feet above their
ordinary level. They generally remain in this state till the
month of November, when they begin to subside ; and by
the end of December the river has returned to its natural
bed. When the waters are supposed to have reached their
height, the king deputes a hundred priests to command the
inundation to proceed no farther. I his, however, does not
always succeed; and sometimes the country suffers fearfully
from an extraordinary rise of the waters. During the pre¬
valence of the inundation the country has the appearance
of one vast lake, and boats traverse it in all directions.
The valley of Menam is estimated to be about 450 miles in
length, with an average breadth of about 50 miles, “ con¬
stituting,” says Sir John Bowring, “according to the usually
received estimates, an area ot above 22,000 square miles of
territory, whose fertility is not exceeded by that of any por¬
tion of the globe.” The principal mouth of the Menam is
the eastern, on which the town of Bang-kok stands, and is
the only one navigable for large vessels. 1 he most western
mouth is the Me-klong, so called from the river of that
name which falls into it, and which is said to be navigable
for boats for about 200 miles. The central mouth also re¬
ceives a river, the Tachin, which is navigable for a consi¬
derable distance. East of the eastern mouth of the Menam
is another large river, the Bang-pa-kong, which rises in the
mountains of Camboja, between 15. and 16. N. Lat., and
is said to carry down a volume of water not much less
than the Menam itself. The plain of Siam Proper is in¬
tersected by' numerous canals. In the east of Siam is
Meikong, or Camboja river, one of the largest of Southern
Asia. It rises in the mountains of Yun-nan, about N. Lat.
27. 20., and, flowing in a south by east direction, through
Laos and Camboja, falls into the sea by three mouths, about
N. Lat. 9. 35. It has a length of about 1500 miles; but
its navigation is much impeded by sand-banks at its mouths.
In the west the principal river of Siam is the Saluen, which
for several hundred miles forms the boundary between it
and Burmah. It rises in the eastern portion of Tibet,
flows south through the Chinese province of Yun-nan,
forms the boundary between the Burmese empire on the
west, and the territories of Laos and Siam on the east, and
then flows through the northern portion of the Tenassenm
provinces, to its mouth in the Bay of Bengal. It has a
length of probably about 800 miles, but seems to be little
suited for navigation. The climate of Siam is, for a tropical
region, salubrious. The Siamese suffer from those diseases
common to tropical countries—fevers, diarrhoeas, and dysen¬
teries being the most fatal. Travellers who pass into the
interior are very liable to the jungle fever. The year, as
in other tropical countries, is divided into a wet and a dry
season. At Bang-kok the dry season lasts from October to
April, and during this period the weather is temperate ; but
in April and the beginning of May, before the rains set in,
SIAM,
233
Siam, the heat becomes very oppressive, the thermometer being
as high as 95°or 96° in the shade. The rains commence
early in May, and continue to September. The prevailing
winds are regular, blowing at difterent seasons of the year
from all points of the compass. About the end of Sep¬
tember the north-east monsoon begins to prevail, whence
the wind veers gradually round towards the east, south, and
west.
This interesting country is particularly rich in natural
productions. “ In its great outlines,” says Sir John Bow-
ring, “ the animal, mineral, and vegetable world resembles
that of other tropical regions, though in every part of the
field there are varieties in detail which belong to the
domain of the naturalist. They will become in time the
objects of particular attention; and no portion of the East
is probably so inviting as the Siamese regions, from their
extent, their richness, and their novelty. There is, indeed,
almost everything to explore; and the inquirer may now
‘expatiate boldly,’ with a certainty of having a full recom¬
pense for his exertions and investigations.” Of the geology
or mineralogy of Siam little is yet known. Tin abounds,
and forms an important article of export. Copper and lead
are also obtained in large quantities. Antimony and zinc
exist, but the ores are networked. Silver is found in com¬
bination with copper, lead, and arsenic; and gold is obtained
in many parts. Iron mines are wrought at Tha Sung by
the Chinese, and the ore is said to be very rich. Precious
stones abound in various parts of the country. Agriculture
is in a very backward state, and their implements of hus¬
bandry are of the very rudest description. In many places the
land is prepared by turning in herds of buffaloes during the
rainy season, to trample down the weeds and move the soil,
which is then harrowed by a coarse rake, or a bush of thorny
shrubs, after which the seed is broadcast upon the surface.
The most important crop is rice, of which large quantities
are now exported. The annual produce of rice at present
is estimated at 25,000 tons; but by improved and ex¬
tended cultivation, this might be raised to 100,000 tons.
“ The extent of cultivable rice land,” says Sir John Bow¬
ring, “ is capable of being doubled or trebled; there is now
only one rice harvest in a year, and there might well be
two.” The sugar-cane is largely cultivated, but principally
under the direction of the Chinese settlers. According to
the authority already quoted, sugar will probably become
the most important of all the exports of Siam, the soil being
particularly adapted to its cultivation. Maize is extensively
cultivated, particularly in the mountainous districts. The
bamboo is to the natives one of the most valuable of pro¬
ducts, being made to serve an almost infinite variety of
purposes. Siam is noted for the great variety and abun¬
dance of its fruit-trees. The whole neighbourhood of
Bang-kok is one forest of fruit-trees, and the products are
both various and excellent. The chief fruits are the cocoa-
nut, banana, pine-apple, tamarind, mango, guava, orange,
lemon, citron, pomegranate, mangosteen, and durian, a
fruit of an exquisite flavour, but with a very disagreeable
odour. Among the other vegetable products of the country
aie cotton, tobacco, sago, black pepper, cardamums, sapan-
wood, gamboge, and. gutta-percha. The Aquila, or eagle
wood {lignum aloes) is of great consumption as a perfume
among the nations of Eastern Asia.
The elephant is very common in Siam, and here that
animal is said to attain its greatest perfection, being some¬
times twelve or thirteen feet in height. They are exten¬
sively used throughout the country for riding and carrying
burdens, except in the capital, where their use is restricted
°'m Personf h'&Ii rank. The destruction of even the
w1 elephant is prohibited, yet many are killed surrepti-
ious y for the sake of their tusks. Tigers abound, espe-
C1& y in the Laos country; and the leopard and tigeivcat
are common. Of ruminating animals there are several
vox.. XX.
species of deer, the goat, the ox, and the buffalo. Animals
of the monkey tribe are numerous. Dogs and cats are seen
in large numbers in the streets and houses of the Siamese.
Bears, wild pigs, and porcupines, are common in the jungles
and forests. The feathered tribes are very numerous, and
range from the humming-bird to the karien, a species of
stork as tall as a man. The reptiles of Siam are multitu¬
dinous, and include crocodiles, tortoises, lizards, serpents,
&c. Of insects, the caccus lacca produces the gum called
lac in commerce.
The population of Siam is variously given, but may be
estimated at from 5,000,000 to 6,000,000. It is made up
of different races, the principal of which are Siamese,
Chinese, Laos, Malays, and Cambojans. The Siamese are
supposed to amount to about 1,800,000, and are principally
located on the banks of the Menam and tributary streams
south of N. Lat. 20., and down the peninsula to about N.
Lat. 7. The Laos population is estimated at about
1,000,000, and principally occupy the great valley through
which the Camboja flows, between N. Lat. 13. and 21.
The Cambojans, who are only about half as numerous as
the Laos, occupy the southern districts of the Camboja,
down to the frontiers of Cochin-China. The Malayans, of
whom there are probably nearly 1,000,000, occupy the
peninsula south of N. Lat. 7. The Chinese settlers in
Siam are estimated at about 1,500,000. (See Bowring’s
Siam.)
The government of Siam is a pure despotism, uncon¬
trolled by laws, ancient usages, or any form of assembly.
There is, indeed, a body of laws occupying, it is said, about
seventy volumes, but the king has the power of at any time
superseding the ordinary course of justice. He has, in¬
deed, absolute power over the property, liberty, and lives
of his subjects. There are practically three principal
tribunals for the administration of justice, those of the
king, the princes, and the provincial governors ; but bribery
prevails in every department, and from the judge down to
the lowest clerk every one has his price. The king sits in
public during a certain part of one day in the week for the
purpose of receiving complaints. There is a second or
inferior king of Siam, who exercises a kind of secondary
or reflected authority, the exact nature or extent of which
does not seem to be clearly defined. He is generally a
brother or near relative of the king. A characteristic
feature of Siamese society is the abject submission of
every inferior to all who are superior to him in the social
scale. “ No man of inferior rank dares to raise his head
to the level of that of his superior; no person can cross a
bridge if an individual of higher grade chances to be passing
below; no mean person may walk upon a floor above that
occupied by his betters. . . . Honours almost divine,
language quite devotional, humiliations the most degrading,
mark the difference between sovereign and subject; and to
some extent the same reverence is paid to age which is ex¬
hibited towards authority.” (Bowring’s Siam.) A large
part of the population is in a state of slavery ; and every
man above the age of twenty is bound to devote four
months of the year to the service of the king. Public
officers are often made responsible for the faults of those
committed to their care ; and parents are frequently made
to bear a part of the punishment inflicted on their children
because they ought to have taught them better. The
parent has absolute power over his children, and may even
sell them for slaves; but he cannot take away their life.
Polygamy is legal, but there is always one wife in chief
who has the pre-eminence and control over the rest.
Marriage is a purely civil rite, and divorces are frequent
and obtained with little difficulty.
The bonzes or priests are chai’ged with the public edu¬
cation, and schools are attached to most of the religious
establishments. Elementary education seems to be pretty
2 a
Siam.
234
Siam.
S I A
generally diffused among the male population, and a con¬
siderable portion of them are able to read and write , but
the females are almost entirely neglected. Instruction is
chiefly confined to the creeds and rites of Buddhism, and
there are few means of acquiring any of the higher branches
of knowledge. „ . „ .
The religion of Siam is Buddhism. Ihe priests or
bonzes (Siamese Phra) are very numerous, exceeding, it
is said, a hundred thousand. They generally live in con¬
vents attached to the temples, and are relieved of all taxes
or services to the king or state. Every male must at some
period of his life become a candidate for the priestly office,
and remain for at least three months in a monastery, after
which he may return to his secular condition. At the head
of the pi-iesthood is the Sangkharat, or high priest, who is
appointed by the king, and who always resides in the
palace. His authority is supreme over all the pagodas and
bonzes of the kingdom ; but beyond this he has no tem¬
poral or spiritual authority. The priesthood is supported
by the spontaneous offerings of the people ; and their duty
is to atone for the transgressions of those who bestow alms
upon them. They are held in the highest veneration, and
are relieved from all bodily labour. The manufactures of
the Siamese are few and unimportant. In the useful arts
they are much behind several of the other eastern nations.
In the manufacture of gold and silver vessels they display
considerable skill; and the copper and iron founders are
said to be ingenious workmen. The cotton stuffs which
form the ordinary dresses of the people are chiefly imported
from other countries ; but there is a silk stuff worn only by
persons in high rank and manufactured in Siam, which the
Siamese boast has never been successfully imitated else¬
where. Earthenware of a coarse quality is produced by
native manufacturers, and paper is made from the bark of
a tree or plant called khri. The preparation of leather is
extensively carried on.
Bangkok, the capital of Siam, was at one time the third
in point of importance among the commercial cities east of
the Cape of Good Hope, being inferior only to Calcutta
and Canton. A long period of bad legislation, however,
totally stripped it of its importance, and when visited by
Sir John Bowring in 1855, “all that remained to I'epre-
sent foreign trade was one English (half-caste) merchant,
one Armenian, and a few Anglo-Indians from Bombay and
Surat.” Since the treaties with England and the United
States the trade has rapidly increased, and a writer in
Hunt’s Merchant’s Magazine, who was there in May 18o8,
states that at that time there were “ sixty-five large
American and European ships at the city and in the roads.
An increased demand for the productions of the country
has given a stimulus to exertion, and already an increase
in the produce of various articles has taken place. Rice
, and sugar are at present the staple articles of export; but
gums, sapan wood, teak wood, gamboge, pepper, cocoa-nut
oil, ivory, silk, cotton, and skins are also exported. A
considerable trade is carried on with China.
The Siamese average about 5 feet 3 inches in height.
The face is broad and flat, with large and prominent
cheek-bones ; the nose small but round not flattened as in
the negro, and the nostrils distended; the mouth wide,
with thick but not projecting lips; and the eyes small,
with outer angles slightly turned up. Iheir skin is fairer
than that of other Asiatics beyond the Ganges; and among
the higher classes a bright yellow colour, almost like gold,
is imparted to it by the use of a cosmetic. Their hair is
black, thick, coarse, and long; and they dye their teeth
black. In character the Siamese are idle, timid, and almost
passionless; servile, fond of amusements, and mercenary.
Lying and deceit is common to them with other oriental
nations. The Siamese annals begin about five centuries
before the Christian era, with the usual amount of fable;
SIB
but from tne founding of the city of Ayuthia, the ancient Siberia
capital of the kingdom, about the middle of the fourteenth ||
century, they seem to be tolerably reliable. (See Bow- Sibyls.
ring’s Siam.) The first European nation that established Vs—
communication with Siam was the Portuguese, when en¬
gaged in the siege of Malacca in 1511. Soon after this a
considerable number of Portuguese seem to have been
located in the country, and we find them rendering valuable
assistance to the Siamese in their wars with the neighbour-
’ing nations. About the beginning of the seventeenth
century the Dutch obtained a footing in the country, and
from that time Portuguese influence gradually declined.
Towards the end of the seventeenth century, a Greek
sailor named Phaulcon arrived in the country, and so in¬
gratiated himself with the king as to be appointed prime
minister. He persuaded the king to cultivate friendship
wdth European countries, and induced him to send ambas¬
sadors to the Court of Louis XIV. These arrived in
France in 1684, and also visited London, when a com¬
mercial treaty was concluded with the government of
Charles II. The French king, in 1685, despatched an
embassy to Siam, with a view to convert the King of Siam
to the Catholic faith. This not succeeding, two years later
a second embassy was sent out with 500 soldiers, which
also failed in its object; and soon after a revolution happen¬
ing in the country, the royal family were driven from the
throne, Phaulcon was murdered, and the French were
expelled from the country. About 1766 the country was
overrun by the Burmese, who took by assault the capital,
Yuthia, and committed great slaughter.
The English seem to have had little intercourse with the
Siamese till very recently. In 1822 Mr John Crawfurd
was commissioned by the Marquis of Hastings, then
governor-general of India, to visit Siam and endeavour to
establish commercial relations between that country and
India, but met with comparatively little success. In 1826
a commercial treaty was concluded with England, and a
similar treaty was concluded with the United States in
1833. In 1855 Sir John Bowring visited Siam, was very
favourably received, and succeeded in concluding a treaty
of friendship and commerce between her British Majesty
and the King of Siam. A British consul is now allowed
to reside at Bangkok, and British subjects may reside per¬
manently there or within a certain distance from that town.
British vessels may trade freely at any of the seaports of
Siam, and in place of the previous heavy restrictions, mer¬
chandise is now subject to slight import or export duties.
A similar treaty has since been concluded with the United
States. For farther information regarding Siam and the
Siamese see especially Sir John Bowring’s Kingdom and
People of Siam, London, 1857.
SIBERIA. See Russia, Asiatic.
SIBYLS (Xif^vXXa, Sibylla, said to be derived from
Aids and fovXr/, signifying the counsel of Zeus), in pagan
antiquity, certain women said to have been endowed with
a prophetical spirit, and who delivered oracles, showing the
fates and revolutions of kingdoms. Their number is un¬
known. Plato speaks of one, others of two, Pliny of three,
JElian of four, and Varro of ten; an opinion which is uni¬
versally adopted by the learned. These ten Sibyls gene¬
rally resided in the following places: Persia, Lybia, Delphi,
Cumae in Italy, Erythraea, Samos, Cumae in ASolia, Mar-
pessa on the Hellespont, Ancyra in Phrygia, and Tyburtis.
The most celebrated of the Sibyls is that of Cumae in Italy,
whom some have called by the different names of Amal-
thaea, Demophile, Herophile, Daphine, Manto, Phemonoe,
and Deiphobe. It is said that Apollo became enamoured
of her, and that to make her sensible of his passion he
offered to give her whatever she asked. The Sibyl de¬
manded to live as many years as she had grains of sand in
her hand, but unfortunately forgot to ask for the enjoyment
SIC
Sicilies, of the health, vigour, and bloom of which she was then in
possession. She had already lived about 700 years when
./Eneas came to Italy, and, as some have imagined, she had
three centuries more to live before her years were as
numerous as the grains of sand which she had had in her
hand. She gave iEneas instructions how to find his father
in the infernal regions, and even conducted him to the
entrance of hell. According to the most authentic his¬
torians of the Roman republic, one of the Sibyls came to
the palace of Tarquin II. with nine volumes, which she
offered to sell for a very high price (Pliny iV. //., xiii. 28).
The monarch disregarded her, and she immediately dis¬
appeared, but soon af terwards returned, when she had burned
three of the volumes. She asked the same price for the
remaining six books; and, when Tarquin refused to buy
them, she burned three more, and still persisted in demand¬
ing the same sum of money for the three that were left.
This extraordinary behaviour astonished Tarquin; he
bought the books, and the Sibyl instantly vanished, and
never afterwards appeared to the world. These books
SIC 235
were preserved with great care by the monarch, and called Sicard
the Sibylline verses. A college of priests was appointed II
to take care of them ; and such reverence did the Romans Sicibes-
entertain for these prophetical books, that they were con-
suited with the greatest solemnity when the state seemed
to be in danger. When the capitol was burned in the
troubles of Sylla, the Sibylline verses, which were deposited
there, perished in the conflagration; and to repair the loss
which the republic seemed to have sustained, commissioners
were immediately sent to different parts of Greece to col¬
lect whatever verses could be found of the inspired writings
of the Sibyls. The fate of these Sibylline verses, which
were collected after the conflagration of the capitol, is un¬
known. 1 here are now many Sibylline verses extant, but
they are universally reckoned spurious; and it is evident
that they were composed in the second century by some of
the followers of Christianity, who wished to convince the
heathens of their error, by assisting the cause of truth with
the arms of pious artifice.
SICARD, Abbe. See Deaf and Dumb.
SICILIES, KINGDOM OF THE TWO.
The whole of this kingdom, denominated in Italian the
Regno delle Rue Sicilie, has an area of 32,530 geogra¬
phical square miles, and a population, in January 1855,
of 9,088,377 inhabitants. It extends in N. Lat. from
36. 38. to 42. 55., and in E. Long, from 12. 25. to
18. 30. Some of the smaller islands, however, extend far
beyond these limits. It is bounded on every side by the
sea, except on the N.W., where it comes into contact with
the Papal States. Being situated on both sides of the
Straits of Messina, it is naturally divided into two por¬
tions, which are distinguished by the official appellation,
Naples, or the continental part, of Domini al di qua del
Faro ; and Sicily, or the island part, of Domini al di Id
del Faro.
1 he continental part, or Domini al di qua del Faro,
called also Regno di Napoli, comprises the southern and
most beautiful half of the Italian Peninsula. It forms the
ankle, spur, heel, and foot of the boot [lo Stivale) to which
the configuration of Italy is often compared. It extends
in N. Lat. from 37. 55. to 42. 55, and in East Long, from
13.15 to 18.30., and has an area of24,971 geographical square
miles, and a population (in January 1855) of 6,857,357
inhabitants. It is bounded on the N.W. by the States
of the Pope, on the W., as far down as the Straits of Mes¬
sina, by the Tyrrhenian, on the S.E. from the Straits to
the Cape of Leuca, by the Ionian, and on the N.E. by the
Adriatic Sea. The frontier line on the N.W., nearly the
same as it was at the foundation of the monarchy in 1130,
is, with its windings, about 185 miles, and in a direct line
105 miles long. It extends from the north bank of the
river J ronto, on the Adriatic, across the chain of the Apen¬
nines, to the small stream of San Magno near Portella, on
the Tyrrhenian Sea, 2 miles east of Terracina.
The length of the kingdom from the Tronto to the Capo
dell Armi, following the curved line of the Apennines, is
350 miles; and its greatest breadth from the Punta della
ampanella, opposite the Island of Capri, to Brindisi, on
the Adriatic, from W. to E., is about 200 miles. South
of that line it becomes very narrow; from the mouth of the
Crati, on the Ionian, to Cirella, on the Tyrrhenian Sea, it is
not more than 29 miles; and only 16 miles between the
gulfs of Sta. Eufemia and Squillace, farther south.
The physical geography of the country is chiefly deter¬
mined by the chain of the Apennines, which, by their nu¬
merous ranges, offshoots, and valleys, cover most of its sur¬
face, and greatly contribute to its variety *nd picturesque
beauty. These mountains, which have already been de¬
scribed in this work under head Italy, on entering the
kingdom on the N.W. from the papal territory, branch into
two lofty ranges, one of which, keeping so near the Adriatic
as to leave only a narrow strip of lowland along the shore,
attains the greatest elevation of the whole chain in Monte
Corno, called also the Gran Sasso dTtalia, 10,154 English
feet, and Monte Amaro, the highest peak of the Maiella
group, 8956 feet above the level of the sea. The western
range, sweeping round the sources of the Aterno, forms the
high peaks of Monte Velino, 7780 feet, and Monte Greco,
7875 feet, and unites again with the other in the high table¬
land of the Piano di Cinquemiglia, whence the main chain
keeps more in the centre of the Peninsula, and at La Meta
swells to an elevation of 7480 feet. From this point the
main chain, in its progress southwards, keeps constantly in
the centre of the Peninsula, but scatters in a confused and
irregular mass over a great tract of country, and sends im¬
portant offshoots east and west, till it forms the lofty central
group of the Terminio, in Lat. 41 and Long. 15.25. The
Terminio is at once the boundary of the provinces of Prin-
cipato Ultra, Principato Citra and Capitanata, and the
watershed whence four of the most important rivers in the
kingdom—the Sele, the Galore, the Sabato, and the Ofanto
—begin their course. The highest peaks of this part of the
chain are Monte Mileto, in the Matese group, 6745 feet,
and the Terminio itself, 5680 feet.
From the Terminio the Apennines take an eastern direc¬
tion, and form the lofty group between Rionero and Po-
tenza, which divides the basin of the Ofanto from those
of the Bradano and the Basento, and from near Lagopesole
send south-east an offshoot, which encloses the Apulian plain,
and gradually diminishing in height, ends at the Cape of
Sta. Maria di Leuca. From Potenza they take a southern
course, and approaching the Tyrrhenian Sea at the head of
the Gulf of Policastro, swell into the high table-land of Cam-
potanese, and the lofty group of the Pollino, which in Dol-
cedorme, its highest peak, attains an elevation of 6875 feet.
From that group the chain, scarcely receding from the
sea-shore, rises at Monte Cocuzzo to 5620 feet, forms the
high table-land of La Sila, and sinks abruptly south of
Tiriolo to such an insignificant elevation between the Gulfs
of Squillace and Sta. Eufemia, as to have often suggested the
idea of a canal across the low neck of land that separates
them. Immediately to the south of that neck the moun¬
tains rise again, and form the lofty group of the Aspro-
SICILIES.
236
Sicilies, monte, which in Montalto, its highest peak at the toe of
Italy, attains an elevation of 4380 feet.
Totally detached from the chain ot the Apennines, from
whose nearest slopes it is separated by an extensive plain,
called the Tavoliere di Puglia, rises the isolated group of
Monte Gargano (Garganus), a lofty promontory, boldly
proiectino- east for the length of 35 miles into the Adriatic,
between the mouth of the Fortore on the north-west and
the Gulf of Manfredonia on the south-east. Its highest
peak attains an elevation of 5120 feet above the level of
the^sea Apenn}neSj ag wep as the Gargano, which belongs
to the same geological formation, consist chiefly of lime¬
stone ; primary rocks crop out, but to no great extent, in
the Maiella group, among the mountains of Montecorvino,
in the Pollino, &c. The group of the Aspromonte, how¬
ever, is chiefly a granite mass, and in its geological cha¬
racter is more like the Madonia Mountains on the opposite
coast of Sicily than like the Apennines.
Enclosed or in part surrounded by the Apennines, but
totally distinct from them both in their geological formation
and physical character, are the volcanic districts of Campania
and Apulia. The former consists of the three groups of
Roccamonfina, the Flegraean Fields, and Vesuvius; the
latter of Mount Vulture.
The volcanic hills of Roccamonfina rise 4 miles north¬
east of the towns of Sessa and Teano, nearly midway be¬
tween the Volturno and the Garigliano. The outer edge
or circular ridge of their great crater encloses a space of
9 miles in circumference, within which are two smaller
cones, the highest of which, called Montagna di Sta. Croce,
is 3200 feet above the level of the sea. The lavas of Roc¬
camonfina are easily distinguished by their colour, and then-
large crystals of leucite. The volcanic tufa, which is found
in large'deposits along the banks of the Garigliano and the
Volturno, and in some of the lower valleys of the Apen¬
nines on the frontier of Terra di Lavoro, is supposed to
have been emitted by this volcano. Roccamonfina has
shown no signs of activity in historical times.
The Flegraean Fields comprise the country between the
banks of the Lagno and the Sebeto, as well as the adjoining
islands of Nisida, Procida, and Ischia. They contain nume¬
rous large and small craters, and several cones, the highest
of which are—Monte San Nicola (Epomeus) in Ischia, 2610
feet; Monte Barbaro {Gaurus), 1860 feet; and Camaldoli,
1488 feet. Monte Barbaro, composed of beds of loose
scoriae and pumiceous tufa, has a deep crater of 3J miles
in circumference, enclosing a plain of great fertility, which
is entered by a break on the east wall of the crater. A
larger crater is that of the Astroni, which is 4| miles in
circumference, and quite unbroken. Its interior is covered
with large ilexes and oaks. The Flegraean Fields, in which
are the Fusaro, Lucrino, Averno, and Agnano lakes, have
been active in historical times. From the south-east wall
of the Solfatara crater, midway between Pozzuoli and the
Lake of Agnano, a stream of lava poured forth in 1198,
which crossed the ancient Via Puteolana, and reached the
sea. Even at present, from the crevices within the Solfa¬
tara, steam and noxious gases constantly exhale, and flames
are occasionally seen at night. From the flanks of Mount
Epomeo, in Ischia, a stream of lava containing a large
quantity of felspar, issued in 1302, and descended to the
shore, 2 miles off. And in 1538, after a succession of vio¬
lent earthquakes, on the 28th, 29th, and 30th of September,
the country round Pozzuoli was convulsed by eruptions of
steam, pumiceous ashes, lapilli, scoriae, and black mud,
which elevated the whole coast from Miseno to Cape
Coroglio, and raised, 1J mile west of Pozzuoli, a conical
hill called Monte Nuovo, 440 feet high and 1| mile in
circumference, on the spot where the village of Tripergola
and part of Lake Lucrino stood. The tufa hills, on the
slopes of which the city of Naples is built, belong to the Sicilies.
Flegraean group.
Mount Vesuvius, one of the most active volcanoes in
the world, an account of which will be found in this work
under head Vesuvius, rises to the east of Naples, be¬
tween the shore of the bay, on the south, and the Apen¬
nines, on the north and east. It is 30 miles in circumfer¬
ence, and at a certain height divides into two points ; the
Somma, whose highest peak, the Punta del Nasone, is 3747
feet above the level of the sea, and Vesuvius proper, which,
at the Punta del Palo, on the north brim of the crater,
attains an elevation of 3949 feet. The height of the erup¬
tive cone is subject to great variations; in March 1850 it
was 4235 ; and in June 1858 it had been lowered to 4075
feet. At the commencement of the Christian era Vesu¬
vius was considered as an extinct volcano, and no records
existed of its having burned in historical times. But under
the reign of Titus, in a.d. 79, on the 24th of August, after
a succession of earthquakes, which had begun some years
before, a tremendous explosion took place, which is me¬
morable as the eruption that destroyed Herculaneum,
Pompeii, Stabiae, and several smaller villages on the slopes
of the mountain, and caused the death of Pliny the na¬
turalist, whose nephew, Pliny the younger, has left us an
interesting account of the event. Since that time Vesu¬
vius has not ceased to be more or less active, and till 1858
more than fifty-six great eruptions, not to count smaller
ones, had taken place, of which there are historical re¬
cords.
Mount Vulture rises at the west end of the Apulian
plain, on the frontier of Basilicata, out of the cretaceous
macigno formation of the Apennines, which surround it
almost on every side. It has shown no activity in histo¬
rical times; and the absence of streams of lava, coupled
with the beds of travertine resting in several places on the
volcanic formation, prove its very great antiquity. Its
inner regions are clothed with forests, and within its widest
crater there are two small lakes. It has several cones, but
the central and highest peak, called II Pizzuto di Melfi,
attains an elevation of 4357 feet above the level of the
sea.
The surface and physical character of the provinces vary
very much. The three provinces of the Abruzzi and the
adjoining province of Molise, are almost entirely covered
by mountains, and high table-lands and valleys, which give
them a pastoral more than an agricultural character. Some
of the valleys are of great fertility, especially the beautiful
valley of Sulmona, watered by the Gizio and the Sagittario;
but in general they have a cold climate, and southern plants
do not thrive well. Between the valley of Sulmona to
the north, and the valley of the Sangro to the south is the
Piano di Cinquemiglia, a high table-land about 4300 feet
above the level of the sea, and surrounded by higher
mountains, which enjoys the privilege of being the most
wintry spot in Italy. The high road from Naples to the
Abruzzi is carried through it; but the sudden snowstorms
and strong winds to which the table-land is exposed make
it dangerous, and often impassable in winter, and some¬
times even late in the spring. On its southern end is Roc-
carasa, the most elevated village in Italy, being 4370 feet
above the level of the sea. To the east, along the shore of
the Adriatic, there is a plain extending from the slopes of
the Apennines to the sea, varying from 1 to 13 miles in
breadth. This strip of lowland has a mild temperature,
favourable to the growth of the olive-tree, [and, in some
more sheltered situations, even of the orange.
The province of Terra di Lavoro is covered to the east
by the lofty groups of the Mainardi, the Matese, and the
Taburno, part of the main chain of the Apennines; to the
north-west by an offshoot, which descends to the sea be¬
tween Terracina and Gaeta; and that of Naples to the
SICILIES.
Vcilies. south-east has a lofty offshoot, which forms the mountains
M j 0f La Cava Castellammare and Sorrento, and enclosing
the Bay of Naples to the east, ends opposite the island ot
Capri. Within those boundaries is the great Campanian
plain, celebrated in ancient as well as in modern times for
its inexhaustible fertility. Strabo calls it the richest plain in
the world. Its uniformity is broken by the two volcanic
groups of the Flegraean Fields and Mount Vesuvius. It
has a volcanic soil, but near the foot of the mountains it
is covered by a detritus of gravel, washed down by the
heavy rains. The small state of Pontecorvo, belonging to
the Pope, is inclosed in the Terra di Lavoro.
Principato Ultra is traversed by the range of the Apen¬
nines, which, with their offshoots, cover most of its surface.
The large valley, in the midst of which the city of Avel-
lino, the capital, is situated, is of considerable fertility ; but
as a whole it is a poor district. In the heart of this pro¬
vince is Benevento, the capital of a territory of 45 square
miles belonging to the Pope. Napoleon conferred it on
Talleyrand, but the Congress of Vienna restored it to the
Holy See.
In Principato Citra, on the south-west, bordering the Gulf
of Salerno, is a vast plain, 28 miles long, and from 2 to 12
miles broad. It is surrounded by the Apennines on all
sides, except on the west, where it is bounded by the sea.
To the east is the great mass of the classic Alburno {Al-
burnus), the lower buttresses of which are washed by the
Sele. Four miles from the left bank of this river towards
the south end of the plain, are the ruins of Paestum,
already described in this work. The plain is at present
little cultivated, and visited by malaria. The surface of
the rest of the province is of a mountainous character.
Basilicata is in great part covered by the main range
and numerous offshoots of the Apennines, except on the
south-east, where a large and rich tract of flat country
extends from the foot of the mountains to the Gulf of
Taranto. This plain is watered by the Bradano and the
Basento, and though at present in great part a waste, in
ancient times it was the source of the wealth and prosperity
of Metapontum. To the south-west there is a smaller plain,
on the Gulf of Policastro, near the site of ancient Velia.
The centre of Basilicata is the wildest, least civilized, and
poorest district in the kingdom.
Nearly two-thirds of the area of the three provinces into
which Calabria is divided are also of a mountainous cha¬
racter, especially on the western side. On the eastern
shore there is a large extent of low country, a continuation
of the great plain of Basilicata, watered by numerous streams,
and possessing great fertility and a very mild temperature.
Sybaris, Thurium, Croto, and other cities of Magna Graecia,
flourished on this plain, which now is in great part deserted.
In the heart of Calabria there is a vast mountain table-land
called La Sila (Sila), about 40 miles long and from 16 to
20 miles broad, which extends through the greatest part of
Calabria Citra and enters Calabria Ultra II. Its highest
peaks are clothed with magnificent firs (Pinus silvestris),
and the lower ones with oak, beeches, and elms. It is in¬
tersected by numerous ravines, and well watered by several
streams, which give it excellent pasturages in summer.
The forests of La Sila were well known to the ancients, and
to this day supply the greatest amount of timber to the
royal navy of Naples. The Piana di Monteleone, and the
plain of Gioia, on the west shore of Calabria Ultra I., offer
extensive tracts of rich lowland, covered chiefly with olives,
oranges, and other trees of southern climates.
Capitanata, Terra di Bari, and Terra d’Otranto, which
are known by the general denomination of Puglia (Apulia),
are almost an unbroken level country, stretching from the
slopes of the Apennines to the shores of the Adriatic and
the Ionian Sea. The northern part of Puglia, called Puglia
Piana, forming the province of Capitanata, and extending
237
from the Tiferno to the Ofanto River, consists of a great Sicilies,
plain called the Tavoliere di Puglia which slopes gently
from the mountains to the sea, where it is bounded by the
isolated group of Mount Gargano. The Tavoliere, which
is about 80 miles long and 30 miles broad, belongs almost
entirely to the crown, and is chiefly laid out in pasture.
Its surface is covered with wild capers, and the only trees
to be seen are, here and there, some wild pears. From
October to May it is enlivened by about 2,500,000 sheep,
which descend from the mountains of the Abruzzi and
Molise, where they pass the summer months.
The south part of Puglia, called Puglia Pietrosa, and
including Terra di Bari and Terra d’Otranto, has, on the
south-west, a chain of low rocky hills, called Le Murgie (an
offshoot of the Apennines, from which they branch off' near
Venosa), which divide it from Basilicata, and gradually
sink into insignificance as they descend south-east to the
Cape of Sta. Maria di Leuca. The flat country continues
between the Murgie and the sea for more than 56 miles
from the Ofanto to Monopoli, where the Murgie come so
near the Adriatic as to leave only a narrow strip of low¬
land till near San Vito, whence to the Cape of Leuca it
is but an undulating plain, with some rising ground in the
centre. On the Gulf of Taranto the surface of Terra
d’Otranto is also generally flat, and joins the plain of Basi¬
licata near the banks of the Bradano.
The Neapolitan rivers, owing to the absence of tides,
have no harbours of any use at their mouths, except for
small boats; but they greatly contribute to the fertility of
the country, and would do more so if, instead of letting
them, by their overflowing, flood the country and pro¬
duce marshy plains and malaria, the natural advantages
they offer for a vast system of embanking and irrigation
were properly turned to account. The most important of
them are—
On the western coast, the Liri or Garigliano (Liris),
which drains the valleys west of Lake Fucino, and an
extensive district of the Papal States. It rises in seve¬
ral distinct springs from the side of a conical hill, below
the village of Cappadocia, in the midst ot a most wild
and picturesque scenery, in the Abruzzo Ultra II. It
flows at first in a south-east direction through the alpine
valleys of Nerfa and Roveto, receiving several small
mountain-streams, till it emerges into the open country,
at Sora, where it takes a turn to the south-west, and forms
a series of small cascades (le Cascatelle), below the Insula
Fibreni of Cicero. On being joined by the Fibreno
(Fibrenus), a small clear stream which issues from the Lake
of Posta, it forms, 4 miles below Sora, the Falls of Isola,
about 100 feet high, one of the most remarkable waterfalls
in Italy. Below Isola the Liri again bends its course to
the south-east, and soon after passing Ceprano receives the
Sacco or Tolero (Trerus), its most considerable tribu¬
tary, the sources of which are 40 miles higher up, in the
elevated district between the Palestrina and the Lepini
mountains. After this junction it takes the name of
Garigliano, and on receiving, 5 miles lower down, the waters
of the Melfa (Melfis), which rises in the flanks of the
Meta, it resumes abruptly a south-west direction, and after
a course of 60 geographical miles, enters the sea near the
site of ancient Minturnce, in the Bay of Gaeta. In the
lower part of its course it is navigable for boats ; and near
its mouth it has a suspension-bridge, over which the high
road from Rome to Naples is carried.
The Volturno (Vulturnus), which drains great part of
ancient Campania and Samnium, rises among the Samnitic
Apennines 5 miles south of Alfidena, and emerging into
the Campanian plain below Venafro, follows a south-east
course till it is joined by the Galore. Turning thence to
the west-south-west, it flows round the walls of Capua
(the ancient Casilinum), and after a course of 100 miles,
238 SICILIES.
Sicilies, falls into the sea 20 miles below that city, near the village
of Castel Volturno, midway between the mouth of the Gari-
gliano and the site of ancient Cumce. It is a deep, rapid,
and turbid stream, and subject to sudden and great over¬
flowings of its banks.
The Galore [Calor) rises in the group of the Terminio,
and flowing first north and then west, after a course of 60
miles, unites with the Volturno near Caiazzo. Its two prin¬
cipal tributaries are the Tamaro (Tamar us), which rises
near Boiano, in the province of Molise, and joins the Galore
5 miles above Benevento; and the Sabato (Sabatus), which
also rises in the group of the Terminio, and taking a
difterent course, unites eventually with the Galore, just
below Benevento.
The Sarno (Sarnus), which drains the plain east of
Vesuvius, springs as a clear and abundant stream from a
perpendicular rock behind the town of the same name,
and after a course of about 20 miles, falls into the Bay
of Naples, 3 miles north of Castellammare. In ancient
times it flowed under the walls of Pompeii, and entered
the sea close to its gates. The great eruption of Vesuvius
of a.d. 79, by filling up an arm of the sea, changed the
course of the Sarno, whose mouth at present is two miles
from Pompeii.
The Sele (Silarus) drains the province of Principato
Citra, and has a course of 64 miles. It rises near the town
of Caposele, in the group of the Terminio, not far from the
sources of the Ofanto, and flows south till it receives the
Tanagro (Tanager), a considerable stream which rises in
the mountains of Lagonegro, drains the broad valley of
Diano, and after a course of 30 miles, unites with the Sele,
north of Mount Alburno. The Sele takes thence a south¬
west direction, skirts the north-west basis of the latter
mountain, traverses the plain of Paestum, where it receives
the Galore, which rises among the mountains of the Cilento,
and falls into the Bay of Salerno, 5 miles north of the site
of Paestum.
From the mouth of the Sele to the Straits of Messina,
the range of the Apennines coming too near the Tyrr¬
henian shore, there are no rivers, but numerous mountain-
torrents, each draining its own valley, and often dry in
summer. The most important of these streams are, pro¬
ceeding from north to south, the Alento, the Molpa
(Melpes), the Mingardo, the Basento, the Lao (Laus),
which fall into the Gulf of Policastro, the Savuto (Ocin-
arus), and the Lamato into the Gulf of Sta. Eufemia; and
the Mesima and Marro (Metaurus), which drain the plain
of Gioia and the Piana di Monteleone, and fall into the
Gulf of Gioia.
The principal rivers that flow into the Adriatic are—
the Tronto (Truentus), which divides Naples from the
States of the Pope, and drains both frontiers. It rises
among the mountains of Amatrice, and is navigable for
boats only a few miles above its mouth. The Tordino,
the sources of which are near those of the Tronto, and the
Vomano (Vomanus), which rises in the lofty group of the
Gran Sasso, empty themselves at a short distance from
each other. The Pescara, which in the upper part of its
course preserves its ancient name of Aternus, drains the
whole valleys of Aquila and Sulmona, and the south-west
slopes of the Gran Sasso. It rises near S. Vittorino, in the
Abruzzo Ultra II., and flows south-east through a broad
elevated valley more than 2000 feet high, from which it
escapes into the lower valley of Sulmona, by a narrow gorge
in the mountains, through which the ancient Via Valeria
was carried. At Popoli the Aterno unites with the Gizio
and the Sagittario, which descend from the Maiella group
and drain the valley of Sulmona, and taking the name of
Pescara and a north-east course, falls into the sea at the
fortress of that name.
The Sangro (Sagrus) rises in the group of mountains
that enclose the basin of Lake Fucinus on the south-west, Sicilies
and follows a south-east direction through an upland valley v
shut in on the north by the lofty Monte Greco. From this
upper basin it emerges through a narrow gorge into a
lower valley, passes under Castel di Sangro, and turning
abruptly to the north-east, after a course of more than 70
miles, falls into the sea midway between Ortona and Vasto.
The Trigno (Trinius), which has a course of nearly 60
miles from west-south-west to east-north-east, rises among
the mountains of Agnone, and falls into the sea 7 miles
south of Vasto. The Biferno (Tifernus) rises near Boiano,
on the north slope of the lofty group of the Matese, and
after a course of more than 60 miles from south-south¬
west to east-north-east, falls into the sea 4 miles south of
Termoli. The Fortore (Frento), about 50 miles long, has
its sources in the mountains of La Riccia and Baselice,
and its mouth north of the Lake of Lesina, in Capitanata,
opposite the group of the Tremiti Islands. The Cervaro
(Cerbalus) and the Carapella have their sources at a short
distance in the mountains of Ariano and Trivico, traverse
parallel to each other the Apulian plain, and fall, the
former into the Pantano Salso, and the latter into the sea,
south of Manfredonia. The Ofanto (Aujidus), the largest
of the rivers of this part of Italy, rises in the lofty group
of the Terminio, about 24 miles from the Tyrrhenian Sea,
and after a course of more than 80 miles, discharges itself
into the Adriatic, 6 miles north of the city of Barletta.
At first it flows south-east, but, checked in its course
by the volcanic group of Mount Vulture, by a sudden turn
north-west, sweeps round the foot of that mountain, and
emerging into the Apulian plain, traverses it from south-
south-west to east-north-east, as far as the sea, passing a
mile below Canosa, and by the site of ancient Cannce.
From the mouth of the Ofanto to that of the Bradano,
a coast line of nearly 300 geographical miles, there are no
rivers, and scarcely any torrents which are not dried up in
summer.
The Bradano {Bradanus), which separates the provinces
of Basilicata and Terra d’Otranto, issues out of the small
Lake of Pesole, 5 miles south-east of Atella, and draining
an extensive hilly tract of Basilicata, falls into the Ionian
Sea north of the site of ancient Metapontum. The
Basento (Casuentus), the sources of which are near those
of the Bradano, the Salandrella (Acalandrus ?) the Agri
(Aciris), and the Sinno (Siris), all rise on the east flank
of the Apennines in their progress from Potenza towards
the Gulf of Policastro, and flowing nearly parallel to each
other from north-west to south-east, especially in the latter
part of their course, discharge themselves at a short dis¬
tance of each other into the Gulf of Taranto.
The Crati (Crathis), the largest river of Calabria, rises
in the table-land of La Sila, a few miles south of Gosenza,
under the walls of which it flows, and after a course of 64
miles, discharges itself into the Gulf of Taranto, mid¬
way between Capo Spulico and Capo del Trionto, to the
south of some ruins which mark the site of Thurii. At
first it flows due north, but after its junction with the
Mucrone, which drains the western Sila, it turns abruptly
to the north-east, and finally due east till it falls into the
sea. Three miles above its mouth it receives the waters
of its principal tributary, the Coscile (Sybaris), a consider¬
able stream that rises in a wooded dell below the west
flanks of the Pollino, and drains the north frontier of Cala¬
bria. In ancient times the Sybaris had a separate outlet
into the sea. South of the Crati, the Neto (Necethus), re¬
markable for the rich pastures of its banks, is the only
other stream of any consequence as far as the Straits of
Messina. It rises in the east flank of the Sila, and falls into
the Ionian Sea 9 miles north of Cotrone.
The Lake Fucino (Fucinus), called also Lake of Celano^
from the city of that name on its north-east shore, is the
Sicilies-
—r-'
SICILIES.
239
largest lake of the kingdom. It is embosomed in the high
Apennines of the Abruzzo Ultra II., at an elevation of
2230 feet above the level of the sea, and has a circum¬
ference of 35 miles, and an area of 36,315 acres. Its
deepest part in 1853 was 53 feet, but it is subject to great
rises and falls. Its shores are often frozen in winter, but
the lake itself is known to have been frozen only five
times since the twelfth century. Numerous small streams
flow into it, but there is no visible outlet. The Romans
made several attempts to relieve the towns on the shores
from its destructive inundations, till at length the Emperor
Claudius caused an emissary to be constructed at his own
expense, on condition of getting from the Marsi the land
reclaimed by the drainage. To this effect a tunnel 3 miles
and 788 yards long was cut under Mount Salviano and the
Campi Palentini, partly through a solid calcareous rock,
and partly through a loose slaty marl, by means of which
the waters of the lake were conveyed into the Liris, at the
head of the valley of Roveto, below the modern village of
Capistrello. This tunnel was aired by numerous perpen¬
dicular shafts along its course. Having been choked up
during the middle ages, the Neapolitan government in 1826
undertook to repair it; but the works had little advanced
in 1852, when the government granted all the lands that
can be reclaimed by drainage to a company, who are now
carrying out the works, the estimate of which is set at
L.217,000.
The Lake of Scanno, situated among the mountains
that enclose the valley of Sulmona on the west, in the
Abruzzo Ultra II., is about 5 miles in circumference, and
one of the most sequestered and finest lakes in Italy; it
discharges its surplus water by means of the Sagittario,
a tributary of the Pescara. The Lake of Fondi {Lacus
Fundanus\ between the town of that name and the sea, in
the Terra di Lavoro, near the Papal frontier, is about 7
miles in circumference, but very shallow and marshy. The
small lakes of Matese and Telese are in the same province ;
the former, on the summit of the Matese mountains, is 3
miles in circuit, and well stocked with trout; the other, at
the south-west foot of the same group, is a pool, which
renders the neighbourhood unhealthy by the exhalation of
sulphuretted hydrogen.
In the district of Pozzuoli, near Naples, are several small
lakes which, with the exception of Patria and Licola, are evi¬
dently of volcanic origin. The Lake of Patria {Literna
Pains), a lagoon near the shore, 7 miles south of the mouth
of the Volturno, is formed by the Lagno (Clanius), a slug¬
gish stream which rises near Avella, and drains part of the
Campanian plain. On its shore was Liternum, where
Scipio Africanus had a villa in which he died in voluntary
exile 184 b.c., ordering that on his tomb should be in¬
scribed, Ingrata Patria, ne ossa quidem mea habes. The
name of Patria was derived from a fragment of this in¬
scription built into the walls of a martello tower, hence
called Torre di Patria. On the same shore, a few miles
south, is Licola, a small marshy lake, supposed to have
originated with a canal begun by Nero to connect Lake
Avernus and the Tiber.
The Lake Fusaro {Acherusia Palos') between Cape
Miseno and the site of Cumce, of which it was once the
port, is supposed to be the crater of an extinct volcano.
A sandy bar separates it from the sea, with which it commu¬
nicates by a canal. It has brackish water, and is now famous
for its oysters. Two miles from the Fusaro, at the bottom
of the Bay of Raise, is the Lucrino (Lucrinus), now a
narrow marsh filled with reeds, and protected from the
encroachments of the sea by a dyke of remote antiquity.
Formerly it was larger and deeper, and supplied the Roman
epicures with oysters and mussels—
“ Murice Baiano melior Lucrina peloris,
Ostrca CircaeLs,”—Hok. Sat. ii. iv, 32,
But the volcanic eruption of September 1538 filled up one Sicilies,
half of it by the formation of Monte Nuovo. About half
a mile from the Lucrino, and west of Monte Nuovo, is
Lake Averno {Avernus), 1| miles in circumference, 4 feet
above the level of the sea, and about 250 deep. It is
clearly the crater of an extinct volcano, and is embosomed
among steep hills of volcanic tufa on all sides except the
south, where it communicated formerly with the Lucrino
by a canal cut by Agrippa, who converted the two lakes
into a port {Portus jidius) for a portion of the Roman
fleet, which gave in it a repi’esentation of the naval battle
of Actium, in the presence of Augustus. This canal was
also filled up by the eruption of Monte Nuovo, but since
1857 the government has begun to re-open it with a view
of converting Lake Averno into a great wTet-dock, in
which part of the royal navy might be safe from an attack.
The poisonous qualities ascribed to Lake Avernus no
longer exist.
“ Quam super baud ullae poterant impune volantes
Tendere iter pennis. Talis sese halitus atris
Faucibus efFundens, supera ad convexa ferebat:
Upde locum Graii dixerunt nomine Avornum.”
—Virg. u3?n. vi. 239.
Water-fowl are seen upon it in winter, and its fresh waters,
in which men bathe with impunity, are well stocked with
tench and other fish. On its shores there are several re¬
mains, the most interesting of which are—on the east side, a
large ruin, octangular externally and circular within, more
than 100 feet in diameter, and called the Temple of Apollo,
but supposed to have been a Hall of Baths; on the
south side, a tunnel called the Cave of the Sibyl {Grotta
della Sibilla), cut through the tufa cliffs, probably by
Cocceius under Agrippa’s orders, to open a shorter and
covered communication between the Lucrino and the
Averno.
The Lake of Agnano, 2 miles north-east of Pozzuoli, is
3£ miles in circumference, and enclosed by volcanic hills.
It is a source of malaria to the surrounding district, espe¬
cially in summer, when large quantities of hemp are
steeped in its waters. As neither the lake, nor the crater
in which it is placed are mentioned by any of the Roman
authors, it is thence inferred that they must have been
formed by some volcanic changes during the dark ages.
On the south-east bank of the lake is the celebrated Grotta
del Cane, so well described by Addison, who visited it in
the beginning of the last century. It is a small aperture
at the foot of the hill, resembling a cellar, from the floor
and sides of which there is constantly exhaling carbonic acid
gas, which from its greater specific gravity rises only to a
certain height, leaving the upper part of the cave free from
its effluvia. Addison found that a pistol could not go off at
the bottom of the cave, and that animal life of any kind
was extinct in a few minutes. The grotto has received its
name from experiments being generally practised upon dogs.
The lake, or rather pool, of Ansanto {Amsanctus)\$ worth
noticing merely for its celebrity,—
“ Est locus, Italise in medio sub montibus altis,
Nobilis, et fama multis numeratus in oris,
Amsancti valles.” VlRG. j3Zn. vii., 563.
It is placed in a deep crater-like valley, among limestone
hills, 2 miles S.E. of Frigento, in the province of Princi-
pata Ultra, and consists of two ponds, the largest of which
is only 160 feet in circuit, and 7 feet deep. The water is
dark and muddy, and from the carbonic acid gas and sul¬
phuretted hydrogen that is constantly escaping, it appears to
be in violent ebullition, though its temperature little exceeds
that of the surrounding atmosphere. Near it are seen bones
of birds, arrested on their wings in crossing the valley by
the noxious exhalations.
The Lake of Lesina, at the N.W. foot of Mount Gar-
gano, close to the right bank of the Fortorei the Lake of
240 S I C I
Sicilies. Varano, at the N. foot of the same mountain ; the Pantano
v'—Salso, close to the sea-shore, 3 miles S. of Manfredonia; and
Lake Salpi, 5 miles further S.E. along the coast, all in the
province of Capitanata, are the other lakes of any size. The
Lake Salpi {Palus Salapina), 11 miles long and 2 broad,
is of salt water, and has an artificial oatlet by a canal
through the low sandy bank that separates it from the sea.
On its western shore stood Salapia, an important city of
Apulia, of which the lake is supposed to have been the
port. The lakes of Posta, 4 miles E. of Sora, in the Terra
di Lavoro; Dragone, near Volturara, in Principato Ultra;
and Pesole, and Serino {Lacus Niger), in Basilicata, are so
small as to require no particular notice.
The Two Sicilies possess a larger extent of sea-coast than,
with the exception of Great Britain, any other country in
Europe. The most productive parts of the kingdom, as well
as the most densely inhabited, are near the coast; and in
surveying it the most interesting recollections of classical
history are revived. In the continental part there are 1134
miles of coast, of which 392 are washed by the Tyrrhenian,
374 by the Ionian, and 368 by the Adriatic Sea.
The whole Tyrrhenian coast is for the most part bold
and rocky, and though ill furnished with good harbours for
large vessels, has several projecting headlands, deep inden¬
tations, and capacious bays affording a good anchorage.
Of these bays the most northern is that of Gaeta (Sinus
Caietanus), shut in on the north by the projecting head¬
land on which the city and fortress of Gaeta are situated.
It is capacious, with good anchorage ground at a depth
of from 12 to 14 fathoms at the north-west end of the citadel.
Gaeta is the strongest fortress in the kingdom; in 1798 it
was disgracefully surrendered by the SwissGeneral Tschudy
to the French, who, in their turn, surrendered it to the Bour¬
bons in 1799. In 1806 it sustained a memorable siege,
well known from the operations of our navy in support of the
besieged against the French. Since 1848 its fortifications
have been so much extended and strengthened as to render
it one of the strongest places in Italy.
South and south-west of Gaeta, at a distance from 28 to
36 miles, are the small islands of Palmarola (Palmaria),
Ponza (Pontia), Zannone (Sinonia), Ventotene (Panda-
tarid), and San Stefano. They are all of volcanic origin,
except Zannone, which is of limestone, covered by trachyte.
Ponza, the largest, is 12 miles in circumference. At San
Stefano, the smallest, there is the Ergastolo, or prison for
life, for state as well as common criminals.
The next bay to the south is that of Naples, generally
considered as one of the most beautiful and interesting
in the world. The Greeks called it Crater, on account of
its form, a name still given to it by the local hydrographers.
At its entrance are the islands of Ischia and Procida to
the north-west, and the island of Capri to the south-east,
which are all described under their respective heads. Its
width from Ischia to Capri is 14 [miles, and its depth from
W. to E. 16 miles; its circuit from the Capo della Campa-
nella on the S.E., to the Capo di Miseno, on the N.W., is
more than 30 miles, and nearly 48 if the islands are in¬
cluded. The head of the bay washes the foot of Vesuvius.
On its west side, the low range of volcanic hills which end
in the promontory of Posilipo, form the two inner bays—
of Naples on the east, and of Pozzuoli on the west. The
latter includes the smaller sheltered Bay of Baiae, and is
bounded to the south-west by the Cape of Miseno. The
Bay of Baiae has a hilly and sterile coast of volcanic tufa,
and being subject to malaria, is nearly deserted. Yet in
ancient times all its shores were thickly inhabited, and
covered with towns and magnificent villas belonging to the
wealthy Romans, who preferred Baise to any other residence
in the world.
,c Nullus in orbe sinus Baiis prselucet amcenis.”—Jlor. Ep. i., i, 83.
, The whole shore is covered with ruins, in several places
LIES.
advancing into the sea, upon which the Patrician villas had Siciliei
encroached. i ^ J
“ Marisque Baiis obstrepentis urges,
Summovere littora,
Parum locuples continente ripa.”—Hor. Od. ii., 17,17.
In the tufa of the promontory of Miseno are excavated
vast caverns, supposed to have been magazines for the
Roman fleet stationed in a port sheltered by the Cape,
three piers of which are still to be seen under water on
the opening into the inner basin called Mare Morto. On
the Cape itself are vast remains of a theatre and other
buildings. The Bay of Baiae offers very safe and sheltered
anchorage.
In rounding the small island of Nisida and the Cape of
Posilipo, the inner Bay of Naples opens to the eyes with its
shores thickly dotted with buildings and gardens. The
city of Naples presents itself rising in the form of an am¬
phitheatre from the sea-shore to the slopes of the surround¬
ing hills, and, beyond the city, a vast plain, richly cultivated
and watered by the winding little stream Sebeto. On the
eastern side of the bay, Vesuvius, with its double summit,
rises in majestic solitude from the plain, clothed with rich
vegetation to about one-half of its height, and the other
half barren and furrowed by streams of basaltic lava. Along
its base and on its sides are scattered numerous villages and
villas built on streams of lava, which successive eruptions
of ashes and pumiceous fragments have covered with the
most fertile of soils. On the sea-shore, at the south-west
foot of Vesuvius, 4 miles from Naples, are the large villages
of Portici and Resina, built over ancient Herculaneum ;
6 miles further east was Pompeii. Both cities being de¬
scribed in this work under their respective heads, we abstain
here from any further notice of them. The harbour of
Naples is three or four fathoms in its deepest part; it is
protected by a mole that makes it safe for ships once
within it, but after a S.W. gale it is not easy to enter it.
The anchorage of men-of-war is outside the mole, about 1
mile S.S.E. of the light-house, where there is a depth of
from 25 to 38 fathoms. Ships can be conveniently sup¬
plied with water at the mole.
At the furthermost eastern recess of the bay, where the
coast suddenly bends west, is the town of Castellammare,
built on the lower slopes of Monte Santangelo, and along
the sheltered beach of a small bay, bounded on the N.W.
by Capo Bruno, and on the S.W. by Capo Orlando. It
arose from the ruins of Stabiae, which was destroyed by
the eruption of Vesuvius of a.d. 79. The port, with four
fathoms of water, and protected by a mole, is secure, and
contains the dockyards in which the largest ships of the royal
navy are built. The S.E. boundary of the Bay of Naples is
formed by the mountains that from Castellammare extend
to the Capo della Campanella, which is divided from the
island of Capri by a canal 4 miles broad, and from 60 to
80 fathoms deep, but exactly in the midst of which there
is a sunken rock. The highest peak of this range is Monte
Santangelo, south of Castellammare, 4722 feet. The town
of Vico, Sorrento with its orange and citron groves, and
numerous other villages, are on the north slopes of this
range.
After passing to the south the island of Capri,we find the
Gulf or Bay of Salerno (Sinus Pcestanus), which extends
from the Punta della Campanella to the Punta di Licosa
(Promontorium Posidium), about 46 miles across, and has
a depth of 30 miles. From Campanella to Salerno, a dis¬
tance of about 20 miles, the coast is bold and rocky, and
dotted by numerous villages, of which the largest are Posi-
tano and Amalfi. The latter place was once celebrated for
the trade of the Levant, which made it populous and wealthy.
It was the birth-place of Flavio Gioia, who, in the begin¬
ning of the thirteenth century, either invented or perfected
the mariner’s compass. It is now a poor town of about
SICILIES.
Sicilies. 5000 inhabitants; but nothing can surpass the romantic
beauty of its situation on the sea-shore, at the entrance of a
narrow gorge between high mountains, crowned by the
ruins of its former castles. Salerno, which gives the name
to the bay, stretches along the beach, with a ruined castle
on a hill behind it. The road is much exposed to south¬
westerly winds; but there is a mole, behind which small
vessels may find shelter. From Salerno the coast continues
with a smooth sandy beach, and almost in a straight line
south, bordering the plain of Paestum to Agropoli, where
the hills of the Cilento approach the sea and form the
headland of Licosa, the southern boundary of the bay, op¬
posite to which, separated by a narrow channel, is a small
island of the same name (Leucosia).
From Licosa the coast trends towards the south-east, with
no good port till it reaches the safe anchorage formed by
the headland which, by the name of Palinuro, reminds us
of the pilot of iEneas:—
“ Et statuent tumulum, et tumulo solemnia mittent;
Aeternumque locus Palinuri nomen habebit.”—jffin. vi., 380.
Midway between Licosa and Palinuro, 2 miles from the
mouth of the Alento, are the scanty remains of Velia,
where Zeno founded the eleatic school of philosophy.
The mildness of its climate attracted the Romans; Paulus
iEmilius was ordered there for the sake of his health. S.S.E.
of Cape Palinuro the coast continues bold to Capo degli
Intreschi, where it opens into a gulf (Sinus Laus), which
takes its name from Policastro (Buxentum), situated on its
north shore, once a place of importance, but since its sack
by the Turks in 1544 a miserable village. Eight miles
S.E., at the head of the gulf, is the small anchorage of
Sapri (Scidra), from which the coast, descending south, be¬
comes bolder and more picturesque, and is clothed with
vineyards, olives, mulberries, and orange groves, and scat¬
tered with villages and towns, of which the most important
are Scalea, Diamante, Belvedere, Paola, and Amantea. At
Cape Suvero (Lampetes), it opens into the Gulf of Sta.
Eufemia (Sitius Terinceus), and becomes flat and marshy,
and infested with malaria. A few miles east of the mouth
of the Lamato, on a small isolated hill, is the town of
Maida, the scene of the victory gained by our arms under
Sir John Stuart over the French, under General Regnier, on
the 4th July 1806. At Pizzo the coast rises again, and con¬
tinues rocky and inaccessible round Cape Zambrone and
Cape Vaticano, till it sinks into the low coast that encloses
the Gulf of Gioia (Sinus Brutiius), on the N. and E. The
lower spurs of the Aspromonte come near the sea at Palmi,
whence the coast continues lofty and bold almost the whole
way round the toe of Italy. At the southernmost end of
the Gulf of Gioia is the town and rock of Scylla, where the
celebrated straits called Faro di Messina are entered.
Scylla is situated on a small promontory, and is built in
a series of terraces rising one above the other from the
sandy bays on either side of it towards the castle, which
stands on the bluff cliff at its extremity. It suffered aw¬
fully from the earthquakes of 1783, the first shocks having
almost totally destroyed it. Afraid of a repetition, the old
Prince of Scylla and most of the inhabitants, on the even¬
ing of the 5th February, took shelter in boats on the west
beach. Towards dusk, however, another violent shock rent
part of its promontory, and throwing it into the sea, caused
the waters of the straits to rush back with overwhelming
force on the beach, and sweep away 2500 persons. On the
6th of February more corpses were thrown back on the
shore than there remained inhabitants at Scylla.
The Faro channel was depicted by the poets of antiquity
in most terrific colours, but as the Athenians, the Syra-
241
cusans, the Locrians, and the Rhegians, fought in it, it could Sicilies,
not have been considered so horrible by ancient sailors
as by ancient poets; though the passage through it might
have been an affair of some moment with their small vessels
and inexperienced seamen. Its horrors, however, have
been much overcome by the progress of nautical science.
Admiral W. H. Smyth, long occupied in surveying the
Mediterranean, took accurate measurements by theodolite
angles of the distance across this passage, at four different
points. The shortest distance, from the village of Ganziri
to Point Pezzo, is 3972 yards; the next in length is from
Messina light-house to Point dell’ Orso, 5427 yards ; the
next from Faro Point to the Castle of Scylla, is 6047 yards ;
and the last, from Messina light-house to the cathedral of
Reggio, is 13,187 yards.
The currents in the straits are numerous and various. In
settled seasons there is a central stream running north and
south, at the rate of from 2 to 5 miles an hour, and which,
though properly speaking only a current when uninfluenced
by strong winds, is governed by the moon. On each
shore there is a counter or returning set at uncertain dis¬
tances from the beach, often forming eddies to the central
current; but in very fresh breezes the lateral tides are
scarcely perceptible, whilst the main one increases so as
to send at intervals slight whirlpools to each shore. There
is an uncertain rise and fall of a few inches in the tide, but
at the vernal equinox it amounts to 18 or 20 inches. There
is usually an interval of from fifteen to sixty minutes be¬
tween the changes, and the tide runs six hours each way.
In light breezes the current may be stronger than the ship’s
effort, and, by turning her round, often alarms a person
unacquainted with the phenomenon, although there is no
actual danger. The greatest risks, however, are occasioned
by the heavy gusts of wind which at times, from the
mountainous nature of the coasts, rush down the torrent-
beds and prove dangerous to small vessels.
Nelson with his fleet passed through this channel; but,
in attributing to him the merit of first attempting it, his
biographers have overlooked, not only Ruggiero di Loria,
who often passed through it, but our own Byng and the
gallant Walton,1 who had, nearly a century before, also
achieved the passage.
Charybdis, which is on the Sicilian coast, will be noticed
hereafter.
There is a curious aerial phenomenon in the Strait of
Messina, noticed by the ancients, and called Fata Mor¬
gana by the Sicilians. Most extraordinary accounts of
this singular phenomenon have been given by those who
have witnessed it from the city of Reggio, but the best
description of it is that given by the Domenican Minasi,
towards the end of the last century, who had seen it three
times in its most perfect state:—“ When the rising sun shines
from that point whence its incident ray forms an angle of
45° on the sea of Reggio, and the bright surface of the
water in the bay is not disturbed either by the wind or
the current, the spectator being placed on an eminence of
the city, with his back to the sun and his face to the sea,
on a sudden he sees appear in the water, as in a catoptric
theatre, various multiplied objects, i. e., numberless series
of pilasters, arches, castles well delineated, regular columns,
lofty towers, superb palaces with balconies and windows,
extended alleys of trees, delightful plains with herds and
flocks, &c., all in their natural colours and proper action, and
passing rapidly in succession along the surface of the sea,
during the whole period of time that the above-mentioned
causes remain. But if, in addition to the circumstances
before described, the atmosphere be highly impregnated
1 This was the officer who, after the action between Sir George Byng and the Spanish fleet, was detached in pursuit of six sail of
the line and some smaller ships, and reported his success in the following terms:—“Sir, V\ e have taken or destroyed all the
enemy’s ships and vessels on the coast, as per margin. 16th Aug. 1718,” &c.
VOL. XX. 2 II
242
SICILIES.
Sicilies, with vapour and exhalations not dispersed by the wind nor
—rarefied by the sun, it then happens that in this vapour, as
in a curtain extended along the channel to the height of
about 28 feet and nearly down to the sea, the observer
will behold the scene of the same objects not only reflected
from the surface of the sea, but likewise in the air, though
not in so distinct and defined a manner as in the sea. And
again, if the air be slightly hazy and opaque, and at the
same time dewy and adapted to form the iris, then the
objects will appear only at the surface of the sea, but they
will be all vividly coloured or fringed with red, green, blue,
and the other prismatic colours.”
Admiral Smyth, however, doubts the accuracy of the
description, and thinks that the imagination strongly assists
these dioptric appearances, having never met a Sicilian who
had actually seen anything more than the loom or mirage
consequent on a peculiar state of the atmosphere, which he
here observed many times to be unusually strong.
In the Faro of Messina, the only place of importance on
the continental side is Reggio, the capital of Calabria
Ultra L, well built, in a healthy spot, and surrounded by
most beautiful scenery. Its climate is favourable to the
cultivation of plants of both hemispheres. The environs
abound in oranges, citrons, mulberries, grapes, figs, and
a great variety of other fruits; the date-palm bears fruit,
the castor-oil plant attains a great size, and the American
aloe and cactus border the roads and supply the place of
hedges.
On clearing the Faro and proceeding round to the Ionian
Sea, Cape Pellaro [Bruttium Prom.), Capo dell’ Armi
(Leucopetra) and Capo Spartivento {Promontorum Her-
culis) are passed; the latter being the southernmost con¬
tinental spot in Italy, in N. Lat. 37. 56. From thence to
Cape Rizzuto the coast, always bold and rocky, forms two
irregular concavities divided by a projecting offshoot of the
Aspromonte, on which is the town of Stilo. In the centre
of the south concavity, near the shore, are the ruins of
Locri Epizephyrii, one of the most ancient cities of Magna
Grsecia, which had Zaleucus for her legislator, and was
praised by Pindar for the hospitality, justice, and wisdom
of her citizens. The town of Gerace, on a rising ground
5 miles inland, sprang from it. The north concavity, called
the Gulf of Squillace, from a small town of that name
{Scylaceuni) standing on a steep rock, has several small
villages and towers near the coast, but no harbour or an¬
choring place, except with the wind off land; the water is
very deep close to the shore, but there is no secure part
where vessels can find shelter, in case of finding themselves
on a lee-shore with a strong gale of wind. Hence the
ancient appellation of navifragum Scylacceum given to
the gulf.
Rounding the Capes Castella, Rizzuto, and delle Cimiti
(the Tria lapygum Promontoria of Strabo), we find Cape
Nau {Prom. Lacinium), called also Capo delle Colonne,
from the ruins of the famous temple of Juno Lacinia that
stood upon it.
“ Hinc [the east entrance of the gulf] sinus Herculei, si vera est
fama Tarenti
Cernitur. Adtollit se diva Lacinia contra,
Caulonisque arces, et navifragum Scylacseum.”—JEn. iii., 551.
Six miles N.W. of Cape Nau are the port and town of
Cotrone, surrounded by an unhealthy district, and remark¬
able only as standing on the site of Croton, once one of
the most flourishing cities of Magna Graecia, the residence
of Pythagoras, and the chief seat of his school.
Further east opens the great Gulf or Bay of Taranto,
which, from the extreme points of Cape Alice (Crimissa)
to the south-west, and Cape Santa Maria di-Leuca to the
north-east, extends 66 miles across. No part of the west
shore affords any harbour or shelter for a vessel with the
wind blowing from the south or south-east. Sybaris, the
earliest and .one of the most celebrated cities of Magna
Graecia; Thurii, that had among its colonists the orator
Lysias and Herodotus the historian; Heracleia, a joint
colony of the Thurians and Tarentines, and the place of
meeting of the general assemblies of the Italiot Greeks;
and Melapontum, where Pythagoras ended his days—all
stood on the western shore, at present deserted, of this gulf.
Taranto {Tarentum), in its N.W. angle, behind the small,
low islands of S. Pietro and S. Paolo, was once the rival of
Rome, and had an excellent port, which, becoming choked
up from neglect, forms now what is called the Mare Piccolo,
which is famous for its oysters and great variety of delicate
fish. The city has a fort, and occupies the site of the
ancient citadel, on a rocky isthmus, which, being cut through
by Ferdinand I. of Aragon, is now an island connected
with the mainland by two bridges. More than 50 miles
south-east of Taranto, on a rocky island connected with
the mainland by a causeway, stands Gallipoli {Callipolis),
near to which is a roadstead, with good anchorage, within
gun-shot of the town ; but farther inshore the ground is
rocky, and there are several shoals. The trade of this town
consists chiefly in the export of oil, well known by its name.
Thirty miles S.E. of Gallipoli is Cape Sta. Maria di Leuca
{lapygium Prom.), which marks the boundary between the
Gulf of Taranto and the Adriatic ; and upwards of 30 miles
north of it is Cape Otranto, the easternmost point of land
in Italy. Otranto {Hydruntum), has a port capable of
affording shelter to vessels when the wind is south or
south-west, but a northerly wind blows right into it. It
admits vessels of 150 tons. About 40 miles north-west
is Brindisi {Brundusium), from which the Romans usually
crossed to Dyrrachium, the modern Durazzo, on their
way to Greece. It was once the best harbour on this side
of the Adriatic; but in the fifteenth century the Prince
of Taranto sunk some ships in the middle of the passage
to prevent his enemies from entering, and thereby formed
a resting-place for sea-weeds and sand, an accumulation
of which choked it up. Of late years the government has
undertaken the work of clearing it up.
The coast from Brindisi proceeds north-west to Mono-
poli, Mola, Polignano, and Bari {Barium), the largest city
on this side of the kingdom. It has good anchorage with¬
out,’,and a small haven into which vessels can enter. A
new port is in progress of construction. It is a fine city,
andfexports large quantities of wine, oil, almonds,and soap.
Beyond this are Giovenazzo, Molfetta, Bisceglie, Trani,
and Barletta, all populous places, but not so flourishing
as they were in the middle ages. Six miles N. of Bar¬
letta, beyond the mouth of the Ofanto, are the Reali Sa¬
line, the largest salt-works in the kingdom; and further
north, at the bottom of the Gulf or Bay of Manfredonia,
is the city of that name, founded in 1256, by Manfred, and
celebrated for the excellence of its esculent vegetables.
Between Manfx-edonia and the boundary line towards
the Papal territory there are no good ports or harbours,
though there are some spots where there is tolerable
anchorage. On our progress north, about 8 miles north¬
east of Manfredonia, on the shore at the foot of Mount
Gargano, is the village and tower of Mattinata, supposed
to mark the spot where Archytas of Tarentum was ship¬
wrecked. Viesti, in the midst of orange groves on the
slope of the easternmost spur of the Gargano, has a fair
anchorage. On rounding the promontory, the Tremiti
islands {Diomedece) come in view, the nearest of which is
about 14 miles from the coast. They are four—S.
Domenico, S. Nicola, Caprara, and Pianosa. The latter,
which scarcely belongs to the group, is 11 miles north-east
of Caprara. At San Domenico {Trimerum), the largest,
Julia, the granddaughter of Augustus and wife of Lepidus,
died in exile. On S. Nicola there is a prison for culprits
from Naples.
Sicilies.
S I C I
Sicilies. North of the mouth of the Biferno is Termoli, the
—second port of the kingdom on the Adriatic, sheltered by
a small headland, and affording safe anchorage. North¬
west of Termoli there are several towns and villages, along
a coast generally low and sandy. The most important of
them are—Vasto (Histonium); Ortona {Orton), on a pro¬
jecting promontory commanding an extensive view of the
coast, and with a small port from which the best wines in
this part of Italy are exported; Pescara, the second
fortress in the continental states, in a most unhealthy situa¬
tion at the mouth of the river of that name ; and Giulia-
nova, where the Apennines come so near the coast as to
leave only a narrow strip of lowland. Ten miles north
of Giulianova is the Tronto.
I he Domini al di Id del Faro, or island part of the king¬
dom, comprises Sicily, the Lipari group, and other smaller
islands.
Sicily (Sicilia, Sicania, Trinacrid), next to Sardinia,
the largest, and by far the richest and most important
island in the Mediterranean, extends in N. Lat. from 36.
38. to 38. 18., and in E. Long, from 12. 25. to 15. 35, and
has an area of about 7967 geographical square miles, and
a population, in January 1855, of 2,231,020 inhabitants.
It is separated from the continental Italian coast by the
Straits of Messina, and from the headland of Cape Bon, in
Africa, by 80 miles of the Mediterranean Sea. The ap¬
pearance of the two coasts justifies the belief, that a violent
disruption or subsidence of strata separated it from Italy at
some remote period.
The name Trinacria was derived from its form of an
irregular triangle, of which the shortest side faces the east,
and the longest the north. The angles of the triangle are
formed by Cape Torre di Faro (Pelorus) to the N.E.; Cape
Boeo (Lilybceum) to the W.; and Cape Passaro (Pachynus)
to the S. Though the topography of the island is not accu¬
rately known, no scientific survey of it having ever been
made, yet the distance, in a direct line from Cape Boeo to
Torre di Faro, the greatest length of the island, is estimated
at about 198 miles; from the latter Cape to Cape Passaro,
its breadth, 123 miles; and from Cape Passaro to Cape
Boeo, 184 miles. Its circumference, including the wind¬
ings of the coast, is estimated at upwards of 550 miles.
A considerable part of the surface of Sicily is rugged, and
covered with mountains. The group of Mount Madonia
(JYebrodes), whose highest peak rises to an elevation of
3765 feet, is the central nucleus from which the other
mountains branch off. The western range surrounds the
Bay of Palermo and the Gulf of Castellammare, and form¬
ing the almost detached mass of Mount St Giuliano (Eryx),
2184 feet high, sinks into the sea near Trapani. Another
range trends east, encircles Mount Etna on the north, and
approaches the sea at Taormina, whence it turns north-east,
and, under the name of Nettuno Mountains, ends at the
Faro Cape. The third range trends south-east through the
heart of the island, forms the elevated group on which stands
Castrogiovanni (Ennd), and thence breaking up into irre¬
gular masses of lower hills, covers great part of the south¬
east corner of the island. Between the two latter ranges,
but entirely detached from them by intervening valleys,
stands the great mass of Mount Etna, called also Mongi-
bello, the largest and most destructive volcano in Europe.
It rises on the east coast, between Catania and Taormina,
and attains an elevation of 10,874 feet, which, however,
is subject to variations, in consequence of the changes
caused by great eruptions. Its base has a circumference
of upwards of 90 miles, of which no less than 30 are of
sea-coast, formed by the streams of its lava. A more
detailed account of JEtna will be found under its head in
this work. At the south end of its base is the rich plain
of Catania, and beyond it is an extensive volcanic forma¬
tion, of a much older date than JEtna, which covers the
LIES, 243
tract from Palagonia and Scordia to Palazzolo and the Siciiip*
neighbourhood of Syracuse.
I he ranges of mountains we have noticed form three
great natural divisions of the island—the Val Demona, on
the north; the Val di Noto, on the east; and the Val di Maz-
zara on the south-west side; and till 1819 they combined
with the administrative divisions, which at that time were
altered and changed into seven provinces. The surface of
Val Demona and Val di Noto is chiefly hilly and rugged,
whilst Val di Mazzara is an undulatory plain, sloping gently
from the mountains to the sea.
The rivers of Sicily are numerous, but none of them of
any importance ; most of them are mere mountain-torrents,
nearly dry in summer. The most important of them will
be noticed in our survey of the coasts. There is scarcely
any mass of water considerable enough to deserve the name
of a lake. I he largest, however, is the Lake of Lentini
(Herculeus Lacus), between the city of that name and
Scordia, south of the Piana di Catania. A few miles south
of Castrogiovanni is Lake Pergusa (Pcrgus), about 4 miles
in circumference, which is associated with the mythological
story of the rape of Proserpine.
“ Haud procul Enneis lacus est a moenibus altae,
iN’omine Fergus, aquae 
Prigora dint rami, Tyraos humus humida flores;
Perpetuum ver est. Ov. Metam., v., 385.
Ihe lakes of Camerana, Terranova, and Naftia, are mere
ponds.
Ihe first appearance of the coast of Sicily is strikingly
picturesque. Vessels from the westward generally touch first
at Cape St Vito, the northernmost point, in N. Lat. 38. 13.
and E. Long. 12. 45. It forms the west point of the Gulf of
Castellammare (Sinus Segestanus), an indentation about ten
miles in depth, at the bottom of which is the town of the
same name, in a highly cultivated district. Six miles south
of it, inland, are the well-known remains of Segesta, consist¬
ing of a Doric temple, with vestiges of an ancient theatre.
To the eastward of the Gulf of Castellammare, beyond the
lofty promontories that bound it on that side, is the bay
and city of Palermo (Panormus), sheltered on the east by
Mount Catalfano. There is good anchoring gi’ound in al¬
most every part of this bay, near the shore. To the north¬
east of the city is a fine mole, nearly a quarter of a mile
in length, extending into water of the depth of 9 or 10
fathoms ; and it forms a noble port, capable of containing a
great number of vessels. Along the whole, at the most
favourable points, there are establishments for the tunny
fisheries. The next point on the coast is Cape Zaffarana,
which looks like an island, and forms the western boundary
of the extensive bay of Termini, in the middle of which
stands the city of Termini. During two-thirds of the year
the anchorage is so exposed that the boats must be drawn
up upon the beach.
Five miles to the eastward of Termini is the site of the
ancient Himcera, the birth-place of the poet Stesichorus,
and celebrated on account of one of the most disastrous
battles that history has recorded. 300,000 Carthagenians
under Hamilcar were routed with great slaughter by Gelon
of Syracuse and Theron of Agrigentum, b.c. 480. Near to
it the Fiume Grande (Himera) discharges its waters into
the sea, through one of the most unhealthy, but most fertile
districts of the island.
About 12 miles to the east stands the city of Cefalil
(Cephalcedium), on a low projecting point of land, under a
conical mount, on the summit of which are the ruins of
an ancient Phoenician edifice and a Saracenic castle. It
has a fine cathedral. The district from Cefalu to Caronia
(Calaclce) is the most extensively wooded with oak, elm,
and ash trees of any in Sicily, and most of the trees are
converted into charcoal. On the shore there is good an-
244
SICILIES.
Sicilies chorage, which continues by the towns of Santa Agata
and San Marco, to Cape Orlando. Here is a dangerous
reef of rocks; but between it and the shore there is good
ground, where small vessels may anchor in safety. Cape
Orlando (Agathyrnum Pr.) is distinguished by the Brolo
Castle, a ruinous structure, and a rock between 16 and
17 feet in circumference, and 20 feet above the level of the
water, behind which a ship may ride in safety, except when
a southerly wind blows with great violence.
Next to Cape Orlando is Cape Calava, which bounds on
the west the Bay of Patti, a perfectly safe anchorage in all
parts except in the centre, where there is a large rock ; but
as it appears above water, all danger is easily avoided. In
the middle of the bay is the lofty projecting headland of
Cape Tindaro, on which the ancient Tyndaris was situated.
East of it a sandy beach extends along a fertile plain
studded with villages, and terminates at the promontory
and city of Milazzo, the ancient Myla, situated on the
southern part of the promontory facing the east. It con¬
sists of the upper and lower town, and a citadel command¬
ing the city, the port, and the promontory. This northern
coast terminates with Cape Rasaculmo, which is a deep
sandy bay, with several small streams running into it. The
banks are much infected by malaria, but the heights near
them are thickly peopled. Off the cape is good anchorage
ground, with from 12 to 20 fathoms depth of water.
The eastern coast of Sicily begins at the north with the
Faro of Messina, and the city of that name. The cele¬
brated vortex known to the ancients as Charybdis, but now
called Galofaro, is formed at the back of the tongue of land
named Braccio di San Raniere, which is one arm of the
harbour of Messina. This whirlpool was said by the ancients
to sw'allow up ships, and upon the return of the tide to throw
them up again in broken pieces. Admiral Smyth describes
it as an agitated water from 70 to 90 fathoms in depth,
circling in quick eddies, which seem to be caused by the
meeting of the harbour and of the lateral currents with the
main current; the latter being forced over in this direction
by the opposite point of Pezzo. The risk is proverbial; and
at the present day small craft are sometimes endangered by
it, and ships of war wheeled round upon its surface; but,
with caution, very little danger or inconvenience is to be
apprehended from it, especially since a lighthouse has been
constructed.
In our progress westward, along a bold and fine coast,
are Cape Grosso, Point St Alessio [Argenum), and Cape
St Andrea, near to the last of which, in a bay of the same
name, is the city of Taormina (Tauromeniuni), in one of the
finest situations in the world, though at present not very
healthy. It has good anchorage ground, in water from 8
to 30 fathoms in depth. About 2 miles beyond it, the
Alcantara (Onobalas or Acesines), one of the most con¬
siderable rivers of Sicily, falls into the sea. Near to this
is the most fertile district of Mascali, which, amongst other
productions, yields annually about 90,000 pipes of excel¬
lent wine.
Beyond this, at the distance of 5 miles, is Point locco,
a precipitous mass of basaltic lava, converted into a mole,
and forming a small port called the Marina of Aci. Not
far from it is the city of Aci Reale, standing on extensive
streams of lava. It is in a healthy and fertile spot, and
is clean and well built. Another promontory, 3 miles
from it, Cape Molino, is formed of lava; and the town of La
Trezza, near to it, is built wholly of that rock, the very dark
hue of which, contrasted with the white-washed lintels and
door-posts of the houses, has a singular appearance. Near
La Trezza are the rocks called the Cyclops, which have a
bold and striking appearance; for the basalts that form
them are mostly vertical, and consist of prisms of from 4 to
8 sides.
The bay upon which Catania, stands is 7^ miles in ex¬
tent from La Trezza to Cape Santa Croce; the ground is Sicilies,
generally clean, and ships may anchor in any part of it ^
during the fine season. The city, originally a Greek
colony, has been most dreadfully ravaged by wars, earth¬
quakes, and volcanic eruptions. By the great eruption of
Etna, in 1693, which in great part filled up the port, more
than 50,000 persons perished, and the whole of the build¬
ings were destroyed, except a few which were subsequently
taken down to carry on the plan laid down for rebuilding
the new city. It stands close on the sea-shore, and is well
built, regular, spacious, and handsome. The churches and
other public buildings are magnificent, being for the most
part constructed of lava, faced with magnesian limestone,
and enriched with marble. It is the residence of many
of the Sicilian nobility, and has many literary and chari¬
table institutions. The environs are fertile and well cul¬
tivated. The harbour is generally filled with small craft,
which repair to it for corn, macaroni, potatoes, olives, figs,
silk, wine, almonds, cheese, oil, soda, manna, cantharides,
amber, snow, and lava. The beauty of the situation ex¬
ceeds all power of description. The city, close on the
sea-shore, is overshadowed by the gigantic majesty of
.Etna, whose summit is only 14^ miles northward, and is
encompassed by the several minor volcanic hills, which
appear like so many branches arising from the parent
stock; whilst the placid brilliancy of the sea-view in front,
and the solemnity of the inland scenery behind, contribute
to form as magnificent a prospect as any part of the island
can exhibit.
A little to the south of Catania the Giarretta (Symcethus),
the most important river on the eastern coast, enters the
sea; and further south is the port of La Bruca, with a
harbour looking like a work of art rather than of nature, as
the rocks rise vertically to the height of 40 or 50 feet.
After passing Capo Santa Croce, the spacious Bay of
Augusta (Xiphonius Portus), bounded on the south by
Cape Magnisi (TapsusJ, opens to view. On a tongue of
land projecting from the N. side of the bay stands the town
of Augusta, whose inhabitants subsist chiefly by collecting
salt from some salines near them, and by the export of oil
and wine. There is a fort and a lighthouse, which, with
the cathedral, form the marks for reaching the anchorages ;
the latter are good, although the inner one is deemed un¬
healthy. The western sides of the harbour are watered
by several streams abounding with fish. On the same
side are the mountains of Hybla, celebrated by the ancients
on account of the honey produced on them, the sale of
which still forms a most profitable trade.
The next place to Augusta is Syracuse, originally a
Corinthian colony, and the birth-place of Empedocles,
Theocritus, and Archimedes. In the days of its pros¬
perity and power it is said to have contained half a million
of inhabitants. The whole of the present city now
scarcely covers the island of Ortygia. It suffered most
dreadfully by an earthquake in 1693, which destroyed a
great part of the population. It is a fortress of consider¬
able strength; and the entrance of the harbour, which is
half a mile wide, is defended by a fort on the south of the
town. The adjacent country being copiously irrigated,
and possessing a marly soil, is exuberantly fertile, pro¬
ducing wheat, oil, hemp, tobacco, fruit, pulse, and several
kinds of delicious wines; but, from the marshes of the
alluvial plains on the west side, pernicious and destructive
miasmata have frequently arisen. The port is a very secure
one, easy of access, and sufficiently capacious to. admit a
large fleet, with great facilities for shipping provisions and
water, as was experienced by Lord Nelson, who, in five
days, obtained supplies sufficient for his memorable pursuit
of the French fleet in the year 1798.
Between Syracuse and Cape Passaro, the southernmost
spot in Sicily** is the extensive bay, the northern point of
S I C I
Sicilies- which is Cape Lungo. In the whole of it there is good
.. j shelter for large as well as small vessels, which may be
compelled to bear up in the channel of Malta by a westerly
gale of wind. The anchorage is good in from 9 to 30
fathoms of water, with a good holding ground of stiff clay.
The town of Avola carries on some traffic in wine, corn,
almonds, oil, honey, and sugar made from the only planta¬
tion of canes now left on the island. The city of Noto,
within four miles of the shore, is finely situated and well
built, and the country around is fertile. Seven miles south
of it is the Abisso, the ancient Helorus, which winds
through a rich but unhealthy plain.
That part of the coast of Sicily which extends from Cape
Granatola in the west, to Cape Passaro in the east, is gene¬
rally low and arid, and does not possess a single harbour
for large ships, although there are several tolerable sum¬
mer anchorages. The approaches towards the headlands
are not so clear nor so deep as those of the northern
shores ; but ships are safe which by day are not in less than
12 fathoms water, or at night in about 20 fathoms.
From Cape Granatola to Cape St Marco there is a long
but slender bay, called the Gulf of Tre Fontane, 20 miles
deep. It is of easy access, but has no good shelter except
for small vessels. In it, near to Port Paolo, are the soli¬
tary extensive ruins of Selinus or Sehnuntum, appearing,
at no great distance, like a large city; and 4 miles east of
them the Belici (Hypsa), which rises near Corleone, and
has a course of upwards of 30 miles, falls into the sea.
From St Marco to Cape Bianco a similar bay extends
about 14 miles, in which there is good anchorage; but
it is only safe in the summer months near the town of
Sciacca, the Thermce Selinuntice of antiquity; a poor but
large place. The baths are supplied by two springs;
one of which is sulphureous and hot, being about 126° of
Fahr.; the other cool, being about 60°, and impregnated
with the saline qualities of the rock from which it springs.
The steam-baths of Daedalus are situated on an insulated
rock, and have been in use upwards of three thousand
years.
Close to the north of Cape Bianco the Platani (Halycus),
next to the Salso, the largest river in Sicily, empties itself.
On its left bank are the ruins of Heracleia Minoa, and 8
miles beyond it is the town of Siculiana, pleasantly situated,
but in an unhealthy climate. The chief trade consists
in the exportation of sulphur, of which there are some
extensive mines in the neighbourhood. The city of Gir-
genli (Agrigentum), 10 miles farther east, stands on a hill at
nearly 1200 feet above the level of the sea, and is so
elevated that almost every house in it can be seen at once.
It has a cathedral, a large and heavy structure of the
thirteenth century; but it is irregularly built, dirty, and
poor. Agrigentum was renowned for its power and com¬
mercial enterprise, and is said to have once contained
200,000 inhabitants. Most of the space which it occupied
is now a continued range of orchards and gardens, and of
groves of almond and olive trees. The vestiges of the
city have been amply described by Admiral Smyth in
his able and accurate account of the island. The port
is formed by a mole, having on it a lighthouse; and outside
of it there is good anchorage. At this port, also, large
quantities of sulphur are shipped.
About 5 miles from Point Bianco, and 2 miles from the
shore, is Palma, which overlooks one of the richest and
best cultivated valleys in Sicily, and near to it many cattle
are reared. About 10 miles from Palma, is Alicata
(Phintia), at the mouth of the River Salso {Himera), the
largest river of Sicily, which rises in the Madonia moun¬
tains, only 15 miles from the N. coast, and traverses most
ol the island in its course of more than 50 miles south. At
the entrance there is a bar, on which the surf beats so
heavily with southerly winds, that boats can only enter it
LIES. 245
by a narrow passage, which is always difficult, and some- Sicilies,
times dangerous.
At the distance of 14 miles from Alicata, along an open
beach, is Terra Nova (Gela), where ./Eschylus ended his
days. About a mile from the town there is good anchor¬
age in from 7 to 10 fathoms water, but it is much exposed
when the wind blows from the south-west. The town is
situated on a table-land, considerably elevated ; and it has a
fine palace, but few other edifices worthy of notice. The
country around abounds in corn.
The whole coast to Cape Scalambra is within a reef of
rocks, always an object of peculiar dread to the ancients,
and, notwithstanding all the improvements made in navi¬
gation, the cause of the loss of many ships. It is not safe
to approach nearer the shore than a depth of water of 14
fathoms, nor, with a westerly wind, quite so near as that
depth. The eastern side of Cape Scalambra has a small
port for vessels of an easy draught of water. From Cape
Scalambra the distance to Point Spina is 8 miles; at
the latter place the coast is foul and rocky ; but at three
leagues farther is the town of Pozzallo, which is the
chief shipping place for the produce of the district. The
next point is Cape Passaro, the southernmost land of
Sicily, being in north lat. 36. 41. 30. It is formed of bold
projecting rocks, and immediately off it is the small island
of Correnti. Near to it the water of the limpid stream of
Busaidone irrigates the land of Spaccaforno, a town 3 miles
from the shore. It trades with Malta, to which it exports
grain, flax, carrubas, acorns, and live cattle.
The west shore, which extends from Cape St Vito to
Cape Granatola, will require but a short description. Pro¬
ceeding from Cape St Vito southwards, we come to Cape
Emilia, opposite to which is the dangerous shoal of that
name, on which there are only 2 fathoms of water, whilst
everywhere around it there are from 6 to 10 fathoms. Im¬
mediately to the south-east of it rises Mount San Giuliano
(Pryx), on whose summit, on the place now occupied by a
prison, stood the famous temple of Venus, who derived
from it the surname of Erycina. Only a few vestiges of
it now remain, built up in the walls of the prison; but in
the town of San Giuliano near it, which has about 7000
inhabitants, there are in the houses several fine granite
columns, which undoubtedly belonged to the temple.
At the distance of 4 miles west of San Giuliano is the
city of Trapani (Drepanum), which may be approached
with safety by vessels of from 200 to 300 tons; though, as
the ground is much broken, and there are many counter-
currents, great care is required on the part of the pilot.
Trapani is surrounded by a wall with bastions and rave¬
lins, and among its inhabitants are some of the best artists,
artificers, and sailors of the island. It is a place of con¬
siderable enterprise and industry; well built, and with
a fine cathedral and senatorial palace. From Trapani
southward to Capes Boeo and Marsala, a distance of 10
miles, the coast is low, irregular, and varied by numerous
islets resting upon a base of shoal and rocky ground which
in some parts extends 2 miles from the shore. I he country
on the main island is laid out in extensive saltworks, by
the construction of causeways about a foot and a half high,
enclosing square places which communicate by dams with
each other. The salt is heaped up in a pyramidal form,
at a distance resembling tents, and when quite dry, is ex¬
ported chiefly to Marseilles.
Cape Boeo, the westernmost point of the island, and that
nearest to Africa, from which it is only 80 miles distant, is
a low rocky headland, above which, in a healthy situation,
stands the city of Marsala, the ancient Lilybceum, founded
by the Carthaginians in B.C. 397. Lilybseum had a good
and much-frequented port, though neither spacious nor deep,
but it was blocked up with sunken stones by order of the
Emperor Charles V.} to protect the place from the attacks
246
SICILIES.
Sicilies, of the Algerine corsairs. The Saracens, during their domi-
nation in Sicily, attached so much importance to it, that they
called it Massa Alla—the port of God—from whence the
modern name of the city arose. Marsala is tolerably well-
built and surrounded by a wall, and exports wine, fruits,
and barilla. Near to it there is a large establishment for
shipping its wine to England, where it is well known by
the name of “ Marsala.” The ground on the beach is all
shoal and foul, and large ships must anchor at nearly 2
miles from the mole, which has been constructed near the
English wine-stores of the two houses of Bingham and
Gumming Wood.
Off the coast, between Trapani and Marsala, lies a group
of three small islands {JEgates), of which the western¬
most and most distant, Maretimo {Hiera), is 22 miles from
the coast of Sicily. Favignana {JEgusa), the largest and
southernmost, and Levazzo (Phorbantia), the smallest and
northernmost, are at about a distance of 6 and 8 miles off.
On Maretimo and Favignana there are the worst dungeons
in the kingdom for political and common criminals.
About, 10 miles S.E. of Cape Boeo is Cape Feto, and 3
miles further S. the city of Mazzara, situated at the mouth
of a small river of the same name, 6 miles north of Cape
Granatola. It retains its ancient name (Mazara), and
though the streets are narrow and dirty, its domes, rising
above the houses, give it a respectable appearance from
the sea. It is surrounded by a Saracenic wall, and has
some trade in the exportation of grain, pulse, wine, fruit,
barilla, madder-root, oil, and soap. Its little haven is formed
by the entrance of the river, and is convenient for small
craft, but larger vessels are obliged to lie at a very exposed
anchorage without, in from 8 to 12 fathoms water, where
the holding ground is a stiff clay.
The tides, or rather the currents, arising from the con¬
stant evaporation and the action of the winds, observe no
regularity, rising a foot or two, according to the weather,
and the peculiarities of locality and depth. Thus, the north¬
west winds, raking the shores, produce a strong set to the
south-east, whilst the south-west wind, which is very sen¬
sibly felt during the vernal equinox, causes strong counter-
currents ; and at length, on a change of wind to the oppo¬
site quarter, the whole body of water rushes with great
velocity to the westward. In settled weather, the currents
between Sicily and the African shore run to the eastward
at the rate of from half a mile to a mile an hour. In the
channel of Malta, the current at south-east has been found
so strong, that ships have found it difficult to beat up to
Maritimo ; whilst others, driven to leeward of Malta, have
been obliged to carry a press of sail in order not to lose
way, until a change of wind enabled them to make the
island again.
An atmospheric phenomenon which deserves notice oc¬
curs principally on the southern coast of Sicily, but exhibits
its greatest force in the neighbourhood of Mazzara. It
commonly bears the name of Marobia, and is thus described
by Admiral Smyth :—“ Its approach is announced by a still¬
ness in the atmosphere and a lurid sky, when suddenly the
water rises nearly two feet above its usual level, and rushes
into the creeks with amazing rapidity, but in a few minutes
recedes again with equal velocity, disturbing the mud,
tearing up the sea-weed, and occasioning a noisome effluvia.
During its continuance the fish float quite helpless on the
turbid surface, and are easily taken. These rapid changes
generally continue from thirty minutes to two hours, and
are succeeded by a breeze from the southward, which
quickly increases to heavy gusts.”
To the north of Sicily, between E. Long. 14. 13. and
15. 15., and N. Lat. 38. 20. and 38. 50., is the volcanic
group of the Lipari Islands {Insula 2Eolice), consisting of
Lipari {Lipara), the largest, and the seat of the local au¬
thorities ; Vulcano (Hiera), the nearest to the Sicilian coastj
from which it is only 12 miles off; Stromboli (Strongyla),
the northernmost; Salina {Didgme), next to Lipari in size ;
Felicudi {Phcenicusd) \ Alicudi {Ericusa), the westernmost
of the group ; Panaria {Enonymus'), and some smaller
islets. Vulcano and Stromboli are small but constantly
active volcanoes. On Salina there are two conical moun¬
tains, which attain an elevation of 3500 feet above the
level of the sea. More particulars about them will be
found under the head Lipaki.
Ustica {Ostades et Ustica), and Pantellaria (Cossura),
are two small islands of volcanic origin; the former, about
10 miles in circumference, is situated 60 miles west of
Alicudi, and 40 miles north of the Cape di Gallo, and is a
sort of beacon to ships going to Palermo from Naples. Pan¬
tellaria,west of Cape Granatola, and nearly half-way be¬
tween Sicily and the African coast, from which it is only
38 miles, is 30 miles in circumference, and has nearly
6000 inhabitants.
Politically annexed to Sicily, but geographically belong¬
ing to Africa, are the small islands of Lampedusa {Lopa-
dussd), Lalenusa, and Scola, situated almost midway be¬
tween Malta and the African coast.
From the vast extent of sea-coast appertaining to the
two divisions of the kingdom, the fishery naturally is, next
to agriculture, the chief source of occupation to the inha¬
bitants. Its principal branches are those for the tunny, or
scomber-thynnus, the swordfish, the anchovy, and the sprat.
The tunny was, according to Oppian, in the highest esti¬
mation with the Greeks, the Carthaginians, and the Homans,
who made from it the sauce called garum. Shoals of them
enter the Mediterranean in the spring, with an extended
base for the tides to act upon, as the}' swim broad and deep
in a conical form. In the progress of the shoal to the east¬
ward it inclines over towards the European coasts, and is
caught in great abundance in May, June, and July. The
average length of the tunny is from 4 to 8 feet, and the
girth from 2 to 5; yet there are many of still greater size,
and the females are always the largest.
The manner of taking them is similar to that which was
practised by the ancients. Large nets are spread out in
the shape of a parallelogram, about 1500 feet in length,
300 in width, and from 40 to 100 in depth, divided into
four quadrilateral rooms, having channels of communica¬
tion with each other. These nets are moved east and west
at about a mile distant from the shore, across the known
route of the fish, with each of the spaces at right angles, and
secured vertically by a number of anchors and stones at
the bottom, whilst the upper edge of the net is floated by
large logs of the cork-tree. The whole is connected with the
shore by a stout single net of large meshes, called the wall,
that arrests the progress of the tunny, and induces them
to enter the outer room, which is thereupon raised a little
and closed by the boatmen on the look-out. The fish,
alarmed, and seeking to escape, swim from side to side,
and thus enter the next room, when their retreat is again
prevented, and thus finally they enter the fatal part, called
corpo, where the meshes are smaller and stronger, and
made of rope of superior quality. When this chamber is
filled, large flat-floored boats, assisted by smaller ones, close
round, and, weighing the net, secure the prey with harpoons
struck into the head to prevent the fish from floundering.
Although this fish has rather a coarse appearance, the
flesh is agreeable to the taste, and very nutritious.
• The sword-fish passes by the shores of Sicily, in its route
to the Black Sea, about the time of the vernal equinox,
and is often taken in the tunny nets; but in the Straits
of Messina there is a particular fishery for them. It is
taken by the harpoon, in a manner similar to that prac¬
tised in the whale-fishery. When the fish is struck it im¬
mediately dives, and the long coil of rope fastened to the
harpoon is suffered to run out till the animal becomes faint j
SICILIES.
247
Sicilies, but it is sometimes so vigorous as to oblige the fishermen
to cut it adrift, lest it should draw the boat under waten
The length of this fish is from 7 to 13 feet, exclusive of
a sword projecting from the snout, about 3 feet long and 3
or 4 inches broad. The flesh is esteemed delicate food, and,
when broiled in slices, resembles veal.
The anchovy and the sprat are taken in shallow water in
the months of March, April, and May, by means of nets
10 or 12 feet wide, and very long. The curing of them
occupies about a month. The fish are first thrown into
brine, to give the salters time to nip off their heads with
the finger and thumb, and pack them with alternate layers
of salt, in barrels about 200 pounds each. When the cask
is filled, a round board is placed over the whole, and loaded
with stones, by which the contents are sufficiently com¬
pressed in a few days to allow of the casks being properly
coopered up for exportation.
Several parts of the coast swarm with barbel, whiting,
red mullet, sole, white smelt, mackerel, seabasse, sturgeon,
and gray mullets, the roes of which are converted into a
sauce called botarga. A variety of testaceous and crus-
taceous fish, amongst which prawns of gigantic size are
also taken along the shore. Coral yields considerable profit
to the seamen of Trapani and Torre del Greco, who fish
it on the African coast.
The geology and the mineral wealth of the country are
scarcely known. In the Abruzzi some mines of anthra¬
cite and petrolium are worked on a very small scale. The
largest iron-works are at La Serra, Mongiana, and Stilo, in
Calabria Ultra 1.; they are fed by the ore found in the
surrounding mountains of the Aspromonte. There are
mines of rock-salt, which are but slightly worked, that
substance being instead largely collected on the sea-shore,
especially of Apulia, where it is prepared by the operation
of the sun alone both for domestic consumption and for
exportation. Some alum is also collected; and in many
parts quarries of marbles of various descriptions are worked,
of which, however, none are exported. The mineral pro¬
duction of most importance, as an article of foreign trade, is
sulphur, which is only found in large quantities in Sicily.
The sulphur districts are principally in the central and
south-western part of the island, and are calculated to ex¬
tend over an area of about 2400 square miles. In 1858
there were more than 200 mines, capable of yielding up¬
wards of 160,000 tons of mineral per year. From January
1858 to November 1859, the quantity exported amounted
to 306,967 tons.
The climate is in general healthy, except in those dis¬
tricts where stagnant water produces malaria; but it varies
considerably in the different parts of the kingdom. Whilst
on the elevated mountain districts of the Abruzzi and
Molise, especially near the Monte Corno, the Maiella, and
the Monte Greco, there is a real Alpine climate, the snow
lies several months on the ground, the thermometer falls
below zero, and none of the plants of temperate latitude
thrive; along the sea-coasts, on the contrary, the winters
are mild, and the thermometer seldom or never falls to the
freezing point. The contrast is peculiarly striking in Cala¬
bria, where, on the table-land of the Sila, the winters are
intensely cold, the snow remains for a considerable part of
the year on the higher peaks, and light frosts are not un¬
common even in June and August; and yet, at a distance
of a few miles on the sea-shore, orange and lemon trees
attain a great size, the palm-tree, the sugar-cane, and other
plants of tropical latitudes grow luxuriantly, and the cactus
and American aloe are used for hedges. In summer the
heat of the sun, tempered by the breezes from the sea, is
never oppressive, except when the south wind, called
scirocco, prevails. The scirocco is not actually unhealthy,
but produces a general feeling of lassitude and depression,
which however disappear without leaving any lasting effects
as soon as the wind shifts to any other point of the compass.
The quantity of rain which falls annually on the Tyrr¬
henian coast is about 29 inches, or one-third more than in
Paris, yet the number of rainy days is greatly less than in
that, capital. On the eastern shores, both of Naples and of
Sicily, the quantity of rain that falls, as well as the rainy days,
are much less than on the western side. Sicily of course is,
upon the whole, much warmer than the continental pro¬
vinces ; but even at Girgenti, or Syracuse, the glass seldom,
and then only for a short time, rises above 90° in summer.
The Two Sicilies are essentially an agricultural country,
the cultivation of the soil being the chief occupation of
the people, and almost their only means of subsistence.
Their agriculture may be classified under four different
systems—the Mountain system, the Campanian system, the
Apulian system, and the Sicilian system.
In the Mountain system, which applies to the cultivated
districts of the northern and central provinces of the king¬
dom in general, except the higher range of the mountain-
chain, the size of farms varies greatly from 6 to 200 Eng¬
lish acres, and the rotation, generally, is as follows:—First
year, fallow or potatoes, or a summer crop of maize, beans, or
lupins, &c.; second year, wheat; third year, wheat; fourth
year, oats or barley. In elevated situations the third year is
a crop of barley, followed by two years of rest, during which
sheep are driven to graze down the herbage. The ground is
prepared in August, September, and October, and wheat,
barley, or oats are sown in November.
The Campanian system prevails in the tract of country
which extends from Gaeta to Salerno, and includes the rich
Campanian plain. Farms are generally of a small size, from
2 to 50 acres, and are let for a period of from four to twelve
years. The richness of the soil, and the abundance of
manure, enable farmers to have no fallow in the rotation of
crops, and to keep the ground in a constant state of high
cultivation. A rotation in frequent use is—First year, hemp;
second year, wheat;-third year, spring wheat; fourth year,
wheat. But the practice that more generally prevails, and
which is the characteristic feature of the Campanian system,
is to have the ground planted with rows of elms or poplars,
and vines trained from tree to tree. Grain and other crops
are raised under the shade of these trees—a practice which,
far from being a proof of bad farming, in that climate is
found to give crops of better quality, and though not so
abundant as they might be if there were no trees, yet de¬
ficiency in quantity is more than made up by the variety
of produce raised on the same soil. In the farms where
this cultivation is adopted, artificial grasses or lupins are
raised in October, to provide food for the cattle in winter.
Early in the spring the ground is ploughed, and maize is
sown in furrows, with beans, potatoes, melons, &c., in the
spaces between the furrows ; and when these summer crops
are gathered in, the ground is ploughed again, and wheat
sown. Sometimes, instead of elm or poplar trees with
vines, olive or mulberry trees are planted in rows of from
30 to 40 feet apart; and green crops, hemp, maize, or
wheat are also grown under them. Several farms are en¬
tirely laid out in orchards containing a great variety of fruit,
such as apples, pears, apricots, peaches, figs, plums, almonds,
walnuts, &c., with stone-pines towering over them all.
Madder-root has of late years been introduced, and culti¬
vated to a considerable extent in the plain on the S.E.
slope of Vesuvius.
The Apulian system is peculiar to the great plain already
described as extending from the Fortore to the Ofanto
rivers, and from the foot of the Apennines to the shores of
the Adriatic, and known by tbe local appellation of Tavo-
liere di Puglia. Nearly the whole of this vast treeless flat,
parched up in summer, and clothed with luxuriant herbage
in winter, belongs to the crown, and is chiefly laid out in
pasturage. From the earliest times, the Marsican and Sam-
Sicilies.
SICILIES.
248
Sicilies, nite shepherds were in the habit of leading their flocks from
' V ' their high mountains to this plain for the winter pasturage.
This periodical migration greatly increased when the second
Punic war had depopulated the few cities which existed on
the plain ; and the Piomans, when masters of the country, im¬
posed a vectigal, or fixed tribute, on the right of grazing upon
it—a tax more or less enforced during the middle ages. Till
the fifteenth century the winter migration of the flocks was
voluntary; but, in 1442, Alfonso I. of Aragon made it
compulsory, and established the system of the Tavoliere,
which, with some alterations, lasts to the present day.
Alfonso appropriated to the crown all commons and waste
lands to which no good title could be shown, and divided
them into Locazioni. To give greater accommodation to
the flocks, which his laws compelled to resort to Apulia, he
bought from several feudal barons and convents the right
of grazing on their adjoining lands, which he designated by
the name of Ristori. To convey the flocks to and from
the plain, several great roads, called Tratturi delle Pecore,
were traced, with some adjacent tracts of land, called Riposi
laterali, on which the flocks were allowed to rest and
graze for twenty-four hours on their march. Two general
Riposi, or resting-places, were also provided at two extre¬
mities of the plain, on which the sheep might stop till the
proprietors declared the number of their respective flocks,
and the crown officers verified them, and apportioned to
them their pastures. The farmers were compelled to sell
the produce of their stock at Foggia, where the tax was
paid into an office called the Dagana di Foggia, and they
were not allowed to leave the Tavoliere without a passport,
which of course was not granted until the taxes were paid.
Under the Spanish viceroys the system became so odious
and oppressive that Charles III., on his gaining possession
of the kingdom, made the Tavoliere the subject of an official
inquiry; but no great changes were effected till 1806. In
that year, by a law of Joseph Buonaparte, farms held under
the crown were declared freeholds of those who were in
possession of them ; and the occupants of lands assigned to
them for grazing were declared owners of such lands, on
payment to the crown of a certain rent, which was fixed
according to the number of their flocks, and wras redeem¬
able at will. After the restoration of the Bourbons,
however, Ferdinand I., with the exception of compulsory
migration, which is at an end, re-established the old
system, by taking the land from those who had been in
full possession of it for ten years, by making rents and
charges irredeemable, and by forbidding the ploughing up or
planting of any part of the land without an express licence
from the crown. The collection of the taxes, which are
calculated to bring about L.70,000 a year, is confided to a
magistrate called the Direttore del Tavoliere, who is also
the governor of the province of Capitanata.
The Sicilian system prevails in Sicily, and the continental
provinces of Bari, Otranto, and Calabria. The general rota¬
tion is—First year, fallow or summer crop; second year,
hard wheat {gram rosso) ; third year, a lighter kind of
wheat {maiolica) ; fourth year, oats. Cotton is sometimes
planted the fourth year; and of late years rice has been
introduced in the marshy districts. But olive, almond, fig,
and orange trees, and vines, form a more important branch
of the cultivation. More than one-half of Terra di Bari and
Terra d’Otranto, and great tracts of the western shores of
Calabria, are covered with olive-trees, which are propagated
by slips, by shoots, and chiefly by grafting the wild olive
either in situ, or, if transplanted, a couple of years after it
has taken root. It takes at least twenty years before an
olive plantation begins to bear a satisfactory return. The
flowering of the olive-trees begins towards the end of May,
but the fruit is not ripe till November. Except in very
few favourite spots, the olive-tree does not give a yearly
return. A plantation is considered very good if it brings a
tolerable quantity of frtfit every other year ; generally a Sicilies,
good return is only every third year. The vineyards are
very extensive, but the vines are not trained in festoons,
as in the provinces of Naples, Terra di Lavoro, &c., but
low, as they are in the south of France.
The area of the continental provinces is supposed to
contain about 20,220,516 English acres, of which only
11,430,972 acres are reduced under cultivation; the re¬
maining 8,789,544 acres being occupied by waste land,
lakes, rivers, buildings, roads, &c. The peasants who cul¬
tivate the land, though receiving on the whole small wages,
are not badly off, except in Capitanata, in Basilicata, and in
some other mountain districts. In many districts they are
commonly metayers, dividing equally with the lord or the
farmer the annual produce; but where the soil is peculiarly
fertile, the peasant has but one-third of the harvest for his
share. Most of the soil wras formerly owned by the crown,
the king, the higher aristocracy, and the religious houses;
but a great change has taken place since most of the mort¬
main lands w ere seized by the state on the suppression of
convents and nunneries in-1806, and afterwards sold. The
abolition at the same time of entails and the new laws of
succession increased the number of landowners, by the
breaking up of large estates; the tendency at present
seems rather to be towards too great a subdivision of pro¬
perty, particularly near the large towns.
The principal productions of the country include all those
of the temperate, and several of the torrid zone. In most
years more corn is grown than is required for the consump¬
tion of the inhabitants—the full year’s average of the crop
being estimated at about 14,000,000 English quarters. It
might, how’ever, be tenfold increased by bringing into culti¬
vation some of the rich land of the plains which are now a
waste, if the constant practice of the government of prohibit¬
ing exportation of corn whenever its price is not low, did not
effectually check that branch of agricultural industry. Oil is,
next to corn, the most important agricultural production. It
is the substitute for the butter made in northern Italy, and
enters largely into all the edible preparations of the inha¬
bitants. It is generally used in lamps, to supply the place
of candles, and a large quantity of it is converted into
soap. The best oil for culinary purposes is made out of
the olives before they turn black ; that of Vico and Massa
near Naples, of Venafro in Campania, of Trani and Mo-
nopoli in Apulia, and of several other places in Calabria
and Sicily, is in high repute. The oil-mills are the
same as those used in ancient times, and are generally at
work from November to March, and in years of great re¬
turns even till May. The oil, as it is prepared, is sent to
different places of depot along the coast, where it is col¬
lected for exportation, and is deposited in large subter¬
ranean tanks excavated in the limestone rock, where it
clears, and keeps, if necessary, for many years. The quan¬
tity of oil deposited by a proprietor is guaranteed by a ticket
which is given to him, and upon which he may borrow
money, and eventually effect the sale of the article.
The vine is extensively cultivated, but so little care is
bestowed in the selection of the varieties in planting it, and
so little skill is exercised in the preparation and treatment
of the wines, that a large quantity of the produce is only fit
to be converted into brandy. Under different circum¬
stances the Two Sicilies might supply the whole market of
Europe with wine, as vineyards might be increased to any
extent, and capital and skill are all that are required to pro¬
duce excellent wines. An illustration of this is given by
two English houses established at Marsala, in Sicily, that
prepare wine of tolerable quality and flavour, and of durable
strength, which, under the name of Marsala, has found its
way in considerable quantity into the English market.
Several local wines, however, in spite of the unskilful way
in which they are prepared, are excellent, and strong
SICILIES.
Sicilies, enough to bear a sea-passage, and only require to be
-mJ known to be appreciated. Such are the Pellagrello of
Piedimonte, the red and white Gerace, the red laranto,
the Muscat of Trani, the Aleatico of Bari, the red Arpino,
the Capo di Lecce, the Monte di Procida, the Syracuse, the
red Giro, the white Torre del Greco, the red Somma, &c. &c.
Both on the continent and in Sicily much silk is pro¬
duced, but little beyond what is required for domestic con¬
sumption. In late years the cultivation of the mulberry-
tree has increased, but the same skill and diligence is not
applied to it as in Lombardy and Piedmont, tigs are ex¬
tensively cultivated, and their fruit, dried in the sun in
September, and in some places, baked afterwards in an
oven, is an article of winter food to the lower classes.
Another article of food are chestnuts, which are sup¬
plied by the sweet chestnut-forests that clothe extensive
tracts of the mountain districts. Almonds form an im¬
portant item of the productions of the province of Bari.
The liquorice-juice brought to the English and French
markets is extracted from the liquorice-root that grows wild
in many districts of Calabria. The average annual growth
of cotton wool is about 80,000 bags, a quantity far below
the home consumption. Flax and hemp, wool, cheese,
tobacco, saffron, manna, raisins and currants, oranges,
lemons, capers, caroubas, sumac, madder-root, castor-oil,
beans, rice, honey, &c., are the other principal agricultural
productions of the kingdom.
The live stock is supposed to be nearly as follows:—
sheep, 4,700,000; goats, 720,000; oxen and cows, 360,000;
buffaloes, 50,000; horses, 110,000; mules and asses,
890,000; pigs, 2,400,000. About two-thirds of the whole
number of sheep are migratory, being kept, as already
stated, in the mountains in summer, and in the plain of the
Tavoliere in winter. They are shorn twice a year, totally
in the spring, and only partially in the summer. 1 he
wool varies in quality, but is in general good, and most of
it is exported. But the chief return to the farmer is from
a kind of ordinary cheese made from the milk of the ewes.
Cows’ milk is made into butter only near Naples, Palermo,
and a few other large towns; generally it is converted into
a kind of cheese called Caciocavallo and Provole. The
oxen are commonly used to plough the land, and to draw
waggons or carts. The horned cattle in the Terra di
Lavoro, in Terra d’Otranto, and the S.W. of Sicily, are
white, very large and splendid-looking animals. Buffaloes
are used as beasts of draught, and their milk is made into a
kind of very ordinary cheese. Mules abound in the provinces
of Otranto, Abruzzi, Principato Ultra, and Sicily ; they are
used for ploughing, for drawing carts, but chiefly for the
internal traffic over paths across mountains ; in some of the
provinces they are even used in the carriages of the upper
classes and the clergy. Some of the breeds of horses are
fine, especially those reared in the Tavoliere, in the plain
of Paestum, and in Calabria; but they have much fallen off
in consequence of a heavy tax laid on their exportation in
the last century, and the present prohibition of importing
foreign horses. The swine are generally black, though
the white are not uncommon; at Sorrento, and in other
places further south, they are devoid of bristles.
The manufactures of the kingdom are for the most part
of the domestic kind. The females spin the flax, hemp, wool,
or cotton, and make coarse cloths, with which the condition
of the great body of the lower classes compels them to be
satisfied. Within the last forty years, however, consider¬
able progress has been made, and large manufactories of
various kinds have been established in different parts of the
country. At San Leucio, at Catanzaro, at Reggio, at
Naples, and at Catania, silk goods are made, which are in
great demand, and Sorrento is celebrated for its silk socks.
Arpino, Sora, and Isola have paper-mills and manufactories
of woollen cloths, made of Apulian wool. Near Salerno,
VOL. xx.
249
at Sarno, at Scafati, &c., there are cotton-mills, linen and Sicilies,
calicut manufactories, &c. Carpets are made at Ischia, and
in the neighbourhood of Naples. Amalfi, Gragnano, and
Torre Annunziata are celebrated for their macaroni. The
best quality of it is made from the hard wheat grown
on the Tavoliere (the grano rosso of Barletta), which is
reduced to flour by the usual process of grinding. At
Atripalda there are iron-foundries, fulling and paper mills.
Leather, hardware, glass, earthenware, porcelain, ropes and
cordage, hats, gloves, artificial flowers, &c., though of in¬
different workmanship, are also made in several towns.
Many of the continental provinces have Monti Frumen-
tarii, which, in aid of agriculture, lend wheat to farmers at
the sowing time on a small return in kind after the harvest.
In most large towns there is also a Monte di Pietd, or
government pawn-bank, which lends small sums at 5 per
cent, to the poor ; but there are no saving banks, as their
operations would interfere with the Lottery revenue. The
only saving bank in the kingdom was opened at Naples in
1855, and in 1857 it had L.1525 of deposits in 479 accounts.
It receives sums from 4d. upwards, and when they reach
3s. 4d. it allows an interest of 3 per cent.
Accounts are kept in ducats of 10 carlini or 100 grani
each ; but the currency is in 'piastre of 12 carlini. The
carlino, at the exchange of 600 grani to L.l, is equal to 4d.
The palmo, equal to lO'SS inches, is the unit of the mea¬
sures of length. 10 palmi form the new canna, and 8
the old canna, still in common use. The mile is the geo¬
graphical mile of 60 to a degree. The measures of capacity
vary almost in every province, the standard measures of late
years prescribed by government not being yet in general use.
No country in Europe has so little foreign trade, in pro¬
portion to its extent and population, as the Two Sicilies ; but
the absence of any official statistical returns renders it im¬
possible to give a correct account of its nature and amount.
The mercantile navy of the continental possessions, in
1825, consisted of 5008 ships, and 107,938 tons; in 1855
it had increased to 8988 ships, and 212,965 tons. The
chief emporium of the trade is Naples, to which the
greater portion of the spare products are brought by small
coasting-vessels, and whence also are dispensed what foreign
commodities are required. The other principal places where
there is some foreign trade are—Castellammare, Reggio,
Taranto, Gallipoli, Bari, Molfetta, Barletta, Manfredonia,
and Termoli. Sicily in 1856 had 2300 ships, and 123,775
tons, of which the greatest portion belonged to Messina and
Palermo. Next in importance are Catania, Trapani, Mar¬
sala, and Castellammare.
The imports of the continental provinces, in 1856, were
estimated at about L.2,744,760; and the exports at
L.3,353,513, showing a surplus of 808,753 in favour of the
latter. The principal articles of importation were—cot¬
ton yarn and cotton wool, sugar, woollen manufactures,
tobacco, coffee ; and the chief articles exported—oil, corn,
wheat, silk, madder-root, wool, almonds, and fresh and dried
fruits. With respect to the various countries, and in the
order of their respective importance, the largest imports
were—from England, France, America, Holland, Sardinia,
&c. And the exports to France, England, Austria, Russia,
Holland, Sardinia, &c.
We have more reliable information wfith regard to the
existing trade between this country and the Two Sicilies,
the nature and extent of which will be shown by the sub¬
joined abstract tables, from the official statistical returns of
the trade and navigation of the United Kingdom, presented
to both Houses of Parliament by command of her Majesty.
It will be seen that the imports from the Two Sicilies,
which in 1854 were of a computed real value of L.l,411,457,
in 1858 had risen to L.l,656,523. The increase of the
exports thereto is even more remarkable. From L.672,291
in 1854, they had steadily risen in 1858 to L.l,787,300.
2 i
250
SICILIES.
Sicilies. The most important articles of importation, in 1858, were—
oil, L.601,651; brimstone, L.452,202; sumac, L.121,179;
madder-root, L.103,386; oranges and lemons, L.72,044 ;
wine, L.41,585 ; and the principal articles of exportation—
cotton yarn, L.489,686; ditto, by the yard, L.352,068; ditto,
atvalue, L.13,601; iron, wrought and unwrought,L.228,850;
woollens by the yard, by the piece, and at value, L.l 65.070;
hides,not tanned, L.74,791; indigo,L.73,474; coals,cinders,
and culm, L.52,420; linen by the yard, L.38,220; linen yarn,
L.22,949; steam-engines and machinery, L.41,088.
Imports from the Tivo Sicilies into the United Kingdom.
Quantities.
Articles.
Cwts.
Argol  Cwts.
Barilla Tons
Bones 
Brimstone  Gluts.
Corn—Wheat Qrs.
„ Beans  „
„ Maize  „
Cream of Tartar Cwts.
Hemp, undressed  „
Juice of Lemons, 1
r • o r\ t kails.
Limes & Oranges )
Liquorice-Juice &
Paste 
Madder-Root 
Nuts, small Bushels
Oil, Olive Tuns
Oil,Essent.—Bergam.L&s.
„ „ Lemon „
Oranges & Lemons.
Seeds, flax & linseed... Qrs
Shum ac Tons
Silk, Raw Lbs
„ Waste, Knubs, 1 ^
and Husks-. )
„ Thrown Lbs.
Yermicelli & Ma¬
caroni 
Wine  Gallons
Wool, Sheep &Lambs’L&s.
All other articles ...Value
Cwts,
Total.
1858.
2,079
688
031
1,067,387
12,290
97
9,250
12
163,493
7,010
55,198
13,728
12,912
36,254
60,939
145,967
2,796
11,019
8,503
128
8,933
1,066
184,060
84,985
Computed Real Value.
1854.
4,555
1,160
6,205
364,753
4
118,387
79,460
9,484
30,043
71,580
6,285
303,105
9,866
15,202
39,079
38,113
135,984
11,264
1,979
31,484
448
77,985
7,894
47,238
1,411,457
1856.
L.
8,211
4,426
4,618
366,519
69,120
4,872
53,090
6,740
10,848
31,566
132,187
8,592
313,789
17,352
20,864
63,296
1,381
184,680
2,519
12,394
23,821
3,136
56,051
14,993
90,517
1,505,582 1,656,523
1858.
L.
7,368
12,039
5,043
452,202
2i,652
158
38,210
20
11,466
31,909
103,386
9.105
601,651
13,512
18,659
72,044
7,451
121,179
12,104
1,655
15,083
2,671
41,585
3,705
52,666
Exports from the United Kingdom to the Two Sicilies.
Home Produce and
Manufactures.
Apothecary Wares... Cwts.
Apparel Slops, & 1 ^
Haberdashery... )
Coal, Cinders, & Culm Thus
Copper, wrought & 1 CwU
unwrought )
Cottons—
Entered by the Yard Yds.
„ at Value... Fa foe
Cotton Yarn Lbs.
Earthenware and ) T7 .
Porcelain | Value
Fish, Herrings Barrels
„ Pilchards Hhds
Hardwares& Cutlery Cfo/te
Iron, wrought and 1 T
unwrought J 10m
Linens Yds.
Linen Yarn Lbs.
Machinery—
Steam-Engines Value
All other sorts  
Saltpetx-e Civts.
Silk Manufactures...Fafoe
Sugar, refined Cwts
Tin Plates and Tin  
Woollens—
Entered by Pieces...Pieces
„ by the Yard Yds.
„ at V alue... Value
All other articles....
Total.
Quantities.
1858.
Value
106,973
6,393
21,571,582
13,420,717
4,240
4,526
4,450
31,246
848,699
333,010
1>42
2^581
40,283
1,691,947
Declared Real Value.
1851.
L.
1,650
1,892
29,495
9,491
137,800
6,392
165,140
4,603
52
10,897
83,757
16,612
5,816
3,550
5,767
974
5,125
'7,508
22,861
30,258
1,588
11,805
185G.
L.
2,790
6,327
41,048
18,488
286,088
8,668
329,621
7,558
3,370
4,375
22,282
194,471
29,954
13,682
1,741
6,482
3,338
14,069
52,144
16,068
40,227
63,556
8,102
27,734
563,033 1,202,183 1,569,166
L.
4,233
10,582
52,420
34,108
352,068
13,601
489,646
7,815
4,240
11,631
23,615
228,850
38,220
22,949
28,045
13,043
3,558
8,251
7,683
19,373
73,480
81,840
9,750
30,165
Exports from the United Kingdom to the Tivo Sicilies. ®^cdies.
Foreign and Colonial Pro¬
duce and Manufactures.
Cochineal Cwts
Cocoa Lbs.
Coffee 
Cotton, Raw Civts.
Hides, not tanned .... .
Indigo  
Spirits, Rum...Proof Galls.
Sugar, Unrefined. ...Cwts,
Tobacco, Unmanu-1 r,
factored ) s
Wax, Bees’ Civts.
All other articles.... Value
Total  
Grand Total
Quantities.
98
293,034
76,985
362
21,306
2,122
148,207
676
122,535
860
Computed Real Value.
1854.
L.
789
456
1,522
26’065
15,018
18,887
7,410
14,718
12,167
12,226
109,258
672.291
1856.
L.
648
802
4,534
1,308
62,013
50,392
23,714
146
9,621
13,941
30,806
197,925
1,400,108
1858.
L.
2,065
7,326
2,168
1,213
74.791
73,474
15,716
1,114
4,430
7,192
28,645
218,134
1,787,300
The internal trade of the country has increased con¬
siderably since the opening of many excellent carriage-
roads. In the beginning of this century there were only
the post-road from Naples to Terracina, the roads from
Naples to the royal hunting-parks of Venafro, Bovino, and
Eboli, and the road from Palermo to Bagheria. Several
roads were projected and begun under the French, chiefly
with a view to military operations; but most of the great
roads now open have been constructed since 1815.
Five high post-roads start from Naples for Terracina,
the Abruzzi, Molise, Puglia, and Calabria, reaching, with
their main trunk or their branches, the capitals of all
the fifteen continental provinces, and some of the capi¬
tals of the districts. The road of the Abruzzi branches
at Popoli into two main lines, both of which enter the
Papal territory ; one inland, by Civitaducale and Rieti,
the other along the Adriatic by Porto-di-Fermo and An¬
cona. Another inland road, by San Germane, enters the
Papal States at Ceprano. All these roads are constructed
with remarkable engineering skill, and are in excellent con¬
dition. They are kept up at the expense of the state. The
provincial roads which start from the capital of the province
to the chief town of the district, are open and kept up at
the expense of the provincial funds, and the communal
roads at the expense of the different communes interested
in them. There are no tolls of any kind. There are many
provincial roads projected, but not even begun, and the
communal roads open are very few, except in the province of
Terra-di-Bari, where internal roads open communications
among the principal towns. As an illustration of the great
want of roads still existing, it may be mentioned that there
is no direct road connecting Brindisi to Taranto, the two
principal ports on the Adriatic and the Ionian; none from
Taranto along the shore of the Ionian Sea to Castrovillari
and Cosenza; none from the eastern to the western shores
of the province of Basilicata; none from Foggia to Melfi,
&c. &c. In Sicily, the only public roads open to traffic are
—from Palermo to Messina, with a branch to Catania; to
Castrogiovanni; to Marsala by Alcamo ; to Castellammare,
along the coast; to Termini and Cefalu; to Girgenti by
Caltanissetta; and from Messina, along the eastern base of
ACtna, to Catania and Syracuse, with a continuation from
the latter place inland to Noto. The only railways open
are, from Naples—a line of 26 miles to Cava, with a
branch of 4 miles to Castellammare; a line of 22 miles
to Caserta and Capua, with a branch of 8 miles to Nola
and Sarno.
Till January 1848, the government of the Two Sicilies
was, in theory as well as in practice, an unmixed absolute
monarchy; but on the 10th of February of that year, a
constitutional charter was freely granted by the late king
Ferdinand II., which restrained the previously unlimited
S 1 C I
Sicilies, powers of the sovereign. The principal provisions of the
charter are—
The Two Sicilies will be a constitutional hereditary mo¬
narchy, in which the executive power belongs exclusively
to the king, and the legislative power is collectively exer¬
cised by the king, and a Parliament, composed of two houses,
an upper and a lower one.
The king has the command of the army, declares war,
and makes peace; he also negotiates treaties of commerce
and alliance, subject, however, to the approval of parlia¬
ment previous to their ratification. All his acts must be
countersigned by a responsible minister.
The Upper House, or Camera dd Pari, is composed of
an unlimited number of members nominated for life by the
king, from among persons at least thirty years old, who
either are in possession of a net income of L.500 a year,
or belong to one of the ten categories enumerated by the
charter. The princes of the royal family are peers by
right at the age of twenty-five, but have no vote till they
are thirty years old. The upper house is the high court
to try any member of parliament for high treason.
The Lower House, or Camera dd Deputati, is composed
of deputies returned by the electoral districts into which
the kingdom is divided; there is a deputy returned for
every forty thousand inhabitants. Both the deputies and
their electors must be at least twenty-five years old. They
must have from landed property, from mortgages, or in the
public funds, a net yearly income, fixed by the electoral
law of May 24, 1848, at two pounds for the electors, and
at twenty pounds for the deputies; or, in the absence of
such an income, they must be members of one of the royal
academies, professors in one of the universities or public
colleges, &c. The duration of the lower house, unless
dissolved sooner, is five years.
Parliament is to meet every year, and in case of a dis¬
solution of the lower house, a new house must be summoned
within three months. Neither peers nor deputies receive
any salary or indemnity. The sittings of the chambers
are public; no sitting is valid unless an absolute majority
of their members are present. Each of the three powers
of the state has a right of introducing bills, but all money
bills must first be introduced in the Lower House. No
tax can be imposed or levied without its having previously
been assented to by the houses and sanctioned by the king.
No other religion but the Roman Catholic is to be allowed
a free exercise. The charter guarantees individual liberty
and property; any person imprisoned as a precautionary
measure must, within twenty-four hours, be brought before
the proper judicial authority, and acquainted with the mo¬
tives of his imprisonment. No one’s domicile can be entered
without a warrant of the judicial authority. The press is
to be free, but subject to a repressive law for any attacks
against religion, morality, public order, the royal family,
foreign sovereigns and their families, and the honour and
interest of any private person. Judges are irremovable
after they have exercised their functions for three years
under the constitution. The ministers of the crown are
entitled to attend the debates and speak in either house,
whenever they deem it expedient; but they have no vote
unless they are members. Any member of the lower house
who takes office under government vacates his seat, but
may be re-elected.
A parliament was summoned, and met under this con¬
stitution, in June 1848; it was prorogued in September,
and met again in February 1849. On the 13th of the fol¬
lowing March, however, a royal decree dissolved the lower
house, reserving the naming of a day for proceeding to the
new elections, according to the charter. From that time
parliament has never been summoned; the constitution,
without being formally annulled, or even suspended, has
remained in abeyance, and the old despotic practices
LIES. 251
have been resorted to. The kingdom of the Two Sicilies Sicilies,
is thus in the anomalous and perhaps unique position of
being in theory a constitutional government, in practice
and de facto the most thoroughly despotic and arbitrary
government in Europe.
The administration, as it was previous to 1848, and as,
in defiance of the constitution, it has been ever since March
1849, consists of—a council of state (Consiglio di Stato),
a council of ministers CConsiglio dd Ministri), and a coun¬
cil general for the kingdom (Consulta Generale del Regno).
The Consiglio di Stato has an unlimited number of mem¬
bers, appointed directly by the king, in order to give their
opinion, when required, on any subject relating to the inter¬
nal affairs or foreign relations of the country. Their meet¬
ings are presided over by the king, or the heir-apparent,
if of age, or the president of the council of ministers. The
functions of this council, which has a certain resemblance
to our privy council, are merely consultative, and do not in
any way bind the king or his ministers to any course of policy.
The Consiglio dd Ministri, which answers to our Cabi¬
net, consists of the ministers-secretaries of state, and is
presided over by the president of the cabinet. Their reso¬
lutions are submitted to the king, in a conference between
him and each minister within whose department the respec¬
tive subject under discussion lies, and cannot be carried
out until they have received his royal sanction. In the
absence, or non-appointment of a minister, the correspond¬
ing director takes his place at the council, and in the con¬
ference with the king. There are ten ministries, each of
them called Real Secreteria di Stato :—Presidency of the
Council, Foreign Affairs, Grace and Justice, Ecclesiastical
Affairs and Public Instruction, Finances, Public Works,
War and Navy, Home, Police, Affairs of Sicily.
The Consulta Generale del Regno is divided into a con¬
sulta for Naples, with 16 members; and a consulta for
Sicily, with 8 members. Each consulta has a president,
and meets separately; but on affairs affecting the whole
kingdom they meet together under the senior president.
They examine and give an opinion on projects of law, or
on such other matters as may be referred to them by the
king or any of the ministers. The consulta was established
in 1822, as a security for the good government of the
country; but like all such half or evasive measures, it
neither had any legislative influence, nor produced any
good results whatever.
The supreme executive power of the king is carried out
through two distinct branches—the Administrative and the
Judiciary power. Their different attributions and respec¬
tive limits were defined by the organic law of 1817. The
system is in substance the same as the French; the differ¬
ence is chiefly in the details.
In the provinces the former power is represented by a
governor, called Intendente, who is appointed by the king,
and has in his hands the civil, military, and financial admi¬
nistration of the province over which he presides. He is
assisted by a secretary-general and a council called Con¬
siglio d'Intendenza, and has under him sub-governors,
called Sottintendenti, in each district into which the pro¬
vinces are divided. The secretary-general, the members
of the council, and the sottintendenti, are also appointed
by the king. A provincial council, Consiglio Provinciate,
consisting of members selected by the king out of lists of
landed proprietors, submitted to him by the communal
councils, assemble once a year to examine the provincial
accounts, recommend local improvements, and praise or
censure the conduct of the Intendente.
The Sottintendenti of the districts carry out the ordi¬
nances and instructions of the Intendente, to whom they
report on the petitions or grievances of the comuni, and corre¬
spond both with the intendente and the home minister. A dis¬
trict council {Consiglio Distrettuale), composed as the pro-
SICILIES.
252
Sicilies, vincial council, meet? once a year in order to examine and re-
i ^ ^ port to the provincial council on all matters of local interest.
The Comuni, into which each district is divided, are
arranged in three classes, with a view to their administra¬
tion. Towns which have at least 6000 inhabitants, or a
revenue of L.833 per annum, or are the provincial capital,
or the seat of the law-courts, rank in the first class. In
the second are those with a population of from 4000 to 6000
souls, or the chief town of the district. In the third, those
that have less than 4000 inhabitants. A comune is either
a single town, or an aggregate of two or more towns or
villages ; there are comuni whose population is made up by
as many as 24 villages. Each comune is governed by a cor¬
poration of very ancient institution, consisting of a Sindaco,
two assistants called Eletti, and a communal council called
Decurionato. The sindaco superintends the registration of
marriages, births, and deaths, which are entered by a com¬
munal registrar (Cancelliere Comunale), under his orders ;
has the control of the public establishments, and the ma¬
nagement of minor communal affairs; has to provide the
commissariat of the troops passing through, and, in the
absence of a military commissary, even of those quartered
in, the comune; has jurisdiction in some minor causes of
communal police, obstructions of roads, occupation of public
ground, &c., presides over the decurionato, and corresponds
with the Sottintendente and the Intendente. The eletti act as
his deputies, and as commissioners of the communal police;
the prices and order of the daily market are under the vigi¬
lance of the first eletto. The decurionato, which meets
once a month, unless specially summoned by the sindaco,
forms (subject to the approval of the king in comuni of the
first, of the home minister in comuni of the second, and of
the Intendente in comuni of the third class) the communal
budget, fixes the local rates and taxes for communal pur¬
poses, gives the three names out of which the sindaco and
the eletti are to be appointed, and submits to the king the
names of the proprietors whom they consider eligible for
the provincial and district councils. Two-thirds of its
members must be present to deliberate.
The sindaco and the eletti are selected by the king or
the home minister, according as the comuni belong to the
first and second, or to the third class, out of three names
(Terna) submitted by the decurionato for each of them.
If the names are not satisfactory to the authority, the decu¬
rionato is directed to submit a new terna. The decurionato
is generally composed of three members for every thousand
inhabitants, but their number must never in the large cities
exceed thirty, and in the small comuni be less than five.
Landholders, farmers, artisans, &c., are all eligible, pro¬
vided they are possessed of a rateable annual income of
L.4, or have exercised a liberal profession for 8 years
consecutively, in the comuni of the first class; or have an
income of L.3 and L.2 respectively, or occupy a farm of a
certain size, or exercise a profession or trade in the comuni
of the second and the third class. One-third of them at
least must be able to write and read. One-fourth of them
go out annually, and the lists for the new members (with
three names for each member) are formed by the decurio¬
nato itself, by ballot, and submitted for selection to the king
or the home minister.
Questions relating to commons, communal property, pub¬
lic roads, rivers, lakes, and the sea-shores; questions con¬
cerning taxes and excises, or the accounts of their collec¬
tors, or of communal and provincial cashiers, &c., all fall
within the attribution of the administrative power, and
are decided in the first instance by the Consiglio d’lnten-
denza of the province in which the question arises, and in
appeal by the Court of Accounts of Naples or that of Pa¬
lermo, as the case may be. The decision of the latter
court, however, cannot be carried into execution unless it
is approved by the king in council, who sometimes, before
sanctioning or modifying the decision, sends it, on the ap- Sicilies
plication of one of the interested parties, to the Consulta
del Regno for their opinion.
All other matters and questions whatsoever affecting
things and persons fall within the attribution of the judi¬
ciary power, and are regulated by a Code of Laws {^Codice
pel Regno delle Due Sicilie) promulgated by Ferdinand I.
in 1819. It is, in substance, the Code Napoleon, which
Joseph Buonaparte introduced into the continental part of
the kingdom in 1807. Divorce, recognised by the Code
Napoleon, is expunged from the Neapolitan Code, and
marriage is regulated according to the canons of the Council
of Trent. The other principal changes are with regard to
parental authority, the relations between husband and wife,
legitimate succession, and mortgages. With respect to suc¬
cession, any person who has issue is allowed to dispose by
will only of one-half of his whole estate, including both real
and personal property; the other half must be equally
divided among his, or her, children or grandchildren. With
this difference, however, that, if any of the children are
alive, the grandchildren succeed per stirpes—that is to say,
they altogether take and divide among themselves the share
which their parent would have been entitled to; but if the
children are all dead, and there are surviving only grand¬
children, the latter succeed per capita—that is, they take
an equal share each of their grandfather’s inheritance.
Natural children are entitled only to two-thirds of what as
legitimate children they would have taken ; adulterine
issue is only entitled to alimony. In case of intestate suc¬
cession, the whole property is equally divided, according to
the same rules and proportions.
The magistrates appointed to administer justice are very
numerous, and their respective jurisdiction is defined by the
organic law of 1817 (Legge Organica del Potere Giudiziario).
They are all appointed by the king, badly paid, and, in the
present illegal suspension of the constitution, removable at
his pleasure. The lowest among them is the Conciliatore,
who is appointed in each comune from among the in¬
habitants, including ecclesiastics, receives no salary, and,
acting as an umpire, decides without appeal all actions for
sums below L.l. In each district there is a judge [Giudice
'd'Istruzione), whose duty it is to collect evidence against
criminals, and transmit it to the local courts for prosecution.
The districts are divided into Circondarii, of which there
are 720 in the kingdom ; and in each of them there is a
justice of the peace (Giudice di Circondario), whose salary,
besides some small fees, is from L.4 to L.6 a month, and is
paid by the comunes of the Circondario. He decides
all civil actions, without appeal, to the amount of L.3, 7s.,
and subject to appeal to the amount of L.50; all ques¬
tions arising in a market, or regarding trespasses; all in¬
fractions of the revenue laws ; and all cases of correctional
police, whose punishment does not exceed two years’ im¬
prisonment. He also collects and reports upon the evi¬
dence of local crimes, and has the general control of the
police, where there is no police inspector. In each pro¬
vince there is a civil court ( Tribunale Civile), and a cri¬
minal court {Gran Corte Criminale). The civil court,
composed of a president, two other judges, a royal pro¬
curator, and a chancellor, takes cognizance in first in¬
stance, and subject to appeal, of all civil actions exceeding
L.50; of questions affecting the state of persons, and of
mercantile actions in those provinces that have no commer¬
cial tribunal; it also decides, as a court of appeal from the
justices of the peace. The criminal court, composed of a
president, five judges, a procurator-general, and a chan¬
cellor, decides upon graver criminal cases, except military
offences, and revises, on appeal, the judgments of the jus¬
tices of the peace in cases of correctional police. In the
provinces of Naples, Capitanata, Calabria Ultra I., Messina,
and Palermo, there are commercial courts (Tribunali di
't
SICILIES.
Sicilies- Commercio), having a president and three judges, chosen
from the class of merchants, and a royal procurator and a
chancellor. They have jurisdiction in commercial cases,
without appeal, up to LA, and subject to appeal beyond
that amount. There are six civil courts of appeal {Gran
Corti Civili) sitting at Naples, Aquila, Trani, Catanzaro,
Messina, and Palermo, and consisting of a president, six
judges, a procurator-general, and a chancellor. They de¬
cide, in the last instance, upon the appeals from the judg¬
ments of the civil and commercial courts which fall under
their jurisdiction. Above all these courts is a Court of
Cassation, called CorteSuprema di Giustizia, which for Sicily
is held at Palermo, and for the continental provinces at
Naples, and consists of a president, two vice-presidents,
sixteen judges, a procurator-general, two advocates-general,
a chancellor, and two vice-chancellors. It is divided into
a civil and a criminal chamber, each with a president, eight
judges, an advocate-general, and a chancellor. All judg¬
ments from which there is no appeal may be denounced by
the interested party to the Supreme Court, on the plea of
their being against the law, whose articles alleged to have
been infringed must be specified. The court, if there is
any violation of the law, quashes the judgment, and sends
the contending parties before another judge of circondario,
civil or commercial tribunal, criminal court, or civil court
of appeal, as the case may be, for a new hearing and a new
judgment upon the question. For certain particular cri¬
minal cases, eight judges of the ordinary criminal courts
are by royal commission invested with special powers, and
formed into a special court {Gran Corte Speciale), from
whose judgment there is neither an appeal to a superior
court nor a recourse to the Court of Cassation. There are
also a military court {Alta Corte Militare), composed of
generals appointed by the king, and an admiralty court
{Commissione delle Prede Marittime).
From this long list it might be inferred that justice has
a fair chance in the Two Sicilies, and yet nothing would
be farther from the truth. The total absence of a jury, in
civil as well as criminal cases, leaves both the finding of
the fact and the application of the law in the uncontrolled
hands of the judge. But the evil is to be traced to other
causes. Ever since the establishment of the present
system, the smallness of the salaries, as compared with the
profits made at the bar, had contributed to keep away from
the bench the best legal minds, whose absence, however,
was often made up by common sense and moral principles.
Whilst the leading lawyers are likely to make from L.2000
to L.4000 a year, the salary of the President of the
Supreme Court, who is the chief-justice of the kingdom, is
only L.650 d year! Nothing but death stops the prosper¬
ous career of an honest barrister or chamber counsel who
has once established a reputation ; a judge, even after
having through many years toiled his way up to the
highest courts, may be, and often is, turned out and left
unprovided lor whenever individually or collectively he
pronounces a judgment distasteful to the government. Of
late years the political troubles have increased the evil to
an incalculable degree. The criminal courts receive from
the head of the police, or from the king’s private cabinet,
the list of obnoxious persons who are to be condemned for
state crimes, irrespective of any evidence. Any resistance
to their bidding is visited with immediate destitution. The
Official Neapolitan newspaper teems with instances of it.
Ihus, in 1850, the Criminal Court of Cosenza was broken
up, and recomposed twice before the government could
obtain the conviction of several hundred prisoners against
whom there was no evidence; and in the trial of Poerio
and his friends, a trial so well known in this country, con¬
viction was secured only by the substitution of several
judges. Nor is this all. After the abolition of the consti¬
tution of 1821, a circular from the minister of justice in-
253
culcated on all the judges in the kingdom that, in the decision Sicilies,
of all civil questions, a deference should be shown towards
the parties who were loyal to the despotic system. This
injunction, against which the moral sense of the country
had rebelled and had caused it to be forgotten, was reite¬
rated in 1851. The result of all this has been, that
men with any sense of morality, of self-respect, and of
independence, keep away from an office which would ruin
them in every way. Only a set of poor, unprincipled,
ignorant men, who have nothing to lose and all to gain, have
consented to be the tools of the government. The scum
of the bar has filled the bench. Many an upright man in
his old age has been placed in the fearful dilemma of either
departing from justice or meeting starvation to himself and
his family. Under these circumstances a set of Jeffreys
might be found in any country ; and the paternal govern¬
ment of Ferdinand II. so well fostered them that Neapolitan
justice is become a byeword among nations, and a disgrace
to civilised Europe.
A large army, in part of foreign mercenaries, naturally
is required to maintain this outrageous system. On the 1st
of January 1859, the military establishment, including the
reserve, the marines and the veterans, numbered 2825
officers, 96,805 soldiers, of whom about 14,000 were Swiss
mercenaries, and 8843 horses. The effective part of the
army consisted of 2509 officers, 80,029 soldiers, and 8543
horses. The national regiments are raised by conscription
from 18 to 25 ; a substitute may be obtained by a payment
of L.40 to the government. The period of forced service
is eight years in the cavalry, artillery, and gendarme regi¬
ments ; five years in the line, with three years’ liability to
be called again in case of emergency. The Swiss regi¬
ments were recruited in Switzerland in force of a stipula¬
tion passed with some of the Cantons in 1827. When that
stipulation expired, the enlistment took place on the Swiss
frontiers. In the course of 1859, a spirit of insubordina¬
tion having appeared among them in consequence of their
being deprived of their national flag, many of them were
dismissed and sent home ; but as many other foreign cut¬
throats were enlisted to fill their ranks in the regiments,
which have received different names. They receive one-
third more than the Neapolitans, and have mattrasses,
which are not given to the latter.
The navy has of late years been increased and much
attended to. It consists of 2 ships of the line of 80 guns
each; 5 frigates of from 60 to 40 guns ; 2 corvettes of 22
guns; 5 brigs of 18, and two sloops of 14 guns ; and a
steam squadron composed of 2 frigates of 400 horse-power
each, 10 of 300, 4 of 200, and about 20 more of less
power. The number of seamen is about 5000, and that
of the marines and artillerymen about 7400.
As no regular budget is ever published by the Neapolitan
government, the real financial state of the country is in
great part a matter of conjecture. The following par¬
ticulars, however, without laying claim to strict accuracy,
are as near an approximation to it as, in the absence ol all
official returns, it is possible to obtain.
Under the French rule, 1806-15, all the creditors of
the state who were not paid by the sale of public domains
or monastic property, were entered into a registry called
Gran Libro del Debito Publico, and allowed an interest of
3 per cent, on what was due to them. Such was the origin
of the funded debt of the country, which, when the French
left the kingdom in 1815, was only L.4,666,680, paying
an annual interest of L. 140,000. 1 he restoration ot the
Bourbons increased this debt by more than L.3,500,000,
L. 1,000,000 of which were paid for an Austrian army of
occupation from 1815 to 1817. In consequence of the
political events of 1821, two new loans were contracted
amounting to about L. 15,000,000, of which L. 14,000,000
were required to pay the expenses of an Austrian army
254
SICILIES.
Sicilies, which entered the kingdom and put down the constitution.
—On the 1st of January 1848, the savings effected by the late
king during many years of peace had reduced the public
debt, by means of the sinking fund, to L.l3,526,836, pay¬
ing an annual interest of L.674,800 ; but in the course of
that and the following year the government, without the
concurrence of parliament, issued L.5.749,334 of fresh
stock, bearing interest at 5 per cent., of which L.2,416,000
were for Naples, and L.3,333,334 for Sicily. The whole
funded debt of the kingdom in 1859 may be set down at
L.16,959,000 for Naples, and L.3,316,000 for Sicily; total,
L.20,315,000, bearing an annual interest of L.960,000.
The revenue in 1858 was reckoned about L.5,300,866,
the expenditure about L.5,410,680, leaving a deficit of
L.109,814, which was met by various schemes. In 1831
the revenue was L.4,441,667, and the expenditure
L.4,976,000. In 1847 the former was L.4,657,l7l, and
the latter L.4,604,868, leaving a surplus of L.52,303.
The subjoined table will give an idea of the
Chief Items of the Public Revenue and Expenditure
in 1858.
Revenue.
Land-tax  L.l,205,670
Communal, Twentieth   23,560
Customs, excise, tobacco, salt, snow, gun¬
powder, playing cards, etc  2,186,560
Stamps and registers  232,450
Lottery  325,447
Game licences  5,220
Post-office  30,226
Mint and coinage   14,800
Public domains, sinking fund, discount bank.. 206,500
Royal printing office  2,500
Railroads  39,120
Percentage on salaries of civil and military
officers    159,000
Passports     1,050
Charitable trusts’ property   164,500
Share of Sicily towards the common expenses 674,263
Miscellaneous  30,000
Finances.
Public
Works.
Home
Office.
Police
Navy.,
Army
/ Office expenses     6,475
Civil list and royal house¬
hold (without including
income from crown lands) 307,040
Interest of public debt  960,000
Pensions, etc  278,420
Custom-house, excise, and
other indirect taxes  256,540
Stamp and registration
offices  84,560
Post-office  38,650
Lottery   32,500
Railway   16,800
Sinking fund and domains... 16,580
Mint  15,200
Miscellaneous (chiefly for
V collection of taxes)   241,655 /
' Office expenses  4,800
Prisons, dungeons, and
Ergastoli  108,250
Public roads and bridges’
department  130,530
Harbours, etc  22,850
Land improvement depart¬
ment   15,860
Provincial public works  30,680
Miscellaneous  10,150
’ Office expenses  9,100
Civil administration, viz.,
intendenti, sotto-inten-
denti, etc  28,500
Charitable trusts  42,150
- Public health  5,120 -
Scientific and artistic esta¬
blishments   1,450
Woods & forests, & game .... 8,340
Miscellaneous and extra¬
ordinary   126,560
2,254,420
324,120
221,220
32,860
372,820
1,954,340
Total  L.5,410,680
Revenue   5,300,866
Total
L.5,300,866
Deficit.
L.109,814
Presidency.
Foreign
Affairs.
Grace and
Justice.
Ecclesiastic
Affairs.
Public In¬
struction.
Expenditure.
‘ Office expenses   L.5,500 j
Private secretaryship of
the king   800
Royal printing office  4,500
Orders of knighthood   3,500 J
’ Office expenses   7,050
Salaries of ministers and
consuls abroad  35,500 -
Cabinet messengers  1,800
Miscellaneous & unforeseen.. 5,000 _
Office expenses   8,200
Supreme Court of Justice... 10,500
Courts of appeal   15,500
Criminal courts  33,000
Civil tribunals  17,000
Offices of the courts and
tribunals  26,600
Tribunals of commerce  600
Consulta of state   11,400
Miscellaneous  6,500 _
' Office expenses   5,500
Support of churches and
curates   1,000
Charities to religious orders 720
Repairs of churches  650
Festivals, missions, etc  660 _
Office expenses  3,260
Theatres & public spectacles 11,800
Royal Museum, public li¬
braries, institutes of the
fine arts   18,240 -
Public instruction, universi¬
ties, colleges, etc  10,320
Provincial instruction ex¬
penses   4,800 _
These tables, even if they were less accurate than we
take them to be, would always give a great insight into the
L.14 300 state the country, and the moral principles which guide
its government. It will be seen that nearly one-sixteenth
part of the whole revenue is derived from that most ob¬
jectionable of all indirect taxes, lottery. The charitable
trusts’ property (Fondi della Publica Benejicenza), which
49,350 jn course 0f ages ilas accruecJ from donations or be¬
quests intended to be employed for the relief of the poor,
gave an income of L. 164,500 ; but of this sum only
L.42,150, or less than one-third, were invested according
to the original intentions of the donors and testators.
More than one-sixth of the revenue goes to pay the
130,300 interest of a public debt, chiefly incurred for the support
of a foreign army called in to check the liberal aspirations
of the people.
The army and navy expenses absorb L.2,327,160, or more
than one-half of the whole revenue, whilst only L.324,120
are spent for public works, and L.48,120 for public instruc¬
tion. In the department of public works, however, are
8,530 included prisons and dungeons, the maintenance of which
costs the country L.108,500, or a third of the amount classed
under that head, and nearly as much as is spent in the
salaries of all the judicial bench in the kingdom. And
what is even more remarkable, among the expenses for
public instruction we find an item of L.l 1,800 for theatres
and public spectacles, leaving for the purposes of the public
48,420 instruction only a sum of L.36,620, in which the ex¬
penses for the maintenance of the Museo Borbonico, the
public libraries, and the Institute of the Fine Arts, as well
as the office expenses, are included! The expenses of col-
S I C I
icilies. lection and administration of the revenue amount alto-
gether to about 14T9(j-ths per cent.
By the Concordat of 1818 between Pius VII. and
Ferdinand L, it was stipulated that no other religion but
the Roman Catholic should be allowed a free exercise.
There are about 2400 Jews, but they are allowed neither
to hold property nor to acquire a domicile. The eccle¬
siastical establishment, which was formerly very extensive,
having been somewhat reduced by the Concordat by
the union of several of the smaller sees, consists at pre¬
sent of 22 archbishoprics, 19 on the continent and 3 in
Sicily ; 85 bishoprics, 72 in the continental and 13 in the
Sicilian provinces; 5 abbacies, and 88 clerical seminaries.
The archiepiscopal sees are, in Naples—Acerenza and
Matera, Amalfi, Bari, Benevento, Brindisi, Chieti and
Vasto, Capua, Conza, Cosenza, Gaeta. Lanciano, Manfre-
donia, Napoli, Otranto, Reggio, Rossano, Salerno, San
Severino, Sorrento, Taranto, Trani; in Sicily, Messina,
Monreale, Palermo. The abbacies are, in Naples, Monte
Casino, Trinity della Cava, Montevergine; in Sicily,
Monreale, San Martino. The archbishops of Naples,
Capua, and Palermo, on being appointed to their sees, re¬
ceive a cardinal’s hat. Each diocese has its own adminis¬
tration, composed of the bishop as president, two senior
canons, elected every three years by the chapter of the
diocese, and an assessor. In every diocese there is a semi¬
nary for the education of young men intended for the church.
The monastic and mendicant orders, which were par¬
tially suppressed in 1807, were restored by Ferdinand I.
on his return in 1815. Their numbers, of both sexes, are
reckoned at present about 40,000.
The Concordat of 1818 received several important modi¬
fications in June 1857 ; not, however, by a new concordat,
but by royal decrees revocable at pleasure. The jurisdic¬
tion of bishops was greatly extended ; the trial of ecclesias¬
tics for ordinary crimes was given to their respective eccle¬
siastical court; members of collegiate or cathedral chap¬
ters, curates, and members of religious communities, were
granted the privilege of being buried in their own churches;
article 826 ot the code of civil laws, requiring the royal
assent to any bequest in favour of a religious corporation,
was abrogated, and public instruction was more completely
placed under the control of ordinaries.
Public education is entirely in the hands of the priests,
and is at a lower stand in the I wo Sicilies than in any part
ot Italy; the attention of the government being directed
not to ibster, but to check it in every way. It has already
been noticed that the item for public education in the
budget is L.48,420, out of which L.l 1,800 are spent on
theatres and other amusements.
By a law of Murat, in 1810, elementary schools were
established in all the communes, for the sake of the primary
education of boys and girls, who were taught reading, writ¬
ing, arithmetic, geography, and the principles of religion;
the girls also knitting and sewing. Since 1821, and more
since 1848, most of those schools have been closed, or placed
under the care of the parish priest, who entirely neglects
them. In the capitals of some of the provinces there are
royal colleges, superintended by the Jesuits, in which
young men of the middle classes are educated. The course
of studies consists of Latin, and sometimes Greek, mathe¬
matics, and elements of history and geography. In the semi¬
nal ies young men intended for the church are taught Latin,
metaphysics, and theology. The professors are all priests,
and under the vigilance of the ordinary. Private teaching
is forbidden, unless the teacher satisfies the ordinary, and
the head of the local police, of his attachment to the throne
and his abhorrence of new ideas, and receives from each of
them an express permission to give lessons. Till very re¬
cently, there were four universities, at Naples, Palermo,
essina, and Catania, all of old foundation, for the higher
LIES.
255
branches of knowledge, and the conferment of academical de¬
grees ; the former frequented by the young men of the con ¬
tinental provinces, the three latter by the Sicilians. But. as
the concourse of many youths to Naples was a subject of
alarm to the government, by a royal decree of April 1857, it
was provided that only the young men of the two provinces
of Naples and Terra di Lavoro should be allowed to go and
take their degrees at the university of Naples ; the others
are compelled to take them in the colleges of their respec¬
tive provinces. Ihis decree, somewhat justifiable in prin¬
ciple, if there was no compulsion, and if there were means
of obtaining a suitable education in the provinces, is calcu¬
lated greatly to lower the standard of learning in the coun¬
try ; for it is only in Naples that able professors for the
higher branches of knowledge can be obtained.
I he superintendence of the public instruction of the
whole kingdom is vested in two boards, Giunte della Publica
Istruzione, one of them at Palermo, the other at Naples,
and both under the control of the minister of religion and
public instruction. Each Giunta is composed of a presi¬
dent, generally a bishop, and six members appointed by the
king from among the professors of the university.
The whole kingdom is divided into 22 provinces, of which
15 include the continental possessions, and 7 the island of
Sicily. Each province is divided into districts, distretti,
and each district into circondarii; a circondario consists of
one or more communes; some communes are an aggregate
of several villages. The city of Naples is divided into 12
and Palermo into 6 circondarii. There are altogether 77
districts, 720 circondarii, and 2210 communes. There is
no reliable census of the kingdom, the official returns that
are occasionally published being very unsatisfactory. The
last returns were published in 1856. A survey of the
kingdom, begun under the French, having made as yet
but little progress, the numbers given as the area of each
province must be considered as merely an approximation.
The following table shows the name, extent, and population
of each province, and the population of the chief towns :—
Provinces.
Area in
square
miles.
Population
of
1856.
Capitals.
Naples.
1. Naples 
2. Terra di Lavoro...
3. Abruzzo Ultra I
4. Abruzzo Ultra II..
5. Abruzzo Citra....
6. Molise, or Sannio
7. Principato Citra..
8. Principato Ultra...
9. Capitanata 
10. Terra di Bari 
11. Tea?ra d’Otranto...
12. Basilicata 
13. Calabria Citra 
14. Calabria Ultra II..
15. Calabria Ultra I...
Total 
Sicily.
16. Palermo  
17. Messina 
18. Catania 
19. Noto 
20. Caltanissetta.
21. Girgenti 
22. Trapani 
Naples.
Total...
326
1,959
976
1,908
840
1,422
1,670
1,064
2,359
1,743
2,504
3,134
2,160
1,704
1,152
24,921
1,500
1,048
1,332
1,120
900
1,040
1,027
850,450
774,523
239,429
355,683
323,574
376,935
580,660
373,736
332,294
538,103
431,949
517,354
452,766
395,029
334,872
6,877,357
7,967
24,971
32,938
541,326
384,664
411,832
254,593
185,531
250,795
202,279
2,231,020
6,857,357
9,088,377
Napoli 
Caserta 
Teramo 
Aquila 
Chieti 
Campobasso.
Salerno 
Avellino 
Foggia 
Bari 
Lecce 
Potenza 
Cosenza 
Catanzaro....
Keggio 
Palermo 
Messina 
Catania 
Noto 
Caltanissetta.
Girgenti 
Trapani 
Population
of
1856,
409,658
15,800
8,600
9,700
17,000
10.400
18,000
23,000
24,000
28,000
19.400
12,000
14,000
13,200
16,000
200,000
108,000
60,000
14,200
18,500
22,400
26,000
Sicilies.
The first enumeration of the inhabitants of the conti-
256
SICILIES.
Sicilies, nental part of the kingdom was ordered by Alfonso I. of
Aragon, for the purposes of taxation, and was finished in
1465. It was found that there were 232,896t/?rcA-, or fami¬
lies, which, calculated at the rate of six heads per family,
gave 1,397,376 souls, and with the addition of 250,000 for
the city of Naples and its suburbs, a total of 1,647,376.
The increase from that time, as far as it can be ascertained,
was as follows :—
1595.
3,628,500
1768. 1788.
4,029,620 4,815,000
1816.
5,114,613
1825.
5,545,804
1835. 1845.
6,013,171 6,451,406
1855.
6,858,357
By comparing these numbers, it will be seen, that in 40
years, from 1816 to 1855, it has increased a little more
than one-third, and that it would, therefore, take about 120
years to double it. During that period, however, the steady,
though slow, increase was checked three times, in 1817,
when an epidemic spotted fever caused the number of
deaths to exceed that of births by 142,887, and in 1836-37,
and 1854-55, when the cholera caused altogether a dimi¬
nution of 82,964 in the births, as compared to the deaths.
The slow increase from 1788 to 1816, being only 1-16th in
28 years, is accounted for by the civil and foreign wars,
and the revolutions to which the country was a prey during
part of that time. The population of Sicily in 1505 was
reckoned at about 600,000. In 1615 it had nearly doubled,
being 1,107,234; but after a century, in 1714, it was only
1,133,163. In 1825 it was 1,714,000, and in 1854, 2,231,020,
showing an increase of about one-third in thirty years,
which would cause it to double in less than a century.
On the 1st of January 1856, the population of the whole
kingdom was 9,088,377.
The various states which form the kingdom of the Two
Sicilies played an important part previous to the rise of the
Roman power. Though the existing records of their early
history are very scanty and unsatisfactory, yet enough re¬
mains to prove that some of the small independent states
into which Southern Italy was divided had attained great
intellectual development and material prosperity. Some
antiquaries have seen traces of Phoenician settlers in several
places at a very remote period; but there is no doubt that
that high degree of civilisation in the country was owing
to the numerous Greek colonies which, between the eighth
and the seventh centuries B.C., if not earlier, had settled
in Sicily, and on the shores of the Tyrrhenian, the Ionian,
and the Adriatic Sea, which hence had the name of Magna
Graecia. An account of those colonies, and an admirable
relation of the great Athenian expedition against Syracuse
in b.c. 427, and its disastrous results, may be found in
Grote’s History of Greece, vols. iii. and viii. The conquest
of the continental provinces by the Romans, which may be
said to have begun with the first Samnite war in B.c. 343,
was completed with the final defeat of Pyrrhus, near Bene-
ventum, in 225, who had been called in to their assistance
by the Tarentines, and the fall of Tarentum three years
later. The possession of Sicily was the subject of a long
and obstinate contest between the Romans and the Car¬
thaginians ; its total submission and reduction into a Roman
province was only accomplished by the taking of Syracuse
by Marcell us in b.c. 212, and the surrender of Agrigentum
to the Consul Laevinus in 210.
At the dissolution of the Western Roman empire, Sicily
and Naples fell first under Genseric and Odoacer, and at
the defeat of the latter by Theodoric, under the Goths,
until Justinian, through his generals Belisarius and Narsis,
regained the whole of Italy, and put an end to the Gothic
kingdom in 553. The Greeks, however, did not long en¬
joy their conquest. The Longobards descended into Italy
under Alboin, in 568, and extended their conquests into
Southern Italy, where they founded the powerful duchy of
Benevento. The wdiole of the present kingdom of Naples
with the exception of a few cities along the coast which
remained under the Greeks, and the towns of Naples, Gaeta,
and Amalfi, that erected themselves into independent re¬
publics under dukes appointed by the Greek emperors, fell
under the dukes of Benevento for nearly 200 years. In
the ninth century, whilst that Duchy was weakened by in¬
ternal feuds, and by the erection of the independent Longo-
bard principalities of Capua and Salerno, there was added
a new element of confusion and disorder, in the depreda¬
tions that were carried on by the Saracens, who hail first
landed in Sicily in 827, and in a few years conquered the
whole island from the Greeks. From Sicily the Saracens
began their attacks on the continental shores, seized Bari
and other important cities, and strongly fortified them¬
selves in several places. The incursions of the Hungarians,
and the occasional arrival of German hordes under the
successors of Charlemagne, contributed to increase the
state of general confusion, constant warfare, and anarchy.
In the midst of these struggles a new element appeared
in the field. The Normans, who had already made them¬
selves conspicuous in the north of Europe, found their way
to the south. The two conquering races of the middle
ages, and the representatives of the Roman empire in the
East, the Saracens, the Normans, and the Greeks, first met
on the classic soil of southern Italy, and northern strength
and daring gained the victory.
In the beginning of the eleventh century a body of Nor¬
mans offered their assistance to Sergius, the Greek duke of
the city of Naples, against Pandulf, the Longobard prince
of Capua. As a reward for their past and a guarantee for
their future services, they received a tract of land midway
between those two cities, where, in 1030, they established
themselves and built the city of A versa, of which their
leader Rainulf was the first count. The news of their
success soon brought other bodies of bold and greedy ad¬
venturers from Normandy, with the twelve sons of Tancred,
Count of Hauteville, at their head. After at first joining
sometimes the Longobards and sometimes the Greeks
against each other, or against the Saracens, at length they
began to fight on their own account, and soon acquired
such power that, at a general assembly they held in the
city of Matera in 1042, they proclaimed William Bras-de-
Fer, eldest son of Tancred, Comes Apulice. He was suc¬
ceeded in 1046 by Drogo, and in 1050 by Humphrey, his
brothers.
The successes and the rapacity of the Normans, who
did not respect the property of churches and monasteries,
alarmed Pope Leo IX., who proclaimed a sort of crusade, and
led in person against them a large army of Italians, and some
Germans contributed by the Emperor Henry III. Leo
began his campaign by a pilgrimage to the monastery of
Montecasino, whence he descended into the Apulian plains.
In vain the Normans, who were but few in number, sued
for peace ; the Pope was inexorable. The two armies met
on the plain near Civitate, on the right bank of the For-
tore, on the 18th of June 1053. Despair gave the Norman
arm additional strength ; the motley crowd brought together
by the preaching of the monks fled in utter disorder; Leo
himself fled to Civitate, but, being refused shelter by the
inhabitants, fell into the hands of his enemies. The crafty
Normans, however, far from making him a prisoner, knelt
as they approached, imploring his pardon and benedic¬
tion, and treated him in their camp with so much respect
that Leo soon was reconciled to the race, and, as if the
kingdoms of the earth were the Pope’s, granted to the
brothers Humphrey and Guiscard, their leaders, an inves¬
titure not only of what they were already masters of, but
of the whole of Apulia, Calabria, and Sicily, which they
might wrest from the Greeks and the Saracens. Leo was
canonized at his death.
The battle of Civitate is a most important event in Italian
SICILIES.
Sicilies, history. It not only firmly established the Norman power,
and led to the foundation of the kingdoms of Naples and
Sicily, but originated that memorable investiture, which, by
causing the Popes to claim Naples and Sicily fiefs of the
Holy See, and apply to them the rules of feudal law, led to
their constant interference in the affairs of the country, and
to the changes of dynasties through their instrumentality ;
it became, in short, the clue to great part of the history
of the Two Sicilies. It was also owing to the alliance of
interests formed after that battle, that, when Pope Gregory
VII., in his famous contest with the Emperor Henry IV.,
was defeated, and besieged in the castle of St Angelo,
Robert Guiscard went with his Normans to release him,
and pillaged and burned the whole of Rome from the
Lateran to the Capitol.
Robert Guiscard, who succeeded Humphrey in 1057,
having conquered Calabria from the Saracens and the
Greeks, in 1059 assumed the title of Duke of Apulia and
Calabria, and in 1085 transmitted his power to his son,
Roger Bursa, whose son William died without issue in
1127. Meanwhile Roger, a younger son of Tancred of
Hauteville, had conquered the island of Sicily from the Sa¬
racens, and assumed the name of Great Count, which he
transmitted to his son Roger, who became the founder of
the monarchy. Roger, on the death of William in 1127,
succeeded to the dukedom of Apulia and Calabria, of which
he obtained the investiture from Pope Honorius, by con¬
firming to the Holy See the possession of Benevento, which
Leo IX. had obtained from the Emperor Henry III. in
1050, in exchange for Bamberg. In 1130, on making
himself master of Naples, at a general parliament assembled
at Salerno, he resolved to assume the title of King of Sicily
and Apulia; and the antipope Anacletus, who was anxious
to secure Roger’s support against his competitor, Pope In¬
nocent II., with a bull of September 1130, gave him the
corresponding investiture.
As a summary of the whole history of the country, into the
details of which the limits of this article forbid us,to enter,
we give at the end a chronological table, showing the various
dynasties from the establishment of the monarchy to the
present day, the duration of the reign of each sovereign,
and when Naples and Sicily were united under the same
ruler, and when governed by different kings.
Roger made Palermo the royal residence, and at his death
transmitted the crown to his son William, surnamed the
Bad, who was succeeded by his son William, surnamed the
Good. At the death of the latter in 1190 without issue,
the Emperor Henry VI., of the house of Hohenstaufen,
claimed the kingdom in right of his wife Constance, the
daughter of Roger. The Sicilians, however, abhorring Ger¬
man rule, chose Tancred, a natural son of a son of Roger,
and, on his premature demise, his son William, a minor.
Henry invaded the country, and exercising great severity,
reduced it to his authority, and compelled William III.,
in whom the Norman dynasty ended, to abdicate. Henry
did not enjoy long his conquest; his widow, Constance,
governed the country for a year, and at her death, in 1198,
She left her son, afterwards emperor of Germany (as Fre¬
derick II.), then only three years old, under the regency of
Pope Innocent III., who entrusted the education of Fre¬
derick to four national bishops, and checked several at¬
tempts at insurrection of the powerful barons. At the
death of Innocent III., in 1215, the strange alliance be¬
tween a Pope and the head of a Ghibeline family was
broken, and a long contest began, which ended in the ex¬
tinction of the house of Hohenstaufen, and the establish¬
ment of the Angevine dynasty at Naples.
Frederick was born at lesi, and though of a German
family, he was in language, character, and affections an
Italian. He encouraged learning, and founded schools and
universities. He was fond of literature and poetrv, and
VOL. XX.
257
spoke with equal facility Latin, Greek, Italian, German, Sicilies,
french, and Arabic. It was at his court in Sicily that the ^ ^
Italian language, hitherto regarded only as a corruption of
Latin, first rose to importance, and was polished by the
poets, who were encouraged by him to make use of it.
Some of the earliest poetry in Italian is by Frederick him¬
self, and his sons Manfred and Enzo. He had a taste for
philosophy, and great independence of opinion; but his
want of faith in the sacred character of the Roman Church
and the sanctity of popes, whose temporal encroachments
he was compelled constantly to withstand, countenanced
the attack of infidelity brought against him by the Guelf
party. Cruelty, though not more than usual at that age,
ambition, a suspicious disposition, and great partiality for
.the Saracens, whom he found useful in opposing the Court
of Rome, were the leading faults of his character. He
restored order in the 1 wo Sicilies, and established a pros¬
perity not to be found elsewhere in Europe at that time.
The Constitutiones Sicilice, a body of statutes, which he
enacted at different times, chiefly by the advice of his famous
secretary, the great and unfortunate Pier delle Vigne, to
whom refer these beautiful lines of Dante—
“ lo son colui che tenni ambo le chiavi
Del cor di Federico, e che le volsi,
Serrando e disserrando, si soavi
Che dal segreto suo ogni altro uom to!si”—
{Inferno, xiii., 58)
are a monument of legislative wisdom far beyond his age.
We find him, among other things, abolishing as a barbarous
custom the droit d’aubaine, or seizure by the state of the
property of a stranger, not naturalized, at his death—a
practice abolished only in our own times by some of the
most civilized nations.
In 1225 Frederick married lolanda de Lusignan, heiress
of the kingdom of Jerusalem, from whom the kings of
Naples inherited the title of kings of Jerusalem. Aftei
thirty years of almost unremitting contest with the popes
and the Guelf party, which wore out his bodily as well as
mental energy, Frederick died, only fifty-six years old, in
December 1250, in the castle of Fiorentino in Capitanata,
anathematized by the church, and broken-hearted at the
treason of many whom he believed his friends, the disasters
of his party, the decline of his power, and the refusal of the
Bolognese to set at liberty his favourite natural son Enzo,
whom they had made a prisoner in 1249.
Conrad, his son, had a very short reign, and died in
1254, leaving an only child, Conradin, in Germany. Man¬
fred, another natural son of Frederick, assumed then the
government of the country, at first as guardian of Con¬
radin, and afterwards, on the false reports of Conradin’s
death, in his own name.
Manfred became the leader of the Ghibeline party, and
more obnoxious than ever to the Popes, who resolved to get
rid of such an unfriendly neighbour. At length, Urban IV.,
who was raised to the Papal chair in 1261, and was an in¬
veterate enemy of the house of Suabia, excommunicated
and deposed Manfred as a usurper, and; availing himself
of the feudal authority claimed by the Holy See, offered
the Sicilian crown for sale among the princes of Europe. It
was ultimately handed over as a fief, on a yearly tribute of
8000 ounces of gold, to Charles of Anjou, the brother of
Louis IX. of France.
Urban did not live to see the fulfilment of this arrange¬
ment, which however, after his death was furthered by
every temporal and spiritual means at his disposal, by his
successor, Clerment IV., who was by birth a proven9a!, and
greatly devoted to the house of Anjou. Urged on by the
restless ambition of his wife Beatrice, a daughter of Ray¬
mond Berenger, last Count of Provence, whose three elder
sisters were married to the sovereigns of England, France,
and Germany, Charles arrived in Rome in December 1265,
2 K
258 SICILIES.
Sicilies, with an army composed of the flower ot the knights of Palermo went, according to their custom, to hear vespers Sicilies.
^ France and on the 1st of January 1266, was crowned by at a church outside the town, where they gathered in
the cardinals as king of the Two Sicilies. After a short stay great numbers, and, with a mixture of gaiety and religion,
he entered the kingdom ; and having had the frontier strong- enjoyed dancing and eating. Among them was a girl of
holds of Ceprano Arce,and San Germano surrendered by the great beauty, with her parents and her acknowledged lover,
treachery of their commanders, he marched upon Bene- A Frenchman, called Drouet, under pretext that she carried
vento where Manfred was encamped with his army. Charles arms concealed under her dress, seized her, and thrust his
save battle the same day, February 26. The valour of hands into her bosom. The girl fainted away in the arms
the Swabian and Saracen followers of Manfred was not of her betrothed, who, enraged, exclaimed, “ Oh, let
proof against the impetuous attack of the French and the us kill these French !” His voice was not raised in vain,
treacherous desertion of his Apulian barons. Manfred fell An unknown youth fell upon Drouet and killed him, and
in battle, and his remains, on account of the anathema he himseli was instantly put to death by the other French-
ao-ainst him, being denied Christian burial, were at first men. A thousand voices from the assembled crowd
buried under the bridge of Benevento, and afterwards, at exclaimed, “Death to the French!” and the fight be-
the instigation of the Archbishop of Cosenza, removed into came general. A dreadful massacre ensued, in which all
a lonely Galley of the Tronto, beyond the frontier of the the French wTere put to death. In their rage the inhabitants
kino-dom. Every reader of Dante is familiar with the beauti- sacrificed all, not excepting the aged, the females, and the
ful passage alluding to Manfred in Purgatorio, iii., 124. children; and even those women who had connected them-
Scarcely had Charles been two years in the possession of selves with Frenchmen were likewise murdered. This
his throne when young Conradin, the son of Conrad, ad- horrible event has ever since been known by the name of
vanced at the head of an army from Germany, and sup- the Sicilian Vespers. The other cities of Sicily, with the
ported by the Ghibeline cities of Lombardy, to attack him. exception of Sperlinga, followed the example set at Palermo,
The hostile armies met on the plain of Tagliacozzo on the and wherever a Frenchman could be found he was instantly
22d of August 1268. Victory seemed at first to be for put to death.
Conradin; but whilst the youth was rejoicing in the camp Charles, on receiving the horrible intelligence, hastened
over his success, Charles sent against him a fresh detach- from Orvieto, where he was on a visit to the pope, to
ment which he had kept in reserve, and the day was com- Naples, and having collected his whole forces, prepared to
pletely lost. Conradin succeeded in escaping, but was pass over to Sicily. In July he appeared before Messina,
betrayed into the hands of Charles by a Frangipani, an old and at first gained some advantages; but the spirit of the
follower of the Hohenstaufen, with whom he had sought inhabitants was so roused that they defended themselves
refuge. Taken to Naples, and subjected to a mock trial, with the most energetic courage, even the women and
Conradin, the last scion of the Hohenstaufens, the descen- children partaking with the men in the dangers as well as
dant of emperors, at the age of seventeen, by the advice of the privations and sufferings of a siege. _ *
the Pope, perished, together with his cousin Frederick of Soon after the breaking out of the insurrection, a kind
Austria, by the hand of the executioner, in the Piazza del of federal republic had been proclaimed under the patron-
Mercato at Naples, on the 29th of October 1268. From age of the Church of Rome; but the hostility of the Pope,
his scaffold he called his heir Constance, daughter of Man- who lent spiritual and temporal support to Charles, and the
fred ; and, challenging an avenger, he flung his glove news of the first reverses at Messina, caused the parliament
among the’crowd, winch was picked up and faithfully con- assembled at Palermo to offer the Sicilian crown to Peter
veyed to Peter of Aragon, her husband. Charles disgraced of Aragon, who was with a considerable army on the
himself by personally assisting at the execution. By such African coast. Peter at once accepted the offer, and on
means was the Angevine race established in the Two Sicilies, the 30th of August landed at Trapani, and thence pro-
After the utter annihilation of the Swabian party on the ceeded to Palermo, where he was received with rapturous
continent, Charles wreaked his vengeance upon the island joy. Charles, disturbed by this occurrence, became also
of Sicily, which had declared in favour of Conradin. alarmed for the state of Calabria, and having instantly
Augusta and other towns, which offered some resistance, embarked his troops, leaving his military stores behind
wei^ destroyed and all their inhabitants slaughtered, and him, sailed across the strait; but before he reached the
the whole island was ruled with an iron sceptre. The continent his fleet was attacked by that of Peter, under
oppressed and discontented people applied to the Pope for the command of his admiral, Roger de Loria, who captured
redress, but without effect. Upon this John of Procida, twenty-nine of his vessels, and then ravaged the coast of
a nobleman from Salerno, whose estate had been confis- Naples. Peter was received with exultation in Messina, and
cated on account of his strong attachment to the Hohen- assumed the government, although the pope issued a bull,
staufens, resolved to put an end to the sufferings of Sicily, placing him and the Sicilians under the ban of the church.
In execution of his plans of revenge, he first applied to The next year Constance arrived with her sons, and was
Peter of Aragon, who showed a disposition to assist him, acknowledged as the legitimate inheritor of the crown,
but could do nothing from the want of pecuniary means. Although Charles continued to make attempts to regain
Procida undertook to^procure those means, and first visited his authority in Sicily, they were all unavailing; and the
Sicily, where he found all prepared to resist Charles, and two kingdoms were separately ruled during a hundred and
where he encouraged the hope of revenge. He then pro- sixty years. .
ceeded to Constantinople, and presented himself to the Robert, the grandson of Charles, who in succession filled
Emperor Michael Pakeologus, who had been alarmed by the throne of Naples in the year 1309, was a patron of
Charles with threats of invasion, and from whom he obtained letters, and the friend of Petrarch and Boccacio. After
promises of a large sum to be sent to Aragon. Having re- his death, in 1343, in the reign of his granddaughter Joanna,
ceived the money, he returned to Peter, who immediately great commotions broke out in Naples. She had married
commenced warlike preparations, on the pretext of making Andrew of Hungary, who was murdered at A versa, not with-
an attack upon the Moors in Africa. out strong suspicion that his wife had been participator in
Whilst these warlike preparations were going on, the the crime. Owing to this charge, the Pope, Urban VI.,
arrogant and oppressive behaviour of the French gave rise conferred the crown of Naples upon Charles of Durazzo,
to a sudden outburst of popular indignation, which put an a Hungarian, who had married a sister of Joanna. He
end to their misrule in Sicily. On the afternoon of Easter was a short time acknowledged as king of Naples and
Tuesday, the 31st of March 1282, the inhabitants of Hungary; but was assassinated in the latter kingdom in 1386.
SICILIES. 259
Sicilies. At his death, two competitors for the crown appeared in
v—^ Naples ; Ladislaus, his son, and Louis of Anjou, an adopted
or illegitimate son of Joanna. Ladislaus, after some
struggles, conquered Louis. He also made himself at one
time master of Rome, and aimed at the sovereignty of all
Italy; but his projects were terminated by death in the year
1414. His sister, Queen Joanna II., at first adopted King
Alfonso of Aragon as her heir, but afterwards by her will
called to the throne Rene of Anjou, who succeeded her.
Alfonso, however, who was the heir of the Hohenstaufens
through the female line, and was already king of Sicily,
attacked and expelled Rene from the kingdom, put an end
to the Angevine dynasty, and reunited Sicily and Naples.
The dominion of the house of Aragon, after the death of
Alfonso, was a period of misery to the country. Wars
were frequent and destructive, the exchequer was impov¬
erished, and the most noble and influential families were
crushed, especially after the conspiracy of the barons,
headed by the Count of Sarno and Antonello Petrucci.
The descent of Charles VIII. into Italy gave the first blow
to the dynasty of Aragon, which was at length overthrown
by a combination of France and Spain.
By the treaty of Granada, signed November 11, 1500,
and confirmed by Pope Alexander VI. and a conclave of
cardinals in the following year, Ferdinand the Catholic of
Spain, and Louis XII. of France, agreed to divide the king¬
dom of Naples between them. The treaty provided that
the King of France should possess the city of Naples, the
Terra di Lavoro, the three Abruzzi, and half the revenue
produced by the Tavoliere di Puglia, with a confirmation
of the title of King of Naples and Jerusalem, which he had
previously assumed. On the other hand, the King of Spain,
who had for many years been king of Sicily as the suc¬
cessor of his father John II., was to possess the three
Calabrias and Apulia, and the remaining half of the revenue
of the Tavoliere, with the title of Duke of Calabria and
Apulia. The possession of the provinces not mentioned in
the treaty soon led to a war between the contracting parties.
Hostilities commenced in June 1502, and in little more than
eighteen months the French were defeated in four battles,
and the whole kingdom, by the military genius of Gonsalvo
de Cordova, became, like Sicily, a Spanish possession.
During the two succeeding centuries, both portions of
the kingdom of Naples remained under the government of
the kings of Spain. The parliaments, which had originated
with the Normans, and were occasionally convened both in
Naples and in Sicily, fell into desuetude, or were only sum¬
moned to vote money. The feudal system grew worse, an
extension of their privileges, especially the power of life
and death over their vassals, being granted to the barons
with a view of securing their service in the wars, and their
votes of money. The city of Naples had almost the whole
administration of the kingdom centred within itself, but
under the absolute control of the viceroy. By such means
the power of the crown was gradually extended. The im¬
position of new taxes, and the oppressive modes of enforcing
the payment of them, led sometimes to turbulent scenes in
the capital, most of which were speedily suppressed; but
one of them was of so singular a character as to deserve a
short relation.
In the year 1647 it was thought necessary to impose
some tax upon all fruit sold in the city; which, being in
summer the chief food of the poor, caused great uneasi¬
ness, but no immediate insurrection. A fisherman, named
Masaniello, whose wife had been recently detected in smug¬
gling some flour into the city, and fined for it, had con¬
ceived an implacable hatred against the suggesters, the
farmers, and the collectors of the new tax. He was a
powerful speaker, and a leader of one of the parties ot the
populace who had agreed to have a sham fight upon a fes¬
tival. On that day, the 7th of July, in consequence of a
quarrel between the tax-collectors and some fruit-sellers Sicilies,
from Pozzuoli, one of wdiom was a brother-in-law of Ma-
saniello, the latter first roused the populace, and excited
them to destroy the office where the tax was collected, and
the dwellings of those who had proposed or farmed it.
In the course of the rioting, the viceroy, instead of order¬
ing the Spanish guards to suppress the disturbance, fled,
and was personally insulted ; but at length he escaped to a
sanctuary, where the archbishop joined him, and they con¬
jointly issued a notice that all taxes on provisions should
be abolished. Besides this, an attempt was made to gain
Masaniello by an offer of a pension. But he refused to
accept the offer, declaring that if the viceroy kept his word
he would find the people obedient subjects.
On the following day, however, no taxes being abolished,
the followers of Masaniello committed some violent out¬
rages, which induced the viceroy to enter into a kind of
treaty with this leader, who, though half naked and in rags,
found himself at the head of 100,000 armed men, filled
with fury. Some of his followers having been bought over
by the court, agreed to kill him; and whilst he was in treaty
with the archbishop, in the church of the Carmire, the
attempt was made; but it failed, and those who were thus
shown to be traitors to their chief were instantly put to death.
The failure of the attempt greatly strengthened the power
of Masaniello, who exercised it with much appearance of
fairness and impartiality. The viceroy was fearful that the
French might take advantage of the commotion, and create
some annoyance, and therefore hastened to make peace
with the leader of the insurrection. On the fifth day after
it broke out, a treaty was concluded, by which it was stip¬
ulated that the taxes imposed since the reign of Charles V.
should all be abolished ; that in future no new taxes should
be levied except by electors; that the people were to elect
as well as the nobles; that an act of oblivion should be
passed, and the people remain in arms till the ratification
of the treaty was completed.
Great rejoicing followed this arrangement. Masaniello
having repaired to the viceroy, was appointed captain-
general, and induced to change his dress for more appro¬
priate apparel; he also received a present of a gold chain.
The following day he began to exercise the authority of a
sovereign, judging all crimes, whether civil or military, and
ordering to instant execution, on a gallows he had erected,
those whom he had doomed to death. It is said that in
these summary proceedings no innocent person suffered,
and no guilty person escaped.. His grandeur was but of
short duration. In two or three days he became distracted
and delirious, and committed some most extravagant ac¬
tions; and on the 18th of July he was put to death, with
the consent, if not by the orders, of the viceroy.
The tumult did not, however, terminate with the death
of its author. In the capital, as well as in all the other
cities of the kingdom, the people rose and drove out those
Spaniards who were found in them. Ihe Duke of Guise,
who happened to be at Rome, was induced, at the instiga¬
tion of the pope, to offer his services to the Neapolitans
against the Spaniards; and to this he was further encou¬
raged by having some distant pretensions to the throne.
The Spaniards, in the meantime, made a vigorous attack on
the city of Naples, but were repulsed by the people, who
thereupon formally renounced their allegiance to the Spa¬
nish family. In a short time, however, a new viceroy, Count
d’Oniate, arrived from Spain. He took the city by sur¬
prise, made the Duke of Guise prisoner, and thus frus¬
trated all the designs of France against, the Spanish power
in Naples.
But the rule of Spain, which neither the popular
movement of Masaniello, nor an aristocratic conspiracy
at the beginning of the eighteenth century planned by
the Prince of Macchia, succeeded in overthrowing, was
260 S I C I
Sicilies, brought to an end by the war of the Spanish Succes-
' sion. In 1707, after the defeat of the French army in
Lombardy by Prince Eugene, a body of 5000 infantry
and 3000 German cavalry, under the command of Count
Daun, entered the Neapolitan frontier by Palestrina, and
without encountering any resistance fiom the Spanish
viceroy, took possession of the kingdom. By the treaties
of Utrecht (April 1713), and Rastadt (March 1714), the
Emperor Charles VI. was maintained in the possession of
Naples, and Sicily was ceded by Spain to Victor Amadeus,
Duke of Savoy. The latter part of this arrangement,
however, was altered after the death of Louis XIV., when
Cardinal Alberoni, in endeavouring to retrieve the Spanish
loss, seized upon Sardinia and Sicily, and thereby gave
origin to the quadruple alliance of Austria, England, Hol¬
land, and France. After two years’ war, by a peace made
in 1720, Sicily was also given to the emperor, and Ama¬
deus of Savoy received a poor compensation in Sardinia.
The contest for the Spanish Succession had only substi¬
tuted an imperial for a Spanish viceroy over the Two
Sicilies; but the war for the succession of Poland (1733-
1738) gave them national independence. The Spanish
Infant Don Carlos, a younger son of Philip V., by his
second wife Elizabeth Farnese, with an army of 16,000 in¬
fantry and 5000 cavalry, under the command of Count de
Montemar, entered the kingdom in 1734, and having de¬
feated the Austrians near Bitonto on the 24th of the fol¬
lowing May, seized also upon Sicily, where, on the 3d of
June 1735, he was crowned at Palermo as king of Naples
and Sicily, and founded the Bourbon dynasty still reigning
over the country.
Charles had not been long acknowledged as king by the
treaty of Vienna of November 1735, when he had to defend
his possessions in the war that broke out in 1743 on the
death of the Emperor Charles VI. for the Austrian succes¬
sion. But the defeat of the Austrians at Velletri in Au¬
gust 1744, and afterwards the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle in
1748, firmly established him on the throne.
The reign of Charles, through the wise administra¬
tion of his minister Tanucci, a Tuscan advocate who had
followed him to the conquest of the kingdom, was marked
by great reforms in every branch of the administration,
and by attempts to raise the moral character of the nation
from the low ebb into which it had fallen under the vice¬
roys. The state of the country was such, that the judicial
census gave 30,000 thieves in the city of Naples alone,
and poisoning was so prevalent, especially by women,
that Charles deemed it necessary to institute a special
court, called Giunta de Veleni, for their punishment.
Charles founded a naval college, a tribunal of commerce, a
vast house of refuge for the reception of the poor of all the
kingdom, and the knightly order of St Januarius. He
opened the first roads in the kingdom, built several military
barracks, and the large theatre called from him San Carlo;
and began and partly built the royal palaces of Caserta,
Capodimonte, and Portici. He attempted to mitigate the
barbarity of the criminal laws, and to check the abuses of
the feudal system ; and by a Concordat, agreed upon in 1741
with Pope Benedict XIV., established on a better footing
the ecclesiastical hierarchy and policy in the country. He
also promoted and encouraged learning in every way, and
on the discovery of Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Stabiae,
he founded the Ercolenese Academy for the explanation of
the antiques brought to light, and began the vast collection
called afterwards Museo Borbonico.
Whilst carrying on these reforms, Charles was called to the
throne of Spain by the death of Ferdinand VI. without
issue in 1759. Before leaving Naples he regulated the
royal succession, and excluding his eldest son Philip on ac¬
count of imbecility, and his second son Charles, who was to
succeed him in Spain, he called to the throne of the Two
LIES.
Sicilies Ferdinand, his third son, then only eight years old, Sicilies,
and appointed a regency for the government of the country.
Charles, who was VII. of that name in Naples and III. in
Spain, is generally known in Neapolitan history as Charles III.
Ferdinand IV. followed under the regency the steps of
his father. On attaining his majority, his first act was
the expulsion of the Jesuits from the kingdom in 1767, in
compliance with the orders from Spain. The following
year he married Caroline, a daughter of the Empress Maria
Theresa, and a sister of Mary Antoinette of France. Caro¬
line, who was beautiful, clever, and fond of power, soon
acquired great influence over her indolent and uneducated
husband, and being admitted into the council of state by
an express stipulation in the marriage articles, she became
the chief ruler of the whole policy of the government.
The liberal and enlightened reforms initiated by Charles
were, however, continued, and the royal attention was par¬
ticularly turned to public education. The University of
Naples, founded by Frederick II., was re-constituted on
a better plan, and the chairs filled with the most able men
in the country. The statutes of the Academy of Science
and Literature were altered and remodelled. A college of
nobles was founded in every province, in which the lectures
were public, and the professors chosen by public examina¬
tion ; and every commune was ordered to appoint masters
for primary instruction. These schools were all secular,
and the ordinaries had neither voice nor power of inter¬
fering in them. Men of learning were encouraged ; Pagano
published his Political Essays ; Filangieri his Science of
Legislation ; Genovesi his Metaphysics, and Lessons on
Political Economy, works very remarkable for their age.
At the same time, to encourage agriculture, the mortmain
laws were promulgated, which prohibited any increase of
the landed property of religious corporations, and favoured
the passage of the lands they were possessed of into secular
hands.
These improvements, however, were counterbalanced by
some evils. Tanucci lost all influence, and the personal
favourites of the queen, Chevalier Medici and Sir John
Acton, who had settled at Naples and attained the rank of
general and minister of marine, governed the country at
their will. The personal conduct of the queen, and the
example of the whole court, greatly lowered the moral tone
of society, and made the Neapolitan aristocracy proverbial
for their profligacy.
Such was the state of the country at the breaking out of
the French Revolution in 1789. As a narrative of the
occupation of Italy by the French has been given in this
work under the heads Fkance and Great Britain, it is
not necessary here to do more than briefly notice the prin¬
cipal events from that time to the restoration of the Bour¬
bons in 1815.
The French Revolution effected an entire change in
the course hitherto pursued by the Neapolitan government;
which, as French aftairs became worse, so grew more suspi¬
cious and watchful, till at length, after the execution of the
royal family, it burst forth into open persecution against
any one who had shown enthusiasm for the new doctrines.
In July 1793, Ferdinand entered into a secret treaty
with England, which being acceded to by other powers,
the Two Sicilies found themselves included in the vast
European confederation against France. To meet the ex¬
penses of the war, the government resorted to extraordi¬
nary means and taxes. Subsidies were demanded and
enforced from every community, corporation, and wealthy
proprietor; a tax of 10 per cent, was imposed upon predial
revenues; a large amount of church property was seized
upon and sold; and all churches, monasteries, and private
citizens were ordered to deliver over their plate, and re¬
ceive in return bank certificates, payable after some years.
To avoid any evasion of this law, buried treasures were
SICILIES.
Sicilies, declared confiscated, and one-fourth of them awarded to the
^ discoverer. The bank certificates were, however, rendered
a mockery by a most disgraceful act of spoliation. There
were in Naples seven banks, belonging to corporations, in
which people were in the habit of placing their money,
and receiving in return a promissory-note, which, being
payable on presentation, circulated like cash, and often even
at a premium, from its convenience and safety in carrying
large sums. The cash deposited in these banks was gra¬
dually and secretly seized by the government, and the
theft concealed some time by causing the bank officials to
fabricate fresh paper. Suspicion having arisen of what was
going on, the depositors hastened to claim payment; but
the coffers being drained, payments were refused, and the
promissory-notes at once fell to a discount of 85 per cent.
More than L.12,000,000 of hard cash had been purloined,
and thousands of families reduced to beggary.
Extraordinary measures were also adopted, both to silence
the general indignation caused by such steps as these, and
to smother the spreading of the new French ideas. An
exceptional tribunal was created, called Giunta di Stato,
for the trial of persons accused of treason. The proceed¬
ings in it were inquisitorial and secret; the proofs given in
writing; secret and anonymous denunciations accepted as
evidence ; paid spies, servants, and even children, admitted
as witnesses. The king appointed the advocate for the
prisoner, who was not allowed to speak in his own defence;
and the sentence—pronounced with closed doors, and not
subject to appeal—was carried into immediate execution.
Vincenzo Vitaliano, Emmanuele de Deo, and Vincenzo
Galiani—three youths of good family, 22, 20, and 19 years
old—fell the first victims to the cause of Neapolitan free¬
dom, a cause which gathered strength from persecution;
for though thousands have since died for it on the scaffold,
in dungeons, and in exile, the aspirations for a liberal
government are as ardent as they were more than half a
century ago.
These measures were chiefly, if not entirely, the work of
the queen and her favourite ministers, Acton and Medici,
whilst the indolent king spent his time in hunting and
carousing. But hard times were at hand. The events
of the war were not favourable to the Bourbons. After
some checks and a hollow peace, signed at Paris, with
Buonaparte and the Directory in October 1796, Ferdinand
raised a new levy of 40,000 conscripts, and, joining a new
confederation against France, poured with a large army,
under General Mack, into the Papal States, then occupied
by the French, and, without encountering the enemy, en¬
tered Rome on the 29th of November 1798, and committed
all sorts of excesses. In a few days the Neapolitan army
was routed ; Ferdinand fled in disguise to Caserta; and on
the 20th December the French, under General Champion-
net, crossed the Neapolitan frontier. Such terror seized
the king and the royal family, that, in spite of the advice
of Sir William Hamilton and Nelson, on the morning of
the 21st, they all sailed for Sicily. Championnet, with
22,000 French, after a week of desperate resistance from
the lazzaroni, roused by the friars and priests, entered
Naples on the 23d January 1799, and proclaimed the Par-
thenopean Republic.
The various acts of the republican government during
its short existence ; its overthrow by Cardinal Ruffo on the
14th of June 1799; the unutterable horrors, in the name
of religion and loyalty, committed by the undisciplined
masses under the cardinal’s flag in their progress from
Calabria to Naples; the wholesale massacre and pillage on
the taking of Naples; and the state trials and executions
that follow'ed them, as well as the other events down to
261
1825—are graphically and touchingly related by a national Sicilies,
historian, Pietro Colletta, who was partly an eye-witness S
and partly an actor in them, to whose work any one who
takes an interest in them may refer with pleasure.1
When the royalist army entered Naples, the leading
men who had taken a part in the republican government
sought refuge in the castles Nuovo and Dell’ Uovo, and en¬
tered into negotiations with the king’s lieutenant, Cardinal
Ruffo; but not trusting to him alone, they required that
the capitulation should also be agreed to and signed by
Captain Foote, in command of the British fleet in the har¬
bour, and by the leaders of the Russian and Turkish forces.
By the terms of the capitulation, the republican garrison
might either embark for Toulon, or remain in the kingdom,
secure from molestation for themselves and their families.
When Queen Caroline read in Palermo these terms, and
saw her hopes of vengeance frustrated, she entreated Lady
Hamilton to go in pursuit of Nelson, who was sailing to¬
wards Naples, with letters to him from herself and the king,
and to prevail upon him to revoke the treaty, as sovereigns
could not stoop to capitulate with rebellious subjects.
Nelson at first shrank with horror from the demand, but,
unfortunately for his name, he yielded at last to the allure¬
ments of Lady Hamilton, and broke the capitulation. Car¬
dinal Ruffo himself was disgusted at the violation of public
faith. Admiral Caracciolo was subjected to a mock trial
by court-martial, and hung on board Nelson’s flag-ship.
The republicans, who had embarked in several ships, and
were sailing for Toulon, were stopped ; eighty-four, marked
as victims, were taken out of their number, chained two
and two, subjected to a mock trial, and eventually executed.
Mario Pagano, Logoteta, Conforti, Cirillo, Baffi, and many
others of the most eminent men of the time, even the
beautiful and accomplished Leonora Pimentel and Luigia
Sanfelice, perished by the hand of the executioner. Naples
has not yet recovered the blow, and the British name has
ever since remained taxed by the Neapolitans with want
of faith.
Ferdinand returned to Naples, and increased the prose¬
cutions. The monasteries of the order of St Benedict, and
of the Carthusians, who had taken no part in the revolu¬
tion, but had the misfortune of having great wealth, were
suppressed, and their property confiscated to the exchequer.
Another decree abolished the Sedili, a sort of municipal
corporation of Naples, which represented, and in part sus¬
tained, the ancient rights and privileges of the kingdom,
and the influence of the aristocracy.
Six years after these events, Ferdinand, on the 23d Jan.
1806, was compelled again to seek refuge in Sicily. After
the battle of Austerlitz, the peace of Presburg, Dec. 26,
1805, between France and Austria, having left Naples to
her fate, a French army, under General Massena, marched
upon the kingdom, and entered Naples on the 14th Feb¬
ruary. A decree of Napoleon, dated Paris, March 30, 1806,
proclaimed Joseph Buonaparte king of Naples. After two
years, however, another imperial decree, of July 15, 1808,
calling Joseph to the throne of Spain, appointed king of
Naples Joachim Murat, who had married Caroline, a sister
of Napoleon.
It would be long to enter into an account of the new
institutions and law’s introduced under the French rule into
the kingdom. Suffice it to mention that the Code Napoleon
was adopted, the Tavoliere system was improved, a tax
called Fondiaria, of one-fifth part of the revenue from real
property, was introduced, the remnants of the feudal sys¬
tem were destroyed, and every sort of jurisdiction restored
to the crown ; feudal burdens were abolished; serfdom done
aw ay with ; the use of rivers, lakes, and sea-shores restored
1 History of the Kingdom of Naples, 1734-1825, by General P. Colletta. Translated from the Italian by S. Horner, with a Supple¬
mentary Chapter, 1825-1856. Edinburgh, 1858. 2 vols. 8vo.
262 S I C I
Sicilies, to all; mixed properties, upon which the feudal loids and
the peasantry had certain defined rights in common, weie
dissolved and divided ; the aristocratic order preserved only
by titles; monasteries suppressed ; privileges of any kind
abolished, and all the inhabitants made equal before the law.
Important events were at the same time taking place in
Sicily. After the whole of Italy had been occupied by
Napoieon, England felt the necessity of strengthening her
alliance with King Ferdinand, and securing her retreat into
the island. With that view she engaged to pay him sub¬
sidies of from L.300,000 to L.400,000 per annum, and to
protect the island by an army of at least 10,000 men ; the
king, on his part, promised to exempt from customs’ duties
all the provisions required for her army in the Mediterra¬
nean, and to close the ports of Sicily against her enemies.
In 1810, however, Queen Caroline, being displeased at
the English not using all the efforts which she desired to
reconquer Naples for her dynasty, opened communications
with Napoleon, who having become her kinsman by his
marriage with Maria Louisa, gave her hope of regaining
that kingdom. Hence she began to make every exertion
to create mutual mistrust between the Sicilians and the
English, and to drive the latter out of the island. These
intrigues on the part of the queen being backed by an
attempt from the king to destroy the constitution of the
island, rendered an intervention necessary on the part of
our government in the affairs of the country.
The Sicilian constitution had undergone but slight altera¬
tion during the Spanish dominion. Its parliament consisted
of three braccia or estates, in the first of which, at the time
these events happened, sat 66 prelates and abbots; in the
second, or military braccio, 227 noblemen ; and in the
third, or braccio demaniale, 43 representatives of as many
free towns. It met only every four years, but was perma¬
nently represented by a committee of 12 members, ap¬
pointed by the three Chambers, who administered the
finances, and were the guardians of the public liberties
during the intervals between its sessions. In February
1810, the hereditary prince opened it in the name of the
king, and demanded an extraordinary supply of L.180,000
per annum ; but parliament having refused to vote moie
than L.50,000, the Crown, by several edicts of February
1811, ordered some communal and public lands to be sold,
and a tax of 1 per cent, to be levied upon the value of
every contract. The braccio militare having presented a
protest to the king against these unconstitutional proceed¬
ings, four of the leading peers, who had signed it, weie
arrested on the night of the 19th July, and transported to
different islets off the coast.
On these occurrences becoming known in this country,
our government furnished Lord William Bentinck, who
was then commander-in-chief of the British forces in the
island, with full powers for intervening in the contest which
had arisen between the Crown and the Sicilian nation.
The results of Lord William Bentinck’s intervention were
—1st, The removal of the queen from all concern with
public affairs, and eventually her departure fiom the island;
2d, The recall of the peers who had been deported; 3d,
The revocation of the unconstitutional edicts ; 4th, The
appointment of the hereditary prince as vicar-geneial of
the kingdom ; 5th, The consent of the king to a refoim of
the constitution.
Parliament was accordingly summoned by the Piince
Royal, and in November 1812 concluded its reform of the
constitution, which, in February 1813, was sanctioned by
the king. The new constitution was framed on the model
of that of England, the legislative power being vested con¬
jointly in the king, in an Upper House, consisting of barons
and bishops, and a Lower House of representatives, elected
by the people, and the executive power being exclusively
in the hands of the king.
LIES.
The new Sicilian constitution, however, was not destined Sicilies,
to have a long existence, for the fall of Napoleon brought
on the restoration of the Bourbons at Naples, who forgot
the asylum they had twice found in the island. Whilst the
Congress at Vienna w-as considering whether Naples was
to be left to Murat or restored to Ferdinand, the escape of
Napoleon from Elba changed the state of affairs. Joachim,
who was distrustful of the Congress, in March 1815, de¬
clared war against Austria, and entered the Papal terri¬
tory ; whereupon the Congress sitting at Vienna declared
him fallen from the throne, and the dynasty of the Bour¬
bons reinstated. After various engagements, the battle of
Tolentino, and the treachery of many of Murat’s generals,
decided the contest. Joachim retired in disorder, and the
Austrians entered the kingdom, and encamped round Capua.
On the 20th of May the Neapolitan generals Carrascosa
and Colletta, the Austrian generals Bianchi and Neipperg,
and Lord Burghersh, on the part of England, met at Casa-
lanza, a small house three miles from that fortress, and
concluded a treaty, which put an end to the war and to
the kingdom of Murat.
Ferdinand returned to Naples in the beginning of June;
not Queen Caroline, who had died suddenly in the Castle
of Hetzendorf on the 7th September 1814.
Murat ended his days in a rash attempt to recover the
kingdom. In the island of Corsica, where after the battle
of Waterloo he had sought refuge, he collected a band of
two hundred and fifty followers, all personally attached to
him, and ready for adventure; and having freighted six
vessels, on the night of the 28th September 1815 weighed
anchor from Aiaccio, and directed his course to Salerno,
where three thousand of his former soldiers, supposed to be
discontented with the Bourbons, were stationed. His pre¬
parations, however, had been watched by a certain Carabelli,
a Corsican, who, though formerly covered with favours by
Murat, had volunteered to act as a spy; and the Neapo¬
litan government, being by him informed of Murat’s move¬
ments, kept a look-out along the coasts. The small fleet
sailed prosperously for six days, but on the 7th it was
assailed and scattered by a storm, which drove the vessel
in which the ex-king himself was near the shore of Pizzo
in Calabria. After some hesitation Murat resolved to land
at that place ; and on the 8th of October, a feast-day, he
appeared in the market-place of Pizzo, with twenty-eight
followers, who, raising his standard, shouted, “ Long live
King Murat!” All persons present having remained silent,
Murat perceiving how cold his reception was, hastened to
go to Monteleone, a populous city, in which he expected
to find many warm friends ; but being followed up and
attacked by a number of devoted adherents of the Bour¬
bons, he gallantly dashed through them, and made for the
shore, to regain his vessel. But the vessel was at some
distance, and Murat in vain shouted for her, for the captain
sailed, carrying away the rich booty he had on board.
Murat tried to push off a skiff which lay upon the shore,
but at length surrounded and seized, he had the jewels he
wore on his cap and breast torn off, was struck in the face
and insulted, and, with his companions, dragged into the
dungeon of the castle.
The news of the events at Pizzo being transmitted to
Naples by telegraph, the government sent stringent orders
for Murat’s trial and immediate execution. A court-mar¬
tial, composed of seven officers, three of whom and the
attorney-general had been raised by Murat from humble
stations, assembled on the 13th, and by a law which he
himself had passed seven years before, and which now
became the instrument of his own death, condemned him
to die as a public enemy, for having attempted to excite the
people to rebellion against their lawful sovereign. He was
shot the same day in a small court of the castle. He
refused to have his eyes bound, and calmly placing himself
S I C I
•Mcilies. in a posture to receive the balls,' said to the soldiers,
“ Spare my face, and aim at my heart.” He fell, in his
forty-eighth year, grasping in his hands the miniature por¬
traits of his children; and his remains were buried in the
churcn of Pizzo, towards the erection of which he had
liberally contributed.
Once firmly re-established on the throne of Naples, Fer¬
dinand began his attack on the liberties of Sicily. Article
104 of the treaty of Vienna recognised him as “ king of
the kingdom of the Two Sicilies.” The word kingdom
therein introduced, though apparently insignificant, aimed,
as it will be seen, at important changes in the government
of the country.
By a secret article of a treaty, signed at Vienna on the
14th of June 1815, Ferdinand had bound himself, in re¬
suming the government of his kingdom, “ not to admit of
any innovation not in accordance either with the ancient
monarchical institutions, or with the principles adopted by
his imperial and royal majesty in the internal government
of his Italian provinces.” In conformity with this engage¬
ment, in 1816 he promulgated three royal edicts, by which
he assumed the new title of Ferdinand I., King of the
Kingdom of the Two Sicilies; and on the grounds that the
privileges enjoyed by the Sicilians were to be combined
with the unity of the political institutions, which were to
form the public law of the kingdom, he united the two
kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, took the whole of the
government into his hands, and virtually and de facto an¬
nulled both the ancient and the new constitution of Sicily.
The Sicilians were only granted the privilege, that all
offices and employments, civil and ecclesiastical, in the
island should be conferred exclusively upon them. From
that time dates the despotic rule of both the continental
and the insular divisions of the kingdom.
A summary of the principal events, from 1815 to 1850
having been already given under Italy, it remains only to
add that the condition of the country has not since improved
in any degree. A series of state trials, familiar in this
country through the powerful appeal against them to the
public opinion of all civilised nations by one of our most
able statesmen,1 initiated, in 1850, a system of ferocious
reaction, which, far from abating, seems to grow worse with
time. Ferdinand II., in 1859, was succeeded by his eldest
son Francis II., who is faithfully treading in the footsteps
of his father. The supreme and irresponsible authority of
the police, and its natural offsprings, want of personal secu¬
rity, persecutions, injustice, terror, and general dismay, are
still the order of the day in the Two Sicilies.
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES.
The Normans, a.d. 1130-1194.
1130. Roger, a grandson of Tancred of Hauteville, is proclaimed
King at Salerno.
1154. William I. (the Bad), son of Roger.
1166. William II. (the Good), son of William I.; leaves no issue.
1190. Tancred, Count of Lecce, a natural son of a son of Roger.
1194. William III., son of Tancred.
The Scabians, 1194-1266.
1194. Henry VI., Emperor of Germany, the son of Frederick Bar-
barossa, having married Constance, the daughter of
Roger, claimed the crown, and compelled William III.
to abdicate.
1197. Constance reigns alone in the name of her son.
.1.198. Frederick II. of Hohenstaufen, Emperor of Germany.
1250. Conrad, the second son of Frederick II.
1254. Manfred, a natural son of Frederick II., at first as guardian
of Conradin, the only son of Conrad, and afterwards, on
the false report of Conradin’s death, in his own name.
LIES. 263
The Angevines, 1266-1442. Sicilies.
1266. Charles I. of Anjou, Count of Provence, brother of Louis i p- -, ■/
IX. (St Louis).
Kingdom of Naples.
House of Anjou.
1282. Charles I. having lost Sicily, remains King of Naples.
1285. Charles II., the Lame (Carlo il Zoppo), son of Charles I.
1309. Robert the Wise, third son of Charles II,
1343. Joanna I., daughter of Charles, only son of Robert.
1381. Charles III. of Durazzo, son of Louis Count of Gravina, and
grandson of Charles II.
1386. Ladislaus, son of Charles III.
1414. Joanna II., sister of Ladislaus.
1435. Rene of Anjou, Duke of Lorraine, called by Joanna II.’s
will in opposition to her previous adoption of Alfonso of
Aragon. The Angevine dynasty ended in him.
Kingdom of Sicily.
House of Aragon, 1282-1501.
1282. Peter, King of Aragon, the husband of Constance, the
daughter of Manfred.
1285. James I., the Just, son of Peter; on succeeding to Aragon
in 1291, abdicated in favour of his brother.
1291. Interregnum.
1296. Frederick II., brother of James I.
1337. Peter II., son of Frederick, to whom he had been associated
on the throne since 1321.
1342. Louis, son of Peter.
1355. Frederick III., a younger brother of Louis.
1377. Mary, daughter of Frederick III., and her husband, Martin
of Aragon.
1402. Martin I., on the death of Mary without issue.
1409. Martin II. (I. of Aragon), the father of the last king. Sicily
was united to Aragon.
1412. Ferdinand the Just, King of Aragon and Sicily.
1416. Alfonso V., son of Ferdinand, King of Aragon and Sicily.
King of Naples and Sicily.
1442. Alfonso V., called the Magnanimous, having expelled Renato
of Anjou from Naples, united the two kingdoms, and
assumed the name of Alfonso I. At his death the
two countries were again separated.
Kingdom of Naples.
1458. Ferdinand I., a natural son of Alfonso, legitimated by the
Pope in 1444.
1494. Alfonso II., Duke of Calabria, son of Ferdinand I., who, on
being attacked by Charles VIII. of France, abdicated in
favour of his son,
1495. Ferdinand II., who recovered the kingdom from the French,
and died at twenty-nine.
1496. Frederick, Prince of Altamura, second son of Ferdinand I.
Attacked by Louis XII. of France, and betrayed by his
cousin Ferdinand the Catholic, he lost the kingdom in
1501. The Aragonese dynasty ended with him.
Kingdom of Sicily.
1458. John II., a brother of Alfonso, and King of Aragon and
Navarre.
1479. Ferdinand II. (Ferdinand the Catholic), son of John IL
The Spanish Dominion, 1501-1707.
Kingdoms of Naples and Sicily.
By the treaty of Granada, November 1500, Louis XII. and Fer¬
dinand the Catholic, agreed to divide Naples; but dissensions
having arisen between them, Ferdinand drove the French away,
and in 1504 united the whole of Naples to Sicily, already a Spanish
possession.
1504. Ferdinand the Catholic, King of Spain.
1515. Joanna of Castile, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, who
abdicated in favour of her son,
1516. Charles IV., afterwards the Emperor Charles V.
1554. Philip II. of Spain, the husband of Queen Mary of England.
1598. Philip III. of Spain, son of Philip II.
1621. Philip IV., the son of Philip III., by Margaret of Austria.
1665. Charles II., son of Philip IV., by his second wife, Mary Anne
of Austria.
1700. Philip V., Duke of Anjou, and grandson of Louis XIV. of
France, called by Charles II.’s will to the thrones of Spain,
Naples, and Sicily.
1 Two Letters to the Earl of Aberdeen on the State Prosecutions at Naples, by W. E. Gladstone. London : Murray.
Siculiana
The Austrian Dominion, 1707-1734.
Naples.
Sicyon. 1707. Charles, Archduke of Austria, second son of Leopold I., and
—sy ^ ^ afterwards Emperor, as Charles VI.
1720. Charles VI., Emperor of Germany, and King of Naples and
Sicily.
Sicily.
1713. By the treaty of Utrecht, Spain ceded Sicily to the Duke of
Savoy.
1718. Spain seized upon Sicily, hut in 1720 gave it up to Austria.
The Bourbons.
Kings of Naples and Sicily.
1734. Charles of Bourbon, VII. of Naples, a younger son of Philip
V. of Spain, by his second wife, Elizabeth Farnese. Suc¬
ceeded in 1759 to the throne of Spain as Charles III.
1759. Ferdinand III. of Sicily, and IV. of Naples, third son of
Charles III. by Amelia Walburga, daughter of Frederick
Augustus, king of Poland.
Naples.
1799. After five months of Republican government, Ferdinand re¬
took possession of the kingdom.
Sicily.
The Bourbon dynasty continued without any interruption.
The French Dominion, 1806-1815.
1806. Joseph Buonaparte proclaimed king on the 14th of January.
1808. Joachim Murat, proclaimed king of Naples by a decree of
Napoleon, of 15th July.
The Bourbons (continued).
Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
1815. Ferdinand IV., by the treaty of Casalanza, May 20, 1815,
obtains possession of Naples. In 1816 he assumed the
name of—
1816. Ferdinand I., King of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
1825. Francis I., his son by Caroline of Austria, sister of the
Emperor Joseph II.
1830. Ferdinand II., son of Francis, by his second wife, the In¬
fanta Isabella of Spain.
1859. Francis II., the reigning king, eldest son of Ferdinand II.,
by his first wife, Maria Christina, daughter of Victor
Emmanuel I., king of Sardinia. He succeeded his father
on the 22d of May 1859. (* * *)
SICULIANA, a town of Sicily, in the province and 9
miles N.N.W. of Girgenti. It occupies an unhealthy situa¬
tion, in the neighbourhood of the most considerable sulphur
mines in the island. Some trade is carried on in corn and
sulphur. The ancient Camicus is supposed to have been
situated near this town. Pop. 6000.
SICYON modern Vasilika), a celebrated city
of ancient Greece, in Achaia, about 2 miles from the south
shore of the Corinthian Gulf, and about 10 N.W. of Corinth.
The situation is one of the finest of any of the cities of
Greece. It stands on a hill between the rivers Helisson
and Asopus, and commands a wide prospect over the fertile
plain of Achaia on the west; on the east, as far as the lofty
hill that sustained the citadel of Corinth ; while, on the
north, the eye ranges over the waters of the gulf to the
mountains of Parnassus, Helicon, and Cithaeron beyond.
The hill is triangular, and round its edges ran the walls of
the city. Its southern portion being slightly elevated above
the rest, formed the Acropolis. Like most other large
Greek cities, Sicyon contained an agora or market-place,
a theatre, a gymnasium, and innumerable temples. Of the
last, the most important seems to have been that of Apollo,
the patron of the city, in the market-place. The streets
were regularly laid out, crossing one another at right angles,
These may still be traced; but very few of the buildings
have been preserved. There are, however, some remains
of the theatre, and also of a stadium or race-course, both
for the most part cut out of the ledge of rock between the
upper and lower city. Sicyon is said to have been one of
the most ancient cities in Greece; and there are many
legends more or less improbable concerning its early his¬
tory. During all the time when anything definite can be
known about it, the town seems to have been peopled partly
with Dorians and partly with lonians ; and for the greater
part by far of this period the former race were the dominant
party. The chief exception to this was an interval of more
than 100 years, from about B.c. 676 to 560, during which
it was governed by successive tyrants of the house of
Orthagoras. an Ionian family. The last of these was Cleis-
thenes, whose daughter Agarista was married into the illus¬
trious Athenian family of the Alemaeonidae, and became
the mother of a more famous Cleisthenes, the consolidator
of democratic power at Athens. During the most stirring
times of Greek history, Sit-yon makes no great figure. In
all the wars it was a steady adherent to Sparta, and opposed
to Athens. It was more famous for its painting and sculp¬
ture than ibr political influence, and the city was rich in
works of art. It gave its name to one of the great schools
of painters in Greece, which was founded by Eupompus,
and distinguished by the genius of Apelles. Sicyon was
also the birthplace of the sculptor Lysippus. After the
Roman conquest of Greece it fell into decay, though it
continued to exist down to the Christian era.
SIDDONS, Mrs (whose maiden name was Sarah Kem¬
ble), the greatest actress that ever trode the stage, was
born at Brecon, in South Wales, on the 5th of July 1755.
Roger Kemble, her father, was manager of a provincial
company of players, and amongst this class of persons he
seems to have held a highly respectable rank. Sarah, who
was his eldest daughter, appeared very early on the stage,
and went the usual round of juvenile characters without
exciting much expectation. At the age of eighteen she
married Mr Siddons, an actor in her father’s company, soon
after which event she removed to Cheltenham, where she
attracted some attention, and was recommended to Garrick.
Her first appearance on the London boards was not suc¬
cessful, simply because she never had a proper part assigned
her. Mrs Siddons accordingly returned to the provinces
much mortified ; but the praises showered upon her by such
audiences as those of York, Manchester, and Bath, induced
the managers of Drury Lane to re-invite her to the metro¬
polis. Her re-appearance took place on the 10th October
1782. The character which she chose was that of Isabella
in The Fatal Marriage. The effect of that performance
was extraordinary and unparalleled. It gave a shock of
wonder and delight to the public mind, like the news of
some great and unexpected victory. On that night, Mrs
Siddons at once took possession of the tragic throne, on
which, for thirty years, she reigned without a rival. Some
idea of the excitement which she created may be learned
from the fact, that “ the grave and reverend seignors” of
the English bar presented her with a purse of one hundred
guineas. During the season Mrs Siddons played Euphrasia,
Jane Shore, Calista, and for her two benefits, Belvidera
and Zara. In all of these characters she greatly added to
her fame; the public were astonished at the vastness of her
powers, and tragedy became the fashion. In subsequent
seasons she increased her circle of characters, adding from
Shakspeare those of Lady Macbeth, Constance, Isabella,
Queen Katherine (the most chaste, beautiful, and perfect
performance that ever drew a tear), Rosalind (not in her
line, for she was altogether too stately and heroic for
comedy), Desdemona, Volumnia, Portia, Hermione, Imo-
gene, and a few others. This list shows that her range
was surprising, but she was not equally excellent in all her
parts. Her comedy never gave great satisfaction, although
there was occasionally much to admire in it. When the
metropolitan season closed, it was the custom of this, as it
is of every great actor, to visit the principal cities of Ire¬
land, Scotland, and the provinces of England. Everywhere
she enchanted the lovers of the drama. She became a
favourite with their majesties, and was in the habit of read-
S I D
Sidney, ing plays to them, an occupation of more honour than
Igernon. emolument. However, Mrs Siddons, by her professional
exertions, realized a fortune equal to her wishes, and re¬
tired from the stage in 1812. Her death took place on
the 8th of June 1831, in her seventy-sixth year.
The symmetry of this great actress’s person was most
captivating. Her features were strongly marked, but finely
harmonized; the flexibility of her countenance was extra¬
ordinary, yielding instantaneously to every change of pas¬
sion ; her voice was plaintive, yet capable of firmness and
exertion ; her articulation was clear, penetrating, and dis¬
tinct ; above all, she was completely mistress of her powers,
and possessed that high judgment which enabled her to
display all her other qualifications to the greatest advantage.
One of Mrs Siddons’ highest endowments, if not her
very highest, was the power of identifying herself with the
character which she personated. The scenes in which she
acted were to her far from being a mere mimic show; so
powerfully did her imagination conjure up the reality, that
the tears which she shed were those of bitterness felt at the
moment. From her frown of proud disdain and scorn, the
very actors themselves shrank with something like terror.
Her greatest characters were Katherine in Henry VIII.,
and Lady Macbeth, in which she manifested a dignity and
a sensibility, a power and a pathos, never equalled by any
female performer. Lastly, Mrs Siddons was truly an ori¬
ginal ; she copied no one, living or dead, but acted from
nature and herself. In all the relations of life her conduct
was most exemplary. “ She was more than a woman of
genius,” says the poet Campbell, who knew her well, “for
the additional benevolence of her heart made her an honour
to her sex, and to human nature.” (j. f. s.)
SIDNEY, or Sydney, Algernon, a noble English
patriot, who fell a victim to the judicial tyranny of the
Second Charles, was distinguished alike by the superiority
of his mind, and by the excellence of his public and private
character; was grand-nephew to the illustrious Sir Philip
Sidney, second son of the second Earl of Leicester, and of
Dorothy, eldest daughter of Henry, earl of Northumber¬
land, and was born in 1622. After receiving as careful
an education as the time could bestow, he was, while still
a child, taken by his father, in 1632, who had been ap¬
pointed ambassador extraordinary to the court of Denmark,
in conjunction with his elder brother, Lord Lisle, to the
place of his father’s embassage. Accustomed from his
tenderest years to the gaiety and splendour of courts, and
educated in the largest and most liberal sense, he grew up
a most accomplished youth, endowed with all the dignity
and worth which can give weight to a man’s character, and
with all the gentler graces which lend to his manners the
quality of fascination. Four years after he had visited
Copenhagen, he accompanied his father to Paris, where he
gained the esteem of many of the principal personages
about the French court, and his mother had the gratifica¬
tion of having his good repute wafted to her ears again and
again in England. In 1641 he did good service in Ireland,
where he commanded a troop of horse in his father’s regi¬
ment. Returning along with his brother, Lord Lisle, in
the autumn of 1643, on their way to join the royal standard
at Oxford, they were injudiciously detained by the royalists
at Liverpool. Insulted by this apparent jealousy of their
characters, the youths immediately set spurs to their horses,
and joined the parliamentary army. Sidney entered with
the rank of a captain in the Earl of Manchester’s army on
the 10th of May 1644. He was raised to be lieutenant-
colonel before the summer was done, and fought and bled
profusely at the battle of Long Marston Moor, on the 2d
July 1644. Sidney having now vindicated his claims to
the rank of a soldier, rose afterwards with much rapidity,
till, in 1646, we find him lieutenant-general of the horse
in Ireland, and governor of the city of Dublin. He had
VOL. xx.
SID 265
been returned member for Cardiff in the beginning of the Sidney,
same year, and in May 1647 he received the thanks Algernon,
of the House for his services in Ireland, and was made
governor of Dover Castle. Next year he acted as one
of the judges of the king, but withheld his presence
on the signing of the warrant for his execution. This was
possibly through respect for his father’s convictions, who
was a royalist. It certainly was not through any dislike
which he entertained to the shedding of royal blood, for on
being challenged, many years after, by his father as to
whether he was guilty of the late king’s death, “ Guilty !”
said he, “ do you call that guilt ? Why, it was the justest
and bravest action that ever was done in England or any¬
where else.” Sidney, while advocating with all his might
the erection of a free legislature over a free people, was not
prepared for the ambitious step taken by Cromwell in
accepting the Protectorship of the Commonwealth. He
used all his influence in opposing his election, and had for
his pains the misfortune to hear the Protector insist twice
upon his quitting the House of Commons. This occurred
on the 19th of April 1653. He indignantly retired to his
father’s residence, at Penshurst in Kent, where, in the bosom
of his family, he could nurse the wounds which his pride
had sustained in his late contest with the Lord-Protector.
He preserved his retirement for the next six years, when
the restoration of the long parliament again summoned him
to London.
On the 13th of May 1659, Sidney was appointed a
councillor of state, and was despatched on the 2d of June,
with other ambassadors, to negotiate a peace between
Denmark and Sweden. While he was absent on this
mission, King Charles II. was restored. Sidney, who had
heartily acquiesced in the first resolution of the long par¬
liament, which was “to secure the liberty and property
of the people, without the government of a single person,
kingship, or a House of Lords,” was of opinion that that
resolution was still binding on his conscience, and that he
could forego it only at the risk of public perjury. He
accordingly resolved to stay out of England, and watch for
fairer weather. This is not the place to follow him in his
sad wanderings through Holland, Germany, Rome, Swit¬
zerland, and France, until his return to England in 1677.
Here is an extract or two from a very noble letter of Sid¬
ney’s, written to a friend a little before the Restoration,
which must here suffice for a partial delineation of his
mental character. “ 1 have,” he says, “ in my life been
guilty of many follies ; but, as I think, of no meanness. I
have ever had in my mind, that when God should cast me
into such a condition as that I cannot save my life but by
doing an indecent thing, He shows me the time is come
wherein I should resign it; and when I cannot live in my
own country but by such means as are worse than dying
in it, I think He shows me I ought to keep myself out of
it.” He further adds, “ My thoughts as to king and state
depending upon their actions, no man shall be a more faith¬
ful servant to him than I, if he make the good and pros¬
perity of his people his glory ; none more his enemy if he
doth the contrary.” Tired out with waiting and watching,
and no appearance of dawn on the western horizon, Sidney
concurred with some of his companions in exile in urging
on the Dutch government the invasion of England in 1665.
Disappointed in this attempt, we next find him at Paris,
whither he had been induced to go in expectation of a
French insurrection' in England. He submitted his plans
to the government, but that wily body thought 100,000
crowns too great a stake to be thrown away upon the faith
of ap exile. At length, after a long interval, Sidney was
induced to set foot upon English soil. His father, the Earl
of Leicester, declining in health and strength, wished to see
his outcast son, Algernon, before he died, and busied him¬
self to obtain a passport from the king, which was granted
2 L
266
SIDNEY.
Sidney, in 1677. The father died shortly after, leaving the vaga-
Sir Philip, jjnnd rebel L.5100. Sidney was afterwards detained m
WW England by a tedious suit in Chancery, occasioned by his
elder brother disputing his father’s will 1 here are various
references to Sidney in Barillon, the hrench ministers de¬
spatches, of this date; and among the disbursements ot
French money to English patriots, we find 500 guineas,
aliened to have been paid by that functionary to Algernon
Sidney Without attaching too great importance to the
statement of this intriguing Frenchman it is not very im¬
probable that Sidney’s hands may have been soiled by the
taint of French gold. If he did receive money from Baril¬
lon as is alleged, he could doubtless satisfy his conscience
that the taking of it was no crime. He twice failed to
obtain a seat in parliament, once at Guildford in 1678, and
once at Bramber in 1679. He was no doubt eagerly watched
by the party in power, and it is well known that Charles
II. both feared and hated him. Sidney leagued himself
in' opposition to the court with Monmouth, Shaftesbury,
Russell, and Essex. No doubt he sought his own time
and way to introduce an entire change in the existing
system of government. The Rye-House Plot of June
1683 was made the signal for his arrest. Sidney was
drao-cred to the Tower, along with Lord William Russell, on
a charge of high treason, where, with the notorious Jeffreys
fora judge and the abandoned Howard for sole witness, his
examination must have been a mere mockery. No legal
evidence could be found of his guilt, yet “ in defiance of
law and justice,” be was summarily beheaded on lower
Hill on Friday the 7th December 1683. (See Lord Mac-
aulay’s Hist, of Eng. vol. i.) Sidney died as he had lived,
with all the Christian firmness, and with little of the pride
of suffering usually ascribed to the Stoics. He did not
even address the mob congregated to witness his execution.
On being asked to speak, he replied he had made his peace
with God, and had nothing to say to man. A truly valo¬
rous and right noble man, who both in life and death
showed that he possessed many of the qualities which go
to make up a hero, both in largeness of soul and in lofti¬
ness of purpose. His is a name that England will not wil¬
lingly let die: his is a death that she would gladly wipe
from the pages of her history. Yet, perhaps, it is better
so, for it endears to an English memory the records of Ins
country, the thought that they have been consecrated by
a heroic and innocent death,
Sidney had studied more deeply perhaps than any other
man of his time the history of government in all its aspects.
He has left us a short treatise on that subject, which was
published in 1698, under the title of Discourses concern¬
ing Government, by John Toland. Again it appeared with
his Apology, and a life of the author, in 1751, by Thomas
Hollis. The whole of his works which have yet been pub¬
lished were brought out in 1772 by Brand Hollis. Ibis
edition omits his Essay on Love, said to be still in manu¬
script at Penshurst. There is also a careful Life of Alger¬
non Sidney, by G. W. Meadley, 8vo, London, 1813. Ihe
trial of Sidney was printed in 1684, but it is said to have
been fi st cooked by Jeffreys. (See Howels State Trials,
vol. ix. pp. 357-1000.) .
Sidney, Sir Philip, one of the brightest oinaments of
the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was born at Penshurst, in
the county of Kent, on the 29th day of November 1554.
By both parents his descent was illustrious. The Sidney
family came over from Anjou with Henry II., to whom
William de Sidney acted as chamberlain. Sir William,
Philip’s grandfather, was chamberlain and steward ot the
household to Henry VIII., and his father, Sir Henry, was
companion and bosom friend of Edward VI. The latter
was a man of great ability and accomplishments. At court
he was distinguished for his wit, gallantry, and manly bear¬
ing, and was universally beloved. He was appointed Lord
President of Wales, and afterwards Lord-Deputy of Ireland. Sidney,
The latter was at that time a post of great difficulty and Sir Philip,
danger; but lie acquitted himself in it with great credit,
bringing subordination and order out of anarchy and con-
fusion. He was, besides, a man of exemplary piety ; and
his letters to his sons show, that while anxious for their
advancement in secular learning, he was most of all so¬
licitous for their religious and moial up-biinging. Philips
mother was IMary, eldest daughter of John, Duke of Noith-
umberland; and at the time of his birth she was mourn¬
ing the untimely deaths of her father and brother. She
was a woman of very superior character, and devoted her¬
self chiefly to the education of her family, superintending
not less their amusements than their studies, and instil¬
lin'’- into their minds the principles of religion and virtue.
Young Sidney remained at home till the age of twelve,
when he was sent to a school in Shrewsbury: and by this
time he had made considerable progress in various branches
of knowledge, and was able to write letters to his father in
Latin and French. From Shrewsbury he proceeded to
Christ Church, Oxford, where he distinguished himself by
his assiduity and diligence. “ He aspired,"’ says Fuller,
“ to pre-eminence in every part of knowledge and “ such
was his appetite for learning, that he never could be led
fast enough therewith, and so quick and strong his diges¬
tion, that he soon turned it into wholesome nourishment,
and thrived healthfully thereon.” In early life he seems
to have been of a weakly constitution j and there exists a
letter, written, when he was fifteen years of age, by his
uncle, the Earlof Leicester, to the Archbishop of Canterbury,
craving a licence for him to eat flesh during Lent, on
account of the delicate state of his health. By judicious
exercise, however, he strengthened his physical nature so,
that at length he became distinguished for his bodily, not
less than for his mental, accomplishments. Spenser de¬
scribes him as—
<£ In wrestling nimble, and in running swift;
In shooting steady, and in swimming strong ;
Well made to strike, to throw, to leap, to lift,
And all the sports that shepherds are among.
In every one he vanquished every one.
He vanquished all, and vanquished was of none.
From Oxford he proceeded to Cambridge, where he spent
some time, and then set out for foreign travel, in the eigh¬
teenth year of his age. Queen Elizabeth granted a licence
“to her trusty and well-beloved Philip Sidney, Esquire, to
go out of England into parts beyond the seas, with three
servants and four horses, to remain during the space of two
years immediately following his departure out of the realm,
for his attaining the knowledge of foreign languages.” He
set out for Paris in May 1572, and was specially recom¬
mended by the Earl of Leicester to Mr (afterwards Sir
Francis) Walsingham, the English ambassador there. The
French king, Charles IX., being, or pretending to he, cap¬
tivated by his manners and conversation, showed him
special marks of favour, and conferred on him the office of
gentleman ordinary of his chamber. Scarcely had he held
this office a fortnight, when the dreadful massacre of St
Bartholomew took place (24th August 1572), and Sidney
with difficulty saved his life by taking refuge in the house
of the English ambassador. He was now urged to return
home; but he chose rather to proceed on his travels. He
spent some time in Frankfort, in the house of Wechel the
printer, where he had the good fortune to make the acquaint¬
ance of the esteemed and learned Hubert Languet, who had
also escaped from the massacre of St Bartholomew. Lan¬
guet ever after manifested the deepest interest in the young
Englishman. His letters to him fill a volume; and it is
affecting to observe the extreme solicitude shown by the old
diplomatist for his young friend. “ Our friendship,” he
writes on one occasion, “and the hopes I have conceived
SIDNEY.
267
Sidney, of your character, are my only comfort; if any misfortune
ir Philip, befal you, I shall be the most unhappy of men.” He so
longed for letters from him after his return to England, that
he requested that even a servant might write him, so that
he should hear often of the son of his adoption.
Languet being appointed to represent the Elector of
Saxony at the court of Vienna, Sidney accompanied him
to that capital, and remained there for some time. From
Vienna he went to Venice, and thence to Padua, where he
spent some time, visiting also Milan and Genoa. It
may seem remarkable that he did not also, at this time,
visit Rome,—a city which, to him, would have presented
so many objects of interest; but he denied himself the
pleasure at the earnest request of Languet, who was afraid
that his Protestant principles might be contaminated in
the Romish capital,—surely a groundless fear for one of
Sidney’s character, who had, moreover, so recently witnessed
the massacre of St Bartholomew. Returning to Venice, he
thence proceeded to Poland, and took part in some skir¬
mishes between the Poles and Russians. He then went to
Vienna, and resumed his studies under the direction of
Languet. In the spring of 157o, the emperor went to
Prague to open the Bohemian Diet; Languet and Sidney
accompanied the court, saw the ceremony, and then parted.
Sidney arrived in England in the end of May 157o, and
was now the pride and admiration of the English court.
The queen herself treated him with marked kindness, and
called him “ her Philip.” The beauty and gracefulness of
his person, the benignity of his disposition, his pleasing
manners and insinuating address, all served to endear him
to all that knew him. His form was tall and manly, his
complexion fair, and his features beautiful, regular, and of
rather a feminine cast. His expression was mild and
thoughtful, approaching even to sadness, while at the same
time he was not devoid of a certain degree of sprightliness
in conversation, and abounded in a playful kind ofhumour.
In 1576 he was sent as ambassador to the court of Vienna,
accompanied by a pompous retinue, worthy alike of his
office and his sovereign, to condole with the Emperor
Rudolph on the death of his father. His mission had also
a more important object in view'—the union of all the
Protestant states in a common league in defencfe of their
religion against the ambition and intolerance of Rome and
Spain. He likewise visited the court of the Count Palatine
of the Rhine, and gained the friendship of Prince John
Casimir. But the highest testimony to his merits was his
having won the esteem and affection of William Prince
of Orange, probably the most wise and politic chief of his
time in Europe. He enjoined it to be told to the queen,
that if he were a judge, she had in Philip Sidney one of
ripest and greatest counsellors of state in that day in Europe.
Even Don Juan of Austria, in spite of his national pride
and religious bigotry, was compelled to admire and applaud
the talents and graces of the young Englishman. Sidney
returned to England in 1577, having successfully accom¬
plished his mission, and gained golden opinions wherever
he went. Till the occasion in which he lost his life he
was little employed in public service, but kept principally
about the court; and in the tilts and tournaments of the
period he was ever among the most distinguished for his
skill and daring. He did not, however, relish the life of
a courtier, and desired nothing more than to spend his
days in studious retirement in the society of a few select
friends. Soon after his return to England, he was called
upon to defend his father, who, in his endeavours to settle
the government of Ireland, met with a great amount of
opposition and misrepresentation at court. Philip warmly
espoused his cause, demonstrated the falsehood of the
various charges brought against him, and succeeded in rein¬
stating him in royal favour. He was once or twice on this
occasion betrayed into an impetuosity of temper not to be
expected from his general character, but excusable from the
times in which he lived, and the circumstances which called
them forth. His father’s letters had been betrayed, Sidney’s
suspicions fell upon his secretary, Mr Molyneux, to whom
he wrote a very intemperate and violent letter ; but as soon
as he found that his suspicions were groundless, he amply apo¬
logised. The Earl of Ormond, too, fell under his displeasure
from having attacked his father in the House of Lords.
Though allied to the queen, and high in her favour, Sidney
scrupled not to attack him in his defence, and afterwards
refused to speak to him. To the credit of the earl, how¬
ever, he refused to accept a “ quarrel from a gentleman
that is bound by nature to defend his father’s cause, and
who is otherwise furnished with so many virtues as he
knows Mr Philip to be.” The proposed marriage of the
queen with the Duke of Anjou was creating a great excite¬
ment in Protestant England, and was said to be favourably
looked upon by her Majesty, when Sidney addressed to
her a letter upon the subject, characterized by its boldness
and freedom. The Remonstrance was well received, and
probably induced her Majesty to decline the alliance. A
dispute between him and the young Earl of Oxford led to
his withdrawing himself from court for a time. While he
was playing at tennis the earl came forward and insulted
him; and having afterwards refused to apologise, the
matter was likely to become serious, when the queen her¬
self interposed, and admonished Sidney, reminding him of
the difference between lords and gentlemen. Sidney re¬
plied, “ That although he was a great lord by birth, alliance,
and grace, yet he was no lord over him,” and that “ the
difference of degrees between free men could not challenge
any other homage than that of precedence.” Though the
baldness of these sentiments did not displease the queen,
Sidney retired to Wilton, the residence of his sister, the
Countess of Pembroke, to recover his composure and
serenity of mind. It was while there that he composed
his Arcadia, chiefly for the amusement of the countess.
He had early become attached to the beautiful and ac¬
complished Lady Penelope, daughter of the Earl of Essex,
but to the great disappointment of Sidney, the match was
broken off, and the lady was married to Lord Rich, after¬
wards Earl of Warwick. He, however, married in 1583
Frances, only surviving daughter and heiress of his early
friend Sir Francis Walsingham, a lady of great beauty and
worth. The same year the queen conferred upon him the
honour of knighthood. Sidney, however, was becoming
more and more disgusted with the inactive life of a courtier.
He secretly planned to accompany Drake on an expedition
against the Spanish settlements in America. The expedition
was on the point of starting when the queen heard of it, and
Sidney was commanded not to go. About the same time
he is said to have been invited to become a competitor for
the kingdom of Poland, but the queen refused to part
“ with the jewel of her crown.” She however nominated
him governor of Flushing, one of the towns committed for
security to the English by the Dutch in their war with
Spain. He arrived there on 18th November 1585. The
Earl of Leicester followed shortly after with an English
army of 5000 foot and 1000 horse, and Sir Philip was
entrusted with the command of the horse under his uncle.
His wise counsels and conduct served in some measure to
conceal the incompetence and mismanagement of Leicester,
while his kindness and moderation smoothed the dissensions
that prevailed in the camp. In the early part of 1586 he
suffered a severe affliction in the death of both his parents
within a short time of each other. After some successes,
in which he greatly distinguished himself, he accidentally
came upon a body of 3000 Spaniards marching to the relief
of Zutphen, a town of Guelderland. At the head of 200
horse he immediately attacked them, and a desperate con¬
flict took place on the 22d September 1586. Sidney had his
Sidney,
Sir Philip.
268 A SID
SID
Sidarr^
horse killed under him, but mounting another, he continued
to charge the enemy. In the third charge he received a
wound from a musket-ball in the thigh. It was then that the
incident occurred which has done more to immortalize Sidney
than all his other acts. When leaving the field, faint and
thirsty through loss of blood, he called for some drink, which
was presently brought him. As he was putting the bottle to
his mouth, lie saw a poor soldier carried along, bleeding and
ghastly, wistfully cast his eyes at the bottle. He imme¬
diately took it, untasted, from his lips, and presented it to
the poor man, saying, “ Thy necessity is yet greater than
mine.” He lingered for sixteen days in great agony, and
during all that time he exhibited the greatest composure
and resignation to the will of God. Yet scarcely can we
suppose circumstances more calculated to call forth repining
and regret. He was yet in the early vigour of manhood,
with talents and accomplishments of a high order, the beloved
of his queen, and the most esteemed of her courtiers both
at home and abroad, and he might naturally have looked
forward to a long and brilliant career of happiness and use¬
fulness. But, believing in the principles of the Christianity
which he professed, he had listened to the reiterations of
the Preacher, that all is vanity, and had learned, from a
higher than the Preacher, to say, Not my will, but thine be
done; and so he thanked God that he did not strike him
dead at once, but gave him space to seek repentance and
reconciliation. He died on the 7th of October 1586, in the
thirty-second year of his age. His body was brought to
England, and, after lying many days in state, was interred
in Old St Paul’s Cathedral on the 16th of February 1587.
H is death was lamented throughout Europe; in England
a general mourning was observed, a respect, it is be¬
lieved, never before shown to the memory of a private
individual. Sir Philip left an only child, Elizabeth, after-
w-ards married to Rogers Manners, fifth Earl of Rutland;
but she died without issue. His widow was afterwards
twice married; first to the famous Earl of Essex, and then
to Richard de Burgh, fourth Earl of Clanricarde.
His literary works were not published till after his death.
H is Arcadia was left incomplete, and he is said, before his
death, to have requested it to be destroyed. Though now
little known, except by name, it long enjoyed an immense
popularity. As a whole it is tedious, and abounds in ex¬
travagant pictures and improbable events; but it contains
numerous passages of exquisite beauty, and “ animated de¬
scriptions, equal to any that occur in the ancient or modern
poets.” The language is natural, elegant, and copious,
above that of any other author of that period. Defence
of Poesy, published also after his death, was composed to
repel the objections of the Puritans of that period upon
poetry. It is a masterly production, displaying both erudi¬
tion and taste, and abounding in gentle touches of humour.
He likewise wrote some poems and sonnets, which are now
little known. Sidney was a generous patron of learned
men ; and learned foreigners, as well as Englishmen, sought
his acquaintance. Spenser, in particular, was much in¬
debted to him, and has taken many opportunities of intro¬
ducing him into his poetry as a model of virtue, honour, and
learning. On his death he sang his praises in a pastoral elegy,
entitled “Astrophel.” (See Memoirs of the Life and Writ¬
ings of Sir Philip Sidney, by Dr Thomas Zouch, 1808.)
SIDON, an ancient and important city of Phoenicia, is
situated on a little promontory which juts out into the Me¬
diterranean, in Lat. 33. 34. N., and Long. 35. 22. E. from
Greenwich. Josephus states that Sidonius, the eldest son
of Canaan, built a city which the Greeks called Sidon.
This statement accords with the language of Scripture,
which, though it does not expressly say, yet it plainly im¬
plies that the city was founded by Canaan’s son (Joseph.
Anti. i. 6. 2; Gen. x. 15, 19). It is worthy of remark,
however, that the name is descriptive of the site. The
word signifies “ fishing,” and the position of the Sidon.
town on a coast abounding in fish would seem to indicate
that this circumstance had suggested the appellation. In
fact, Justin affirms that the name was derived from the pe¬
culiarity of the site,—“ Condita ibi urbe quam a piscium
ubertate Sidona appellaverunt, nam pisces Phcenices Sidon
vocant” (13. 3). It is also remarkable, that we find a like
correspondence between the names of others of the early
patriarchs and the physical character of the countries they
colonized ; Aram, for example, and Canaan, the former
signifying a “ plateau,” or “ high region,” and the latter a
“ lowland.” This could not have been accidental. But
we are by no means justified in adopting the theory of
Mr Kenrick, which Professor Stanley has indorsed {Sinai
and Pal. 267), that Sidon is called the eldest born of
Canaan, figuratively as being the oldest and most important
city of the Canaanites. The fact may be satisfactorily
explained in one of two ways. Either the names were
given to the Patriarchs in prophetic allusion to their sub¬
sequent history, as in the case of Abraham ; or they were
adopted by them after taking possession of their selected
territories. When the Israelites conquered Palestine, their
historians applied to Sidon the term PlSI, “ Greatin
allusion, doubtless, to its strength and populousness (Josh,
xi. 8).
The plain of Phoenicia, at Sidon, is a little more than a Topogra-
mile in breadth, and is covered with luxuriant gardens and phy and
orchards of the choicest fruits. The ridge of Lebanon antiquities
rises abruptly over it, its rocky sides here and there diversi¬
fied by terraced vineyards and mulberry plantations. The
plain is flat and low; but near the coast-line rises a little
hill, a spur from which shoots out a few hundred yards into
the sea in a south-western direction. On the northern
slope of the promontory thus formed, stands the old city of
Sidon. The hill behind on the south is crowned by the
citadel,—a heavy square tower built by Louis IX., in 1253,
and half ruined by the fire of the British fleet under Com¬
modore Napier in 1841. A substantial modern wall, run¬
ning across the peninsula from sea to sea, defends the
town on the land side. The streets are of the usual eastern
type, narrow and crooked, encumbered with dirt and rub¬
bish ; the houses, however, are large, and some of them
even elegant, especially those built on the wall overlooking
the lovely plain. Within the town are six great khans or
caravanserais, which owe their origin to the enterprise of
Fakhr ed-Din. They are quadrangular structures, with
courts in the centre, and ranges of small cell-like chambers
all round, to serve as stores for merchandise, and lodgings
for merchants. The largest of them formerly belonged to
the French consulate and factory. The ancient architec¬
tural remains in the town are lew and insignificant. None
of the buildings are of an earlier date than the crusades.
Some marble and granite columns are here and there seen
in the modern walls and houses, and there are also a few
fragments of Mosaic pavement remaining.
The ancient harbour was formed by three irregular
ridges of rocks, which run northward from the promontory
parallel to the coast line. They are partly under water and
partly above it; and upon them may be seen some massive
fragments of ancient masonry. Old writers mention two
harbours, an outer and an inner, the latter being enclosed.
Tatius describes them with some minuteness. Scylax
also speaks of the closed port of Sidon. The position of
the two can be easily traced. The outer harbour lay to¬
wards the west, extending from near the apex of the pro¬
montory northwards, and defended by a ridge of rocks.
The inner lay in the curve of the bay, between the former
and the shore. On an isolated rock, some distance from
the beach, stand the picturesque ruins of a crusader’s castle.
It is connected with the town by a long causeway sup-
S I D O N.
Sidon. ported upon nine arches. This causeway formed the divi-
^ sion between the outer and the inner harbours.
On looking at the port and site of Sidon, one is especially
struck with their diminutive size as compared with their
ancient fame and commercial greatness. One of our ordi¬
nary ocean steamers would have completely filled the little
harbour, though it was sufficient to contain a considerable
fleet of such vessels as the ancients possessed. In the
seventeenth century it was blocked up by Fakhr ed-Din,
and now it is only accessible to small boats, while the open
roadstead on the north is extremely dangerous,
e Ceme- On the east of the town, at the base of the mountains,
y. are many rock-tombs of somewhat singular form and cha¬
racter. In places they are hewn out in tiers along the
face of the cliff, and have stairs cut in the rock leading up
to them. Their internal arrangements, like many of those
in Petra, resemble houses for the living more than tombs
for the dead. In various parts of the adjoining plain sepul¬
chral caves have been found. In January 1855, one was
accidentally opened at a spot about a mile S.E. of the city ;
and in it was discovered one of the most beautiful and in¬
teresting Phoenician monuments in existence. It is a sar¬
cophagus of black marble, the lid of which is hewn in the
form of a mummy, with the face bare. Upon the upper part
of the lid is a perfect Phoenician inscription in twenty-two
lines, and on the head of the sarcophagus itself is another
almost as long. These record the fact, that the body of a
certain Eshmonasar, king of Sidon, was once entombed
within it. It is now in the Louvre at Paris. A short
time previously, a vase was dug up in a field near Sidon,
containing a large number of gold coins, chiefly of the
times of Philip and Alexander the Great. There is scarcely
a doubt that a rich harvest of Phoenician antiquities awaits
the labours of some diligent excavator round the sites of
Sidon and Tyre.
•ts and Sidon is justly celebrated as the most ancient, and one
ences. 0f the most enterprising, commercial capitals in the world ;
but its early proficiency in science, art, and manufacture,
perhaps entitles it still more to the admiration of mankind.
Herodotus begins his history with these words:—“The
Phoenicians, who had formerly dwelt on the shores of the
Erythrean Sea, having migrated to the Mediterranean, and
settled in the parts which they now inhabit, began at once
to adventure on long voyages, freighting their vessels with
the wares of Egypt and Assyria. They landed at many
places on the coast, and among the rest at Argos.” From
this little harbour of Sidon, in all probability, went out the
first ship that crossed the Mediterranean. The enterprise
of the Phoenicians thus supplied the link to connect the
civilized east with the barbarous west, and initiated a system
which has raised Europe to its present state of intellectual,
moral, and commercial greatness. The skill of the Sido-
nians in the science of navigation is celebrated by Ezekiel
(xxvii. 8), and by the earliest classic writers. They first
discovered the pole-star, and directed their ships by it; the
constellation of the Little Bear was hence called Phoenice.
They studied astronomy, and applied it in practice to navi¬
gation. (Kenrick’s Phoenicia, p. 233, sq^)
The art of making glass was known and practised in
Sidon at a very early period. The ancients ascribe its dis¬
covery to accident; but the probability is, that the Sido-
nians got it from Egypt, where we find representations of
the process in tombs 3500 years old. They obtained their
silicious sand from the banks of the River Belus, in the Bay
of Acre, and their soda from Egypt. From the words of
Pliny it appears, that they knew the use of the blow-pipe,
the lathe, and the graver ; and they even made mirrors of
glass (36. 26). Flerodotus describes a pillar of emerald,
shining with great brilliancy at night, as one of the most
striking ornaments of the temple of Hercules at Tyre
(». 44). It was probably of coloured glass, hollow, and
269
lighted up by a lamp within. The writer has seen small Sidon.
glass-bottles of a beautiful emerald green, which were taken
from Phoenician tombs near Beyrout.
In the Homeric age, the choicest works of art were
ascribed to the Sidonians. He tells us that their gems,
their chains and ornaments of gold, captivated the hearts
of the Greek maidens {Odys. 15). The vase of silver which
Achilles offered as a prize at the funeral games of Patrocles,
was a work of the “ skilful Sidonians;” the bowl of silver
with edges of gold, presented by Menelaus to Telemaclms,
was a gift from the king of Sidon ; and the gorgeous robe
offered by the Trojan matrons to the goddess Minerva, was
the work of Sidonian women (7/. 23. 743 ; Od. 4. 618 ;
II. 6. 288). The Sidonians were also celebrated for their
bronze castings, and their ornaments of brass; and, doubt¬
less, from them the Tyrians obtained the knowledge of an
art in which they afterwards excelled.
Of the origin of Sidon nothing is known beyond what is History,
told us by Josephus, that the city was founded by the oldest
son of Canaan. It may be fairly ranked among the most
ancient cities in the world, and were its historic annals
complete, they would embrace a period of full 4000 years.
From the direct statement of Herodotus, and the incidental
notices in the Bible and Homer, it appears that the inhabi¬
tants began, almost immediately after their settlement, to
engage in commerce with foreign nations. Sidon was bet¬
ter known to the early Greeks than any other city of
Phoenicia. It alone is mentioned by Homer, and his
statements regarding it would seem to point back to a
period, traditional if not historic, when it was the capital,
and in fact the representative, of Phoenicia. Its ships then
visited the isles of Greece, and the various ports along the
shores of the Mediterranean, carrying the rich manufactures
of the city to every market, and plundering and pilfering
wherever opportunity offered.
About the twelfth century B.C., Sidon was attacked, and
apparently captured by the king of Ascalon ; on that occa¬
sion a large body of the inhabitants fled in their ships, and
took refuge in the secure island of Tyre, where Justin re¬
presents them as founding a city (18. 3). Tyre had existed
long before that time ; but it is probable that after the
arrival of the Sidonian refugees it suddenly rose to emi¬
nence, and became the capital of Phoenicia, while the
power and influence of the more ancient Sidon decreased.
From this period till B.C. 880, the history of Sidon is un¬
known. A recently deciphered Assyrian inscription shows
that it was then, with a great part of Phoenicia, subdued
by a certain Shalmanu-bar, king of Nineveh (Rawlinson’s
Herod, i. 463). From this time onwards, if we are to
believe the self-laudatory records on the monuments of
Nineveh, the Assyrian monarchs were the virtual rulers of
the Phoenician cities. Josephus states, on the authority of
Menander, that Sidon was captured by Shalmaneser about
b.c. 728 {Anti. 9. 14. 2); but as the historic tablets of
Koyunjik describe an expedition of Sennacherib, in which
he captured Sidon, banished Luliya, its king, and gave his
throne to another, it has been supposed that this is the
event referred to by Menander (Rawlinson’s Herodotus, i.
476). During the rule of the Babylonians and Persians in
Western Asia, Sidon had no separate history. In the year
B.c. 352, it headed the cities of Phoenicia in a revolt against
Persia. Its inhabitants destroyed the residence of the
Satrap, murdered many of his officers, and then collecting
a large fleet, prepared for a vigorous defence. The valour
of the Sidonians and their allies served for a time to keep
the Persian forces at bay. At length, however, a large
army was collected, and the king of Sidon fearing the
result, basely resolved to save himself by betraying his
country. One hundred Sidonian nobles were beguiled
into the enemy’s camp and murdered. Persian soldiers
were afterwards admitted into the city. The wretched in-
270
S I D
S I E
Sidon.
habitants, having previously burned their fleet, that none
might be able to flee from the common danger, now in
despair shut up themselves, their wives, their children, and
their treasures in their houses, set them on fire, and perished
together in the flames (Mela. i. 12). The authors of this
tragedy did not escape unpunished. The traitor king died
by his own hand; and when, a few years afterwards, Alex¬
ander invaded the country, the Sidonians received him
with open arms, and thus deprived Persia of the flower of
her navy.
During the period which intervened between the death
of Alexander and the Roman conquest of Syria (b.c. 323-
64), Sidon sometimes owned the sway of the Seleucidse,
sometimes of the Ptolemies, as the fortunes of war favoured
one or other; but it still contrived to retain much of its
commercial prosperity. Under the Romans this state of
affairs was not changed. The city, though subject to a
foreign power, was ruled by native princes, and enjoyed
great freedom (Joseph. Anti. 15. 4. 1). The inhabitants
now (bund both time and ample field in which to prosecute
their favourite studies of navigation, astronomy, and geo¬
graphy (Strabo, xvi). Their manufactures of glass, and
their works of art, were encouraged by the paternal govern¬
ment of Rome. In the sixth century, when Beyrout was
destroyed by an earthquake, the celebrated school of law
and philosophy, which had long flourished there, was re¬
moved to Sidon.
When the Crusaders invaded Syria, Sidon w’as still a
large and flourishing city. It was invested by the Chris¬
tian army in a.d. 1108; but the inhabitants purchased a
short respite by a large payment of gold. Three years
afterwards it was captured by Baldwin. After the fatal
battle of Hattin, Sidon fell into the hands of the Saracens,
and its fortifications were dismantled ; and when, in 1197,
the Christians again entered it, they stabled their horses in
its splendid saloons, and used their cedar ornaments for
fire-wood. The city was finally abandoned by the Chris¬
tians in 1291. In the fifteenth century it had somewhat
revived, though it was not till the seventeenth century that
it attained that degree of comparative prosperity it still
continues to enjoy. In the beginning of this century,
Fakhr ed-Din, a warlike and talented Druze prince, hav¬
ing got possession of the towns along the Syrian coast,
built a palace at Sidon, encouraged commerce, and contri¬
buted greatly to develop the resources of the surrounding
country. Unfortunately he was in a state of rebellion
against the Sultan of Turkey, and in order to prevent the
Ottoman fleet from approaching the city, he filled up the
harbour with stones and rubbish. “ Professing to be him-
sell descended from French ancestors, he treated the Chris¬
tians in his dominions with great equity, especially the
Franks, granting privileges and immunities to the Latin
convents, and encouraging the commerce of the French,
which had now extended itself to these shores. In a.d.
1658, on the establishment of a new house at Marseilles
for trading to Saida, one of its partners was appointed con¬
sul at the latter place, and D’Arvieux, a relative, repaired
thither, where he continued chiefly to reside till a.d. 1655.
To him we are indebted for a minute account of the city
as it then was, and of the state of the French trade. At
that period the French were the only nation who took part
in the commerce of Sidon and the vicinity. Their trade
had become so extensive, and so firmly established as to
bring annually 200,000 crowns into the coffers of the
Grand Seignor. Sidon was the central point, and traded
directly with the Druzes ; but the merchants established
there had factors in Ramlah, Akka, Beyrout, Tripolis, and
sometimes Tyre, who purchased up the products of the
country and transmitted them to Sidon, whence they were
shipped to Marseilles. The articles purchased and exported
by the French were cotton, both raw and spun, silk, rice,
nutgalls, ashes from the desert, bird-lime, senna, and a few
other drugs. Hitherto these had been paid for in money,
but about this time the French began to import various
articles in return” (Robinson’s Biblical Researches, ii. 483).
For more than a century and a half the French continued
to monopolize the whole trade of Sidon, which was then
the principal port of Damascus. At length in 1791, the
notorious Jezzar Pasha drove them from the city, and since
that period its trade has continued steadily to decline. At
present the tide of commerce has turned to Beyrout, and
Sidon is rarely visited by a foreign vessel. The popula¬
tion of the modern town numbers about 5000 souls, of
whom 300 are Mohammedans, 600 Jews, and the remainder
Catholic and Maronite Christians. (j. L. v.)
SIEDLEC, or Siedlce, a town of Polish Russia, capital
of a circle in the’government of Lublin, 53 miles E.S.E. of
Warsaw. It is the seat of a Roman Catholic bishop; and
contains a palace with a park, several churches and schools.
Siedlec is celebrated for its bakehouses. Pop. (1854) 7830.
SIEGEN, a walled town of Prussia, in the province of
Westphalia, government of Arnsberg, and 40 miles S.S.W.
of it, on the River Sieg. There are important mines here ;
and also manufactories of iron, steel, cotton, and woollen
cloth. The town has also a school of mining. Pop. 6928.
SIEGEN, Ludwig von, the inventor of mezzotinto en¬
graving, was born at Utrecht in 1609, of an old Westphalian
family. After receiving his education at the Collegium
Mauritianum in the town of Capel, of which his father was
superintendent, he was subsequently appointed a page to
one of the princes of Hesse. He discovered the method
of mezzotinto engraving between the years 1637 and
1641. On the 19th of August 1642 lie sent a letter, dated
from Amsterdam, to the landgrave, which disclosed his dis¬
covery, containing some proofs of a portrait of his mother
done in the newly discovered style. Meeting afterwards
with Prince Rupert in 1655 or 1656 at Brussels, after he had
entered the military service of the Duke of Wolfenbiittel,
he communicated to him his new method of engraving.
Rupert brought over the discovery to England in 1660,
and showing it to Evelyn, he afterwards got the credit of
the invention. Evelyn was then engaged on his Sculptura,
“ to which is annexed a new manner of engraving or mezzo¬
tinto, invented and communicated by his Highness Prince
Rupert,” although in the author’s paper, prepared for the
Royal Society, the invention was ascribed to a “ German
soldier.” Siegen had a paternal estate near Cologne, from
which he took the style of Von Sechten. It is not known
when he died. He was still living in 1676. (See Laborde’s
Historic de la Gravure en Maniere Noire, Paris, 1839.)
SIENA (anc. Sena Julia), a town of Tuscany, capital
of a province of the same name, in a barren and dreary
plain, 31 miles S.E. of Florence. The immediate vicinity,
however, is well planted with trees, and thus the town pre¬
sents a very fine appearance, as it is approached through
fine shady avenues. It stands on the declivities of two
hills, and its streets are in consequence in many places
very steep, so as to be impassable for carriages. They are
also narrow and irregular, generally paved with tiles, and
the town has so much declined in importance that many
of the streets are quite desolate and overgrown with grass.
The houses are for the most part built of brick, and fre¬
quently bear the imposing appellation of palaces. But
the principal buildings are the churches, foremost among
which comes the cathedral. This edifice, built in the
eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, is one of the
most characteristic examples of the Italian Gothic architec¬
ture; though producing a somewhat disagreeable effect
from the incongruity of its different parts, and the profusion
of coloured marble with which it is adorned. In the in¬
terior are several good paintings and carvings, a curious
inlaid pavement, and a beautiful marble pulpit, the work of
Siedlec
S I E
Sierra Nicolo de Pisa. Several of the other churches contain
|| valuable paintings. The principal public place, the
Sierra- fol Campo, is of a semicircular form, about 1000 feet
Leone. jn cjrcuit, and has a general slope towards one end. Here
stands the Loggia di San Paolo, celebrated in the middle
a^es as the seat of a commercial tribunal; and the Palazzo
Pubblico, with a lofty tower. This building was begun in
1295, and completed in 1327; it now contains the public
offices, law-courts, and prisons of the town. The other
palaces of Siena exhibit fine specimens of mediaeval domestic
architecture in all varieties of Gothic style. The universit}',
founded in 1203, has greatly declined from its ancient
prosperity. It has a library of about 40,000 volumes, and
5000 manuscripts, some of which are of great value.
Among the other public buildings of Siena, are an hospital,
a citadel with five bastions, several schools, &c. There are
several handsome fountains in the town, and some of the
gates are very beautiful. Some manufactures are carried
on here, the chief productions being woollen cloth, hats,
paper, and leather; and there is some trade in corn and
marble. The people of Siena boast of the purity of their
pronunciation and accent; and they certainly excel in this
respect those of Florence, though retaining some of the
harshness of the Tuscan dialect. This town was in the
middle ages one of the most celebrated and powerful re¬
publics of Italy, and played an important part in the history
of these times, when it was the rival of Florence. As the
latter city belonged to the Guelph party in the contest
between the emperor and the pope, while Siena maintained
the Ghibeline cause, or that of the emperor, frequent wars
took place between the two cities. In 1258, Farinata
degli Uberti, who had been expelled from Florence by the
Guelphs, took the command of the troops of Siena, and
gained a complete victory over his adversaries at Monte
Aperto. At a subsequent period Siena extended its domi¬
nions as far as the sea; but it never became a naval power
of anv importance. During the latter half of the fourteenth
century, vehement dissensions took place between an aris¬
tocratic and a reforming party in the state, which ended in
1384 in the expulsion of several thousands of the latter.
Peace, however, was not restored, either by this victory or
by the efforts of Pope Pius II., who visited the town in
1460; civil discords continued to rage, and in 1482 a new
revolution took place, and the old popular party was re¬
called. The government now became more democratic,
but not less turbulent or factious than it had formerly been.
For a time the ambition and ability of Pandolfo Petrucci
raised him to be virtually dictator of Siena, and the repub¬
lican form of government was enabled to survive that of
Florence by the protection of Charles V.; but the people
subsequently expelled the Spanish garrison. Fnally, in
1555, the town had to succumb to the arms of Spain, by
whom it was handed over to Duke Cosmo of Florence.
Since that time it has belonged to the Grand Duchy of
Tuscany. Its population at the height of its prosperity
was 100,000, but in 1855 was only 25,435.
SIERRA in Spanish, and Serra in Portuguese, names
literally signifying a saw, but applied in geography to
numerous mountain-ridges, both in the old and new world.
(See Spain, Portugal, Mexico, Brazil, &c.)
SIERRA-LEONE, a British settlement on the west
coast of Africa, consisting of a peninsula terminating in
Cape Sierra-Leone, and bounded on the N. by the river of
the same name. The cape lies in N. Lat. 8. 30, W. Lon.
13. 18 ; and the peninsula is 18 miles in length by 12 in
breadth, with an area of 300 square miles. The term
Sierra-Leone Coast is applied to a more widely extended
region, from Cape Verga to Sherboro Island; but the
colony itself is confined to the narrow limits above de¬
scribed. The peninsula is rugged and mountainous, its
centre being occupied by a group of conical heights,
S I E 271
densely wooded, and rising to the height of 2000 or 3000 Sierra-
feet in the Sugarloaf and Leicester Mountains, which are v ^eon^ t
the loftiest points. Between the various hills lie several v
ravines and small valleys, while in some places there are
considerable tracts of level ground. One of these level
tracts lies along the Bunce river, which forms the eastern
limit of the colony. This plain is 24 miles in length, and
varies from half a mile to 3 miles in breadth. Another
lies in the S.E. of the peninsula. Numerous streams de¬
scend from the hills, which collect into a basin called the
Bay of Franca, celebrated as a watering-place. The Sierra-
Leone is more of an estuary than a river; it is 20 miles in
length, by 10 in breadth at its mouth. It forms the outlet
of the Rokelle, a river which rises at some distance in the
interior, and affords a considerable water communication.
The range of the thermometer at Sierra-Leone is very
small, and the average heat throughout the year is 82°.
Excessive humidity characterizes the climate ; and some¬
times the rain that has fallen in two days has exceeded the
yearly average in England. The rains continue for six
months, and the torrents which descend from the moun¬
tains deluge the plains beneath. The climate is very un¬
healthy, especially for Europeans. A very dry wind from
the north-east, called the Harmattan, generally blows dur¬
ing the months of December, January, and February, and
the atmosphere then becomes full of minute particles of
sand, which prove very injurious. The land breeze also,
which blows regularly in the evening over the low and
swampy ground to the east, is laden with noxious exhala¬
tions ; but the sea breeze in the morning is cool and re¬
freshing. Remittent fevers, dysentery, and inflammation
of the liver are the most prevalent forms of disease. There
are, however, some periods of salubrity ; and the climate
is believed to have been recently improving from the clear¬
ing and drainage of the land. The prevailing geological
formation of the country is volcanic; and the most fre¬
quently occurring rocks are granite and iron-stone. The
soil is far from being naturally fertile, but it has been made
by industrious cultivation to yield many crops of various
kinds. The total extent of land under cultivation in 1853
was 9414 acres ; and in that year there were raised 35.958
bushels of cassada, 2008 of cocoa, 6313 of maize, 12.523
of ginger, 386 of ground-nuts, 548 of Guinea corn, 3303
cwt. of yams, 13,170 bunches of plantains and 11,672 ot
bananas, 1542 sugar-canes, 528 pine-apples, &c. I he edible
fruits of Sierra-Leone are numerous and luscious, including
pine-apples, the baobab, or monkey bread, a valuable tree;
oranges, plantains, bananas, limes, and many others. The
animal kingdom is very abundant, comprising many species of
antelopes, monkeys, and other denizens of a tropical country.
The live stock in the colony in the year 1856 consisted of
9 horses, 710 horned cattle, 229 sheep, and 743 goats.
Free Town, the capital of the colony, is built upon the
south side of the Sierra-Leone river, and at the northern
extremity of the peninsula. Immediately in front of the
town the river forms a bay, where there is good and com¬
modious anchorage for vessels of all classes, and timber
ships of considerable size proceed with facility nearly 20
miles higher up the stream, for the purpose of taking in
their cargoes. The town is beautifully situated on an in¬
clined plane, at the foot of some hills, on which stand the
fort and other public buildings that overlook it and the
roads, whence there is a fine prospect of the town rising in
the form of an amphitheatre from the water’s edge, above
which it is elevated 70 feet. It is regularly laid out into
broad streets parallel with the river, and intersected by
others at right angles. The buildings are commodious,
and substantially built of stone, which at once contribute
to the beauty of the place, and to the health and comfort
of the inhabitants. Numbers of cocoa-nut, orange, lime,
and banana trees are dispersed all over the town, imparting
272
S I E
Sierra-
Leone.
to it a peculiarly picturesque appearance. The public
buildings of the town comprise several substantial places
of worship, missionary institutions, schools, a market-house,
custom-house, and jail. There are good meat, poultry, and
fish markets; and almost every article of housekeeping
can be procured at the shops of the British merchants.
The population of the capital may be estimated at 16,000.
The colony is divided into five districts and into thirteen
parishes, as follows :—
Parishes. Acres.
Free Town District  1
First Eastern District  2 33,600
Second Eastern District... 2 14,600
AVestern District  3
Mountain District   5 16,700
Coloured Pop.
(1851).
17,929
5,947
7,821
5,279
7,400
Total  13
44,376
To this must be added, for the total population, 125 white
people, making in all 44,501 inhabitants.
Throughout the peninsula several villages have been
formed, viz., Leicester, founded in 1809; Regent, in 1812 ;
Gloucester, in 1816; Kissey and Leopold, in 1817 ; Char¬
lotte, Wilberforce, and Bothwell, in 1818; Kent, York,
Wellington, and Waterloo, in 1819. These villages are
generally situated in different parts of the mountain, but
all are,connected by good roads with each other and with
the capital. The two Banana Islands, situated to the south¬
west of Free Town, were ceded to the British Government
in 1819, by a family who receive an annual payment for
them. Many of the colonists, besides the Europeans, pos¬
sess considerable wealth. Some of the liberated slaves no
doubt retain their habits of indolence, but in general the
freed African relishes liberty, and is grateful for the boon
conferred on him, and several, by their industry and
economy, are said to have acquired considerable property.
There were, in 1856, 62 schools, attended by 7903 scholars,
besides 4 others for liberated blacks and native children.
A large portion of the colony are enjoying, and all have
access to, the means of moral and religious instruction.
Upwards of one-fourth are regular attendants on the public
ordinances of religion. They have built for themselves
various and expensive places of worship ; some of them
are employed as spiritual instructors of their sable brethren ;
and all together, considering its circumstances, this negro
colony is composed of an orderly and well-conducted
people. In respect of religion the population is divided as
followsEpiscopalians, 13,863 ; Wesleyan Methodists,
13,946; African Methodists, 5134; Lady Huntingdon’s
Connection, 2849 ; Baptists, 462 ; Presbyterians, 5 ;
Roman Catholics, 46 ; Jews, 3 ; Mohammedans, 2001 ; and
Pagans, 6192. There is a bishop of the English Church,
with nine clergymen, supported by the Church Missionary
Society ; and there are places of worship in almost every
village". The Wesleyan Mission has four ministers, and
several native missionaries, as well as numerous places of
worship. Agriculture has not, indeed, been sufficiently
prosecuted hitherto, but matters will improve in this respect
when population increases and presses upon the means of
supply. The trade of the colony has been fluctuating, but
on the whole increasing, for a considerable period, as will
appear from its extent at different dates—
Exports.
Tonnage
Entered.
L.58,965
71,076
66,903
65,888
103.384
115,139
170,547
180.385
23,479
26,343
17,453
19,920
23,434
26,436
38,265
35,555
Year.
1825.
1830.
1835.
1840.
1845.
1850.
1855.
1856.
Imports.
L.77,974
87,251
69,301
73,989
114,475
97,890
114,910
152,907
S 1 E
The exports and imports for 1856 were divided among Sievsk,
different countries, as follows:—
Countries. Imports.
United Kingdom  L.122,801
Gambia Colony 
United States 
France  
TenerifFe 
Madeira  
Spain  
Africa, Windward Coast ..
„ Leeward Coast 
483
15,926
8,528
135
248
38
4,067
681
Total  L.152,907
Exports.
L.37,208
6,254
52,128
57,758
2
11
14,778
12,246
L.180,385
The principal articles imported were cotton goods,
chiefly from this country, to the value of L.65,746 ; while
the most considerable exports were palm-oil and kernals,
hides and ground nuts. The exports to other parts of
Africa consisted chiefly of cotton goods from this country.
In the same year there entered 300 vessels with a ton¬
nage of 35,555, and there cleared 324 with a tonnage
of 38,672. The public revenue of the colony in 1856 was
L.35,601, and the expenditure L.34,457. The supreme
power is in the hands of a governor and a legislative
council. English law is in force, and is administered by
several courts, the highest judicial authority being in the
hands of the chief justice.
The colony of Sierra-Leone was originally established
with philanthropic designs, which have as yet only partially
succeeded. It was intended at once to sow the seeds of
civilization and religion in Western Africa, as an antidote
to the slave trade; and to provide an asylum for the many
destitute negroes who had obtained their freedom by being
brought to England, or had been dismissed from the army
and navy at the close of the American war. To Granville
Sharp and Dr Smeathman belongs the honour of having
first suggested the scheme, and of carrying it perseveringly
forward in the face of many difficulties and reverses. The
first settlement was made in 1787. Soon, however, mis¬
fortune came upon it; for in 1789 one of the neighbouring
chiefs attacked and burned the settlement, leaving hardly
time for the colonists themselves to escape. They were
subsequently collected again in a new settlement; and the
Sierra-Leone Company was soon after incorporated under
the auspices of Sharp, Wilberforce, Clarkson, and others,
for the purpose of re-organizing the colony. A fresh
detachment of negroes from Nova Scotia was conveyed
hither by the Government, and the settlement of Free
Town was founded. It was, however, depopulated by a
fever; and soon after, in 1794, plundered by a French
squadron. Once more the colony was re-established, and
this time with more success, though there were afterwards
some internal disturbances, which were only quelled by
military interference. Meanwhile, these accumulated dis¬
asters had so embarrassed the pecuniary affairs of the com¬
pany, that it was found expedient to transfer their authority
to the crown ; and thus, in 1808, the settlement of Sierra-
Leone became a Britisn colony. The nucleus had been
formed amid many difficulties of a free, civilised, and
Christian settlement in Africa; and there can be no doubt
that a great moral influence is being exerted on the native
tribes by the missionaries who labour in this colony. Since
passing into the hands of the crown, the territory of Sierra-
Leone has been increased at various times by purchases of
land from the neighbouring chiefs.
SIEVSK, or Sevsk, a town of European Russia, capital
of a circle, in the government of Orel, and 73 miles S. W. of
that town, on the Seva and the Lake Maritza. It has a
rich convent, numerous churches, an ecclesiastical semi¬
nary, manufactories of pottery and of verdigris, dye-works,
and some trade in corn. Pop. 5768.
S I E
Sieyes. SIEY^S, Emmanuel Joseph, Count, better known as
the Abbe Sieves, was born at Frejus, on the 3d of May
] 748. He was educated for the ecclesiastical profession
at the University of Paris, where his mind became early
imbued with the various schemes of social and political
reform then afloat in society. He consequently entertained
very liberal views on a great variety of social problems
which were then agitating the public mind. This did not
impede, however, his upward progress as a churchman.
Having first held some subordinate positions, he was sub¬
sequently appointed, in the year 1784, canon of the Cathe¬
dral of Chartres. From this position he rose rapidly to be
vice-general and chancellor of the diocese. He took an
active share in the assemblies of the clergy, and spared no
pains in disseminating those views which resulted in the
Revolution of 1 789. Compelled to assemble the States-
General, the question occurred to the government as to
what manner that body should be convoked. Whether
by classes, as hitherto, or by individuals? Sieyes at once
rushed into print, and by his Essai sur les Privileges,
1788, attained to a very wide notoriety. Partially satisfied
with the amount of success which had attended this pam¬
phlet, he resolved to publish another brochure. The
second, and by far the most remarkable, pamphlet, had
for its title Qu’est ce que le Tiers Etat? 1789. The doc¬
trines which the adventurous Abbe set forth were, that
the Tiers Etat was really the nation, and yet it had pos¬
sessed hitherto no adequate recognition in the state. Such
a recognition the Abbe humbly thought it required; nay,
demanded. Hence the appearance of his pamphlet. This
bold ecclesiastic resolved to write a third pamphlet, the
same year. This one had for its title Moyens d’Execution
dont les Representans de la France pourront disposer,
1789. He gave all these publications to the French people
from behind a very thin gauze of anonymity. When the
rude eyes of the Parisians were turned with an impatient
curiosity to discover who was the good author who had
made bold to speak a word in behalf of the Tiers Etat, the
thin curtain speedily disseminated like a fog-cloud before
the sun. The thin Abbe was descried in the back-ground
making his obeisance of affected humility before the French
people. The States-General being convoked, Sieyes was
chosen deputy for Paris. A majority of the noblesse and
clergy refused to unite with the Tiers Etat, when Sieyes,
after incredible speechifying, succeeded in inducing the
people to form themselves into an independent body, under
the name of the Assemblee Nationale, June 16, 1789. He
it was, also, who proposed the oath taken by all the mem¬
bers at the Jeu de Paume—“Never to separate, but to
assemble wherever circumstances required, until the per¬
fect establishment of the constitution.” Despite the vehe¬
ment opposition of Mirabeau, “Mahomet,” lor so Sieyes
was dubbed by the great orator, carried his proposal by an
immense majority. Sieyes’s vanity was puffed up to an
incredible height. The Assembly rose up to receive him,
and the meek Abbe was cheered vociferously. On the
23d of June the king declared the proceedings of the
Assembly null and void, and ordered them to disperse.
“ Disperse! we are the same to-day we were yester¬
day; let us deliberate;” said the fearless Sieyes. The
Assembly listened to his words, and the Revolution was
the result. It was at Sieyes’s instigation the ancient pro¬
vinces of France were abolished, and the realm was divided
into 80 departments. The Abbe’s seat was by no means
secure, however. When the awe created by the sharp),
logical vehemence of his appeals had passed away, there
were more than one in the National Assembly prepared to
challenge his opinion. His despotic will could brook no
contradiction, and he sank into sullen silence, from which
even the taunts of Mirabeau could not arouse him. He
broke silence once on the question of tithes, and the deter-
VOL. XX.
s I G 273
mined vehemence of his manner was evidently increased Sigiemund
by his long quiet. This speech well-nigh cost him his II
popularity. Its concluding words will long be remem- Signa.
bered. He had accused the Assembly of enriching the
wealthy proprietors of land by the gratuitous addition
of one-tenth of its value, and added, “ they wish to be free,
and know not how to be just.” In his further altercation
with the Assembly, Mirabeau remarked to him, “ You have
unloosed the bull, and you complain that it gores you.” In
the new Legislative Assembly he was chosen member for
Paris, but cautiously declined the honour of being made
constitutional bishop. He was deputy for the department
of La Sarthe in 1792, but preserved a sullen silence through¬
out the greater part of their deliberations. Different ac¬
counts are given of his conduct on the verdict which sen¬
tenced the king to death. The most authentic is that given
by Carlyle, among others, in his French Revolution (vol. I.,
p. 113, of 1856). “ Ihen see,” says the imaginative his¬
torian, “ the figure of shrill Sieyes ascend ; hardly pausing,
passing merely, the figure says, La mart, sans phrase, ‘death
without phrases, ” flinging a sarcasm at Robespierre and
company, who had wearied the Assembly by their long-
winded addresses. During the succeeding period of the
Reign of Terror, the cautious Abbe prudently retired to
the country, where he contrived to “live,” as he wittily
phrased it, during that stormy time.
In 1 /97 he had his hand shattered by a pistol-ball fired
at him by the Abbe Poule. He told his servants after¬
wards, “if Mons. Poule should return, inform him that I
am not at home.” In 1798 this constitution-builder was
sent to Berlin, on a fruitless mission, by the French Govern¬
ment, and on his return to Paris was made member of the
Directory. Shortly after he effected the closing of the noto¬
rious Jacobin Club, which sealed the unpopularity of the
author of Tiers Etat. Tired of declamation, what we want,
he said, is a “head and a sword.” Sieyes got both, sooner,
perhaps, than he expected, in Napoleon Bonaparte. The
little Corsican looked quite through Abbe Sieyes at the
first glance. They feared and hated each other heartily,
yet each was meanwhile necessary to the other. On the
9th November 1799, both were chosen Consuls along
with Ducos. Sieyes was again busy with his visionary,
logical theories of the constitution, when Napoleon watched
his opportunity and extinguished this luminary for ever.
Sieyes retired in disgust, on a rich allowance of 600,000
francs, and the estate of Crosne, which he subsequently
exchanged for a magnificent hotel in Paris, and the valu¬
able lands of Faisanderie. He received the title of Count
from Napoleon, and at the Restoration he was exiled.
Returning again to Paris in 1830, he lived in obscurity till
the 20th of June 1836, when he died. The chief works
of this architect of constitutions are, Preliminaires de la
Constitution, 1789; Observations sommaires sur les biens
Ecclesiastiques, 1789; Reconnaissance et Exposition rai-
sonnee des droits de Vhomme et du citoyen, 1789, &c. His
life has been carefully traced by Beaulieu and Capefigue, in
the Biographie Vniverselle ; and notices of him, of more or
less merit, will be found in the various histories of the French
Revolution. His character has been hit off in a sentence,
as usual, by Carlyle. “Behold him, the light, thin man;
cold but elastic, wiry; instinct with the pride of logic,
passionless, or with but one passion, that of self-conceit.”
“Polity,” said Sieyes to Dumont, “is a science I think I
have completed.” Alas, no 1 good Abbe ; it is to be feared
that science has not yet been completed.
SIGISMUND. See Austria and Poland.
SIGN A, a village of Tuscany, on the right bank of the
Arno, 7 miles W. of Florence. It contains a castle, church,
and school; and is remarkable for the manufacture of straw-
bonnets, which are reputed the best made in Tuscany.
Pop. 5500.
2 M
274
S I G
Signals,
Naval
II
Silesia.
SIGNALS, Naval. See Seamanship.
SIGNATURE, in printing, is a letter put at the bottom
of the first page at least, in each sheet, as a direction to the
binder in folding, gathering, and collating them. 1 he sig¬
natures consist of the capital letters of the alphabet, which
change in every sheet; and if there be more sheets than
letters in the alphabet, a figure is placed before the sig¬
nature, as 2 A, 2 B, &c., which are repeated as often as
necessary.
SIGNET, one of the king’s seals, made use of in sealing
his private letters, and all grants that pass by bill signed
under his Majesty’s hand. It is always in the custody of
the Secretaries of State.
SIGNORELLI, Luca, a famous Italian painter, was
born at Cortona, in 1440. He was nephew to Lazzaro
Vasari, and kinsman to the historian of art, Georgio Vasari.
He studied art under the care of Piero della Francesca at
Arezzo, where he lived with his maternal uncle Lazzaro.
Few of his paintings now remain. His most celebrated
work was the fresco of the “ Last Judgment,” in a chapel at
Orvietto, which had been begun in 1447 by Fra Giovanni
da Fiesole, and was completed by Signorelli probably about
1503. The execution of the naked figure in these elaborate
designs has been very much admired; and Vasari says,
that°Michael Angelo did not refuse to make use of Signo¬
relli’s invention in his delineation of the forms of angels and
demons in his grand painting of the “ Last Judgment” in
the Sistine chapel. He retired to his native place, where
he spent the evening ot his days in honour and tiancpiillity.
He died in 1521, aged eighty-two.
SIGONIO, Carolo, better known under the Latinized
form of his name, Carolus Sigonius, an eminent historian
and antiquary, was born at Modena in 1520. He was pupil
and successor to Franciscus Portus in the chair of Greek
literature at Modena. Having subsequently become widely
known by his publications on classical antiquity, he had
various invitations to occupy the professor s chair at dif¬
ferent university seats. He professed belles lettres at Ve¬
nice in 1552, from which place he removed to Padua to the
chair of eloquence in 1560. Here he met his old literal y
foe Robortello, who disputed with him on the names of the
Romans, till the Senate of Venice had to silence the com¬
batants. From Padua Sigonio removed to Bologna, where
he received a handsome income, and where he attiacted,
bv the accuracy and thoroughness ot his instructions, many
students to that university. Having discovered some frag¬
ments of Cicero, he undertook surreptitiously to restore the
Be Consolatione of that author. So successfully had he
imitated the style and mode of thought of the Roman, that
the work long passed for genuine, till his pupil, Riccoboni,
exposed the trick. Sigonio retired to the neighbourhood of
his native town, where he died in 1584. He left behind
him a great reputation as an elegant scholar, lo him more
recent authors have been more indebted than peihaps they
would be willing to own. His numerous writings were
collected by A/gellati, Milan, 6 vols., 1732-1737, to which
is prefixed a life of the author by Muratori. A list of his
works will be found in the Thesaurus of Graevius and Gro-
novius, and in the Biographie Universelle, vol. xlii.
SIKKIM, a petty state of India, under British protection,
bounded on the N. and E. by 1 hibet, S.E. by Bhotan, S.
by Darjeeling, and W. by Nepaul. It lies between N.
Eat. 27. 5. and 28. 3.; E. Long. 88. _2. and 8& Length
from north to south 66 miles, breadth, 52 ; area, 1670 square
miles. The state is governed by a rajah, who has been in
alliance with the British since 1814. Ihe^ chief produc¬
tions of the country are cattle and iron. Ihe culture of
the tea-plant has been introduced here by the British.
Pop. 61,766.
SILESIA (Germ. Schlesien), a province of the Prussian
monarchy, lying between N. Lat. 49. 40. and 52. 8.; E.
S I L
Long. 14. 25. and 19. 15.; bounded on the N. by the pro¬
vinces of Brandenburg and Posen, E. by Polish Russia, S. v
by Austrian Silesia, S.W.and W. by Bohemia and Saxony.
Leno-th from N.W. to S.E. 210 miles, breadth from 70 to
80 ; area, 15,720 square miles. Along the south-west fron¬
tier runs a range of mountains, called the Sudetes, which
here divide the Prussian from the Austrian dominions.
From these the country descends in a gradual slope towards
the north-east; and the Oder divides it lengthwise into
two nearly equal parts; that on its left bank, called the
German side, being more mountainous; and that to the
right, or the Polish side, more flat. The Sudetes present
for the most part a very uniform appearance, consisting of
long ridges, covered with forests, and having here and there
isolated peaks, of a rounded or dome-like appearance.
There are many pleasant valleys among these mountains;
and several passes across them. The two principal groups
of the Sudetes are the Riesen Geberge, near the north¬
west ; and the Glatz Mountains, towards the south-east ex¬
tremity of the chain. Of the former, the highest point is
the Riesen Koppe, 5060 feet high; the latter is divided
into several distinct ridges, and reaches the elevation of
4354 feet in the Schneeberg, its highest summit. Besides
these there is an isolated mountain called the Zobten, 2246
feet high, at the foot of the latter group. There are no
hills of any size on the other side of the Oder; but the
land, though flatter, is not by any means so fertile as that
which lies among the mountains on the south-west, and the
land which slopes down from them to the river. I he Oder,
the only great stream in Silesia, enters the province from
Moravia, in the south-east, and is navigable for small boats
as far as Ratibor. Its banks are in general low and uni¬
form ; but in the upper part of its course it is bordered by
mountains and oak-forests; while at various points lower
there are hills covered with vines. The principal affluents
of the Oder in Silesia are, on the right, the Klodnitz, Ma-
lapame, Stober, Weida, and Bartsch; and on the left, the
Silesian Neisse, Ohlau, Weistritz, Katzbach, and Bober.
A small portion in the extreme south-east of the province
sends its waters to the Vistula; but with this exception, the
whole waters of the province flow by the Oder into the
Baltic. There are few lakes, and these not of any great
Silesia is not, on the whole, so well cultivated as
Silesia.
size. —, - - - ^
some other parts of Prussia, and does not produce a suffi¬
ciency of corn for the domestic consumption. The extent
of arable land in the province, in 1852, was 4,418,522 acres;
of wardens and vineyards, 133,028 acres; of meadows and
pasture land, 785,531 acres; of forests, 2,313,402 acres;
and of waste land, 2,976,383 acres. Wheat is extensively
orown here, especially on the land to the east ot the Oder.
This crop is more cultivated in this than in any other pro¬
vince of Prussia. Oats, barley, rye, pulse, and potatoes,
are also raised. Flax, hemp, rape, and madder, are pro¬
duced here more largely than in any other province. Vines
are cultivated only in a few places. Considerable atten¬
tion is paid to pastoral pursuits; and large numbers of
live stock are reared. In the year 1855, there were in
Silesia 190,647 horses, 7586 mules and asses, 965,643
horned cattle, 2,431,687 sheep, 48,867 goats, and 127,0o8
pio-s. The mineral productions of Silesia are of consider¬
able importance. Gold and silver are found here to a small
extent; but the principal wealth of the land consists of the
more useful, though less valuable, metals. Iron is found in
considerable abundance; zinc comes next in point of
amount, while smaller quantities of copper, lead, &c., are
also obtained. The province contains mines of coal, quar¬
ries of marble, granite, and sandstone. The minerals of the
country are found chiefly in the upper portion; while it is
in its middle and lower parts that manufacturing industry is
most actively carried on. In 1852 there were in the pro¬
vince 10 establishments for spinning flax and hemp, 51
S I L
S I L
275
Silesia, linen manufactories, 8 cotton factories, 170 woollen factories,
Austrian 56 paper mills, 40 tanneries, 58 tobacco factories, 49 sugar-
11 houses, 1501 breweries, 1517 distilleries, 227 iron-works,
Silhet 21 machine factories, 27 glass-houses, and 39 manufactories
of earthenware and porcelain. The inhabitants are very
industrious, especially those of German origin (for a large
number of the people are of Polish extraction), and most
of the men are employed in weaving, and the women in
spinning. Besides the river, there are additional means of
communication furnished by many good roads, and by
several railways ; the chief of which are the Lower Silesian
Railway, from Berlin to Breslau, and the Upper Silesian
Railway, from Breslau to the Austrian frontier, with other
smaller lines and branches. In respect of religion, the
population belongs, in nearly equal numbers, to the Roman
Catholic and Protestant faiths; the latter numbering, in 1855,
1,617,943, and the former 1,528,300 adherents. Besides
these, there were in the same year 36,217 Jews, and a
small number of Greeks and Mennonites. The provision
made for popular education is considerable, and the propor¬
tion of the inhabitants sufficiently educated is somewhat
above the average of the provinces of the kingdom. There
is a university at Breslau, with 49 professors, and 842 stu¬
dents, in 1852. The province has also 21 gymnasiums
and 1 progymnasium, 6 normal seminaries, 46 middle
schools, and 3847 public elementary schools, with 497,697
scholars. The history of Silesia contains no events of any
interest until we come down to the middle of the last cen¬
tury. In the tenth century it came under the dominion of
the Polish sovereigns; and in 1163 was divided into three
parts, under three independent dukes or princes. Subse¬
quently the country was split into many smaller portions,
and thus reduced to such a state of weakness that the
several princes were by degrees induced to put themselves
under the protection of the king of Bohemia. Thus, in
1526, Silesia became a part of the inheritance of the house
of Austria, and remained such till the time of Maria The¬
resa. By the treaties of 1742, 1745, and 1763, Silesia was
ceded to Prussia, having been conquered by Frederick the
Great in the Seven Years’ War. It is at present divided into
the three governments of Oppeln, Breslau, and Liegnitz,
nearly corresponding to the divisions of Upper, Middle, and
Lower Silesia. Its population, in 1855, was the follow¬
ing:—
Oppeln .
Breslau.
Liegnitz
Pop.
,1,014,383
1,227,009
, 941,104
Total,
,3,182,496
Silesia, Austrian. See Austria.
SILHET, a district of British India, in the presidency
of Bengal, lying between N. Lat. 24. 3. and 25. 12.; E.
Long. 91. and 92. 38: bounded on the N. by the land of
the Garrows and the district of Jynteah; E. by the district
of Cachar; S. by Independent Tipperah; and W. by the
districts of Mymensing and Tipperah. Length from E. to
W. 102 miles; breadth, 80; area, 3532 square miles. It
forms a vast basin, enclosed on three sides, the north, east,
and south, by mountains, and only open towards the Brah¬
mapootra, which receives the rivers of the district. The
largest of these is the Soormah, which is navigable, except
during the dry season, as far as Silhet, the capital of the
district. The low country between the mountain-ranges is
undulating, and contains many alluvial tracts; but it is for
the most part very marshy. Even in the loftier portions
there are some marshes, though of less extent. A great
part of the country is occupied by forest and jungle. The
climate is moist, and not very healthy, and the soil is not
suited for many kinds of crops, though there are extensive
pastures, on which large numbers of live stock are reared.
Butter, cheese, and hides, along with grain, form the chief Silistria
articles of export. The only manufactures are a few coarse . P
cotton cloths, mats, and baskets. The population is 380,000, i ^ ^
of which about three-fifths are Brahminists, and the rest /_“L'
Mohammedans, there being very few Christians. The only
place of importance in the district is Silhet, the capital,
which is rather a large straggling village, 120 miles N.E.
of Calcutta.
SILISTRIA, a town of European Turkey, Bulgaria,
capital of an eyalet of the same name, one of the strongest
fortified places on the Danube, stands in the angle formed
between that river and its confluent the Dristra, 66 miles
N. by E. of Shumla. It is semicircular in form, and for
the most part meanly built, consisting of narrow, crooked,
and dirty streets, lined with low and gloomy houses. The
public buildings are—numerous mosques, a large Greek
church and convent, public baths, barracks, a custom-house,
and bonded warehouses. The inhabitants are principally
employed in weaving, tanning, and gardening. Some trade
is carried on in cattle, wool, and timber. The fortifications
are strong and solid ; and the place is defended by several
admirably constructed detached forts. Silistria was taken
by the Russians in 1829, after a siege of nine months, and
it remained in their hands for some time, but was afterwards
restored to Turkey. Again, in 1854, the town was attacked
by the Russians; but the Turkish garrison, aided and
directed by two British officers, made such a brave defence,
that the assailants were obliged to raise the siege. Pop.
23,000. (See Russia, § History.)
SILIUS ITALICUS, Caius, a celebrated Roman poet,
and author of the Punica, an epic poem in seventeen books,
which contains a history of the second Punic war, was born
in the reign of Tiberius, probably about a.d. 25, and is
supposed to have derived the name of Italicus from the
place of his birth ; but whether he was born at Italica in
Spain, or at Corfinium in Italy, which, according to Strabo,
had the name of Italica given it during the Social War, is a
point which is unascertained. When he, came to Rome, he
applied himself to the bar; and, by a close imitation of
Cicero, succeeded so well, that he became a celebrated
advocate, and a most accomplished orator. His merit and
character recommended him to the highest offices in the
republic, even to the consulship, of which he was possessed
when Nero died. He is said to have lent his assistance in
accusing persons of high rank and fortune, whom that
wicked emperor had devoted to destruction; but he retrieved
his character afterwards by a long and uniform course of vir¬
tuous behaviour. Vespasian sent him as proconsul into
Asia, where he behaved with great purity and unblemished
reputation. After having thus spent the best part of his
life in the service of his country, he resolved to consecrate
the remainder to retirement and the muses. He had
several fine villas in the country; one at Tusculum, cele¬
brated for having been Cicero’s, and a farm near Naples,
said to have been Virgil’s, at which was his tomb, which
Silius often visited.
He has imitated Virgil; and though he falls greatly
short of him, yet he has displayed a very great amount of
talent, which would have enabled him to succeed in some
degree in whatever he undertook. Having been for some
time afflicted with an imposthume, which was deemed incur¬
able, he grew weary of life, to which, in the language of Pliny,
he put an end with determined courage, by slowly starving
himself. This occurred about a.d. 100. There have been
many editions of Silius Italicus. A neat and correct one
was published at Leipsic in 1696, in 8vo, with short and
useful notes by Cellarius; but the best are those of Dra-
kenborch, 1717; of Mitau, 1775 ; of Ernesti, 1791 ; and of
Ruperti, 1795-98. The Punica has been translated into
English by T. Ross, 1661; and into French by Le Febvre
de Villebrune, 1781.
276
SILK.
SILK. Under the head Silk-Worm, will be found an
account of the first introduction of the insect, and the
commencement of the manufacture in the western empire.
From thence it spread into Sicily and Italy; and during
the time that the French occupied Milan (1521), artizans
were conveyed by Francis I. to Lyons, and under his pro¬
tection the manufacture of silk made great progress.
When the Duke of Parma took and plundered the city of
Antwerp in 1585, a great proportion of the merchants and
artizans took refuge in England; these introduced the silk
manufucture into tins country, which was fostered and encou¬
raged by the English government. Before this period the
produce of the silk-worm had been little seen in England.
The climate of England has not been found favourable
for the rearing of silk-wrorms : repeated attempts have been
made to cultivate the breed with profit, but they have al¬
ways failed. It was supposed that the British settlements
in America would prove more favourable for this purpose,
and in several of them the experiment was made; but
though a large quantity of excellent silk was produced, the
business of planting mulberry-trees and rearing worms in
the northern United States having been made the basis of
a monstrous stock exchange speculation, and consequent
ruin to many, the whole effort has become nearly abortive,
for the present at least.
The manufacture of silk goods has been the object of
solicitous care to the British government, and various en¬
actments were made by successive monarchs, with the view
of encouraging it in this country. It received a great sti¬
mulus in 1685, when the revocation of the edict of Nantes
banished from France multitudes of her most industrious and
skilful artificers, which greatly benefited the countries that
sheltered the injured emigrants. About 70,000 took refuge
in England and Ireland, and transplanted various branches
of the useful arts to different districts of this country. A
large body of silk-weavers settled in Spittalfields, where
descendants of many of them may still be found.
England was, however, entirely dependent on foreigners
for organzine silk thread, till Mr Lombe of Derby, in the year •
1718, having gone to Italy in the disguise of a common
workman, took drawings of the silk-throwing machinery in
Piedmont, and, on his return, erected a large mill on the
river Derwent at Derby. The extensive and powerful
machinery of this mill contained 26,586 wheels, and 97,746
movements, which worked 73,726 yards of organzine silk
thread, by every revolution of the water-wheel, which revolved
three times in the minute, and thus produced 318,504,960
yards oforganzine per day. The same amount ofmotive-power
employed upon the beautiful, compact, and simplified throw¬
ing machinery now at work at Derby and elsewhere, would
bring out far greater results both in quantity and quality.
The silk manufacture continued to increase in England,
though the workmen were constantly clamouring against
the importation of foreign goods. With a view to encour¬
age the manufacture, an act was passed (3 Geo. I. cap. 15)
for granting bounties on the exportation of silk fabrics ; this
was, however, no more than a drawback of part of the duties
paid on the importation of the raw silk. In 1741, permis¬
sion was given to the Russian Company to import the raw
silk of Persia at the same rate of duty as from the Levant;
and, in 1749, the same reduction was made on the duties
on raw silk imported by the East India Company from
China. In 1764, the fashion of the times running in favour
of French silks, and the wages of the English weavers being
low, and work scarce, the operatives assembled in great
multitudes, and in a tumultuous manner presented petitions
to Parliament, praying for the total prohibition of foreign
wrought silks. By the representation which the operatives
made of their sufferings, Parliament was induced to reduce
the duties on raw and thrown silk, and entirely to prohibit
the importation of certain articles of manufactured silk goods.
The operative weavers did not, however, derive those be¬
nefits from the prohibitions against importation which they
expected, and they had frequently recourse to combinations
to force their masters to raise
their wages. These disputes
between the masters and work¬
men having led to violence and
riot, an act was passed in 1773,
and confirmed by two subse¬
quent acts, empowering the al¬
dermen of London, and the ma¬
gistrates of Middlesex, to fix the
wages of the Spittalfields weav¬
ers. But it is unnecessary to
recapitulate the applications of
the operatives and manufactures
for protection against foreign
competition, and the attempts
of the legislature to encourage
the manufacture by restrictive
and prohibitory enactments from
1773 to 1824; the silk trade in
England, from the futile at¬
tempts to bolster it up, was kept
in an artificial and languishing
state. The manufacturer, de¬
pending upon the protection of
parliamentary restrictions on fo¬
reign competition, rather than on
his own skill and exertions, was
not anxious to discover and in¬
troduce improvements into the
manufacture. Since the change
of system, the imports of the raw
material, and the exports of the
manufactured article have ra¬
pidly increased. In 1825 there
Table of Imports and Exports of Silk to and from the United Kinqdom in \ 856,
1857, and 1858.
Imports—Year ending 31st Dec.
as per landing accounts.
Silk, Raw—
From China 
„ British East Indies
and Egypt 
„ Other Countries 
Total 
Silk, Waste—Knubs & Husks
Silk, Thrown—
From France 
„ China 
,, Other Countries ...
Total.
Silk Manufactured Goods—
Of Europe—
Broad Stuffs, Silks or 1
Satins J
Broad Stuffs, Gauze, j
Crape, and Velvet.... )
Ribbons, all kinds 
Plush for Hats 
Total.
Of India—
Bandannas, Corahs,)
Choppas,Tussore, Ro- >
mals, and Tafifeties... J
Within these years respectively.
lb,
3,723,693
3,124,778
535,201
6,664,532
4,678,415
734,984
7,383,672 12,077,931 6,277,576
2,011,186
3,652,617
613,773
Being of real value computed.
1856.
3,198,190
2,625,611
571,385
1857.
L.
5,571,149
4,860,554
1,170,633
6,395,186 11,602,336 5,791,216
1858.
1,672,128
3,324,269
794,819
lb. lb. lb.
2,015,211 2,316,160 1,877,680
lb.
331,048
428,553
93,414
289,800
262,494
88,642
853,015 640,936
lb.
124,129
185,990
48,150
358,269
230,568
39,529
463,780
170,936
204,297
27,598
375,890
118,368
904.813 726,154 827,650
lb.
277,163
32,762
383,619
134,106
Pieces.
601,461
Pieces.
370,295
Pieces.
207,081
541,454
330,150
167,937
1,039,541
L.
594,498
287,377
188,090
207,031
170,346
80,489
1,069,965 457,866
Entered, Home Consumption.
lb.
229,288
38,294
[441,421
170,818
879,821
lb.
197,550
26,282
363,159
118,717
705,708
lb.
270,914
31,681
376,562
133,738
812,895
Pieces.
108,193
Pieces.
93,014
Pieces.
83,012
The silk in 1858 paid in customs duties, L.270,536.
SILK.
Table of Exports and Imports of Silk—continued.
Exports—Year ending 31sfc Dee.
Silk-
Raw  
Waste Knubs, Rusks
Thrown (foreign) 
Silk Manufactures—
Europe   
India.
Silk Manufactures, English—
Stuffs, Handkerchiefs, and 1
Ribbons..., }
Other articles, Silk only 1
(entered at value) )
Do. mixed with Silk 
Total.
Silk-
Thrown (English) 
Twist and Yarn (do.).
Total.
1,438.598
62,944
282,705
lb.
21,966
Pieces.
396,316
lb.
665,218
841,553
602,859
1,444,412
1857.
1,706,625
105,168
238,529
1858.
lb.
2,314,519
272,048
364,680
lb.
21,682
Pieces.
324,664
lb.
18,092
Pieces.
227,139
lb.
624,894
lb.
489,709
641,204
577,116
1,218,320
lb.
551,281
442,641
993,922
Declared Value.
773,389
557,362
427,906
L.
907,480
295,919
1,203,399
1857.
803,502
479,115
520,593
1,758,657 1,803.210 1,304,945
1858.
603,699
328,710
372,536
L.
769,897
316,722
1,086,619
563,002
228,644
791,646
All silks are now imported/ree of duty.
Manufactures of silk pay an average of 15 per cent, duty on importation.
’K. were at most 24,000 English
s&mA silk looms employed. In 1855
at least 110,000, using 5,400,000
lb. of thrown silk, and produc¬
ing goods valued at L.8,800,000,
besides spun - silk and mixed
goods of uncertain amount. The
English consumed in 1855 of
her own silk goods, L.7,200,000;
and imported L.4,000,000. In
1856 the probable returns of
the English silk manufactures
were L.11,000,000. In 1857
L.l9,000,000. In 1858 (a vear
of panic) L.l0,000,000. 1859
will be about L.14,000,000.
Nothing more fully demon¬
strates the folly of attempting
to encourage manufacturers by
prohibiting importation than
the history of the silk trade.
The greatest importation of
raw and thrown silk which took
place in any one year, pre¬
vious to the repeal of the pro¬
hibitory system, was in 1833,
when the quantity imported
was 2,432,286 lb.; while, by
the foregoing table, it appears that 11,266,8201b. were im¬
ported, on an average of the years 1856, 1857, 1858, at
the same time that the official value of our silk manufac¬
tures exported during the same period was L. 140,520 dur¬
ing 1823, and L.l,622,270 on the three years average, to¬
gether with L.1,027,220, the average annual value in 1856,
1857, 1858, of English thrown silk and spun-silk exported.
The larger proportion of both classes was to France. Total
of silk manufactured goods exported from England in 1844,
L.736,455; in 1858, L.2,391,506.
It is an inquiry of great interest, what may be con¬
sidered a fair approximation to the amount of silk produced
in various countries of the world, and from which English
manufacturers must seek their supplies. We shall endea¬
vour to give reliable figures, so far as enabled to collect
them, confining ourselves to weights rather than the ex¬
cessively fluctuating values. The inferences which must
be drawn by a due comparison and estimate of them, are
exceedingly important in regard to the future extent and
profitable employment of labour and capital in European
silk business, especially that of the United Kingdom.
There are few of the four hundred millions of its popula¬
tion, except the lowest classes in China, but what are clad in
silk garments. The weight or value of the silk thus pro¬
duced for home consumption is unknown. The exporta¬
tion to England from 1795 to 1810, averaged in sixteen years
85,810 lb. per annum ; from 1810 to 1822 inclusive, twelve
years, 164,166 lb.; 1830 to 1841, eleven years, average
was 808,000 lb. The export from China in 1858 was
78,154 bales, equal to about 9,376,000 lb. weight of silk.
The average of English imports of China silk for 1856,1857,
1858, was 4,133,1001b. No doubt, inasmuch as in all China
proper, except the northernmost districts, silk is grown, its
power of extended export is indefinite. The price has
as yet gradually increased with the surprisingly enlarged
demand. The China silk production and reeling is almost
entirely a peasant one.
The production of “ filature” silk under the management
of the East India Company, was from 15,723 reeling basins,
in 12 principal silk factories; the cocoons being produced
by “ryots” (peasants), and paid for at prices fixed by the
company’s agents. Private traders at length were per¬
mitted to enter into this business. At present it is alto¬
gether an ordinary commercial operation, except that the
company lay a double tax on land used for tbe growth
of mulberries. In 1750 England imported 80,000 lb.
Bengal raw silk; 1795 to 1809, an average of 401,600 lb.
a year; 1810 to 1820, 814,600 1b. The average import
of the years 1856, 1857, 1858, from Bengal (including a
small amount from Egypt) into England was 3,818,6661b.,
of the annual value ot L.3,603,000. How the intrinsic
value per lb. might be raised is shown elsewhere in this
article. The supply might certainly be made an unlimited
one with great advantage both to India and England.
How much raw silk of commerce is consumed in India
is not known, probably not much. Tussah and other wild
silks are used immensely. In Cochin-China and Siam,
there is a considerable production of silk. Of the amount
we have no reliable statement. The like may be said of
Japan ; from which country, however, at the time of writ¬
ing, we learn that a shipment of 1000 bales of strong coarse
silk is on its way to this country. It is said, on fair au¬
thority, that the price amongst natives of these countries
is from 5s. to 6s. English per pound weight. In the Island
of Madagascar silk-worms of great size are fed in open fields
on pigeon-pea (ambiravatry) and give very large cocoons.
Persia grows silk for home use largely, and exports con¬
siderably. The imports into England from 1830 to 1840,
was, on average, 125,000 lb. a year. This amount is now
increased. The quality is low, being ill reeled and irre¬
gular. From Asia-Minor a silk is exported to England and
France in large quantity, because of its rapidly improved
manipulation of the cocoons (which are of unsurpassed
excellence, and largely importing now into France), in reel¬
ing into skeins of small instead of large circumference. Of
Brutia “old long reel” we imported 251,850 lb.; and of
“new short reel,” 319,000 lb.; making a total of 570,850
lb. annually, on an average of ten years ending 1840. The
actual production is about 1,200,000 lb. per annum, of
which England uses 500,000 lb. It is computed that in 1836
Syria produced 856,800 lb., and Asia 132,000 lb.; Cyprus
and Crete about 50,000 lb. Tripoli produced in 1842
45,000 oques, or 126,000 lb. English of silk, worth 20s.
per oque. Of the produce of Turkey in Europe no exact
account can be given. The government levies 20 per
cent, or more on silk exported, and prohibits export of
278
SILK.
Silk. cocoons. The Morea produced, in 1824, 71,000 oques, or
-V—^ 200 000 lb. English of silk, inferior in quality. 1 he aver¬
age amount of silk raised in Hungary was lately estimated
at more than 200,000 lb. yearly, produced in 40 localities,
and from a million and a half of mulberry-trees. In Po¬
land and even in Russia, silk is produced, but at present
in small quanties. Spain produced in 1842 about 2,000,000
lb. weight of silk, three-fifths of which was obtained in
Valencia, and one-fifth each in Murcia and Granada. The
Catalonians used 400,000 lb., and there were exported
1 400 000 lb. The cocoons are excellent, and may be ex¬
ported free. Peasant reeling is very irregular; and raw
silk resulting from it, not of even and clean quality. The
growth of silk might be greatly extended ; for the otherwise
barren soil of many tracts in Spain could be made, with little
trouble and expense, to grow mulberry-trees, and to vast
advantage. As the Valencia silks, where reeled skilfully,
are of magnificent quality, and the stuffs manufactured from
them command high prices and ready sale, there only needs
capital and internal tranquillity to make Spain a far greater
silk-producing country than at present.
The Milanese has long been a large field for the cultiva¬
tion of silk. In 1825, we took an account of the basins
reeling silk (averaging lbs. per day, for about 100 days, in¬
cluded in the reeling season, if by proprietors of filatures, and
1 lb. by smaller producers), and were enabled to enumerate
20,395 basins, which, in that year, gave 2,652,000 lb. raw silk,
value L.2,387,000 ; probably, 4000 or 5000 basins were not
seen. In 1800, 1,800,000 lb. of raw silk was said to have
been collected. But, in 1858, the quantity was believed,
by Italian silk dealers, to have been increased threefold at
least—say 5,400,000 lb.; and the money value certainly
would be fivefold in amount to that paid for this article to
the Lombard growers in 1800. Nearly all was exported in
1825 ; 2400 looms only being at work in Milanese. At pre¬
sent, a larger proportion is consumed in the territory where
grown. In 1825, Piedmont produced 1,440,000 lb., of
a superior quality, all things considered, to any other silk,
except that of the Cevennes, France. The greater part is
thrown now, as then, and exported to Germany, France,
and England. The present weight of Piedmontese silk
grown is not known to us. A very large amount is of white
colour (iVoui), and a larger worm is bred, and produces
cocoons so large as only to require 100 to 120 to the pound.
Tuscany, the Romagna, Naples, and Calabria, produced, in
1825, 1,500,000 lb. of raw silk, from very excellent co¬
coons ; but reeled with various degrees of care and success.
Amongst them, Fossombrone is a celebrated quality. 1 he
Royal Neapolitan Filature produces superior silk. Cala¬
brian stands low in the scale of quality. The “ Annuario
Statistico Italicino” of 1858, estimates the total Italian
production to be of the annual value of L.8,000,000 sterling
to L.10,000,000 sterling. But this must be much below the
real amount. The selling price of all raw silk has been for
several years 50 per cent, higher than in 1825, when, un¬
doubtedly, the value of the Italian production was at least
L.6,000,000 sterling. The increased quantity grown in
Lombardy alone would therefore raise the total annual value
of Italian silk beyond L.10,000,000 sterling. From an offi¬
cial source we learn, that, in 1851, the Austrian dominions
produced L.4,340,000 sterling, in raw silk, and L.2,840,000
sterling, in manufactured silks, making a total of L. 7,200,000
sterling. This total had been raised, in 1855, to L.12,000,000.
The increase must have included a large proportion of Mi¬
lanese raw silk. This advance in quantity is to be attributed
to the great excellence attained by reelers in the north of
Italy. Prussian silk manufacture has rapidly increased. In
1831, the number of looms was 8956 ; in 1837, 14,111; in
1855, there were nearly 25,000.
It may here be stated, that, in the Swiss cantons, Basle
and Zurich, the looms, chiefly alimented with silk from
Northern Italy and Bengal, and which, in 1851, were
under 30,000, had increased, in 1855, to 40,000, and pro-
duced about L.4,000,000 sterling of manufactured goods;
importing the raw materials, and exporting nearly all the stuffs
produced (which are amongst the best in the world), without
intervention, or protection, premiums, or custom-houses.
The Zollverein exports ribbons and broad silks largely to
France. In 1854, in those states, 1,600,000 lb. weight of
raw silk, worth L. 1,760,000 sterling, was worked up, on
40,000 looms, into L.3,055,000 sterling of articles of silk
entirely, and 1,050,000 lb. weight of mixed materials. The
silk business of France is one of its most important sources
of agricultural wealth, in the growth of the mulberry, of do¬
mestic employment in tending the caterpillars, and of fac¬
tory capital, skill, and labour, in breeding worms, on the
larger scale ; as also in reeling and throwing raw silk.
Subsequent processes in weaving, dyeing, &c., are alike
extensive and valuable.
The report of French jury, in 1855, makes the following
remarks:—“ Every day shows more and more the advan¬
tage to the health of silk-worms, of breaking up the large
establishments for breeding silk-worms (Magnaneries) ;
i. e., returning to peasant or small “ recolts ; ” and, on the
other hand, of improving the reeling of cocoons and throw¬
ing of silk, by increasing the size of establishments for those
purposes. It is now incontestible, that small separate
growths of cocoons produce more cocoons, and of superior
quality, while the excellence of the silk from them is greatly
promoted by cessation of domestic reeling. In both these
respects, Piedmont and France are making great progress,
followed very closely bjr Lombardy. In each, the growth
of the mulberry, species of worms and their management,
together with the arts and mechanism for reeling and throw¬
ing silk, are receiving successful attention.” Ini 789, F ranee
produced 1,000,000 lb. of raw silk. In 1812, 590,750 lb.
raw, and 342,000 lb. organzine ; total, 932,750 lb., worth
L. 1,000,000 sterling; and imported 900,000 lb., valued at
L.1,350,000; in 1825, 1,600,000 lb., worth L.1,750,000.
From henceforth, about half was produced by peasants.
The French consumed, this year, L.3,000,000 lb. Looms,
which had been in seven of the principal towns, 27,432
(in Lyons, 10,720) in 1812, had become in Lyons alone,
in 1824, 24,000. These increased, so as that, in 1839,
Lyons employed 40,000 looms, and 80,000 workmen.
The whole of France, 84,648 looms, and 169,280 work¬
men, and the same number of assistants. The produce
was a return that year of L.4,000,000 sterling at Lyons;
that of the whole of France being L.9,260,000 sterling. 01
this sum the silk cost L.5,600,000 sterling, and wages
and profits were L.3,660,000 sterling. The value of the silk
grown in France, in 1850, was L.6,000,000 sterling. Silk
goods were produced there that year of L. 15,000,000 ster¬
ling value ; of which about L.5,000,000 sterling was for
home consumption, and L.10,000,000 sterling for export.
The home consumption of France had increased in 1855, 47
per cent., the home consumption 33 per cent.; so that the
whole production of French goods, pure and mixed, in 1855,
was about L.21,300,000 sterling. This consisted of materials
two-thirds, and one-third labour and profit; i. e., of imported
silk 5,000,000 lb. costing L.5,300,000 sterling; French
raw silk, 6,100,000 lb., costing L.7,600,000 sterling. Other
materials, as cotton, wool, linen, silver, &c., of the value of
L.1,300,000 sterling. Total materials, L.14,200,000; work¬
manship and profits, L.7,100,000 sterling. Entire home
consumption of silk goods of French origin L.7,000,000,
and exported L.14,000,000 sterling. The annual pro¬
duction of a French silk-loom is rather below L.100 ster¬
ling. The number of looms was, in 1855, about 220,000.
The importation of raw and thrown silk into France rose
from L.3,346,000 sterling, in 1851, to L.5,280,000 sterling,
in 1855. The exports rose from L.654,360 sterling, in
SILK.
Ik Manu-1851, to LI,560,000 sterling in 1855. There were about
ucture. .500,000 people employed ; which is about one in eighty of
^ the entire population. The excellence of materials used,
solidity of workmanship, unsurpassed taste in colour and
design, and plan pursued by best manufacturers only to
work to order, render the continued increase of the silk pro¬
duction and manufacture of France certain. It is but jus¬
tice to French public spirit and enterprise to state, that in
all the eight principal silk growing departments, as well as,
particularly, in Lyons and Paris, unexampled efforts are
putting forth, in regard to the great and vital questions—
breeding and cross-breeding of silk-worms, causes of epide¬
mics which have been sweeping over silk growing countries
of late years, and the true economy in management, in all
other respects, both of trees, worms, and their produce.
Results have been arrived at by experiments on a small
scale, which, if verified by a lengthened experience, will
certainly tend to considerable decrease of cost, and, of course,
increase in demand both at home and abroad. The an¬
nexed table shows that the average weight of raw and
thrown silks imported into England in 1856, 1857, and
1858, was 11,266,918 lb., and we have already seen that
the English silk trade returns this year about L.14,000,000
sterling. To this sum being added for France, L.21,300,000
sterling; Zollverein, L.4,105,000 sterling; Switzerland,
L.4,000,000 sterling ; Austrian States, L.7,200,000 ster¬
ling ; and L.5,000,000 sterling for Spain, Italy, Turkey,
Greece, &c. the total of silk manufactures produced in
Europe would amount to L.55,605,000 per annum.
Silk Manufacture. The processes of silk manufacture
fall under two great divisions. The one, comprehending
all those operations undergone by the silk in its preparation
for textile or other purposes ; and the other, those by which
the prepared silk is formed into the various beautiful crea¬
tions of the loom. The operations comprehended in the
first division being for the most part peculiar to this manu¬
facture, are those which will here occupy our attention ;
while those of the second division, being common to the
various textile substances, will be found described under the
general head Weaving.
In other textile substances, the manufacturer operates
upon bundles of short fibres, which, by drawing out and
twisting together, he forms into continuous threads; but in
the case of silk, a very different treatment is for the most
part required. Here the silk-worm is the spinner, and art
is called in, not to join short filaments, but so to strengthen
the delicate threads of the worm by combination as to fit
them to endure the manipulations to which they are after¬
wards subjected. We have said for the most part, for this
reason, that, from the manner in which the worm labours,
there arises a necessity for two modes of operating, one of
the nature already described, the other analogous to that of
the cotton-spinner; and that the reader may be prepared
to understand the reason for this, and many other peculiari¬
ties arising from the same cause, we shall here present him
with a sketch of the manner in which the worm produces
the material to be operated upon ; and this sketch needs to
be but brief, as in the article Silk-Worm, immediately
sequent, the fullest imformation will be found. When the
silk-worm has arrived at that stage of its existence at which
it begins to spin, it ceases to feed, grows restless, and moves
about, seeking a place wherein to commence its labours.
When it has found a corner or hollow fit for its purpose
(bunches of dried heather are most properly placed for this
purpose), it attaches a long thread from side to side, to
form a support for its work; this it does not dispose in any
regular manner, but crosses and recrosses it in such a way
as to make its work as strong as the situation will admit of.
In plying its labours, the little creature by degrees narrows
its sphere, and when it has enclosed a space of about the
size of a pigeon’s egg, its work assumes a more regular cha-
279
racter, and shortly presents the appearance of a loose silken Silk Manu-
ball of an oval shape, with the worm labouring inside of it. facture.
In a little while, the increasing compactness of the ball
renders the labours of the worm no longer evident to the
eye, and that it continues to work can only be known by
the noise within. When all sound has ceased, the forma¬
tion of silk has also ceased. Although from the compact¬
ness of the ball, the worm labours unseen, we can yet tell
by after dissection, and by the unwinding of the thread,
that it does not lay its thread regularly round the inside of
the ball, but to and fro from one spot to another, for many
times, gradually shifting its position, until it has gone over
the whole surface, and so gradually, that a great many yards
of thread may be unwound without once turning the ball.
The thread of the silk-worm is secreted by the animal in
the form of a fine yellow transparent substance, and exuded
by two minute orifices beneath its jaw; hence the thread
is a twin one, formed of two threads proceeding from these
orifices, cemented together by a gummy varnish, and
when the worm has finished its labour of spinning, it
smears over the whole interior surface of its work with
the same gum and albumen, doubtless for the purpose ot
protecting it in its chrysalis state from rain. If we examine
the finished work of the worm, we shall find it to consist
first of a filament used as that irregularly placed support,
and next of a ball of a loose texture and irregularly con¬
structed, serving as an envelope for another ball, compact
in its nature, and regular in its formation, within which the
worm lies enshrouded. This compact ball is called a
cocoon, and its soft envelope floss silk. The thread of
the cocoon, from the continuity of its deposition, can be
unwound to the end, and the operations to which it is
afterwards subjected are those of doubling, twisting, twin¬
ing, and their accessories, classed under the name of silk
throwing. The floss silk, with the additions afterwards to
be noticed, is not unwound, but, under the name of waste,
has its filaments hackled, combed, and reduced to short
lengths, and then carded and spun in a manner analogous
to those of cotton.
When the spinning of the cocoons is accomplished, a
selection of those that are to be kept for breeding is made,
and the remainder are assorted according to their qualities.
These are generally reckoned nine, and are as follows :—
1st, Good cocoons; these are strong, firm, and nearly
equally round at both ends, not very large, but free from
spots.
2d, Calcined cocoons, in which the worm has died, and
been reduced to powder by a disease which sometimes at¬
tacks them after having completed their work.
Zd, Cocalons, larger and less compact than the good co¬
coons.
Ath, Choquettes, cocoons in which the worm had died
before it had finished spinning; the silk is fine, but apt to
furze in winding.
oth, Dupion, or double cocoons, containing two or more
larvae ; these are difficult to unwind, and are often kept for
seed by ignorant breeders, but the best formed by single
worms are selected by experienced growers of silk.
Qth, Soufflon, cocoons of so loose and soft a texture as
to be almost transparent; these cannot be unwound.
1th, Pointed cocoons. In these one end rises in a point,
which breaks off after a little silk has been unwound, and
so spoils the thread.
8th, Perforated cocoons, from which the moth has made
its way out.
§th. Bad choquettes, in which the silk is spotted, rotten,
and blackish in colour.
The first operation to be performed, preparatory to the
unwinding of the silk from the cocoon, is to destroy the
vitality of the contained worm. The means used for this is
heat, either natural or artificial; sometimes simple exposure
280
SILK.
Silk Maim- to the solar rays will effect this object; but in climates
facture. where these have not power, some artificial heat must be
employed, such as the heat of steam or ot an oven, but
more generally that of the latter, though steam-baths are
greatly to be preferred. The heat should not be greater
than what is used in the oven after the bread has been
withdrawn. Long shallow baskets are taken and filled
nearly to their tops with cocoons, and are covered over,
first with paper, and then with cloth. In these baskets,
the cocoons are exposed to the heat of the oven for
nearly an hour, and on being withdrawn, several cocoons
are chosen from the part of the basket least exposed to the
heat, and the chrysalides in them stripped and pricked with
a needle. If upon being pricked, they give no sign of ani¬
mation, it may be fairly presumed that the destruction of
the creatures has been accomplished. Before the silk of
the cocoons can be reeled off', it is necessary to separate
them from the floss in which they are enveloped; this is
effected by opening the floss covering at one end, and pro¬
truding the cocoon. It is of the greatest importance in the
reeling process, that all the cocoons reeled together be of
one class.
The apparatus for reeling is sketched in fig. 1, and to
avoid confusion, the Fig. i.
working parts only
are shown: a a is
a bath or vessel of
water, which, when
of the best con¬
struction, is heated
by steam. Into
this the cocoons
are put, that the
gum which retains
the thread in its
place may be so much softened as to permit the thread to
be unwound ; the bath is usually divided by three partitions
into four divisions, each of which may contain about five
cocoons ; bbb are wires with eyelets at their ends, through
which the filaments from the cocoons are put. In their
upward progress towards the reel, the groups of filaments
are twisted round each other, before their final combina¬
tion at the last eyelet, and by the friction thus produced,
they are freed from an adhering portion of the gum ; c is the
reel driven by a belt from the pulley d, which is itself driven
by the prime mover, whatever that may be ;/is a tumbler,
whose end carries a pulley, which presses on the belt that
drives the reel; by lifting up the long end of the tumbler,
the belt is slackened, and the reel stops. The filaments
when combined at the upper eyelet, pass along the guide
ee, and through eyelets at its ends; this guide has a pin pro¬
jecting from its under side, working in a spiral groove cut
round the barrel h ; by this it receives a reciprocating mo¬
tion, and so spreads the filaments equally over the reel.
The filaments, in their passage from the bath to the reel,
must necessarily traverse a considerable space, to allow their
softened gum to be again hardened by the air, that they
may not afterwards adhere together. In China a fire is
placed mid-way between the reel and the basin with some
advantage.
In the place where the reeling of silk is performed, many
of these machines are arranged along the building, and
driven by the moving power through a shaft extending the
whole length, carrying on it pullies, at the proper intervals.
In working the apparatus, the reeler, who is generally a
woman, sits at the bath, and having taken a number of
cocoons, immerses them in the water. When their gum is
sufficiently softened to permit the thread to come off, the
reeler takes a whisk formed of fine twigs bound together,
and cut off evenly at the ends at about six inches long, and
with it she gently presses and stirs the cocoons, and en¬
tangles their loose threads on its points ; she then raises her Silk Manu
whisk with the thread of each attached to it, disengages facture.
them from it, and draws their ends through her fingers, to
remove the outside floss or impurity ; this process is called
battue. Having thus freed the ends of such a number of
the filaments as she means to use, she passes them through
the various eyelets in the manner previously mentioned, and
attaches them to the reel; when this is accomplished, the
reel is put in motion by dropping the end of the tumbler,
and the filaments are drawn from the cocoons. It is the
province of the reeler so to regulate the motion of the reel,
and the heat of the water, that the silk may come off the
cocoons regularly, not in lumps, which shows that the water
is too hot; nor in such a manner as that the cocoon shall be
tossed out of the bath, which shows that the silk is yielded
with difficulty, from the water being too cold sufficiently to
soften the gum.
From the threads of the cocoons being finer near their
termination than at their commencement, it becomes ne¬
cessary for the reeler to add other cocoons before the first
set is quite exhausted; and it is her care to do so in such a
manner as that the requisite thickness of the compound
thread may be kept up throughout. It is generally con¬
sidered that the filaments of three fresh cocoons added to
two half-wound ones, make a thread equal to that from four
fresh cocoons.
The cocoons may not entirely wind off, but the husk,
or bairre, in which the worm lies, if left, is used along with
the floss silk, under the name of waste.
Ordinarily, in China and throughout Europe, 11 or 12 lb.
of cocoons yield 1 lb. of reeled silk; and as it takes from
240 to 250 cocoons to weigh 1 lb., the number of cocoons
necessary to produce 1 lb. of silk may be reckoned to be
2800; cocoons may yield about 600 yards of silk, conse¬
quently the pound of silk filament, as produced by the
worm, would, if stretched out, reach the amazing length of
500 to 1000 miles.
When a sufficient quantity of silk is reeled off, it is
folded into a hank for use or sale ; and it is in this state
that it generally comes to be operated upon by our manu¬
facturers,—the hanks by the silk throwster, the waste by the
silk spinner.
It is of the utmost importance in the succeeding manu¬
facture, that this reeling process should be well performed.
Sometimes from the temperature of the water used to
soften the gum being too high during the reeling, the parts
of the hank of silk that lie on the spokes of the reel be¬
come very hard, and occasion the breaking of the thread
in the after processes. Sometimes, too, when in the reel¬
ing process the threads happen to break, the ends are
again only laid upon one another, and not connected by
tying; the threads consequently come off the hanks in
short lengths, and much trouble and loss of time is ex¬
perienced in searching for the other end ; and sometimes the
reelers, either from inattention or design, reel off the whole
of the thread of the cocoons without a regular supply of
fresh ones, by which an exceedingly foul silk is produced.
Thus coarse and fine silks are reeled together in the same
hank ; and, what is of common occurrence, the hanks when
reeled are twisted up so tight, that the untwisting of them
greatly damages the silk. But the greatest injury to the
manufacturer arises from dishonesty on the part of those who
produce the reeled silk; and this remark applies especially
to the coarser descriptions. To get rid of their waste,
some producers of raw silk roll up the refuse of the co¬
coon into what are here technically called dollies, and
insert these into the hanks in such a manner that they
cannot be discerned by the purchaser; they also have a
method of mixing their waste with the good silk while it is
being reeled, and as it cannot again be separated from it
without great injury, this mode of vitiating the silk is more
SILK.
281
lilk Manu-objectionable than the other. But dishonest practices are
f'acture. unfortunately not confined to the description of silk above
mentioned; it is too common to find in hanks some
coarse inferior quality of silk artfully prepared with a cover¬
ing of a much finer kind, to enhance its value.
The loss of capital, which careless reeling, and the base
practices we have alluded to, entail on the manufacturer,
is immense ; for if an establishment be formed, with ma¬
chinery and workers sufficient to throw a given quantity of
good silk; take, for example, the Italian silk, called Fos-
sombrone, which, of all the raw silks, is the easiest manu¬
factured, and if, in place of some of the Fossombrone, the
machines and workers come to be employed on some silks
vitiated as we have described, or reeled in a careless man¬
ner, then, from the foulness and unevenness of the thread,
the number of workers will, in all probability, not be suf¬
ficient to attend to above one-third of the machines, one
winder being able in a given time to wind five times as
much of the Fossombrone as of some of the Bengalese silks.
From what we have said it may be inferred, that it is a
matter of great difficulty for the manufacturer to determine
the number of machines and workers in the various pro¬
cesses ; and that, from the ever varying nature of the silk,
he will seldom have the whole of his machinery employed.
IF the preparation of the raw silk, as reeled silk is termed,
were conducted by persons conversant with the processes
of the silk filature, who would adapt their mode of working
to suit the various purposes to which the article prepared
by them was to be applied ; or, if the whole of the opera¬
tions were under the conduct of an instructed agent of
the manufacturers, the evils on which we have animadvert¬
ed would be removed, and a better and a cheaper article
would be furnished to the consumer.
The operations which succeed the reeling are those of
silk throwing, and are as follows:
1st, Winding the silk from the hanks upon bobbins, to
fit it for the further processes.
2d, Cleaning, consisting in the silk being unwound from
the bobbins of the winding machine, and wound upon ano¬
ther set of bobbins; and, in its passage between, made to
pass through an opening between two metal plates, by
which any inequality, caused by knots or adhering substan¬
ces, is removed.
3d, Spinning, consisting in twisting the cleaned thread.
4th, Doubling, consisting in laying together on one bob¬
bin the threads of several bobbins, so that they may be
afterwards combined by being twisted together.
5th, Throwing, the name by which the operation of
twisting the doubled silk is known, and also the name by
which the whole class of operations is distinguished.
It has been conjectured, that the name throwing is de¬
rived from the swinging and tossing of the threads and co¬
coons while reeling, but we need not travel out of the way
for its derivation, as the operation of twisting is in many
other arts called throwing. The ropemaker throws twist
into his ropes ; and the little instrument used in the farm¬
yard for twisting straw ropes, is called a throw-crook.
6th, Reeling, consisting in forming into hanks suited for
undergoing the processes of scouring, dyeing, and bleach¬
ing the silk which has undergone some or all of the pre¬
vious operations.
7th, After the scouring, bleaching, or dyeing processes
have been performed on the hanks, these have again to be
wound on bobbins, for the use of the warper or weaver.
It is not to be understood, that silk in every case under¬
goes all the operations we have mentioned, but that, when it
does so, these succeed each other in the order described.
It is sometimes merely wound and cleaned, and is in
tins state under the name of dumb singles, used for Ban¬
dana handkerchiefs, and, when bleached, for gauze, and si¬
milar fabrics.
VOL. XX.
It may be wound, cleaned, and thrown, and is then silk Manu-
called thrown singles, and used for ribbons and common silks, facture.
If wound, cleaned, doubled, and thrown, which twists it
into one direction, it is called tram, and is used for the
woof or shute of Gros de Naples, velvets, and flowered silks.
If wound, cleaned, spun, doubled, and then thrown, so as
to be of the nature of twine, or the strand of a rope, it is call¬
ed organzine, which, from its strength, is used for warp.
Silk, in any of these states, before being subjected to
the operation of scouring, is termed hard, but after it is by
scouring deprived ot its stifiening-gum, it is called soft.
The operations of the throwster are generally carried on
in a building which admits of an apartment being allotted
to each description of machines, and these apartments are
generally in stories. All the machines used in the pro¬
cesses are each made up of a repetition of the same parts,
each part being a distinct and separate apparatus, capable
of performing its work independent of its fellows; and
these are arranged in juxtaposition in the machine, in
order that the moving power may be conveniently applied
to a long series of them. The length of the machines is
regulated by the extent of the building, and the manner of
their arrangement. A manner of arranging them is here
sketched (fig. 2.) The apartment is supposed to be about
thirty-eight feet wide, and
the machines are placed
athwart the room, so as to
afford a passage four feet
in width along the centre,
and at such a distance
lengthways, as to give
room for the workers to
attend to their charge. Two
shafts traverse each apart¬
ment in the direction of
the dotted lines, and carry
on them pullies, or toothed
wheels, opposite to each machine; a belt from each pulley
is carried over a corresponding pulley on the end of the
main shaft of each machine, or the toothed wheels are con¬
nected by proper gearing with the shafts of the machines,
and so motion is given to the whole.
The rooms are generally heated by steam, and the tem¬
perature of the apartments, when above the minimum of 50°,
is regulated more by a regard to the health of the workers,
than from any necessity for a particular temperature in the
operations; but these cannot be performed with advantage
when the temperature is allowed to fall below 50°.
The first machine or apparatus used is the winding-ma¬
chine, or that by which the reeled hanks are wound on
bobbins, to prepare them for the subsequent processes. A
perspective sketch of this machine is shewn in fig. 3. Along
Fig. 2.
282
SILK.
I
1 =3
"li
cr3'
Silk Manu-each side of the machine, at a a, directly under the line of
facture. bobbins b b, run two shafts, called frame shafts, or frame
friction-shafts ; on these shafts at each bobbin are fixed
two friction pullies, of about 4^ inches diameter; and on
the axis of each bobbin are fixed two corresponding pullies,
about 11 inch diameter. The friction-pullies of the bob¬
bins rest upon those of the shaft, and receive motion from
them. Opposite to each bobbin is a wire, with an eyelet at
its end, fixed to a bar of wood c c, called the traverse
bar. This bar, with the eyelets attached, has an alternat¬
ing motion, right and left, through a space equal to the
length of that part of a bobbin on which the silk is to be
wound. In front of these eyelets are fixed the guide-rods,
or friction rods, ddd d, over which the threads glide in
their passage from the reel to the bobbins, and which are
formed of polished iron, and in front of these the reels
e e e e, are placed on their bearers ff. At every se¬
venth bobbin or
Fig. 4. Fig. 5. so is placed a
—| d p g main frame, like
-jJlil 1 Ifllpi, 99> and between
M L J p these stretch bars
of wood, for the
support of the
bobbin and reel
bearers. Motion
is given to the
bobbins, we have
said, by the ly¬
ing shafts bearing
friction - pullies,
and the threads
beingpassedfrom
the reels, over the friction-bars d d, through the eyelets, and
attached to the bobbins, are, by the motion of the latter,
wound up, and drag round the reel on which the hank is
fixed. The bobbins are, with their friction-pullies, repre¬
sented in figs. 4, 5, and 6. Fig. 4, a section ; fig. 5, a
front view, and fig. 6, a plan: a is the lying-shaft, with
one of its friction-pullies b b, and on this rests the fric¬
tion-pulley c, of one of the bobbins d; the axis of the
bobbin is confined laterally by working in the groove e ot
the bearer, but has perfect freedom of motion up and
down, so that its friction-pulley may remain in contact with
that of the shaft. If, during the process, a thread happens
to break, the bobbin is lifted out of its working-groove and
placed in the higher groove f by which its friction-pulley
is kept from touching the friction-pulley of the shaft, and
it consequently remains at rest; but when, after the dam¬
age has been repaired, it is lifted into its former position,
its motion is immediately resumed. In front of the bob¬
bin is seen the traverse bar g, carrying the wire h, with its
eyelet for the thread; this traverse bar is moved by an ec¬
centric in such a manner, as not to spread the thread
equally over the bobbins, but to heap it up more in the
middle than at the ends.
The reels are called swifts, and are formed of twelve
light spokes, about 16^- inches long, inserted into a wood¬
en nave in pairs, so as to form a six-sided reel; the nave
has an iron axle, which turns freely on its bearings. The
hanks not being all of one size, makes it necessary to
have a reel, the diameter of which may be varied. Va¬
rious means of adapting the reel to the size of the hank
have been and still are used. Amongst others, one de¬
serves notice ; it is, where each spoke of the reel is made
in two parts, the one fixed to the nave, formed of tube
containing a spiral spring, the other formed of a light
rod, nicely fitting the tube, the opposite pairs of rods be¬
ing joined together by a cross bar, forming the periphery
of the reel. When it is wished to put a hank on a reel
of this kind, one of the pairs of spokes is pushed into the
tubes, and the hank slipped on; the spiral springs now Silk Maim,
exert their force, and throw out the pressed-in spokes with fact“re.
such a force, as to keep the reel in a proper state of ten-
sion. But the method generally adopted, if not so elegant,
is more simple. The spokes in this case are formed of
lance-wood, and the outer extremity of each pair are ra¬
ther farther asunder than the ends which are inserted into
the nave, and are connected together by a band of small
cord passed several times round them; on these bands the
hank or skein of silk rests, and, by slipping the bands along
the spokes nearer to or further from the centre, the diame¬
ter of the reel can be adapted to the size of the hank; and
when the hank is stretched the bands can be moved in any
way, so as to balance the hank, which, as will be afterwards
seen, is a matter of considerable importance. Each pair
of spokes, it has been mentioned, slightly diverge as they
proceed from the nave; and, as they are again slightly
drawn towards each other by the bands, the tendency to re¬
turn to their natural position effectually retains the band in
any place to which it may be slipped. It has been said, that
the reels turn freely on their supports, but it is necessary
to create such a friction as will prevent them giving off the
silk faster than it can be taken up by the bobbins; this is
sometimes done by a spring being made to press upon the
nave of the reel, but more commonly by hanging on its
centre a wooden ring, to which weights may be hung, so
as to create such a degree of friction on the reel, and, con¬
sequently, of tension upon the thread, between the reel and
the bobbin, as may be desired. The subjoined sketch
Fig. 7.
Fig. 8.
(figs. 7 and 8.) shews the
reel as it has been de¬
scribed: a is the nave,
b b the lance-wood
spokes, c c the bands
of cords forming the
periphery of the reel,
d the friction-ring,
with the weight hang¬
ing on it.
Referring again to
fig. 3, it will be seen,
that in front of the
swifts are bars of
wood, extending along both sides of the machine; their
use is to support the bars which carry the swifts, and to
prevent the persons of those who work the machines from
coming in contact with the reels; from this last use they
are termed knee-rails.
Previous to the hanks being put upon the swifts, they
are washed in a solution of soap and water, which cleans
the silk without depriving it of its gum. In putting the
hanks on the reel care is taken to balance them, as,were one
side heavier than another, it would be apt to fall suddenly,
after having passed the highest point, in turning, and
thereby injure the thread.
The winding-machines, under the general superintend¬
ence of a man called a steward, are tended by girls, who are
termed denters and winders; the denters put the hanks on
the reel, and the winders, or piecers as they are also call¬
ed, tie the ends of the threads and exchange the bobbins.
When the bobbins are filled with thread they are con¬
veyed from the winding-machine room to the warehouse,
to be assorted or separated into finer or coarser quali¬
ties, which are kept apart throughout the remaining pro¬
cesses. To carry the bobbins, a board, called a doffing-
board, is made use of; this consists of a piece of deal,
about a foot wide, and rather more than two feet long,
having a number of wires corresponding to the number of
bobbins in one side of a frame, and about four inches long,
inserted into its surface; on these wires the bobbins are
put. When the separation of the qualities has been made,
SILK.
Cleaning.
Silk Manu-the bobbins are carried to another machine-room, where
facture. the thread undergoes the operation of cleaning.1
~ y The cleaning, drawing, or picking-machine, as it is vari¬
ously called, is represented in fig. 9- In this, as in the last
machine, motion is communicated to the bobbins by a fric¬
tion shaft. The bobbins, a a, from the winding-frame are
fixed on plain spindles, and placed in a horizontal position be¬
tween their supports. The threads are carried from the bob¬
bins over the iron or glass rod, h b, and each thread is passed
through an adjustable opening, between the two iron blades
of an instrument called the cleaner, c c, which is fixed to a
bar of wood running along the machine, immediately behind
the friction-rods. The cleaner is here represented on a
Fig. 9.
283
lifted from the lower to the higher groove, its toothed Silk Manu-
Spinmng.
Fig. 12.
larger scale, (figs. 10,11); a is the bar of wood to which the
instrument is fastened; b, b, are the blades, which are held
together at the bottom by the screw c;
d is the opening through which the thread Fig. 10.
is made to pass, the width of this opening
being adjusted by means of a screw e. the
key of which is kept by the steward of
the room. The tops of the blades are
curved outwards, so as readily to guide
the thread into the slit. The threads,
after having been passed through the
opening of the cleaner, are put through
the eyelet d, of the traverse bar, which is,
in every respect, like that of the former machine, and then
attached to the bobbins e e. When the machine is put in
motion, the bobbins e e drag the thread from the bobbins
through the cleaner; and, as the cleaner is adjusted to a cer¬
tain size, all impurities and irregularities are removed, and
the thread thus rendered equal.
The process which succeeds thatof cleaning is called spin¬
ning, although, as we have already observed, it is only twist¬
ing. The spinning-machine is represented in fig. 12. This,
like the two former machines, consists of a series of frames
placed at wide intervals, and connected by bars of wood,
which serve as supports for the different parts of the machin-
ery. The spinning machine contains sometimes two but
generally three tiers of working apparatus in height. The
bobbins on which the twisted silk is to be wound, are seen
in the figure at a a a, placed horizontally along the ma¬
chine ; in this case they are not driven by friction-rollers,
but by toothed wheels, fixed on the extremity of the axis
of each bobbin, and corresponding ones on the shafts b, b, b.
The bobbins are, as before, suspended by their axis in lit¬
tle grooves; each bobbin-bearer contains two such grooves,
one higher than the other, so that, on the bobbin being
wheel is thrown
out of gear with the
wheel of the shaft
b, b, and it remains
at rest. Under each
bobbin is seen the
twisting - apparatus.
This consists of a
bobbin c, fixed on
an upright spindle
d, to which motion
is communicated by
a belt from the drum
f, fixed on a hori¬
zontal shaft g, pass¬
ing over a pulley on
the bobbin spindle.
The silk threads
from these vertical
bobbins are wound
three or four times
round a bent wire h,
fixed to a bar, ex¬
tending along the
machine, passed
through an eye in
the end of each of
these wires, carried
through the eyes of
the traverse-guides,
and attached to the
horizontal bobbins.
On motion being
given to the machi¬
nery, the vertical (h
bobbins are made
to revolve with a
greater or less velocity, and the horizontal ones with a ve¬
locity so proportioned to the others, that they may only
draw away the thread as it is twisted in the due degree.
In figs. 13 and 14, we have represented, on a larger scale,
a section and front view of
these working parts : a, a is
the bobbin from the cleaning-
machine, b the fixed wire-
guide round which the thread
is carried, c the traverse-guide
for spreading the thread over
the bobbin, d the bobbin for
receiving the twisted thread.
Motion is communicated to
the different parts thus: On
one end of the drum-shaft g,
(fig. 12,) is fixed a fast and loose
pulley, notseen in the drawing,
driven by a belt from the main
shaft which traverses the
apartment; belts from the
drum on the drum-shaft pass
over the pullies of the vertical
spindles d, and so give mo¬
tion to the bobbins c ; on the hither end of the drum-shaft
is fixed the pinion g, which, through the intermediate
wheel e, drives the spur-wheel k; on the axis of this last
wheel is fixed the bevel-wheel m, giving motion to the
facture.
Its dan adoPtlon from tbe co«on manufacture, and its use, as described above, is, we believe, peculiar to Scotland-
pmnt,, k v v,' Ukr j ls’ 1,e check u affords against pilfering. When carried to the machine-room, the wires of the empty board are filled with
nrrX/ ar'd’ as t^6 bobbms of the machine become charged with silk, they are exchanged for the empty ones of the board which is
empty b°ibbinS T37 te a!SOrted aCCOrding t0 the fiuality of the silk- The filled bobbins are exchanged for
operation ’ ° ^ Camed on tke J0ard t0 tbe winding machine room, and the same system is followed out in all the different stages of the
284
SILK.
Silk Manu-bevel-wheel n, and thereby to the shaft o, which crosses
facture. t]ie entj 0f ^be machine; each end ot this shaft carries a
’bevel-wheel p, which drives a bevel-wheel h, fixed on the
end of the shaft, on which the little spur-wheels that drive
the spur-wheels of the bobbins are fixed. On this last
shaft is also fixed a pinion, to work the traverse guide-
bar; this it effects by giving motion to a small wheel,
round which another pinion revolves, in the manner of the
sun and planet-wheels, and, being connected by a short
rod with the traverse-bar, the latter is consequently moved
thromgh a space equal to the added diameters of the wheels.
In the usual mode of constructing this machine, there is a
want of a mean of lessening the velocity of the drawing-
bobbin, as its diameter increases by the accumulation of
silk. In consequence of this want, the thread is very un¬
equally twisted ; for although at the commencement of the
process the drawing or upper bobbin may, by appropriate
toothed-wheels, be made to turn with the velocity requisite
to allow of the thread receiving, say twelve twists in the
inch, yet, after a very short time, the silk will have accu¬
mulated on it, and increased its diameter so much, that
for every revolution which it now makes, it will take up
and draw away a much greater length of thread from the
revolving bobbin, whose speed remains constant, so that
the number of twists are constantly on the decrease, and,
at the end of the operation, may be no more than eight in
the inch. A very ingenious mode of equalizing the draw
of the bobbin has been put in practice In place of driving the
drawing-bobbins by toothed-wheels, they are here driven
by friction-rollers; the part of the bobbin on which the
silk is wound rests on the roller, and receives motion from
it; and, as the diameter of this part increases by the accu¬
mulation of silk, its velocity, of course, diminishes in pre¬
cisely the same ratio; thus, the surface on which the silk
is wound has a uniform rate of motion from the beginning
to the end of the process, insuring, what has ever been a
desideratum, perfect equality in the twist of the thread.
Doubling. The next operation is doubling. Fig. 15 is an end view
of the doubling-machine. In this machine the bobbins
a a a, containing the spun silk, are arranged along the
lower platform b, in little brackets capable of each con¬
taining three bobbins; from these the threads are car¬
ried over the guide- rods d, of which there are two on each
side of the machine, and, after being passed through the
eyes of an apparatus called the falling-wires, and the tra¬
verse-guides e e, are then attached to the bobbins f f, to
which motion is given by friction-pullies, as in the first
machines, and on them the threads are thus wound up in
combination.
In all former- Fig. 15.
ly described ma¬
chines the break¬
ing of the thread
causes no in¬
jury, but, in the
doublingprocess,
were one of the
three threads to
break, and the
upper bobbin to
continue to re¬
volve, the other
two threads
would be wound
up separately,
and so spoil the
work ; to pre¬
vent this is the use of the falling-wires described above,
which, on the breaking of the thread, stop the bobbin
until the damage is repaired. The subjoined sketch (figs.
16, 17), shews a side view and plan of this apparatus: a a
are the two guide-rods, with the threads passing over them;
between the rods are seen the eyelets of three bent wires, Silk Manu.
Figs. 16, 17.
whose other extremi¬
ties are hinged to a
piece of brass at c.
The threads are pass-
ed through these eye- V
lets, and support the
wires in the horizontal
position shewn in the
sketch. Hinged to the
same supports as the
wires is a brass lever,
hb, ben tat right angles
horizontally under the
wires; the straight end or tail of the lever is a little hea¬
vier than the bent end, and it consequently lies in the
oblique position of our drawing. On the end of the bob¬
bin is fixed a little ratchet-wheel, moving as indicated
by the arrow. Now, when one of the threads sustaining
the bent wires happens to break, the wire falls down on
the bent part of the lever, which, by this additional weight,
is depressed, and its opposite end consequently rises into
the position shewn by the dotted line, and acts as a paid
to the ratchet-wheel, effectually stopping the bobbin until
the attendant has leisure to lift it out of its working-groove,
repair the damaged thread, and again set it in motion.
When the lighter kinds of silk have to be doubled, they
would be injured by being made to drag round the heavy
bobbins; therefore, for such kinds a modification of the
apparatus is required. In place of the bobbins being
placed horizontally in bearers, they are placed vertically on
spindles, as shewn in figs. 12,13,14 ; the spindles project be¬
yond the upper end of the bobbins, and carry a little wheel
of hard wood, which is made to turn freely; this wheel has
two flyers with eyelets at their extremities; the thread
being put through these, and drawn by the upper bobbins,
causes the light flyers to revolve round the vertical bobbin,
and unwind the thread without straining it.
The next is the throwing machine. As this machine
closely resembles the spinning-machine shewn in fig. 12, we
here only sketch such a portion of it as will shew wherein
they do not agree. Fig. 18 is an end view, and fig. 19 is
a side view of one
of the working parts:
is a vertical bob¬
bin with its loose
flyer bb; the bobbin
being driven by a
band acting on the
spindle pulley as
in the spinning-ma¬
chine ; cis a traverse
guide wire, through
the eye of which the
thread is passed ; d
a reel on which, in
this case, the thread
is wound into hanks
as it is twisted by
factur?.
Fig. 18.
Fig. 19.
the revolution of
the vertical bobbins.
The traverse guide bars have, in this machine, a very short
range of lateral motion, so as to confine each hank within
a very narrow limit on the reel’s surface. The motion of
the reel can be so regulated in relation to that of the twist¬
ing bobbin, as in any way to modify the amount of twisting
received by the thread.
In the case of the heavier silk threads used for sewing,
fringing, and the like, the doubling and throwing pro¬
cesses are both performed by one machine, called a throstle
frame, which is similar to the machine of the same name
used in the cotton and linen thread manufacture. The
S I L
gilk Manu-throstle, however, does not contain apparatus for reeling
facture. the silk, so, for this purpose, a subsidiary reel has to be
used. This machine is automatic, in respect of stopping
when a predetermined quantity of silk has been wound.
One end of the axis of the reel is supported by a lever,
whose fulcrum is at the centre of the machine; the other
end of the axis has a fixed bearing. Motion is given to
the reels by a pinion fixed on the end of its axis, being
driven by a spur wheel on the main shaft; by raising the
lever, which carries one end of the axis, the pinion would
be withdrawn from the spur wheel, and the reel would ne¬
cessarily cease to revolve. The machine is rendered auto¬
matic from the raising of the lever being effected by pro¬
per machinery at the very instant that the reel shall have
wound up the length of silk predetermined, and by a de
tent locking it out of gear until the attendant shall have
time to shift the apparatus which guides the silk to a new
space on the reel.
We are sorry that we cannot present our readers with a
more minute description of this machine, from the number
of drawings which would be required to illustrate it.
Whether the hanks of silk have been reeled in the throw¬
ing-machine or on the automatic reel, they are afterwards
treated in precisely the same manner. When the reels are
filled with hanks, they are placed in a steam box, and sub¬
jected for a time to the action of the steam, to give the
twisting of the thread a set, as it is termed; each skein or
hank is then tied up separately in two places while yet on
the reel, which is then carried to the proper apartment, and
the hanks removed from it and bundled up.
The silk may be used without being deprived of its gum,
and is termed hard, or it may be acted on by soap and
water to deprive it of its gum, and reduce it to the soft state.
In either of these states it may be put into the hands of the
dyer, whose operations succeed those we have described.
When the hanks come from the dyer they are again trans¬
ferred to bobbins; the hard silk by a winding machine,
similar to the one already described, the soft silk by the
machine represented in fig. 20.' In this machine, in place
of the swifts are sub¬
stituted the small
reels A A, the upper
one fixed in position
but turningfreely on
its axis, the lower
one also turning free¬
ly on its axis, which
is attached to a le¬
ver b, whose short
end carries an ad¬
justable weight, by
means of which the
hank of silk can be
kept between the
reels with the de¬
gree of tension suit¬
ed to the strength of the thread. The operation of this
machine will be understood from the winding machine al¬
ready described, the only difference being, that the traverse
guide has an equal and not an eccentric motion, so as to lay
the silk regularly from end to end of the bobbin, and not
heaped up in the centre as before. The transferring the
silk to the bobbins finishes the operation of the silk throw¬
ster, from whose hands the silk passes into those of the
warper, to prepare it for weaving.
The drawings of the machinery, by which we have illus¬
trated our description of the throwing process, were, for the
most part, made from machines constructed by Mr. Joseph
Lomas of Glasgow, an engineer who has devoted much of
^ 285
bis attention to the machinery used in this particular branch Silk Manu-
of manufacture. facture.
Having thus traced the silk of the cocoons from its de-
velopement to the perfection of the filature, and its adapta¬
tion for the loom, we will briefly describe the means used
for preparing the waste silk for the weaver, in so far as they
are peculiar to the silk manufacture.
Silk Spinning.
Under this term are included those operations by which
floss silk, and the refuse of the throwing process, are, under
the name of waste, worked into yarns for coarser uses, such
as the manufacture of shawls, Bandana handkerchiefs, and
similar textures.
When received by the silk spinner, the waste is in the
form of small balls of entangled filaments. These, as a pre¬
paratory step, he assorts in parcels according to their qua¬
lity, and these different qualities are of course kept separate
throughout the processes ; after being assorted, the w aste is
hackled on a hand hackle, to disentangle the filaments, the
instrument and manner of operating being the same as in
flax-dressing. When, by the hackling process, the fila¬
ments of a quantity of the waste have, to a certain extent,
been disentangled, they are ready for the filling engine,
which is a kind of hackling machine, whose effect is, in a
greater degree, to disentangle the filaments, and in some
measure to lay them parallel.
The essential parts of this machine are sketched in fig.,
21 : a a is a feeding board, over the surface of which a tra-
Fig. 21.
veiling belt moves in the direction of the arrows, and carries
forward to the feeding rollers b b, the hackled waste, which
is laid on it. These rollers are fluted and move very slowly ;
between them the filaments from the feeding board enter,
and are held fast, and at the same time drawn forward into
the machine As the ends of the filaments come to the
other side of the rollers, they are acted upon by a series of
iron teeth c c, fixed to an endless belt which revolves with
a very quick motion in the direction of the arrows, and the
teeth are consequently made to pass many times through
the same portion of the filaments, clearing and disentang¬
ling them as they are slowly yielded by the feeding rollers ;
and as the ends of the successive portions of filaments cease
to be held by the rollers, they are caught up by the teeth
and carried round with them. Beneath the combs, as the
travelling teeth are termed, a board d is fixed, having at in¬
tervals, along its surface, sets of teeth similar to the combs.
When the filaments carried round by the travelling combs
happen to fall off, they are caught on the fixed combs of the
boards, and the regularity of their arrangement is not disturb¬
ed. When the combs, by repeated gleanings from the rollers,
have become filled, the workman, with a pair of boards called
clutches, removes from them, and from the teeth of the hori¬
zontal boards, their accumulation of filaments; these he car¬
ries to the next machine, called the dressing frame, which, like
the filling engine, operates on the principle of combing. In
this, however, the filaments are not gradually brought for-
Fig. 20.
1 In England, throwsters rarely if ever wind the soft silk, this duty devolving upon the manufacturer; but in Scotland, manufacturers
being seldom provided with the requisite machinery, soft-silk winding is usually a part of the business of the throwster.
Silk Manu- ward by rollers and yielded to the comb, but they are held
facture. firmly jn their place by one end, while the combs travel
^ v ^ 1 over their surface, dragging away ail impurities and all fibres
which are shorter than the average length of the mass. Fig.
22 is a side view of the machine : a a is a fixed framing, at
each end of the frame is a roller b b'\ over these rollers the
endless web cc moves. Motion is communicated to the
roller b' by the spur wheel d, on its axle being driven by a
pinion on the axle of the pulley e, to which motion is given
by a belt from a pulley of the main power shaft. The distance
between the rollers b b' can be increased or diminished by a
screw connected with b, so as to tighten or relax the end¬
less web which travels round them. The endless web car¬
ries the combs/f, which, in this machine, are composed of
a great number of short inclined teeth. Immediately be¬
low the top bar of the machine is seen the side of an iron
frame g g, in which the silk to be operated on is fastened.
f Along the frame is seen the ends of a series of boards, whose
lower edges are hinged together; between these boards,
when opened like a book, the ends of the silk filaments from
the filling engine are inserted, and the boards closed and put
into their place in the iron frame, and between every pair
of these boards is put a piece of solid wood. The pinch¬
ing screws h h, at the ends of the iron frames, are now turn¬
ed, and the silk is thus held tightly between the boards.
The iron frame, it will be seen, rests upon two supports,;/,
which, by means of a rack and pinion worked by the wheel
k, can be moved up or down, and thus the frame can be
raised or lowered; when lowered to its utmost extent it
rests on the wheeled carriage l, which runs on the floor on
a railroad placed at right angles to the machine. The
operation of the machine is as follows : The frame which
contains the silk is lowered until it rests on the carriage,
which is then drawn out at the side of the machine. The
boards containing the silk are then put into their places
and firmly compressed by the pinching screws; the car¬
riage is now returned to its place under the combs, and
by means of the wheel, the frame is adjusted so that the
combs may act on the silk. The machine is then put in
motion, and the combs, by repeatedly passing over the
silk, disentangle and lay parallel the filaments and re¬
move impurities. When the combing of one side of the
filaments has been effected, the frame is again lowered, and
the carriage withdrawn. The workman with a skewer turns
over the silk so as to expose the uncombed side, wheels
round the frame on its centre pivot m, and again runs the
carriage into its place; again he raises the frame until within
the scope of the combs, which constantly move in the same
direction ; and thus both sides of the material come to be
thoroughly operated upon. The gleanings of the silk ga¬
thered by the combs, when accumulated, are screwed be¬
tween the boards, and again subjected to the action of the
machine; what is carried away by the combs in this opera¬
tion is unfit for spinning, and is used, like the refuse of flax,
for stuffing cushions and similar purposes.
When the filaments are by the dressing machine cleaned
and laid parallel to each other, they are cut into lengths of
about an inch and a quarter by the cutting engine, which
operates upon the principle of chopping, and resembles the
agricultural chaff machine. It is then operated upon by
the scutcher, which is a modification of a similar machine Silk,
used in the cotton manufacture. When it leaves the scut-
cher it resembles fine down, and is put into bags of a con¬
venient size, and boiled for an hour and a half or so in soap
and water, to deprive it of its gum ; it is afterwards washed
in pure soft water and again boiled, but not now for so long
a period, this boiling being merely for the purpose of get¬
ting rid of impurities. It is then subjected to the action of
a Bramah press, and when taken from the press, dried by
means of a stove, after which it is cooled, and a second
time passed through the scutching machine to fit it for card¬
ing. The carding is followed, as in the cotton manufacture,
by the drawing and fly frames, to produce a rove, and these,
by the spinning mill and the throstle, after which reeling
and bundling complete the operations and fit the thread for
the market.
The art of silk-waste-spinning, we may observe, is still
in its infancy, but is advancing rapidly to greater maturity.
In 1814, the quantity of waste imported by Great Britain
amounted to 28,996 lb., and in 1836 it had reached to the
amount of 1,509,334 lb. In the years 1856, 1857, 1858,
it averaged 2,069,684 lb.
Silk-Worm. Although the article now known to our¬
selves under the name of silk is “familiar as household
words,” yet its nature and origin were but obscurely, if at
all ascertained in ancient times. Pliny, whose judgment
and discrimination as a compiler are not greatly to be re¬
lied upon, reports that the bombyx (or silk-worm) is a na¬
tive of Kos, an island of the Mediterranean archipelago.
It is known that silk was manufactured there at a very
eary period, but Aristotle had previously explained that
bombykia, or the stuff produced from from the bombyx,
was respun and rewoven by the women of that island. The
inventress of this process was Pamphilia. “ She unwove
the precious material to recompose it in her loom into
fabrics of a more extended texture; thus converting the
substantial silks of the Seres into thin transparent gauze,
obtaining in measure what was lost in substance. Attempts
have been made to rob the inventress of all the merit be¬
longing to this process, by identifying the bombykia with
the raw material, which it is said Pamphilia and her nymphs
procured from Seres, and spun or wove into sericum or
silk. But the fact of the re-weaving rests upon too good
authority to be doubted.”1
Had Pliny been right in supposing that silk was a na¬
tural product of the island in question, it is by no means
probable that so laborious a process as that of converting
foreign wrought articles into threads for reweaving, would
have been resorted to. Indeed, the Byzantine historians
inform us, that prior to silk-worms being imported into
Constantinople in the sixth century, no one in that capital
knew that silk was the produce of a caterpillar. Although
Aristotle gives an account of the silk-woimn, which he de¬
scribes as a horned caterpillar, he does not indicate its na¬
tive country. Assyria is named by Pliny as the original
region of the bombyx, and he adds the extraordinary state¬
ment, that the stuff which the women of Rome unraveled
and wove anew, was made from a woollen substance combed
by the Seres from the leaves of trees, and that draperies
formed from it were imported from the country of the
Seres. These ancient people, we need scarcely remark,
are generally believed to be the same with those we now
name Chinese. Silk, in their language, is called se or sery
the latter term corresponding with that used by the Greeks,
who, we cannot doubt, derived both the material itself, and
the name by which it was designated, from the Chinese
nation. According to Latreille, the city of Turfan, in
Little Bucharia, was for a long time the rendezvous of the
western caravans, and the chief entrepot of the Chinese
silks. It was the metropolis of the Seres of Upper Asia,
or of the Serica of Ptolemy, situate, according to that au-
1 Cabinet Cyclopedia, xxii. 5.
Ilk-worm
SILK.
287
tbor, between the Ganges and the Eastern Ocean. Hence
the Serica vestis of the Romans, and the word Sericum,
their name for silk. The most ancient languages in India
have names for “ silk-worms,” and for “ wrought-silk.’
Ancient Hindu books mention, as separate classes, ‘‘ silk¬
worm-feeders,” and “ reelers of silk.” Heavy silks from
China, India, and Persia, were unraveled and rewoven, of
slighter texture, at Gaza : thence called “ La Gaze ”—
gauze. Fig. 23 represents an
ancient Indian reel.
The growth of silk has
been considered by the Chi¬
nese for 4000 years next in
extent and importance to that
of rice; and the annual ini¬
tiatory processes of the hatch¬
ing eggs of silk-worms, and
gathering mulberry-leaves, by
the empress, as of the empe¬
ror’s holding the plough for
preparation of the ground in
the cultivation of rice, are or¬
dered in the book of rites, printed by Chinese authority, and
composed by Confucius 2300 years ago, giving religious
ceremonial authority to them. One of their kings was dei¬
fied because he encouraged the cultivation of the mulberry,
and one of their queens on account of her improvements
in the art of weaving silks. It is not generally known to
European silk-growers, that works have been composed,
many ages ago, by the Chinese, describing minutely (and
with many particulars not noticed by any one of the nearly
fifty French and Italian writers on the subject usually con¬
sulted) each process, from sowing the mulberry-seed and
hatching the silk-worm’s eggs, to the winding of the silk
from the cocoon, the doubling and dyeing the filaments,
weaving these materials into their truly gorgeous stuffs, and
fashioning the latter into garments. Such a volume is now
lying before us, published at an astonishingly low price,
and illustrated by wood-cuts facing every page. Fig. 24
Fig. 24.
is an ancient Chinese reel. M. Julien published, about
twenty-five years ago, a translation, made by himself, of
a valuable work found by him in the Imperial Library at
Paris, accurately describing the Chinese method of manag¬
ing their annual silk-worms, and in producing their best
raw silk. This treatise insists much upon the necessity
of pure air and wholesome food for the worm, and sug-
Fig. 23.
gests many important points for improvement on the part Silk-worm,
of European unprejudiced silk-growers.1 Nevertheless,
while the strength and colour of China silks are in the main
still unrivalled, the unevenness arising from the defects in
their reeling is no small deterioration of their value, in com¬
parison with the best silks of France and Italy. It is probable
that, for a long time to come, we shall have to resort to
China for fresh supplies of silk-worms’ eggs, when, from
epidemic disease, those hatched from acclimated worms
cannot be depended upon. About fifty years ago, the eggs
of the Chinese white species were successfully introduced into
the department du Gard, France, and from them silk of
double value in the market has been ever since obtained.
This substance was but slightly known in Europe before
the time of Augustus, and in the days of Aurelian was
valued at its weight in gold. This was probably owing to
the mode in which it was procured by the merchants of
Alexandria, who had no direct intercourse with China,
the chief country in which the silk-worm was then reared.
Though so highly lauded both by Greek and Roman
writers, it was in frequent use for many centuries be¬
fore any certain knowledge was obtained either of the
country from which the material was derived, or of the
means by which it was produced. By some it was sup¬
posed to be a fine down adhering to the leaves of trees and
flowers; by others it was regarded as a delicate kind of
wool or cotton,2 and even those who had some idea of its
insect origin, were incorrectly informed of the mode of its
formation.3 The court of the Greek emperors, which sur¬
passed even that of the Asiatic sovereigns in splendour and
magnificence, became profuse in its display of this lustrous
ornament; but as the Persians, from the advantages which
their local situation gave them over the merchants from the
Arabian Gulf, were enabled to supplant them in all those
marts of India to which silk was brought by sea from the
East, and had it in their power to cut off the caravans which
travelled over land to China through their northern pro¬
vinces, Constantinople thus became dependent on a rival
power for an article now deemed essential to the enjoy¬
ment of civilized life. The Persians, with the rapacity in¬
separable from the power of monopolists, exorbitantly raised
its price. Procopius says the price per ounce for silk of
common colours was equal to L.2, 12s., and of royal purple,
L.9, 8s. English money; and many attempts were made by
Justinian to free his subjects from their exactions. An
accidental circumstance is said to have accomplished what
the wisdom of the great legislator was unable to achieve.
Two Persian monks, who had been employed as mission¬
aries in one of the Christian churches established in India,
had penetrated to the country of the Seres, that is, to
China, where they observed the operations of the silk¬
worm, and acquired a knowledge of the art of working up
its produce into so many rich and costly fabrics. The
love of lucre, mingled, it is said, with a feeling of indignation
that so valuable a branch of commerce should be enjoyed
by unbelieving nations, induced them to repair to Constan¬
tinople, where they explained to the emperor the true
origin of silk, and the various modes by which it was pre¬
pared and manufactured. Encouraged by the most liberal
promises, they undertook to transport a sufficient supply of
these extraordinary worms to Constantinople, which they
effected by conveying the eggs of the parent moth in the
interior of a hollow cane. They were hatched, it is
alleged, by the heat of a dunghill, and the larvae were fed
with the leaves of wild mulberry. They worked, under¬
went their accustomed metamorphoses, multiplied their kind,
1 See also translation, recently published at Shanghae, and reprinted at Madras in 1858, of a Dissertation on the Silk Manufacture, and
Cultivation of the Mulberry, by Tseu-kwang-K/he, a Chinese minister of state, in which are historical references to silk-growing ranging
in Chinese annals from B.c. 2356 to a.d. 960, with many interesting details of the cultivation of the trees, care of worms, and manufac-
tut-e of silks generally.
See Robertson’s Historical Description concerning Ancient India. 3 Edin. Cabinet Library, viii. 152.
288
SILK.
Silk-worm, and in the course of time have become almost universally
cultivated throughout the southern countries of Europe,
thus effecting an important change in the commercial rela¬
tions which had so long existed between our continent
and the east.1 ,
The cultivation of the silk-worm spread, at the period of
the first crusades, from the Morea into Sicily, the kingdom
of Naples, and several centuries afterwards, more espe¬
cially under the administration of Sully, into France, to
which kingdom it is now a source of great wealth. It
is indeed curious to consider how the breeding of a few
millions of small caterpillars should occasion such a dis¬
parity in the circumstances, or at least in the outward
show, of different tribes of the human race. When the
wife and empress of Aurelian was refused a garment of
silk on account of its extreme costliness, the most ordi¬
nary classes of the Chinese were, we doubt not, clad in
that material from top to toe; and although, among our¬
selves, weekday and holiday, we see the great mass of
our female population clothed externally in silk attire,
yet our James the Sixth was forced to borrow a pair of
silken hose from the Earl of Mar, that his state and bear¬
ing might be more effective in the presence of the ambas¬
sador of England, “ for ye would not,” said the uncouth
pedant, “ that your king should appear as a scrub before
strangers.” Queen Elizabeth, in the third year of her
reign (1560), was highly gratified by receiving from her
silk-woman, Mrs Montague, a pair of knit black-silk stock¬
ings, with which she is said to have been so delighted as
never afterwards to have worn those of cloth. Even Henry
the Eighth, notwithstanding his expensive magnificence,
could not indulge himself as did his daughter, but wore
cloth hose, except on gala days, for which he sometimes
contrived to obtain a pair or two of silken ones from Spain.
It was long supposed that the cultivation of the white
mulberry required a high temperature, but the contrary is
proved by the fact of its thriving well in so many northern
provinces of Germany. Even in Russia it is reared with
considerable success. In France, however, it is not raised
in large quantities with a view to the feeding of silk-worms,
except in the central and southern provinces, as far north
as the environs of Lyons. It might be easily grown
throughout France, as also silk produced. A double crop
might be obtained in the south, as in Naples. The white
mulberry is by no means nice in regard to the constituent
character of its soil, and it is known to flourish in a great
variety of situations. At the same time, the nature both
of soil and situation seems to exercise considerable influence
over the produce of the caterpillars which feed upon its
leaves ; the silk being cleaner, ampler, and more resistant, in
proportion as the plant is successfully cultivated in a dry
and rather elevated position. In the south of France it is
customary to cut off all the medium-sized branches every
year, with a view to facilitate the production of a greater
number of young shoots, these bearing the largest and
most numerous leaves. The leaves of the black mulberry
(Morus nigra), and in general those of all the other species
of the genus, are adapted to the nourishment of the silk¬
worm cultivated in Europe, which is the same as that which
produces the greater proportion of the Chinese manufac¬
ture. But in Bengal and other parts of India, and to a
very large amount in China, valuable silk is procured from
the cocoons of other species of moth. The first of these
is described by Dr Roxburgh under the title of Phalcena
paphia, and occurs in such abundance over many parts
of Bengal, and the adjoining provinces, as to have afforded
to the natives, from time immemorial, an abundant supply
of a very durable and dark-coloured silk, called Tusseh, much Silk-worm
used by the Brahmins and other sects of Hindoos. The v
thread is too fine to be reeled off; the cocoon is softened,
carded, and spun. Fig. 25 represents Tussah worms and
Fitr. 25.
cocoons. This species, however, cannot be domesticated ;
so the hill people go into the jungles, and when they
perceive the dung of the caterpillars under a tree, they
immediately search for them among the branches, and
carry off what they require. These they distribute on the
Asseen trees (Terminalia alata glabra of Roxb.), and
as long as they continue in the caterpillar state, the Pariahs
guard them from birds by day and from bats by night.
The natural food of this species is the TByer tree of the
Hindoos, called Rhamnus jujuba by botanists. The Jaroo
cocoons are produced from a rare variety of the kind just
mentioned. The tussah silk-worm moth appears to be
synonymous with Bombyx mylitta of Fabricius, and is
figured by Drury.2 The curious silk band, hard as leather,
by which this worm secures its cocoon on the tree, is seen
in fig. 26. Fig. 25, 2, is the Arrindy worm and cocoon. The
Fig. 26.
Arrindy silk - worms,
however, belong to an
entirely different spe¬
cies, Phalcena cynthia
of the last named au¬
thor.3 It seems to be
peculiar to two districts
in the interior of Bengal,
viz., Runpore and Dinagepore, where it is reared in a do¬
mestic state. The food of this kind of silk-worm consists en¬
tirely of the leaves of the common Ricinus, or Palma Christi,
which the natives call Arrindy, and hence the name by
which the insect is itself distinguished. The cocoons in
general are about a couple of inches in length, three inches
in circumference, and pointed at both ends. They are of
a white or yellowish colour, and their texture is extremely
soft and delicate. The filament, indeed, is so extremely
1 See Procopius, 7)e Bdlo Gothico ; Gibbon’s Decline and Fall (Reign of Justinian); Edin. Cabinet Library, already cited; and this
Encyclopaedia, art. Entomology, ix.
2 Illustrations of Natural History, ii., tab. 5.
3 Ibid., tab. 6.
SILK.
289
Silk-worm, fine, that the silk cannot be wound off, but must be spun
like cotton. The yarn is wove into a kind of coarse white
cloth, of a seemingly loose texture, but of such extreme
durability, that the life of one person seldom suffices to
wear out a garment of it, so that the same piece frequently
descends from parent to child. It must always be washed
in cold water.1 Fig. 27 shows the four principal wild silk
Fig. 27.
moths of India: 1. Tusseh; 2. Arrindy male; 3. Female;
4. Religiosa ; 5. Moogha. All these are so easily reared in
India, and at so low a cost, as to be used there in immense
quantities, and might be imported into Europe with great
advantage. The Chinese have wild worms, feeding on the
oak, the ash, the pepper tree, and probably other kinds;
one produces cocoons monthly, others three-monthly, others
one crop a-year.
The silk-w’orm represented in fig. 28 is found at the roots
by a natural viscosity. The period of hatching may be Silk-worm
hastened or retarded by a higher or lower temperature,
and the chief point for the breeder to bear in mind is,
that the worms should not make their appearance till an
abundance of natural food is near at hand. The eggs
are at first of a very pale hue, but such as are to
produce worms speedily become of a bluish grey colour;
the unproductive ones continuing of a pale yellow. As
there are tricks in all trades, the foreign dealers often
favour their old useless eggs with a wash in dark-coloured
muddy wine, which gives them for a time a deceptive
healthy aspect. A stove-room, or other apartment, with
a temperature of 64° will suffice for the hatching of eggs,
and the heat may afterwards be raised with advantage a
few degrees every other day, for about ten days, but not
so as to exceed about 80°. They will, however, thrive
well enough in summer in any comfortably kept apartment,
though a continuous warmth by night as well as by day is
of great advantage. Whatever parts of a brood are hatched
at the same period should be kept together; and those of
Fig. 29.
Fig. 28.
of tiees in Australia. Ihese caterpillars often become (as
those received are) entirely lignified, and from the mouth
o each proceeds a root (apparently) of 6 or 8 inches in
length.
The practice of rearing silk-worms in this country is
usually followed rather as an amusing occupation than for
purposes of gain. Abroad, it is pursued with skill and
energy as one of the most profitable businesses of life.
1 he female moth is induced to lay her eggs, about 300
in number, upon sheets of paper, to which they adhere
same age, or which shed their skins at sametime, ought
to be kept and fed together, so that they may pass
through the changes of their course with proper
care and safety.
The best and simplest apparatus for keeping
silk-worms is that used in France and Italy. It
consists of small tables to be used from hatching
to the time when, by reason of increasing size of
the worm, more extensive accommodation is ne¬
cessary. To meet this, wooden stages about 6 feet
wide, and the length which will allow of passing
round them, are placed, the lowest one, 3 feet from
the ground, then another and another, &c., above it at in¬
tervals of 12 or 15 inches. The insects are gradually spread
over these till their full size is attained, when, for each
ounce of eggs hatched, 300 square feet of boarding super¬
ficies must be allowed. When cleansed, it is by turning up
the leaves and sweeping off the offal. The worms having
six claw-feet and eight that stick by pressure, will not easily
fall off the boards. The worm, 1; its head, 2; feet, 3 3 ;
and silk-bags, 4 4, are shown in fig. 29.
%
Ind-^6” r A^,C°unt of the Tusseh and Arrindy Silk-worms of Bengal,” by William Roxburgh, M.D., Linn. Trans., viii. 33; and “ British
SlnJ?, r ^lbrary)y “h 154. Also an elaborate and interesting paper in part ii. pp. 237-270, of Proceedings of Zoological
• V’ L‘ondon’ 1°o9i teing “ Synopsis of Asiatic Silk-producing Moths,” by F. Moore, assistant, Museum, India House comprising 30
species, minutely described, of wild silk moths, their caterpillars, and food. , co p e
VOL. XX. _
2 o
290
Silk-worm.
SILK.
Silk-worms ought to be fed with regularity at least four
times a day; additional or intermediate meals being given
when their extraordinary appetite is manifested. Ihe du¬
ration of the lives of these animals depends, to a certain
extent, upon temperature and locality; warmth, well kept
quarters, and abundance of food, being found to hasten the
spinning process. All these things should be very sedu¬
lously attended to by those who rear silk-worms in large
quantities with a view to profit, time being so imporant an
element in all commercial undertakings.
In the south of France 40 days is the average time elaps¬
ing from hatching to beginning to spin the cocoon. Dan-
dolo got the time reduced in his experiments to 30 days;
Bronski to 22, 23, and 24 days. The Chinese get to the
commencement of cocoon spinning in 24 days. In the
United States the best kind of cocoons feed 20 days, the
worst 50 days. In England worms hatched from foreign
eggs were 56 days before spinning. Others have been
45 days in one case, 70 days in another. Experience can
alone decide how far food and warmth may be safely supplied
so as to lessen the time.
When the silk-worm makes its first appearance, it is of a
dark colour, and measures only one or two lines in length;
after the lapse of eight days, it is attacked by a lethargic
sickness. The creature is about to cast its skin, and for
about three days it remains motionless, refusing food. On
the termination of this period the old skin opens at the an¬
terior end, the fore-legs are disengaged, and the new and
delicately attired worm escapes forth, to enjoy itself once
more on pastures green. It had previously exuded a
peculiar fluid, and had also, by means of its silken string
(how provident is benign nature!) fastened down its old
and useless coat, that it might not be dragged after it
when the hour of delivery has arrived. This coating is so
complete, that even the skin which covers the eyes, and the
teeth are thrown away. Immediately after this renewal, the
body of the worm appears grey and somewhat wrinkled,
the new coat being made full size to admit of future growth ;
but the latter attribute speedily disappears. It feeds freely
for five additional days, during which it grows to about halt
an inch in length, and is then seized by its second sickness,
and again casts its skin. Then succeed other five days of
feasting, in the course of which it increases to three quar¬
ters of an inch, when it sickens a third time, and acquires
in a similar manner a third suit. Again five days of feed¬
ing ; again a removal of the outer garment, or a fourth
casting of the skin. The caterpillar now measures from an
inch and a half to two inches long, and for a continuous
period of about ten days it eats voraciously, and increases
greatly both in length and thickness. On the expiry of
this last-mentioned period, it has attained the full size
of a silk-worm, being from two and a half to three inches
long. Its desire for food abates, it nibbles and wastes its
leaves, then ceases to eat, and becomes restless and uneasy,
moving circularly from side to side, owing to some instinc¬
tive feeling of desire to secure a quiet haven in which to
spin its silken shroud. Its colour is now of a palish-green,
with a mingling of a deeper hue. In the course of about
twenty-four hours from the time of its having ceased to
feed, the silky fluid becomes abundantly supplied to its
interior reservoirs ; the green colour disappears ; the body
becomes of a soft yellow, and somewhat transparent to¬
wards the neck. Previous to spinning, the general dimen¬
sions rather decrease than otherwise, but greater firmness
of substance is acquired.
When the desire to spin is thus unequivocally mani¬
fested, art must come in aid of nature. In China, netting
is extended on frames. In India, paper tubes are placed;
into these caterpillars will creep and weave their golden
woof incessantly till the work is done. Those who rear
extensively in Europe, supply their caterpillars with small
twigs or branches of broom, heath, or any other brush- Silk-worm,
wood, which happens to unite suppleness and tenacity,
These are placed carefully so as to form arches across the
tables, leaving in the arcades room for the worms to adjust
themselves comfortably to spin (fig. 30).
Great attention must now be paid in regard to keeping
up a moderately warm temperature. The observations of a
writer in the fifth volume of the Society for the Encourage¬
ment of Arts, amply illustrate this important point. He had
successfully reared 30,000 silk-worms, when in the begin¬
ning of July, just as they were about to spin, there came
a chilly north-east wind, and many assumed the chrysalis
state, without making any attempt to form a protecting
covering. On examining these individuals, it was apparent
that their silken reservoirs had been congealed by cold, so
that the insects were unable to draw out the filaments in
their usual slender state, their own capacity of movment
and exertion being no doubt at the same time chilled.
Even when they have commenced to spin, or have made
some progress in their labours, they will cease if exposed to
damp and cold, and if the surrounding web is still of sufficient
transparency, they may be seen lying idle and inactive in
the interior of their cocoons. But if the temperature is
raised, they will immediately resume their work. A heat
from 65° to 70° is thought advisable at this time. The
opposite extreme of oppressive heat or close temperature
must be equally avoided.
These beautiful silken coverings, or cocoons as they are
called, are generally completed in three or four days. 1 hey
are commenced by the formation of a loose decomposed
structure of an oval form, made of what is denominated
floss silk. Within this, in the course of the ensuing days,
the firmer cocoons are completed. These are rounded
somewhat oval balls, varying in tint, but some species give
cocoons of a golden hue, some others of a straw-colour, and
some white. Those of a bright yellow yield the greater
weight of reeled silk, but as the finer colouring substance
is contained chiefly in the gum which is boiled out before
weaving, less advantage is reaped by the grower. Raw
silk, of a pale colour, is moreover preferred, on account of
its better reception of certain dyes. Whether the insect
sleeps or not during spinning, it rests. Its daily work may,
by cutting the cocoon lengthwise, be separated, and the
different layers found indicate the rests, and are also dis¬
tinguished by great difference in the proportions of gum,
albumen, and colouring matter found in each. The in¬
cluded worm, having finished its labour, casts its skin once
more, but never appears again as a caterpiller, as it now
assumes that rounded shapeless form termed chrysalis.
The cocoons may be selected for reeling in about a week,
and then comes the ungrateful and ungracious task of de¬
stroying the peaceful tenants of the tomb. This is vari¬
ously accomplished, either by exposure (in sunny climates)
for some hours to unclouded solar light and heat; by
SILK.
291
gilk-worm. steam ; or by placing the cocoons in a temperature corre-
Wv*' spending to that of an oven from which loaves have just been
withdrawn after being baked.
If not killed, the chrysalis remains in its natural dor¬
mant state for a longer or shorter time, in accordance with
the clime in which it has had its birth. In eastern coun¬
tries this is not more than eleven days; in the most south¬
ern parts of Europe from eighteen to twenty; in France
about three weeks; in England, if unaided by artificial
means, about a month. After these respective periods, ac¬
cording to climate, whether natural or acquired, the perfect
moth emerges, and the reason for destroying the chrysalis
is this, that, in emerging, the moth makes an opening
by softening the gum and putting aside the silk thread,
and so by letting in the water prevents the cocoon being
reeled. A few, however, are of course spared for the sake
of a future progeny, sound cocoons being selected, and in
equal numbers as to sex. The worms break out of the egg
in due season, go up to spin, and eventually emerge from
the cocoon, for the most part, from two to three hours after
the morning light reaches them.
Such as have been killed for reeling are, before the com¬
mencement of that process, placed in warm water, so that
their gummy nature may be partly softened, but not dis¬
solved. The length of silken thread which may be un¬
wound from a single cocoon, is in truth astonishing. Count
Dandolo found it occasionally to exceed 600 yards. The
French commissioners, examining Count Bronski’s cocoons,
saw one reeled which they certify to have been 982 metres in
length. The length must, to some extent, be indicated by
the weight of the cocoon, an Indian one of grains, and an
American one of 8 grains, may well be supposed to differ
greatly in length of thread ; more facts are needed to de¬
cide on any true average. The only English filature of any
magnitude for reeling silk was put into operation at Tiver¬
ton in 1825, by J. Heathcoat, Esq., who caused 35,000 lb.
of Florentine cocoons to be reeled there. The quality and
quantity of raw silk (about 3300 lb.) were satisfactory, and
this produce was wrought into lace. There was no profit
over silk grown abroad.
The following statements are intended to explain those
points which are necessary to the production of the raw
silk of commerce of the best quality, and at the least cost.
The silk-worm cultivated on the continent of Europe is
of the same family as that which produces the white silk we
import from China. So far as is at present known, the
Chinese cultivate the production of that domesticated
annual worm, which gives the pure white silk only, when
they wish to use the raw silk reeled from them in the manu¬
facture of their woven, plain, or flowered broad fabrics,
crapes, &c. They have, however, other species, some
monthly, or rather reproducing eight times; and some three-
monthly, or producing four successive hatchings and four
crops of cocoons, in the year. Like those of India (with
which they are probably identical in origin), these cocoons
are all inferior in weight, and, from the greater fineness of
filament, much more difficult to reel in an even size of
thread; therefore are much less valuable in commerce.
These silks, as also those from their wild silk-worms (of
which an immense quantity are gathered every year), are
spun and woven into the heavy silk cloths with which the
Chinese cover themselves in cold weather, and are cheap
enough for every common purpose. Those which were
brought into Europe originally produce chiefly yellow silk ;
but about one-tenth of the worms in each yellow hatch-
ing give cocoons of a spurious, inferior white colour. This
domesticated silk-worm of China, Bengal, or Europe, is
the larva of the Bombyx mori, a pale coloured moth, with
two or three obscure and transverse streaks, and a lunate
spot on the superior wings. This caterpillar feeds on the
leaves of the mulberry; and before assuming the chrysalis
form, it spins a protective covering. This cocoon is oval Silk-worm,
in shape, if by a female ; but if by a male, the cocoon is
round at each end, but of less circumference in the middle
part. The engraving (fig. 31) shows two species, 1 2, of
Fig. 31.
Italian worm ; the moth, 3 ; the cocoon of a male, 4; that
of a female, o; and the chrysalis b, with the last skin of
the worm, e in the latter. On the cocoon of the male is
shown, a a, the zig-zag mode in which the thread of silk is
laid in patches by the worm when forming its 'temporary
abode. The finest of each sex in size, weight, colour, and
compactness of make, are carefully selected and secured for
next year s eggs; any discoloured, or ill-made, are reeled
off without killing the chrysalis; the remaining good ones
are, in China, killed by being placed in hot dung; in India,
under the heat of the sun, or dung, or by baking; in
Europe, by baking (or which is best), by placing the co¬
coons in a steam bath.
Domesticated silk-worms will live, and even a small por¬
tion of a hatching may spin cocoons, if fed upon lettuce ;
but their existence is a weak and languid, because an
unnatural one. A healthy, full-grown worm shows, along
each ring on its back, from tail to head, an expansion and
contraction, indicating pulsation of 40 to 45 beats in a
minute. If fed on lettuce, this is reduced to 20 or 25, and
often lessens till the insect ceases to live. The mulberry-
leaf, therefore, furnishes its only natural aliment. This in
Italy and France is for the most part the produce of the
292 S I L K.
Silk-worm, white variety (Morus alba). The wild leaf, 1 ; grafted, 2 ;
black, 3; and large Multicaulis, 4, are shown in fig. 32.
The worm is always most safely and easily fed upon the
white kind until it has completed its last sloughing of
the skin; by that time the black mulberry (Morm nigra)
will usually have come into leaf \ and will, if the silk to
be produced be of the yellow colour, rurnish superior bril¬
liancy in dyeing the darker hues. For white silks, and
the lighter shades of dyed colours, no doubt the white,
or rose variety of mulberry, should furnish exclusively food
for the worms. Valentia silk is, to a large extent, pro¬
duced by worms fed on black mulberry-leaves. An ex¬
periment, by the hatching of about 10,000 worms at Not¬
tingham, in 1839, showed a loss of seven-eighths of the
worms which were partly fed on lettuce. Of those fed (by ne¬
cessity in this case, from the absence of any white mulberry-
trees) upon the leaves of the black mulberry, the loss, be¬
fore spinning of the worms hatched, was between 30 and
40 per cent. The loss in Europe, under peasant manage-
Fig. 34.
ment (which includes half the production of ordinary years),
is generally 40 to 60 per cent., fed upon white mulberry.
Larger proprietors suffer less loss from ordinary diseases,
often rearing 70 per cent, of the worms hatched. Epide¬
mics are, however, very fatal, when large numbers of worms
are bred together.
The mulberry-tree is well described, from its important
uses, by a French writer, Olivier des Serres, as “ full of the
blessing of God.” It is found growing in most temperate
climates in the Old World, and several varieties in the New.
Long before the time of Justinian it had been brought from
China or India into Persia and Asia Minor; and, at length,
was spread around the Bosphorus, and throughout Greece,
probably giving the name Morea to the Peloponesus. In
1130, Roger King of Sicily transported the tree, together
with silk-worms, and persons used to their cultivation, into
his own country. It became well known in Naples; from
whence, in 1493, certain nobles, who had followed Charles
VIII. to Italy, on their return from that unfortunate expe¬
dition, brought the mulberry, and planted it at Monteli-
mart; where, a few years since, these trees, the source of silk-worm,
so rich a branch of commercial industry to France, were
still the objects of almost religious veneration. Our
James I., desirous of emulating the successful efforts put
forth on the continent to establish the growth of silk, caused
black mulberry-trees to be planted in nearly every parish in
England, where thousands of them are still flourishing in a
fruitful old age. Experiments have frequently been made
for raising silk-worms in this country. The few in which
French or Italian eggs, and the black mulberry, have been
employed, proved successful. Bertezen thus took the
medal of the Society of Arts seventy years ago, by pro¬
ducing good cocoons and raw silk, no doubt hatching French
eggs, and using the black mulberry-leaf. The attempt, be¬
fore mentioned, made at Nottingham, was perfectly suc¬
cessful. Specimens of the cocoons are placed in the Adel-
phi, London, and in museums in Birmingham, Glasgow,
Manchester. &c. Three hundred of these cocoons weighed
a pound. In France and Italy two hundred and fifty are
usually required. The time from hatching to spinning w«s
prolonged about fourteen days by the humidity of our cli¬
mate. Cocoons spun by the common English silk-worm
average, when dry, each 1 to 1-|- grains (fig. 33); Bengal
Fig. 35.
rainy crop (November), 1^ to 2 grains (fig. 34); Italian vary
from 3 to 6 grains (fig. 35); Nottingham experiments from
foreign eggs, 2^ to 5 grains (fig. 36). In New Jersey, U.S.,
by two hatchings a-year, cocoons have been obtained from
one kind of silk-worm averaging about 5 grains (fig. 37) ;
and from another, an annual worm (Mammoth), weighing,
when dry, 6 to 8 grains (fig. 38). Though silk of good qua¬
lity may be produced in England, yet its cost, as compared
with that of drier climates, would render it unprofitable.
Fig. 36.
The mulberry-tree and the silk-worm thrive best in a
pure, dry air, in the neighbourhood of mountains, and in
illy districts, upon a dry soil. The tree should be trained
293
SILK.
lk-wonn.to a standard form, and an open head, being annually
pruned, and the stem and principal branches freed from in¬
sects. Thus treated, the trees will bear being stripped of
the leaves each year, for ages. At thirty years of age an
average tree will supply 50 lb. weight of leaves annually, and
250 lb. weight of leaves will feed 2500 worms, equal to the
Fig. 37.
production of 12 oz. weight of raw silk. The following
short particulars of a certain French “recolt” (crop) will
show consumption of food, and results:—The manager
hatched 11 oz. of eggs; t'.e., about 33,000 per oz., or
363,000, reduced gradually before spinning to 241,000.
He supplied, during 32 days, up to 30th May, and before
Fig. 38.
last change of skin, 10,600 lb. weight of leaves. On 31st
May, 1000 lb.; June 1, 1500 lb.; 2d, 25001b.; 3d, 2500
lb.; 4th, 2500 lb.; 5th, 2000 lb.; 6th, 500 lb.; i.e., during
these seven days of their great appetite, and filling silk bags
for future cocoons, these insects ate 12,500 lb. weight of
leaves; in all, they consumed 23,100 lb. weight of leaves ;
Fig. 39.
1050 lb. weight of cocoons were spun, from which 87^ lb. of
raw silk was reeled. To the peasant breeder, the cost of this
process is the labour of his family and himself, in planting,
pruning, hatching, gathering leaves, and feeding ; and the Silk-wonn.
proceeds paid to him for his cocoons in hard cash is usually y-*—'
entirely additional to his ordinary income. The average of
many years’ cost and prices, computed by a French grower
of high character, is, that the proprietor of large crops gains
12£ per cent.; and the purchaser and reeler of cocoons for
the market makes about 12^ per cent, upon his outlay in
capital, risk, and skill. A rough calculation is thus made
in France:—An ounce of eggs requires 20 quintals of leaves,
and will bring 1 quintal of cocoons, to be reeled into 120
ounces of silk. The temperature of the air in which silk¬
worms are bred should be at hatching about 85 deg. Fahr.,
and gradually lowered to 75 during great appetite, and 65
at spinning, and with adequate means provided for its fre¬
quent change. As the insect progresses in age and size,
the air without renewal soon becomes vitiated. Cleanliness
is imperatively necessary to its health; therefore vegetable
refuse and excrementitious matter must be withdrawn ; at
first weekly, then half-weekly, daily, and during the great
appetite, constantly. The leaves must be given to it free
from moisture, not heated, or even damp, however wet when
gathered. If there have been diseases amongst the worms
in the previous year, the walls, boards, and tools for cutting
off branches, and spreading out leaves, must be most care¬
fully scraped, washed, and purified. We have known dis¬
ease continue in a building, the wood-work and even walls
becoming leprous, and necessitating destruction, or disuse
for this purpose, of the place altogether. Late experience
for several years of the loss of half or two-thirds of the
crop in Europe, by epidemics amongst silk-worms, ren¬
ders this a most interesting and important point in man¬
agement. Foreign writers have enumerated as the dis¬
eases of silk-worms “ Calcines” and “ Lusettes,” “ Gras”
and “ Tripes,” and “ Muscadine;”—the two former pro¬
duced by electrical and atmospherical causes ; the next
two by improper state or quality of food ; the last as an in¬
eradicable plague or leprosy—the cause unknown. Each
of the first-named four diseases, if it invades a breed of
worms within the last ten days of their eating course, or
when going up the twigs for the purpose of spinning their
cocoons, is dangerous and difficult to remedy. Lessened
supplies of very carefully selected leaves, and plenty of
fresh air, into which are introduced the fumes of burned
aromatics acting as stimulants, have been, in China and
Europe, found most useful. A hatching has been saved,
when supposed to be beyond restoration to vigour, and
thrown out upon a straw-yard, by the clear cold air of night,
and almost every worm has formed its sound cocoon, the
crop being, four days after, gathered from the straw. In¬
creased dry temperature, together with vinegar burned in
large quantities for an hour or two, has sent up to spin
nearly every worm which had, from the first effort to mount,
fallen, in consequence of a sudden north-east cold blast, or
of a violent storm, and discharges of electricity. We have
observed two diseases not described in works on this sub-
iect (fig. 40). One Fi 4a
(1), probably the °
effect of lightning,
rendering the head
and two front rings
of a coal-black co¬
lour, and showing a
tight ligature be¬
yond ; the other (2)
swelling out the four
middle rings with
tight ligatures at
each end of these
rings. Both were fa¬
tal and incurable, as far as could be ascertained. This whole
subject of disease amongst silk-worms deserves more minute
294
SILK.
Silk-worm, inquiry throughout their whole course on the part of scien-
tific observers. This will necessitate a close analysis of the
proportions of fibre, resin, albumen, saccharine, and colour¬
ing matter and water, which enter into the composition of
the most healthy leaves, and from which the insect obtains
nutriment, and ultimately eliminates the silky materials for
its cocoon in largest abundance. All these silk-spinning
caterpillars can throw out, on the approach of danger, their
silk thread from the opening of the tube under their mouth,
attaching it at once to anything near; and this they do at
any time from the moment of hatching, even before having
eaten. The thread is double, supplied from long silk bags,
which open into the tube or duct where they are brought
together, and are there covered with gum and other matters,
which varnish hardens immediately on exposure to the air.
This filament of the cocoon is continuous through its whole
length ; its size is according to the species of caterpillar, and
also depends on the health and strength of each worm. It
decreases gradually as drawn out within the cocoon, till it
becomes at the last end only about two-thirds the size it
was at the outside commencement. The eventual thread of
raw silk is rendered of even size by its being composed in
reeling of two-thirds of the filament drawn from those
cocoons which are partially reeled off, and one-third from
those newly begun to be drawn off. Though the form of
this silk ball is somewhat rounded or oval, yet the insect
does not lay its thread in rings round its circumference, but
in zig-zag patches here and there; which, nevertheless,
when the cocoons are wound off in warm, or even cold
water, if the produce of healthy worms, will draw out in a
perfectly straight line ; and the whole covering of the chry¬
salis within will be wound off, from end to end (in length
usually of 600 to 1000 yards) frequently without breaking.
But if the insects have been weak or unhealthy; and if
therefore ill supplied with the varnishing, adhesive sub¬
stances which should make all parts of the entire length of
the thread equally compact as laid in the cocoon, and thus
equally softened by the warmth of the water, then one or
more of these zig-zag patches will often separate in a
mass from the remainder of cocoon, and come off, passing
towards the reel in a “ burr” or knott. This is not
all the mischief, which the following explanation shows:
—As the raw silk threads are winding off, they bring with
them 25 or 30 per cent, of their entire weight in gum. To
bind the four, six, or more filaments from as many cocoons
together in one thread, a certain proportion of this gum
must be left with the thread ; the remainder is forced
out. To accomplish this with ease and exactitude, the Silk-w
silk is generally wound from the basin (fig. 41, at 1) from ^ °rD
two sets of cocoons into two separate skeins on the reel; but
the thread of one skein is carried ten, fifteen, or twenty turns
round the other (at 2), and then again separately carried
forwards. This torsion forces out, according to the size of
the thread, and number of turns round each other, the
surplus quantity of gum. But if one of the burrs, above
spoken of, arrives at this entwining junction, it inevitably
breaks one of the threads, and then the whole of both pass
together, in one thread, upon the skein, which there be¬
comes, for so many scores of yards as the reel may draw olf
before its exceedingly swift revolutions can be stopped, a
thread of double size—twelve cocoons instead of (say) the
intended six cocoon silk (“un marriage”). This, however
careful the reeling, reduces the value of raw silk ten to fifty
per cent., and must result where there is an unhealthy state
of the worms. The best cocoons may be, from want of skill
or carelessness, reeled into uneven
silk. Brutia silk sold in 1825 at
10s. per lb.; care and skill have
raised its value to 30s., and even
40s. per lb. in recent years. The
pure white three-cocoon silk of the
Cevennes is worth 60s. to 70s. per
lb., this price being paid chiefly on
account of the perfect evenness of
so fine a thread. To avoid the
evils and loss resulting from double
threads in reeling, the thread of each
skein may, when the other is broken,
be cut by sharp blades (fig. 42), or
it may receive the necessary torsion
round itself (fig. 43, 1), then the burr
breaks it, and no more goes on the
reel till tied up afresh. Raw silks
may be reeled into threads of heavy
weights, say 20 or 40 cocoons each,
by a system of division into small numbers, say of four
or five cocoons each, at the basin, so as to admit of con¬
stant accuracy in keeping up supply to replace broken
filaments, and then giving the whole a subsequent union
before torsion (croissee) (fig. 43, 2; and fig. 44). The
Fig. 43.
result will be perfect evenness of thread; and for most useful
purposes a saving of all the expense of labour and waste in
winding from the fine raw, and doubling to make the thread
heavy enough for the loom. This method (discovered by
us, and patented in France and Italy in 1825) has become
almost universal where the raw silk is used, unboiled, or
where heavy “ trames” are desired of an even, good quality.
Raw silk may be reeled, and receive an actual twist at the
same time, while passing upon the bobbin (fig. 45). This
also was the subject of a patent in 1825-26; but in prac¬
tice nothing is gained by it in time or labour, and certain
inconveniences appear to be an unavoidable result.—For
peasants to reel their own cocoons is an unwise system?.
SILK. 295
worm cocoons? wound off by professed silk-reelers, always
" _j produce a much more valuable result in quantity and price.
The peasant reeled raw silk of China, India, and every other
silk - growing country,
mixing, as it more or
less does, with “filature”
(factory reeled) raw silk,
tends to depreciate the
character of really first-
class productions. Pea¬
sant reeling is rapidly
going out of use in
France and Italy.
It follows, from what
has been stated, that, in
order to obtain good raw
silk, there must be good,
well made cocoons, reeled
with care and skill. In
order to get such co¬
coons there must be
healthy worms; and to
secure these, pure air,
dry, wholesome food, and
vigilant superintendence, and this not in low and marshy,
but in hilly parts, where the mulberry-leaf will, instead of
gross watery substance and large size and weight (which
may suit the planter but kill the worm), possess a warm
Fig. 45.
and somewhat exciting flavour and scent. The more
worms spin out of a given number hatched, the more silk
will be reeled from their cocoons, and the more valuable
the product in sale and use.
The silk-worm does not eat a quantity of food propor¬
tionate to the size and weight of its cocoon, as compared
with others. The worm acclimated in England eats as
much as the French, yet the cocoon of the former yields
only one-fifth of the weight of silk. The growth of the
Bengal silk of commerce supplies a most important example
of neglecting this fact. This Indian silk is produced partly
by a worm rehatching four times a-year, viz., two three-
monthly, fine weather “ bunds” (crops), and two rainy
“bunds,”and partly by one annual w'orm ; both kinds are fed
on mulberry, the Morus Indicus. Three thousand cocoons
produce, from French or Italian worms, 16 oz.of raw silk. It
requires 14,000 of Indian annual crop, and often 20,000 to
22,000 cocoons of three-monthly crop, to reel into the like
w eight, and that of far inferior quality and value. The thread
of the Bengal silk-worm is so attenuated, that a very large
proportion of the cocoons breaks off in reeling, and there may
be twenty to thirty required to obtain the required size—a
number which any one accustomed to silk-reeling will know
cannot be counted. Six or ten are therefore supplied at Silk-worm,
once, which render an even thread, and consequent average
value in the market, impossible. The remedy at once seems
to suggest itself. Resort to China, to America, or to the conti¬
nent of Europe, for other and better eggs. This was pro¬
posed to the East India Directors in 1832. The memorial
was forwarded to the council in Bengal, and by Lord W.
Bentinck to every filature. A few pounds sterling would
have secured eggs for the supply of every silk-growing dis¬
trict in the peninsula; but they were not obtained, and
things remained much as before—a fivefold prime cost, and
an article of two-thirds the value. The lamented death of
the late Dr Royle has alone prevented the special points
insisted upon in this paper (as in the memorial referred to)
from again reaching India, and strengthened by his scien¬
tific researches, so as to give them effect in improving this
truly important and wide-spread product of Indian labour.
It is a fact not so well known as it ought to be, that there
are more people on the face of the globe clad in silk fabrics
than in any other textile material whatever. To what ex¬
tent India might, by this substitution of superior breed of
w'orms, with other improvements, supply Europe and the
world with silk, it is difficult to say. The real cost of the
silk supplied in 1800 was but 10s. per lb.; all the testimony
of experienced civilians, together with that of the Com¬
pany itself, say it need only cost 7s. per lb. In 1827 it had
risen to 13s. per lb., all expenses paid on board. If the
annual worm of China or Europe were taken to the hitherto
useless millions of mulberry-trees now growing amongst the
lower ranges of the Himalayas, the annual crop of cocoons
w'ould doubtless surpass in valuable results, by this three
months’ labour only, all the five crops added together at
present obtained, and leave the peasants nine months for
other profitable employment. Mr Bashford, of Surdah,
East Indies, an eminent silk-grower of long experience, in
a paper read to the Society of Arts, February 1857, states
that, havingimported French and Chinese eggs, he proceeded,
through very careful and well-arranged experiments, to
obtain cocoons equal to those of either country. But his
main object was to improve the native breeds of worms by
crossing them with the Chinese and French, and so con¬
tinue a three-monthly crop. There is no instance known
where any other than an annual crop yields good silk. This
plan did not succeed. Under the circumstances of exces¬
sive heat, and mulberry-trees growing in marshes, deep
in water, hatching-houses filthy and without ventilation,
and obstructive attendants, the best foreign worms would,
and did slowly, but effectually, become extinct. The facts
given by Mr Bashford confirm the principle that an annual
silk crop should be first obtained of cocoons from foreign
eggs ; and that the whole system, and even the localities for
carrying it on, should be, if needful, changed. I he ini¬
tiatory proceedings and expenses, which need be, for all
really useful purposes, of very moderate amount, should be
by public authority and at the public charge. Judging from
the spirit and talent evidenced in his paper, no man would
be more suitable for carrying them out with firmness, skill,
and prudence, than Mr Bashford himself.
An effort was made, 1840-1845, to grow mulberry-trees,
and produce raw silk, in Jamaica. The hilly parts of the
island were found sufficiently temperate for both trees and
worms. American eggs were hatched under the care of
an experienced grower from the United States, and several
small annual crops of excellent cocoons were the result. Silk,
of good quality, reeled from them, together with letters from
Lord Metcalf, the then public-spirited governor, under whose
auspices this attempt was originated, and others, which give
details of management, are now lying under our eye. But
the affair was in the hands of a public company, who laid
out at once too much capital, incurred heavy, yet needless,
expenses, and, growing impatient of slow returns, the spe-
Fig. 44.
296
S I L
S I M
Silver culation collapsed, and, it is presumed, a promising and
II perfectly feasible plan was abandoned. Yet one hundred
Simbirsk. p0unds weight of mulberry-seed, delivered to five hundred
Vs—negro peasants, having cottages and families amongst the
hills, followed three years after by one hundred ounces of
good silk-worms’ eggs, distributed, in like manner, would
have almost certainly resulted in crops of good cocoons.
Fifty or sixty basins and reels would have been required to
give the raw-silk. The total outlay would not have ex¬
ceeded L.500 sterling. The proverb is true of every effort
made successfully to grow this important raw material:
“ Patience and perseverance turn mulberry-leaves into the
silken robes of a queen.”
The following books will be found of use on the study
of silk :—
Le Tellier sur V Education des Vers d Soie, &c., 1744. IS Art de Cul-
tiver les Muriers blancs, d'clever les Vers d Soie ; et de tirer les Cocons,
Paris, 1757. Culture des Muriers blancs, et Education des Vers ct Soie
Pommier, Orleans, 1763. Memoires sur VEducation des Vers d Soie
et le Culture des Muriers blancs, L’Abbe des Sauvages, 2 vols., Simeon of
Nismes, 1763. Memoires sur la maniere d'clever Vers d Soie et la Durham
Culture des Muriers blancs, M. Thome, Lyon, 1767. Recherches sur ||
les Maladies des Vers d Soie, &c., P. H. Nysten, 1808. Recherches et Simferopol
experiences sur la Culture des Muriers blancs, Calvel, Paris, 1812. v ^
Memoire sur la greffe du Murier, Duvaure, 1818. In volume
seventieth of first series, and volumes second and seventh of second
series of Annales d'Agriculture Frangaise, interesting papers may be
found. Malphigi and Lewenhoek have written upon the anatomy
and habits of the silk-worm. Vincent St Laurent has given an
analysis of Dandolo’s celebrated work on the silk-worm. Trattato
sopra la Cultura del Gelso, &c., Naples, Velmont di Bolmano, 1796.
Under similar titles are works written in French by Bourgeons,
Constant Castellat, Isnard, Regnard, de St Jean du Gard, Duhamel,
and the Abbe Nollet. In Italian—by Vida, Le Guidoboni, Le
Gallo, Le Corsuccio, Garzoni, and Pol Francesco Pol Franceshi.
The following French works on Dyeing Silk may be consulted with
advantage:—L''Art de la Teinture Soye, Macquer, 1763. Sur les
Teintures Solides, ou receuil des Experiences, par Daubourney, Paris,
1778. Elemens de VArt de la Teinture, Berthollet, 2 vols., 1791.
Also the Journals of Arts and Manufactures, published by order of
the French Minister of the Interior. (w. F—N.)
SILVER. See Precious Metals.
SIMBIRSK, a government of European Russia, lying
between N. Lat. 52. 40., and 55. 40., E. Long. 45. 30. and
50.; bounded on the N. by the government of Kazan, E. by
that of Samara, S. by that of Saratov, and W. by those of
Nijni Novgorod and Penza. Area, 17,760 square miles.
Along the bank of the Volga, which forms the eastern
frontier of the government, runs a range of hills about 400
feet high. The rest of the country consists of a gently
undulating plain, watered by affluents of the Volga, the
chief of which is the Sura, itself the recipient of several
smaller streams. The lakes are very numerous, but almost
all of small size. The climate is extreme both in heat and
cold, the Volga being often frozen over for five months in
the year. It is, however, generally salubrious. The soil
is fertile, and well cultivated ; producing rye, wheat, oats,
barley, and other grain, in quantities more than sufficient
for the domestic consumption. Hemp, flax, and tobacco,
are also raised. The largest proportion of the area con¬
sists of arable land, which, in 1849, occupied 6,566,193
acres ; the meadow land covered 2,494,488 acres ; and the
forests 5,478,286 acres. These last chiefly occur in the
north of the government, and consist of birch, alder, and
oak trees. The number of horses in the country in 1849
was 531,582; of horned cattle, 363,330; of sheep,
1,084,684; of swine, 152,386; and of goats 7886. All,
however, are of inferior breeds; and the rearing of cattle
is not much attended to, except among the Kalmucks.
Although the country is not destitute of mineral resources,
no important mining operations are carried on. Several
branches of industry, however, are in vigorous exercise.
In the year 1849 the government contained 113 manufac¬
tories, employing 5684 hands. Among the former there
were 28 tanneries, 18 manufactories of cloth, 16 of tallow
and candles, and 13 of potash. A considerable trade is
carried on by the Volga; corn, hemp, cattle, hides (raw
and prepared), fish, and soap, being the chief articles ex¬
ported. The inhabitants for the most part belong to the
Greek Church ; but there are also 133 Roman Catholics,
128 Protestants, 76,441 Mohammedans, and 1291 Pagans.
Simbirsk is divided into 8 circles, as follows:—
Pop. (1851).
Simbirsk  143,243
Sysran 146,332
Ardatov  142,680
Karssun  162,368
Total pop. (1851) 
Pop. (1851.)
Alatyr  111,216
Buinsk  108,100
Kurmysch   98,737
Sengibej 111,566
 1,024,242
But in 1856 the total population amounted to 1,118,605.
The capital of the government is Simbirsk, which stands
on the Volga, about 100 miles S. of Kazan. Its houses
are chiefly of wood, and its streets narrow and irregular.
There are numerous churches and two convents; and
these, as well as an elegant market-house, are built of
stone. Simbirsk has also a monument to the historian
Karamsin, who was a native of the government. There
are here some tanneries, and manufactories of soap and
candles. Many of the inhabitants are also employed in
gardening and fishing. The trade of the place is consi¬
derable, and there is an active navigation on the Volga. A
large market is held here annually. Pop. 35,474.
SIMEON of Durham, the contemporary of William of
Malmesbury, must have been born late in the tenth century.
He took great pains in collecting historical information,
especially in the north of England, after the country had
been ravaged by the Danes. From these he composed a
history of the kings of England, from A. D. 616 to 1130,
with some smaller historical pieces. Simeon both studied
and taught the sciences, and particularly mathematics,
at Oxford; and he became precentor of the church at
Durham, where he died, probably soon after the conclusion of
his history, which was continued by John, prior of Hexham,
to the year 1156. Simeon is supposed to have died shortly
after 1130. His History is included in Twysden’s work, and
his History of Durham Cathedral was published in 1732.
Simeon, Charles, an eminently pious divine of the
Church of England, was born at Reading in 1759. He
was educated at Eton, and at King’s College, Cambridge,
where he received those deep impressions of religious truth
which formed so marked a feature of his character through¬
out his whole life. The theological studies of the place
formed for him the chief attraction. He was presented to
the living of Trinity Church, Cambridge, in 1783, and
continued to labour with an astonishing amount of assiduity
among both poor and rich, learned and ignorant, for the
next 53 years. In 1832, his sermons were published,
forming 21 volumes, with upwards of 2000 skeleton ser¬
mons, which have had a large degree of popularity among
the common run of preachers of Great Britain since his
time. He was on terms of intimate friendship with nearly
all the pious ministers of his day. None was more esteemed
than the godly missionary Henry Martyn. Simeon died
on the 13th November 1836, leaving behind him a name
for piety and worth not likely soon to be forgotten. (See
Memoirs of the Rev. Charles Simeon, by the Rev. W.
Carus, 1847.)
SIMFEROPOL, called formerly Akhmetschet, a town of
European Russia, capital of the government of Taurida, on
the Salghir, 192 miles S.E. of Odessa, and 40 N.E. of
Sebastopol. It consists of an old or Tartar town, and a
new portion, which has been built by the Russians. The
SIM
Simile former is irregularly and wretchedly built, while the latter
|| contains wide straight streets, and a spacious square. The
Simon. Greek cathedral here is one of the finest churches in
Russia. Among the other places of worship are a Roman
Catholic, an Armenian, and a Lutheran church, several
mosques, and a synagogue. The town contains also several
schools, a botanic garden, a large bazaar, an hospital, law-
courts, and public offices. Simferopol is the chief centre
of all the trade of the Crimea, and is inhabited by Russians,
Tartars, Greeks, Armenians, and Germans. Pop. 26,481.
SIMILE. See Comparison.
SIMLA, a British station in India, in the lower portion
of the Himalayas, between the rivers Sutlej and Giree, 22
miles N.E. of Soobathoo. It is celebrated for its salubrity,
and is much resorted to by invalids for the restoration of
their health. It consists of a number of houses irregulai’ly
scattered over a narrow mountain-ridge, terminated on the
east by the densely wooded peak of Jako, which rises to
the height of 400 feet, and on the west by a bare hill of
somewhat less height. The scenery of the place is very
fine, the valleys and ravines in the vicinity being covered
with pine-forests; while the eye may range towards the
south over the vast plain of the Sutlej, and towards the
north as far as the snowy crest of the Himalayas. The
population is very fluctuating. During the winters, which
are very severe, it is not more than 2000; but in the
milder seasons it is sometimes almost ten times that number.
SIMON MACCABEUS. See Jews and Jerusalem.
Simon, Richard, a learned Hebraist, was born at Dieppe
on the 15th May 1638. He began his studies in the
Oratory of that city, but in a short time quitted the
place. From Dieppe he went to Paris, where he made
great progress in the study of the oriental languages.
Some time afterwards he joined the society of the Oratory
again, and became a priest of it in 1660. In 1670 he
published some pieces of a smaller kind; and in 1678 his
Critical History of the Old Testament appeared, but was
immediately suppressed by the influence of the gentlemen
of Port-Royal. It was reprinted the year after, and its
excellence soon drew the attention of foreigners; an edi¬
tion of it was accordingly published at Amsterdam in
Latin, and in London, in English, in 1682. He died at
Dieppe in 1712, at the age of seventy-four.
Simon certainly possessed a vast deal of learning. His
criticism is exact, but not always moderate; and there
reigns in his writings a spirit of novelty and singularity
which raised him a great many adversaries. The most
celebrated of these were Le Clerc, Yossius, Jurieu, Dupin,
and Bossuet. Simon wrote an answer to most of the books
that were published against him, and displays a pride and
obstinacy in his controversial writings which do him little
honour. He was the author of a great many books. The
following are the principal, viz.:—The Ceremonies of the
Jews, 1674, translated from the Italian of Leo of Modena,
with a supplement concerning the sects of the Caraites and
Samaritans; The Critical History of the Old Testament,
1678 ; Critical History of the Text of the New Testament,
1685 ; Critical History of the Versions of the New Testa¬
ment, 1690 ; Critical History of the Principal Commen¬
tators on the New Testament, 1693; Inspiration of the
Sacred Books, 1687 ; A French Translation of the New
Testament, 1702, which was censured by Cardinal Noailies
and by Bossuet; The History of the Rise and Progress of
Ecclesiastical Revenues, 1684, which is commended by
Voltaire, as is his Critical History of the Old Testament;
A New Select Library, 1714, pointing out the good books
in the various departments of literature, and the use to be
made of them ; Critical History of the Belief and Customs
of the Nations on the Levant, 1711 ; and Critical Letters,
1730. Ihe works of Simon have nearly all been translated
into English.
VOL. xx.
SIM 297
SIMONIDES, a celebrated lyric poet of Greece, and Simonides,
one of the greatest masters of the elegy and the epigram ^ ^ >
which the world has yet known, was born at Julis, in the
island of Ceos, about 566 B.c. He belonged to a family
of lyric poets. His paternal grandfather had been a poet;
his nephew Bacchylides was a poet; and his grandson,
Simonides the younger, was a poet. His attention accord-
ing!y was early directed to impassioned verse as a vehicle
for communicating his thoughts, and time fully ripened
those powers which he had bestowed on lyrics from his
earliest years. Simonides was originally chorus-teacher
in the town of Carthaea in Ceos, and lived, while he held
that office, at the chorus-house, near the temple of Apollo.
He restrained early the lively ^enius of his island race by
the cultivation of philosophy, and the practice of modera¬
tion. ^ So much was this the case, that the moderation
(H ^ifuoviSov o-aicj^poavvr]) of the poet became proverbial.
Many apothegms and wise sayings are likewise attributed
to him, which show that he must have been a man much
given to reflection. The evasive answer ascribed to him,
when King Hiero of Syracuse asked, “ What is God ?”
he must share with the philosopher Thales, as it has
been recorded of both of them. He has been accused
of avarice by nearly all his biographers, founded partly
on the very insecure evidence of tradition, and partly
on the alleged enormity which he committed in selling
the products of the divine gift within him for a few pieces
of base gold. All our writers at the present day do like¬
wise, but then the sin [of Simonides consisted in antici¬
pating the present generation in the matter of literary
bargain-making by upwards of twenty centuries. One
would think he might be excused, at this date, for having
got so far ahead of his cotemporaries. Simonides, no doubt,
committed an unheard-of act in asking moneyed remunera¬
tion for his effusions. But it is one of the prerogatives of
genius to be guilty more or less of some outrage upon the
current practices of men. From all accounts left of the
poet Simonides, he must have been a keen, far-seeing man,
with no great amount of what is called character, with a
very noble disposition, and a delicacy that sometimes
bordered upon weakness. He was in the highest sense a
wise, and in some instances a very politic man. He seems
likewise to have possessed the rare gift, granted but to
few, of being capable of looking to the present life and its
wants, while he sang, as very few have ever sung, the
glories of victories and the sad wail of dirges, the honours
of heroes and the lustre which hung upon an Olympic
crown. To possess this eminently practical faculty, in
combination with such high poetic powers, is granted only
to such poets as Shakspeare, Moliere, and Goethe.
The greater portion of the later years of the poet was
passed in Sicily, at the court of Hiero of Syracuse. He
was in friendly intercourse with this monarch, and what
astonishes us more, with his professed opponent, Thero of
Agrigentum. The poet was the friend of Themistocles,
and of the Spartan general, Pausanias. He gained a high
reputation among the Greeks during the time of the Per¬
sian war. He wrote a splendid lyric on the heroes who had
fallen at Thermopylae, two grand odes on the sea-fight of
Artemisium, and the triumphant naval engagement of Sala-
mis, and he poured out all his sublime pathos on those who
had fallen at Marathon. A Thermopylsean epigram from
his pen has been preserved. “ Stranger, tell the Lacedemo¬
nians that we lie here in obedience to their laws.” He was,
on the whole, perhaps the most prolific lyrist which Greece
has known. He wrote hymns and prayers, paeans and hypor-
chemes, dithyrambs and parthenia for public festivals. He
composed matchless dirges and noble songs of victory for
private individuals. It was in the dirge that Simonides
excelled most. If Pindar could outsoar him in a lofty
flight, he could not equal him in grace where less wing ^
2 r
298
SIM
Simplicius was required. Simonides yielded himself to the genuine
II feelings of human nature, while Pindar, mounted grandly
Simplon. Up0n the pinions of his imagination, could outsing the
tempest in wild grandeur, or lend a plaintive grace to
the sighing of the hollow evening wind. Simonides
polished his verses with infinite care, while Pindar flung
them from him in a somewhat careless style, but completely
saturated with his genius. Pindar was the lyrist of majesty,
Simonides of pathos. The one could chant a triumph
to the armies of the world ; the other could sing a threnode
which would make the nations weep. Simonides died in
his ninetieth year, b.C. 468. Very little of his poetry now
remains, if we except the Lament of Danae. To Simonides
has been ascribed the invention of certain of the Greek
characters; but this is not well authenticated. His frag¬
ments will be found collected by Schneidewin in his
Simonidis Cei Carminis Reliquice, 1835, 8vo.
SIMPLICIUS, a celebrated commentator on Aristotle
and Epictetus, and one of the last representatives of the
Neo-platonic school, was born in Cilicia, probably between
A.D. 500 and A.D. 510, and flourished during the reign of
the Emperor Justinian. He was a disciple of Ammonius
and of Damascius, the last president of the Alexandrian
school. An edict was issued by Justinian in a.d. 528, that
the heathen philosophy should no longer be taught in
Athens, when Simplicius, along with six other philosophers,
resolved to seek protection from Chosroes, the famous
King of Persia. On reaching that distant court, they
found matters not quite so hopeful as they had been led to
anticipate. They resolved to return again to Greece, but
not before Chosroes, who had just concluded a treaty with
Justinian in A.D. 533, had inserted a clause in the contract,
stipulating the safe return of the seven philosophers, and
the liberty of practising the rites of their ancient faith on
their regaining their destination. On reaching Athens, Sim¬
plicius and the rest of his brethren went into voluntary re¬
tirement, where they probably spent the remainder of their
days in the quiet study of their favourite science.
Simplicius has left us four of the best commentaries on
Aristotle extant, viz., on the Categories; On the koul;
Concerning Heaven ; and on Physics ; besides an inter¬
pretation of the Enchiridion of Epictetus. In these com¬
mentaries he has left to posterity rich notices of his co¬
temporaries, and of the writers or thinkers who preceded
him. A student of ancient philosophy must frequently
have recourse to Simplicius, as to the only authority for
fragments of the Eleatics, the Mathematicians, and other
sects of the ancient schools of philosophy in Greece. Be¬
sides giving many extracts from the lost books of the Sta-
girite,°he likewise gives numerous ancient readings now no
longer in possession of scholars. Among the lost writings of
Simplicius are an abridgment of the Physics ot Jheophias-
tus, and a work upon the Syllogism. There have been vari‘
ous editions of his works on the books of Aristotle, both
Greek and Latin. They will be found contained in the
Scholia Aristotelem, by Ch. A. Brandis, Berlin, 1836. The
best edition of his comment on the Enchiridion oi Epicte¬
tus is that of Schweighauser, Greek and Latin, 2 vols.,
Leipzig, 1800. This work has been translated into Ger¬
man by Schulthess, Zurich, 1778; into French by Dacier,
Paris, 1715; and into English by Dr George Stanhope,
London, 1704.
SIMPLON, a pass of the Alps, between Switzerland
and Italy, in the east of the canton of Valais, celebrated
for the road which was constructed over it by order ot Na¬
poleon I. This is one of the greatest works of engineering
in modern times. It is 38 miles long, from Brieg in Valais
to Domo d’Ossola in Piedmont; its height is 6592 feet
above the sea ; its breadth from 25 to 30 feet; and in its
course it is carried over 611 bridges, and through many
tunnels.
Siinson.
SIM
SIMPSON, Thomas, professor of mathematics at the Simpson
Royal Academy at Woolwich, fellow of the Royal Society,
and member of the Royal Academy at Stockholm, was born
at Market-Bosworth in Leicestershire in 1710. His father,
a stuff-weaver, taught him only to read English, and brought
him up to his own business; but meeting with a scientific
pedlar, who likewise practised fortune-telling, young Simp¬
son by his assistance and advice left off weaving, and pro¬
fessed astrology. Ashe improved in knowledge, however,
he grew disgusted with this pretended art; and renouncing
it, was driven to such difficulties for the subsistence of his
family, that he came up to London, where he worked as a
weaver, and taught mathematics at his spare hours. As
his scholars increased, his abilities became better known,
and he published his Treatise of Fluxions, by subscription,
in 1737; in 1740, he published his Treatise on the ISature
and Laws of Chance, and Essays in Speculative and Mixed
Mathematics. After these, appeared his Doctrine of An¬
nuities and Reversions in 1742; Mathematical Disserta¬
tions, 1743; Treatise on Algebra, 1746; Elements of
Geometry, 1747; Trigonometry, Plane and Spherical,
1748; Select Exercises, 1752; and his Doctrine and
Application of Fluxions, 1750, which he professes to be
rather a new work, than a second edition of his former pub¬
lication on Fluxions. In 1743 he obtained the mathema¬
tical professorship at Woolwich academy ; and soon after¬
wards was chosen a member of the Royal Society, when
the president and council, in consideration of his moderate
circumstances, were pleased to excuse his admission-fees,
and his giving bonds for the settled future payments. At
the academy he exerted all his abilities in instructing the
pupils who were the immediate objects of his duty, as well
as others whom the superior officers of the ordnance per¬
mitted to be boarded and lodged in his house. In his
manner of teaching he had a peculiar and happy address, a
certain dignity and perspicuity, tempered with such a de¬
gree of mildness as engaged the attention, esteem, and
friendship of his scholars. He therefore acquired great
applause from his superiors in the discharge of his duty.
His application and close confinement, however, injured
his health. Exercise and a proper regimen were prescribed
to him, but to little purpose ; for his spirits sunk gradually,
till he became incapable of performing his duty, or even of
reading the letters of his friends. The effects of this decay
of nature were greatly increased by vexation of mind, owing,
it is said, to the haughty" behaviour of his superior, the
first professor of mathematics. This person, greatly his
inferior in mathematical accomplishments, did what he could
to make his situation uneasy, and even to depreciate him
in the public opinion; but it was a vain endeavour, and
only served to depress himself. At length his physicians
advised his native air for his recovery, and he set out in
February 1761 ; but was so fatigued by his journey, that
upon his arrival at Market-Bosworth, he betook himself to
his chamber, and grew continually worse till the day of his
death, which happened on the 14th of May, in the 51st
year of his age.
SIMSON, Dr Robert, professor of mathematics in the
University of Glasgow, was born in the year 1687, of a
respectable family, which had held a small estate in the
county of Lanark for some generations. He was, we think,
the second son of the family. A younger brother was pro¬
fessor of medicine in the University of St Andrews, and
is known by some works of reputation, particularly a Dis¬
sertation on the Nervous System, occasioned by the dissec¬
tion of a brain completely ossified.
Dr Simson was educated in the University of Glasgow
under the eye of some of his relations who were professors.
Eager after knowledge, he made great progress in all his
studies ; and, as his mind did not, at the very first openings
of science, strike into that path which afterwards so strongly
S I M S O N.
299
Simson.
attracted him, and in which he proceeded so far almost
without a companion, he acquired in every walk of science
a stock of information, which, though it had never been
much augmented afterwards, would have done credit to a
professional man in any of his studies. He became at a
very early period an adept in the philosophy and theology
of the schools, was able to supply the place of a sick rela¬
tion in the class of oriental languages, was noted for histo¬
rical knowledge, and one of the most accomplished botanists
of his time.
It was during his theological studies, as preparatory for
his entering into orders, that mathematics took hold of his
fancy. He used to tell in his convivial moments how he
amused himself when preparing his exercises for the divi¬
nity hall. When tired with vague speculation, in which
he did not meet with certainty to reward his labours, he
turned up a book of oriental philology, in which he found
something which he could discover to be true or to be false,
without going out of the line of study which was to be of
ultimate use to him. Sometimes even this could not relieve
his fatigue. He then had recourse to mathematics, which
never failed to satisfy and refresh him. For a long while
he restricted himself to a very moderate use of the cordial,
fearing that he would soon exhaust the small stock which
so limited and abstract a science could yield ; till at last he
found, that the more he learned, a wider field opened to
his view, and scenes that were inexhaustible. Becoming
acquainted with the subject far beyond the elements of the
science, and with numbers of names celebrated during that
period of ardent research all over Europe, he found it to be
a manly and important study, by which he was as likely to
acquire reputation as by any other. About this time, too,
a prospect began to open of making mathematics his pro¬
fession for life. He then gave himself up to it without re¬
serve.
His original incitement to this study as a treat, as some¬
thing to please and refresh his mind in the midst of more
severe tasks, gave a particular turn to his mathematical
studies, from which he never could afterwards deviate.
Perspicuity and elegance are more attainable, and more
discernible, in pure geometry, than in any other parts of
the science of measure. To this, therefore, he chiefly
devoted himself. For the same reason he preferred the
ancient mode of studying pure geometry, and even felt a
dislike to the Cartesian method of substituting symbols for
operations of the mind, and still more was he disgusted
with the substitution of symbols for the very objects of
discussion, for lines, surfaces, solids, and their aftections.
He was rather disposed, in the solution of an algebraical
problem, where quantity alone was considered, to substitute
figure and its affections for the algebraical symbols, and to
convert the algebraic formula into an analogous geometri¬
cal theorem. And he came at last to consider algebraic
analysis as little better than a kind of mechanical knack, in
which we proceed without ideas of any kind, and obtain a
result without meaning, and without being conscious of any
process of reasoning, and therefore without any conviction
of its truth. And there is no denying, that if genuine un¬
sophisticated taste alone is to be consulted, Dr Simson was
in the right; for though it must also be acknowledged, that
the reasoning in algebra is as strict as in the purest geo¬
metry of Euclid or Apollonius, the expert analyst has little
perception of it as he goes on, and his final equation is not
felt by himself as the result of ratiocination, any more than
if he had obtained it by Pascal’s arithmetical mill. This
does not in the least diminish our admiration of the alge- Simson.
braic analysis; for its almost boundless grasp, its rapid and
certain procedure, and the delicate metaphysics and great
address which may be displayed in conducting it. Such,
however, was the ground of the strong bias of Dr Simson’s
mind to the analysis of the ancient geometers. It increased
as he went forward; and his veneration for the ancient
geometry was carried to a degree of idolatry. His chief
labours were exerted in efforts to restore the works of the
ancient geometers; and he has nowhere bestowed much
pains in advancing the modern discoveries in mathematics.
The noble inventions, for example, of fluxions and of loga¬
rithms, by which our progress in mathematical knowledge,
and in the useful application of this knowledge, is so much
promoted, attracted the notice of Dr Simson ; but he has
contented himself with demonstrating their truth on the
genuine principles of the ancient geometry. Yet was he
thoroughly acquainted with all the modern discoveries; and
there are to be seen amongst his papers, discussions and
investigations in the Cartesian method, which show him
thoroughly acquainted with all the principles, and even
expert in the tours de main, of the most refined symbolical
analysis.1
About the age of twenty-five, Dr Simson was chosen
professor of mathematics in the University of Glasgow. He
went to London immediately after his appointment, and
there formed an acquaintance with the most eminent men
of that bright era of British science. Amongst these he
always mentioned Captain Halley (the celebrated Dr
Edmund Halley) with particular respect; saying, that he
had the most acute penetration, and the most just taste in
that science, of any man he had ever known. And, indeed,
Dr Halley has strongly exemplified both of these in his
divination of the work of Apollonius de Sectione Spatii,
and the eighth book of his Conics, and in some of the most
beautiful theorems in Sir Isaac Newton’s Principia. Dr
Simson also admired the wide and masterly steps which
Newton was accustomed to take in his investigations, and
his manner of substituting geometrical figures for the quan¬
tities which are observed in the phenomena of nature. It
was from Dr Simson that the writer of this article had the
remark which has been oftener than once repeated in the
course of this work, “ That the thirty-ninth proposition of
the first book of the Principia was the most important pro¬
position that had ever been exhibited to the physico-mathe-
matical philosopher;” and he used always to illustrate to
his more advanced scholars the superiority of the geometri¬
cal over the algebraic analysis, by comparing the solution
given by Newton of the inverse problem of centripetal
forces, in the forty-second proposition of that book, with
the one given by John Bernoulli in the Memoirs of the
Academy of Sciences at Paris for 1713. We have heard
him say, that to his own knowledge Newton frequently in¬
vestigated his propositions in the symbolical way, and that
it was owing chiefly to Dr Halley that they did not finally
appear in that dress. But if Dr Simson was well informed,
we think it a great argument in favour of the symbolical
analysis, when this most successful practical artist (for so
we must call Newton when engaged in a task of discovery)
found this process conducive either to dispatch or perhaps
to his very progress.
Returning to his academical chair, Dr Simson discharged
the duties of a professor for more than fifty years, with great
honour to the university and to himself.
It is almost needless to say, that in his prelections he fol-
1 In 1752 the writer of this article, being then his scholar, requested him to exaredne an account which he gave him of what he thought
a new curve (a conchoid having a circle for its base). Dr Simson returned it nex t day with a regular list of its leading properties, and
the investigation of such as he thought his scholar would not so easily trace. In this hasty scrawl the lines related to the circle were
familiarly considered as arithmetical fractions of the radius considered only as ui) ity. This was before Euler published bis Arithmetic
of the Sines and Tangents, now in universal use.
300
S I M S O N.
Simson.
lowed strictly the Euclidian method in elementary geometry
He made use of Theodosius as an introduction to spherical
trigonometry. In the higher geometry, he prelected from
his own Conics, and he gave a small specimen of the linear
problems of the ancients, by explaining the properties, some¬
times of the conchoid, sometimes of the cissoid, with their
application to the solution of such problems. In the more
advanced class, he was accustomed to give Napier’s mode
of conceiving logarithms, that is, quantities as generated by
motion, andSCoats’s view of them, as the sums of ratiun-
culae ; and to demonstrate Newton’s lemmas concerning
the limits of ratios, and then to give the elements of the
fluxionary calculus; and to finish his course with a select
set of propositions in optics, gnomonics, and central forces.
His method of teaching was simple and perspicuous, his
elocution clear, and his manner easy and impressive. He
had the respect, and still more the affection, of his scholars.
With respect to his studies, we have already informed the
reader that they got an early bias to pure geometry, and to
the elegant but scrupulous methods of the ancients. We
have heard Dr Simson say, that it was in a great measure
owing to Dr Halley that he so early directed his efforts to
the restoration of the ancient geometers. He had recom¬
mended this to him, as the most certain way for him, then
a very young man, both to acquire reputation and to im¬
prove his own knowledge and taste; and he presented him
with a copy of Pappus’s Mathematical Collections, enriched
with some of his own notes. The perspicuity of the ancient
geometrical analysis, and a certain elegance in the nature of
the solutions which it affords, especially by means of the
local theorems, soon took firm hold of his fancy, and made
him, with the sanguine expectation of a young man, direct
his very first efforts to the recovery of this in toto ; and the
restoration of Euclid’s Porisms was the first task to which
he set himself. The accomplished geometer knows what a
desperate task this was, from the scanty and mutilated
account which we have of this work in a single passage of
Pappus. It was an ambition which nothing but success
could justify in so young an adventurer. He succeeded ;
and as early as 1718, seemed to have been in complete pos¬
session of this method of investigation, which was considered
by the eminent geometers of antiquity as their surest guide
through the labyrinths of the higher geometry. Dr Simson
gave a specimen of his discovery in 1723, in the Philoso¬
phical Transactions ; and after this time he ceased not from
his endeavours to recover that choice collection of Poi isms
which Euclid had collected, as of the most general use in
the solution of difficult questions. What some of these must
have been, was pointed out to Dr Simson by the very nature
of the general proposition of Pappus, which he has restored.
Others were pointed out by the lemmas which Pappus has
given as helps to the young mathematician towai ds their
demonstration. And, being thus in possession of a consider¬
able number, their mutual relations pointed out a sort of
system, of which these made a part, and the blanks of which
now remained to be filled up.
Dr Simson, having thus gained his favourite point, had
leisure to turn his attention to the other works of the ancient
geometers ; and the porisms of Euclid now had only an occa¬
sional share. The loci plani of Apollonius was another
task which he very early engaged in, and completed about
the year 1738. But, after it was printed, he imagined that
he had not given the ipsissimce propositions of Apollonius,
and in the precise spirit and order of that author. 1 he
impression lay by him for some years ; and it was with great
reluctance that he yielded to the entreaties of his mathe¬
matical friends, and published the work, in 1746, with'some
emendations, where he thought he had deviated farthest
from his author. He quickly repented of this scanty con¬
cession, and recalled what he could of the small number of
copies which he had given to the booksellers, p,nd the im¬
pression again lay by him for years. He afterwards recor- Simson.
reeled the work, and still with some reluctance allowed it 's—>vW
to come abroad as the Restitution of Apollonius. The
public, however, had not been so fastidious as Dr Simson,
and the work had acquired great celebrity, and he was now
considered as one of the first and the most elegant geome¬
ters of the age; for, in the meantime, he had published his
Conic Sections, a work of uncommon merit, whether we
consider it as equivalent to a complete restitution of the
celebrated work of Apollonius Pergaeus, or as an excellent
system of this important part of mathematics. It is marked
with the same features as the loci plani, the most anxious
solicitude to exhibit the very text of Apollonius, even in the
propositions belonging to the books which had been com¬
pletely lost. These could be recovered in no other way but
by a thorough knowledge of the precise plan proposed by
the author, and by taking it for granted that the author had
accurately accomplished this plan. In this manner did
Yiviani proceed in the first attempt which was made to
restore the conics of Apollonius; and he has given us a
detail of the process of his conjectures, by which we may
form an opinion of its justness, and of the probability how-
far he has attained the desired object. Dr Simson’s view
in his performance was something different, deviating a little
in this one case from his general track. He was not alto¬
gether pleased with the work of Viviani, even as augmented
by the eighth book added by Halley, and his wish was to
restore the ancient original. But, in the meantime, an
academical text-book for conic sections was much wanted.
He was much dissatisfied with those in common use ; and
he was not insensible of the advantage resulting from the
considerations of these sections, independent of the cone
first introduced by Dr Wallis. He therefore composed
this excellent treatise as an elementary book, not to super¬
sede, but to prepare for the study of Apollonius; and
accordingly he accommodates it to this purpose, and gives
several important propositions in their proper places, ex¬
pressly as restitutions of Apollonius, whom he keeps con¬
stantly in view through the whole work.
Much about this time. Dr Simson seriously began to pre¬
pare a perfect edition of Euclid’s Elements. The intimate
acquaintance which he had by this time acquired with all
the original works of the ancient geometers, and their ancient
commentators and critics, encouraged him to hope that he
could restore to its original lustre this leader in mathemati¬
cal science ; and the errors which had crept into this cele¬
brated work, and which still remained in it, appeared of
magnitude sufficient to merit the most careful efforts for
their removal. The data also, which were in like manner
the introduction to the whole art of geometrical investiga¬
tion, seemed to call more loudly for his amending hand.
For it appears that the Saracens, who have preserved to us
the writings of the ancients, have contented themselves
with admiring these celebrated works, and have availed
themselves of the knowledge which they contain; but they
have shown no inclination to add to the stock, or to pro¬
mote the sciences which they had received. They could
not do anything without the synthetical books of the geo¬
meters ; but, not meaning to go beyond the discoveries
which they had made, they neglected all the books which
related to the analytic art alone, and the greatest part of
them (about twenty-five out of thirty) have irrecoverably
perished. The data of Euclid have fortunately been pre¬
served, but the book was neglected, and the only ancient
copies, which are but three or four, are miserably erroneous
and mutilated. Fortunately, it is no very arduous matter
to reinstate this work in its original perfection. The plan
is precise, both in its extent and its method. It has been
restored, therefore, with success by more than one author.
But Dr Simson’s comprehensive view of the whole analyti¬
cal system pointed out to him many occasions for amend-
SIM!
Simson. ment. He therefore made its restitution a joint task with
that of the elements. All the lovers of true geometry will
acknowledge their obligations to him for the edition of the
Elements and Data which he published about 1758. Ihe
text is corrected with the most judicious and scrupulous
care, and the notes are inestimable, both for their informa¬
tion, and for the tendency which they must have to form
the mind of the student to a true judgment and taste in
mathematical subjects. The more accomplished reader will
perhaps be sometimes disposed to smile at the axiom which
seems to pervade the notes, “ that a work of Euclid must
be supposed without error or defect.” If this was not the
case, Euclid has been obliged to his editor in more in¬
stances than one. Nor should his greatest admirers think
it impossible, that in the progress of human improvement,
a geometrical truth should occur to one of these latter days
which escaped the notice even of the lynx-eyed Euclid.
Such merit, however, Dr Simson nowhere claims, but lays
every blame of error, omission, or obscurity, to the charge
of Proclus, Theon, and other editors and commentators of
the renowned Grecian.
There is another work of Apollonius on which Dr Simson
has bestowed great pains, and has restored, as we imagine,
omnibus numeris perfectum, namely, the Sectio Determi-
nata; one of those performances which are of indispensable
use in the application of the ancient analysis. This also
seems to have been an early task, though we do not know
the date of his labours on it. It did not appear till after
his death, being then published along with the great work,
the Porisms of Euclid, at the expense of the Earl Stan¬
hope, a nobleman intimately conversant with the ancient
geometry, and zealous for its reception amongst the ma¬
thematicians of the present age. He had kept up a constant
correspondence with Dr Simson on mathematical subjects,
and at his death in 1768, engaged Clow, professor of logic
in the University of Glasgow, to whose care the doctor
had left all his valuable papers, to make a selection of such
as would serve to support and increase his well-earned
reputation as the restorer of ancient geometry.
We have been thus particular in our account of Dr Sim-
son’s labours in these works, because his manner of execu¬
tion, whilst it does honour to his inventive powers, and
shows his just taste in mathematical composition, also con¬
firms our former assertion, that he carried his respect for
the ancient geometers to a degree of superstitious idolatry,
and that his fancy, unchecked, viewed them as incapable of
error or imperfection. This is distinctly to be seen in the
emendations which he has given of the texts, particularly
in his editions of Euclid. Not only every imperfection of
the reading is ascribed to the ignorance of copyists, and
every indistinctness in the conception, inconclusiveness in
the reasoning, and defect in the method, is ascribed to the
ignorance or mistake of the commentators; but it is all
along assumed that the work was perfect in its kind, and
that by exhibiting a perfect work, we restore the genuine
original. This is surely gratuitous ; and it is very possible
that it has, in some instances, made Dr Simson fail of his
anxious purpose, and give us even a better than the original.
It has undoubtedly made him fail in what should have been
his great purpose, namely, to give the world a connected
system of the ancient geometrical analysis, such as would,
in the first place, exhibit it in its most engaging form, ele¬
gant, perspicuous, and comprehensive ; and, in the next
place, such as should engage the mathematicians of the
present age to adopt it as the most certain and successful
conductor in those laborious and difficult researches in
which the demands of modern science continually engage
them. And this might have been expected, in the pro¬
vince of speculative geometry at least, from a person of
such extensive knowledge of the properties of figure, and
who had so eminently succeeded in the many trials which
•S O N. 301
he had made of its powers. We might have expected that Simson.
he would at least have exhibited in one systematic point of
view what the ancients had done in several detached
branches of the science, and how far they had proceeded in
the solution of the several successive classes of problems ;
and we might have hoped, that he would have instructed
us in what manner we should apply that method to the so¬
lution of problems of a more elevated kind, daily presented
to us in the questions of physico-mathematical science. By
this he would have acquired distinguished honour, and
science would have received the most valuable improve¬
ment. But Dr Simson has done little of all this ; and we
cannot say that great helps have been derived from his
labours by the eminent mathematicians of this age, who
are successfully occupied in advancing our knowledge of
nature, or in improving the arts of life. He has indeed
contributed greatly to the entertainment of the speculative
mathematician, who is more delighted with the conscious
exercise of his own reasoning powers than with the final
result of his researches. Yet we are not even certain that
Dr Simson has done this to the extent he wished and
hoped. He has not engaged the liking of mathematicians
to this analysis, by presenting it in the most agreeable form.
His own extreme anxiety to tread in the very footsteps of
the original authors has, in a thousand instances, precluded
him from using his own extensive knowledge, that he might
not employ principles which were not of a class inferior to
that of the question in hand. Thus, of necessity, did the
method appear trammelled. We are deterred from em¬
ploying a process which appears to restrain us in the appli¬
cation of the knowledge which we have already acquired ;
and, disgusted with the tedious, and perhaps indirect path,
by which we must arrive at an object which we see clearly
over the hedge, and which we could reach by a few steps,
of the security of which we are otherwise perfectly assured.
These prepossessions are indeed founded on mistake ; but
the mistake is such, that all fall into it, till experience has
enlarged their views. This circumstance alone has hitherto
prevented mathematicians from acquiring that knowledge
of the ancient analysis which would enable them to proceed
in their researches with certainty, despatch, and delight.
It is therefore deeply to be regretted that this eminent
genius has occupied, in this superstitious palaeology, a long
and busy life, which might have been employed in original
works of infinite advantage to the world, and honour to
himself.
Our readers will, it is hoped, consider these observations
as of general scientific importance, and as intimately con¬
nected with the history of mathematics ; and therefore as
not improperly introduced in the biographical account of
one of the most eminent writers on this science. Dr Sim¬
son claimed our notice as a mathematician ; and his affec¬
tionate admiration of the ancient analysis is the prominent
feature of his literary character. By this he is known all
over Europe ; and his name is never mentioned by any
foreign author without some very honourable allusion to his
distinguished geometrical elegance and skill. Dr James
Moor, professor of Greek in the University of Glasgow, no
less eminent for his knowledge in ancient geometry than for
his professional talents, put the following apposite inscrip¬
tion below a portrait ol Dr Simson :—“ Geometriam, sub
Tvranno barbaro saeva servitute diu squalentem, in liber-
tatem et decus antiquum vindicavit unus. ’
Yet it must not be understood that Dr Simson’s predi¬
lection for the geometrical analysis of the ancients did
so far mislead him as to make him neglect the symbo¬
lical analysis of the present times ; on the contrary, he was
completely master of it, as has been already observed, and
frequently employed it. In his academical lectures to the
students of his upper classes, he used to point out its proper
province, which he by no means limited by a scanty boun-
302 SIM
Simson. dary, and in what cases it might be applied with safety
and advantage even to questions of pure geometry. He
once honoured the writer of this article with the sight
of a very short dissertation on this subject, perhaps the one
referred to in the preface to his Conic Sections. In this
piece he was perhaps more liberal than the most zealous
partizans of the symbolical analysis could desire, admitting
as a sufficient equation of the Conic Sections L —, where
L is the latus rectum, x is the distance of any point of the
curve from the focus, p is the perpendicular drawn from the
focus to the tangent in the given point, and c is the chord
of the equicurve circle drawn through the focus. Unfor¬
tunately this dissertation was not found amongst his papers.
He spoke in high terms of the analytical works of Cotes,
and of the two Bernoullis. He was consulted by Mac-
laurin during the progress of his inestimable Treatise of
Fluxions, and contributed not a little to the reputation of
that work. The spirit of that most ingenious algebraic de¬
monstration of the fluxions of a rectangle, and the very
process of the argument, is the same with Dr Simson’s in
his dissertation on the limits of quantities. It was there¬
fore from a thorough acquaintance with the subject, and by
a just taste, that he was induced to prefer his favourite ana¬
lysis, or, to speak more properly, to exhort mathematicians
to employ it in his own sphere, and not to become ignorant
of geometry, while he successively employed the symbolical
analysis in cases which did not require it, and which suffered
by its admission. It must be acknowledged, however,
that in his later years, the disgust which he felt at the arti¬
ficial and slovenly employment on subjects of pure geome¬
try, sometimes hindered him from even looking at the most
refined and ingenious improvements of the algebraic ana¬
lysis which occur in the writings of Euler, D'Alembert, and
other eminent masters. But, when properly informed of
them, he never failed to give them their due praise ; and we
remember him speaking, in terms of great satisfaction, of
an improvement of the infinitesmal calculus, by D’Alem¬
bert and Lagrange, in their researches concerning the pro¬
pagation of sound, and the vibration of musical cords.
And that Dr Simson was not only master of this calculus
and the symbolical calculus in general, but held them in
proper esteem, appears from two valuable dissertations to be
found in his posthumous works ; the one on logarithms, and
the other on the limits of ratios. The last, in particular,
• shows how completely he was satisfied with respect to the
solid foundation of the method of fluxions ; and it contains
an elegant and strict demonstration of all the applications
which have been made of the method by its illustrious
author to the objects of pure geometry.
We hoped to have given a much more complete and in¬
structive account of this eminent geometer and his works,
by the aid of a person fully acquainted with both, and able
to appreciate their value ; but an accident has deprived us
of this assistance, when it was too late to procure an equi¬
valent. And we must request our readers to accept of this
very imperfect account, since we cannot do justice to Dr
Simson’s merit unless almost equally conversant in all the
geometry of the ancient Greeks.
The life of a literary man rarely teems with anecdote ;
and a mathematician, devoted to his studies, is perhaps more
abstracted than any other person from the ordinary occur¬
rences of life, and even the ordinary topics of conversation.
Dr Simson was of this class ; and, having never married,
lived entirely a college life. Having no occasion for the
commodious house to which his place in the university en¬
titled him, he contented himself with chambers, good, in¬
deed, and spacious enough for his sober accommodation,
and for receiving his choice collection of mathematical
writers, but without any decoration or commodious furni¬
ture. His official servant sufficed for valet, footman, and
SIN
chambermaid. As this retirement was entirely devoted to Sinai,
study, he entertained no company in his chambers, but in a
neighbouring house, where his apartment was sacred to him
and his guests.
Having in early life devoted himself to the restoration of
the works of the ancient geometers, he studied them with
unremitting attention ; and, retiring from the promiscuous
intercourse of the world, he contented himself with a small
society of intimate friends, with whom he could lay aside
every restraint of ceremony or reserve, and indulge in all
the innocent frivolities of life. Every Friday evening was
spent in a party at whist, in which he excelled, and took
delight in instructing others, till increasing years made him
less patient with the dulness of a scholar. The card-party
was followed by an hour or two dedicated solely to playful
conversation. In like manner, every Saturday he had a
less select party to dinner at a house about a mile from
town. The doctor’s long life gave him occasion to see the
dramatis personce of this little theatre completely changed,
whilst he continued to give it a personal identity; so that,
without any design or wish of his own, it became, as it
were, his own house and his own family, and went by his
name.
Dr Simson was of a good stature, with a fine counte¬
nance ; and even in his old age he had a graceful carriage
and manner, and always, except when in mourning, dressed
in light coloured clothes. He was of a cheerful disposition ;
and though he did not make the first advances to acquaint¬
ance, had the most affable manner, and strangers were at
perfect ease in his company. He enjoyed a long course of
uninterrupted health ; but towards the close of life suffered
from an acute disease, and was obliged to employ an assist¬
ant in his professional labours for a few years preceding his
death, which happened in 1768, at the age of eighty-one.
He left to the university his valuable library, which is now
arranged apart from the rest of the books, and the public
use of it is limited by particular rules. It is considered as
the most choice collection of mathematical books and manu- 4
scripts in the kingdom, and many of them are rendered
doubly valuable by Dr Simson’s notes. (j. r.)
SINAI (Heb. 0*D, Gr. Stvd), a celebrated mountain
in Arabia Petraea. The name, however, is frequently ap¬
plied to the whole peninsula in which the mountain stands;
lying between the two northern arms of the Red Sea, the
Gulf of Suez ( anc. Heroopoliticus Sinus) on the west, and
that of Akabah (anc. Aelaniticus Sinus) on the east, and
terminating to the south in the promontory of Ras Moham¬
med (anc. Posidium). The northern part of this peninsula,
from Suez to Akabah, consists of a tableland of chalk for¬
mation, called Et-Tih, or the Wilderness of the Wandering.
1 his plateau is bounded on the south by a line of moun¬
tains called Jebel Tih, extending across the whole breadth
of the peninsula, and curving slightly to the south. South
of this lies a mountainous and granitic region, which ex¬
tends on the east to the Gulf of Akabah, but is separated
from that of Suez, on the west, by a narrow alluvial strip
called El-Kaa. The Wilderness of Paran, in which the
Israelites wandered for a great part of the forty years, is the
northern part of Et-Tih; that of Sin through which they
passed, between the Red Sea and Sinai, is probably to be
placed in the north-west of the granitic region ; while Zin,
or the Wilderness of Kadesh, lay to the north of the Gulf of
Akabah. 1 he mountainous part of the peninsula is com¬
monly called Sinai by Christians of the present day, but the
Arabs designate it Jebel et-Far. In a more restricted sense
the name Sinai is applied to the loftiest ridge among these
mountains, running between two valleys from Horeb, on
the north, to the summit called Jebel Katherina, on the
south. Which of the several particular mountains in the
district of Sinai is the actual one from which the law was
delivered to the Jews, is a question on which there are at
S I N
SIN 303
Sinclair.
least two different theories or traditions. One of these
identifies the Mount Sinai of the Scripture history with
Serbal, at the north-west corner of the mountains, rismg
with five sharp peaks, above the fertile oasis o a y
Pharan ; the other place is in the very centre of the group,
about 30 miles south-east of the former. The first of these
views, which was held by Burckhardt and Lepsius, is sup¬
ported by the testimony of Cosmas Indicopleustes, and is
believed by its maintainers to derive countenance from the
remarkable inscriptions found in the vicinity of Gerbal.
The latter opinion has the sanction of all the traditions,
from the time of Justinian downwards, and is upheld by
most modern travellers and scholars. Jebel Musa rises to
the height of 6452 feet, but there are several much loftier
summits in the group, that of Horeb being 7688, and that
of Jebel Katherina 8848 feet high. The convent of St
Catherine, said to have been founded by the empress Helena,
near the traditionary spot where the law was given, stands
at the foot of Jebel Musa, but it is more probable that
Horeb was the actual site, as Jebel Musa is three miles
distant, and not visible from the plain where the Israelites
must have been encamped. As to the singular inscriptions
on the rocks about Gerbal, which form the strongest argu¬
ments in favour of that mountain, it is by no means certain
that they are the work of the Israelites, for they may be
attributed, with at least as much probability, to the eaily
Arabians, among whom, before the time of Mahomet, this
region was resorted to as a place of peculiar sanctity. The
character in which they are written resembles the ancient
Araum, and we know that the practice of graving such me¬
morials prevailed anciently in those countries.
SINCLAIR, Sir John, Baronet, was born at Thurso
Castle, in the county of Caithness, on the 10th of May
1754. He received his education successively at Edin¬
burgh, Glasgow, and Oxford. Having completed his pre¬
liminary studies, he became a member of the Scottish So¬
ciety of Advocates, and was subsequently called to^the
English bar. He began his parliamentary career in 1 <80,
when he was chosen member for his native county. He
continued a member of the British Parliament for more
than thirty years, during which time the country passed
through a very eventful era. His reputation was soon fixed
as a patron and promoter of Scottish agriculture, and as an
enthusiastic student of politics, statistics, and medicine.
The opinions of Sinclair on finance were highly esteemed by
the prime minister Pitt, and he was before long elevated to
the baronetage mainly through the influence of that states¬
man. He continued with amazing industry to organize
societies for manufacturing and agricultural purposes, and
exerted himself in an extraordinary manner to promote the
general wellbeing of the Scottish people. His patriotic
efforts in no degree fell short of his zeal for the material
good of the country. He raised battalions of 1000 men
each in the counties of Ross and Cromarty, which formed
the first fencible regiments whose services were extended
beyond the kingdom. His philanthropic pen was ever busy
in suggesting “ plans,” “ hints,” and “ observations,” &c., for
the amelioration of some national or social evil. Sir John
Sinclair was the author of eighteen distinct works, of which
the most extensive was his History of the Public Revenue
of the British Empire, 3 vols., 1784. He was the author,
either by suggestion or by endorsement, of 367 books and
pamphlets, of which the largest was the Statistical Account
of Scotland, dravm up from the communications of the
Ministers of the different parishes, 1791—9, 21 vols. Sin¬
clair was a man of talent rather than a man of genius, but
what he wanted in native vigour of mind, he tried to make
up by indomitable perseverance. He died on the 21st Sindh.
December 1835. (See Memoirs of the Life and Works of
Sir John Sinclair, Bart., by his son, the Rev. John Sin¬
clair, 2 vols., 1837.)
SINDH. The province of Sindh, inlhe Bombay Pre-Extent and
sidency of British India, extends from N. Lat. 23. 37. to t)oun(laries'!
28. 32., and from E. Long. 66. 43. to 71. 3. It is bounded
on the N. by Biluchistan and Bhawalpur; on the E. by the
Rajput States of Jaysalmir and Jodhpur; on the S. by
Kachh and the Indian Ocean; and on the W. by Makran
and the other territories of the Khan of Kalat. It contains
an area of 60,240 square miles,1 being 360 miles long, and
270 miles broad in its greatest breadth.
The province derives its name from the Sindh, or Indus,
without whose fertilizing waters the whole country would
become a desert.
In its general appearance Sindh much resembles the General
valley of the Nile.2 It is one vast flat, bounded on the aspect
west by the Hala Hills, and on the. east by the Great * ° coua
Desert, which girdles Rajputana on the north and west.
In the centre of this level valley flows the Indus, from
which myriads of canals and water-courses are drawn, so as
to intersect in all directions the adjacent country. Near
Sakkar, in Upper or Northern Sindh, groves of palm-trees
fringe the river, and lower down these are succeeded by
dense forests of small trees, principally the Babur, or
Acacia Arabica, which were formerly used as Shikdrgdhs,
or “hunting grounds” by the Amirs, and are now carefully
protected as supplying wood fuel for steamers, and preserv¬
ing cultivated tracts from the encroaching sands of the
desert. At about 60 miles in a direct line from the sea
the Indus separates near Thatha into two great branches,
the Sata, or Eastern, and the Baghar, or Western, thus
forming a delta, which is more arid and barren than the
tract to the north of it as far as Sakkar.
The source of the Indus, the river of Sindh, whose total The Indus,
course is reckoned in round numbers at 1800 miles, is at
the north of the Kailas Mountain, one of the loftiest peaks
of the Himalyas, in N. Lat. 32., E. Long. 81. 30. Ihe
stream near its rise is called the Sinh Kd Bab, or “ lion’s
mouth.” After a course of about 858 miles, through regions
for the most part wholly unexplored by Europeans, the
river reaches, in Lat. 33. 54., Long. 88. 48., the foit and
small town of Atak, a word which signifies “ stop,” the
Hindus believing that the sovereignty of their princes
ought to extend thus far, and no farther. The name of Atak
is applied to the river from the town so-called to Kalabagh,
in Lat. 32. 57., Long. 71. 35. Thence to Sakkar the stream
is called the Upper Indus, and from Sakkar to the sea the
Lower Indus; but by the natives the Daryd, “ Great river,
or “ Sea.” The breadth3 of the Indus from Atak to the
sea, in the dry season, varies from 480 to 1600 yards,
the usual width being 680. At this season the depth
averages from 9 to 15 feet in the main channel, but in the
freshes it is 24 feet. In some parts, however, the depth is
very great. Thus, between Kalabagh and Atak 186 feet
have been sounded ; and near Sehwan, also, the river is
very deep, Its rapidity during the freshes is 7 miles an
hour, and about 3 in the dry season, and the maximum dis¬
charge per second is in August, when the liver is at its
height, 446,080 cubic feet, and in December 40,857. The
fall per mile is from Atak to Kalabagh, 20 inches, thence
to Mithan 8 inches, and thence to the sea 6. The tern*
perature of the water during July and August is no less
than 88°, or only 7° less than that of the air in those
months. ’ The Indus is easily navigable as far as Dera
Isma’il Khan, in N. Lat. 31. 50., above which there are
1 Bombay Selected Records, No. xvii. of 1855, p. 43.
2 The name “ Young Egypt” has been applied to it, and is even used in
3 Bombay Selected Records, No. xviii., 1855, p. 545. .
the titles of books of travels in Sindh.
304 - . SINDH.
Sindh great difficulties, though boats may ascend even to Makkad the stalks being sometimes 20 feet in length.5 Cotton of a Sinih.
v ^ ) jn at all’seasons. Hence to Atak the upward na- very superior kind is grown in Chanduka,0 as also sugar, in-
vio-ation is altogether restricted to the months when the digo, and tobacco; but, according to Thornton, experiments
river is low, and^the current without force. made in the cultivation of American cotton and Mauritius
Climate. The climate of Sindh is remarkable for excessive heat cane, have been unsuccessful. Wool forms one of the
and dryness. Lord1 gives 98° 5' as the mean maximum of chief exports from Sindh, but is brought chiefly from the
temperature in the shade at Haidarabad during the six hot- country beyond the Hala Hills, subject to the Khan of
test months. At Sakkar it is much hotter, and between Kalat. The pearl oyster has been found of late years in
Shikarpur and Bagh hotter still, the thermometer some- Karachi harbour, and at the Piltl mouth of the Indus;
times rising to 120° in a good tent. The monsoon reaches but the pearls are extremely small, and, from their bad
no farther than the north-western frontier of Kachh, and shape and colour, of little value even for seed-pearl.
Sindh is never visited by the refreshing periodical rains The embroideries of Sindh are renowned, and the fabri- Manufac-
that cool other parts of India. At Karachi the annual fall cants of silk tissues at Haidarabad gained medals both at the tures-
of rain does not exceed 8 inches ; at Haidarabad it aver- Great Exhibition of 1851 and at that of Paris. Enameling,
ao-es about 3 inches; while in Upper Sindh a shower is of seal-engraving, lacquered work, and the making of coloured
very rare occurrence. Thus Hamilton records that, at the tiles, are all carried to great perfection in Sindh, especially at
period of his visit in 1699, the Larkhanah districts had been Thattha and Haidarabad. The manufacture of arms was
three years without rain. On the other hand, there was a very flourishing under the Amirs, but is now fast declining,
remarkable fall of rain at Haidarabad in 1839, and on the The wild animals of Sindh are far less numerous than Zoology.
15th of July in that year, the day the Amirs signed the those of India. Tigers are not uncommon in the jungles
new treaty with the British,2 many houses and part of the to the north of Sakkar, and in the opposite district of Bur-
city-wall fell in consequence of the heavy rain, which con- dika, but seldom wander southwards. Lieutenant James,
tinued at intervals for four days. The prevailing winds however, speaks of having seen two in Chanduka, in 1846,
from April to September are from the south, and from and the one at the shrine of Lai Shah Baz, at Sehwan, was
the north during the rest of the year. An east wind probably captured in that neighbourhood. In the forests
seldom lasts twelve hours. A kind of samum, or hot near the Indus, wliich were formerly the hunting preserves
wind of the desert, is occasionally felt, and brings with it of the Amirs, wild-hog and hog-deer abound. The ante-
clouds of sand, that obscure the light of day. Notwith- lope is found farther from the river, and the ibex in the
standing the great heat, Upper Sindh is tolerably healthy, hills to the west. Wolves, foxes, jackals, and hares are
and though the climate is not well suited for Europeans, the common. The wild-ass, said in former years to have been
natives, especially the Biluchls, attain to great ages. Thus met with in the desert beyond Rojan, is probably now
Mir Sohrab, the father of Mir Rustam, was a vigorous man extinct. In the sand-hills east of Rohr! and Khairpur, por-
when, at the age of a hundred years, he was killed by a fall cupines are plentiful. Amongst domestic animals the
from a high terrace; and Mir Rustam himself was approach- buffalo and camel take the first place. The latter animal
ing ninety when he died. In Lower Sindh there is much is reared in great numbers in the delta of the Indus, and is
malaria, and fever is rife in September and October, thought to be of an uncommonly hardy kind. The dro-
Cholera, too, sometimes commits great ravages, especially medary, however, is brought from the Brahul country, or
at the otherwise healthy station of Karachi. from Rajputuna. The horses, asses,7 and cows are all much
Soil and The soil of the delta is a light, loose clay, mixed with smaller than those of India. Of birds, the most remarkable
cultivation, sand,3 and except in cultivated spots, this is covered with a species are the pelican, various kinds of falcons, and the
low tamarisk jungle. Near the river there are patches of a £7£ara4, or bustard. The black and the grey partridge,
richer soil deposited by the waters, and this is the case quail, snipe, and wild-duck, are most numerous. The Indus
alon<>- the whole course of the Indus. Eastward of Khair- abounds with fish, the most valuable kind being the palla,
pur,°and west of Shikarpur, there are sandy deserts wholly which resembles the salmon in appearance and flavour, and
devoid of water, and differing only in that there are forms the chief food of a large part of the population of
ranges of sand-hills in the former direction, and a perfectly Sindh. The bolan, or river porpoise, is occasionally seen ;
dead-level to the west. With regard to cultivation, it has it weighs upwards of two cwt., and has a projecting snout,
been justly remarked,4 that “whatever is cultivated in armed with formidable teeth. The alligator is less common
Egypt, in Arabia, and in the countries bordering the Persian in the Indus than in the Ganges, but grows, perhaps, to a
Gulf, may be grown with success in Sindh.” There are larger size. It is scarcely ever found to be dangerous to
two crops in the year—the vernal, sown from August to man. Among the reptiles may be mentioned the iguana,
November, and the autumnal, sown from May to the end the river tortoise, and several kinds of snakes. Scorpions
of July. The former is brought forward by the heavy and centipedes are not common, but the plague of insects
dews and cool nights of the winter, and is reaped in March has called forth the anathemas of all travellers in Sindh,
and April; while&the latter, reaped in December, is wholly In the districts near the Manchar Lake the people sleep on
dependent on the inundation, which prevails from June to platforms raised upon tall pieces of timber,8 to escape the
Natural September. Rice, wheat, barley, jawdri, or Indian mil- tormenting attacks of the musquitoes and sandflies. These
produce, let, bdjri or zea mays, Bengal grain, vetches, safflowers are insects are literally innumerable, and most venomous. In
the principal crops. Rice is grown very abundantly in.Sindh, no country is the white ant more destructive ; and instances
and is of good quality, and Panicum spicalum, arzam, or have occurred of the roofs of buildings falling in, the beams
Panicum pilosum, barley, sesamum, and various kinds of being completely hollowed out by these pests. Thus, in
vetches, pulse, and millet, all yield good crops. Oats, too, 1840, the roof of the post-office at Shikarpur fell suddenly
have been found to thrive admirably; but it is for its Jawdri, without any warning, but fortunately when the rooms were
or Holcus sorgum, that Sindh is especially famous. In the empty of people, the only person injured being the sentry
districts near Shikarpur, tracts of miles in extent may be who was standing at the door.
seen covered with a waving forest of this grain, in which Under the Amirs, Sindh was divided into three princi-
even camels and their riders would be utterly lost to sight, palities, Khairpur or Upper Sindh, Haidarabad, and Mxr-
1 Med. Memoir, p. 12. 2 Murray’s Handbook for Bombay, p. 468. 3 Bombay Selected Records, No. xvii. of 1855, p. 197.
4 Ibid., p. 591. 6 Dry Leaves from Young Egypt, p. 138. 6 Bom. Sel., No. xvii., 1855, p. 720.
7 Dr Heddle, however, in his Memoirs of May 1836, speaks of the mules and asses of Sindh as of unusual size and value.
8 Dry Leaves from Young Egypt, p. 32.
SINDH.
305
Sindh.
Territorial
divisions.
Revenue
ind popu¬
lation.
Principal
towns.
Shikarpur,
Larkhanah,
Sakkar.
Rohrf.
Khairpur.
pur, which two latter were comprised in Lower Sindh.
Under the British Government, the country has been ap¬
portioned into three chief collectorates, Shikarpur, or Upper
Sindh, Haidarabad, and Karachi. These again are sub¬
divided, Karachi into 12 taluks, and Haidarabad into 13,
of which 5 are in the deputy-collectorate of Mirpur, and 3
in that of Hala. Under the collectorate of Shikarpur are
the frontier districts of Kachhi, rendered famous by the
inroads of the robber Biluchis, and the entire subjugation
of those tribes by General Jacob, who built and garrisoned
the town of Jacobabad, in the centre of the country once
held by the plundering Dumkis and Jakranis. These dis¬
tricts are bounded by a waving line drawn from Khairi
Garhi, in Lat. 28. 8., Long. 67. 58., to Eojan, in Lat. 28.
20., Long. 68. 20., and thence eastward, to the north of
Khairi, in Lat. 28. 35., Long. 69. 40. The area of the Shik¬
arpur collectorate, including 5412 square miles of territory
resumed from Mir Ali Murad, comprises 11,532 square miles;[
that of the Haidarabad and Karachi collectorates, 30,000
and 16,000 square miles respectively. Mir Ali Murad’s
territory is not included in the above estimates, and has an
area of 5000 square miles, with a population of 105,000.
The revenue of Sindh,for the year 1855-56, is thus given:
—Shikarpur C., 1,127,641 rupees; Ali Murad’s territory,
295,500 rs.; Haidarabad, 996,036 rs.; Karachi, 534,375 rs.
The first-named collectorate has a population of 693,259.
Haidarabad has 703,296 inhabitants, and Karachi 372,182.
The principal towns are Shikarpur, Larkhanah, Sakkar,
Rohri, and Khairpur, in Upper Sindh; and Haidarabad,
Thattha, and Karachi, in Lower Sindh.
Shikarpur, in Lat. 28., Long. 68. 39., was founded by the
Daudputras in 1617, and now contains about 30,000 in¬
habitants. It is a mart of some importance, and much of
the trade between India and Khurasan passes through it.
The bazar extends about 800 yards through the centre.
There are no edifices worth notice, and masses of ruins
encumber the suburbs, and even the best streets in the
town itself. Larkhanah, in Lat. 27. 30., Long. 68.10., has a
population of 12,000, and is one of the principal grain-marts
in Sindh. It is rudely fortified, and has a citadel at the
western end. The surrounding country is thought to be
one of the richest tracts in Sindh. Sakkar, in Lat. 27.40.,
Long. 68. 54., is a town, once flourishing and populous, on
the western bank of the Indus, opposite Rohri. It was
taken and destroyed about the year 1800, by Mir Rustam.
In 1839 it became the site of a British cantonment, when
many of the ruined edifices were cleared away, and a few
rebuilt or repaired. The most remarkable edifices remain¬
ing are—the tomb of a Mughul princess, on a hill directly
above the Presidency, and a tower 100 feet high, erected
to the memory of Muhammad M’asum, a celebrated noble¬
man of the Delhi court, who flourished during the early
part of the seventeenth century, a.d. Rohri, or Rori, in
Lat. 27.38., Long. 68. 55., is situated on the eastern bank of
the Indus, exactly opposite Sakkar; the island of Bakkar,
on which is an ancient fort, being between them, and in
mid-stream. Rori has a population of 8000 inhabitants.
In it are some curious buildings, worthy of inspection.
The chief mosque was built during the time of Akbar, who
conquered Sindh in 157,2. An inscription of some length
sets forth that the founder was Path Khan. There is also
a shrine where a hair from the prophet’s head is preserved
in a jewelled case. This building is about 300 years old,
and seems to have been built by one ’Abu’l Baki, who
came to Sindh from Constantinople.2 Khairpur is 13 miles
S. of Rori, and 15 E. of the Indus. It has a population of
15,000 souls, and under the Amirs was the seat of the
government of Upper Sindh. There is nothing remarkable
about it. Haidarabad is entitled to be considered the Sindh,
capital]of Sindh, as it w*as of the Amirs, the principal
branch of the Talpur family ruling there. It is situated Haidar-
in Lat. 25.22., Long. 68. 28., and 4 miles E. of the eastern abad.
bank of the Indus, on a rocky ridge called the Ganjah
Hills. The fort is about three-fourths of a mile in circum¬
ference, and was built or repaired by Path Khan Talpur.
Beyond the market-place are the tombs of the Talpurs,
and of the family that preceded them, that of Ghulam
Shah Kalhora being the most beautiful of all. Haidarabad
contains about 30,000 inhabitants. It is famous for its
embroideries, enameling, lacquered work, and seal-engrav¬
ing. Thattha, vulgarly called Tatta, in Lat. 24.44., Long. Thattha.
68., is an ancient city, now greatly fallen to decay. It is
probably not less than a thousand years since it was
founded. In 1555 it was pillaged and partly burned by
the Portuguese ; but in 1699 Alexander Hamilton describes
it as a great and populous city. The ruins of noble edifices
are to be traced for miles around. Of those that remain
the most remarkable are—the Grand Mosque of Shah Ja-
han, begun in 1647 and finished by Aurangzeb in 1661;
the T’dgah of Yusuf Khan, Governor of Sindh, built in
1633 ; the mosque of Tughral, and some others. Thattha
now contains about 10,000 inhabitants. Karachi, the sea- Karachi,
port of Sindh, has grown up to importance under British
rule. It is situated in Lat. 24.51., Long. 67.2., and being
the only place of safety for vessels on the coast, the whole
commerce of the Indus passes through it. The population
has risen from 13,000 persons in 1813,3 to nearly 25,000.
The harbour is being improved at a vast outlay, and though
the bar is a great obstacle to the trade of the place, there
being but 16 feet water upon it at high tide, it is hoped
that even this difficulty will be overcome, partly by dredg¬
ing and partly by directing the full sweep of the ebb¬
tide upon it. The town is 3 miles from the landing-place
at low-water, but a good communication has been made,
by a mole and road, which cost upwards of L.30,000. The
total trade of the place is now valued at about two millions
sterling. The chief exports are wool, vegetable oils, and
sugar, indigo and cotton, from the Panjab. The place was
annexed by the Governor-General, on receiving the report
of Admiral Maitland, who, on the 5th of February 1839,
with the fire of the Wellesley, 74, battered down Manora
Fort, from which no resistance was made—the garrison,
indeed, consisting only of four or five men.
The population of Sindh is given at 1,873,737. The Races,
majority of these are Jats, or Sindhis, properly so called,
numbers of whom are Muhammadans of the Hanifah sect,
being the descendants of those who were converted from
Hinduism after the conquest of Sindh by Muhammad bin
Kasim, and in subsequent centuries. The general propor¬
tion of Hindus to the Muslims is about 1 to 4. Thus, the
Hindu census exhibits a total of 363,295, and that of Mus¬
lims 1,354,891, but this latter is no doubt understated as
regards females. There are, besides, 50,551 persons of
other sects. The Sindhis are a tall, muscular race, but,
according to Burton, “ idle, apathetic, notoriously cowardly
and dishonourable, addicted to intoxication, unclean and
immoral in the extreme.” Their language is a peculiar
dialect, compounded of Sanskrit and Arabic words, with a
grammatical structure—Sanskrit, as regards the nouns;
and as to the verb, formed upon the Persian model. The
character is a most corrupt Devanagari, quite unreadable
to the natives of India, and possessing the peculiarity of
exhibiting no medial vowels. The same authority divides
the Muslim population into, besides Sindhis, Saiyids, Af¬
ghans, Biluchis, Africans, Memons, and Khwajahs. The
Saiyids are often Sh’iahs, and belong chiefly to four great
1 According to another authority, 13,679 square miles.
3 Pottinger’s Travels, p. 344.
VOL. XX.
3 Dry Leaves from Young Egypt, p. 46.
2Q
306 SIN
Singapore, families, the Bakhari, Mathari, Shirazi, and Lekhirayi.
/ The Afghans are found chiefly about Haidarabad and
Shikarpur. They are a finer and fairer race than the Sin-
dhis. The same must be said of the Biluchis, who are
men of great size and strength. They are of such vigorous
constitutions as to live to great ages, even under the un¬
paralleled heat of Upper Sindh. Thus, Turk ’AH Jakranl,
who headed an insurrection against the British in 1844,
was then ninety<*years old, and in 1854 was still living and
in robust health. The Biluchi language is little known,
but appears to be an Ugrian dialect, with abundance of
Persian words incorporated. The chief Biluch tribes
are—the Bugti, Chang, Jakrani, Jatoi, Khosa, Laghari,
Marl, Magsl, Mazari, Nizamam, Nothani, Rind, and
Talpur. The Memons were originally Hindus, who en¬
tered Sindh during the Kalhora rule from Each. They
became converts to Islam. The Khwajahs are Persians by
descent, of the Ism’ailiyah sect. The present Hindu race
in Sindh is chiefly of Panjabi origin. There are two
orders of Brahmans, and no out-castes. The rest are
Vaisyas, of whom those who served the native government
adopted Muslim costume. Some of the women are re¬
markably beautiful.
History. The Rig-Veda mentions the Indus, and in such a man¬
ner as to leave no doubt that the Aryan nation was then
settled on its banks. Sindh, therefore, 1400 years before
the Christian era, was occupied by the people who had, in
the time of Alexander the Great, extended their conquests
to the mouth of the Ganges. Earthquakes, however, as
attested by the buried city of Brahmanabad, and the natu¬
ral dyke thrown across the Indus, called the Allah band,
and the inundations of the river, have so altered Sindh
that the course of Alexander can no longer be traced.
Fx-om his time, 326 B.C., to 711 A.D., nothing is known of
the history of Sindh. In that year the Khalifah and son of
Abdu’l Malik, according to the Masum Namah, sent an
army to invade Sindh. It was commanded by Muhammad
bin Kasim, who soon captured Nirankotand Alor, and sub¬
dued the whole country. From that time till 1026, A.D.,
the governors of the Khalifs governed with greater or less
success in Sindh ; but in the latter year, ’Abdu ’r Raza,
general of the Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni, conquered the
province. The dynasties of Ghazni and Ghuri continued
to hold Sindh until the end of the eleventh century. The
Sumna tribe then rose to power, and seem to have ruled
in Sindh till 1340, when they were succeeded by the
Sammao, another native tribe. These were overthrown in
1541 by Shah Beg Arghun, who had been driven from
Kandahar by Babar. In 1590 Akbar conquered Sindh,
which continued under the Mughul emperors ot Delhi till
1736, when the Kalhoras made themselves independent of
Delhi, though they acknowledged fealty to the Afghan
kings of Kabul. The detestable cruelty of one of this race,
named Ghulam Nabi, caused the Talpurs, under Path
AH Khan, to revolt, and the sceptre now passed into their
hands. In 1813 they entirely threw olf all dependence on
Kabul, whence the Saddozye family had been expelled by
that which now rules there. Their sway continued until
the conquest of Sindh by the British, on the 24th of March
1843. Of that conquest difl'erent accounts are given;
some writers arguing, with Sir W. and Sir C. Napier, that
the Amirs were rightly dethroned ; and others, with Sir J.
Outram, that the attack upon them was unjust and inde¬
fensible. The weight of evidence, however, is in favour of
the latter view; and it seems now decided, that the treachery
of one of the Amirs, aided by the ignorance of the language
and customs of the country, which led the British general
to decide against the Amirs on insufficient grounds, was
the real cause of their downfall. (e. b. e.)
SINGAPORE, a British settlement in India beyond
the Ganges, consisting principally of a small island lying off
S I N
the southern extremity of the Malay peninsula, but includ- Singapore,
ing about fifty islets to the south and west, within the dis-
tance of 10 miles. The whole territory subject to the
British has a circuit of about 100 miles, and lies between
N. Eat. 1. 8. and 1. 32., E. Long. 103. 30. and 104. 10.
The island of Singapore is about 25 miles long by 15 broad ;
and its area is estimated at 275 square miles. It occupies
about half the space between the two capes Buru and Ra-
munia, in which the Malay peninsula terminates towards
the south, and is separated from it by a strait called Salat
Tabrao, about 40 miles long, and fi-om a quarter of a mile to 2
miles broad. This was formerly the chief channel of navi¬
gation to the Chinese seas ; but vessels now generally pass
through the Strait of Singapore to the south of the island.
The surface is undulating, rising in some places into low
rounded hills. None of these exceed 400 feet in height;
and the most of them are only about 100 feet above the sea.
The highest peak is one called Bukit Tema, to the north¬
west of the town. The shores of the island ai-e for the most
part low, but in some places along the Salat Tabrao they
are rock-bound. Several arms of the sea stretch into the
land from three to six miles. Singapore has no lakes or
rivers, but is watered by numerous small streams. The
water of these, however, is very bad, being dark in colour,
and disagreeable to the taste and smell; but, by sinking
wells to some depth, water of a better quality is obtained.
The geological structure of the greater part of the island
consists of ironstone, resting upon a red sandstone, varied
with a conglomei'ate containing large fragments and crystals
of quartz; but towards the north and east granite is the
prevalent formation. Iron ore is the only metal found here,
but it is very abundant. Tin, wdxich is so plentiful in the
neighbouring regions, has not hitherto been found in Singa¬
pore. Besides granite and sandstone, a stiff kind of clay is
obtained, useful for making pottery. Though exceedingly
hot, the climate is remarkable for its salubrity. It is very
equable, the annual range of the tempei'ature being only
from 73° to 85°. The atmosphere is uniformly serene, and
the placid face of the ocean is only disturbed by the swell
produced by distant tempests in the Chinese Sea or Bay of •
Bengal. Instead of the monsoons and typhoons of other
eastern lands, there are here only Varying land and sea
breezes ; and instead of a periodical rainy season, there are
almost daily showers, which pi'eserve the freshness and ver¬
dure of the island throughout the year. Many invalids re¬
sort to Singapore to get rid of the bad effects of the sultry
climate of Hindostan. The soil is in general good, being
composed of sand and clay, mixed with vegetable deposits,
which give it a dark appearance. In many places there are
extensive swamps. Except the comparatively small portion
which has been cleared, the island is covered with that
thick forest or jungle which occupied its whole extent be¬
fore the settlement here of the British, and extended, with
its luxuriant foliage, to the very edge of the water. Some
of the trees furnish valuable timber for building purposes.
Where the ground has been cleared all kinds of spices find
a congenial soil; but of these only nutmegs, cloves, ginger,
and pepper are raised. Indeed, with all its advantages of
soil and climate, Singapore cannot be said to be a good
agricultural country. The soil was ,at first considered un¬
favourable for culture; but considerable success has attended
the labours of the Chinese settlers in raising various kinds
of fruit and vegetables. The sugar-cane is also cultivated
successfully here. Most of the domestic animals of Europe
have been introduced, but not in very great numbers, as
the pastures of Singapore are not extensive. Of wild beasts
the most formidable is the tiger, which commits serious de¬
predations. Deer, wild-hogs, sloths, monkeys, bats, squir¬
rels, and various other animals, are denizens of the woods
of Singapore. The chief species of birds are the partridge,
pheasant, falcon, owl, parrot, heron, pelican, woodpecker,
S I N
Singapore, and various others. Turtles, tortoises, crocodiles, and ser-
pents among the reptiles; and soles, mullets, rays, and sharks
among the fish, abound here. The manufactures are few
and insignificant, being carried on chiefly by the Chinese;
and the prosperity of the colony depends chiefly on its com¬
merce. The most valuable productions of this country are
the gutta-percha, which comes from the islands in the vici¬
nity of Singapore, and a delicate sea-weed, called agaragar,
which is used by the Chinese for making a kind of glue and
varnish. The population of the settlement is very mixed ;
comprising Europeans, Indo-Britons, Portuguese, Arme¬
nians, Arabs, Jews, Hindoos, Malays, and Chinese. More
than half of the people are Chinese; and they, along with
the Europeans, who are few in number, compose the
wealthier classes. The population, in 1852, was estimated
at 59,043. The capital, and indeed the only town in the
colony, is Singapore, which stands on the south coast. It
occupies a narrow strip of low ground along the coast, about
2 miles long, but only 1000 yards broad, and enclosed by
hills, rising to the height of 100 or 150 feet. The rivulets,
Singapore and Rochor, divide it into three parts, connected
with each other by bridges. The central of these parts is
occupied by tbe Europeans, the eastern by the Malays, and
the western by the Chinese. In the European quarter,
which is much the best, stand all the principal buildings.
These are the government-house, public offices, court¬
house, jail, custom-house, missionary and Armenian churches,
several schools, and the Singapore Institution for instruction
in English, Malay, and Tamil. This establishment was
founded in 1823 by Sir Stamford Raffles; but is now ill
supported, and falling into decay. The streets in this
quarter are regularly laid out; and the houses are built
either of brick or wood, and roofed with tiles. Many of
the British merchants reside on the shore to the east of the
town, and their large substantial dwellings contrast strikingly
with the wretched habitations of the Malays not far off.
The Chinese town consists chiefly of bamboo huts, in many
cases raised on posts above the swampy ground. This is
the most commercial part of the town; and it is also among
the Chinese that the ordinary trades and manufactures are
carried on. There are commodious quays; and good an¬
chorage may be obtained in the roads from one to two miles
from the town. The ships which lie there are laden and
unladen by means of lighters. In a commercial point of
view the importance of Singapore is great, and rapidly
increasing. It is the principal station for steamers in the
Indian seas ; and there is now an active navigation between
Singapore and Cochin-China, as well as between it and
Borneo, Celebes, and the other East Indian islands. The
recent treaty between Britain and Siam has also promoted
the commerce between Singapore and that country. The
number of vessels that entered the harbour in 1856 was
976; of those that cleared, 1042. In the same year the
total value of the imports amounted to L.4,877,091, and
that of the exports to L.4,301,386; while in the previous
year the imports had been valued at L.4,430,770, and the
exports at L.3,646,740. The trade may be divided into
the Eastern, that of the Straits, and the Western trade.
Of the first, the principal branches are those with China,
Java, and Siam. The trade with China is carried on in
junks, which leave the ports of that country in January, by
the N.E. monsoon, and are wafted back again by the con¬
trary wind, which prevails from April till October. I he
voyage from Canton takes from ten to twenty days. 1 hey
bring tea, camphor, nankeen, in exchange for pepper,
opium, tin, edible birds’ nests, &c. From Java, Celebes,
and Borneo, there are brought coffee, rice, gold-dust, birds’
nests, &c.; and there are exported to these islands cotton,
hardware, nankeen, opium, &c. The imports from Siam
are sugar, gamboge, hardware, cocoa-nut oil, rice, salt, &c.;
and the exports, bees-wax, cotton twist, raw silk, and specie.
SIN 307
All the eastern trade is in the hands of the Chinese and the Singing
Bugis. The commerce of the Straits comprises the impor- H
tation of pepper, salt, tin, &c., from the Malay peninsula; v SinoPe- ^
and bees wax, betel-nuts, coffee, sago, &c., from the Dutch
settlements in Sumatra. The Western trade comprises
that with Calcutta, Bombay, Madras, Ceylon, the Cape of
Good Hope, Europe, and America; its most active branches
being those with Calcutta and Great Britain. Antimony,
tin, gold-dust, coffee, sugar, silk, ivory, gutta-percha, and
other articles, are exported in exchange for woollen and
cotton cloth, hardware, arms, gunpowder, and a variety of
manufactured articles. Thus the trade of Singapore de¬
pends, not on the productions of the place itself, which are
very limited, but on its being the great emporium for all
the commerce of South-Eastern Asia, on its being, as it has
been styled, the Liverpool of the East. And this position
it owes, in a great degree, to its being a free port to all
nations, burdened with no import or export duties, nor
anchorage, harbour, or light-house fees. The settlement
of Singapore is under the governor of the Eastern settle¬
ments, who generally resides at Penang, and is subject to
the authorities of the Bengal presidency. He is assisted
at Singapore by a council. The island was purchased from
the Sultan of Johore by the British in 1819. Its history
contains no event of any importance.
SINGING, in a general sense, means the production of
appreciable and varied sounds by the voice. In a more
limited sense, it means different inflexions of the voice
through intervals admitted in music, and consistent with the
rules of melodic modulation. It is well known that these
inflexions differ from those of the voice in speaking. In
singing, harshness of vocal timbre (see Music), and false¬
ness of intonation, are much more frequently met with than
the opposite qualities, especially among persons not trained
to sing. Musical training, when applied to a person pos¬
sessed of a naturally good quality of voice, and a good ear,
produces effects that can hardly be imagined by those who
have not watched them attentively. Upon the subject of
vocal-training, the reader may consult any of the best trea¬
tises on singing. For some remarks on the mechanism of
the human voice in singing, and the compasses of voices,
see Music. (g' f* g*)
SINIGAGLIA, a town of the Papal States, in the lega¬
tion of Urbino, at the mouth of the Misa, in the Adiiatic,
16 miles W.N.W. of Ancona. It is regularly, but not very
strongly, fortified, with ramparts, bastions, and a citadel.
The buildings, which are almost all modern, are generally
good, and the streets broad, straight, and regular. There
are a cathedral in the Corinthian style, in the form of a
Greek cross, several convents, a mint, a theatre, and a small
harbour. Sinigaglia is celebrated for its annual fair, in the
end of July and beginning of August. This has been
established for several centuries, and attracts great crowds
from all parts of Italy. The town occupies the site of the
ancient Sena, surnamed Gallica, to distinguish it from the
place of the same name, now Siena, in Etruria. It is in¬
famous in history for the treacherous murder, in lo02, by
Caesar Borgia, of several chiefs who wTere in alliance with
him. Pop. 9000.
SINISTER. See Heraldry.
SINNA, Senna, or Sinendrij, a town of Persia, in the
province of Irak-Ajemi, 285 miles W.S.W. of Teheran. It
has a somewhat imposing appearance on account of a palace
standing on a hill, and surrounded by several other substan¬
tial houses. In the vicinity there are extensive public gar¬
dens. The town contains from 4000 to 5000 families. ^
SINOPE, a seaport of Asiatic Turkey, in the pashalic
of Anatolia, on the shore of the Black Sea, 75 miles W.N.W.
of Samsoun. It stands on a neck of land, connecting with
the mainland a steep rocky peninsula, called Cape Sinope,
which forms on its south-east side one of the best harbours
308 SIN
Sinuessa on the north coast of Asia-Minor. The town is defended
II by walls and batteries; but these have been nearly ruined
Siphanto. by tbe Russian bombardment. There is here a ship-build-
ing yard, some fishery, and a considerable trade in timber,
wax, silk, &c. Sinope is a station for the steamers between
Constantinople and Trebizond. It is built for the most
part out of the ruins of the old Greek city of the same
name, which occupied the same site. It was a colony
from Miletus, doubly so; for after the original settlers had
been dispossessed by the Cimmerians, a second company
was sent out, who recovered the town, in 632 B.c. Soon
after its second colonization, Sinope rose to great power and
wealth. It continued independent until, towards the end
of the third century, its wealth and prosperity excited the
cupidity of the kings of Pontus. Mithridates IV. assailed
it unsuccessfully in 220, but his successor, Pharnaces, made
himself master of the town in 183 B.c. From this time
Sinope was the capital of the kings of Pontus, and was much
embellished and strengthened by Mithridates the Great.
The Romans conquered the town under Lucullus; and it
was made a colony by Julius Caesar. No other important
historical event in ancient times is connected with the name
of Sinope; but it has recently become notorious for the
destruction of the Turkish fleet, and bombardment of the
town, by the Russians, November 30, 1853, an act which
precipitated the outbreak of war between this country and
Russia. Pop. 12,000.
SINUESSA, an ancient town of Italy, on the shore of
the Mediterranean, near the confines of Latium and Cam¬
pania. There does not seem to have been any town here be¬
fore the time when the Romans established a colony. This
took place in the year 296 b.c., the object of the settlement
being to prevent the Samnites from making hostile incur¬
sions from their mountain fastnesses in the interior down
to the rich plains along the coast. Standing as it did on
the Appian road, the great means of communication be¬
tween Rome and the south, Sinuessa rapidly rose to consi¬
derable importance ; but it suffered much during the inva¬
sion of Hannibal, who, in 217, carried his devastations up
to the very gates. The country about Sinuessa was very
fertile; and the Massic Hill, so celebrated for its wines,
rose in the immediate vicinity. Sinuessa had thermal
springs, which were much resorted to ; but it never attained
such a fame as Raise and the other fashionable watering-
places in the Bay of Naples. Some ancient ruins still mark
the site of the town.
SIOUT, or Asyoot, the capital of Upper Egypt. See
Egypt.
SIPHANTO, or Sipeno (anc. Siphnos), an island in
the JEgean Sea, belonging to Greece, lying between N.
Lat. 36. 50. and 37. 10.; E. Long. 25. 10. ; to the S.E.
of Serpho and N.E. of Milo. It is oblong in shape, and
about 30 miles in circuit. A chain of mountains traverses
the island from N.W. to S.E., the highest point of which,
3000 feet above the sea, is crowned with the small monas¬
tery of St Elias. On the eastern slope of these hills there
is a plateau, about 1000 feet high, on which stand most of
the villages of the island. Siphanto was anciently cele¬
brated for its rich gold and silver mines; but these have
long since been exhausted. The land is now chiefly laid
out in vineyards, and supports a few horses, cattle, and
sheep. The soil is fertile, and the climate salubrious.
Many of the productions form articles of exportation from
the island ; such as corn, figs, honey, wax, sesame, silk, and
cotton. The only considerable towns are Castro, the
capital, and Stauri, both on the east side of the hills. At
the south-east extremity of the island is a harbour, called
Pharos, with a lighthouse. Siphnos was colonized by lonians
from Athens; and from its valuable mines it became one
of the richest islands in the Archipelago. The inhabitants
fought on the side of the Greeks at Salamis; and afterwards
SIR
submitted to the Athenian supremacy. They were cele- Sipontum
brated in ancient times for the manufacture of pottery. ||
Pop. 7000. Sirens-
SIPONTUM, or Sipus, an ancient town of Italy, in
Apulia, on the shore of the Adriatic, south of the moun¬
tain and promontory of Garganus. Its origin is ascribed
by tradition to Diomede; but nothing is known of its real
founders, and the earliest historical notice we have of it is,
that it was captured about 330 B.c., by Alexander of Epirus.
How it came into the power of the Romans, we are also
ignorant; but a colony was established here in 194. It
was deserted shortly after, but subsequently restored by a
fresh body of colonists. Under the Romans, Sipontum
seems to have been a flourishing town, governed by its own
municipal authorities, possessing a good harbour, and a
considerable trade in corn. The marshes in the vicinity
must always have been very unhealthy; and these caused
the decay of the place in the middle ages, and finally in¬
duced Manfred, king of Naples, in 1250, to remove the
inhabitants to the new city of Manfredonia, not far off.
SIR, the title of a knight or baronet, which, for distinc¬
tion’s sake, is always prefixed to the knight’s or baronet’s
Christian name, either in speaking or in writing to him.
Sire was a title of honour formerly given to the king of
France as a mark of sovereignty. Sire was also anciently
used in the same sense with sieur and seigneur, and applied
to barons, gentlemen, and citizens.
SIREENNUGGUR, or Serinagur, a town of India,
in the district of British Gurwhal, North-West Provinces,
1007 miles N.W. of Calcutta. It stands on the left bank
of the Aluknunda, an affluent of the Ganges, in a valley
about four miles long and two broad, enclosed by barren
mountains. The form of the town is somewhat semi¬
circular ; the houses are generally of two storeys, built of
stones cemented with mud; and the streets are all exceed¬
ingly narrow, with the exception of one which contains the
bazaar. Altogether the place has a monotonous and gloomy
appearance. The palace of the rajah of Gurwhall must
have been at one time a very fine building, with three
fronts adorned with porticoes; but it has been so much
injured by earthquakes, that only the porticoes now remain.
The numerous Hindu temples in the town are deserving
of no special notice. Sireennuggur was at one time the
capital and residence of the rajah of Gurwhal, and carried
on a very active trade between the highlands of Tartary
and the plains of India, but it has suffered very much from
earthquakes, and has now no more than 3000 inhabitants.
SIRENS (Setp^ves), certain female mythical beings, who
were supposed to partake of the character of divinity, and
who were fabled to have the power of charming all who
heard them sing. Some make them two in number, Ag-
laopheme and Thelxiepeia; while others allude to three of
them, Peisinoe, Aglaope, and Thelxiepeia ; and others make
their names, Parthenope, Ligeia, and Leucosia. They are
referred to as daughters of Phorcus, of Acheloiis and Ste-
rope, of Terpsichore, of Melpomene, of Calliope, and of
Gaea. Their residence was alike mythical and varied as
their origin. According to Homer, tfreir island-home was
situated on the south-western coast of Italy, between Aeaea
and the rock of Scylla. Other writers allude to them as
having their proper home on Cape Pelorum, on the Island
of Anthemusa, in the Sirenusian Islands, near Paestum,
and in Capreae. Some writers connect the self-destruc¬
tion of the Sirens with the expedition of the Argonauts and
the’story of Orpheus ; others again join their suicide with
the wanderings of Ulysses. According to the former
legend, as the Argonauts sailed by them, the Sirens struck
their lyres, and drew forth from them music of exquisite
sweetness; while Orpheus sent back to them a flood of song
so deep, and strong, and ravishing, that the Sirens, feeling
their divine art had left them, flung themselves into the
SIR
irhind sea, and were metamorphosed into rocks. The Homeric
|| fable runs differently. When Ulysses steered his course close
rmour. by the shore on which the Sirens sat, these fair creatures
struck up the most melodious sounds, to lure him and his
companions within their grasp; but the good old cap¬
tain, counselled by Circe, stopped the ears of his mariners
with wax, and tied himself firm to the root of the mast,
until the ship had so far sped on her way that her crew
could no longer hear the notes of their bewitching song.
Thus balked of their prey, these singing maidens dashed
down the lyre, and leaped headlong into the sea.
The upper half of their body is always represented as a
lovely woman, while the lower part sometimes terminates
in a fish, and sometimes in a bird. They are occasionally
provided with wings, which they are represented as losing
on occasion of a contest with the Muses, into which they
had been injudiciously led by the advice of Juno. There
was a temple dedicated to the Sirens near Surrentum, and
the tomb of Parthenope was shown near the town of Nea-
polis.
SIRHIND, a large division of India, lying between N.
Lat. 29. 3. and 31. 24., E. Long. 73. 50. and 77. 39.;
bounded on the N. by the Punjab ; E. by Sirmoor and
other native states, and the British districts of Saharunpoor,
Rohtuck, and Panipat; S. by those of Rohtuck and Hur-
reeana; and W. by the state of Bahawulpore. Length,
about 220 miles from E. to W.; breadth 160 ; area, 17,000
square miles. A very small portion of the surface in the
extreme north-east is occupied by the lowest range of the
Himalayas ; but the rest of the surface consists of a uniform
plain, sloping very gradually towards the south-west, and
interrupted only by sand-hills or water-courses. The
mountains in the N.E. of Sirhind separate the Sutlej from
the Jumna, the former the chief affluent of the Indus, and
the latter of the Ganges. The whole of the region may
thus be regarded as a sort of ridge, separating these two
rivers, the one of which forms its northern and north¬
western, and the other its south-eastern boundary. The
land is also traversed by a number of smaller streams,
whose beds are all more elevated than those of the great
rivers. These streams inundate the country during the
rainy season, and tend to enhance the fertility of the soil;
but a much greater benefit is derived from a series of arti¬
ficial channels along the banks of the Jumna, in the east
of Sirhind. The country is inhabited by Sikhs, and di¬
vided among a number of chieftains, differing in the extent
of their territory and the amount of their power. Several
parts of the land have, at various times, come into the pos¬
session of the British, and now form the districts of Fero-
zepoor, Umballah, Loodiana, and Kythul. These yield an
annual revenue of L.180,000 or L.190,000.
SIRINAGUR, or Cashmere, the capital of Cashmere.
See Cashmere.
SIRIS, an ancient city of Magna Graecia, at the mouth
of the river of the same name, in the Gulf of Tarentum.
The fertility and beauty of the spot seems to have attracted
to it a body of lonians, emigrating from Colophon, to escape
the dominion of Gyges, king of Lydia, who had captured
their city. This must have taken place between 690 and
660 B.c. The city was remarkable, like the more cele¬
brated one of Sybaris on the same coast, for its prosperity
and for the luxury and effeminacy of its people. This is
nearly all we know about its history. Siris seems to have
been destroyed by a league of the neighbouring cities
against it about 550 B.c. In 480 b.c. it must have been
quite in ruins; for the Athenians thought of emigrating
thither bodily, if unsuccessful in resisting the Persians.
SIRMOUR, a native state of India, under British pro¬
tection, lying between N. Lat. 30. 25. and 31. 2., E. Long.
77. 5. and 77. 53.; bounded on the N. by Bulsun and
Joobul, E. by Deyra Dhoon, S. and W. by Sirhind. Area,
SIS 309
1075 square miles. The surface has a considerable slope Sirocco
downwards from N. to S., as there are two peaks in the 11
north of the country which attain the heights of 12,150 Sismondi.
feet and 11,689 feet respectively; while, on the southern
frontier, the confluence of the Giree with the Jumna is
only 1516 feet above the sea. In fact, Sirmour occupies
the declivity of the great Himalayan range, and the higher
of the two peaks above mentioned belongs to that chain,
and forms the centre of some subordinate ramifications.
Almost all the streams flow into the Jumna, which is here
known by the name of the Tons, and flows along the eastern
frontier. It receives here the Siree, and the smaller streams
Minusand Naeraee. Thegeological formation of the country
is various in different parts; in some places, a hard, compact
sandstone; in others, slate, limestone; and in the loftier
ridges, granite are found. The mineral treasures obtained
here are not very great, though the prevalent rocks are
usually metalliferous. Iron ore is found in abundance, and
is smelted with charcoal; a lead mine is profitably wrought,
but one of copper, formerly in operation, has been aban¬
doned. Slate is found in abundance, and can be conveyed
without much difficulty to the plains. In some parts, to¬
wards the south, the soil is deep, alluvial, and marshy, and
the climate hot and unhealthy; while the lofty peaks in the
north are covered with snow, and have a cold, dry climate.
Dense forests clothe a great part of the low land, and the
ground produces rice, cotton, tobacco, opium, ginger, &c.
In the loftier regions, wheat, barley, hemp, and other crops
are cultivated. Two annual crops are frequently raised.
There is hardly any trade ; and the roads are few and bad.
The inhabitants belong to a race allied to the Hindoos,
with some Mongolians in the N.E. of the land. Their re¬
ligion is Brahminism, mixed with local superstitions; and
the general standard of morality is very low, especially
among the women. The country is governed by a rajah, who,
like the most of his subjects, claims to be of Rajpoot origin ;
and has been since 1815 under British protection. Pop.
estimated at 75,595.
SIROCCO. See Physical Geography.
SIRONJ, a town of India, in Malwa, 213 miles S. of
Agra. It stands at the fo$t of a ghat, or descent from the
highland to the north; but on all other sides it is environed
with a rich open country. The walls which formerly sur¬
rounded it are now gone; but there are still a bazaar, two
caravanserais, and numerous mosques. The trade of the town,
which was formerly very great, has now greatly fallen off.
SISEBOLI, a seaport-town of European Turkey, Ru-
melia, on the coast of the Black Sea, 80 miles N.E. of
Adrianople. It has a large harbour, and a considerable
trade is carried on in wine and timber. The only manu¬
facture is the preparation of salt from the sea-water. Sise-
boli occupies the site of the ancient Apollonia, afterwards
called Sosopolis, whence the modern name. Pop. 8000,
mostly Greeks.
SISMONDI, Jean Charles Leonard Simonde De,
an eminent historian and political economist, was the last
of the Sismondis, an old and a noble family of Tuscany, and
was born at Geneva on the 9th of May 1773. His kindred
were staunch Ghibellines, and, on the extinction of the
republic of Pisa in the fourteenth century, they were com¬
pelled to seek refuge on this side the Alps, and accord¬
ingly took up their quarters at Dauphine in France. The
grandfather of the historian is reported to have borne arms
in the troops of France ; while his father chose to do battle
with the armies of the prince of darkness, in the character
of evangelical minister in the town of Bossex. As to his
maternal ancestry less is known. His mother was a woman
of a very superior mind, however, and, as is so often the
case with great men, she seems to have transmitted to her
son the better part of his genius. The Sismondis, at the
birth of the historian, were in comfortable circumstances,
310
Sismondi.
S I S
and occupied a country mansion, Chatelaine, near the city
of Geneva, at the confluence of the Rhone and the Arve.
Here the genius of the future annalist had the amplest
room to develop itself. Of river, lake, and mountain he
possessed one of the most fascinating vievvs in the whole
world 4dd to this the delicious charm of an enchanting
garden in which he could wander as in the primeval bowers
of paradise, and we have presented to the mind one of the
very richest spots conceivable for the earty growth of a
man of genius. But the young dreams of Sismondi were
destinedlo be rudely broken. His father, trusting to the
financial policy of his friend Necker, had placed the whole
of his moveable property in the French funds. The failure
of the banking system of France plunged the Sismondis up
to the lips in poverty. Leonardo became a clerk in a
counting-house at Lyons, and bore his change of fortune
with surprising firmness. The outbreak of the revolution,
in 1792, drove the youth from his ledgers back to Geneva.
The convulsions which shook the whole of Europe did not
pass by this ancient city of the mountain land. The Sis¬
mondis, father and son, were heavily fined and imprisoned.
On their liberation, in 1793,,they resolved to turn their
back on Switzerland till more prosperous times, and with
this intent they sailed for England. A fit of home-sickness
on the part of Sismondi’s mother, put a check upon his
inquiries into the life, literature, and manners of the English
people. Returning again to Chatelaine, the father and son
were again compelled to submit to a grievous incarceration.
M. Cafla, one of the most intimate friends of the family, had
sought shelter in their house, and was subsequently dragged
from under their root to instant death. Unable to beat the
horrid burden of existence, as it was then experienced in
France, the Sismondis resolved to move to their ancestral
country, and settled in Tuscany in 1795. The young his¬
torian purchased a small estate at Val Ghiusa, near 1 escia,
whither he removed the rest of his family. He set to work
with determined resolution to improve the condition of
agriculture, and, if possible, to free the inhabitants of his
country from the galling yoke to which they weie then
nationally subjected. He spent five years of incessant
labour upon his farm and upon his books. Under the mild
skies of Italy he began the stud? of history, and he resolved
to dedicate his first efforts to a delineation of the glory and
a representation of the disgrace of the Italian republics. In
the meanwhile he entertained certain opinions, which cannot
be designated as other than crude, vacillating, and hypothe¬
tical on political economy, which he resolved to give to the
world. He returned to Geneva in 1801, and published his
Tableau de VAgriculture de la Toscane in 1801, which was
succeeded by De la Richesse Commerciale in 1803. His¬
tory, however, was his forte, and he devoted himself to it
with untiring zeal to the end of his life. In 180/ appealed
the first volume of his Histoire des Republiques Italiennes,
and he completed the sixteen volumes in 1818. Duiing
the composition of this work he had much intercourse
with the literary society which then flocked to Geneva from
the adjoining country of France. Ihe most distinguished
of these exiles were Necker the financier, his daughtei
Madame de Stael, and Benjamin Constant. Sismondi had
been appointed secretary to the Chamber of Commerce of
the department of Leman, which then formed pait of
France. In 1810, after his father’s death, Sismondi de¬
livered in his native city a course of lectures Ora the Lite¬
rature of the South of Europe, which were published in
1813, and which have since been rendered into English by
T. Roscoe. This work is written in a luminous, free, in¬
dependent style, and is very valuable wherever the author
touches on Italian literature. With the literature of Spain
and Portugal he had only a second-hand acquaintance, and
of course no force of intelligence could make his book any¬
thing more than a second-hand estimate of the genius and
SIT
influence of the writers of the countries of Cervantes and of Siste,
Camoens. This same year, 1813, marked his first visit to Ilf
the French capital. During his residence in Paris he Sitti
made the acquaintance of young Guizot, and attracted the /“U1
notice of Napoleon by his "brilliant articles in the Moniteur ^ J
on the counter-revolution. In 1819 he visited England,
and took home with him to Geneva a sister-in-law of Sir
James Mackintosh, by his second marriage. Having re¬
moved his English bride to Chenes, near Geneva, he pro¬
secuted his Histoire des Francais, and completed all it*was
his lot to finish of it in twenty years after its first appear¬
ance, 1821-42, 29 vols. In 1822 he wrote a heavy his¬
torical novel, called Julia Severa, or the Year 492, in which
he endeavoured to depict the fall of the Roman empire. He
was shortly after elected a member of the legislative council
of Geneva, and employed the influence of his eminent his¬
torical position to gain for his fellow-citizens those rights to
which they held themselves entitled. In 1832 he wrote
his abridgment of the Italian Republics for Lardner’s
Cyclopcedia, and translated the same work into French.
He published in English and French his History of the
Fall of the Roman Empire, and the Decline of Civiliza¬
tion from 250 to 1000, 2 vols. 1835 ; and next year the
first part of his Etudes sur la Constitutions des Peuples
Fibres, 3 vols., which he completed in 1838. He likewise
finished his Etudes sur VEconomie Politique about the
same period. In his later years he gained himself enemies
by advocating the expulsion of Prince Louis Napoleon
Buonaparte from the states of Switzerland. On the 25th
of June 1842 this eminent historian died, in his seventieth
year. Besides the works already mentioned, Sismondi
wrote a large number of smaller pieces, critical, historical,
philosophical, and biographical, numbering seventy-three
in all.
SISTERON, a town of France, capital of an arrondisse-
ment in the department of Basses Alpes, in a valley be¬
tween two hills, 18 miles N.W. of Digne. On a rock
above the town stands an old castle, which has a very pic¬
turesque appearance. The town is also defended by walls
and towers. It is an ancient place, but now small and dirty.
A considerable trade in wine is carried on. Pop. (1856)
4213. rp .
SISTOVA, or Sistow, a town of European lurkey,
Bulgaria, on the right bank of the Danube, 36 miles S.W.
of Rustchuk. It rises from the water’s edge on two undu¬
lating slopes, thus presenting a very fine appearance, the
whole being crowned with an ancient and strong citadel on
the summit. The manufacture of leather and cotton is
carried on here, and much wine is produced in the vicinity.
The trade of the place is very active. Sistova was the
place where the treaty in 1791 between Austria and Tur¬
key was signed. It was dismantled by the Russians in
1810, who gained a victory here over the Turks. Pop.
20,000. a f
SISTRUM (Setorpov, fro)n craw, I shake), a kind ot
ancient musical instrument used by the priests of Isis an
Osiris. It was usually of an oval form ; in manner o a
racket, with four sticks traversing it breadthwise, whic
playing freely by the agitation of the whole instrument
yielded a kind of melodious sound.
SISYPHUS, in fabulous history, one of the descendants
of Eolus, married Merope, one of the Pleiades, who bore
him four sons. He resided at Epeyra in Peloponnesus,
and was a very crafty man. Others say that he was a Trojan
secretary, who was punished for discovering secrets °f sta|e ’
and others that he was a notorious robber, who was kil e
by Theseus. All the poets, however, agree that he was
punished in Tartarus for his crimes, by rolling a great stone
to the top of a hill, which constantly recoiling, compelie
him eternally to renew his labour.
SITTINGBOURNE, a town of England, in the county
S I u
S I X
311
{ An-
)a
S
1 T
13
of Kent, 15 miles W. by N. of Canterbury, and 38 E.S.E.
of London. It consists of one wide street on the road from
London to Canterbury; and contains a spacious parish
church, and another place of worship for Wesleyan Metho¬
dists. Several annual fairs are held here. Pop. 2897.
SIU-AN-HOA, a town of China, in the province of
Chi-li, on the Yang-ho, near the Great Wall, 90 miles
N.W. of Pekin. It has important manufactures of felt,
and some trade in tobacco. In the neighbouring country
there are several forts for the defence of the frontier.
SIVAS, or Roum, the capital of a pashalic of Asiatic
Turkey, on the north bank of the Kizil Irmak, 100 miles
S.W. by W. of Trebizond. It covers a large area in a
flat open plain, and the houses are intermingled with gar¬
dens and trees. Most of them are well built, and either
flat-roofed or covered with tiles. The streets are narrow,
crooked, and ill-paved. Two castles, each standing on a
hill, command the town. The mosques are numerous ; and
some of their minarets and porches are very fine. The
town has also large and well-stocked bazaars, khans, baths,
&c. The manufactures of the place are few and unim¬
portant; but the transit trade is very considerable, as it
stands on the best route of communication from Bagdad to
the west. European goods are the chief articles of com¬
merce. The population of the town is estimated at 27,000,
a large proportion of whom are Mohammedans. The pasha¬
lic of Sivas or Roum is 310 miles in length from E. to W.,
by 175 in breadth; and is bounded on the E. by those of
Trebizond, Erzeroom, and Diarbekir; S. by those of Marash
and Karamania; W. by that of Anatolia; and N. by the
Black Sea. It extends from the Kizil Irmak, the ancient
Halys, to the Euphrates ; and comprises mountains, valleys,
and plains, generally of great fertility. Iron, lead, copper,
marble, and slate are dug from the ground; and the
soil produces corn, flax, hemp, tobacco, silk, wine, &c.
There are extensive pastures, on which are fed the flocks
and herds of the Kurds and Turcomans. Pop. estimated
at 800,000.
SIVASH, or the Putrid Sea, a lagoon communicating
with the Sea of Azoff, on the N.E. coast of the Crimea.
It is separated from that sea by a narrow strip of land,
stretching for the length of 70 miles from S.E. to N.W.,
and only leaving one opening, the Strait of Yenitchi,
near the northern extremity of the lagoon. Its whole
length is about 110 miles, and its breadth varies from 2 to
lo, the western coast being very much indented. The
Salghir, the chief river of the Crimea, falls into the Sivasb.
The depth of the lagoon is very small; and the water,
which is muddy, gives rise in summer to very unhealthy
exhalations.
SI WAIT. See Ammon.
SIXTUS V., Pope, was born on the 13th of December
1521, in La Marca, a village in the seigniory of Montalto.
His father, Francis Peretti, was a gardener, and his mother
a servant-maid. He was their eldest child, and was called
Felice. At the age of nine he was hired out to an inhabi¬
tant of the village to keep sheep; but disobliging his mas¬
ter, he w'as soon afterwards degraded to be keeper of the
hogs. He w'as engaged in this employment when father
Michael Angelo Selleri, a Franciscan friar, asked the road
to Ascoli, where he was going to preach. Young Felice
conducted him thither, and struck the father so much with
his conversation and eagerness for knowdedge, that he re¬
commended him to the fraternity to which he had come,
de pursued his studies with such unwearied assiduity,
Was soon reckoned equal to the best disputants,
e was ordained priest in 1545, w'hen he assumed the name
o ather Montalto; soon afterwards he took his doctor’s
egiee, and was appointed professor of theology at Sienna,
t was then that he so effectually recommended himself to
ardinal Carpi, and his secretary Bossius, that they ever
remained his steady friends. Meanwhile the severity and Sixtus V.
obstinacy of his temper incessantly engaged him in disputes
with his monastic brethren. His reputation for eloquence,
which was now spread about this time over Italy, gained
him some new friends. Amongst these were the Colonna
family, and father Ghisilieri, by whose recommendation he
was appointed inquisitor-general at Venice; but he exer¬
cised that office with so much severity, that he was obliged
to flee precipitately from that city. Upon this he went to
Rome, where he was made procurator-general of his order,
and soon afterwards accompanied Cardinal Buon Compag-
non into Spain, as a chaplain and consultor to the Inquisi¬
tion. There he was treated with great respect, and liberal
offers were made to induce him to continue in Spain, which,
however, he could not be prevailed on to accept. In the
meantime news was brought to Madrid thac Pius IV. was
dead, and that father Ghisilieri, who had been made Car¬
dinal Alexandrine by Paul IV., had succeeded him under
the name of Pius V. These tidings filled Montalto with
joy, and not without reason, for he was immediately invested
by the pontiff with new dignities. Fie was made general
of his order, Bishop of St Agatha, soon afterwards raised to
the dignity of cardinal, and received a pension. About
this time he was employed by the Pope to draw up the bill
of excommunication against Queen Elizabeth.
Peretti began now to cast his eyes upon the papacy ; and,
in order to obtain it, formed and executed a plan of hypo¬
crisy with unparalleled constancy and success. He became
humble, patient, and affable. He changed his dress, his
air, his words, and his actions, so completely, that his most
intimate friends declared him a new man. Never was there
such an absolute victory gained over the passions; never
was a fictitious character so long maintained, nor the foibles
of human nature so artfully concealed. He courted the
ambassadors of every foreign power, but attached himself
to the interests of none; nor did he accept a single favour
that would have laid him under any peculiar obligation.
He had formerly treated his relations with the greatest
tenderness, but he now changed his behaviour altogether.
When his brother Anthony came to visit him, he lodged
him in an inn, and sent him home next day, charging him
to inform his family that he was now dead to his relations
and the world. When Pius V. died in 1572, he entered
the conclave with the other cardinals, but seemed altogether
indifferent about his election, and never left his apartments
except to his devotion. When solicited to join any party,
he declined it, declaring that he was of no consequence,
and that he would leave the choice of a pope entirely to
persons of greater knowledge and experience. When
Cardinal Buon Compagnon, who assumed the name of
Gregory XIII., was elected, Montalto assured him that he
never wished for anything so much in his life, and that he
would always remember his goodness, and the favours he
had conferred on him in Spain. But the new Pope treated
him with the greatest contempt, and deprived him of his
pension. The cardinals also, deceived by his artifices, paid
him no greater respect, and used to call him, by way of
ridicule, the Roman beast, the ass of La Marca. He now
assumed all the infirmities of old age ; his head hung down
upon his shoulders, he tottered as he walked, and supported
himself on a staff. His voice became feeble, and was often
interrupted by a cough so exceedingly severe, that it
seemed every moment to threaten his dissolution. He
interfered in no public transactions, but spent his whole
time in acts of devotion and benevolence. Meantime he
constantly employed the ablest spies, who brought him
intelligence of every particular. When Gregory XIII. died
in 1585, he entered the conclave with the greatest reluc¬
tance, and immediately shut himself up in his chamber,
and was no more thought of than if he had not existed.
When he went to mass, for which purpose alone he left his
312 SIX
Sixtus V. apartment, he appeared perfectly indifferent about the event
V—of the election. He joined no party, but flattered all. He
knew early that there would be great divisions in the con¬
clave, and he was aware that when the leaders of the dif¬
ferent parties were disappointed in their own views, they
all frequently agreed in the election of some old and infirm
cardinal, the length of whose life would merely enable them
to prepare themselves sufficiently for the next vacancy.
These views directed his conduct, nor was he mistaken in
his hopes of success. Three cardinals, the leaders of oppo¬
site factions, being unable to procure the election which
each of them wished, unanimously agreed to make choice
of Montalto. When they came to acquaint him with their
intention, he fell into such a violent fit of coughing, that
everv person thought he would expire on the spot. He told
them that his reign would last but a few days ; that, besides
a continual difficulty in breathing, he wanted strength to
support such a weight, and that his small experience ren¬
dered him'very unfit for so important a charge. He con¬
jured them all three not to abandon him, but to take the
whole weight of affairs upon their own shoulders; and de¬
clared that he would never accept the mitre upon any other
terms. “ If you are resolved,” added he, “ to make me pope,
it will only be placing yourselves on the throne. For my
part I shall be satisfied with the bare title. Let the world
call me pope, and I make you heartily welcome to the
power and authority.” The cardinals swallowed the bait,
and exerted themselves so effectually that Montalto was
elected. He now pulled off the mask which he had worn
for fourteen years. No sooner was his election secured,
than he started from his seat, flung down his staff in the
hall, and appeared almost a foot taller than he had done for
several years.
After his accession to the pontificate he sent for his
family to Rome, with express orders that they should appear
in a decent and modest manner. Accordingly his sister
Camilla came thither, accompanied by her daughter and
two grandchildren. Some cardinals, in order to pay court
to the pope, went out to meet her, and introduced her in
a very magnificent dress. Sixtus pretended not to know
her, and asked two or three times who she was. Upon this
one of the cardinals said, “It is your sister, holy father.”
“ I have but one sister,” replied Sixtus with a frown, “ and
she is a poor woman at Le Grotte; if you have introduced
her in this disguise, I declare I do not know her; yet I
think I would know her again, if I saw her in the clothes
she used to wear.” Her conductors at last found it neces¬
sary to carry her to an inn, and strip her of her finery.
When Camilla was introduced a second time, Sixtus em¬
braced her tenderly, and said, “ Now we know indeed that
it is our sister; nobody shall make a princess of you but
ourselves.” He stipulated with his sister, that she should
neither ask any favour of matters of government, nor inter¬
cede for criminals, nor interfere in the administration of
justice, declaring that every request of that kind would
meet with a certain refusal. These terms being agreed to,
and punctually observed, he made the most ample pro¬
vision, not only for Camilla, but for his whole relations.
This great man was also an encourager of learning. He
caused an Italian translation of the Bible to be published,
which raised a good deal of discontent amongst the Catholics.
When some cardinals reproached him for his conduct in
this respect, he replied, “ It was published for the benefit
of you cardinals who cannot read Latin.”
Sixtus died in 1590, after having reigned little more than
five years. His death was ascribed to poison, said to have
been administered by the Spaniards; but the story seems
rather improbable. It was to the indulgence of a disposi¬
tion naturally formed for severity that all the defects of
this wonderful man are to be ascribed. Clemency was a
stranger to his bosom; his punishments were often too
S K E
cruel, and seemed sometimes to border on revenge. But «.
though the conduct of Sixtus seldom excites love, it gene- T1,
rally commands our esteem, and sometimes our admiration. Skelton
He strenuously defended the cause of the poor, the widow,
and the orphan ; he never refused audience to the injured,
however wretched or forlorn their appearance was. He
never forgave those magistrates who were capable of par¬
tiality or corruption ; nor suffered crimes to pass unpunished,
whether committed by the rich or the poor. He was
frugal, temperate, sober, and never neglected to reward the
smallest favour which had been conferred on him before
his exaltation. When he mounted the throne, the treasury
was not only exhausted, but in debt; at his death it con¬
tained five millions of gold. Rome was indebted to him
for several of her greatest embellishments, particularly the
Vatican library; it was by him, too, that trade was first
introduced into the ecclesiastical state.
SIZAR, an appellation by which the lowest order of stu¬
dents in Cambridge and Dublin are distinguished, is derived
from the word size, which has a peculiar meaning. To size,
in the language of the university, is to get any sort of victuals
from the buttery, winch the students may want in their own
rooms, or in addition to their commons in the hall, and for
which they pay the cooks or butchers at the end of each
quarter. A size of anything is the smallest quantity of that
thing which can be thus bought. In Oxford, the order
similar to that of sizar is denominated servitor, a name evi¬
dently pointing to the menial order from which the class
originated. The sizars are not upon the foundation, and
therefore, whilst they continue sizars, are not capable of
being elected fellows; but they may at any time, if they
choose, become pensioners, and they generally sit for
scholarships immediately before they take their first de¬
grees. If successful, they are then on the foundation, and
are entitled to become candidates for fellowships, when
they have got their degree.
SKALITZ, a town of Hungary, in the country of Upper
Neutra, on the March, near the frontier of Moravia, 47
miles N. of Pressburg. It stands on a lofty height, and is
surrounded by walls. Here are several Protestant and
Roman Catholic churches, a town-hall, gymnasium, &c.
Weaving and shoemaking are carried on; and hemp is
raised in the vicinity. Pop. 7000.
SKELETON (o-kAAco, I dry), is the name given to the
frame-work of organized bodies, to which the tissues are
attached.
SKELTON, John, an old English poet, descended from
an ancient Cumberland family, was born probably at Nor¬
folk about the year 1460. Little is known of his life, and
from the almost total want of the first editions of his poems,
it is impossible to ascertain when it was he wrote the dif¬
ferent pieces which have handed down his name to our
time. He graduated at Cambridge probably in 1484, and
seems subsequently to have proceeded to the sister uni¬
versity of Oxford. His lines on The Death of the Noble
Prince Kynge Edwarde the Forth, who died in 1483, were
probably among the earliest of his productions. In 1489
he wrote an elegy on the death of the Earl of Northum¬
berland, who had been slain during a popular insurrection
in Yorkshire. Skelton was admitted a laureate of Oxford
and ad eundem at Cambridge, and he alludes with a self-
satisfied vanity in many of his poems to the badge “ enrolde
with silke and golde, I dare be bolde thus for to were.”
The dignity in question, however, was merely a university
degree in grammar, and not, as now, an honour conferred
by the crown. He was probably also court-poet to Henry
VIII., whom he had educated. It was in the latter ca¬
pacity he had the ode dedicated to him by Erasmus, in
which he alludes to Skelton as the lumen ac decus of Bri¬
tish letters. He was immoderately vain, and exceedingly
sarcastic, two gifts which kept him in constant broils. Of
S K E
• both qualities he has left but too strong evidence. No
poet but Skelton has left some sixteen hundred lines in
praise of himself. Yet the Garland of Laurell is by no
means the worst of his poems. His attack on Cardinal
Wolsey, who had formerly been his friend and patron,
and who had more than once guided the exercise of his
pen, as in Why come ye nat to Courte ? is, considering the
time it was written, perhaps the boldest piece of vitupera¬
tion in the language. Skelton sometimes surpasses even
himself in the abundance of his sarcastic ideas, and the
perfect torrent of abusive language which he pours upon
the head of the offending cardinal. It is impossible to read
Skelton’s rude and bitter taunts against Barclay, or his on¬
slaught against Garnesche, his ironical allusions to Gaguin,
or his angry lampoon on Lilly, without feeling that these
writers were no match for him in rough banter or in keen
invective.
Skelton had taken holy orders in 1498, and had been
appointed rector of Diss in Norfolk, but how long he re¬
mained there does not appear. He was at least nominally
rector of Hiss on his decease. Anthony a Wood affirms
that he was esteemed fitter “ for the stage than for the pew
or pulpitand there can be little doubt, without giving
credence to that obviously mythical collection known as the
Merie Tales of Skelton, that the freedom of his observations,
his occasional deflections into questionable by-paths, and
the scorn which he flung so freely at all around him, and
especially at the Dominicans, must have kept him in per¬
petual broils, and added greatly to the severity of their
judgments of the satirist, and perhaps ultimately to his
suspension from the church. The ostensible charge brought
against the poet was that of keeping a concubine, by whom he
had several children. The fact was, however, that Skelton
had secretly married the woman, as he confessed on his death¬
bed, and was withheld only from making an open confes¬
sion of his priestly crime by the terrors of his church.
This affords us a glimpse of the ecclesiastical morality of
those times, when it was accounted more respectable for a
priest to cohabit with a woman than it was for him to
marry her. It likewise shows us the free and unfettered
thought of the poet, who could dare to think for him-
selfin the midst of a whole kingdom, who accepted their
faith without question, as they did the air they breathed.
Besides those pieces already alluded to, he wrote likewise
a drama entitled Magnyfycence; The Boivge of Court;
Colyn Cloute; Ware the Hawk; Speke, Parrot; The Tun-
ny*9 °f Elynour Rummyng; and Phyllyp Sparowe,
which Coleridge justly calls “an exquisite andoriginal poem.”
Skelton is very severe on the Scotch, and on all enemies of
Henry VIII. According to Caxton, he translated several
of the Latin authors, but these versions have not come
down to us. 1 he poet took sanctuary at Westminster from
the resentment of Cardinal Wolsey, where he was protected
by his old friend Abbot Islip, till his death on the 21st
of June 1529.
Skelton was emphatically a satirical poet. He tries
various kinds of verse, serious, pathetic, and religious; but
in none of them does he rise often above the dead-level of
tiulness and prosy solemnity. When he gets into his vein
again, dulness finds no quarter. He flings, with an appa¬
rent carelessness, a rude sort of humour over his page that
Keeps a perpetual grin upon the countenance of the reader.
e esitates not about the employment of a vulgar word
w en it suits his purpose, and the thick maccaronic doggrel
^recluently bestrews his verse, renders his phraseology,
^ ici is almost always grotesque, as amusing as it is racy
n pungent. There is, besides, a wild, airy, lawlessness
ou is Skeltonical verse, which, with its quick returning
frf>nmei’ i c]r0^ery t^le words and phrases, and the
& eu. p ayfulness of the diction, renders it as rich a treat
a reac er of this age can find. There is one remarkable
VOL. xx.
S K E
feature in Skelton’s poetry, namely, the lavishness and
apparent carelessness with which he pours forth his endless
treasure of words. (See The Poetical Works of John Skel¬
ton, rcith an account of his Life* by the Rev. Alexander
Dyce, 2 vols., 1843.)
SKENE, Sir John, a Scottish lawyer, was the second
son of James Skene of Ramore, and of Janet the second
daughter of Alexander Burnet of Leys, and was born about
the year 1540. He is said to have been partly educated at
mgs College, Aberdeen; but he is known to have been
incorporated at St Andrews in the year 1556, and in this
university he took the degree of A.M. In 1564 and 1565 he
taught as one of the regents of St Mary’s College. Accord¬
ing to Dempster’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Scotorum,
T>e iS^ejnt ajfeat Part °! *lis y°uth >n Norway, Denmark, and
oland. Skene mentions that, after spending seven years
abroad he returned from the University of Wittemberg in
1514, honoured with an annual pension from the Elector of
Saxony, and imbued with some knowledge of the civil
law. On revisiting his native country, he finally made
c mice of the legal profession, and was admitted as an advo¬
cate on the 19th of March 1575. He speedily acquired
some degree of distinction as a lawyer.
The Earl of Morton, then regent of the kingdom, had
formed a plan for reducing the laws into a more easy form
and method. The execution of the plan was committed to
hkene and to Sir James Balfour, president of the Court
of Session. The labours of Skene, whatever may have
been their nature or extent, were, on the 10th of June
u ij iew^™ed by the grant of an annual pension of “ ten
chaldersof meal,” payable out of the revenues of the abbey
of Aberbrothock. Skene accompanied the Earl Marischal
on an embassy to Denmark, to negotiate a marriage with
a Danish princess, in 1589. Dr Craig, physician to the
king, addressed a letter to Tycho Brahe, recommendintr to
his friendly attentions Skene, Swinton, Nicolson, and Fowler,
who were all attached to this mission. In the course of the
same year, Skene was conjoined with David Makgill for
executing the office of his Majesty’s advocate ; and in 1590
he v\as associated with Colonel Stewart in an embassy to
some of the princes of Germany (Moysie’s Memoirs of the
Affairs of Scotland, p. 84, Edinb. 1830, 4to). During the
same year he was employed on an embassy to the States-
General (Maidment’s Analecta Scotica, vol. i. p. 51). In
1592 an act of parliament authorized the chancellor, assisted
by other commissioners, of whom Skene was one, to institute
a general examination of the municipal laws, to consider
what laws and acts should be known to the king’s subjects,
and to take the necessary steps for printing them {Acts of the
Parliaments of Scotland, vol. iii., p.564). The most labo¬
rious part of this undertaking devolved upon Skene; and,
after an interval of five years, he published The Lawes and
Actes of Parliament maid he King lames the First and
his Svccessovrs, Kinges of Scotland: visied, collected, and
extractedfurth of the Register, Edinb. 15 Marti! a.d. 1597,
fol. According to our present mode of reckoning, the book
was published in the year 1598. With a separate title it
includes a treatise, De Verhorum Significatione. The Ex¬
position of the Termes and difficill Wordes, conteined in
the fovre bvikes of Regiam Majestatem, and vthers, in the
Actes of Parliament, Infeftments, and vsed in Practicque
of this Realme, with diverse rules and common places, or
principalles of the Lawes : collected and exported be M.
lohn Skene, Clerke of our Soveraine Lordis Register,
Councell and Rolles.
In September 1594 he had been appointed to the office
of clerk-register, in the room of Alexander Hay of Easter
Kennet, whom he also succeeded as one of the judges of the
Court of Session. In 1604 he was associated with other com¬
missioners for discussing the terms of a union between the
two kingdoms. About the beginning of the year 1607 he had
2 R
314
S K E
Skew
Bridge
Skerries prepared another work for the press ; and “ the meanness
of his estaite and fortune not answerand to his vvitt, ingyne,
and literature,” the privy council, after having examined it,
addressed a letter to the king, requesting him to provide
the means for its publication (Brunton and Haig’s Histo¬
rical Account of the Senators of the College of Justice,
22,2). His manuscript was afterwards presented to Par¬
liament, and, having been highly approved, was ordered to
be printed. It was at length published, under the title of
Regiam Majestatem, Edinb., 1609, fol. A Scottish trans¬
lation speedily followed during the same year.
Skene’s publications are deficient in critical accuracy, and
even in editorial fidelity. It is well known that the treatise
De Legibus et Consuetudinibus Regni Anglice, commonly
ascribed to Glanville, was at an early period adopted in
Scotland, with a few changes and modifications ; and that,
under this new form, it bears the title of Regiam Majes¬
tatem, from'the initial words of the prologue. Skene was,
however, anxious to exhibit Regiam Majestatem as the
original, and to represent it as having been composed and
divulged by the authority of David L, who closed his reign
in the year 1153. From what manuscripts he derived his
text, he has not thought proper to specify ; but several are
to be found which contain a reference to Glanville by name,
but no more. Having reached an advanced age, he be¬
came anxious to secure for his eldest son James the office
of clerk-register; but his attempt was defeated by the
dexterity of Sir Thomas Hamilton, afterwards successively
Earl of Melrose and of Haddington. Skene, or Lord
Curriehill, for such was his title on the bench, resigned his
office in the year 1612, and he survived till the 16th of
March 1617. His last descendant, Elizabeth Skene, be¬
queathed to the Advocates’ Library a collection of family
papers, together with a very curious collection of ancient
music, which appears to have belonged to this ancestor.
The Skene Papers have been carefully bound in a folio
volume; and the music has since been published by Wil¬
liam Dauney, who has added a copious and elaborate intro¬
duction, together with notes and illustrations.
SKERRIES, a seaport of Ireland, in the county and 17
miles N.N.E. of Dublin. It is built on a small headland,
and has a very neat and clean appearance, containing a
parish church with a pinnacled tower, and other places of
worship for Roman Catholics and Methodists. The men
are mostly employed in fishing, and a large number of the
women in embroidery. There are in the town corn-mills,
malting kilns, and a brewery. The harbour is safe ; and a
considerable coasting trade is carried on in potatoes, lime¬
stone, and coal. Opposite the town lie the four Skerry Islands,
on the largest of which is a Martello tower. Pop. 2327.
SKEW BRIDGE. In the article Bridge the theory
has been given of those arches which stand at right-angles
to their abutments, and which were the only arches in use
until the requirements of canal and railroad engineering
suggested the idea of building bridges obliquely across the
streams or roads which they have to span.
In these oblique, or skewed arches, as they are called,
the plan of the soffit, instead of being rectangular, as in the
ordinary bridge, is rhomboidal. Now, it the joints were
made to run parallel to the abutments, the directions of the
pressures would not be normal to them, and the stability of
the arch would depend on the friction of the surfaces, and
on the induration of the mortar.
The first attempts to secure the stability ol the skewed
arch consisted in forming the joints in helical lines, the
pitch of the screw being so taken that the line, as it crossed
the crown of the arch, might be perpendicular to the
parapet, and a lively disputation was carried on in the pages
of the Civil Engineer and Architects Journal, during the
years 1838, 1839, 1840, by the advocates of different
methods of carrying this idea into effect. Yet a very slight
S K E
attention to the subject is enough to convince us that the
helical joint can only be perpendicular to the lines of pres¬
sure at one point, and that, therefore, it cannot satisfy the
condition of stability.
The true theory of the oblique arch was first given, by
the writer of the present article, in a series of papers read
before tbe Society of Arts for Scotland, in 1835, 1836,
1838, an abridgment of which was published in their
“ Transactions,” in the Edinburgh New Philosophical
Journal for April 1840, and which was reprinted in the
Civil Engineer and Architects Journal for July 1840.
Let ABDC (fig. 1) be the plan of a skewed arch ; AB,
Skew-
Bridge.
Fig. 1.
CD, being the abutments; AC, BD, the parapets ; and
KOML the horizontal projection of one of the joints cross¬
ing the crown line ON at O. Then, while the lines of
pressure must be contained in planes GF, MN, &c., parallel
to the parapets, the joint KOML should cross all these
upon the surface of the vault, at right angles.
If another joint line be drawn contiguous to KOML, so
that the included space may represent the lower faces of an
exceedingly thin course of arch-stones, and if MR be drawn
parallel to ON, the intercepted distance MR must clearly
be equal to OQ. Draw now, on the surface of the vault, the
arcs QP, RS, parallel to the parapets, then it can be shown
that these minute arcs ought to be proportional to the co¬
sines of their inclinations to the horizon, or that, since 0
is on the crown of the arch,
arc QP : arc RS :: R : cos-incl at M
Hence, if a be taken to represent the length of the arc
NM, v the distance ON, and i the inclination of the line of
pressure at M to the horizon, so that MR may be the dif¬
ferential of v, and the arc RS the differential of a, s also
being put for the angle of the skew,
sin s . Sy : 8a :: 1 : cos i; or,
8a = sin s . cos i . 8v (L)
But the projection of the arc RS upon the horizontal plane
is less than RS in the ratio of the cosine of the obliquity ;
wherefore, if u represent the horizontal projection of NM,
and 8m that of RS, we have
8m = sin s . cos P . 8w (2.)
Let fig. 2 be the side elevation of the same arch, that is,
its projection upon one of the parapet planes, then, since
the projection of a right angle upon a plane parallel to one
of its sides is always a right angle, it follows that the end
elevation, KOML, of the joint line must cross the projec¬
tion of each of the lines of pressure perpendicularly. And
SKI
SKI
315
kibbereen hence this very remarkable fact, that the configuration of the
II projection of a joint upon the plane of the parapet is entirely
Skinner.^ hidependent of the angle of the skew, and is deducible
'"'v ^ from the character of the vault alone.
The equations (1) and (2) are universal; they apply
alike to circular, elliptical, parabolic, or catenarian arches;
the first giving, on being integrated, the development of
the surface of the vaults; the second giving the plan.
In the case of the cylindroid arch, when the lines of
pressure are circular, the radius being r, we have a = r i,
so that equation (1) becomes
r§i = sin s . cos i . Sv, or,
sin s .hv = r . sec i .
whence by integration
v . sin s = r nep . log tan ^45° + ^-
or, using common logarithms,
log . tan (450 +0 =-M- 'rSin * v (3.)
from which equation the positions and dimensions of the
arch-stones may be computed with great ease.
The second equation becomes, in the same case,
. „ r3 Su
sin s . ov= -a r,
r-u2,
whence by integration,
sin s . v = r . nep
(4.)
So that the horizontal projection of the joint of a skewed
circular arch is midway between two logarithmic curves;
and in this respect it bears some analogy to the catenary,
which is also midway between two logarithmic curves : to
this curve I have given the name of double logarithmic.
The projection of the joint of a circular skewed arch,
upon the plane of the parapet, is, evidently, the well-known
curve called the tractory.
In order to obtain the configuration of the joints for any
other kind of arch, we have only to determine, from the
nature of the case, the value of cos i, in terms of a or of u,
and substitute it in equations (1) and (2), which will then,
on being integrated, give the development, and the projec¬
tion on the horizontal plane. (e. s.)
SKIBBEREEN, a market-town of Ireland, on the River
Han, in the county and 45 miles S.W. of Cork, 210 S.W.
of Dublin. It is for the most part well built of stone ; and
contains, besides the parish church, places of worship for
Roman Catholics and Wesleyans, two national schools, a
market-house, court-house, jail, custom-house, dispensary,
and work-house. Near the town are several flour-mills
and a brewery. The weaving of coarse frieze is also carried
on by many of the inhabitants. Several fairs are held,
where these coarse stuffs are disposed of. The river is
navigable for boats up to Skibbereen; but large vessels
must lie at Aldcourt, its port, 2 miles farther down. Corn,
flour, and provisions are exported. Skibbereen suffered
very much during the famine of 1846-7 ; and it contains a
large proportion of paupers. Pop. 6440.
SKINNER, John, a Scottish Episcopal clergyman, but
better known as a poet, and the author of Tullochgorum,
was born at Balfour, in the parish of Birse, and county of
Aberdeen, on the 3d of October 1721. His father, John
Skinner, was parish schoolmaster there, and had married
the widow of Donald Farquharson of Balfour. About two
years after the birth of this their only son, the mother died,
and Mr Skinner removed to the parish of Edit, in the same
county, where he continued to discharge the duties of
parish schoolmaster for upwards of fifty years. He had the
character of being a very efficient teacher, and is said to
have “ fitted out more young men for the university than
most country schoolmasters of his day.” By a second Skinner,
marriage which he contracted he had a numerous family,
John received the earlier part of his education at his
father’s school, and made so rapid progress, especially in
the Latin language, that when only thirteen he gained a
considerable bursary at the annual competition in Maris-
chal college. For the intimate knowledge of the Latin
tongue, which he afterwards displayed in his writings, he
was, doubtless, in great measure indebted to the careful
training of his father. After completing his academical
curriculum at the university, he acted for a few months as
teacher in Kemnay, and afterwards became assistant school¬
master in the neighbouring parish of Monymusk. While
here some of his poetical effusions having come under the
notice of the lady of Sir Archibald Grant, the proprietor of
the parish, she generously took him into her favour, placed
the library at his command, and afforded “ him in the house
of Monymusk every accommodation for prosecuting his
studies, and improving his mind in the attainment of use¬
ful learning.” Here also he enjoyed the friendship and
fellowship of an Episcopalian clergyman, and was thus led
to connect himself with the Scottish Episcopalian commu¬
nion. In June 1740 he accepted an invitation to become
tutor to the only son of Mr Sinclair of Scalloway, a gentle¬
man of considerable property in Shetland. In consequence
of the death of his pupil’s father, he only remained here
about twelve months, but within that time he wooed and
wedded Grace, eldest daughter of Mr Flunter, the only
Episcopal clergyman in these islands. Returning to Aber¬
deenshire, he completed his studies for the ministry, and
was ordained a presbyter of the Episcopal Church, by Bishop
Dunbar, at Peterhead. A vacancy having occurred in the
congregation at Longside, he accepted an unanimous call
to be their pastor; and in November 1742, when only
twenty-one years of age, he entered upon the charge, which
he continued to hold for nearly sixty-five years. Soon
after his settlement at Longside, perceiving the sufferings
that his neighbours frequently endured for want of medical
attendance, there being no practitioner within 4 or 5 miles
of Longside, he set himself to the study of medicine ; and
with the aid of an eminent physician in Aberdeen (Dr
Thomas Livingston), who approved of his design, he soon
acquired such a knowledge of the healing art as enabled
him to afford to the poor suffering under disease such relief
as they could not otherwise have easily obtained, and the
want of which might sometimes have proved fatal. Nor
were his labours confined merely to the members of his
own congregation, but he cheerfully administered relief to
all within his reach, ever refusing to accept of any fee for
his services.
After the rebellion of 1745, the Episcopalians being in
general Jacobites, were subjected to the most barbarous
treatment. Their clergy, in particular, were special ob¬
jects of persecution. Their houses were plundered, their
chapels destroyed, and their very lives endangered by
bands of ruthless soldiers. To avoid falling into their
hands, Mr Skinner had frequently to resort to stratagems ;
and one evening, on returning home from visiting at some
distance, “ he found his house in the possession of a mili¬
tary party; some of them guarding the door with fixed
bayonets, and others searching the several apartments, even
the bed-chamber where Mrs Skinner was lying-in of her
fifth child.” They “ pillaged the house of everything they
could carry with them, hardly leaving a change of linen
to father, mother, or child in the family.” The chapel
with all its furniture was burned ; and a lady of some rank
is said to have manifested her zeal, by riding in triumph
round the blazing pile, and shouting to the infuriated
soldiers to “ Hold in the Prayer Books.” For several
years the congregation had no place to meet in for public
worship but the clergyman’s house ; and to prevent his
316 SKI
Skinner, flock from being scattered, Mr Skinner published a small
^J tract, entitled a Preservative against Presbytery. In
consequence of the penal enactments against Episcopacy
in Scotland, Mr Skinner could only minister to his flock
with the utmost caution ; and in 1753 he was apprehended
and subjected to six months’ imprisonment in Aberdeen
jail, for officiating to more than four persons besides his
own family.
For some years before and after his imprisonment he had
devoted much of his leisure time to the study of the He¬
brew language; and the first fruit of his labours in this
field was a Dissertation on Jacob's Prophecy, published
in 1757. About 1758, with the view of bettering his
straightened circumstances, he entered upon a farm in the
neighbourhood—Mains of Ludquharn ; but after a hard
struggle of nearly seven years, he gave it up in disgust.
The next considerable work which Mr Skinner published
was An Ecclesiastical History of Scotland, from the First
Appearance of Christianity in that Kingdom to the Pre¬
sent Time, in a Series of Letters to a Friend, 2 vols.
8vo, London, 1788.
During the autumn of 1799 he had the misfortune to
lose his wife, who had been the beloved partner of his joys
and sorrows for the long term of fifty-eight years. After
this event the weight of years continued to press more and
more heavily upon him, and at length, at the pressing in¬
vitation of his son, Bishop Skinner, he agreed to come to
Aberdeen. Resigning his flock to the care of another, and
bidding adieu to the scene of his labours for so long a
period, he came to Aberdeen on the 4th of June 1807.
But he did not long enjoy his changed circumstances, for,
after a slight illness, he expired without a struggle or a
groan, on the 16th of the same month, in the eighty-sixth
year of his age. In compliance with his own request, his
remains were interred in the churchyard of Longside ; and
a marble monument was erected to his memory by the
members of his congregation.
Mr Skinner was a man of a very amiable and cheerful
disposition, and is said by Burns to be “ one of the worthiest
of mankind.” In his lowly cottage at Linshart, with its but
and ben, he passed his days contented and happy, as he has
sung in his Old Man's Song, which is entirely descriptive
of his own condition and feelings. He possessed great
fluency in conversation, and a rich fund of wit and humour,
that made his company always desirable and pleasant. He
had no mean share of learning, and was frequently con¬
sulted by Dr Gleig, when acting as editor of a previous
edition of this work. In the composition of Latin verse
he had attained to great facility and considerable skill; and
in the Hebrew language his knowledge was profound and
critical. Of his songs some have been and still are very
popular. His Tullochgorum, said by Burns to be “ the
best Scotch song Scotland ever saw,” will exist as long
as the language in which it is written. John o'Baden-
yon and the Ewie wi' the Crookit Horn have also enjoyed
a great share of popularity. Speaking of his poetical
effusions, he says, in one of his letters to Burns, “ A
small portion of taste in this way (poetry) I have had
almost from childhood, especially in the old Scottish dia¬
lect, and it is as old a thing as I remember my fondness
for Chryste-Kirk on the Green, which I had by heart
ere I was twelve years of age, and which, some years
ago, I attempted to turn into Latin verse. While I was
young I dabbled a good deal in these things, but on get¬
ting the black gown I gave it pretty much over, till my
daughters grew up, who, being all tolerably good singers,
plagued me for words to some of their favourite tunes,
and so extorted those effusions which have made a public
appearance beyond my expectations, and contrary to my
intentions; at the same time, that I hope there is nothing
to be found in them uncharacteristic or unbecoming the
SKY
cloth, which I would always wish to see respected.” Not Skipton
lono- after his death his theological works appeared in ||
two”volumes, with a life of the author prefixed, and soon Sk)’e.
after a third volume, containing a miscellaneous collection
of fugitive pieces of poetry, &c. Very recently (1859) his
songs and poems have appeared in a small volume, with a
life by H. G. Reid.
SKIPTON, a market-town of England, in the West
Riding of Yorkshire, in a valley near the Aire, 38 miles
W. of York. It is an ancient town, for the most part well
built of stone, and consisting of one main street of consider¬
able breadth. The principal public building is the town-
hall, in which the quarter sessions for the West Riding are
held. The parish church is a large substantial building,
some parts of which are of great antiquity. A district
church was erected in 1838; and there are also places of
worship for Primitive and Wesleyan Methodists, Indepen¬
dents, Swedenborgians, and Roman Catholics. The Free
Grammar School of Skipton, founded in 1548, had, in 1854,
upwards of sixty scholars, and an endowment of L.600 a
year. There are also in the town national and British
schools, a mechanics’ institute, library, and savings’ bank,
as well as several charitable institutions. Many of the in¬
habitants find employment in the cotton factories of the
town, but not a few of them are employed in agricul¬
ture. At the weekly markets there is a considerable
traffic in corn ; and numerous fairs are held for cattle and
sheep. The general trade of the place is facilitated by the
Leeds and Liverpool canal, which passes near the town.
The old castle of Skipton, still used as a residence, is a
large quadrangular edifice, the most part of which dates
from the reign of Edward II. First founded in the time
of William the Conqueror, it was a place of great strength
in the seventeenth century, and held out for three years
against the Parliamentary forces. In 1649 it was dis¬
mantled, but subsequently rebuilt by the Countess of Pem¬
broke. Pop. of the town, 4962.
SKYE, the largest of the western islands of Scotland,
included in Inverness-shire, of which it forms a consider¬
able portion, lies between N. Lat. 57. 2., and 57. 41.;
W. Long. 5. 37. and 6. 40.; separated from the mainland
by the Sound of Sleat and the narrow straits called Kyle
Rhea and Kyle Akyn. Its form is exceedingly irregular.
The length of a line drawn from the point of Aird, its
northern, to that of Sleat, its southern extremity, is about
44 miles ; its breadth in the northern or broadest portion
is more than 20 miles; and its area is about 535 square
miles. But so much is the coast indented with lochs and
creeks, that there is hardly any place in the island more
than 5 miles distant from the sea. The coast is lofty,
bold, and rocky, lined in many places with vast masses of
trap-rock, or perpendicular basaltic columns. These are
especially prevalent on the north-east coast of the island,
occupying the whole district of Trotternish, from Portree
northwards to the point of Aird. The island may be gene¬
rally characterized as a great tract of mountainous moor¬
land; but there are several districts of a different char¬
acter—plains, green hills, and tracts of arable land occupy¬
ing some portions of the surface. The plain of Kilmuir,
in the north-west, and another of smaller size near Braca-
dale, are the only considerable level portions. The chief tract
of arable land lies in the south-east along the coast of the
Sound of Sleat. A valley, called the strath, stretches across
the island from shore to shore, not much above the level
of the sea, near the south of the island. The mountains of
Skye form three principal groups; one of which occupies
the peninsula of Sleat, in the south-east; another, the dis¬
trict of Minginish, near the centre; and a third, the penin¬
sulas of Trotternish, Waternish, and Kilmuir, in the north.
The hills in the southern part of Sleat have an average
height of only 1200 feet; but further north there are five
SKY
SLA
united mountains which rise to the elevation of 2000 feet.
The mountains of Minginish, however, compose the largest
as well as the most rugged and imposing group in the
island, and they form a conspicuous object from almost
every part of it. Here rise the Cuchullin Hills, near the
south of the district, forming a group encircling Loch
Coruisk. These hills are remarkable for their bold and
serrated character; and Scuir-na-Gillean, which is gene¬
rally regarded as the highest summit, has been estimated
to attain an elevation of 3200 or 3220 feet above the sea.
Another summit, called Blaven, east of the Cuchullin Hills,
is believed to be the loftiest peak in the whole island.
The Red Hills rise further to the north, and are more tame
and rounded in outline than the Cuchullin Hills. They
derive their name from the streaks of red with which
they are mostly covered. In the north of Skye, the loftiest
and most remarkable mountain is the Storr in Trotternish.
It is quite perpendicular to the side of the sea; and forms
a number of detached pinnacles of the most gigantic size
and fantastic appearance; one of them being very similar
in form to a spire, and forming a conspicuous sea-mark.
The height of the Storr is 2348 feet. There are no con¬
siderable rivers in the island, but a vast number of rivulets ;
and of the lakes the chief is Loch Coruisk, already men¬
tioned, celebrated for its wild and barren scenery. The
arms of the sea are numerous. On the Sound of Sleat is
Loch-in-Daal; on the south-west coast of the island, Loch
Eishart, Loch Slapin, Loch Scavaig, Loch Brittle, Loch
Eynort, and Loch Bracadale ; on the north-west coast, Loch
Follart, Loch Bay, and Loch Snizort; and on the north¬
east, Portree Loch, Loch Sligachan, Loch Ainort, and
Broadford Bay. The islands of Ilona, Raasay, and Scalpa,
which lie to the east of Skye, are separated from it by the
sounds called by their respective names. The district of
Sleat consists of stratified rocks, including gneiss, chlorite
slate, mica, and horn-blende slate, extending regularly
from S.W, to N.E. The central and northern parts°of the
island, however, are quite different in their geological
structure. Large masses of trap-rock there lie above and
around portions of sandstone. All the mountains in Trot¬
ternish are formed of amygdaloid trap; and among the
other formations in this district there are basalt, lias, oolite,
shale, &c. Although Skye contains several beds of coal’
yet these are so small that they are of very slight value.
The only mineral worked is the limestone of the district
of Strath. In this district, also, there are quarries of marble;
but these, though at one time worked, are now greatly
neglected. 1 he marble is generally gray in colour, but
there are some blocks as pure and white as the best
used for statuary. In the limestone of this region there are
many caves; one of which, called the Spar Cave, is re¬
markable for the beauty of the stalactites, with which it is
encrusted. Another cave in Skye, near Portree, is adorned
uiti similar crystallizations; and is also memorable as
laving afforded a refuge to Prince Charles Stuart after the
battle of Culloden. The climate of the island is remark¬
ably moist and variable, three days out of four being in
general rainy. The hills are frequently enveloped in clouds
am mists; and some of the loftier summits are covered
with snow for a great part of the year. The soil is not
' , suited lor cultivation, as a great proportion of it is moist
and boggy. Indeed agriculture is almost confined to a few
lb nets including some parts of Trotternish and Sleat, the
1 lain of Bracadale, and patches of ground at Broadford,
^zort, ortiee, and other places. And even in these
'ccs no gieat amount of skill is expended in the cultiva-
nWf l ?.™und 5 and the crops raised are far from being
nf tl' U ’ i 16 thrming implements are in many instances
or “VUdeSt Possible description, and many of the farms
i arf S° Sma11 as hard]y to render it worth while to
troduce the plough or the harrow. Instead of the former
the caschrome, or ancient crooked spade, is much used by
the poor; and the place of the latter is frequently supplied
by rakes. Except the alternation of oats and potatoes, and
even this is not universally practised, there is no such thing
as a rotation of crops in a great part of the island, though
in the larger farms this is practised. In some of the more
remote districts the only method of grinding the corn is by
t ie quern or hand-mill. In fact, it is not agricultural pro-
(ecu’ ^Ut catde’ sheep, and kelp that form the chief riches
of bkye. By far the greater part of the surface, consisting
ot moorlands and grassy tracts, is devoted to the rearing of
cattle and sheep. The breeds of both have been much
improved, and the latter are mostly Cheviots. Kelp is
obtained by drying sea-ware in the sun, and afterwards
burning it in small pits. From these pits, while in use,
dense clouds of smoke are continually given out. Fishing
is also carried on to some extent in Skye, though the
people cannot be said in any sense to be a fishing commu-
' V?n t le>r dress is not suited for seafaring pursuits,
although they are for a great part of their time on the sea;
and except the herring fishery, during its season, they pay
very little attention to any other. Oysters, however, are
found m abundance in the Sound of Scalpa and Loch
Snizort; lobsters on the west coast; cockles, mussels, lim-
pets, &c., in various places. The men frequently leave the
,a nd ,in sumrner in search of work, either on farms or in
ne fisheries of the east coast; and the women sometimes
eave duiing the harvest. Owing to the system of subdi¬
viding the land into very small crofts, the island is over¬
peopled, and many of the inhabitants reduced to a state of
poverty. Their houses are frequently very mean and
wretched ; and the failure of the potato crop, which forms
heie an important article of sustenance, has caused great
distress. A gradual alteration is taking place in the system
of small crofts; many clearances have been eftected, and
many of the people have been obliged to emigrate. No
manufacture, except that of kelp is carried on in Skye;
and the only markets for the disposal of cattle are held at
Portree. This town, the largest in the island, has a good
hai hour, and communicates regularly by means of steamers
with Glasgow. The island is divided into seven parishes,
and contains also seven churches belonging to the Free
Church, I he most of it belongs to Lord Macdonald, or
to the M‘Leod family. Armadale Castle, the residence of
the former, and Dunvegan Castle that of the latter, are the
principal seats in the island. Parts of the latter are very
ancient, and it is one of the finest mansions in the High¬
lands of Scotland. Brochel Castle, in the island of Raasays,
is an interesting ruin, occupying a ledge of rock over¬
hanging the sea. The population of Skye is 21,521.
SLAITHWAITE, a village of England, in the West
Riding of Yorkshire, in the valley of the Colne, 5 miles
W.S.W. of Huddersfield. It contains a large but plain
church with a tower, a national and a free school, woollen
and cotton mills, and quarries of freestone in the vicinity.
Here too are mineral-springs, closely resembling those of
Harrowgate. In connection with them, baths and lodging-
houses have been erected, and fine gardens and pleasure-
grounds laid out. Slaithwaite forms a station of the Leeds
and Manchester railway. Pop. 2852.
SLANDER, is the malicious defamation of a man’s cha¬
racter by spoken words, as libel is by written words. (See
Libel.) Slanderous words are of two kinds. First, those
actionable in themselves; and second, those which are na¬
turally calculated to occasion damage to the person of whom
they are spoken. Of the former class are all words imput¬
ing to a man some crime punishable in the temporal courts,
tending to injure him in his profession, trade, or calling by
which he gains his livelihood ; tending to his exclusion from
society, or to disparage him in an office of public trust. It
is presumed by the law, that all such words have a natural
317
Slaithwaite
II
Slander.
318
SLA
Slavery de¬
fined.
Slave Lake and necessary tendency to injure the person of whom they
II have been spoken, and allows any party to sue for damages,
Slavery, without proving that any have been in fact occasioned, d o
say of a man that he has committed a crime for which one
can transport him ^ to say that he has an infectious disease >
to call a lawyer a knave, a physician a quack, or a trades¬
man a bankrupt, or charge a magistrate or judge with cor¬
ruption, is actionable. “ Lord Campbell’s Act,” as it is
called (Statute 6 & 7 Viet., c. 96), was passed in 1843, for
the better protection of private character from slander and
libel. By 15 & 16 Viet., c. 76, § 70, it is enacted that,
in all cases of slander, the defendant is precluded from pay¬
in'1 *- money into court by way of compensation or amends.
SLAVE LAKE, Great, a lake in the Hudson’s Bay
Company’s territory, North America, lying between N.
Lat. 60. 40. and 63.; W. Long. I09. and 117. 30. Its
form is very irregular; its length from E. to W. about 250
miles, average breadth 50, area upwards of 12,000 square
miles. Its northern shores are steep and rugged ; and there
are many rocky islands on its surface. Its largest affluent
is the Slave River, from Lake Athabasca, and it discharges
its waters by the Mackenzie River into the Polar Ocean.
. SLAVERY is a word, of which, though generally under¬
stood, it is not easy to give a proper definition. An ex¬
cellent moral writer has defined it to be “ an obligation to
labour for the benefit of the master, without the contract
or consent of the servant.” But may not he be properly
called a slave, who has given up his freedom to discharge a
debt which he could not otherwise pay, or who has thrown
it away at a game of hazard? In many nations, debts have
been legally discharged in this manner; and in some savage
tribes, it is no uncommon thing for a man, after having lost
at play all his other property, to stake, on a single throw of
dice, himself, his wife, and his children. That persons who
have thus lost their liberty are slaves, will hardly be denied ;
and surely the infatuated gamester is a slave by his own con¬
tract. The debtor, too, if he was aware of the law, and
contracted debts larger than he could reasonably expect to
be able to pay, may justly be considered as having come
under an obligation to labour for the benefit of a master
with his own consent; for every man is answerable for all
the known consequences of his voluntary actions.
But this definition of slavery seems to be defective as well
as inaccurate. A man may be under an obligation to la¬
bour through life for the benefit of a master, and yet that
master have no right to dispose of him by sale, or in any
other way to make him the property of a third person; but
the w-ord slave, as used amongst us, always denotes a per¬
son who may be bought and sold like a beast in the market.1
Inequali- -Vs nothing can be more evident than that all men have,
ties of rank by the law of nature, an equal right to life, liberty, and the
inevitable, produce of their own labour, it is not easy to conceive what
can have first led one part of them to imagine that they had
a right to enslave another. Inequalities of rank are indeed
inevitable in civil society; and from them results that ser¬
vitude which is founded in contract, and is of temporary
duration. He who has much property has many things to
attend to, and must be disposed to hire persons to assist
and serve him; whilst those who have little or no property
must be equally willing to be hired for that purpose. And
if the master be kind, and the servant faithful, they will
both be happier in this connection than they could have
been out of it. But from a state of servitude, where the
slave is at the absolute disposal of his master in all things,
and may be transferred without his own consent from one
proprietor to another, like an ox or an ass, happiness must
be for ever banished. How then came a traffic so unna-
. SLA
tural and unjust as that of slaves, to be originally introduced Slavery.
into the world ? ...
The common answer to this question is, that it took its
rise amongst savages, who, in their frequent wars with eacn
other, either massacred their captives in cold blood, or con¬
demned them to perpetual slavery. In support of this opi-
nion etymologists observe, that the Latin word servus, w hich
signifies not a hired servant, but a slave, is derived from
servare, to preserve; and that such men were called ser-
vi, because they were captives, whose lives were preserved
on the condition of their becoming the property of the victor.
That slavery had its origin from war, we think extremely Origin of
probable, nor are we inclined to controvert this etymology slavery,
of the word servus ; but the traffic in men prevailed almost
universally, long before the Latin language or Roman name
was heard of; and there is no good evidence that it began
amongst savages. 4 he word *oy, in the Old Testament,
which in our version is rendered servant, signifies literally
a slave, either born in the family or bought with money, in
contradistinction to VtiW, which denotes a hired servant;
and as Noah makes use of the word lay in the curse which priortot
he denounces upon Ham and Canaan immediately after the deluge,
deluge, it would appear that slavery had its origin before
that event. If so, it may be plausibly conjectured that it be¬
gan amongst those violent persons whom our translators have
called giants? though the original word t'bs:.literally sig¬
nifies assaulters of others. Those wretches seem to have
first seized upon women, whom they forcibly compelled to
minister to their pleasures; and from this kind of violence
the progress was natural to that by which they enslaved
their weaker brethren amongst the men, obliging them to
labour for their benefit, without allowing them fee or reward.
After the deluge the first dealer in slaves seems to have Nimrod e
been Nimrod. “ He began,” we are told, “ to be a mighty slaved hi,
one in the earth, and was a mighty hunter before the Lord.” captives.
He could not, however, be the first hunter of wild beasts;
nor is it probable that his dexterity in the chase, which
was then the universal employment, could have been so
far superior to that of all his contemporaries, as to entitle
him to the appellation of “ the mighty hunter before the
Lord.” Hence most commentators have concluded, that he
was a hunter of men ; an opinion which they think receives
some countenance from the import of his name, the word
Nimrod signifying a rebel. Whatever be in this, there
can be little doubt that he became a mighty one by vio¬
lence ; for it appears from Scripture, that he invaded the
territories of Ashur the son of Shem, who had settled in
Shinar ; and, obliging him to remove into Assyria, he seized
upon Babylon, and made it the capital of the first kingdom
in the world. As he had great projects in viewr, it seems
to be in a high degree probable that he made bond-servants
of the captives whom he took in his wars, and employed
them in building or repairing the metropolis of his king¬
dom ; and hence may perhaps be dated the origin of post¬
diluvian slavery.
That it began thus early can hardly be questioned; for°'®v®^
we knowr that it prevailed universally in the age of Abraham, ^rahai
who was born within seventy years after the death of Nim¬
rod. That patriarch had three hundred and eighteen ser¬
vants or slaves, born in his own house, and trained to arms,
with whom he pursued and conquered the four kings who
had taken captive his brother’s son.3 And it appears from
the conversation which took place between him and the king
of Sodom after the battle, that both believed the conqueror
had a right to consider his prisoners as part of his spoil.
“ Give me,” says the king, “ the persons, and take the goods
to thyself.” It is indeed evident from numberless passages
1 The Roman orator’s definition of slavery, Farad. V. is as accurate as any that we have seen. “ Servitus est obedientia fracti am ml
et abjecti et arbitrio carentis suo whether the unhappy person fell into that state with or without his own contract or consent.
* Gen. vi. 4. 1 Gen* xlv-
SLAVERY.
319
avery. of scripture, that the domestics whom our translators call
servants, were in those days universally considered as the
most valuable part of their master’s property, and classed
with Ins flocks and herds.
ithorised That the practice of buying and selling servants thus early
the Mo-begun amongst the patriarchs descended to their posterity,
c law. js known to every attentive reader of the Bible. It was ex¬
pressly authorised by the Jewish law, in which are many
directions how such servants were to be treated. They
were to be bought only of the heathen; for if an Israelite
grew poor and sold himself either to discharge a debt, or to
procure the means of subsistence, he was to be treated not
as a slave ‘lUX, but as a hired servant vaty, and restored to
freedom at the year of Jubilee. Unlimited as the power
thus given to the Hebrews over their bond-servants of hea¬
then extraction appears to have been, they were strictly pro¬
hibited from acquiring such property by any other means
than fair purchase. “ He that stealeth a man and selleth
him,” said their great lawgiver, “ shall surely be put to
death.”1
read over Whilst slavery, in a mild form, was permitted amongst
; whole the people of God, a much worse kind of it prevailed amongst
irld- the heathen nations of antiquity. With other abominable
customs, the traffic in men quickly spread from Chaldea into
Egypt, Arabia, and over all the east, and by degrees found
its way into every known region under heaven.
Of this hateful commerce we shall not attempt to trace the
progress through every age and country, but shall content
ourselves with taking a transient view of it amongst the Greeks
and Romans, and a few other nations, in whose customs and
manners our readers must be interested,
avery One can hardly read a book of the Iliad or Odyssey, with-
iongsttde out perceiving that, in the age of Homer, all prisoners of war
ee s’ were liable to be treated as slaves. So universally wras
this cruel treatmentof captives admitted to be the right of the
conqueror, that the poet introduces Hector, in the very act
of taking a tender and perhaps last farewell of his wife,
when it was surely his business to afford her every consola¬
tion in his power, telling her, as a thing of course which
could not be concealed, that, on the conquest of Troy, she
■Yould be compelled
To bear the victor’s hard commands, or bring
The w'eight of water from Hyperia’s spring..
At that early period, the Phoenicians, and probably the
Greeks themselves, had such an established commerce in
slaves, that, not satisfied with reducing to bondage their pri¬
soners of war, they scrupled not, for supplying their foreign
markets, to kidnap persons who had never kindled their
resentment. In the fourteenth book of the Odyssey, Ulys¬
ses represents himself as having narrowly escaped a snare of
this kind laid for him by a false Phoenician, who had doom¬
ed the hero to Lybian slavery; and as the whole narrative,
in which this circumstance is told, is an artful fiction, in¬
tended to have the appearance of truth to an Ithacan pea¬
sant, the practice of kidnapping slaves could not then have
appeared incredible to any inhabitant of that island.
Such were the manners of the Greeks in the heroic age;
nor were they much improved in this respect at periods of
greater refinement. Philip of Macedonia, having conquered
the Thebans, not only sold his captives, but even took mo¬
ney for permitting the dead to be buried;2 and Alexander,
who had more generosity than his father, afterwards razed the
city of Thebes, and sold the inhabitants, men, women, and
children, for slaves.3 This cruel treatment of a brave peo¬
ple may indeed be supposed to have proceeded, in the first
instance, from the avarice of the conqueror; and in the se¬
cond, from the momentary resentment of a man who was
savage and generous by turns, and who had no command of
his passions. Weshall not positively assign it to other causes;
but from the manner in which the Spartans behaved to their Slavery,
slaves, there is little reason to imagine that, had they receiv-
ed from the Thebans the same provocation with Alexander,
they would have treated their captives with greater lenity.
It has been said, that in Athens and Rome slaves were Slavery
better treated than in Sparta. But in the former city their amongst
treatment cannot have been good, or their lives comfortable, ^ ^°*
when the Athenians relished that tragedy of Euripides in nians*
which Hecuba, the wife of Priam, is introduced as lament¬
ing that she was chained like a dog at Agamemnon’s gate.
Of the estimation in which slaves were held in Rome, we
may form a tolerable notion from the well-known fact, that
one of those unhappy beings was often chained at the gate
of a great man’s house, to give admittance to the guests in¬
vited to a feast. In the early periods of the commonwealth
it was customary, in certain sacred shows exhibited on so¬
lemn occasions, to drag through the circus a slave, who had
been scourged to death, holding in his hand a fork in the
form of a gibbet.4 But we need not multiply proofs of the
cruelty of the Romans to their slaves. If the inhuman com¬
bats of the gladiators admit of any apology on account of
the martial spirit with which they were thought to inspire
the spectators, the conduct of Vedius Pollio must have pro¬
ceeded from the most wanton and brutal cruelty. This man,
wrho flourished not in the earliest periods of the republic,
wThen the Romans were little better than a savage banditti,
but in the polished age of Augustus, frequently threw such
slaves as gave him the slightest offence into his fishponds to
fatten his lampreys; and yet he was suffered to die in peace.
The emperor, indeed, upon coming to the knowledge of his
cruelty, ordered his lampreys to be destroyed, and his ponds
to be filled up; but we do not recollect that any other pu¬
nishment was inflicted on the savage master.
The origin of slavery in Rome w?as the same as in every Origin of
other country. Prisoners of war were of course reduced Roman
to that state, as if they had been criminals. The dictator Slavery.
Camillus, one of the most accomplished generals of the re¬
public, sold his Etrurian captives to pay the Roman ladies
for the jewels which they had presented to Apollo. Fabius,
whose cautious conduct saved his country when Hannibal
was victorious in Italy, having subdued Tarentum, reduced
thirty thousand of the citizens to slavery, and sold them to
the highest bidder. Coriolanus, when driven from Rome,
and fighting for the Volsci, scrupled not to make slaves of
his own countrymen; and Julius Caesar, among whose faults
wanton cruelty has never been reckoned, sold at one time
fifty-three thousand captives for slaves. Nor did the slaves
in Rome consist only of foreigners taken in war. By one
of the laws of the twelve tables, creditors were empowered
to seize their insolvent debtors, and keep them in their
houses till, by their services or labour, they had discharged
the sum they owed. The children of slaves were the pro¬
perty not of the commonwealth, or of their own parents,
but of their masters ; and thus was slavery perpetuated in
the families of such unhappy men as fell into that state,
whether through the chance of wrar or the cruelty of a sor¬
did creditor. The consequence was, that the number of bond-
men belonging to the rich patricians was almost incredible.
Cains Caecilius Isidorus, who died about seven years before
the Christian era, left to his heirs lour thousand one hun¬
dred and sixteen slaves; and Augustus once puttwenty thou¬
sand of his own slaves on board the corn ships.
Though many laws were enacted by Augustus and other Its dura-
patriotic emperors to diminish the powrer of creditors over bon.
their insolvent debtors; though the influence of the mild
spirit of Christianity tended much to meliorate the condi¬
tion of slaves even under Pagan masters; and though the
emperor Hadrian made it capital to kill a slave without a
just reason, yet this infamous commerce prevailed univers-
1 Lev. xxi. 16.
2 Justin, lib. iii. cap. 4>.
Justin et Arrian.
4 Cicero de Div. lib. i. cap. 26.
320
Slavery.
Slavery a-
mongst the
ancient
Germans.
In England
and Scot¬
land.
Slavery
amongst
the Cartha¬
ginians.
SLAVERY.
ally in the empire for many ages after the conversion of
Constantine to the religion of Christ. It was not indeed
completely abolished even in the reign of Justinian ; and
in many countries which had once been provinces of the
empire, it continued long after the empire itself had fallen
to pieces.
Amongst the ancient Germans, it was not uncommon for
an ardent gamester to lose his personal liberty by a throw
of the dice. This was indeed a strong proof of savage man¬
ners ; but the general condition of slaves among those
barbarians seems to have been much better than among the
polished Greeks and Romans. In Germany the slaves were
generally attached to the soil, and only employed in tend¬
ing cattle, and carrying on the business of agriculture ; for
the menial offices of every great man’s house were perform¬
ed by his wife and children. Such slaves were seldom
beaten, or chained, or imprisoned. Sometimes indeed they
were killed by their masters in a fit of sudden passion; but
none were considered as materials of commerce, except those
who had originally been freemen, and lost their freedom by
play.
Such is the account which Tacitus1 gives of slavery
amongst the ancient Germans. The Anglo-Saxons, how¬
ever, after they were settled in this island, seem not to have
carried on that traffic so honourably. By a statute of Al¬
fred the Great,2 the purchase of a man, a horse, or an ox,
without a voucher to warrant the sale, was strictly forbidden.
That law was, doubtless, enacted to prevent the stealing of
men and cattle; but it shows us that so late as the ninth or
tenth century a man, when fairly purchased, was, in Eng¬
land, as much the property of the buyer as the horse on
which he rode, or the ox which dragged his plough. In
the same country, now so nobly tenacious of freedom and
the rights of man, a species of slavery similar to that which
prevailed amongst the ancient Germans, subsisted even to
the end of the sixteenth century. This appears from a
commission issued by Queen Elizabeth in 1574, for inquir¬
ing into the lands and goods of all her bond-men, and bond-
women, in the counties of Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, and
Gloucester, in order to compound with them for their manu¬
mission, that they might enjoy their lands and goods as free¬
men. In Scotland there certainly existed an order of
slaves, or bond-men, who tilled the ground, were attached
to the soil, and with it were transferable from one proprie¬
tor to another, at a period so late as the thirteenth century :
but when or how those villeins, as they were usually called,
obtained their freedom, is a question not yet completely
solved. Colliers and salters were, in the same country, in
a state little removed from slavery, till near the end of the
eighteenth century, when they were manumitted by the Bri¬
tish legislature, and restored to the rights of freemen and citi¬
zens. Before that period the sons of colliers could follow
no business but that of their fathers; nor were they at
liberty to seek employment in any other mines than those
to which they were attached by birth, without the consent
of the lord of the manor, who, if he had no use for their
services himself, transferred them by a written deed to some
neighbouring proprietor.
That the savage nations of Africa were at any period
of history exempted from this opprobrium of our nature,
which spread over all the rest of the world, the enlightened
reader will not suppose. It is indeed in that vast country
that slavery has in every age appeared in its ugliest form.
We have already observed, that about the era of the Tro¬
jan war, a commerce in slaves was carried on between
Phoenicia and Libya; and the Carthaginians, who were a
colony of Phoenicians, and revered the customs, manners,
and religion of their parent state, undoubtedly continued
the Tyrian traffic in human flesh with the inland tribes of Slav
Africa.
With the ancient state of the other African nations we Slaver
are but very little acquainted. The Numidians, Maurita- amonglt
nians, Getulians, and Garamantes, are indeed mentioned bytlle Numi-
the Roman historians, who give us ample details of thedians*
battles which they fought in attempting to preserve their
national independence; but we have no particular account
of their different manners and customs in that age when
Rome was disputing with Carthage the sovereignty of the
world. All the African states of which we know any thing,
were in alliance with one or the other of those rival republics;
and as the people of those states appear to have been less
enlightened than either the Romans or the Carthaginians,
we cannot suppose that they had purer morals, or a greater
regard for the sacred rights of man, than the powerful na¬
tions by whom they were either protected or oppressed.
They would, indeed, insensibly adopt their customs; and
the ready market which Marius found for the prisoners taken
in the town of Capsa, although Sallust acknowledges3 that
the sale was contrary to the laws of war, shows that slavery was
then no strange thing to the Numidians. It seems indeed to
have prevailed through all Africa from the very first peopling of
that unexplored country; and we doubt if in any age of the
world the unhappy negro was absolutely secure of his per¬
sonal freedom, or even of not being sold to a foreign trader.
It has been often said, that the practice of making slaves Slave-trade
of the negroes is of a very modern date; that it owes its with the
origin to the incursions of the Portuguese on the westerncoast of
coast of Africa; and that, but for the cunning or cruelty of61*1"63,
Europeans, it would not now exist, and would never have
existed. It is quite certain, however, that the negroes
themselves, like all other savage tribes, have from ancient
times enslaved their prisoners; and the establishment of a
trade by foreigners in African slaves, may at an early pe¬
riod have tempted them, in some quarters, to make captives
expressly for the purpose of selling them. But Christians
were not the first tempters. It has been proved, that froin
the coast of Guinea a great trade in slaves was carried on
by the Arabs some hundreds of years before the Portuguese
embarked in that traffic. Even the wandering Arabs of the
desert, who never had any friendly correspondence with the
Christians of Europe, have from time immemorial been serv¬
ed by negro slaves. In all probability, indeed, these tribes
have, without interruption, continued the practice of slavery
from the days of their great ancestor Ishmael; and it seems
evident, that none of the European nations had ever seen a
woolly-headed negro till the year ] 100, when the crusaders
fell in with a small party of them near the town of Hebron
in Judaea, and were so struck with the novelty of their ap¬
pearance, that the army burst into a general fit of laughter.4
Long before the crusades, however, we know with certainty
that the natives of Guinea had been exposed to sale in
foreign countries. In 651 the Mohammedan Arabs of
Egypt so harassed the king of Nubia or Ethiopia, who was
a Christian, that he agreed to send them annually, by way
of tribute, a vast number of Nubian or Ethiopian slaves into
Egypt. Such a tribute as this at that time, we are told, was
more agreeable to the khalif than any other, as the Arabs
then made no small account of these slaves.5
On the beginning of this commerce, or the dreadful
cruelty with which it has been carried on to the present
day, it is impossible to reflect without horror; but there is
more consolation, however small, in knowing that its origi¬
nal authors wTere n ot Europeans. The purchase of Guinea
blacks for slaves by foreign nations, commenced ages before
the Portuguese had laid that country open to the intercourse
of Europe. Even after they had made many incursions into
1 De Mor. Germ. 24, 25. 5 Wilkins’ Collection of Laws fr m Ethelbert to Henry III.
* De Bello Jugurth. cap. 91. 4 Malmsbury, fol. p. 83. 5 Modern Universal History, vol. i. p 525.
SLAVERY.
Present
state of
slavery.
Slavery, it, the inhabitants were as regularly purchased for slaves by
^V'^'scme of the adjoining states, as they were afterwards by the
maritime Europeans.
Without prosecuting farther the history of slavery, we
pass to the consideration of its present state in the world,
and, in particular, the revolutions which have taken place in
that worst department of the system which we have been
last occupied in examining.
slavery of Before describing the altered position now held by negro
vhite men. s]avery} jt must be remarked that the slavery of white men
is by no means yet extinct. Details on this subject will be
found in the articles devoted to those countries in which,
under various modifications, bondage still prevails; and
here a sentence or two must suffice for summing up the
result. The nature of that slavery which still prevails
among most Asiatic nations, modified in the Mohammedan
states by some precepts of their religion, but nowhere en¬
tirely extirpated, is familiarly known to most readers, and
information regarding it is sufficiently easy of access. The
branch of it in which Europeans are most nearly interested,
is that atrocious system of piracy which, carried on for cen¬
turies by Algiers and the other Barbary states, filled the
cities of Northern Africa with Christian prisoners, but has
in the present generation been nearly destroyed by the ex¬
ertions of our own government, aided by the subsequent
expeditions of the French. But the snake is scotched
only, not killed; and European captives are still said to
pine in Morocco, Tunis, and Tripoli. In a preceding para¬
graph we have considered the villeinage of the dark and
middle ages as being a species of slavery. There is no
sound reason for regarding it in any other light; and,
however far the serf’s condition may be superior to that of
the slave who belonged to a Roman patrician or a West In¬
dian planter, his servitude is still so utterly repugnant both
to humanity and religion, as to make us ashamed of the
fact that, in a shape not much improved, it exists still in
Christian provinces of northern Europe. The article
Russia has described the status of the boors or unfree
peasants in that empire; and in more than one kingdom
bordering on it, villeinage has never been completely abo¬
lished till our own times.
But slavery in its most horrible shape, long averted by
the spirit of Christianity from those whom Christians were
compelled to consider as their fellow-men, has, in regard
to the unfortunate people of Africa, been maintained with
unrelenting severity by men and nations professing to be
disciples of the gospel. The present age has seen the
truth mightily triumph in reference to this dark blot of the
civilized world ; but the evil is not yet entirely eradicated,
even where its atrocities have been most decisively con¬
demned ; and in several extensive regions of the globe, no
acknowledgment of error has yet been extorted.
Slavery is still lawful over a large part of the American
continent. It extends throughout the empire of Brazil, and
is general in the southern provinces of the United States.
On the declaration of independence, however, seven of the
thirteen British provinces which then formed the confede¬
ration, abolished slavery absolutely ; and the example was
followed by two or three of the rest, as well as bv several
of those afterwards added to the Union. On the whole, in¬
cluding the remnants of bondage in some of the Spanish
republics, it has been calculated that the continent of Ame¬
rica now contains 4,000,000 of black and coloured slaves.
Of these the United States possess about 2,000,000, making
about a sixth part of their whole population; but, as the
slaves are unequally distributed, they amount in several pro¬
vinces to half the number of the free whites, and in some
places make up a much larger proportion. The French
321
Negro
slavery.
Negro
slavery in
North and
50Uth
America.
and Spanish colonies in the West Indies, in which likewise Slavery,
slavery remains unabolished, have a slave population '
amounting to at least 400,000 souls.
For the British colonies, the exertions of benevolent and Slavery in
enlightened men during the last fifty years, have at length the British
effected a mighty change, the history of which can here be colonies,
but too briefly told.
1. Ihe Slave Trace. If the merit of originating the Corn-
great scheme of abolition is to be shared by every one who, mencement
either through word or writing, has expressed convictions effort.s
of the inhuman injustice involved in the slave-trade, or sug- ?r
gested means for its destruction, our list of emancipation-s]a"e^tra(jei
ists would both be long, and would commence at an early
c ate. But the honour of having planned that systematic
co-operation, which alone could effect the end, does clear-
!y beJong to the Society of Friends; and in the series of
efforts by which that religious body heralded the exertions
of our eminent statesmen, the leading part was acted by An¬
thony Benezet, a French protestant, who, educated in Eng-
land, became a Quaker and a citizen of Philadelphia; and
to William Dillwyn, an American, and a member of the
same sect.. The former, besides unwearied personal exer¬
tions, published, in 1762, the work which first attracted in
this country general notice to the slave-trade; the other,
visiting England in 17/4, opened communications between
the American philanthropists and those of our own coun¬
trymen who had already engaged in the same cause
Among these latter, the foremost place belongs to the ho¬
noured name of Granville Sharp.
I his able and excellent man had been induced to interest Granville
himself in a classof questions, which arose about the middle of Sharp and
the eighteenth century. West Indian planters, after havino-1^6 slave
brought negro slaves to England, were accustomed to carry Somerset-
them back to the colonies, or even to sell them to others
for that destination; and the opinion of eminent lawyers
had sanctioned the practice as legal. Instances of crying
hardship aroused the sympathy of individuals: Granville
Sharp rescued several victims; and, in the year 1772, he
obtained a decision of the English judges in the famous case
of the negro Somerset, that, as soon as a slave sets his foot
on English ground, he becomes free.1
At length, in May 1/87, there was instituted in London Society for
a Society for the Suppression of the Slave Trade. Besides the SuP-
Dillwyn and Sharp, its most distinguished member was P'-68*'0'1 01
Thomas Clarkson, a young graduate of Cambridge, who, Trad ^
led to study the subject as the theme of an academical es- 1787
say, had solemnly devoted his life to the cause of negro
emancipation. But the Society immediately numbered
among its supporters several men of rank and influence;
and, among other converts, its founders had gained, even
before their organization, William Wilberforce, then mem¬
ber of Parliament for Hull, and afterwards for Yorkshire.
Although our own days have witnessed a sharp contest in State of
the last stages of those measures, it is not very easy for us to public opi-
conceive the magnitude of the obstacles which then opposed nion.
themselves, even to the most cautious approach towards the
subject. Fear of exposure felt by individuals who knewthem-
selves guilty of malpractices, was aided by fear of pecuniary
ruin, felt by many who had no other reason for dreading in¬
quiry; and, among the public men of the nation, the corrupt
influence of private interests biassed many, while others were
influenced by more honest fears for the effects which change
might have on the prosperity of the colonies. The Society
determined, from the first, to keep the question of slave
emancipation studiously in the background. They pro¬
claimed their aim to be, simply, the abolition of the trade
in slaves; maintaining, and endeavouring to convince the
public, that the slave population of the colonies could be
1 F must be noticed, however, that, a very few years ago, it was decided bv Lord Stowell, that slaves who had gained freedom in this
way aid, on their return to the colonies, become slaves anew.
VOL. XX.
2 S
322
SLAVERY.
Slaverv.
Govern
ment in-
effectually kept up without new importations; and that,
indeed, such importation was in itself not only mjunous to
the real interests of the planters, but eventually pregnant
with ruin to the West India Islands as British dependen¬
cies. These topics, with others appealing more directly to
moral principle and humane feeling, had already been treat¬
ed in various publications, and they were now anxiously
disseminated through the whole of Britain in pamphlets,
newspaper articles, and personal communications; while
the indefatigable Clarkson travelled everywhere collecting
information as to the state of the slave trade.
An excitement was produced which enforced the atten-
mem in- tion of the government; and its results were still farther
quires into aided by the circumstance that Mr. Pitt, who was the inti-
the Slave maje friend and political chief of Wilberforce, had already
Trade' examined the question, and privately declared himself fa¬
vourable to the views of the society. In February 1788,
an order -of the crown directed that a committee of the
Privy Council should inquire into the state of the slave
trade, and its consequences both to Africa, to the colonies,
and to the general trade of the kingdom. Before the end of
that season, there lay on the table of the House of Com¬
mons one hundred and three numerously signed petitions,
praying for the abolition of the traffic in human life.
Slave Mr. Wilberforce’s ill health detaining him in the coun-
Trade try, Mr. Pitt, on the 9th of May 1788, declining to state
mooted by ],js own opinion, moved a resolution that the House would,
Mr. Pitt in earl in the next session? take into consideration the cir-
Parliamentc^stances of the glave trade complained of in the peti¬
tions. This, excepting a motion made by David Hartley
some years before, against slavery in the abstract, was the
first time the subject had ever been mentioned m the Bri¬
tish Legislature. The prayer of the petitions was warmly
supported, and delay opposed by Mr. Fox, Mr. Burke, and
others. In the meantime, a bill was introduced by bir
William Dolben, and carried through both Houses after
virulent opposition, for regulating the burden of the slave-
ships, and otherwise diminishing the horrors of the Middle
Passage, as it was called, between Africa and the West In¬
dian islands. . . , . „ ,
On the 12th of May 1789, Wilberforce made his first speech
in the House upon the subject, introducing twelve resolu¬
tions deduced from the evidence which had been taken be¬
fore the Privy Council. The propositions, all condemna¬
tory of the trade, were supported by Burke, by Fox, by
Granville, and by Pitt, who now declared his opinion un¬
alterable ; but the opponents gained their end of delay, by
obtaining an order for hearing evidence. It was not till
the spring of 1791, that Wilberforce was able to move for
leave to bring in a bill, for preventing the further importa¬
tion of slaves into the colonies in the West Indies. After
a stormy debate, the motion was lost by 88 to 153. Ihe
enthusiasm of the people, and the favourable dispositions of
the legislature, had alike cooled; insurrections of the ne¬
groes had broken out in Dominica, the leaders of the French
revolution had corresponded with some members of the
society, Clarkson had not only visited France, but was the
friend of Brissot; and every means had been used for pre¬
possessing the public against the abolitionists.
But the defeated party bated “ no jot of hope;' and the
public mind became calmer. In April 1792 the House ofCom-
repeattdly mons received from England 330 petitions, and from Scot-
land 187 ; and Wilberforce moved an opinion of the House
that the slave trade ought to be abolished. He was met
by one of the most dangerous enemies of the rneasuie, Mr.
Dundas, afterwards Lord Melville, under whose dexterous
management an amendment for gradual abolition was car¬
ried by a large majority; and a few days afterwards the
House passed a resolution for abolishing the trade in 1795 ;
but in the House of Lords even this tardy justice was
frustrated by a resolution to hear further evidence.
Mr. Wil¬
berforce’s
efforts in
Parliament
In 1793 the House of Commons refused to repeat their Slavery,
resolution of the previous year: in 1795, and each of the
four following years, the motion for abolition was made and Character
lost; and the abolitionists then resolved to wait for better^™
times. And thus a measure, calculated to wipe off m part ^
a foul disgrace from the nation,—a measure supported by
men of all parties and of all sects,—a measure openly and
encouragingly advocated, not only by all the men of highest
talent in the country, but by the minister of the day him¬
self, was defeated, after a struggle which, at the time, was
aptly called the battle of the pigmies against the giants.
Of the sincerity of the other great promoters of the scheme,
no doubt has been expressed; but on Mr. Pitt’s sincerity
there have been thrown very grave suspicions, which it is
not possible entirely to dispel. For, although the charge
of absolute duplicity is sufficiently rebutted, both by his un-
bendin0- character and by his admirable speeches on the ques¬
tion, it Is unaccountable how he, the most peremptory of all
rulers, should not, if he pleased, have forced to silence
those subalterns, who trembled to oppose him in any plan
but this. The proud son of Chatham loved truth and jus¬
tice not a little, but he loved power and place greatly more;
and he was resolved that negro emancipation should not
lose him either a shred of political influence, or a beam of
royal favour.
But the triumph was already at hand. I he excitement
of the war, indeed, still for a time diverted public atten¬
tion ; and, though the principles which had been so con¬
vincingly promulgated were silently making converts eveiy-
where, nothing of importance took place for some years,
except the appearance of a new and most able advocate
in the person of Mr. Stephen, Wilberforce’s friend and bro¬
ther-in-law. In 1804, however, the annual motion of Wil-
berforce was renewed. The first reading of his Bill for
immediate abolition was carried by 124 to 49, the majority
containing all the Irish members; and the votes for the
third reading were 99 to 33. On the second reading ot
the Bill in the House of Lords, it was adjourned, without
a division, till the following session. In that session, (the
spring of 1805,) a new Abolition Bill was thrown out by
the House of Commons on the second reading ; but, in the
same year, a measure of Pitt’s for abolishing, by an Order
in Council, the slave trade in the newly conquered colo¬
nies, which had no charters, was carried into effect without
the smallest resistance. . . . ^ T, ..
The next two years were to witness the final victory. The »
Pitt died; and the ministry of Fox and Lord Grenville
was formed. In June 1806, resolutions proposed by the Trade car.
new ministers, pledging the House of Commons to aboli-rjed) jgoj.
tion “with all practicable expedition,” were carried by
The abo¬
litionists
more than 100 to 41 ; and an address to the king, for ob¬
taining the co-operation of foreign powers, was adopted
without a division. A bill, founded on the resolutions,
was successful in both Houses, and received the royal as¬
sent on the 25th of March 1807. c.
The great measure of the British legislature was imitat-biave
ed, in the first instance, by the United States, who ^ereforeign
next followed successively by the new South American
Republics of Venezuela, Chili, and Buenos Ayres, by Swe¬
den and Denmark, Holland and France. But Spain was
brought no farther than to promise in 1814 that she would
abolish the slave trade in eight years; while Portugal in
1815 abolished to the north of the equator, promising to
abolish finally eight years afterwards, and receiving a sum
of money as the price of her acquiescence. ,
In the meantime, the abolitionists in England soon 'iadofthe Abo
the disappointment to discover, that the law had no sanc']ition Act
tion sufficient for enforcing its provisions; whilst the tact,andim.
that the horrible trade must now, if conducted at all, beprovement
carried on as an act of smuggling, augmented all its miser-onit.
ies, and introduced atrocities not less shocking than those
-
SLAV
Slavery, which had prevailed before the passing of Sir William
Dolben’s carrying act. An energetic remedy was neces¬
sary, and such .an one was suggested by Mr. Brougham,
who, in 1811, introduced a bill, (carried unanimously
through both Houses,) declaring the trade in slaves to be
felony, and punishable with fourteen years’ transportation,
or five years’ imprisonment. After a time, even this de¬
cided measure seemed not decided enough ; an act of 1824
made slave-trading a capital offence, by the name of piracy;
and the recent acts of 1837, for mitigating the criminal
law, have left it punishable with transportation for life.
“ There is every reason to think,” says Lord Brougham,
“ that no British subjects are now, or have for many years
been, directly engaged in this execrable traffic, with the
exception of those belonging to the Mauritius. In that
island it is certain, that, with the connivance, if not under
the direct encouragement, of the higher authorities of the
colony, slave-trading to an enormous extent was for some
years openly carried on.”
Treaties The treaties with foreign powers, crippled by national
vith fo- jealousies, were found equally inefficient with our own law.
e'^f r siT kb's of Spain, one of the two great offenders, after
^having had the meanness to accept, by a treaty of 1817, a
he Slave large sum from our treasury, as the price of his promise to
Trade. abolish his slave-trade on the north of the equator immedi¬
ately, and to put a final stop to the traffic in 1820, had
next the effrontery to refuse all performance of the en¬
gagement for which he had thus received the consideration;
and a vote of abolition, passed by the Cortes in 1822, re¬
mained of course inoperative. The great difficulty,—the
right of one nation’s cruisers to search vessels under the
flag of another power, when suspected of slaving,—was how¬
ever mutually conceded in 1817, between Great Britain on
the one hand, and Portugal and Spain (within the limits em¬
braced in the subsisting treaties) on the other ; and a simi-
f- lar treaty was effected with Holland in the succeeding year.
Faults and But, besides other faults, there were, in our treaties of
Meets of this sort, two main defects, which, of themselves, rendered the
jur treaties wi10ie SyStem of checks quite inoperative. First, the cruisers,
except under our treaty with the Netherlands, had no
power to capture vessels not having slaves on board, al¬
though it might be fully proved that they were slaving-
ships, or even that they had just delivered a cargo. In
consequence of this, not only were notorious slavers fre¬
quently dismissed after examination, but, in several instan¬
ces, which have been fully authenticated, the wretches in
command were known to throw their slaves overboard on a
chase, in the hope of thus removing the only ground on which
their detention could be legally justified. Secondly, con-
^ demned vessels, instead of being broken up, were sold, and,
being fitted for no trade but their own, fell again almost in¬
variably into the hands of the slave-dealers.
New and In neither of these particulars was any improvement ef-
more effee-fected till after the late revolution in France, whose sub-
since jec^s’ s'nce restoration, had begun to rank amongst
1830. ^le raost active of the contraband slave merchants. In
1833 a treaty was concluded between our government and
that of France, by which the breaking up of the vessels
was agreed to; and it was also declared, that all vessels
ascertained by certain equipments to be intended for the
slave trade, might be lawfully detained and confiscated,
even though slaves had not been found on board, nor even
embarked. France and England have since taken the lead
in urging all other Christian powers to accede to these con¬
ventions ; but as yet their success has been far from gene¬
ral. I he five powers with which this country previously
had conventions on the subject have come very reluctantly
into the additional measures; and one of them, namely,
Portugal, has shovra a most disgraceful want of faith in
fulfilling her engagements. The protection of the Portu¬
guese flag was and is sold by the authorities of that govern-
E R Y. 323
ment on the African coast; and miscreants, thus furnished Slavery,
with papers apparently regular, and not having yet receiv-
ed their slave-cargoes, insolently defy our cruisers, or even
prosecute our captains for damages, on account of illegal
detention. Our government, however, have recently shown
a determined front; and we may perhaps hope that the
feeble and faithless power which insults us and outrages
humanity, will at length suffer condign punishment. As
to Spain, between 1823 and 1832, her slavers imported into
Cuba 100,000 slaves at least. The equipment clause was
always refused by the cabinet at Madrid; and it was not
till 1835, after the death of Ferdinand, that our minis¬
ter at that court was able to extort the accession of the
Spanish government to that essential article. The effects
of this new treaty have been exceedingly encouraging:
within six months after its execution, as many Spanish
slavers lay waiting the sentence of our Confiscation Court
at Sierra Leone, as had been taken during any three years
under the previous conventions. The Brazilian govern¬
ment, although professedly anxious to discourage the im¬
portation of new slaves, on account of the danger the
whites already incur from an increasing black population,
have pleaded, with some plausibility, their want of power
to check the trade effectually, so long as the Portuguese
flag shall be allowed to protect the slavers. Sweden and
the Netherlands were not prevailed on to accede to the
French conventions till the year 1838.
Of those powers with which we had previously no agree¬
ment, Denmark and the Sardinian States both acceded in
1834. Prussia has shewn a reluctance, for which it is not
easy to account. The display of the same spirit by Russia
was not so much matter of surprise. Austria, though the
emperor has imitated our laws, declaring any slave free
who touches Austrian ground, and also making the slave-
trade heavily punishable, has acted with its accustomed
jealousy, in refusing co-operation with other states. Tiis-
cany and the Two Sicilies joined the league in 1838. With
the republics of the New World our negociations have
been exceedingly unsuccessful. The United States have
peremptorily refused to combine with any foreign power
for the suppression of the slave-trade ; and, amongst the
Spanish commonwealths, Venezuela is the only one which
has come cheerfully forward, although the objections started
by some of the rest do not seem to be insuperable.
Altogether, those efforts which philanthropists have so Disap-
long continued for removing this blot from the name of pointing re-
Christianity, have not yet by any means produced such su*ts °* fr*5
results as can allow us to believe that the struggle is nearly ™“^ures
at an end. Partly through defects in the machinery of^^f^
the laws and treaties,—partly through dishonesty or luke- the Slave
warmness in the contracting powers or their officials,— Trade,
partly through causes which can never be removed while
the foul shape of slavery itself darkens any corner of the
earth,—the traffic in human blood still goes on with an ac¬
tivity that is incredible to all but those who have studied
the subject. The proofs of this lamentable fact are no¬
where so convincingly stated as in a work on The Afri¬
can Slave Trade, published in 1839, by Mr. Fowell Bux¬
ton, from which we can afford to abstract but a very few
statements, observing, at the same time, that there is not
one of them but is below the truth. According to the
highest of those estimates which have been founded on
assured data, the Christian slave trade still robs Africa
every year of 250,000 human beings. According to the
very lowest computation, it absorbs 150,000. To this
number must be added that of the Mohammedan trade,
which exports at least 50,000 annually; so that we are
much below the mark when we assert, that, in the course
of every year, 200,000 negroes, at least, are carried off into
hopeless slavery. But this is not all. It may be safely
asserted, that, for every slave who is exported, there is
324
SLAVERY.
Slavery, sacrificed one human life, and perhaps much more. Mr.
■**’" y Buxton’s calculation is the following: First, the slaughter
of the wars which supply the slaves, the ill-usage of the
captives on their march, and their sufferings while detained
on the coast, cause together a mortality of 100 per cent.
Secondly, the disease and cruelty of the voyage, now worse
than ever it was, carries off, at the very least, 25 per cent.
Thirdly, the loss after landing in the colonies, and during
what planters used to call the “ seasoning,” amounts to at
least 20 per cent. Upon these assumptions, u for every
1000 negroes alive at the end of a year after their deporta¬
tion, and available to the planter, we have a sacrifice of
1450. Of 150,000 negroes, landed annually in Cuba, Bra¬
zil, &c. 30,000 die in the seasoning, leaving 120,000 avail¬
able to the planter. If 150,000 were landed, there must
have been embarked 37,500 more, who perish in the pas¬
sage; and if 187,500 were embarked, 187,500 more must
have been sacrificed in the seizure, march, and detention.
It is impossible for any one to reach this result, without
suspecting, as well as hoping, that it must be an exagger¬
ation ; and yet there are those who think that this is too
low an estimate.” Putting these facts in another shape,
we find, that the slave trade between Africa and America
subjects annually to the miseries of permanent bondage,
no fewer than 120,000 negroes; whilst, during the same
period, it destroys the lives of 255,000 more.
II. Slavery. But, leaving here the consideration of the
slave trade, we pass to the history of those measures which,
following up its abolition in our own colonies, have destroy¬
ed it effectually as to them, by eradicating slavery itself.
Commence- Immediately on the passing of the act 1807, there was
ment of formed by the abolitionists a new association, which they
measures for cape(j u The African Institution.” Besides objects connect-
emancipa- e(j recent measure, and embracing the tasks of
watching its execution, of prevailing on foreign powers to
imitate our policy, and of aiding in the civilization of Africa,
this body gradually began to bestow great attention on the
state of slavery in our own colonies, having an especial view
to its ultimate abolition, which was afterwards taken up by
the Anti-Slavery Society; for their hopes soon waxed very
low as to that progressive amelioration in the treatment and
even the enlightenment of the slaves, to which some among
them had looked forward as one consequence to flow from
the stoppage of the foreign supply. The abolitionists were
speedily united in the great aim of emancipation; Clarkson
renewed his agitation in the provinces; local societies were
formed every where, and tracts and larger works were circu¬
lated ; while in Parliament, Wilberforce, the apostle of the
cause, was now seconded by Messrs. Brougham, Mackin¬
tosh, Buxton, Lushington, William Smith, and others, in
pressing vainly on the House of Commons the adoption of
measures tending to prepare the slave for eventually obtain¬
ing freedom.
At length the trenches were opened in Parliament; and
ceedings in in this new attack, as in the former, the van was led by the
Parliament Quakers, whose petition for the extinction of slavery was
for eman- presente(j by ]yjr> Wilberforce to the House of Commons in
March 1823. Soon afterwards, a motion by Mr. Buxton, for
a resolution declaring slavery repugnant both to Christian
ity and to the British constitution, was defeated by Mr. Can¬
ning on counter resolutions, recommending certain ne¬
cessary reforms. These and other improvements, it was
asserted, might be safely left to the colonial legislatures; and
the ministry at the same time intimated, that, if the West
Indian Assemblies refused to do their duty, it would become
necessaryfor the British Parliament determinedly to interfere.
That no effectual reforms could proceed from the plan¬
ters themselves, the abolitionists had been long convinced.
The government and their supporters, said they, had for¬
gotten two of the prominent features of society in the West
Indies; the management of estates by agents for absentee
tion of the
negro
slaves.
First pro-
cipation.
proprietors, and that spirit of reckless adventure which was Slavery,
at once a cause and an effect of West Indian embarrassments.
It might have been added, and some had the firmness to
add it, that the planters, supposing them ever so well dis¬
posed, dared not to introduce any such mitigation of rigour
as would afford sufficient protection against individual op¬
pression. The slavery of multitudes was never in any coun¬
try maintained but by the reign of terror; and, when an en¬
slaved population has reached a certain limit in strength and
intelligence, society must inevitably undergo one or anothei
of three changes;—inhumanly increased severity, or univer¬
sal emancipation, or universal revolution.
In 1824, Mr. Canning, who, though he had been a zealous Case of the
abolitionist, acted in regard to the new question a part to- Missionary
tally unworthy of him, defeated, by a ministerial majority, Smith-
Mr. Brougham’s very guarded motion of censure on the au¬
thorities of Demerara for the infamous and cruel injustice
which destroyed the missionary Smith. But the publicity
which the debates in Parliament, in this case, gave to the
atrocities which, although certainly not common in the co¬
lonies or any where upon earth, the colonial laws allowed,
when they did occur, to pass with perfect impunity, did
more than any thing ever yet had done to excite the indig¬
nation of the British people.
The question, in fact, was surprisingly narrowed. When, New state
in 1788, the abolitionists attacked the outwoi’ks which flanked °f p"blic
the edifice of slavery, the fortress itself was pronounced by0?101011,
its defenders to be absolutely impregnable. The good of
the empire, the good of the slave, the principles of all go¬
vernments, the very Bible itself, were appealed to as autho¬
rising the property in human flesh. But now, for many
years, no man had breathed any argument of the sort. It
was plain that emancipation must come, and that speedily;
the parties were only at issue as to the time and the manner.
Even the more intelligent among the planters, wdio saw the
negroes swarming around them in hundreds of thousands,
and already beginning to think dangerously, (that is, justly,)
seem scarcely to have extended their hopes farther than to
obtaining liberal compensation for all their losses, present or
prospective, certain or conjectural. But the attitude which
they chose, almost universally, to assume, was that of defi¬
ance towards the mother-country; and, accordingly, the
right of the Colonial Assemblies to legislate for their own is¬
lands, and the danger which would be incurred by irritating
them, were urged alternately with those other topics, of the
risk of revolution through hasty changes, the unfitness of
the uninstructed negroes to act as freemen, and such other
grounds, which now became the arguments of those who
wished the British Parliament to decline interfering.
Down to the year 1830, how much had been done, either in Revjew of
the chartered colonies, or in those governed immediately by reforms ef-
the crown, for carrying into effect the reforms embodied in the focted m
resolutions of 1823, and in the subsequent recommendations^®
of the government ?—1. For providing the means of educa- co]onies
tion and religious instruction for the slaves, no one effectual from ]g23
measure had been taken in the colonies of either class. The to 1830.
consolidated slave law for the crown colonies, contained in
an Order in Council, dated 8th February 1830, was held out
as an improvement on the Trinidad Order in Council of
4824, and was proposed to the chartered colonies as a mo¬
del for their adoption. It contained no provision for this
purpose. 2. The Sunday markets were abolished in the
crown colonies by the order of 1830, and they were also
abolished by Grenada and Tobago, two of the chartered
islands. The other colonies of this class had expressly le¬
galised them. 3. Even this partial abolition was rendered
useless, by the total omission of any allowance of equivalent
time to the negroes in lieu of Sunday, for marketing or for
cultivating their provision grounds. 4, The new order wise¬
ly made the evidence of slaves admissable in the crown co¬
lonies to the same extent as that of free persons, subject on-
SLAVERY.
slavery, ly to remark on the slave’s status as affecting credibility.
Grenada and Tobago had adopted a similar law; while, in
the other colonies of their class, the admission of slave evi¬
dence was hampered and restricted so much as to make the
grant perfectly useless. 5. In the crown colonies the mar¬
riages of slaves were legalized under certain restrictions ;
in all others such marriages wrere everywhere exposed
to harassing impediments. 6. In the crown colonies the
separation of families had been peremptorilyprovided against,
the order, however, being somewhat vague as to the de¬
scription of persons whom it should embrace. In the char¬
tered colonies the provisions of this kind were universal! yin-
sufficient. 7. I herightofacquiringpropertywasconferred on
the slaves in the crown colonies; on those in the others it
was also conferred, but under limitations which made the
privilege quite illusory. 8. The order in council gave the
slaves the right of redeeming themselves and their families,
at a fair appraisement, even against the will of the owners;
but it imposed, in reference to this grant, several very harsh
conditions. The chartered colonies refused unanimously
to introduce any such compulsory manumission. 9. The
new order most unfortunately omitted that provision in the
Trinidad code, which forbade the master to punish the slave
corporally more than once in twenty-four hours; but it li¬
mited him to twenty-five lashes at a time. This latter en¬
actment was imitated in two or three of the chartered co¬
lonies; and in all the rest the old law remained, which al¬
lowed the master to inflict thirty-nine lashes at once on any
slave, of any age, or of either sex, for any offence, or for
none; and the same law allowed him to imprison in the
stocks or workhouse as long as he pleased. 10. In the
crown colonies there was required a return, as well as a re¬
cord, of arbitrary punishments inflicted on the slaves on the
plantations; but no such check was imposed as to any other
classes, such as mechanics or domestics. In the other co¬
lonies there was no return, and no adequate record. 11.
By the order in council, the flogging of females was abo¬
lished; in every one of the chartered colonies it was still
permitted and practised. 12. The order forbade, though
not in sufficiently explicit terms, the use of the driving-whip
in the field. The legislature of the Bahamas did the same
thing. The other legislatures retained the old instruments
of punishment. 13. Official protectors of the slaves, none
of whom could be slave-holders, were appointed in the crown
colonies. The chartered colonies all refused to appoint such
functionaries; though in some of them the local magistrates
(composed of slave-holders) acted in a similar capacity. 14.
Another proposed reform was, the providing that no slave¬
holder should be appointed to any function connected with
the administration of the slave-laws. The order in council,
though it obeyed this salutary rule in respect to the protec¬
tor, disregarded it as to his assistants, on whom devolved
a great part of his ordinary duty. In the chartered colonies
the rule was little attended to, except in the leading ap¬
pointments made by the crown. 15. It was also proposed
that, in cases involving the status of individuals, the legal
presumption should be for freedom and against slavery.
4 his rule, adopted in the crown colonies, was also imitated
by fobago and Grenada, but by no other chartered island.
16. For purifying the administration of justice, which called
most grievously for amendment, nothing was done in any
colony of either class.
Ju,y 1830, Mr. Brougham brought forward his motion,
fiiifs in ^lat ^le ^0.use should resolve, at the earliest possible period
0-31-32*? next session, to take into consideration the state of the
slaves, in order to the mitigation and final abolition of sla-
veiy, and more especially in order to the amendment of the
a ministration of justice. It was lost by a large majority,
in a very thin House. The great changes in the ministry
soon came on; and, during the eventful years 1831 and 1832,
tne subjects of Great Britain and Ireland had their own bat-
325
ties to fight at home, instead of extending aid to foreign Slavery,
dependents. The only steps taken in that period were, the
issuing of new orders in council by the Whig ministry in
1831, which proved as ineffectual as those of their predeces¬
sors; and the appointment of committees, both in the Lords
and Commons, before both of which a large mass of evi¬
dence was taken.
At length, after the friends of emancipation had repeat- Introduc-
.ly pressed the ministry to redeem their pledge of bring-tion of the
ing forward a government measure, the ministerial proposi-measure ^oc
tion was introduced in May 1833, by Mr. Stanley, then se-the abfolj*
cretary for the colonies. The parts of the resolutions on y”1'0103^
which the emancipationists were most divided were two ; ’
first, the plan of an intermediate state, called an apprentice¬
ship, into which the slave was to be received on his manu¬
mission, and which, according to the first draft of the mea¬
sure, was to last for no less than twelve years ; secondly,
the pioposal of compensation to the slave-owners, which,
brought forward at first hesitatingly, at last developed itself
into a giant of twenty millions sterling. On the principle
of compensation most men were agreed; there was guilt, it
is tiue, in the very act upon which the claim was grounded,
but the nation was a thousand times guiltier than the plant-
eis, and it would have ill become us to make the minor of¬
fenders the only sufferers. The amount and application of
the giant were matters less certain. On the question of the
apprenticeship there was much more room for doubt; and
the most consistent opponents of slavery were decidedly
against it. Lord Howick, the under secretary for the colo¬
nies, threw up his place rather than advocate it; and it was
strenuously resisted in the House by him, Mr. Buxton, and
Mr. O'Connell, whose opposition, however, was defeated by
an overwhelming majority. Among those who advocated the
great principle of the resolutions, the most prominent were,
besides the members already named, Mr. Buckingham, Dr.
Lushington, Admiral Fleming, and Mr. T.B. Macaulay. The
opposition, which scarcely amounted to more than exhorta¬
tions to caution, with insinuations of insurmountable difficul¬
ties, was headed temperately and skilfully by Sir Robert Peel,
whose most decided supporters were, Sir Richard Vyvyan,
Mr. Godson, Mr. W. E. Gladstone, and Mr. Hume. No di¬
vision was attempted on any question involving the principle.
The resolutions, on being communicated to the House of
Lords, where they were carried without a vote, were sup¬
ported by the Earl of Ripon, Lord Suffield, Earl Grey, and
Lord Chancellor Brougham, and cautiously opposed by the
Duke of Wellington, the Earl of Harewood, Lord Ellen-
borough, and Lord Wynford.
A bill was next brought forward, founded on the resolu¬
tions. In the discussion on this bill in the Commons, the most
important change effected was, the limitation of the appren¬
ticeship to the term of six years for the plantation-negroes,
and four for all others. In the House of Lords, the amend¬
ments unsuccessfully proposed by the Duke of Wellington
were moderate in themselves, and candidly advocated. On
the 28th of August 1833, William the Fourth, giving his
royal assent to the act, atoned in some measure for the op¬
position which, in his early days, he, in common with his
whole family, except the Duke of Gloucester, had offered
to the abolition of the slave trade. William Wilberforce died
while the resolutions preparatory to the bill were at their
last stage in the House of Commons.
The leading provisions of the great measure for the abo¬
lition of slavery were the following.
The act was to take effect on the first day of August Summary
1834, on which day slavery was to cease throughout the°ftl,eact
British colonies. And, in the first place, all registered for abobsl1'
slaves, who should at that date be within any of our colo-!ng'^la»er.y
nies, and should appear to be six years old and upwards,
were to become “ apprenticed labourers” to those wffio had ni0n8.
been their owners in slavery; while slaves who had been
326 SLAVERY.
Slavery, already brought, or apprenticed labourers who hereafter
might be brought, into the United Kingdom, with the con¬
sent of their possessors, were to be absolutely free from the
date of the act. The apprentices were divided into three
classes. The first two classes, called “ praedial apprenticed
labourers,” comprised all slaves “ usually employed in agri¬
culture, or in the manufacture of colonial produce,” upon
the lands in the colonies; the first class being slaves of
this sort, who were usually employed on lands belonging to
their owners, and who were declared to be “ attached to
the soilthe second class, declared to be “ not attached
to the soil,” being such slaves as were similarly employed
on lands not belonging to their owners. The third class,
called “ non-prsedial apprenticed labourers,” embraced all
slaves not included in either of the two other classes. The
apprenticeship of the first and second classes was not to
continue beyond the first day of August 1840; and such
apprentices were not to be liable, in virtue of their appren¬
ticeship, to labour for their employers for more than forty-
five hours in any one week. The apprenticeship of the
third class was not to continue beyond the first day of Au¬
gust 1838. Voluntary discharges by the employers, before
the expiration of these periods, were allowed, under provi¬
sions to secure old and infirm apprentices against destitu¬
tion ; and the apprentice was to be entitled to claim his
discharge, even against his employer’s consent, on payment
of the appraised value of his services. No apprentices were
to be removed from the colony to which they belonged ;
and those of the first class were not to be removable even
from their own plantation, except that they might be re¬
moved to other plantations of the same owner in the same
colony, on a certificate of justices of the peace that the re¬
moval would not injure their health or welfare, nor separate
members of the same family. Under similar restrictions
and conditions, the services of the apprentices during their
term were to be transferable property. It was conditioned
that the employers were to furnish the apprentices with
food, clothing, lodging, and other necessaries, according to
the existing laws of the several colonies, and to allow them
sufficient provision-ground, and time for cultivating it, in'
cases where that mode of maintenance was adopted. Chil¬
dren born upon or after the first of August 1834, as also
all those under six years of age at that date, although they
became at once free, might, if proved destitute to the sa¬
tisfaction of a magistrate, be bound out by the magistrate
as apprentice to the employer of the mother, by indenture,
to continue in force till the child had completed its twenty-
first year. For giving effect to the act. the crown was de¬
clared entitled to name, or to authorise governors of colo¬
nies to name, justices of the peace by special commission,
and to give salaries not exceeding L.300 a-year, to such
justices, not exceeding one hundred in all.
The act limited itself to general principles, such as those
now specified, declaring that, for carrying the principles
into effect, enactments by the several local authorities were
the most proper means ; and it therefore provided for hav¬
ing such regulations made by the local legislatures for the
colonies which had charters, and by the king in council for
the crown colonies. It was provided, however, that no such
local acts were to authorise the employers, or any one but
the special justices, to punish the apprentices by whipping,
beating, imprisonment, or addition to the hours of labour;
and that they were not to authorise corporal punishment of
females on any account, or by sentence of any court. The
special justices were made exclusive judges, in the first in¬
stance, in all questions between the employer and the ap¬
prentices ; and no sentence was to impose as punishment
extra-work for more than fifteen hours in any week, nor
prolongation of apprenticeship, except in the case of run¬
aways, whose prolonged service should not be compellable
after the termination of seven years from the end of the ap¬
prenticeship. No apprentice was, whether under the act, Slavery,
or by way of punishment, or otherwise, to be compelled to
labour on Sundays, except for certain necessary purposes;
and none was to be prevented from attending anywhere on
Sundays for worship at pleasure.
The remaining sections of the act provided for the rais¬
ing and application of the twenty millions of compensation-
money. The sum might be raised by loans, under the
usual restrictions on the government; and commissioners,
not fewer than five, were to be appointed by the crown for
distributing it, while assistant commissioners were to act
for the same purpose in the colonies. No money was to
be payable to any slaveholder in any colony, until it should
have been declared by an order in council, that satisfactory
provision had been made by law in such colony, for giving
effect to the act by special or supplementary regulations.
The whole money was to be divided into nineteen shares,
one for each of the colonies, each share being proportional
to the number of registered slaves in the colony, taken in
connection with the market-price of slaves in each colony,
on an average of eight years ending with 1830.
In virtue of this act, upon the first of August 1834, pr0ceed-
nearly 800,000 negroes became nominally free ; but both ings taken
the friends and the opponents of emancipation watched under the
with much anxiety what would be their conduct duringact*
that probationary state which it had been deemed proper
for them to pass through,—a state which, by the very
removal of some evils, opened the way for certain others,
and which, while it gave increased protection against
some kinds of oppression, left the negroes more helpless
against severities and neglect of other kinds. Two subse¬
quent acts of Parliament provided as far as possible against
abuse; and, although many conflicting accounts have
reached this country, there does seem to be no sufficient
reason for believing that the treatment of the apprentices
was really in any material respect worse than it had been dur¬
ing their slavery ; while there appears to be as little reason
for doubting, that the slaves in general conducted themselves
with thankfulness and decency on their change of condition.
But in different islands the policy of the local legislature Shortening
was very various. Many of the colonists were as well satisfied of the ap-
as the most zealous members of the Anti-Slavery Society, Prfntlce-
that the apprenticeship was wrong and dangerous. Anti-®*”?
gua had the honour of leading the way in making this °pi' wis.
nion operative. The legislature of that island declined tojatureSi
take advantage of the apprenticeship at all; its slaves were
emancipated at once, and “ on Christmas-day 1834, for the
first time these thirty years, martial law was not proclaimed
in Antigua.” Bermuda followed the example, which was
next imitated by the small isles, and afterwards by the great
island of Barbadoes. Stillsomecoloniesheldout, with Jamaica
at their head; and, particularly from this island, there reach¬
ed us not only threatening resolutions of the Assembly, but
reports of extreme severities towards the slaves, and of decid¬
ed hostility to the stipendiary magistrates; while one or two of
the colonies would not even condescend, for several years, to
take such steps as the act declared to be necessary for entitling
their landholders to payment of the compensation-money.
In the spring of 1838, the question of immediate aboli¬
tion of the apprenticeship was stirred, on those and other
grounds, in both Houses of Parliament. Lord Brougham’s
motion to this effect, supported by Lord Lyndhurst and
others, was met by the previous question. Sir George
Strickland’s, in the House of Commons, was also negatived ;
and, although a similar resolution was afterwards carried in
the Commons, the ministry intimated that they would throw
every obstacle in the way of any measure founded on it, andFinal an“
the attempt was therefore given up. comp„!!,ea
But the colonists were warned in time, by the spirit which tion 0f tbe
reigned here, and by that which appears to have been rising negroes,
among the negroes. They proceeded forthwith to aboli- 1838.
Slavery.
Results of
emancipa¬
tion.
SLA
SLA 327
tion ; and, on the 1st of August 1838, there was not a slave
left in any British colony, except the Mauritius alone, in
which instructions from the home government have since
carried the enfranchisement into effect. (w. s.)
From authentic official returns published during the last
year or two regarding the state of the West India Islands,
it appears that on the whole the state of free labour and of
free trade, which the inhabitants now enjoy, have not only
increased the production of sugar, but have materially in¬
creased the domestic and social comforts of the coloured
population of those islands. It appears from a Sugar Return
of 1858, that while in the last two complete years of slavery,
viz., 1832 and 1833, the exports of sugar from the West
Indies to great Britain was 8,471,744 cwt., while the
exports for the two recent years of 1856 and 1857 are
8,736,654 cwt. These returns are limited to Great Bri¬
tain alone, no account being taken of the recent and very
promising trade with Australia and the United States.
Exclusive of Jamaica and the Mauritius, the remaining
fifteen islands of the West Indies produced during 1855,
1856, 1857, 7,427,618 cwt., while the same islands pro¬
duced during the last three years of slavery, 7,405,849 cwt.
of sugar.
The Mauritius has had the advantage of a large im¬
portation of coolies, by whom the sugar has been mainly
produced. One of the signal benefits of emancipation is
that it opens up a free entrance to all and sundry who
choose to take their chance of getting employment for them¬
selves or comfort for their families. Jamaica, again, has
long been in a state of great financial disorder and general
mismanagement. This is the verdict of Sir Henry Barkly
and of Sir Charles Grey. The recent changes which have
been introduced have already shown a marked improve¬
ment in the exports and imports of the colony ; but it will
require long years of very careful and cautious government
to set Jamaica abreast of the other islands of the West
Indies. “ Flourishing,” “ most satisfactory,” “ highly
flourishing,” and so forth, are the reports from the labour
markets of the various islands. Detailed extracts regard¬
ing the present condition of the West India Islands may
be seen in “ An Inquiry into the Results of Emancipation,”
published in the April number of the Edinburgh Review
for 1859. There is one fact which shows the sound com¬
mercial state of the West Indies, namely, that in 1857,
the year of the severe commercial crisis, the Colonial Bank
received bills amounting to L. 1,300,000, and less than
L.8000 were returned. There was no failure during that
year in the West India trade; and coffee, cotton, wool,
sugar, rum, cocoa, were all exported in increased quantities.
The exports of Great Britain alone, as shown by the Trade
and Navigation Accounts for 1858, to the West Indies,
have averaged more than half a million over the preceding
ten years. These official statistics go to prove that the
West Indies are rapidly advancing in wealth and prosperity
since the year of their emancipation. The general charac¬
ter and habits of the people are likewise improved. From
two to three hundred villages have gone up by the un¬
aided exertion of the negroes in the island of Jamaica
alone, and upwards of 100,000 acres of land have been
purchased in that island by the colonial inhabitants. The
legislative Assembly of Jamaica, which counts some fifty
members, is likewise graced by some ten or a dozen gen¬
tlemen of colour, and they have found their way into the
police force, among the officers of the penitentiary, of the
courts of justice, among the barristers, and among the magis¬
tracy. Education is gradually making way, and crime of
an atrocious character is very rare in these islands. There
can be but one opinion regarding the results of emancipa¬
tion entertained by any man who will dispassionately in¬
vestigate the condition of the coloured populations in the
West Indies ; and that opinion will redound in the highest
degree to the sagacity as well as the generosity of those
who then advocated the deliverance of the slave. England,
by freeing her slaves, performed a politic as well as a very
just act. Men may now find practically exemplified what
was frequently scouted in the heat of the debates on eman¬
cipation, that however wildly theoretical, or absurdly phil-
anthropical the position might then appear, the past twenty
years have demonstrated, that when a nation has courage
to be just, it need have no fear in the long run of its com¬
mercial prosperity.
SLAVONIA, or Sclavonta, Kingdom of, a portion of
the Austrian empire, formerly incorporated with Hungary,
but now forming along with Croatia a separate crown-land.
It consists of a narrow strip of land, bounded on the 1^. by
Hungary, from which it is separated by the Drave ; E. by
the Servian Woiwodina, on the other side of the Danube;
S. by the Military Frontier, except for a very small distance
where it borders on Croatia. Length about 150 miles ;
greatest breadth, 30; area, 2988 square miles. If it were
not that a long narrow track on the south is occupied by
the Military Frontier, Slavonia might be said to occupy
the whole land between the Drave, Danube, and Save ;
and to be definitely limited on three sides by these great
rivers. But, as it is, only the two former touch it at all;
and its southern as well as its western frontier is left to be
marked out by artificial lines rather than by any natural
feature of the country. Slavonia is traversed from W. to
E. by a branch of the Carnic Alps, which divides the af¬
fluents of the Drave from those of the Save. The hills are
not very high, the loftiest summit, Mount Papuk, towards
the west of the country, being only 2700 feet above the
Danube ; but they have in many places sharp peaks, and
descend abruptly on either side. The central ridge is suc¬
ceeded by an undulating expanse of hill and dale ; and that
again by low level tracts along the rivers’ banks. Besides
the rivers which form its boundaries, Slavonia is watered
by other streams, but these are few and of small size. 1 he
Karasicza flows into the Drave, the Buka into the Danube,
and the Olyava into the Save. The mountains are com¬
posed entirely of limestone, except in a few places where
serpentine and porphyry occur. They are, for the most
part, covered with forests of excellent timber up to the
very summits. The soil of the country is of very great
fertility; the lower hills are covered with orchards, vine¬
yards, and corn-fields; and the plains along the margin of
the rivers form wide and rich meadows. Some portions,
however, of these lower grounds are marshy and unhealthy.
The climate is mild, and many tropical fruits thrive here.
Wheat, rye, oats, barley, and other grains, as well as wine,
tobacco, hemp, flax, and madder, are raised. 1 he best
wine is that of the district of Syrmia, in the extreme east
of Slavonia. This, which also goes by the name of Kar-
lowitz, is for the most part red, and similar to that of Hun¬
gary. The district of Syrmia derives its name from the
ancient Sirmium, which was once the chief city in Pan-
nonia; and the culture of the vine was first introduced into
this country by the Emperor Probus, a native of Sirmium,
in the third century a.d. Fruit is grown in great abun¬
dance in Slavonia, and there is a beverage made from plums
which forms a favourite drink of the people. 1 he people
are chiefly employed in agriculture and the breeding of
live stock, especially hogs, which are fed in the forests.
Large herds of cattle and horses are also kept on the mea¬
dows. The mineral wealth of Slavonia is very great, but
little developed. Copper, argentiferous lead, iron, and fine
marble, exist here in abundance, though worked only to a
very limited extent. Indeed, nature has done very much
more than art or industry for the country. Few manufac¬
tures are carried on, except those of glass, earthenware,
and potash. The chief articles of export are the raw pro-
Slavonia.
\
328
S L E
S L I
Sleidan.
Sleaford duce of the land ; cattle and pigs, hides, grain, tobacco,
madder, honey and wax, timber, See. In exchange for
these articles there are imported iron, salt, and oil. There is
^ also a considerable transit trade; and the internal communi¬
cations are facilitated by good roads. Slavonia is divided
into two counties, Essek and Posega, and is subject to the
government of the crown-land, which has its seat at Agram.
In this town also are the supreme courts of law for Slavo¬
nia. Most of the inhabitants are either of Slavonian or
of Servian origin; and in religion the great majority are
Roman Catholics; only a few belong to the Greek, the
Reformed, or the Lutheran Church. The country an¬
ciently formed part of the province of Pannonia; and its
earliest inhabitants, as far as we know, were a Celtic tribe,
called Scordisci. Subsequently it was occupied by the
Pannonians, a race probably of Illyrian origin. During
the barbarian migrations, the land was overrun now by one
and now by another tribe, and at length remained in the
possession of die Avars. These, however, were conquered
about the end of the eighth century by Charlemagne, who
settled in their place a tribe of Slavonians from Dalmatia.
After their settlement in this country the Slavonians re¬
ceived the knowledge of Christianity ; and two Byzantine
ecclesiastics, Cyril and Methodius, entered the land as
missionaries in 864. The latter became afterwards bishop
of Sirmium. When, in the tenth century, the Hungarians
conquered Pannonia, they also made themselves masters of
the whole of Slavonia, except Syrmia, which still remained
subject to the eastern emperors. It was, however, the ob¬
ject of contention, and the scene of bloody conflicts between
the Greeks and the Hungarians, until after various vicis¬
situdes, it was finally ceded to the latter in 1165. From
1526, when it was conquered by the Turks, Slavonia re¬
mained in their possession till it was restored to Hungary
by the peace of Carlovitz in 1699. In 1734 its size was
diminished by the formation of the Military Frontier,
and in 1848 it was separated from Hungary. Pop. (1854)
252,414.
SLEAFORD, New, a market-town of England, in the
county of Lincoln, on the river Slea, 18 miles S. by E. of
Lincoln, and 115 N. by W. of London. It is a neat and
prosperous place, consisting of three well-paved streets.
The parish church is remarkable for its antiquity and its
architecture. It is a large cruciform edifice, and was
founded in 1271. The oldest portion, consisting of a tower
at the west end, is in the early English style; the spire is
of later date; the chancel is in the perpendicular; the
aisles and transept in the decorated style ; and each of the
parts in its own way is very good. Sleaford has also places
of worship for Independents and other sects, a grammar
school, national schools, and an hospital. The town-hall is
a handsome modern building. Quarter sessions and a
county court are held here. Pop. 3729.
SLEIDAN, Johann, the popular name of Johann
Philipson, received from Sleida, near Cologne, where he
was born in 1506. Passing from the gymnasium of his
native town, he studied successively at Liege, Cologne,
Louvain, Paris, and Orleans. The main drift of his
studies had been directed to the law, but disliking the
practice of the bar, he had allowed a considerable share of
his attention to be drawn into classical channels. He had
an opportunity of distinguishing himself in 1535, at the
diet of Haguenau, and at the diet of Ratisbon, whether he
had been induced to proceed by the recommendations of
the French minister, Cardinal du Bellay, and by Francis
I. of France. Sleidan did not remain long, however, under
royal patronage. Having secretly adopted the Lutheran
doctrines, he was compelled to quit the service of the first
Francis in 1542. Retiring to Strasburg, he was appointed
by the Protestant princes historian of the league of Schmal-
kald, and subsequently he was made professor of law by
the council of that town. In 1545 he was employed in Sleswick
negotiations with France and England. While residing in ||
the latter country he married an Englishwoman. On his
return to Strasburg, he was sent as a deputy in 1551 to
the council of Trent. On the dissolution of this assembly
in 1552, Sleidan returned to Strasburg, where he enjoyed
a pension which had been settled on him some time pre¬
viously, and engaged in various politico-religious negotia¬
tions. Sleidan is now chiefly remembered by his faithful
and accurate work, which has been lauded more than once,
both by friend and foe, and which was first published in
1555. It is written in a style of simple and elegant La-
tinity, and has been the source whence historians and
churchmen have drawn the materials of their remarks on
the Reformation in Germany since his time. The addition of
a book found among Sleidan’s papers, after his death, aug¬
ments the work to twenty-six books in all, and comprises the
period from 1517 till 1556. It bears the title of Commen-
tarii de Statu Religionis et Reipuhlicce Carolo V The
best edition is that of Bohm, Frankfurt, 3 vols., 1 785-86.
The work quickly appeared in German, Italian, French,
and English. I here have been two English versions of it,
one in 1560 by John Daws, another in 1689 by G. Bohum.
Sleidan’s other works were his De Quatuor Summis Im-
periis, 1556; Froissart’s Chronicles in Latin, 1611; the
Memoirs of Philip de Commines in Latin, 1548; and his
Opuscula, which appeared in 1608. The death of his wife
in 1555 plunged Sleidan into an abyss of melancholy,
from which he was only delivered by death on the 31st De¬
cember 1556.
SLESWICK. See Schleswig.
SLIDING-RULE, a mathematical instrument, used to
work questions in gauging, measuring, and the like, with¬
out the use of compasses, merely by sliding the parts of
the instrument one past another, the lines and divisions
of which give the answer by inspection. This instrument
is variously contrived and applied by different authors,
particularly Everard, Coggeshall, Gunter, Hunt, and Par¬
tridge ; but the most common and useful are those of Ever¬
ard and Coggeshall.
SLIGO, a maritime county in the north-west of Ireland,
and the province of Connaught, bounded on the north by
the Atlantic Ocean, on the east by Leitrim, on the south¬
east by Roscommon, and on the south and west by Mayo.
It extends from N. Lat. 53. 54. to 54. 28., and from W.
Long. 8. 10. to 9. 10.; being 38 miles in its greatest length
from north to south, between Mullaghmore Head and Lough
Gara, and 41 in breadth from west to east, between Ard-
naree and the junction of the three counties of Sligo, Ros¬
common, and Leitrim, and comprehending an area of 721
square miles, or 461,753 acres ; of which 290,696 are arable,
151,723 uncultivated, 6,134 in plantations, 460 in towns,
and 12,740 under water.
According to Ptolemy the geographer, this district was
inhabited by the tribe of the Nagnatae, whose chief city,
Nagnata, is supposed to have been situated somewhere in
the vicinity of the town of Sligo. It afterwards formed
part of the kingdom of Connaught, one of the five into
which the island was divided previously to the arrival of
the English, in the reign of Henry II. Subsequently, it
came into the possession of one of the family of the O’Co-
nors, kings of Connaught, who was called O’Conor Sligo,
to distinguish him from the other chieftains of the same
family ; and under him the heads of the septs of O’Bean,
O’Doud, O’Gara, O Hara, M‘Donogh, and M‘Firbis, were
subordinate chieftains in their respective districts. After a
protracted struggle between the natives and the English, it
fell into the hands of the De Burgos, who, either by force
or treaties, had made themselves masters of the greater
part of the ancient kingdom of Connaught. When the
province was made shire-ground by Elizabeth, in 1569,
SLIGO.
Sligo. Sligo formed one of the seven counties into which it was
divided ; but so far from being thus rendered amenable to
the jurisdiction of that queen, it became the theatre of
several conflicts in the war against O’Heil, chieftain of Ty¬
rone, in the latter part of Elizabeth’s reign. The most re¬
markable of these was that with Sir Conyers Clifford, who,
iu attempting to pass into the county from Roscommon with
a body of from 1500 to 2000 men, in order to relieve Bel-
leek, was attacked in a defile of the Curlew Mountains by
O’Roark, chieftain of Breffney, was himself killed, and his
troops were driven back with considerable loss. During the
civil wars of 1641, the Irish kept possession of the open
country until nearly its close, when they were reduced to
submission by the parliamentary forces under Ireton. In
the subsequent war of 1688, the county was held by the
forces of King James for some time, but ultimately yielded
to the victorious arms of William III. The French force
which landed at Killalla under General Humbert in 1798,
had a severe skirmish at Coloony with the Limerick militia,
commanded by Colonel Vereker, afterwards Viscount Gort,
which ended in the retreat of the latter.
The county includes an extensive and irregular line of
sea-coast along its northern border, in which are the bays
of Classyvaun and Milkhaven in the north, and Brown Bay,
which branches into the smaller and less frequented inden¬
tations of Drumcliff, Sligo, and Ballysadare Bays. Killala
Bay, to the west of the county, belongs also to Mayo. The
island of Innismurray, of which Viscount Palmerston is the
proprietor, lies about five miles off the northern coast, being
separated from the mainland by a passage dangerous, except
in moderate weather, from the number of reefs of rocks
under water. The island itself rises precipitously on the
ocean side, but shelves gradually downwards on that of
the land : there is but one practicable landing-place.
The whole surface extends over 209 acres, of which about
120 are arable, affording pasturage to a few cattle and sheep.
There is also some bog. The inhabitants depend chiefly on
the fishery, which in most seasons is abundant. The place
is specially remarkable for a small chapel or cell, celebrated
for an image of its patron, St Molasse. Near the chapel is
a singular relic, called the cursing-stone, so named from a
superstitious opinion of its efficacy in punishing guilt if ap¬
pealed to according to an established form. The island is
also a favourite burial-place, and was formerly the seat of
extensive illicit distillation.
Mountains. The land rises into mountains of considerable height in
the northern extremity of the county. The principal of
these are the singularly formed limestone elevation of Ben-
bulben, 1722 feet high, and Knocknarea, near the town of
Sligo, which, however, is only 1078 in height, but standing
in remarkable contrast to the rugged gneiss mountains which
lie around it. King’s Mountain, 1965 ; Gullogherboy, 1430 ;
and Truskmore, part of which is in Leitrim, 2113. In the
west are the ranges of the Slieve, Gamph, and Ox Moun¬
tains, the highest points of which are 1321 and 1600 feet,
respectively. In the east, Keshcorran and Carrowkeel rise
to the heights of 1183 and 1062 feet. The Curlew Moun¬
tains, in the south-east, between Roscommon and Sligo, rise
only to the height of 863 feet. The principal rivers are the
Moy, which forms the western boundary, separating the
county from Mayo, and emptying itself into Killala Bay ; it
is navigable to Ballina, six miles inland, for vessels of ten
feet draught; the Tinned ; the Easkey ; the Ballybeg ; the
Dunneill; the Ballysadare river, with its branches the Owen-
more, Owenbeg, and Arrow, or Unshin, and the Garogue,
a short but rapid stream, rising in Lough Gill, and passing
through Sligo town into the bay of the same name. All
these rivers have their sources within the county. The
lakes are numerous, and several of them large and highly
picturesque. Lough Gill, the most northern, spreads over
3130 acres, besides a small portion in Leitrim ; its western
VOL. xx.
329
side is richly planted, and in it are ten islands, the largest Sligo,
of which are Church Island, 41 acres, and Cottage Island i J
13. The scenery on the shores of this lake is highly roman¬
tic and picturesque, more especially in the neighbourhood
of Hazlewood, the residence of the Right Honourable John
Wynne. Lough Arrow, in the east, 3010 acres, is of very
irregular form, and contains several islands. Loch Gara,
in the south-east, 3683 acres, is also studded with small
islands. Lough Talt, in a basin of the Ox Mountains, sur¬
rounded by projecting cliffs, occupies 300 acres, and is 455
feet above sea-level; it is remarkable for its abundance of
trout, which vary in shape and flavour in various parts of
the lake. Lough Easkey, 337 acres, lies in the same moun¬
tain-range ; Templehouse lake contains 356 acres; Cloona-
cleigha, 177. Smaller lakes are numerous in various parts
of the county.
1 he carboniferous, or mountain limestone, including the Geology,
lower limestone, calp or black shale series, and the upper
limestone, forms the basis of by much the greater portion
of the county. A small tract of the yellow sandstone
shows itself in the extreme north, as also on the north
and east of Lough Gara, whence it extends into Mayo.
Ihe old red sandstone appears in two masses near Lough
Arrow, the southern and larger portion plunging deeply into
the adjoining county of Leitrim. A very small portion of
the granite formation, which lies between Lough Conn and
Foxford, enters the county, giving place to a broad belt of
trap porphyry, bounded by a narrow fringe of old red sand¬
stone, and stretching in a north-eastern direction, along the
line of the Ox Mountains to Ballysadare Bay; a mass of
granite protrudes through the middle of this formation. To
the south of the same bay, and west of Ballysadare town, is
a small field of quartz rock. The sandstone in some tracts
assumes an appearance which gave rise to the opinion that
coal existed under it, but, on making the experiment, the
hopes of the speculator were always disappointed. Iron was
procured in large quantities, particularly at the base of the
Ox Mountains, until the timber used as fuel for smelting
was exhausted. Sulphate of copper and iron pyrites are
frequently found in small pieces; and pure copper occa¬
sionally in the beds of some of the rivers. Manganese has
also been found in various places, and clay suitable for
coarse pottery near Lough Gill.
The climate, owing to the proximity of the sea and the Climate,
lofty tracts of mountains with which the county is inter¬
sected, is moist, and the weather extremely variable, the
atmospheric changes being so frequent and sudden as often
to render the barometer an unsatisfactory test of the wea¬
ther. The soil, in the mountainous districts, is a light
sandy loam on a freestone bottom, interrupted by large
patches of bog, and often overspread with a thin coat of
turf-mould. In the low country it is rich and deep, rest¬
ing on a substratum of limestone, and suitable to the growth
of every kind of agricultural produce. In many parts, a
superior stratum, called by the people lac-leigh, or the gray
flag, is found incumbent on the limestone bottom. It is
principally composed of silicious marl, in a state so compact
as to be impenetrable to water; thus, by preventing the
drainage of the surface, opposing what was for some time
deemed an insurmountable obstacle to the successful cul¬
ture of the land. But it was afterwards discovered, that
deep trenching, so as to cut through the adhesive layer, not
only served to carry off the water effectually, which now
passed freely through the subjacent limestone gravel, but
to add to the fertility of the soil; the marl, when broken
up and mixed with the surface mould, proving a valuable
compost. Timber was abundant, until destroyed by the
consumption of it required for the iron-works, and by its
lavish use for domestic and agricultural purposes, without
any regard to the formation of a fresh supply. That the
land is capable of furnishing plenty of this valuable article
2 t
330
SLIGO.
Sligo.
is evident from the manner in which young forest-trees of
various kinds shoot up in the mountainous districts, and in
the escars which traverse the county in various diiections,
checked in their growth only by want of due care to pro¬
tect the young shoots from the depredations of cattle. But
this defect in die picturesque and agricultural character of
the surface is diminishing. The attention of the principal
landholders has been directed to the increase of forest tim¬
ber, and numerous plantations are to be seen round the
mansions and villas of the gentry, particularly on the bor¬
ders of the beautiful lakes which grace the landscape. The
prevalence of western gales from the Atlantic forbids the
full growth of trees near the shore, except the willow and
sycamore. Arbutus of small size grows freely in most
parts, as does the myrtle in the more favoured aspects.
Many parts of the beach along the sea-shore are covered
with a coraline sand, interspersed with numerous beds of
oyster-shells of considerable extent. These beds are also
found in some parts of the interior, at elevations of more
than 50 feet above high-water mark.
Population. The population, like that of every other county in Ireland,
was for some time steadily on the increase, until the census
of 1851 revealed the extent to which the population had
been reduced by famine and emigration. The number of
inhabitants at several periods was as follows:—
Year. Authority. No.
1760.. .De Burgo  38,736
1792.. .Beaufort   60,000
1812.. .Parliam. census...119,265
1821 ditto ...146,229
The two latest of these statements exhibit the density
of the population in 1841 as being 251 to the square
mile, and in 1851, 178, showing a decrease of 73 inhabitants
to each square mile in the course of a few years, the dimi¬
nution not having commenced until the year 1845. Ac¬
cording to the census taken by the commissioners of Public
Instruction in 1834, the population was estimated at
174,400, of which number 17,900 were Protestants, and
156,500 Roman Catholics; the former being to the latter
as one to nine nearly. The number of Presbyterians and
other dissenters, who are included in the preceding state¬
ment of numbers among the Protestants, amounted to 560.
In the return of the commissioners of Education in
1824-6, the only one in which the difference of religious
persuasion of the children receiving instruction in public
schools is noted, the numbers of each ot these are,—of the
Established Church, 2558 ; Protestant dissenters, 200; and
Roman Catholics, 7495. Of the total number of schools,
226, included in the same return, 130 were pay-schools, in
which the teachers were remunerated by the pupils’ fees,
and 74 were supported, either wholly or partially, by volun¬
tary subscriptions, and but 22 by grants of public money.
The number of schools in the county, and of pupils attending
them, in the week ending the 12th of April 1851 w’as :—
Year. Authority. No.
1831.. .Parliamentary
census 171,765
1841.. . ditto  180,886
1851.. . ditto  128,510
Schools.
National 
Church Education.
Diocesan 
Endowed  
Boarding  
Private  
Parochial 
Free 
Industrial  
Mission 
Workhouse 
Gaol 
Total.
No. of
Schools.
77
35
1
3
1
43
3
2
4
16
2
1
188
Children.
Males. I’emales.
1861
525
30
69
727
170
27
5
121
270
25
3830
2130
876
**23
39
480
7
83
101
659
280
7
4685
Total.
3991
1401
30
92
39
1207
177
110
106
780
550
32
8515
At the same period, 58 per cent, of the male, and 68 per Sligo,
cent, of the female, population, were unable to read or -
write.
The county is divided into the six baronies of Carbury, Divisions.
Coolavin, Corran, Leney, Tiraghrill, and Tyreragh, which
are subdivided into thirty-nine parishes; of these, twenty-
three are in the diocese of Tuam, and sixteen in that of
Elphin. The county was represented in the Irish parliament
by four members; two for the county and two for the bo¬
rough of Sligo. By the Act of Union, the number was re¬
duced to three, one being deducted from the borough. The
Reform Act made no change in this respect. The consti¬
tuency of the county is about 2500. The county is in the
Connaught circuit; the assizes, and some of the sessions of
the peace, are held in the town of Sligo, which contains the
county court-house and prison. Sessions of the peace are
also held at Ballymote and Easky, where there are like¬
wise court-houses and bridewells. The county infirmary,
and the district lunatic asylum, for this county and Leitrim,
are in the county town.
Most parts of the county afford ample scope for agricul- Agricul¬
tural improvements, either in tillage or pasturage. Oats and ture.
potatoes are the principal crops on the tillage land. The
culture of wheat was long unknown, the coldness and hu¬
midity of the climate having been deemed insuperable bars
to its successful treatment, but it is now raised on the rich
lowlands. Green crops, under the rotation system, are
more attended to every year. The spade, in many of the
mountain districts, still supplies the place of the plough.
Fences of every kind are usually constructed, those of dry
stones being most common, particularly in the more ele¬
vated districts, where the farmers adopt this mode of struc¬
ture, as well to clear their fields of surface stones as to
secure them from trespass. Sea-weed, collected on the
shore, which, some years ago, had been manufactured into
kelp, is now used as manure, and is in such repute that it
is carried twenty miles up the country. The beds of oyster-
shells, and the coraline sand, on some stretches of the beach,
are also applied to the same purpose. Tillage farms are
from five acres, and even lower, to two hundred or three
hundred in size. Those used chiefly for pasturage are
often of much greater extent, and were formerly held by a
number of tenants in a species of partnership, according to
which each had an --exclusive portion of tillage ground,
while a large tract of mountain or coarse bottom-land was
depastured in common; but this system is altogether obso¬
lete. Though the tillage system is much encouraged, it is
still subordinate to that of pasturage, which is adopted in
all parts of the county, and on every description of soil.
The extent of land under each description of crop in the
following years was:—
Description.
Wheat 
Oats   
Barley, Bere, Rye, Beans, and Pease.
Potatoes 
Turnips   
Other green crops   
Flax 
Meadow and Clover 
Total.
1847.
3,570
42,837
8,665
3,352
5,825
703
77
11,643
76,672
2,072
43.539
2,179
32,250
3,518
1,341
247
18,171
103,317
Horned cattle of the largest size are fattened in the rich
lowland plains; young cattle are reared in the hilly and
mountain districts; sheep also are kept in large flocks, par¬
ticularly in the western baronies. Much butter is made,
both in dairy farms and by small landholders. Swine,
which are reared in great numbers, are looked upon as a
SLIGO.
331
Sligo, very profitable source of income. Goats are not common.
The native breed of horses has little to recommend it, un¬
less when improved by crosses from those of the neighbour¬
ing counties, in which more attention is paid to them. The
quantity of live stock in the county, at several periods, has
been ascertained to be as follows:—
1847. 1859.
Horses....  7,824 9,232
Cattle 56,772 96,(165
Sheep  24,201 47,463
Pigs  6,116 21,576
The bays abound with both round and flat fish. The
herring visits the coast in large shoals, and the sun-fish and
some species of whales are frequently seen in the offing.
But this source of profitable industry is far from being ren¬
dered as productive as the natural capabilities of the place
would warrant. The Sligo fishery district extends from
Ballina Bridge to Mullaghmore, and in 1851 employed 475
registered vessels, and 2724 men and boys; but since that
period the numbers are much reduced. Of the larger fish,
cod, hake, haddock, skate, and turbot, are the most abun¬
dant. Sprats are taken in great quantities. The Lissadill
oyster is much esteemed. This fish, with many others of
the shell kind, as lobsters, crabs, scallops, &c., are found in
many other parts of the coast. There are large and pro¬
fitable salmon fisheries at Ballina, Sligo, and Ballysadare;
and the numerous lakes and rivers supply the usual species
of fresh-water fish in equal abundance. The increase of
agricultural improvement of late years is mainly attributable
to the facilities for export afforded by the ports of Sligo and
Ballina, but more especially the former, it being the great
mart of commerce for the whole county, except its western
districts, which, for the same purpose, take advantage of
their vicinity to the latter. The statements relative to the
external trade will be found in the subsequent description
of the town and port of Sligo. The inland trade, in con¬
sequence of the want of communication by inland naviga¬
tion or railroads, has been confined to that of coarse cloths,
woollens, and stockings from Connaught, and to the sale of
linen, mostly for domestic use. The chief trade of this
description is from Sligo town to^Boyle, in Roscommon, and
thence, by the Shannon and the two canals, to more distant
counties. A more confined traffic is carried on with Co¬
loony.
Manafac- The linen manufacture was introduced into the county
turcs. so ]ately as the middle of the last century, when a number
of weavers were located at Ballymore by Lord Shelburne.
It continued to flourish for many years, but at length suf¬
fered, as in other parts, by the depression of the trade, and
by the introduction of that of cotton. Coarse woollens are
still made for domestic consumption. In the neighbour¬
hood of the larger towns are several thriving tanneries,
distilleries, and breweries ; and the manufacture of flour has
caused the erection of numerous mills, which prepare large
quantities of grain, both for home consumption and export.
The manufacture of kelp is nearly extinct.
There is a considerable number of resident gentry in the
county in proportion to its size, and consequently many
elegant mansions and well-planted demesnes, which contri¬
bute more and more every year to diminish the former
denuded appearance of the landscape, arising from the
improvident destruction of its ancient timber. The houses
of the smaller farmers are plain but comfortable; but
the cottages of the peasantry generally present indica¬
tions of poverty. They are either of stone or mud, rudely
thatched with straw or rushes. The food of the labour¬
ing classes are potatoes and oaten bread, with some milk
and fish, and meat on extraordinary occasions. Fuel from
the bogs is abundant. Coal, imported from Great Britain
by the vessels which take in return cargoes of agricultural
produce, is used in the larger towns, and by the respectable
families in their vicinity; but the high price precludes its Sligo,
general use throughout the county. The garments of the
men are chiefly of home-manufactured wool, and so were
those of the women until the native fabrics were supplanted
by^cheap cottons. The Irish language was understood, in
1851, by 30 per cent, of the population, or 38,644 persons ;
of which number 10,584 could speak Irish only. The
rustic customs and amusements resemble those of the other
north-western counties, in which the language and habits
introduced from Scotland are less prevalent than in the
eastern parts of Ulster.
1 here are numerous relics of ancient structures. A Antiqui-
round tower at DrumclifF, in Carbury barony, differs from ties,
all others in Ireland, in being of smaller size, and inferior
architecture. Near the church where it stands, are two
stone crosses. On Knocknaree Mountains are several
cairns; and in the same mountains, a deep valley, called
the Glen of Knocknaree, thickly planted and watered by
several romantic falls, appears to have been formed by a
violent organic shock, causing a fissure through the moun¬
tain ; it is about three-quarters of a mile in length, thirty
feet only in width, and its wall-like boundaries about forty
feet in height. Some grottoes, hollowed out of the side of
a hill near Carron, are of unknown antiquity. Near Sligo
town is a cromlech, and a number of circular structures,
popularly called giants’ graves. Near Castleconnor, in
f yreragh barony, are several vaults of a square form, whether
built for cemeteries or storehouses is uncertain. There
are several remains of ancient castles in different parts of
the county. That of Knocknamoyle, crowning an elevated
hill near Skreen, is supposed to have existed before the
arrival of the English ; the others are thought to have been
built since. Upwards of forty monastic buildings are no¬
ticed by antiquaries, the ruins of ten of which are still
visible; eight others have been converted into parochial
churches, but the remainder are known only by name, even
the site of some of them being either doubtful or undisco-
verable. At Temple House, six miles from Coloony, are
the extensive ruins of a former residence of the Knights’
Templars, who had a settlement there.
Sligo, the assize town of the county, a considerable
maritime town and parliamentary borough, first became a
place of importance by the building of a castle there, in
1242, by Maurice Fitzgerald, Earl of Kildare. Its conse¬
quence was increased by the subsequent foundation, in
1252, of a Dominican monastery; but its progress was
afterwards much impeded by fires, and by the hostilities pro¬
duced by the struggles for superiority between the English
and the natives. It was incorporated and invested with the
privileges of a parliamentary borough in 1613, and in 1621
obtained a charter of the staple. In the early period of the
war of 1641, it was taken, without opposition, by the Par¬
liamentarians, under Sir Charles Coote, who was afterwards
attacked by a force collected by the Roman Catholic arch¬
bishop of Tuam, which retreated in consequence of an alarm
being spread that a large force was approaching to relieve the
town. When retiring they were attacked by the Parlia¬
mentarian forces; the archbishop was killed, and on his
person was found the important document, exposing the
secret communications which took place between Charles I.
and the Irish Catholics. Coote subsequently evacuated the
town, which thence continued in the possession of the
Royalists till the termination of the w'ar. In 1688 it declared
in favour of King James, was taken for King William by
the Enniskilleners, who, in turn, were driven out by Ge¬
neral Sarsfield; but the place ultimately surrendered to the
Earl of Granard. The town is situated in a very beautiful
neighbourhood, on both sides of the mouth of the Garogue,
where it discharges itself into the bay. The river is crossed
by two bridges. The streets are narrow, winding, and
irregularly built. Its public buildings are—two Protestant
332 S L I
Slingelandt churches, two Roman Catholic chapels, a Dominican friary,
Presbyterian, Independent, and Methodist meeting-houses.
The existing remains of the ancient monastery of Sligo
still exhibit a fine specimen of early English architecture.
Near its high altar is the tomb of the O’Conor Sligo, em¬
bellished with effigies. The town contains the county
infirmary, the county jail, the county court-house, a custom¬
house, the county lunatic asylum, the union workhouse,
cavalry barracks for a hundred men, and constabulary bar¬
racks. The markets are held on Tuesday and Saturday.
Fairs are held four times in the year. The corporation,
styled “the Mayor, Free Burgesses, and Commonality of
the Borough of Sligo,” consists of six aldermen and eighteen
councillors. The paving, lighting, and other departments
of the municipal police, are under the direction of the town
and harbour commissioners. Previously to the union, the
borough returned two members to parliament; subsequently
the number was reduced to one, the right of franchise being
vested in the mayor and twenty-seven burgesses and free¬
men, till the passing of the reform act, when it was extended
to the L.10 householders, and is now enjoyed by occupiers
rated in the last poor-rate at L.8. The number of electors
is about 350. The assizes and sessions of the peace for
the county are held here in the court-house, a small but
elegant modern building, and petty sessions are likewise
held weekly. The county prison is commodious, well ar¬
ranged, and under a good system of discipline.
Sligo Bay, in its more extended bearings, stretches from
Rinoran Point to Aughris Head, at its opening, a distance
of about six miles, and is divided into three inlets, the cen¬
tral, largest, and deepest of which terminates at the town of
Sligo. The entrance of this branch is screened from the
violence of the ocean waves by two small islands, Oyster
Island and Coney Island. There are three lighthouses at
the mouth of the harbour. Across its main entrance is a
bar, with but ten feet depth at low water. Though the
entrance of ships of deep draught is thus prevented, yet
vessels of 300 tons can come up to the quays in the turn of
spring-tides. The trade of Sligo increased very consider¬
ably between 1800 and 1840, but it has been stationary
for the last twenty years. The number of vessels registered
as belonging to the port, on 31st Dec. 1858, was—sailing
vessels, 34; tonnage 4524: steam-vessels, 3; tonnage 269.
The total number of vessels that entered the port (including
their repeated voyages) during that year was 378 vessels, of
51,399 tons (13, with 1830 tons, being foreign); that left,
333 vessels, of 45,960 tons (3, with 555 tons, being foreign).
Of those that entered, 214 sailing vessels, of 12,928 tons,
and 122 steam-vessels, of 30,443 tons; and of those that
left, 197 sailing vessels, of 11,685 tons, and 125 steam-
vessels, of 30,981 tons, were in the coasting or cross-channel
trade. The revenue of customs and excise duties at va¬
rious periods was as follows :—Customs—1802, L.14,690 ;
1810, L.15,133 ; 1821, L.26,083; 1830, L.39,438 ; 1835,
L.33,703; 1854, L.20,010; 1858, L.22,732. Excise—
1828, L.39,484 ; 1835, L.33,507 ; 1854, L.22,879; 1855,
L.38,129 ; 1856, L.52,487 ; 1857, L.61,692 ; 1858,
L.74,967.
The population cf Sligo town was, in 1851, 11,104.
There is not in the county another town containing 2000
inhabitants. Part of Ballina, called Ardnaree, with 533
inhabitants, is in this county, but the town is mainly in the
adjoining county of Mayo. (h. s—R.)
SLINGELANDT, Peter Van, wasa pupil of the emi¬
nent Dutch painter, Gerard Douvv, and was born at Leyden,
in 1640. He is distinguished above nearly every artist of
his time for the elaborate minuteness with which he goes
into every detail and circumstance of the interiors which he
has undertaken to paint. For example, his most celebrated
picture, which contains the portraits of the Meerman family,
and consists only of some 20 inches by 16, had no less than
S L o
three years devoted to its execution. The beauty of the Sloane.
colouring, and the delicacy with which every detail is filled 's—
in, doubtless enchants the eye of the observer; but one is
apt to reflect whether it would not be possible for an artist
of genius to produce a much better picture in a much
shorter time. It betrays a slavish adherence to matter of
fact, to spend a month on a lady’s ruff, or to copy, with the
most abject care, every hair of a dog’s, or of a cat’s, back.
Slingelandt’s pictures are certainly gems, and none but the
opulent can buy them. In the collections of the Earl of
Ellesmere and of Sir Robert Peel, at the galleries of the
Louvre, of Amsterdam, and of Dresden, the curious may
compare the pictures of Douw and Slingelandt, when they
will have an opportunity of judging how far a touch of
genius can glorify a picture, and of what an infinity of
touches are required by an artist of mere talent to give his
painting the veriest semblance of an approximation to the
production which he has set himself to emulate. Slinge¬
landt executed some seventy pictures in all, generally of
the interiors of houses, and pencilled with an accuracy that
would delight the heart of a Pre-Raphaelite. He died in
1691, in his fifty-first year.
SLOANE, Sir Hans, eminently distinguished as a physi¬
cian and a naturalist, was of Irish birth but of Scottish ex¬
traction, his father, Alexander Sloane, having been at the
head of that Scottish colony which King James I. settled in
the north of Ireland, where the son was born, at Killyleagh,
in the county of Down, on the 16th of April 1660. The place
of his birth, a small two-storied house, is still pointed out
in a back street of the town. At a very early period, he
displayed a strong inclination for natural history; and this
propensity being encouraged by a suitable education, he
employed those hours which young people generally lose by
pursuing low and trifling amusements, in the study of nature,
and contemplating her works. When about sixteen, he
was attacked by a spitting of blood, which threatened to be
attended with considerable danger, and which interrupted
the regular course of his application for three years. He
had, however, already learned enough of physic to know
that a malady of this kind was not to be suddenly removed,
and he prudently abstained from wine and other liquors
that were likely to increase it. By strictly observing this
severe regimen, which he in some measure continued ever
afterwards, he was enabled to prolong his life beyond the
ordinary bounds ; being an example of the truth of his own
favourite maxim, that sobriety, temperance, and modera¬
tion, are the best and most powerful preservatives that na¬
ture has granted to mankind. As soon as he recovered
from this infirmity, he resolved to perfect himself in the
different branches of physic, which was the profession he
had made choice of; and with this view he repaired to
London, where he hoped to receive that assistance which
he could not find in his own country.
On his arrival in the metropolis, he entered himself as a
pupil of Stafforth, an excellent chemist, bred under the
illustrious Stahl; and by his instructions he gained a per¬
fect knowledge of the composition and preparation of the
different kinds of medicines then in use. At the same time,
he studied botany at the garden at Chelsea, assiduously
attended the public lectures of anatomy and physic, and in
short neglected nothing that he thought likely to prove
serviceable to him in his future practice. His principal
merit, however, was his knowledge of natural histov^.; and
it was this part of his character which introduced liifq early
to the acquaintance of Boyle and Ray, two of tlnf most
eminent naturalists of that age. His intimacy with these
distinguished characters continued as long as they lived;
and as he was careful to communicate to them every object
of curiosity that attracted his attention, the observations
which he occasionally made often excited their admiration
and obtained their applause. After studying four years
S L 0 A N E.
Sioane. in London with unremitting severity, Sloane determined to
visit foreign countries for further improvement. With this
view he set out for France in the company of two other
students, and having crossed to Dieppe, proceeded to Paris.
In the way thither they were entertained by Lemery the
elder; and in return Sloane presented that eminent chemist
with a specimen of four different kinds of phosphorus, of
which, upon the credit of other writers, Lemery had treated
in his book of chemistry, though he had never seen any of
them. At Paris Sloane lived as he had done in London.
He attended the hospitals, heard the lectures of Tourne-
fort, De Verney, and other eminent masters; visited all
the literati, who received him with particular marks of
esteem; and employed himself wholly in study. From
Paris he proceeded to Montpellier; and, being furnished
with letters of recommendation from Tournefort to Chirac,
then chancellor of that university, he found easy access,
through his means, to all the learned men of the province,
particularly to Magnol, whom he always accompanied in his
botanical excursions in the environs of that city. Having
here found an ample field for contemplation, which was
entirely suited to his taste, he took leave of his two com¬
panions, whom a curiosity of a different kind led into Italy.
After spending a whole year in collecting plants, he tra¬
velled through Languedoc with the same design ; and pass¬
ing through Toulouse and Bordeaux, returned to Paris,
where he made a short stay. About the end of the year
1684 he set out for England, with an intention of settling
there as a physician. On his arrival in London, he made
it his first business to visit his two illustrious friends Ray
and Boyle, in order to communicate to them the discoveries
which he had made in his travels. The latter he found at
home, but the former had retired to Essex; to which place
Sloane transmitted a great variety of plants and seeds,
which Ray has described in his History of Plants, and for
which he makes a proper acknowledgment.
About this time Sloane became acquainted with
Sydenham, who soon contracted so warm an affection for
him that he took him into his house, and recommended
him in the strongest manner to his patients. He had not
been long in London before he was proposed by Dr Martin
Lister as a candidate to be admitted a Fellow of the Royal
Society, on the 26th of November 1684; and being ap¬
proved, he was elected on the 21st of January following.
In 1685 he communicated some curiosities to the Society;
and in July the same year he was a candidate for the office
of secretary, but without success, as he was obliged to give
way to the superior interest of his competitor Dr Halley.
On the 12th of April 1687, he was chosen a fellow of the
College of Physicians in London ; and on the 13th of July
of the same year his friend and fellow-traveller DrTancred
Robinson, having mentioned to the society the plant called
“the star of the earth” as a remedy newly discovered for
the bite of a mad dog, Dr Sloane acquainted them that this
virtue of the plant was to be found in a book called De Grey’s
Farriery ; and that he knew a man who had cured with it
twenty couple of dogs. On the 12th of September follow¬
ing he embarked at Portsmouth for Jamaica with the Duke
of Albemarle, who had been appointed governor of that
island. The doctor attended his grace in quality of phy¬
sician, and arrived at Jamaica on the 19th of December
following. Here a new field was opened for fresh dis¬
coveries in natural productions; but the world would have
been deprived of the fruits of them had not Sloane, by in¬
credible application, converted, as we may say, his minutes
into hours. The Duke of Albemarle died soon after he
landed, yet he so improved his time in making collections
of natural curiosities, that, though his whole stay in Jamaica
was not above fifteen months, he brought together such a
prodigious number of plants, that, on his return to Eng¬
land, Ray was astonished that one man could procure in
333
one island, and in so short a space, so vast a variety. On Sloane.
his arrival in London, he applied himself to the practice of
his profession, and soon became so eminent, that he was
chosen physician to Christ’s Hospital on the 17th October
1694; and this office he held till the year 1730, when, on
account of his great age and infirmities, he found it neces¬
sary to resign. It is somewhat singular, and redounds much
to the doctor’s honour, that though he received the emolu¬
ments of his office punctually, because he would not lay
down a precedent which might hurt his successors, yet he con¬
stantly applied the money to the relief of those who were the
greatest objects of compassion in the hospital, that it might
never be said he enriched himself by giving health to the
poor. He had been elected secretary to the Royal Society
on the 30th of November 1693 ; and upon this occasion he
revived the publication of the Philosophical Transactions,
which had for some time been neglected. He continued
to be the editor of this work till the year 1712; and the
volumes which appeared during that period are monuments
of his industry and ingenuity, many of the pieces contained
in them being written by himself. In the meantime he
published Catalogus Plantarum quce in Insula Jamaica
sponte proveniunt; seu Prodromi Historim Naturalis pars
prima ; which he dedicated to the Royal Society and the
College of Physicians. About the same time he formed
the plan of a dispensary, where the poor might be furnished
at prime cost with such medicines as their several maladies
might require ; and this he afterwards carried into execu¬
tion, with the assistance of the president and other mem¬
bers of the College of Physicians. His eager thirst for
natural knowledge seems to have been born with him, so
that his cabinet of curiosities may be said to have com¬
menced with his life. He was continually enriching and
enlarging it; and the fame which, in the course of a few
years, it had acquired, brought everything that was curi¬
ous in art or nature to be first offered to him for purchase.
These acquisitions, however, increased it but very slowly
in comparison of the augmentation which it received in 1701
by the death of William Courten, a gentleman who had
employed all his time, and the greater part of his fortune,
in collecting rarities, and who bequeathed the whole to Dr
Sloane, on condition of his paying certain debts and lega¬
cies with which he had charged it. These terms our author
accepted, and he executed the will of the donor with the most
scrupulous exactness; on which account some people have
said, that he purchased Courten’s curiosities at a dear rate.
In 1707, the first volume of Dr Sloane’s Natural His¬
tory of Jamaica appeared in folio, though the publication
®f the second was delayed till 1725. By this very useful
as well as magnificent work, the materia medica was en¬
riched with a great number of excellent drugs not before
known. In 1708, the author was elected a foreign member
of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, in the room of
Tschirnaus; an honour so much the greater as we were
then at war with France, and the queen’s express consent
was necessary before he could accept it. In proportion as
his credit rose among the learned, his practice increased
among the people of rank. Queen Anne herself frequently
consulted him. On the advancement of George I. to the
throne, that prince, on the 3d of April 1716, created Sloane
a baronet, an hereditary title of honour to which no Eng¬
lish physician had before attained; and at the same time
made him physician-general to the army, in which station
he continued till 1727, when he was appointed physician in
ordinary to George II. He attended the royal family till
his death ; and was particularly favoured by Queen Caro¬
line, who placed the greatest confidence in his prescriptions.
In the meantime, he had been unanimously chosen one of
the elects of the College of Physicians on the 1st of June
1716, and he was elected president of the same body on
the 30th of September 1719, an office which he held for
334 S L O
Sloane. sixteen years. During that period he not only gave the
highest proofs of his zeal and assiduity in the discharge of
his duty, but, in 1721, made a present to that society of
L.100, and so far remitted a very considerable debt which
the corporation owed him as to accept it in such small
sums as were least inconvenient to the state of their affairs.
Sir Hans was no less liberal to other learned bodies. He
had no sooner purchased the manor of Chelsea, than he
gave the company of apothecaries the entire freehold of
their botanical garden.1 He gave besides several other
considerable donations for the improvement of this garden,
the situation of which, on the banks of the Thames, and in
the neighbourhood of the capital, was such as to render it
useful in two respects: first, by producing the most rare
medicinal plants; and, secondly, by serving as an excellent
school for young botanists, an advantage which he himself
had derived from it in the early part of his life.
The death of Sir Isaac Newton, which happened in 1727,
made way for the advancement of Sir Hans to the presi¬
dency of the Royal Society. He had been vice-president,
and frequently sat in the chair for that great man ; and by
his long connection with this learned body he had con¬
tracted so strong an affection for it, that he made the Society
a present of an hundred guineas, caused a curious bust of
Charles II., its founder, to be erected in the great hall where
it met, and, as is said, was very instrumental in procuring
Sir Godfrey Copley’s benefaction of a medal of the value of
five guineas, to be annually given as an honorary mark of
distinction to the person who should communicate the best
experiments to the Society. On his being raised to the
chair, Sir Hans applied himself wholly to the faithful dis¬
charge of the duties of the offices which he enjoyed. In these
laudable occupations he employed his time, from 1727 to
1740, when, at the age of fourscore, he formed a resolution
of retiring into private life. With this view, he resigned
the presidency of the Royal Society much against the in¬
clination of that respectable body, who chose Martin Folkes
to succeed him, and in a public assembly thanked him for
the great and eminent services which he had rendered them.
In the month of January 1741, he began to remove his lib¬
rary, and his cabinet of rarities, from his house in Blooms¬
bury to that at Chelsea; and, on the 12th of March follow¬
ing, having settled all his affairs, he retired thither himself,
to enjoy in peaceful tranquillity the remains of a well-spent
life. He did not, however, bury himself in that solitude
which excludes men from society. He received in Chelsea,
as he had done in London, the visits of people of distinction,
of learned foreigners, and of the royal family, who some¬
times did him the honour to wait on him; but, what was
still more to his praise, he never refused admittance or ad¬
vice to rich or poor who came to consult him concerning
their health. Not contented with this contracted method
of doing good, he now, during his retreat, presented to the
public such useful remedies as success had warranted,
during the course of a long-continued practice. During
the whole course of his life Sir Hans had lived with so
much temperance as had preserved him from feeling the
infirmities of old age ; but in his ninetieth year be began to
complain of pains, and to be sensible of a universal decay.
He was often heard to say, that the approach of death
brought, no terrors along with it; that he had long expected
the stroke ; and that he was prepared to receive it whenever
the Great Author of his being should think fit. After a
S M A
short illness of three days, he died on the 11th of January Slobodskoi
1752, in his ninety-second year, and was interred on the ||
18th at Chelsea, in the same vault with his lady, his re- Sraart.
mains being attended by the greatest concourse of people,
of all ranks and conditions, that had ever before been seen
on a like occasion.
Sir Hans being extremely solicitous lest his cabinet of
curiosities, which he had taken so much pains to collect,
should be again scattered at his death, and being at the
same time unwilling that so large a portion of his fortune
should be lost to his children, bequeathed it to the public,
on condition that L.20,000 should be made good by parlia¬
ment to his family. The sum, though large in appearance,
was scarcely more than the intrinsic value of the gold and
silver medals, the ores and precious stones that were found
in it; for in his last will he declares, that the first cost of
the whole amounted at least to L.50,000. Besides his lib¬
rary, consisting of more than fifty thousand volumes, three
hundred and forty-seven of which were illustrated with cuts
finely engraven and coloured from nature, there were three
thousand five hundred and sixty manuscripts, and an infi¬
nite number of rare and curious works of every kind. The
parliament accepted the legacy, and fulfilled the conditions,
and from this ample collection the British Museum had its
origin.
SLOBODSKOI, or Slobosk, a town of European Rus¬
sia, capital of a circle in the government and 18 miles
N.E. of Viatka, on the river Viatka. It contains 12
churches, including several cathedrals; 2 schools and 2
charitable institutions. The inhabitants are employed in
iron-works; also in hunting and fishing, and in weaving
and soap-making. A considerable trade is carried on in
corn, tallow, and linen. Pop. (1850), 6032.
SLONIM, a town of European Russia, capital of a circle
in the government and 67 miles S.E. of Grodno, on the
Schtschara. It contains 7 churches, 2 schools, and large
manufactories of cloth. The town is walled, and has an
old castle. Pop. (1850), 8708.
SLOUGH, a village of England, Buckinghamshire, 20
miles W. of London. It has recently risen to some conse¬
quence, since it has been made a principal station on the
Great Western Railway; a new church, a large railway
hotel, and many private houses have been erected. It was
here that Sir William Herschell erected his large telescope, 1
and made some of his great discoveries. Pop. 1189.
SLUICE. See Navigation, Inland.
SLU TSK, a town of European Russia, on a river of the
same name, capital of a circle in the government and 60
miles S. of Minsk. It is 'large and well built, but chiefly
of wood; and contains three castles, 15 churches, a con¬
vent, several schools, and benevolent institutions. A con¬
siderable trade is carried on. Pop. (1851), 5174.
SMART, Christopher, now chiefly remembered by
his prose translation of Horace, was born at Shipbourne, in
Kent, on the 11th of April 1722. He received his educa¬
tion successively at Maidstone, at Durham, and at Pem¬
broke Hall, Cambridge. He early gave evidence of pos¬
sessing a power of versification; and on entering college
he rose to immediate distinction as a classic, a rhymster,
and a frequenter of taverns. Smart was chosen fellow of
his college in 1745, and gained the Seatonian prize for five
successive years, for poems composed on the Supreme
Being. In 1752 he married Miss Carman, a relation of
1 This garden was first established by the company in 1673 ; and having, after that period, been stocked by them with a great variety
of plants for the improvement of botany, Sir Hans, in order to encourage so serviceable an undertaking, granted to the company the in¬
heritance of it, being part of his estate and manor of Chelsea, on condition that it should be for ever preserved as a physic garden. As
a proof of its being so maintained, he obliged the company, in consideration of the said grant, to present yearly to the Royal Society,
in one of their weekly meetings, fifty specimens of plants that had been grown in the garden the preceding year, and which were all to
be specifically distinct from each other, until the number of 2000 should be completed. This number was completed in the year 1761.
In 1733 the company erected a marble statue of Sir Hans, executed by Rysbrack, which is placed upon a pedestal in the centre of the
garden, with a Latin inscription expressing his donation, and the design and advantages of it.
S M E
Am pa ton. Newberry the publisher, gave up his fellowship, and be-
^ took himself to London, to commence the career of author.
He wrote a satire, called the Hilliad, against the notorious
Sir John Hill, who had previously attacked him in a criti¬
cism of his poems. He was not deficient in those mental
qualities which ensure success in the literary calling, but
he was hopelessly addicted to drinking and other vices,
which speedily wrecked his constitution. Harassed by dis¬
ease, and plunged irrecoverably in poverty, he lost his rea¬
son, and was confined in a lunatic asylum for two years.
During his intervals of sanity he executed prose transla¬
tions of the Psalms, of Phsedrus, and of Horace. He was in
the receipt of L.50 a year out of the treasury, yet his con¬
firmed habits as a spendthrift could not be broken through,
and he died in great poverty in King’s Bench prison, where
he had been confined during the latter part of his life, on
the 22d of May 1771. Poor Smart was not quite destitute
of good qualities. He was generous and open-hearted,
and was possessed of considerable sensibility. He was
known after a debauch to pen fervid lines on his knees, so
great was his contrition ; but as usually happens, when
the next temptation came, he had forgotten all his vows.
He was the friend of Garrick, of Goldsmith, and of John¬
son. He was the Edgar Allan Poe of the eighteenth cen¬
tury, though he fell considerably short of that ideal writer
in all the higher qualities of his genius. A quarto edition
of his poems was published in 1753, and a collected edition
of them in 1791.
SMEATON, John, an eminent civil engineer, was born
on the 18th of June 1724, at Austhorpe, near Leeds, in a
house built by his grandfather, and where his family have
resided ever since. The strength of his understanding and
the originality of his genius appeared at an early age. His
playthings were not the playthings of children, but the tools
which men employ ; and he appeared to have had greater
entertainment in seeing the men in the neighbourhood
work, and asking them questions, than in anything else.
One day he was seen on the top of his father’s barn, fixing
up something like a wind-mill; another time, he attended
some men fixing a pump at a neighbouring village, and ob¬
serving them cut off a piece of bored pipe, he was so
lucky as to procure it, and he actually made with it a
working pump that raised water. These anecdotes referred
to circumstances that happened while he was yet in petti¬
coats, and most likely before he attained his sixth year.
About his fourteenth or fifteenth year, he constructed for
himself an engine for turning, and made several presents to
his friends of boxes in ivory or wood very neatly turned.
He forged his iron and steel, and melted his metal; he had
tools of every sort for working in wood, ivory, and metals.
He made a lathe, by which he cut a perpetual screw in
brass, a thing little known at that day, which was the in¬
vention of Henry Hindley of York, with whom Smeaton
soon became acquainted, and they spent many a night at
Hindley’s house till daylight, conversing on those subjects.
Thus had Smeaton, by the strength of his genius and inde¬
fatigable industry, acquired, at the age of eighteen, an ex¬
tensive set of tools, and the art of working in most of the
mechanical trades, without the assistance of any master. A
part of every day was generally occupied in forming some
ingenious piece of mechanism. Smeaton’s father was an
attorney, and desirous of bringing him up to the same pro¬
fession. Smeaton therefore came up to London in 1742,
and attended the courts in Westminster Hall; but finding
that the law did not suit the bent of his genius, he wrote a
strong memorial on that subject to his father, whose good
sense from that moment left the youth to pursue the bent
of his genius in his own w;ay.
In 1751 he began a course of experiments to try a ma¬
chine of his invention to measure a ship’s wray at sea, and
also made two voyages in company with Dr Knight to try
S M E 335
it, and a compass of his own invention and making, which Smeaton.
was rendered magnetical by Dr Knight’s artificial magnets. v^—
The second voyage was made in the Fortune sloop of war,
commanded at that time by Captain Alexander Campbell.
In 1753 he was elected member of the Royal Society. The
number of papers published in their Transactions will show
the universality of his genius and knowledge. In 1759 he
was honoured, by a unanimous vote, with their gold medal
for his paper entitled “ An Experimental Inquiry concern¬
ing the Natural Powers of Water and Wind to turn Mills,
and other Machines depending on a circular motion.” This
paper, he says, was the result of experiments made on
working models in the years 1752 and 1753, but not com¬
municated to the Society till 1759; before which time he
had an opportunity of putting the effect of these experi¬
ments into real practice, in a variety of cases, and for
various purposes, so as to assure the Society he had found
them to answer. In December 1755, the Eddystone
lighthouse was burned down. Weston, the chief proprietor,
and the others, being desirous of rebuilding it in the most
substantial manner, inquired of the Earl of Macclesfield,
then president of the Royal Society, whom he thought the
most proper to rebuild it; and his lordship recommended
Smeaton. He accordingly undertook the work, and he
completed it in the summer of 1759. Of the preparation
for this extraordinary work, of its commencement and pro¬
gress, Smeaton has given an ample and interesting descrip¬
tion in a splendid folio volume which was first published in
1791. The same volume contains the history of the diffe¬
rent buildings which have been erected on the Eddystone
rock. Though Smeaton completed the building of the
Eddystone lighthouse in 1759, yet it appears he did not
soon get into full business as a civil engineer; but in
1764, while in Yorkshire, he offered himself a candidate to
be one of the receivers of the Derwentwater estate, and on
the 31st of December in that year, he was appointed, at a
full board of Greenwich hospital, in a manner highly flat¬
tering to himself, when other two persons, strongly recom¬
mended and powerfully supported, were candidates for the
employment.
Smeaton having now got into full business as a civil en¬
gineer, performed many works of general utility. He made
the Calder navigable; a work that required great skill and
judgment, owing to the very impetuous floods in that river.
He planned and attended the execution of the great canal
in Scotland, joining the Firths of Forth and Clyde, for
conveying the trade of the country either to the Atlantic
or German Ocean ; and having brought it to the place
originally intended, he declined a handsome yearly salary,
in order that he might attend to the multiplicity of his
other business. The vast variety of mills which Smeaton
constructed, so greatly to the satisfaction and advantage of
the owners, will show the great use which he made of his
experiments in 1752 and 1753; for he never trusted to
theory in any case where he could have an opportunity to
investigate it by experiment. He built a steam-engine at
Austhorpe, and made experiments upon it, purposely to
ascertain the power of Newcomen’s steam-engine, which
he greatly improved. About the year 1 <85 Smeaton’s
health began to decline; and he then took the resolution
of endeavouring to avoid all the business he could, so that
he might have leisure to publish an account of his inven¬
tions and works, which was certainly the first wish of his
heart; for he has often been heard to say, that “ he thought
he could not render so much service to his country as by
doing that.” He got only his account of the Eddystone
lighthouse completed, and some preparations to his intended
treatise on Mills. He could not resist the solicitations
of his friends in various works; and Aubert, whom he
greatly loved and respected, being chosen chairman of
Ramsgate harbour, prevailed upon him to accept the place
336 S M E
Smellie. of engineer. To their joint efforts the public is chiefly in-^
debted for the improvements which have been made there,
as fully appears in a report that Smeaton presented to the
board of trustees in 1791, which they immediately pub¬
lished. Smeaton being at Austhorpe, walking in his gar¬
den on the 16th of September 1792, was struck with palsy,
and died the 28th of October.
SMELLIE, William, a learned and ingenious printer,
was born at Edinburgh in the year 1740. He received a
fair education at a school in Duddingstone, from which, at
the early age of twelve years, he was removed, and appren¬
ticed for six years and a half, to Hamilton, Balfour, and
Neill, printers to the university. To this occupation he
applied himself with great assiduity, and devoted his even¬
ings to the acquisition of knowledge. During his appren¬
ticeship he was permitted to attend some of the university
lectures. The Edinburgh Philosophical Society having
offered a silver medal for the most accurate edition of a
Latin classic, Smellie set and corrected an edition of
Terence, which obtained this prize for his employers. His
edition, which bears the date of 1758, but was actually
printed during the preceding year, has been described as
immaculate ; but of the literal accuracy of this description
we entertain some doubt. His apprenticeship was com¬
pleted on the 1st of April 1759 ; and in the ensuing month
of September, he agreed to transfer his services to the office
of Murray and Cochrane. In this new situation, Smellie’s
employers allowed him three hours a day for the prosecution
of his academical studies. He studied Latin, Greek, Hebrew,
mathematics, logic, rhetoric, moral and natural philosophy.
He besides attended all the medical courses, including the
lectures on chemistry and botany. The Hebrew class he
attended in the year 1758, with the immediate view of
preparing himself to superintend the printing of Dr Rob¬
ertson’s Hebrew Grammar. In 1763, then in his twenty-
third year, he married and settled down to his books. In
1760 he had become a member of the Newtonian society,
a literary association chiefly composed of young men edu¬
cated in the university, and many of whom subsequently
rose to be men of influence in the country. A new asso¬
ciation, of which he acted as secretary, was formed in the
year 1778, under the denomination of the Newtonian Club.
Most of the other members were connected with the medi¬
cal profession, and five of them either then were, or after¬
wards became, medical professors in the university. In
the list of these associates we find the names of Dugald
Stewart and James Gregory. For the different branches
of natural history Smellie had evinced an early predilec¬
tion. To the study of botany he devoted so much atten¬
tion, that in 1765 his “Dissertations on the Sexes of
Plants” gained the gold medal given by Dr Hope. In
this dissertation, which was inserted in the first edition
of this Eneyclopeedia, he strenuously opposed the doctrines
of Linnaeus. The substance of it was incorporated in his
Philosophy of Natural History, and his opinions were then
controverted by Dr Rotheram, afterwards professor of na¬
tural philosophy at St Andrews. (Smellie’s Philosophy of
Natural History, vol. i., p. 245.)
On the 25th of March 1765 he commenced business as
a printer, in conjunction with two brothers named Robert
and William Auld, which was next year to be merged into
the new company of Balfour, W. Auld, and Smellie, and
subsequently into that of Balfour and Smellie. He was
intimate with Lord Karnes, and he incidentally mentions
his supping with his lordship in company with Hume and
other guests. He was likewise a guest at the learned
suppers of Lord Monboddo ; and he reckoned Lord Hailes,
as well as Lord Gardenstone, among his friends.
Balfour and Smellie were appointed printers to the uni¬
versity. The chief advantage which attended this appoint¬
ment was the profit of printing the dissertations written by
S M E
candidates for medical degrees. Smellie likewise printed Smellie.
the theses written by candidates for admission to the ^
Faculty of Advocates; and his knowledge of the Latin
language was in both cases found very serviceable to the
writers. He rendered material assistance to his friend Dr
Buchan in the composition of his Domestic Medicine,
published at Edinburgh in the year 1770, and which at¬
tained to an enormous popularity.
The first edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica con¬
sisted of only three volumes, which began to be printed in
the year 1771. The principal articles were written, com¬
piled, or devised by Smellie, and he prepared and super¬
intended the entire publication. “ As you have informed
me,” says a letter of Andrew Bell, the chief proprietor,
“ that there are fifteen capital sciences which you will
undertake for, and write up the subdivisions and detached
parts, conformably] to your plan, and likewise to prepare
the whole work for the press, &c., &c., we hereby agree to
allow you L.200 for your trouble.” If his capital sciences
had not exceeded the old number of seven, this remunera¬
tion could scarcely have been considered as extravagant.
One of his original articles, contributed to this edition, was
that on “ JUther,” which attracted a considerable degree of
attention, and gave no small offence to Dr Cullen, whose
theory was there exposed, though without any mention of
his name. Of the second edition of the Encyclopaedia
Smellie was offered a share, apparently a third, conjoined
with the charge of editorship. This offer he unfortunately
declined, and thus lost the only golden opportunity that
fortune ever presented to him. “ At the death of Mr
Macfarquhar, printer, in April 1793, the whole work be¬
came the property of Mr Bell. It is well known that Mr
Macfarquhar left a handsome fortune to his family, all or
mostly derived from the profits of the Encyclopaedia ; and
that Mr Bell died in great affluence, besides possessing the
entire property of that vast work, every shilling of which
may be fairly stated as having grown from the labours of
Mr Smellie in the original fabrication of the work, which is
confessedly superior, and all of which he and his family
might have shared in equally with Mr Bell and the other
proprietor, if he had not been too fastidious in his notions,
and perhaps too timid in his views of the risk which might
have been incurred in the mercantile part of the specula¬
tion.” (Kerr’s Memoirs of the Life, Writings, and Cor- \
respondence of William Smellie, vol. i., p. 363, Edin.
1811, 2 vols. 8vo.)
Smellie afterwards embarked in a speculation which did
not prove so lucrative. This was The Edinburgh Maga¬
zine and Review, which began in the month of October
1773, and extended over five volumes, closing with the
number for August 1776. Of the Society of Antiquaries,
instituted at Edinburgh in 1780, Smellie was an original
member. In 1781 he was elected superintendent of the
Museum of Natural History, which they proposed adding
to their antiquarian cabinet. He afterwards published an
Account of the Institution and Progress of the Society of
the Antiquaries of Scotland, Edin. 1782, 4to. To this
account he added a second part in 1784. He was elected
to the office of secretary in 1793. This new institution
excited the jealousy of some other learned bodies; but a
royal charter was finally got ratified in the month of May
1783. At the request of the Society of Antiquaries he
had, in 1781, digested the plan of a statistical account of
all the parishes of Scotland. The circulation of this plan
did not excite much industry ; but, at no distant period, it
was followed by an extensive and important work. As
superintendent of the museum, he was authorized to de¬
liver in their hall a course of lectures on natural history.
“ His object was to deliver lectures on the philosophy of
natural history, which is a subject totally different from
what a public professor is obliged to teach. A professor
S M E
Smelting must instruct his students in the technical and elementary
Smlein ^ai 1 ^ie sc'ence ; ^ut ^ie Private lecturer was to confine
jorsir t0 general viewsof the economyof'nature.” (Smellie’s
v j i Account of the Society of Antiquaries, part ii., p. 24.) The
professor of natural history, who certainly had reason to
fear such a rival, was alarmed at what he considered as an
encroachment on his province, and this plan of lectures was
reluctantly abandoned. On the death of Dr Ramsay, in
the year 1775, Smellie had offered himself as a candidate
for the professorship of natural history, but it was bestowed
upon another.
Smellie continued to prosecute his favourite study, and
he published Natural History, General and Particular, by
the Count de Buffon, translated into English, Edin. 1781,
8 vols. 8vo. The translator was honoured with the cor¬
respondence of BufFon, and likewise of Pennant. The firm
of Balfour and Smellie having been dissolved, that of
Creech and Smellie began business on the 14th of Sep¬
tember 1782, and continued it till the close of the year
1789. After the termination of these different partner¬
ships, he continued the business on his own account. His
next publication was, An Address to the People of Scot¬
land on the Nature, Powers, and Privileges of Juries,
Edin. ] 784, 8vo. This tract excited a considerable degree
of attention ; and it was quoted with much approbation by
Lord Erskine in his famous speech in defence of Dr
Shipley, dean of St Asaph. He published several other
pamphlets, which chiefly related to local politics. But the
most elaborate of his works is The Philosophy of Natural
History, Edin. 1790, 4to. This is an ingenious book,
written in a very pleasing style, and it accordingly ex¬
perienced a favourable reception. It was reprinted at
Dublin and Philadelphia. Lichtenstein published a Ger¬
man translation, to which some notes were added by C. A.
W. Zimmermann. His plan, however, was not yet com¬
pleted, and he immediately applied himself to the*prepara¬
tion of a second volume. He lived to bring it to a conclu¬
sion, though not to make any arrangement for its publica¬
tion. During the last years of his life his health appears to
have been infirm and precarious. After a long illness, he
died on the 24th of June 1795, at the age of sixty-five.
He left a widow, with four sons and four daughters ; two
sons and three daughters having died before their father.
Of his Philosophy of Natural History, the second volume
was published by his son in the year 1799. Another post¬
humous work speedily followed, Literary and Charac-
tei istical Lives of John. Gregory, ALL)., Henry Home, Lord
Karnes, David Hume, Esq., and Adam Smith, LL.D.
.To which are added a JLissertation on Public Spirit, and
Three Essays, Edinb. 1800, 8vo. His original plan com¬
prehended the lives of other twenty-five men of literary
eminence with whom he was personally acquainted.
Smellie appears to have been a man of excellent talents,
and of extensive knowledge. His disposition was social,
his habits were convivial, and he was distinguished by a
sarcastic vein of wit and humour. Burns describes him as
“a man positively of the first abilities and greatest strength
of mind, as well as one of the best hearts and keenest wits,
that he had ever met with.” And in the following lines,
which allude to a club called the Crochallan Fencibles, he
has exhibited a graphic delineation of Smellie :—
“ To Crochallan came
The old cock’d hat, the grey surtout, the same;
Ills bristling beard just rising in its might,
3Twas four long nights and days to shaving night;
His uncomb’d grizzly locks, wild staring, thatch’d
A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch’d;
Yet though his caustic wit was biting, rude,
His heart was warm, benevolent, and good.”
SMELTING. See Iron.
SMIEINJORSK, or Smeyinogorsk, in Siberia, a small
district in the Altai Mountains, with a village of the same
VOL. XX.
S M I 337
name, in the government of Tomsk. It contains mines of Smith
silver and copper, a silver smelting-house, and an hospital. Adam!
Pop. (1850), 14,904.
SMI TH, Adam, author of the Theory of Moral Senti¬
ments and the Wealth of Nations, and the most distin¬
guished political economist of modern times, was born at
Kirkcaldy, on the 5th of June 1723. His father, who
held the situation of comptroller of customs in that town,
died, a few months before his birth; so that the charge
of his early education devolved wholly on his mother, the
daughter of Mr Douglas of Strathenry, in the county of
Fife.
His constitution during infancy is said to have been ex¬
it emely infirm and delicate, and required all the anxious
attention of hi.s mother, who treated him with greatest
indulgence. 1 his, however, had no unfavourable influence
over his temper or dispositions; and he repaid the fond
solicitude of his parent by every attention that filial gra¬
titude and affection could dictate, during the long period
of sixty years.
He received the rudiments of his education in the gram¬
mar school of Kirkcaldy. The weakness of his constitu¬
tion prevented him from indulging in the amusements
common to boys of his age. But Dugald Stewart states,
that he was even then distinguished by his passion for
books, and by the extraordinary powers of his memory;
that he was much beloved by his schoolfellows, many of
whom subsequently attained to great eminence; and that
he was thus early remarkable for those habits which re¬
mained with him through life, of speaking to himself when
alone, and of absence in company.
He continued at Kirkcaldy until 1737, when he was sent
to the University of Glasgow, where he remained for three
years. He then entered Balliol College, Oxford, as an
exhibitioner on Snell’s foundation ; and continued for seven
years to prosecute his studies at that celebrated seminary.
Mathematics and natural philosophy formed his favourite
pursuits wfitile at Glasgow. But, subsequently to his re¬
moval to Oxford, he seems to have principally devoted the
time not consumed in the routine duty of the university to
the study of the belles lettres, and of those moral and poli¬
tical sciences of which he was destined to become so great
a master.
Smith does not seem to have felt any very peculiar re¬
spect for his English alma mater. The severe remarks in
the Wealth of Nations on the system of education followed
in Oxford and Cambridge were suggested by his own ob¬
servations. He shows that it is reasonable to expect that
the plan of appointing professors with handsome salaries, who
are not permitted to receive fees from their pupils, should,
in all ordinary cases, make them either wholly neglect the
important duties of their office, or discharge them in a
slovenly manner ; and he refers to the example of Oxford,
to prove the accuracy of this conclusion ; “ the greater part
of the public professors of that seminary having, for these
many years, given up altogether even the pretence of
teaching.”
While at Oxford, Smith frequently employed himself in
translating, particularly from the French, in the view of im¬
proving his style; and he used often to express a favour¬
able opinion of this sort of exercise. But lie might have
practised it with nearly equal advantage anywhere else.
No doubt, however, he must have reaped considerable
advantage from his residence at Oxford, by its contri¬
buting to improve and perfect his acquaintance with the
niceties of the English language, and rendering him a
greater proficient in classical learning, of which his know¬
ledge was both extensive and accurate. But it is not,
perhaps, very easy to discover what other obligations he
could owe to it. What advantage could he derive in pro¬
secuting his inquiries respecting the history of society, and
2 u .
338
SMITH.
Smith,
Adam.
v
into u those principles which ought to run through and be
the foundation of the laws of all nations, fiom living
among those who were satisfied with what had been known
on these subjects two thousand years ago ? and who com¬
pelled the noble and aspiring youth of the country com¬
mitted to their charge to draw the principal part of their
information with respect to politics and philosophy from
the politics and the logic of Aristotle?1
Something had occurred, while Smith was at Oxford, to
excite the suspicions of his superiors with respect to the
nature of his private pursuits ; and the heads of his college,
having entered his apartment without his being aware, un¬
luckily found him engaged reading Hume’s Treatise of
Human Nature. The objectionable work was, of course,
seized; the young philosopher being at the same time re¬
primanded.
He continued, subsequently to his return from Oxford
in 1747, for nearly two years at Kirkcaldy, with his mother.
He had been sent to Oxford that he might qualify himself
for entering the Church of England. The ecclesiastical
profession was not, however, agreeable to his taste. And,
in opposition to the advice of his friends, he resolved to
devote himself exclusively to literary pursuits.
In the latter part of the year 1748, Smith fixed his re¬
sidence in Edinburgh, where he was prevailed upon by
Lord Kames, and some of his other friends, to deliver, during
that and the two following sessions, courses of lectures on
rhetoric and belles lettres. These were well attended by
an audience composed chiefly of students of law and theo¬
logy. Among his pupils were Mr Wedderburn, afterwards
Lord Loughborough; Mr William Johnstone, afterwards
Sir William Pulteney Johnstone, Bart.;2 Dr Blair, &c.;
with all of whom he subsequently continued on the most
intimate terms. It was at this period also that he laid the
foundation of that friendship with David Hume which
lasted, without the slightest interruption, till the death of
the latter.
No part of these lectures has been published; but it
would appear from the statement of Blair, who commenced
his lectures on rhetoric and belles lettres in 1758, ten years
after Smith’s first course, that they had been reduced into
a systematic shape. In a note to his eighteenth lecture,
Blair mentions that he had borrowed several of the ideas
respecting the general characters of style, particularly the
plain and simple, and the characters of those English authors
by whom they have been most successfully cultivated, from
a manuscript treatise of Smith on rhetoric, of which the
author had shown him a part.
It may be worthy of notice that Smith’s was the first
course of lectures on polite literature given in Scotland.
It was followed by lectures on the same subject by Dr
Watson, author of the History of Philip II. And a taste
for such prelections being introduced, a chair of rhetoric was
established by the crown in the University of Edinburgh
in 1760, and endowed with a salary of L.70 a-year, to which
Dr Blair was appointed as first professor. We may fur¬
ther add, in illustration of the progress of this interesting
study, that Lord Karnes’ Elements of Criticism was ori¬
ginally published in 1762; Dr Campbell’s excellent work
on the Philosophy of Rhetoric in 1776; and Dr Blair’s
useful and admirable lectures in 1783. Such were the fol¬
lowers of Smith in this peculiar department of literature ;
and it is but seldom that an impulse given by one indi¬
vidual is so vigorously and successfully followed up.
Smith’s increasing celebrity, and the strong recommen- Smith,
dations of Lord Kames and other distinguished persons, Adam,
procured for him, in 1751, the honour of being elected v"*’
professor of logic in the University of Glasgow ; and in the
following year he was elevated to the chair of moral philo¬
sophy in the same university, vacant by the death of Mr
Craigie, the immediate successor of the celebrated Dr
Hutcheson, under whom Smith had formerly studied, and
for whom he justly entertained the highest regard. Of the
offices to which he might have been appointed, this was
probably the most suitable to his peculiar talents, and
afforded the best opportunity for employing them to the
greatest advantage. It is not, therefore, surprising that
he considered the thirteen years during which he continued
in Glasgow as the happiest portion of his life. At the same
time, it seems reasonable to conclude that his professional
pursuits must have materially contributed to mature his
speculations in morals and politics, and, consequently, to
determine him to undertake the great works which have
immortalised his name.
Mr Millar, author of the Historical View of the English
Government? and professor of law in the University of
Glasgow, had the advantage of Hearing Smith’s course of
lectures on moral philosophy, of which he has given the
following account
“ His course of lectures was divided into four parts. The
first contained natural theology, in which he considered
the proofs of the being and attributes of God, and those
principles of the human mind upon which religion is
founded. The second comprehended ethics, strictly so
called, and consisted chiefly of the doctrines which he
afterwards published in his Theory of Moral Sentiments.
In the third part, he treated at more length of that branch
of morality which relates to justice, and which, being sus¬
ceptible of precise and accurate rules, is for that reason
capable of a full and particular explanation.
“ Upon this subject he followed the plan that seems to
be suggested by Montesquieu; endeavouring to trace the
gradual progress of jurisprudence, both public and private,
from the rudest to the most refined ages, and to point out
the effects of those arts which contribute to subsistence,
and to the accumulation of property, in producing corre¬
sponding improvements or alterations in law and govern¬
ment. This important branch of his labours he also in- s
tended to give to the public; but his intention, which is
mentioned in the conclusion of the Theory of Moral Senti¬
ments, he did not live to fulfil.
“ In the last part of his lectures he examined those poli¬
tical regulations which are founded, not upon the principle
of justice, but that of expediency, and which are calculated
to increase the riches, the power, and the prosperity of a
state. Under this view, he considered the political insti¬
tutions relating to commerce, to finances, to ecclesiastical
and military establishments. What he delivered on these
subjects contained the substance of the work he afterwards
published under the title of An Inquiry into the Nature
and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.
“ There was no situation in which the abilities of Dr
Smith appeared to greater advantage than as a professor.
In delivering his lectures, he trusted almost entirely to ex¬
temporary elocution. His manner, though not graceful,
was plain and unaffected; and, as he seemed to be always
interested in the subject, he never failed to interest his
hearers. Each discourse consisted commonly of several
1 It is perhaps unnecessary to observe, that these remarks apply only to the state of education at Oxford at the period when it was
ttended by Smith. Latterly it has been very much improved, though the constitution of the university opposes formidable obstacles
o the introduction of the best system. ^ d i* u-
2 This gentleman, a younger son of Sir James Johnstone, Bart, of Westerhall, assumed the name of Pulteney on his marrying the
Countess of Bath, the heiresf to the property and honours of the famous parliamentary leader, Pulteney, first earl of Bath. He founded,
n 1790, the chair of agriculture in the University of Edinburgh, and endowed it with a salary of L.oO a year.
s A work overrated when it first appeared, and now too much neglected.
SMITH.
Smith, distinct propositions, which he successfully endeavoured to
Adam, prove and illustrate. These propositions, when announced
in general terms, had, from their extent, not unfrequently
something of the air of a paradox. In his attempts to ex¬
plain them, he often appeared, at first, not to be sufficiently
possessed of the subject, and spoke with some hesitation.
As he advanced, however, the matter seemed to crowd
upon him, his manner became warm and animated, and his
expression easy and fluent. In points susceptible of con¬
troversy, you could easily discern that he secretly conceived
an opposition to his opinions, and that he was led upon
this account to support them with greater energy and vehe¬
mence. By the fulness and variety of his illustrations, the
subject gradually swelled in his hands, and acquired a di¬
mension which, without a tedious repetition of the same
views, was calculated to seize the attention of his audience,
and to afford them pleasure, as well as instruction, in fol¬
lowing the same object through all the diversity of shades
and aspects in which it was presented, and afterwards in
tracing it backwards to that original proposition or general
truth from which this beautiful train of speculation had pro¬
ceeded.
“ His reputation as a professor was accordingly raised
very high, and a multitude of students from a great dis¬
tance resorted to the university merely upon his account.
1 hose branches of science which he taught became fash¬
ionable at this place, and his opinions were the chief
topics of discussion in clubs and literary societies. Even
the small peculiarities in his pronunciation or manner of
speaking became frequently the objects of imitation.”
Smith made his debut as an author, by contributing,
anonymously, two articles to the Edinburgh Review, com¬
menced in 1755, of which two numbers only were pub¬
lished. rIhe first of these articles is a review of John¬
son’s Dictionary, and the second a letter to the editor, con¬
taining some observations on the literature of the different
European countries. The latter is worth notice as evincing
the attention paid by Smith to continental literature at
a period when it was comparatively neglected in Scot¬
land.
In 1759 Smith published his Theory of Moral Senti¬
ments. He had been engaged for a very considerable period
in the composition of this work, which is finished throughout
with the greatest care. It is bottomed on the principle
that sympathy forms the real foundation of morals ; that we
do not immediately approve or disapprove of an action on
becoming acquainted with the intention of the agent and
the consequences of what he has done, but that we pre¬
viously enter, by means of that sympathetic affection which
is natural to us, into the feelings of the agent and those to
whom the action relates; that, having considered all the
motives and passions by which the agent was actuated, we
pronounce with respect to the propriety or impropriety of
the action, according as we sympathise or not with him ;
while we pronounce, with respect to the merit or demerit
of the action, according as we sympathise with the grati¬
tude or resentment of those who were its objects, and that
we necessarily judge of our own conduct by comparing it
with such maxims and rules as we have deduced from ob¬
servations previously made on the conduct of others.
“ Whatever judgment,” says Smith, “ we form with re¬
spect to our own motives and actions, must always bear
some secret reference either to what are, or to what, upon
a certain condition, wrould be, or to what we imagine ought
to be, the judgment of others. We endeavour to examine
our own conduct as we imagine any other fair and impar-
339
tial spectator would examine it. If, upon placing ourselves Smith,
in his situation, we thoroughly enter into all the passions Adam!
and motives which influenced it, we approve of it by sym-
pathy with the approbation of this supposed equitable judge.
If otherwise, we enter into his disapprobation, and con¬
demn it.”1
Several, and, as it is now generally admitted, some un¬
answerable objections have been urged against this very
ingenious theory.2 But whatever opinion may be enter¬
tained with regard to the truth of the leading principle
which it involves, the Theory of Moral Sentiments is in¬
comparably the best, or rather it is the only great ethical
work in the English language. It everywhere evinces
great ingenuity, subtilty, and depth of thought. These,
however, are the least of its excellences. Its conclusions
are all practical, just, and true. The different passions,
affections, and characters of the different classes of men,
are delineated with singular fidelity. What is proper and
praiseworthy in them is carefully discriminated from what
is improper and blameworthy. The disturbing influences
of fortune and of custom over our estimates of merit and
demerit are skilfully appreciated ; and the soundest maxims
for the regulation of our conduct under every variety of
circumstances are everywhere met with, and set in so clear
a light that they are impressed even on the most careless
readers. The style unaffected, copious, and, though some¬
times redundant, always eloquent, is worthy of the subject.
I he richness of its colouring relieves the dryness of some
of the more abstract discussions, while it gives additional
force and embellishment to the powerful recommendations
of generous, upright, and virtuous conduct, which are pro¬
fusely scattered throughout the work, and are obviously the
author’s favourite topics.
The accounts which Smith has given in his last volume
of the principal systems of moral philosophy are infinitely
superior to anything of the kind that had previously ap¬
peared ; and are said by an excellent judge, M. Cousin,3
to be imbued with the true spirit of philosophical history.
The account of the “ Stoical Philosophy” deserves espe¬
cial notice. It is a beautiful exposition of a difficult sub¬
ject, and is as correct in its statements as it is felicitous in
its language.
It may be worth while, perhaps, to observe, that Dr
Gillies has affirmed, in a note to his translation of Aris¬
totle’s ethics and politics,4 that Smith was indebted for the
principle of his theory to a statement of Polybius, in his
General History (Book vi., ex. 1). But though the passage
referred to be a remarkable one, it is doubtful whether it
ever attracted the notice of Smith; and though it had,
there is an immeasurable difference between a brief state¬
ment, or hint, like that in question,- and the well digested
system expounded in the Theory of Moral Sentiments.
The principle of sympathy had, indeed, been always well
known, not to Polybius only, but to everybody. It was
remarked nearly two thousand years ago :—
“ Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent,
Humani vultus: Si vis me flere, dolendum est,
Primum ipsi tibi; tunc tua me infortunia laedent.”
Hoe. Ars Poetica, 1. 101.
Smith’s peculiar merit does not lie in his having made
sympathy the keystone of his system, for that is its cardinal
defect, but it lies, as Stewart has justly stated, in his having
availed himself of that principle to give a systematical
view of all the principal doctrines and discussions embraced
in the science of ethics, and in the beauty of his illustrations.
^ Theory of Moral Sentiments, part iii., chap. 1.
Brown’s ZecAires, iv., pp. 77-116, edit. 1824; Stewart’s Active and Moral Powers, i., pp. 308-316, and note C; Mackintosh On the
xrogress of Ethical Philosophy, by Whewell, pp. 232-242 ; Cousin Cours de VHistoire de la Philosophic Moderne, iv., pp. 192-278, ed. 1846 :
JJictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques, vi., p. 661, art. “Smith,” &c.
Cours de VHistoire de la Philosophic Moderne, iv., 249, ed. 1846. * Third edition, i., 302.
34(j
SMITH.
Smith,
Adam.
And considered in this point of view, the Theory of Moral
Sentiments is a highly original work.
Having published the substance of so important a part
of his lectures, Smith was enabled to make considerable
retrenchments from the ethical part ot his course, and to
give a proportional extension to the disquisitions on juris¬
prudence and political economy. He had long been in the
habit of embodying the results of his studies and investiga¬
tions with respect to both these departments of political
science, but particularly the latter, in his lectures. And it
appears from a statement which he drew up in 1755, to
vindicate his claims to certain political and literary opinions,
that he had been in the habit of teaching from the time he
obtained a chair in the University of Glasgow, and even
when at Edinburgh, the same enlarged and liberal doc¬
trines with respect to the freedom of industry, and the in¬
jurious influence of restraints and regulations, which he
afterwards so fully established in the Wealth of Nations.
His residence in a large commercial and manufacturing
city, like Glasgow, gave him a considerable advantage in
the prosecution of his favourite studies, by affording means
of easily obtaining that correct practical information on
many points, which cannot be found in books, and by en¬
abling him to compare his theoretical doctrines with the
experimental conclusions of his mercantile friends. Not¬
withstanding the alleged disinclination of men of business
to listen to speculative opinions, and the opposition of his
leading principles to the old maxims of trade, he was able,
before leaving the university, to rank some eminent mer¬
chants among his proselytes.
The publication of the Theory of Moral Sentiments
brought a vast, accession of reputation to Smith; and placed
him, in the estimation of all who were qualified to form an
opinion on such a subject, in the first rank of moralists and
of able and eloquent writers.
In 1762 the Senatus Academicus of the University of
Glasgow unanimously conferred on him the honorary de¬
gree of Doctor of Laws,1 in testimony, as it is expressed
in the minutes of the meeting, of their respect for his uni¬
versally acknowledged talents, and of the advantage that
had resulted to the university from the ability with which
he had for many years expounded the principles of juris¬
prudence. But the most important effect of his increasing
celebrity, in so far at least as respected himself, was his re¬
ceiving in 1763 an invitation from Mr Charles Townshend,
who had married the widow of the Earl of Dalkeith, to
attend her ladyship’s son, the young Duke of Buccleuch, on
his travels ; and the advantageous terms that were offered,
combined with his strong desire to visit the Continent, in¬
duced him to accept the offer, and to resign his chair at
Glasgow. “ With the connection which he was led to
form in consequence of this change in his situation,” says
Stewart, “ he had reason to be satisfied in an uncommon
degree, and he alwavs spoke of it with pleasure and grati¬
tude. To the public it was not perhaps a change equally
fortunate ; as it interrupted that studious leisure for which
nature seems to have destined him, and in which alone he
could have hoped to accomplish those literary projects Smith,
which had flattered the ambition of his youthful genius.” Adam.
Smith set out for France in company with his noble
pupil in March 1764. They remained only a few days at
Paris on their first visit to that capital, but proceeded to
Toulouse, where they continued for about eighteen months.
This being a considerable city, and at that time the seat of
a parliament, the society in it may be presumed to have
been a good deal superior to that of most country towns;
and Smith no doubt availed himself of it, and of the leisure
he then enjoyed, to perfect and extend his knowledge of
the literature, internal policy, and state of France. He
has told us that he was not disposed to place much con¬
fidence in the facts and reasonings of political arithmeti¬
cians ; and it is evident from his rarely making statements
on the authority of others, and from his occasionally refer¬
ring to circumstances connected with Toulouse, Geneva,
and other places which he visited, that he was chiefly in¬
debted to his own observation and inquiries for his exten¬
sive information in regard to the institutions, habits, and
condition of the French people.2
After leaving Toulouse, Smith and his noble pupil pro¬
ceeded to Geneva, where they resided two months. They
returned to Paris at Christmas, 1765, and remained there
for nearly a year. During the whole of this period,
Smith lived on an intimate footing with the best society
in that city, to which his friendship with Hume greatly
facilitated his introduction. Turgot, afterwards comptroller-
general of finance, D’Alembert, Helvetius, Marraontel, the
Abbe Morellet,3 the Duke of la Rochefoucault, Count Sars-
field, BufFon, the Baron D’Holbach, Madame Riccoboni,
Mademoiselle de L’Espinasse, &c., were of the number of
his acquaintances; and some of them he continued ever
after to reckon among his friends. He was also on familiar
terms with Quesnay, the author of the economical theory;
and there is every reason to think that he derived consider¬
able advantage from his intercourse with that able and
excellent person, than whom none was better qualified to
strike out original and ingenious views. So sensible, in¬
deed, was Smith of his merits as a man and a philosopher,
that he intended, had he not been prevented by Quesnay’s
death, to have left a lasting testimony of the high place
which he held in his estimation by dedicating to him the
Wealth of Nations. s
In October 1766, the Duke of Buccleuch, accompanied
by Smith, returned to London. The latter soon after re¬
moved to his old residence at Kirkcaldy, w here he remained,
with little interruption, for about ten years, habitually occu¬
pied in study, and in the elaboration of his great work.
This, however, was not a ta^k but a labour of love, labor
ipse voluptas. In a letter to Hume, written in 1767, he
says, “ My business here is study, in which I have been
deeply engaged for about a month past. My amusements
are, long and solitary walks by the sea-side. You may judge
how I spend my time. I feel myself, however, extremely
happy, comfortable, and contented. I never was, perhaps,
more so in my life. You will give me great comfort by
1 Smith did not assume this distinction, in private life, but contented himself with printing it on the titles of his works. He had, in
truth, little or no respect for academical honours, w'hich he has characterised in very depreciatory terms.
2 It has always appeared to us as a singular and not easily explained fact, that notwithstanding their familiar acquaintance with the
state of France, we do not find either in Hume or Smith any anticipation, how faint soever, of the tremendous convulsion of which that
country was, at no distant period, the theatre. And yet it had given numerous, and those not obscure, indications of its approach. It
is curious, that what had thus escaped the observation of the two most eminent philosophers of the age should have been clearly discerned
and pointed out by Smollett. See his Travels, ii., p. 197, ed. 1766.
3 The paragraph which follows is extracted from the Memoires of the Abbe Morellet, published in 1821. ‘! J’avais connu Smith dans
un voyage qu’il uvait fait en France, vers 1762; il parlait fort mal notre langue; mais sa Thtorie des Sentimens Moraux, publi6e en
>17o9, m avait donne une grande idee de sa sagaciie et de sa profondeur. Et veritablement je le regarde encore aujourd'hui comme un
des hommes qui a fait observations et les analyses les plus completes dans toutes les questions qu'il a traitees. M. Turgot, qui aimait
ainsi que moi la metaphysique, estimait beaucoup son talent. Nous le vimes plusieurs fois ; il fut presente chez Helvetius: nous par-
lames th^orie commerciale, barque, credit public, et de plusieurs points du grand ouvrage qu’il meditait. Il me fit present d’un fort
joli portefeuille anglais de poche, qui etait d son usage, et dont je me suis servi vingt ans.” (Tome i., p. 237.)
SMITH.
341
Smith, writin": to me now and then, and letting me know what is
Adiim. passing among my friends in London.” And so, with a few
—V—^ short intervals, he went on, till, in 1776, an aera that will
be for ever memorable in the history of political philosophy,
the Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of
Nations was given to the world. We have elsewhere exa¬
mined most part of the leading theories and conclusions
advanced in this famous work. (See Introduction to Article
Political Economy.) At present, it is enough to observe,
that despite its imperfections in a scientific point of view,
the objections that have been made, and not without justice,
to its arrangement, and the many changes that have taken
place since its publication in the policy and condition of
nations, its celebrity is in no degree diminished. It is not
in truth a book for one country or one age, but for all
countries and all ages; and will always be regarded as a
noble monument of profound thinking, various learning, and
persevering research, applied to purposes of the highest in¬
terest and importance.
Little needs be said in regard to the originality of the the¬
ories advanced by Smith. We have shown, in the article
referred to, that some of the most important doctrines em¬
bodied in the Wealth of Nations, had been distinctly
announced, and that traces, more or less faint, of the re¬
mainder may be found in various wmrks published previously
to its appearance. But this has little or nothing to do with
the peculiar merits of Smith ; and in no respect invalidates
his claim to be considered as the real founder of the science
of political economy. Some of its disjecta membra had,
indeed, been discovered, with indications of the others.
But their importance, whether in a practical or scientific
point of view, and their dependence on each other, were all
but wholly unknown. They formed an undigested mass,
without order or any sort of rational connection; what was
sound and true being frequently (as in the theory of the eco¬
nomists) closely linked to what was false and contradictory
Smith was the enchanterwho educed order out of this chaos—
“ E tenebris tantis tam clarutn extollere lumen
Qui primus potuisti, inlustrans commoda vitae.”
And in such complicated and difficult subjects, a higher
degree of merit belongs to the party who first establishes
the truth of a new doctrine, and traces its consequences and
limitations, than to him who may previously have stumbled
upon it by accident, and dismissed it as if it were value¬
less. He did not, like the greater number of his prede¬
cessors, build his conclusions on metaphysical abstrac¬
tions, or on the partial and distorted statements of interested
or prejudiced parties, but on a careful review and analysis
of the more prominent circumstances connected with the
progress of society from antiquity down to his own times.
And none will be surprised that, in taking, for the first
time, so wide a survey, he sometimes overlooked a prin¬
ciple, or was deceived in regard to its influence or ope¬
ration, and that, in consequence, some parts of his book
are defective or erroneous. This, however, is but rarely
the case. He had none of that impetuous rashness
which, while it satisfies itself with hasty and superficial
investigations, pushes with unhesitating confidence every
theory, however narrow or ill-founded, to an extreme.
On the contrary, he was slow and circumspect. And
without seeking to establish new doctrines, was influ¬
enced by a sincere desire to trace and discover the
natural and sound principles of public economy, however ^
obscured by sophistry or encumbered by error, and to ex¬
hibit what he believed would be found to be their practical
working, if allowed to come into free operation. In pursu¬
ing his laborious inquiries, his caution and his unequalled
sagacity never forsook him. And the real wonder is, that
a work involving so many abstruse researches and conflict¬
ing considerations as that of Smith, should have so few
blemishes, and be so nearly perfect as we find it to be. It
contains a greater number of useful and readily available
truths than are to be found in any other publication; and
it pointed out and smoothed the path by following which
subsequent inquirers have been able to perfect much which
its author left incomplete, to rectify the mistakes into which
he fell, and to make many new and important discoveries.
Whether, indeed, we refer to the soundness of its leading
doctrines, the liberality and universal applicability of its
practical conclusions, or the powerful and beneficial influence
it has had on the progress of economical science, and on
the policy and conduct of nations, the Wealth of Nations
must be placed in the foremost rank of those works which
have helped to liberalise, enlighten, and enrich mankind. '
By showing that the real and lasting interests of nations
are always best promoted by cultivating a fair and friendly
intercourse with their neighbours, and that the jealousies
and fears that were formerly entertained of the advance of
others in wealth and civilisation, are as unfounded as they
are malevolent and base, the Wealth of Nations has contri¬
buted, in no ordinarydegree, to weaken national antipathies,
and to lessen the chances of war. Its influence in this
respect has been well illustrated by Mr Buckle, who does
not hesitate to affirm, that *• Adam Smith contributed more,
by the publication of this single work, towards the happi¬
ness of man, than has been effected by the united abilities
of all the statesmen and legislators of whom history has pre¬
served an authentic account.” 1 2
Hume, who was then labouring under his last illness,
addressed a congratulatory letter to Smith on the publica¬
tion of the Wealth of Nations. And it is a curious fact,
that he pointed out in that letter what is the principal de¬
fect of the work, viz., the erroneous view which it gives of
the nature and causes of rent. He says, “I cannot think
that the rent of farms makes any part of the price of pro¬
duce.” It is not known whether Hume had directly
arrived at this conclusion, or had derived it at second band,
from the writings or conversation of Dr Anderson,3 by whom
it had been already established. But it is singular, seeing
that his attention had been directed to tbe subject by one
he so greatly esteemed, that Smith did not submit his
statements in regard to rent to a more searching and caie-
ful analysis. Had he done this, he would most probably
have adopted the views of Anderson and Hume, and mate¬
rially improved his work.3
Smith survived the publication of the Wealth of Lsations
fifteen years. He had the satisfaction to see it translated
into all the languages of Europe; to hear his opinions
quoted in the House of Commons; to be consulted by the
minister; and to observe that the principles he had expounded
Smith,
Adam.
1 History of Civilization, vol. i., p. 197, 2d ed. The following characteristic eulogy of Smith proceeds from a very high quarter, bu
one whence, perhaps, it would ha,dly be expected. “ By the bye, the excise instructions you mentioned were not in the bunule, but ti
no matter. Marshall in his Yorkshire and particularly that extraordinary man, Smith, in his Wea/fA of Nations, find my leisure employ¬
ment enough. I could not have given any mere wan credit for half the intelligence Mr Smith iscovers in is oo . T?U , ,C°V„
much to have his ideas respecting the present state of some quarters of the world that are, or ave een. .le !’ceIJf8 0 consi ®ia 6 J.u
volutions since his book was written.” (Letter of Robert Burns to Mr Graham of Fintry, 13th May 1789, in the Supplement to the 4th
volume (p. 329) of Chambers’iii/e o/TJarns.) , _ r1 n t tuv
2 See a notice of Anderson, and of his Exposition of the Theory of Rent, in the art. POLITICAL 1 CONO, .
3 In the copy of the letter now referred to, given by Stewart in his Life of Smith, the important paiagrap re a ing o ren s mi .
Another paragraph is also omitted, in which Hume expressed his belief that the statement in regard to the seignorage charged on coins
in France was not well founded. And in that case too he was quite right.
342 S M I T H.
Smith, were beginning to produce a material change in the public
Adam, opinion, and in the councils of this and other countries.
And he must have enjoyed the full conviction that the
progress of events would ensure their ultimate triumph, by
showing that they were productive of signal advantage, not
only to the general mass of mankind, but to the inhabitants
of every country which should have good sense enough to
adopt them.
Hume died soon after the Wealth of Nations made its
appearance. Smith, with whom he had lived on the most
intimate terms, was most solicitous in his attentions to his
illustrious friend during his illness; and gave an interesting
account of the circumstances connected with his death, and
a sketch of his character, in a letter addressed to Mr •
Strahan, of London, which was soon after published as a
supplement to Hume’s autobiography. In it he says that
he considered that his deceased friend “had approached
as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man,
as, perhaps, the nature of human frailty will permit.” This
unqualified eulogium having given offence to many who
dissented from Hume’s opinions in regard to religion, was
much found fault with. Dr Horne, bishop of Norwich, the
most distinguished of those by whom it was censured,
attacked Smith, in an anonymous pamphlet, with consider¬
able asperity; and unwarrantably ascribed to him, for he
had no sure grounds to go upon, the same sceptical tenets
that had been entertained by Hume.1 But he took no
notice of this effusion ; and wisely declined entering upon a
controversy which could have no useful result.2
Smith resided principally in London during the two years
immediately subsequent to the publication of the Wealth of
Nations, enjoying the society of some of the most distin¬
guished persons in the metropolis. In his conversation,
though never in his writings, his judgments of men and
things were often precipitate, dogmatical, and erroneous.
But he was always ready, on being better informed, to re¬
view and amend his inconsiderate decisions.3 And his
friends, while they not unfrequently dissented from his
opinions, were pleased with his straightforwardness, want
of pretension, and intellectual ability.
In 1778 he was appointed, through the spontaneous
application of his old pupil and friend, the Duke of Buc-
cleuch, a commissioner of customs for Scotland.4 In con¬
sequence, he removed to Edinburgh, where he continued
afterwards to reside, possessed of an income more than
equal to his wants, and in the society of his most esteemed
friends. He was accompanied to his new residence by his
mother, then in extreme old age, and by his cousin, Miss
Douglas, who superintended the domestic arrangements
and economy of his family. ' Adlm
But though highly creditable to the nobleman by whose
intervention it was procured, his appointment to the cus¬
toms5 was little in harmony with the tastes of Smith, while
it seriously interrupted or terminated those pursuits in
which he might have continued to render invaluable ser¬
vices. The philosopher who had, for the first time, fully
explored and laid open the true sources of national wealth
and prosperity, deserved a different if not a higher reward.
There were thousands of persons who could have performed
the duties of a commissioner of customs quite as well as Smith,
or perhaps better; but there was not one, besides himself,
who could give that “ account of the general principles
of law and government, and of the different revolutions
they have undergone in the different ages and periods of
society,”6 which it was his intention to give. And he would
most probably have fulfilled this intention had not the
well-earned bounty of the public been clogged by the
performance of petty routine duties which engrossed the
greater part of his time, and left him little or no leisure
for study.
Smith paid several visits to London after his appoint¬
ment to the customs. And we are told by Mr Paterson
that on the last of these occasions he dined at Wimbledon
with Mr Dundas, afterwards Lord Melville, and that Mr
Pitt, Lord Grenville, and Mr Addington were of the party.
Smith happening to come late, the company had already
sat down to dinner. On his entering the room, they stood
up ; and when he begged of them to be seated, they an¬
swered, “ No, we must stand till you are seated, for we
are your scholars !” This was a 'flattering compliment;
and in so far true, that the distinguished guests, Mr Pitt
and Lord Grenville, were really what they professed to be,
pupils of Smith.
We may, perhaps, be permitted farther to observe, that
in the matter now referred to, or in his general, though
not very intimate acquaintance with economical subjects,
Mr Pitt had a material advantage over his great rival, Mr
Fox. The latter admitted that he had never read the Wealth
of Nations, and that “ there was something in those sub¬
jects which passed his comprehension.”7 But, however
well-founded it might be, no parliamentary leader would
now venture to make such a confession. To his ignorance v
of the sound principles of national intercourse, we may,
perhaps, mainly ascribe the determined opposition made by
Fox to Pitt’s proposals for modifying and in part rescinding
the restrictions, which a jealous and short-sighted policy
1 Had the bishop looked ever so cursorily into the Theory of Moral Sentiments, he would have seen that there was a material difference
between Smith’s theological opinions and those of Hume.
2 It has been stated over and over again, and among other places, in an article in the Quarterly Review, written by Sir Walter Scott,
and in the Edinburgh Review, in an article by Jeffrey (vol. Ixxiii., p. 51), that having met in Glasgow, Dr Johnson attacked Smith in
the most outrageous manner for having written this notice of Hume, and that Smith retorted in terms no less rude and offensive. But
though apparently well vouched, it is certain that no such unphilosophical rencontre did, or in fact could take place; and for this" plain
reason, that Johnson visited Glasgow in 1773, and that Hume did not die till 1776. Johnson and Smith did meet in London, and did
not, to use Johnson’s phrase, “ take to each other;” but there is not a vestige of ground for supposing that any scene similar to that
referred to above ever took place between them. See further Boswell’s Life of Johnson, by Croker, 1 vol. 8vo, p. 393, &c.
3 Robertson calls them “ prompt and vigorous.” See Gibbon’s Miscellaneous Works, vol. ii., p. 255, 8vo ed. 5
4 On receiving this appointment, Smith expressed his wish to resign the annuity of L.300 a year which had been settled upon him
by the Duke’s trustees at the time when he resigned his professorship to accompany his grace on his travels. But it is hardly necessary
to add that this offer was at once declined, and that Smith continued to enjoy the annuity till his death. We are indebted for this fact
and for others to the notice of Smith in Kay’s Collection of Portraits, edited by Mr James Paterson. It is like the rest of the work
carefully compiled, and contains authentic information not to be elsewhere met with.
5 Lord Brougham, in his Life of Smith, is extremely indignant at this proceeding, which he seems to regard in nearly the same light
with the making of Burns an exciseman at a salary of L.70 a year! But however unsuitable to his tastes and talents, it is absurd to
compare this recognition of Smith’s services with the mean occupation and beggarly pittance awarded to Burns. The learned lord says
that such a thing as Smith’s appointment could not happen again; but this is by no means clear, at least if he mean that nothing so
paltry will be again offered to any distinguished individual. When he censured Lord North’s government for having made Smith a
commissioner of customs, his lordship might have recollected that he had himself been a conspicuous member of a government which
took no notice of Malthus, and rewarded the lengthened and faithful services, the various learning, and splendid talents of Mackintosh,
by a seat at a board from which he might be dismissed at any moment, and where he had neither influence nor consideration.
See the concluding paragraph of the Theory of Moral Sentiments.
? Butler s Reminiscences, vol, p. 173.
SMITH.
343
had imposed on the trade with Ireland, and to the com¬
paratively liberal commercial treaty negotiated vvith France
in 1786. But there can be no doubt that party consider¬
ations had also a good deal to do with these discreditable
displays. The reader will not be surprised to learn that
this conduct on the part of Fox greatly lessened the
high estimation in which he had been previously held by
Smith.
In 1787 Smith was elected Lord Rector of the University
of Glasgow. On this occasion he addressed a letter to that
learned body, which strikingly evinces the high sense he
felt of this honour, and his regard for those from whom it
emanated. “ No perferment,” says he, “ could have given
me so much real satisfaction. No man can owe greater
obligations to a society than I do to the University of
Glasgow. They educated me; they sent me to Oxford.
Soon after my return to Scotland, they elected me one of
their own members; and afterwards preferred me to another
office, to which the abilities and virtues of the never-to-
be-forgotten Dr Hutcheson had given a superior degree of
illustration. The period of thirteen years, which I spent as
a member of that society, I remember as by far the most
useful, and therefore as by far the happiest and most
honourable, period of my life; and now, after three-and-
twenty years’ absence, to be remembered in so very agree¬
able a manner by my old friends and protectors, gives me
a heart-felt joy which I cannot easily express to you.’
His constitution, which had at no time been robust, be¬
gan early to give way ; and his decline was accelerated by
the grief which he felt on account of the death of his mo¬
ther, in 1784, and of Miss Douglas, in 1788. He survived
the latter only about two years, having died on the 17th
July 1790. His last illness, which was occasioned by a
chronic obstruction of the bowels, was both tedious and
painful. He bore it with the greatest fortitude ; and had
all the consolation that could be derived from the attention
of his friends, and from their sympathy and that of his fel¬
low-citizens.
In a letter written by Mr Smellie, to a friend in London,
about three weeks before Smith’s death, we find the follow¬
ing statement:—“ Poor Smith ! We must soon lose him ;
and the moment in which he departs will give a heartfelt
pang to thousands. His spirits are flat, and I am afraid
the exertions he sometimes makes to please his friends do
him no good. His intellects, as well as his senses, are
clear and distinct. He wishes to be cheerful, but Nature
is omnipotent. His body is extremely emaciated, because
his stomach cannot admit of sufficient nourishment; but,
like a man, he is perfectly patient and resigned.”1
Smith was no speculative moralist, no pseudo-liberal, no
eulogist of virtues which he failed to practise. He had the
utmost contempt, which he never hesitated to express in
the most decided manner, for whatever was insincere, mean,
or malignant. His integrity and truthfulness were unim¬
peached and unimpeachable. Unsuspecting and warm in
his affections, he was most anxious, on all occasions, to pro¬
mote the interests of his friends; and his generosity was
limited only by his means. He was in the habit of allot¬
ting a considerable part of his income to offices of secret
charity. Stewart mentions that he had been made acquainted
with some very affecting instances of his beneficence. “ They
were all,” he observes, “ on a scale much beyond what
might have been expected from his fortune; and were ac¬
companied with circumstances equally honourable to the
delicacy of his feelings and the liberality of his heart.” This
was no doubt the cause that the property which he left at
his death was not such as might have been expected from
his income, and the moderate, though gentlemanlike, scale
of his household expenditure.
Smith was deeply versed in the history and philosophy of
antiquity. Flis acquaintance with English, French, and
Italian literature was, also, intimate and critical; and it
might be said of him, as it was said of his countryman
Buchanan, that he was omni liberali eruditione non leviter
tinctus, sed penitus imbutus. He had a strong relish for
the beauties of poetry, Homer, Virgil, Tasso, and Ariosto,
being among his chief favourites. But his studies and spe¬
culations were directed more to what was useful and im¬
portant, than to what was elegant and entertaining. And
he looked with a scrutinising eye into the history of the
rise, progress, and decline of nations, and of the revolutions
of art, science, and taste, that he might thence deduce the
principles and practical results embodied in his works.
He never separated the honestum from the utile. And
his principles and theories were valuable only in his estima¬
tion as they contributed to promote the freedom, the virtue,
and the wellbeing of mankind.
He acquired an extensive,2 well-selected, and valuable
collection of books, which he prized very highly, in most
departments of philosophy, literature, and science. It was
bequeathed, along with his other property, to his cousin,
David Douglas, Esq., who eventually became a judge of
the Court of Session in Scotland, under the courtesy title
of Lord Reston. At the death of the latter, the library was
equally divided between his two daughters and co-heiresses,
and is still in their possession.3
Notwithstanding the apparent flow and artlessness of his
style, and his great experience in composition, Smith stated,
not long before his death, that he continued to compose as
slowly, and with as great difficulty, as at first. He did not
write with his own hand, but generally walked up and down
his apartment, dictating to an amanuensis,4 a habit which
may in part, perhaps, account for that repetition and diffuse-
ness of style which is so observable in both his works,
but especially in the Wealth of Nations. He regarded
the works of Middleton as affording the best specimens of
English composition; and he was accustomed to recom¬
mend the careful study of his Life of Cicero to all who
wished to write easily, perspicuously, and in correct Eng¬
lish.
The want of notes, and the fewness of references to au¬
thorities, may be mentioned as a peculiarity of Smith’s writ¬
ings ; and one in which they differ very widely from those
of his contemporaries, Hume and Robertson, especially the
latter. Stewart says, that “ Smith considered every species
of note as a blemish or imperfection, indicating either an
idle accumulation of superfluous particulars, or a want of
skill and comprehension in the general design.”5 Although,
however, it must be admitted that Robertson in his Histo¬
ries of Charles V. and America, has embodied in notes a
large amount of interesting matter which might have been
advantageously incorporated with the text, Smith has cer-
Smith,
Adatn.
1 Letter, 27th June 1790; Kerr’s Life, of Smellie, p. 205. 2 Probably about 5000 volumes.
3 Smellie, in his account of Smith, says, “ The first time I happened to be in his library, observing me looking at the books with some
degree of curiosity, and perhaps surprise, for most of the volumes were elegantly, and some of them superbly bound, ‘ You must have
remarked,’ said he, ‘ that I am a beau in nothing but my books.’ ” (Smellie’s Lives, p. 296J We have seen the books, and we doubt
whether their condition warrants the account given of them by Smellie. They seem to have been neatly, and in some instances ele¬
gantly bound; but we saw few or none of which the binding could, with much propriety, be said to have been superb. But, inde¬
pendently of their condition, they are a most interesting collection ; and it were much to be wished that they were preserved entire in
some public institution.
4 Stewart states that all Hume’s works were written with his own hand ; and that the last volumes of his History were printed from
the original copy, with only a few marginal corrections.
Account of the Life and Writings of Robertson, p. 142.
344 SMITH.
Smith, tainly carried the opposite practice to an extreme. It is
Adam, impossible, indeed, to lay down any precise rules on a sub-
ject of’ this sort, or to say positively when notes or refer¬
ences had better be made or omitted. But their total or
nearly total omission seems to be quite as objectionable
as their excess. At all events, there does not appear to
be much room for doubting that the arrangement of
the Wealth of Nations would have gained materially in
clearness and simplicity, had the author adopted, in part at
least, the plan of Robertson, and thrown some of the nume¬
rous digressions by which the thread of the investigation is
interrupted into the form of notes or supplementary chap¬
ters. And there are many occasions when a reference to
the facts or authorities on which an argument is founded
would have given it additional strength, and been satisfac¬
tory to the reader.
Smith had early resolved that such only of his manu¬
scripts as were, in his own estimation, fit for publication
should ever see the light. And the resolution to which he
had thus unfortunately come was carried into effect a few
days before his death, when all his papers were committed
to the flames, excepting parts of essays, intended to illus¬
trate the principles that lead and direct philosophical in¬
quiries, which he left to his friends to publish or not as they
thought proper. The contents of the manuscripts that
were destroyed are not exactly known ; but they certainly
comprised the course of lectures on rhetoric and belles lettres
delivered at Edinburgh in 1748, and the lectures on juris¬
prudence and natural religion, which formed a most im¬
portant part of the course of moral philosophy delivered at
Glasgow. The loss of the latter must ever be a subject of
deep regret, and is, in truth, one of the most serious which
philosophy has to deplore. We are ignorant of the motives
which determined Smith to enforce their destruction.
Stewart surmises that it was not so much on account of
any apprehended injury to his literary reputation from the
publication of such unfinished works, as from an anxiety
lest the progress of truth should be retarded by the state¬
ment of doctrines of which the proofs were not fully deve¬
loped ; but this is doubtful.
The following observations on the private character and
habits of Smith proceed from the pen of Dugald Stewart,
who knew- him well, and who was the last survivor of that
galaxy of illustrious men who shed, during the latter portion
of last century, so imperishable a glory over the literature
of Scotland. “ The more delicate and characteristical
features of his mind,” Stewart observes, “it is perhaps im¬
possible to trace. That there were many peculiarities,
both in his manners and in his intellectual habits, was
manifest to the most superficial observer; but although, to
those who knew him, these peculiarities detracted nothing
from the respect which his abilities commanded; and, al¬
though to his intimate friends they added an inexpressible
charm to his conversation, while they displayed, in the
most interesting light, the artless simplicity of his heart,
yet it would require a very skilful pencil to present them
to the public eye. He was certainly not fitted for the
general commerce of the world, or for the business of ac¬
tive life. The comprehensive speculations with which he
had been occupied from his youth, and the variety of ma¬
terials which his own invention continually supplied to his Smith
thoughts, rendered him habitually inattentive to familiar Adam!
objects, and to common occurrences ; and he frequently
exhibited instances of absence, which had scarcely been
surpassed by the fancy of La Bruyere.1 Even in com¬
pany he was apt to be engrossed with his studies; and ap¬
peared at times, by the motion of his lips, as well as by his
looks and gestures, to be in the fervour of composition. I
have often, however, been struck, at the distance of years,
with his accurate memory of the most trifling particulars ;
and am inclined to believe, from this and some other cir¬
cumstances, that he possessed a power, not perhaps un¬
common among absent men, of recollecting, in consequence
of subsequent efforts of reflection, many occurrences which,
at the time when they happened, did not seem to have
sensibly attracted his notice.
“ I o the defect now mentioned it was probably owing, in
part, that he did not fall in easily with the common dia¬
logue of conversation, and that he was somewhat apt to
convey his own ideas in the form of a lecture. When he
did so, however, it never proceeded from a wish to engross
the discourse, or to gratify his vanity. His own inclina¬
tion disposed him so strongly to enjoy in silence the gaiety
of those around him, that his friends were often led to con¬
cert little schemes, in order to engage him in the discus¬
sions most likely to interest him. Nor do I think I shall
be accused of going too far when I say, that he was scarcely
ever known to start a new topic himself, or to appear un¬
prepared upon those topics that were introduced by others.
Indeed, his conversation was never more amusing than
when he gave a loose to his genius upon the very few
branches of knowledge of which he only possessed the out¬
lines.2
“ The opinions he formed of men, upon slight acquaint¬
ance, were frequently erroneous; but the tendency of his
nature inclined him much more to blind partiality than to
ill-founded prejudice. The enlarged views of human affairs,
on which his mind habitually dwelt, left him neither time
nor inclination to study, in detail, the uninteresting peculi¬
arities of ordinary characters; and accordingly, though in¬
timately acquainted with the capacities of the intellect and
the workings of the heart, and accustomed in his theories
to mark, with the most delicate hand, the nicest shades,
both of genius and of the passions, yet, in judging of Indi¬
viduals, it sometimes happened that his estimates were, in a
surprising degree, wide of the truth.
“ 1 he opinions, too, which in the thoughtlessness and
confidence of his social hours he was accustomed to hazard
on books, and on questions of speculation, were not uni¬
formly such as might have been expected from the supe¬
riority of his understanding, and the singular consistency
of his philosophical principles. They were liable to be in¬
fluenced by accidental circumstances, and by the humour
of the moment; and, when retailed by those who only saw
him occasionally, suggested false and contradictory ideas of
his real sentiments. On these, however, as on most other
occasions, there was always much truth, as well as in¬
genuity in his remarks; and if the different opinions which,
at different times, he pronounced upon the same subject
had been all combined together, so as to modify and limit
1 Some instances of this sort, and of his peculiarities in other respects, have been specified in an article in the Quarterly Review; but
of thece some have been shown to be quite apocryphal {ante, p. 342), and they are all too evidently caricatured to warrant any confi¬
dence being placed in them.
2 According to Boswell, Smith once told Sir Joshua Reynolds “ that he made it a rule, when in company, never to talk of what he
understood.” {Boswell's Johnson, by Croker, 8vo, p. 662.) But, if ever made, this must have been a mere jocular assertion, and doubt¬
less was so understood by Reynolds. Boswell, however, takes it in its literal sense, and explains it by saying that it proceeded from
Smith having “ book-making much in his thoughts,” and being “ chary of what might be turned to account in that way.” But though
sufficiently characteristic of Boswell, nothing can be more opposed than this statement to all that is known of Smith. It may be safely
affirmed that no great author ever less deserved to be twitted with book-making than he did. And the notion that his conversation
was influenced by a regard to his prospective interests in that rather humble occupation, is so inexpressibly mean and absurd, that one
is surprised at its having occurred even to Boswell.
S M I T H.
Smith, each other, they would probably have afforded materials
Adam, for a decision, equally comprehensive and just. But, in
the society of his friends, he had no disposition to form those
qualified conclusions that we admire in his writings; and
he generally contented himself with a bold and masterly
sketch of the object, from the first point of view in which
his temper or his fancy presented it. Something of the
same kind might be remarked when he attempted, in the
flow of his spirits, to delineate those characters which, from
long intimacy, he might have been supposed to understand
thoroughly. The picture was always lively and expressive,
and commonly bore a strong and amusing resemblance to
the original, when viewed under one particular aspect; but
seldom, perhaps, conveyed a just and complete conception
of it in all its dimensions and proportions. In a word, it
was the fault of his unpremeditated judgment to be too
systematical and too much in extremes.
“ But, in whatever way these trifling peculiarities in his
manners may be explained, there can be no doubt that they
were intimately connected with the genuine artlessness of
his mind. In this amiable quality he often recalled to his
friends the accounts that were given of good La Fontaine ;
a quality which in him derived a peculiar grace from the
singularity of its combination with those powers of reason
and of eloquence, which, in his political and moral writings,
have long engaged the admiration of Europe.
“In his external form and appearance there was nothing
uncommon. When perfectly at ease, and when warmed
with conversation, his gestures were animated, and not un¬
graceful ; and, in the society of those he loved, his features
were often brightened with a smile of inexpressible be¬
nignity. In the company of strangers his tendency to
absence, and perhaps still more his consciousness of this
tendency, rendered his manner somewhat embarrassed—
an effect which was probably not a little heightened by
those speculative ideas of propriety which his recluse habits
tended at once to perfect in his conception, and to diminish
his power of realising. He never sat for his picture ; but
the medallion of Tassie conveys an exact idea of his profile,
and of the general expression of his countenance.”1
Thus far Stewart. Smellie says, “ In his deportment,
when walking, there were some singularities. His head
had a gentle motion from side to side; and his body, at
every step, had a kind of rolling or vermicular motion, as if
he meant to alter his direction, or even to turn back. In
the street, or elsewhere, he always carried his cane on his
shoulder as a soldier does his musket. These may be con¬
sidered as slight shades, but, in a picture, slight shades are
often highly characteristic.” {Lives, p. 296.)
We may further add, that Smith was about the middle
size, well made, and stout, though not fat or corpulent.
His countenance, which was manly and agreeable, inclined
more to the Saxon than the Celtic caste, and was well
lighted up by his large, expressive, grey eyes. His dis¬
position was social in the extreme, especially in his own
house, and in the company of his early friends. His Sun¬
day suppers were long celebrated in Edinburgh circles.
The following is a list of the published works of
Smith:—
1. Two articles in the Edinburgh Review for 1755,
being (1) a Review of “Johnson’s English Dictionary;”
and (2) “A Letter to the Editors.”
2. Theory of Moral Sentiments. The first edition of this
work was published in 8vo, early in 1759. The sixth edition
was published a short time before the author’s death. It
contains several additions, most of which were executed
during his last illness.
345
3. Considerations concerning the, first Formation of Smith
Languages, and the different Genius of Original and Adam!
Compounded Languages. i j
I his essay was originally subjoined to the first edition of
the Moral Sentiments. It is an ingenious and pretty suc¬
cessful attempt to explain the formation and progress of
language, by means of that species of investigation to which
Dugald Stewart has given the appropriate name of Theo¬
retical or Conjectural History; and which consists in
endeavouring to trace the progress and vicissitudes of any
art or science, partly from such historical facts as have refe¬
rence to it, and, where facts are wanting, from inferences
derived from considering what would be the most natural
and probable conduct of mankind under the circumstances
supposed.
4. An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth
of Nations. rlhe first edition was published at London
in 1776, in two volumes 4to. The fourth edition, which
was the last published by the author, appeared, in three
vols. 8vo, in 1786.
5. His posthumous works, or those which he exempted
from the general destruction of his manuscripts, and which
were published by his friends, Doctors Black and Hutton.
Ihese gentlemen, in an advertisement prefixed to the
publication, state that, when the papers which Dr Smith
had left in their hands were examined, “ the greater num¬
ber appeared to be parts of a plan he had once formed for
giving a connected history of the liberal sciences and ele¬
gant arts.” “ It is long,” they add, “ since he found it neces¬
sary to abandon that plan, as far too extensive; and these
parts of it lay beside him neglected until his death. The
reader will find in them that happy connection, that full
and accurate expression, and that clear illustration, which
are conspicuous in the rest of his works; and though it is
difficult to add much to the great fame he so justly acquired
by his other writings, these will be read with satisfaction
and pleasure.” The papers in question comprise:—I. Frag¬
ments of a great work “ On the Principles which lead and
direct Philosophical Inquiries, illustrated—(1) by the His¬
tory of Astronomy; (2) by the History of the Ancient
Physics; and (3) by the History of the Ancient Logics
and Metaphysics.” II. An essay entitled, “ Of the Nature
of that Imitation which takes place in what are called the
Imitative Arts.” HI. A short tract, “ Of the Affinity
between certain English and Italian Verses.” IV. A dis¬
quisition, “ Of the External Senses.”
Of the historical dissertations, the first only, on the
History of Astronomy, seems to be nearly complete. They
are all written on the plan of the dissertation on the For¬
mation of Languages, being partly theoretical, and partly
founded on fact. In the essay on the History of Astronomy,
after premising some speculations with respect to the effects
of unexpectedness and surprise, and of wonder and novelty,
the author proceeds to give a brief outline of the different
astronomical systems, from the earliest ages down to that
of Newton.
The fragments that remain of the other two historical
essays are much less complete, and do not possess the inte¬
rest of the latter.
Smith contends, in the essay on the Imitative Arts, that
the pleasure derived from them depends principally upon
the difficulty of the imitation, or, as he has expressed it,
“ upon our wonder at seeing an object of one kind repre¬
sent so well an object of a very different kind, and upon
our admiration of the art which surmounts so happily that
disparity which nature had established between them.” On
this principle he explained the preference so generally
Along with the medallion referred to, Tassie executed for Smith medallions of his friends—Dr Black, the chemist, Dr Hutton, the
geologist, Dr Reid of Glasgow, and Mr Lumisden, probably the author of the valuable work on the Antiquities of Rome. These inter¬
esting relics are now in the possession of Dr Bannerman.
VOL. XX. 2 X
346
SMITH.
Smith, given in tragedy to blank verse over prose; and Stewart
Edmund, mentions that, for the same reason, he was inclined to
prefer rhyme in tragedy to blank verse, and that he ex¬
tended the same principle to comedy 51 and even went so
far as to regret that the graphic delineations of real life and
manners, exhibited on the English stage, had not been sub¬
jected to the fetters of rhyme, and executed in the man¬
ner of the French. But these conclusions were entirely
consistent with his general views as to taste in composition.
He was a firm adherent of the classical school. The prin¬
cipal tragedies of Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire, the
comedies of Moliere, and the verses of Boileau, Pope, and
Gray, had, in his estimation, reached the highest degree
of excellence.
The short essay, Of the Affinity behveen certain English
and Italian Verses, is curious rather than valuable. It
however, illustrates the variety of the author’s literary
pursuits.
The disquisition with respect to the External Senses
is of considerable extent; and is a valuable contribution to
the science of which it treats. (j. r. m.)
Smith, Edmund, or Neale, for such was his father’s
name, an English poet, who gained some reputation in Dr
Johnson’s time for the elegance of his poetic genius, was
born at Handley, in Westmoreland, in 1668. He was
educated at Westminster and Oxford, where he took his
degree of M.A. on the 8th of July 1696. Giving high
promise both at school and college of his future eminence,
his friends watched his progress with the liveliest interest.
As so frequently happens with young men of genius, he
got into irregular habits, and pestered the authorities of his
college by his tavern brawls and general riotous behaviour.
The Oxford dignitaries showed great forbearance to the
young scapegrace, but without effect. In his life of Smith,
Dr Johnson has recorded that he was silently expelled on
December 20, 1705; but a writer in the Gentleman's
Magazine, for September 1822, contradicts this statement.
At all events he came shortly afterwards to London, where
he was favourably introduced to the theatre by Addison
and Prior. His drama of Phcedra and Hippolitus was
acted for the first time on the 21st of April 1707, but while
it pleased the critics with the fine elegance of its classical
mythology, the public, for whose amusement it was de¬
signed, unfortunately thought little, and cared less, for the
beauties of mere classical allusion, and it was allowed to
fall into oblivion before it had been enacted four times.
Smith was too proud, or too indolent, or too shy to ensure
its success by the regular band of applauders, and he found,
to his mortification, that it was incapable of standing by its
naked excellence. His Oxford ode on the death of Pocock,
the orientalist, was reckoned, by Dr Johnson, the best
lyrical composition of any that had appeared among modern
writers. “ Captain Rag,” for such was the name he bore
at Oxford, continued to please his friends by his varied
knowledge and by the brilliancy of his conversation; but
continued also to disgust them by the depth of his potations.
It was said of Smith’s friend, Phillips, the poet, “ that he
was never good company till he was drunkbut it was
said of Smith himself, that he was never good company
“ but while he was sober.” He was, however, in his lucid
moments a ready and exact critic, who had the faculty of
seeing into the merits or demerits of a production at a
glance. His casual censures or praises dropped in con¬
versation, were, like those of the elder Scaliger, thought
worthy of preservation by his friends. He had a great
opinion of his own merits, and like most vain men, he did
not escape the scorn and contempt of those who were much
his inferiors. He died in the month of July 1710, of too Smith,
large a doze of medicine, which he had taken in boastful ®ir James
contempt of the cautions of the apothecary. He was buried E<iw|'ar(l
at Hartham, in Wiltshire. Oldisworth has left a highly
laudatory notice of Smith, and Dr Johnson has assigned James and
him a niche in his gallery of the poets. Horace.
Smith, Sir James Edward, the purchaser of the collec-
tions and library of Linnaeus, and the founder of the Lin-
naean Society, was born at Norwich, on the 2d December
1759. His father was a man of cultivated mind, and being
in prosperous circumstances was capable of affording his
son an excellent education. Young Smith early inherited
the taste for flowers peculiar to natives of Norwich, sup¬
posed to have been introduced into the place by the Flemish
weavers who took refuge in England from the tyranny of
the Spaniards. He proceeded to Edinburgh 'in 1781,
where he obtained the gold medal for the best botanical
collection. Accidentally hearing that Linnaeus’s collection
was to be disposed of, he prevailed upon his father to ad¬
vance the sum of L.1088, 5s., which made him the possessor
of that splendid museum. Smith settled in London, with
the intention of practising his profession. He subsequently
made a tour on the continent, obtained an M.D. at Leyden,
and published the result of his travels on his return to
London. In 1788 he founded the Linnaean Society, and
was chosen its first president. In 1792 he was employed
to teach botany to Queen Charlotte and the Princesses;
in 1796 he removed to Norwich; and in 1814 he was
knighted as institutor and president of the Linnaean So¬
ciety. The most popular of his works are his English
Botany, in 36 vols., 1792-1807; Biographical Memoirs
of several Norwich Botanists, 1803; Flora Britannica,
3 vols., 1800-1804; the English Flora, 4 vols.; Flora
Grceca, from Dr Sibthorpe’s Materials, 1808; and Florce
Grcecce Prodromus, 1808. He was likewise author of the
botanical articles and of the botanical biography in Rees’s
Cyclopaedia, from the letter C. (See his Memoir by his
widow, 2 vols., 1833.)
Smith, James and Horace, the authors of the Rejected
Addresses, were the sons of Robert Smith, Solicitor to the
Board of Ordnance. James was born in London, on the
10th of February 1775, and Horace was born in the same
place, on the 31st December 1779. James Smith was
educated under the Rev. Mr Burford, at Chigwell in
Essex, was articled to his father on completing his educa¬
tion, was subsequently taken into partnership with him,
and ultimately succeeded to his father’s business. Horace,
after receiving a similar education, became a stockbroker,
acquired a fortune, and retired to Brighton. James, who
lived and died single, was the author of several pieces in
prose and verse, entirely of a comical description, which
were collected after his death by his brother, and published
under the title of Memoirs, Letters, and Comic Miscel¬
lanies, 2 vols., 1840. Besides contributing to various periodi¬
cals, he likewise wrote many of the amusing trifles for the
“ At Home” of the elder Mathews, and that comedian
used to say of him, that he was the only man in London
who could write good nonsense. After spending much of
his time in society, for which both the Smiths were well
suited, being men of fine appearance and possessing good
conversational powers, he was ultimately confined to his
house with gout. He died on the 24th December 1839,
in the sixty-fifth year of his age.
Horace Smith contributed short pieces to various periodi¬
cals, among which may be mentioned his papers in the
New Monthly Magazine, then edited by Campbell the poet.
He was likewise author of some twenty three-volume novels,
1 Boswell mentions, that having told Johnson how much Smith preferred rhyme to blank verse, Johnson said, “ Sir, I was once in
company with Smith, and we did not take to each other; but had £ known that he loved rhyme as much as you tell me he does, I should
have hugged him.” [Boswell's Johnson, by Croker, p. 146.)
m
S M I T H. 347
Smith, which were little known beyond the circulating libraries,
John Pye. jf we except his Brambletye House, which was better
v'—v*'/ received by the public. He died on the 12th of July
1849.
The work by which the brothers Smith are now best
known, and by which they will long be remembered, is the
Rejected Addresses, or the New Theatrum Poetarum, first
published in 1812, and which has gone through upwards of
twenty editions. The idea having been suggested by Mr
Ward, secretary to the Drury Lane theatre, six weeks
before the address was to be spoken, the brothers Smith
eagerly set to work, and completed their delightful little
volume within the required time. James supplied the imi¬
tations of Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, Crabbe, and
Cobbett, and numbers 14, 16, 18, 19, and 20. The Byron
was a joint effusion, James writing the first stanza, and
Horace the remainder. Horace Smith supplied the rest
of the volume. The copyright was purchased by Mr Murray,
after the book had run through sixteen editions, for L.131,
although he originally declined giving L.20 for it.
Smith, John Pye, an eminent dissfenting divine, was born
at Sheffield on the 25th day of May 1774. His father,
John Smith, was a bookseller of some note in that town;
and there is every reason to believe that young Smith was
chiefly indebted for his early education to the books in his
father’s shop. At an early age he manifested great fond¬
ness for reading, and frequently when sent on errands he
would be seen poring over a book by the roadside, some¬
times even forgetting what he was sent to do. Some note¬
books, written between his twelfth and sixteenth year, show
his reading at that early age to have been of an extensive
and miscellaneous character. However objectionable this
mode of education may be in general, we believe that in
Smith’s case it was not without its advantages. It not only
gave him a taste for extensive and varied reading, but it
also fostered that freedom of thought, and fearlessness in
the search of truth, that afterwards specially characterised
him.
It was in his sixteenth year that the doctrines of Christi¬
anity took hold on his heart, and gave that direction to his
thoughts and studies that eventually led to his devoting
himself to the ministry. In the first place, however, he
was in 1790 apprenticed to his father, and served for five
years. During this period his readings partook more of a
theological character, and his writings manifest a high and
growing spirit of Christianity. In 1796, while Mr James
Montgomery, the proprietor and editor of the Sheffield Iris,
was undergoing imprisonment for his alleged libel, the edi¬
torial duties of that paper were entrusted to Mr Smith, and
were satisfactorily discharged by him from February to
August. In September of the same year he entered the
Independent Academy at Rotherham, with a view to the
ministry; and at that time he is said to have been not only
a superior linguist, but to have been also skilled in natural
history, anatomy, and several branches of medicine. During
the four years that he remained there, his active mind was
not content with mastering the regular studies of the place,
but likewise carried him into other departments of learning ;
so that among his fellow-students he was distinguished as
well by the variety of his attainments as by the compara¬
tive ease with which he imbibed all kinds of useful know¬
ledge. Such was his scholarship that, on completing his
curriculum at Rotherham, he was chosen Resident Classical
Tutor at Homerton College, and then was formed a con¬
nection which existed for the long period of fifty years, till
Homerton was merged in New College. In 1801 he mar¬
ried a lady, who unfortunately was a very unsuitable com¬
panion for one of his character and circumstances, but
with whose weaknesses he uncomplainingly bore for more
than thirty years. It is the more necessary to mention this,
as it interfered in many ways with his usefulness, depriving
him of his times for study, and shutting him up from social Smith,
intercourse with his students and others. It also led to his John Pye.
resigning his resident tutorship in 1807. In 1803 he
opened the hall of the academy for public worship, and next
year some of his stated hearers formed themselves into a
church, and invited him to become their pastor. He was
accordingly ordained on the Jlth of April 1804, and re¬
tained the pastoral oversight of this congregation for almost
forty-six years. Towards the close of 1810 his hearers
had so increased that it became necessary to provide a
larger place of worship, and accordingly they removed to
the Old Gravel Pit Meeting House, and from this time
Dr Smith had two regular services on Sunday, and two
on week days, till the appointment of his colleague in
1846.
In 1804 appeared his “Letters to the Rev. Thomas
Belsham (a Unitarian), on some important subjects of
Theological Discussion,” the first work that established his
reputation, and led to his receiving, in 1807, the degree of
D.D. from Yale College, Newhaven, Connecticut. On
the commencement of the Eclectic Review Mr Smith be¬
came a contributor, and continued to furnish it with occa¬
sional articles for forty years. In 1806, a vacancy having
occurred in the theological tutorship, Mr Smith was re¬
quested to occupy that chair, and a new classical tutor was
appointed. In 1818 appeared the first volume of his largest
work, The Scripture Testimony to the Messiah, the second
and concluding volume of which was published in 1821.
A second edition, in 3 volumes, appeared in 1829; a third
in 1837; and a fourth, in 2 volumes, in 1847. The second
edition was much improved and enlarged, especially by the
fruits of his greatly extended researches in German litera¬
ture, and each succeeding edition was enriched by the re¬
sults of his continued labours. Such was the high character
of this work, that though by a Dissenter, it received the
high honour of being admitted as an authority in the English
universities. In 1835 he received the diploma of LL.D.
from Marischal College, Aberdeen. Dr Smith’s other great
work, On the Relation between the Holy Scriptures and
some parts of Geological Science, appeared in 1839, being
eight lectures delivered for the congregational library in that
year. This work was also, by the author, carried through
four editions, each greatly improved and extended, and led
to his being admitted a Fellow of the Royal Society in
1840. Dr Smith was the author of a number of other
works, which we have not enumerated,—as a list of them
will be found appended to his Memoirs by Medway. In
1843, after more than ten years of widowhood, Dr Smith
again married, and this time his choice fell upon one well
suited to comfort and solace him in his declining years.
He was now requested to again accept the office of resi¬
dent tutor, which he cheerfully did, and continued to fill
till the breaking up of the establishment in 1850. On
retiring from active duty in last mentioned year, his friends
and admirers testified their esteem for him by raising a
sum of L.2600, the interest to provide an annuity for him
while he lived, and afterwards to form divinity scholarships
in connection with New College, which were to bear his
name. The testimonial was presented to him at a public
breakfast of the 8th of January 1851, and on the 5th of the
succeeding month his spirit quietly left its mortal tenement,
in the seventy-seventh year of his age. For nearly the
whole of his public life Dr Smith was afflicted with deaf¬
ness, which increased so much that at length it was only
with difficulty that he could be made to receive any com¬
munications by the ear.
Dr Smith’s was an active and vigorous, rather than a high
cast of intellect. Its power lay more in the arranging and
systematising of facts, than in the discovering or exploring
of them. It had little of what is called originality, but
was marked by great power of imbibing and assimilating
348
s m ;
Firrith, all kinds of knowledge. This, coupled with his great indus-
John try and singular perseverance, which continued undiminished
Thomas. c|own t0 near t]ie c]ose of his life, earned the encomium
passed upon him by his colleague, Dr William Smith, that
“ there are few men in the present day who have embraced
a greater sphere of knowledge, or mastered a greater num¬
ber of subjects.”
But it is in his moral and religious nature that we meet
with the most distinguishing features of his character. He
was eminently a sincere and true man — sincere in his
beliefs, true to his convictions. However much one may
be inclined to differ from him on certain points, yet no one
can doubt the sincerity with which he held them. His
sincerity made him ever ready to do battle for what he
believed to be the truth, and not the less ready to yield
whenever he saw that his opinions were untenable—never
maintaining a controversy merely for the sake of argument.
His sanguine nature led him to throw himself heart and
soul into whatever was before him, so that what many are
content to hold loosely as matters of opinion, became to
him matters of belief and principles of action. His whole
powers seemed to be actuated and regulated by a high
moral sense of duty, so that acts seemingly the most trifling
were to him matters of conscience; and even a verbal
error appeared to offend his moral feelings. High as was
his standard of duty, he acted up to it to a degree that is
rarely to be met with. “ He lived,” says his biographer,
“ in strict conformity, both as to letter and spirit, with his
rules for others,” to an extent that “ was often matter of
surprise and admiration while he was with us.” Such was
the strength of this principle within him, that towards his
death, when his other powers are declining, it comes into
painful prominence. He had for many years abstained
from spirituous liquors, holding it to be “a duty which we
owe to God and to our fellow-creatures, to bear a practical
testimony against this usage;” and when, a few weeks
before his death, a medical friend recommended his taking
a little brandy, he emphatically said “ Never;” and turning
to his wife, added, “ My dear, I charge you, if such remedy
be proposed when I am incompetent to refuse, let me die
rather than swallow the liquid.” His piety was an emi¬
nently active and living principle, stimulating and directing
his ardent desire in the pursuit of knowledge, as well as
sanctifying his whole life and conduct. He took a lively
interest in politics, especially in such questions as were
more immediately connected with the social interests of
the nation; and he was an active supporter of the peace
society. His Memoirs, by Mr John Medway, appeared
in 1853.
Smith, John Thomas, keeper of the prints and drawings
in the British Museum, was the son of Nathaniel Smith,
formerly a sculptor, and afterwards a printseller, who had
been an early friend of the artist Nollekens, was born on
the 23d of June 1766. The younger Smith was engaged
in his youth in the studio of Nollekens, and afterwards be¬
came a pupil of the eminent engraver, John Keyse Sherwin.
He commenced the publication of his Antiquities of Lon¬
don and its Environs, illustrated by 96 plates, in 1791,
and completed it in 1800. His next work was Remarks
on Rural Scenery, 1797, and which was illustrated by 20
etchings. His Antiquities of Westminster was illustrated
by 246 engravings, many of them consisting of representa¬
tions of objects and of curious paintings, no longer in exist¬
ence. Sixty-two additional plates were published in 1809,
without any letterpress, forming volume second of the
Antiquities. In 1815 appeared his best work, the Ancient
Topography of London. It was illustrated by 32 boldly
etched plates, accompanied by descriptions of the buildings
represented. Smith received his appointment at the British
Museum in 1816, and next year appeared his Vagabondi-
ana, or Anecdotes of Mendicant Wanderers through the
T H.
Streets of London, illustrated with 30 portraits, and an Smith,
introduction by Francis Douce. The last literary produc- Joseph
tion of Smith was more amusing than honourable. This |
was a book on Nollekens and his Times, which was pub- s™lth>
lished in 1828, and though it attained to a considerable y ney
popularity, it was obviously the production of a disappointed "
man. Smith had been appointed an executor to Nollekens,
and was mortified at not being made a legatee. He unfor¬
tunately wrote under the excitement of feeling occasioned
by this circumstance, and took advantage of his intimate
acquaintance with Nollekens and his affairs in dragging
before the public much that was never intended for publi¬
city. Smith had a considerable share of humour in his
composition, as a small paragraph written by him in the
album of his friend Upcott still testifies. “I can boast,”
he says, “ of seven events, some of which great men would
be proud of. I received a kiss, when a boy, from the
beautiful Mrs Robinson; was patted on the head by Dr
Johnson; have frequently held Sir Joshua Reynold’s spec¬
tacles ; partook of a pot of porter with an elephant; saved
Lady Hamilton from falling when the melancholy news
arrived of Lord Nelson’s death; three times conversed
with King George III.; and was shut up in a room with
Mr Kean’s lion.” Smith died in his sixty-seventh year, on
the 8th of March 1833. (See Gentleman!s Maqazine for
1833.)
Smith, Joseph. See Mormonism.
Smith, Sydney, one of the wittiest and wisest churchmen
which England has known during the present century, was
born at Woodford, in Essex, in 1771. His father, who
was a clever, sagacious man, with very odd ways, after
wandering all over the world, at last settled down at
Bishop’s Lydiard, in Somerset. His mother was of
French extraction, and Smith was accustomed to attribute
not a little of his constitutional gaiety to this infusion of
foreign blood. In after years, Sydney was fond of repre¬
senting, in his peculiar way, that the “ Smiths never had
any arms, and have invariably sealed their letters with
their thumbs;” and was fond of repeating the answer of
Junot to the old noblesse when boasting of their ancestry,
“ Ah, ma foi! je n’en sais rien ; moi je suis mon ancetre.”
Sydney was the second of four boisterous, overbearing, in¬
tellectual young athletes, as old Smith calls them, who,
according to an original view of their father’s, were sent to
different schools, to weed out of them the strong personal
rivalry which existed at home. Robert, or “ Bobus,” as
he was called, had the good fortune to be sent to Eton,
where he established for himself that character for learning
and intellectual power which so greatly distinguished him
in after years; while Sydney was admitted to the founda¬
tion at Winchester. In spite of “ hunger and neglect,” he
soon rose to be captain of the school, and to be foremost in
every frolic. The Winchester boys were glad when it be¬
came the captain’s turn to set out for Oxford; for “ one
could never get any prizes where those Smiths were.” A
touch of sorrow mingled with their joy, however, as they
looked on that bright manly face for the last time. To have
been still possessed of his gay leadership in all their mad
pranks, they would gladly have foregone all the prizes.
After a visit of six months to Normandy, he entered New
College, Oxford, in 1780, and was chosen a fellow ten
years afterwards. He had to contend with the sharp pinch-
ings of poverty during his university career, which was per¬
haps better for his head than it was for his heart. At all
events, he, who afterwards became one of the most social
spirits in all England, lived in those days much out of
society. His own inclination led him to the bar, but his
father’s finances had been so much drained by equipping
his other sons for the world, that Sydney was prevailed
upon to enter the church. With a shrug he complied with
his father’s wishes, although, with such shining talents as he
SMITH.
349
Smith, possessed, he would doubtless have attained a much greater
Sydney, pre-eminence in connection with the legal profession, than
^ a man of his liberality would be able to gain in connec¬
tion with the English Church. Smith accordingly became
a curate of the Church of England, in a small village in the
midst of Salisbury Plain. Of all places in the world, this
was the very last for a man who, like Sydney Smith, pos¬
sessed such powers of wit and conversation. Yet he con¬
trived to show to his people, that “ in the midst of worldly
misery, he had the heart of a gentleman, the spirit of a
Christian, and the kindness of a pastor.” The squire was
the only person he could speak to in the place, and he
stormed his affections so completely, that in two years he
appointed him tutor to his son. He accordingly bade
good-bye to Nether-Avon, and, in 1797, started for Edin¬
burgh with his young charge. The political state of the
continent of Europe at that time compelled the annual
tourists and others to find out some more fitting place for
their sojourn, and Edinburgh was selected as the most
fashionable and the most cultivated city open to English¬
men in the later years of the eighteenth century. The
northern metropolis at that day presented one of the
brightest galaxies of talent of any city in the world. There
were Jeffrey, Horner, Playfair, Walter Scott, Dugald Stew¬
art, Brougham, Allen, Thomas Brown, Murray, Leyden,
Lord Webb Seymour, Lord Woodhouselee, Alison, Sir
James Hall, and many others, whose lights are now well-
nigh all gone out. Society, besides, was on the easiest and
most agreeable footing in Edinburgh at the time; its inha¬
bitants were simple, and its hospitality was of the most
generous kind. Sydney Smith could hardly have hap¬
pened better had he made a personal selection, than to
be thrown upon the generosity and talent of Edinburgh half
a century ago. The peculiarities and foibles of the Scotch
struck his English eye as exceedingly ludicrous. He says,
in his exaggerating way, that “ it requires a surgical opera¬
tion to get a joke well into a Scotch understanding.” Smith
must have been well skilled in that delicate art by the time
he left Edinburgh, for he practised it daily, and took
lessons likewise in the theory of medicine as then taught in
the university. Edinburgh was at that day so much given
over to metaphysics, that he says its fair citizens were ac¬
customed to make love metaphysically. During his resi¬
dence in Edinburgh he married an English lady, and set
a-going with Jeffrey and Brougham the Edinburgh Review.
“ Towards the end of my residence in Edinburgh,” says
Smith, “ Brougham, Jeffrey, and myself happened to meet
in the eighth or ninth storey or flat in Buccleuch Place,
the then elevated residence of Mr Jeffrey. I proposed
that we should set up a Review. This was acceded to with
acclamation ; I was appointed editor, and remained long
enough in Edinburgh to edit the first number of the Re-
view. The motto I proposed for the Review was, Tenui
musam meditamur avena {we cultivate literature on a
little oatmeal); but this was too near the truth to be ad¬
mitted, so we took our present grave motto from Publius
Syrus, of whom none of us had, I am sure, read a single
line; and so began what has since turned out to be a very
important and able journal. When I left Edinburgh it fell
into the stronger hands of Lord Jeffrey and Brougham, and
reached the highest point of popularity and success.” It is
impossible here to exhibit even in the briefest manner the
enormous influence of that journal in letting in the light
upon crazy institutions, in sweeping away those barriers
to progress which ignorance and bigotry had raised, and
in promoting the general cause of toleration and philan¬
thropy, both in literature and in politics. It is not saying
too much to assert that a large share of the success which
attended the early life of that adventurous publication was
due to the Rev. Sydney Smith. He was always proud of
his connection with it, and in those days, to be an Edin¬
burgh Reviewer and a Churchman was judged nearly as
incompatible as to be a justice of the peace and a pick¬
pocket in one person. Common justice and common sense
were the two poles, so to speak, between which all his
faculties moved. His flashing wit, his sturdy understand¬
ing, his airy fancy, his kindly benevolence, and the exube¬
rant luxury of his talk, all found play between the springs
of sense and rectitude. In his writings he seems to have
had no youth. He was much too great a wit to fall into
the blundering extravagance peculiar to young writers.
While his articles gained in staidness and in wisdom, they
lost not a spark of that brilliance which wit and sense had
originally lent them. Leaving Edinburgh in 1804, he car¬
ried south with him to London perhaps the largest stock of
animal spirits then possessed by any individual in Eng¬
land. He became an earnest and rousing preacher at
the Foundling Hospital; delivered clever, witty lectures,
on what he chose to call “ Moral Philosophy,” at the
Royal Institution; became famous as a “diner out;” and
more famous still as a contributor to the savage northern
Review.
On the triumph of the Whigs in 1806, Lord Erskine pre¬
sented Smith with the living of Foston-le-Clay in Yorkshire.
In the summer of 1807 appeared the celebrated Letters of
Peter Plymley on the subject of the Roman Catholics,
which burst over England like a thunder-cloud. They lay
on every table ; they were discussed by every coterie which
design or chance had brought together; their periodical
publication was eagerly anticipated; the curiosity of the
public had become irrepressible; but the secret of their
authorship could not be cleared up. There were doubtless
cultivated individuals who knew Sydney Smith who har¬
boured secret suspicions, assured as they were that no man in
England could convey so much sound sense and unanswer¬
able argument on the vehicle of irresistible wit and plea¬
santry, except the obscure preacher at the Foundling Hos¬
pital. But such men were content to hold their tongues
until the correspondent of “my dear Abraham” was dis¬
posed to disclose himself.
Smith having removed his family to Yorkshire, began the
work of his pastorate in right earnest. The prospect of the
place on his arrival was of the most forbidding character;
yet the gaiety of his disposition had life and heat in it capable
of warming a county. In the first place, the parsonage-
house was the meanest hovel, in which there had not been
a resident clergyman for 150 years, and the church bore
the nearest resemblance to a barn. Add to this, that the
ground was so impassable that any ordinary foot sunk in it
beyond reach of recovery, and Mrs Smith actually lost her
shoe on her first attempting to walk on Yorkshire soil. In
the second place, his rustic flock were so unaccustomed to the
sights of civilised life, that the half of the parish would turn
out to witness a four-wheeled carriage, or a gentleman in a
superfine coat. If such was the outside of these Yorkshire
folks, one may faintly guess what sort of furniture adorned
the interior of them. His attention to medicine here stood
him in good stead. He preached, doctored, lectured,
talked, and joked to the Yorkshiremen, till they would have
laid down their lives for him. He designed, built, and
completed one of the ugliest parsonage-houses that ever eye
had looked on ; but it had the rare advantage of being one
of the most commodious houses one could choose to live in.
Nothing could be plainer than his table. He never affected
to be what he was not. He strove to inculcate upon his
family throughout life his favourite motto, “ Avoid shame,
but do not seek glory; nothing so expensive as glory.” He
studied literally in the midst of his family; and the talking
and music, that would have distracted another mind, only
seemed to lend him renewed stimulus. Through love of
his society the learned and the wealthy made pilgrimages
to Foston-le-Clay. Among these were Sir Samuel Romilly,
Smith,
Sydney.
350 SMI
Smith, Sir James Mackintosh, Lord Jeffrey, the Earl of Carlisle,
Sydney. Mr Horner, Lord and Lady Holland, Dr Marcet, and his
distinguished brother Bobus.1
In 1828 Smith was promoted, by Lord Lyndhurst’s pa¬
tronage, to be canon of Bristol, and rector of Combe-Flo-
rey, a lovely little spot near Taunton. Amid the joy of this
sudden change of prospect and of scene he had the un¬
speakable sorrow to lose his eldest son, Douglas, by death.
He had to begin his old trade of architect over again at
Combe-Florey; but with his increased experience and
means, he succeeded much better in pleasing the taste of
his friends than he had done before on his parsonage-house
in Yorkshire. He now resigned his connection with the
Edinburgh Review, esteeming it more becoming a dignitary
of the church to attach his name to whatever he might
write. Ten years afterwards he collected and published
the greater part of his contributions to that periodical. His
fame greatly increased after his removal to Bristol; and in
1832 he was appointed canon of St Paul’s, the last prefer¬
ment he was destined to receive. Writing to Lord Hol¬
land, he says, “ I have entirely lost all wish to be a bishop,”
and dissuades him from making any friendly attempts in his
favour. He would assuredly have been the wittiest bishop
on record, and not one of the least wise, but a man whom
his friend, Lord Macaulay, could characterize as “ the great¬
est master of ridicule who has appeared among us since
Swift,” was a dangerous subject to bear the ermine of the
church. He was not the approved, “ grave, elderly man,
full of Greek,” See., whom his lively fancy was accustomed
to depict as the “ real bishop.”
In 1834 Lord Holland received the hand of Smith’s daugh¬
ter, who, in the character of Lady Holland, has, in 1855,
furnished the public with so interesting a biography of her
father. He now removed his residence to London, where
he purchased a house in Green Street, Mayfair. There
is a fine glimpse into the generous and pathetic side of
Smith’s nature afforded by his employment of the living of
Edmonton, which he might in justice have appropriated, or
given over to a relation or a friend. He writes to his wife,
“ I went over yesterday to the Tates at Edmonton. The
family consists of three delicate daughters, an aunt, the old
lady, and her son, then curate of Edmonton; the old lady
was in bed. I found there a physician, an old friend of
Tate’s, attending them from friendship, who had come from
London for that purpose. They were in daily expectation
of being turned out from house and curacy. I began by
inquiring the character of their servant; then turned the
conversation upon their affairs, and expressed a hope the
chapter might ultimately do something for them. I then
said, ‘ It is my duty to state to you (they were all assembled)
that I have given away the living of Edmonton, and have
written to our chapter clerk this morning to mention the
person to whom I have given it; and I must also tell you,
that I am sure he will appoint his curate (a general silence
and dejection). It is a very odd coincidence,’ I added,
‘ that the gentleman I have selected is a namesake of this
family ; his name is Tate. Have you any relations ?’ ‘ No,
we have not.’ ‘ And, by a more singular coincidence, his
name is Thomas Tate; in short, there is no use in mincing
the matter, you are vicar of Edmonton.’ They all burst
into tears. It flung me also into a great agitation of tears,
and I wept and groaned for a long time. Then I rose, and
said, I thought it was very likely to end in their keeping a
huggy; at which we all laughed as violently. The poor
old lady, who was sleeping in a garret, because she could
not bear to enter into the room lately inhabited by her hus¬
band, sent for me, and kissed me, sobbing with a thousand
emotions. The charitable physician wept too. I never
T JEL
passed so remarkable a morning, nor was so deeply impressed Smith,
with the sufferings of human life, and never felt more tho-Sir Thomai
roughly the happiness of doing good” (Life, by Lady Hoi-
land, vol. i., p. 290). What can a man do after a king?
One need not be ashamed to laugh and weep in such com¬
pany. This must suffice for Smith’s wisdom. Another illus¬
tration of his wit, which was as multifarious as the forms of
an evening cloud, and we have done. “ Some one men¬
tioned that a young Scotchman, who had been lately in the
neighbourhood, was about to marry an Irish widow, double
his age, and of considerable dimensions. ‘ Going to marry
her!’ he exclaimed, bursting out laughing; ‘ going to marry
her! impossible! you mean a part of her; he could not
marry her all himself. It would be a case, not of bigamy,
but trigamy; the neighbourhood or the magistrates should
interfere. There is enough of her to furnish wives for a
whole parish. One man marry her! it is monstrous. You
might people a colony with her; or, perhaps, take your
morning’s walk round her, always provided there were fre¬
quent resting-places, and you were in rude health. I once
was rash enough to try walking round her before break¬
fast, but only got half-way, and gave it up exhausted. Or
you might read the riot act and disperse her; in short, you
might do anything with her but marry her.’” This affords
a good specimen of the spirit of subtle, fanciful exaggera¬
tion which ran through many of Smith’s jokes. One may
fancy what sort of an opponent he would have made had
he been inclined to controversy. It is singular, however,
how very few enemies his wit and sarcasm, of which he was
so eminent a master, ever were the means of making him.
It must be clear to every one, that nothing but the unfail¬
ing kindliness of his disposition, his generosity, his pathos,
his sympathy with his fellow-men under every phasis of suf¬
fering, and under every aspect of enjoyment, could have
kept him so far out of the way of error. He was subjected
to no ordinary temptation in being endowed with a faculty
of such singular brilliancy, and of such equivocal conse¬
quences to its possessor. Sydney Smith laid claim to no
more than practical common sense; and his intellect, while
very acute, was not of the most searching kind. He pos¬
sessed, however, an unfailing stock of the richest and
choicest language, which would flow out from the fountain
of his mind as spontaneously as water from a spring. He
was always intrepid in his inquiry into alleged abuses, and
fearless in his exposure of all kinds of clerical misrule. His
letters to the States of North America regarding the pay¬
ment of old debts contracted by them, written a short time
before his death, is as full of pungent satire, of gay humour,
and of strong sense, as anything he wrote in liis more vi¬
gorous years. He died of water in the chest, consequent
upon disease of the heart, on the 22d February 1845. He
was buried in the family cemetery of Kensall Green. His
widow and his son inherited the greater portion of his pro¬
perty. His works, consisting'of sermons, lectures, essays,
and pamphlets, were published in 3 vols. in 1839. His
Sketches of Moral Philosophy were republished in 1850;
and there has been since published a small edition of the
Letters of Peter Plymley, with selections from his Essays
and Speeches, but without a date. (See Memoirs of Rev.
Sydney Smith, by his daughter, Lady Holland, and Mrs
Austin, 2 vols. 8vo, 1855.) (j. d—s.)
Smith, Sir Thomas, was born at Walden, in Essex, in
the year 1512. At fourteen he was sent to Queen’s Col¬
lege, Cambridge, where he distinguished himself so much
that he was made Henry the Eighth’s scholar, together
with John Cheke. He was chosen a fellow of his college
in 1531, and appointed two years afterwards to read the
public Greek lecture. The common mode of reading
1 )Te observe, from a statement in Rogers’ Table Talk, lately published, that Rogers was accustomed to regard Bobus Smith and
Sir James Mackintosh as the most accomplished metaphysicians then in England.
S M I T H.
Smith, Greek at that time was very faulty, the same sound being
William. gjven t0 the letters and diphthongs, i, 17, v, et, 01, vl. Smith
and Cheke had been for some time sensible that this pro¬
nunciation was wrong; and after a good deal of consulta¬
tion and research, they agreed to introduce that mode of
reading which prevails at present. Smith was lecturing on
Aristotle De Republica, in Greek. At first he dropped a
word or two at intervals in the new pronunciation, and
sometimes he would stop as if he had committed a mistake,
and correct himself. No notice was taken of this for two
or three days ; but as he repeated it more frequently, his
audience began to wonder at the unusual sounds, and at
last some of his friends mentioned to him what they had
remarked. He owned that something was in agitation, but
that it was not yet sufficiently digested to be made public.
They entreated him earnestly to discover his project. He
did so, and in a short time great numbers resorted to him
for information. The new pronunciation was adopted with
enthusiasm, and soon became universal at Cambridge. It
was afterwards opposed by Bishop Gardiner, the Chancel¬
lor ; but its superiority to the old mode was so visible that
in a few years it spread over all England.
In 1539 he travelled into foreign countries, and studied
for some time in the universities of France and Italy. At
Padua he took the degree of LL.D. On his return, he
was admitted ad eundem at Cambridge, and was appointed
regius professor of the civil law. He was useful in pro¬
moting the reformation of religion as well as of learning.
Having gone into the family of the Duke of Somerset the
protector, during the minority of Edward the Sixth, he was
employed by that nobleman in public affairs ; and in 1548
he was made secretary of state, and received the honour of
knighthood. While Somerset continued in office, he was
sent as ambassador, first to Brussels, and afterwards to
France. Upon the accession of Mary he lost all his
places, but was fortunate enough to preserve the friend¬
ship of Gardiner and Bonner. He was exempted from
persecution, and was allowed, probably by their influence,
a pension of L.100. During Elizabeth’s reign he was em¬
ployed in public affairs, and was thrice sent to France in
the capacity of an ambassador. He died in the year 1577.
Sir Thomas Smith was a man of excellent talents,
united with solid and variegated learning. He obtained a
respectable place among the scholars of the age by the
publication of his epistle to the bishop of Winchester, De
recta et emendata Linguce Grcecce Pronunciatione, Lu-
tetiae, 1568, 4to. The same volume includes his dialogue,
De recta et emendata Linguce Anglicance Scriptione. But
the work by which he is best known, in modern times, is
entitled De Republica Anglorum : the Maner of Gouern-
ment or policie of the Realmeof England, Lond. 1583, 4to.
Of this treatise, which was translated into Latin, there are
many editions.
Smith, William, was known amongst geologists by the
designation of “ The Father of English Geology;” and fa¬
miliarly amongst his acquaintances, in order to distinguish
him from others of the same name, as “ Stratum Smith.”
He will be more generally remembered as the framer and
author of the first complete geological map of England
and Wales, and as the discoverer of the principle of the iden¬
tification of strata by their included organic remains, which
has now passed into the elements of the science. He was
born at Churchill, in Oxfordshire, on March 23, 1769,—
the same year in which Cuvier saw the light. Deprived of
his father, who was an ingenious mechanic, before he was
eight years old, he depended upon his father’s eldest bro¬
ther, who was but little pleased with his nephew’s love of
collecting “ pundribs” (terebratuloe), and “ pound-stones”
or ‘quoit-stones” (large echinites, frequently employed as
a pound-weight by dairywomen); and had no sympathy
with his propensity to carve sun-dials on the soft brown
351
“oven-stone” of his neighbourhood. Circumstances led Smith,
to his becoming a mineral surveyor and civil engineer. In William,
the former capacity he traversed the oolitic lands of Ox-
fordshire and Gloucestershire, the lias clays and red marls
of Warwickshire, and other districts of geological interest;
in all of which he noticed the varieties of strata and soils.
In 1791 he surveyed an estate in Somersetshire, and
walked to it, and far round it, to observe the strata. In
1793 he executed the surveys and completed the levellings
for the line of a proposed canal, in the course of which
he confirmed a previous supposition, that the strata lying
above the coal were not horizontal, but inclined in one di¬
rection—to the eastward—so as to terminate successively at
the surface, and to resemble, on a large scale, the ordinary
disposition of the slices of bread and butter on a break¬
fast plate—an illustration to which he was frequently ac¬
customed to resort in all societies and on all occasions.
On being appointed engineer to the Somerset Coal
Canal in 1794, he was deputed to make a tour of observa¬
tion with relation to inland navigation. During this tour,
which occupied nearly two months, and extended over
900 miles, he carefully examined the geological struc¬
ture of the country passed over, and corroborated his pre¬
conceived generalization of a settled order of succession
in the several strata, a continuity of range at the surface,
and a general declination eastward. Five years subse¬
quently he prepared a tabular view of the “ Order of the
Strata, and their imbedded Organic Remains, in the neigh¬
bourhood of Bath, examined and proved prior to 1799.”
From this period up to 1812, he was engaged in complet¬
ing and arranging the data for his large Geological Map of
England and Wales, with part of Scotland, and he now
commenced this publication. In 1815 the entire map was
published, and was contained in fifteen large sheets, engraved
on a scale of 5 miles to 1 inch. Its size was 8 feet 9 inches
high, by 6 feet 2 inches wide. When this map is regarded
as the result of the nearly unassisted labours of one man,
not favoured by education or special tuition, it must ever
remain as a signal proof of what genius and perseverance
can accomplish, even although it may now be in a great mea¬
sure superseded. The large map was reduced to one of an
elementary form and size in 1819; and from this date to
1822 separate county geological maps were prepared by Mr
Smith, and published in successive years; the whole con¬
stituting “ A New Geological Atlas of England and Wales;
on which are delineated by colours the Courses and Width
of the Strata, which occasions the varieties of soil; calculated
to elucidate the Agriculture of each County, and to shew
the situation of the best materials for Building, making of
Roads, the constructing of Canals, and pointing out those
places where Coal and other valuable materials are likely
to be found.” This series included an excellent four-sheet
map of Yorkshire.
It was in January 1831 that the Geological Society of
London, by their Council, resolved unanimously to confer on
Mr Smith the first Wollaston Medal. At the meeting of the
British Association, held in Oxford, June 1832, the above
medal was put into Mr Smith’s possession; and the writer
well remembers the simple and almost boyish glee with which
the receiver exhibited his medal to every one with whom
he came into contact, exclaiming many times in a morn¬
ing, “ Have you seen my medal ?” and then producing it
A fuller and more substantial honour was conferred upon
him by the Government, at the united request of English
geologists, in the shape of a life-pension of L.100 per
annum. The last public distinction with which he was
honoured was the unexpected diploma of LL.D., conferred
upon him by Trinity College, Dublin, at the meeting of
the British Association in that city in 1835. At such
meetings he was always, if possible, present, and always
heartily welcomed and honoured. To see him in an arm-
352 S M O
Smoke, chair near the president of the geological section was to see
him in his glory. He was now in his 67th year.
In 1838 he was appointed one of the Government Com¬
missioners engaged to examine various building-stones, and
to select the best for the new Houses of Parliament. Dr
Smith’s previous knowledge was here of signal benefit.
The last years of his life were spent at Hackness (of
which he made a good geological map), near Scar¬
borough, and in the latter town. In these places the
writer frequently visited him, and was impressed with his
originality, devotion to geology, simplicity of character, and
self-satisfied industry in observing minute phenomena.
Dr Smith accumulated great numbers of geological memo¬
randa in loose papers, which were never published. His
usually robust health failed him in 1839, and on August 28th
of that year he died. He once said he was born on the oolite,
and should wish to be buried on it; and so he was, at
Northampton. His nephew, Professor John Phillips, has
penned an interesting memoir of his uncle. Of Dr Smith
we may finally remark, that he laid deep and broad the
foundations upon which others are now erecting an elegant
and richly-sculptured temple of science. (j. r. l.)
Definition. SMOKE. The question is often asked, What is smoke ?
Dr Lardner answers, “ That when coals are thrown on to a
furnace a smoke will arise, which, passing into the flues
over the burning coal, will be ignited,”—a definition which,
as Mr Wye Williams has pointed out, would compel us to
consider the gas we burn in our houses as smoke; other¬
wise, the word is employed for the whole of the products
which rise from burning fuel; or sometimes, as when we
speak of the consumption of smoke and the prevention of
smoke, we mean only the visible products of combustion.
At the time when the use of pit-coal became general, but
jefore the properties of combustible gases were well under¬
stood, all visible vapours rising from heated bodies were
denominated smoke; hence the terms red smoke, black
smoke, and white smoke; and more recently parliamentary
smoke, a term for that thin transparent smoke through
which objects could be seen, and derived from a local act
of parliament, compelling millowners to construct their
furnaces so as to consume their smoke, or, as we should
now more accurately say, prevent its production.
It will be well if for scientific purposes the meaning of
the term can be restricted and defined. When a combus¬
tible undergoes ignition, its elements, separated from their
original combinations, unite with oxygen, and pass off as
usually invisible gases. For these new gaseous combina¬
tions, the term products of combustion is fittest. If, how¬
ever, the supply of oxygen be deficient, or the temperature
of combustion lowered by the presence of a colder body,
the combustion will be imperfect, and a part of the com¬
bustible will pass off in a finely divided, but generally vi¬
sible form. Usage has tended to the restriction of the
term smoke to the visible products of imperfect combus¬
tion, or unconsumed fuel disengaged in a minutely-divided
condition from a gaseous combination. We have there¬
fore the expressions—
Combustible; for the fuel, usually free carbon, or a combination of
hydrogen and carbon, or sulphur.
Supporter of combustion ; oxygen.
Products of combustion; the resulting combinations of oxygen
with the combustible.
Smoke; the visible product of imperfect combustion, arising
from deficiency of heat or deficiency of oxygen, and is usually free
carbon, liberated in the combustion of hydro-carbons, which de¬
posits itself on coal surfaces as soot.
Ash; the inorganic residuum of some kinds of fuel.
Perfect and To take an instance, and observe the process:—With
imperfect ordinary coal, the oxygen it contains passes off with a cor-
of'coal!10n resPoncfrnn quantity of hydrogen, as water, with little oi no
heating effect. The free carbon burns yielding carbonic
S M O
acid, which in turn, in some cases, combines with another Smoke.
atom of carbon, and, if there be a deficiency of oxygen, v y-^.'
passes off without producing a due heating effect. The
hydrogen of the hydro-carbons forms steam, liberating the
carbon which has the less affinity for oxygen. If, however
the supply of oxygen be ample, the carbon in its nascent
condition combines with it very readily, and forms invisible
carbonic acid; but if the supply of oxygen be deficient, it is
seized by the hydrogen, and the carbon condenses into a
black cloud of smoke, which is then much less facile of
combustion. Hence we speak of the prevention of smoke
rather than of its combustion, because the true process is
the supply of an adequate quantity of air, which, combining
with the carbon in the condition in which it is most sus¬
ceptible, prevents the formation of smoke. Practically,
however, in furnaces this can be only imperfectly attained,
and after admitting as nearly as possible a due quantity of
air in the most effective manner, we must be content to
consume it by double furnaces and similar means, so far as
that is possible.
At the more early period of our history, there were few
chimneys in England; but we read that in Henry VIII.’s
reign most gentlemen’s houses had at least one chimney.
At that time pit-coal began to be used in private houses;
and there is extant among the records of Elizabeth’s reign,
a motion to the effect, “ That many dyers, brewers, smiths,
and other artificers of London, having of late taken to the
use of pit-coal for their fires, instead of wood, which filled
the air with noxious vapour and smoke, very prejudicial to
the health, especially of persons coming from the country,
a law might pass to prohibit the use of such fuel (at least
during the session of parliament) by those artificers.” From
this it will be seen what a serious nuisance smoke was then
considered; and much as its abatement is desired at the
present time, it is yet fortunate that the inhabitants of
London got over their prejudices, and considered the
advantages of pit-coal very greatly to outweigh its defects.
The subject of the prevention of smoke has assumed Legislation
very considerable importance, from the numerous local on the sub-
acts by which it is now rendered compulsory upon mill-jec^
owners and others who employ furnaces; and in many of
the larger towns the nuisance, if not got rid of, has been
considerably lessened by legislative measures. The sub¬
ject is still one of great difficulty and perplexity, to which
the incredible number of patent grates and furnaces will
bear testimony; and the engineering profession is not yet
agreed upon the best forms for our furnaces and stoves, so
as to secure the largest effect from a given quantity of fuel,
and at the same time abate to the greatest extent the nui¬
sance of smoke. The difficulties do not arise from our
ignorance of the constitution of fuel, or of the laws of
combustion, but from practical obstacles, such as necessarily
arise from the variable production of gaseous and other
volatile products, and the want of system and regularity
which attends the management of a furnace. Habits of
economy, and attention to a few simple rules, have not
been sufficiently enforced, and it is obvious that much may
yet be done in establishing and carrying out a well-orga¬
nized plan of operations. If this were accomplished, and
the management of steam-engine furnaces consigned to
men properly trained for their respective duties, many of
these difficulties would vanish, and the atmosphere of our
towns become more pure, whilst the owners of mills would
be compensated by the saving of fuel which such a system
would secure.
Of the various kinds of fuel and their elementary ana-Composi-
lysis, sufficient has already been said under the head Iron-tion of fuel.
Making, and elsewhere. For our present purpose very
accurate analysis is not essential, the following values of
those constituents of fuel which contribute to the heating
effect will be sufficient:—•
SMOKE.
Smoke.
353
Percentage by weight of
Carbon. Hydrogen.l
Charcoal   87 0 2-0
Lignite    63'0 1*0
Peat   60 0 2 5
Coal, average of 36 samples from Wales  83'7 4 3
jt „ 18 „ Newcastle.. 82,1 4‘6
j, ,, 28 „ Lancashire.. 77'9 4-l
j» „ 8 ,, Scotland  78‘5 4 4
» ,, 7 „ Derbyshire.. 79*7 3-6
„ Anthracite  9P5 3 2
To find from this table the quantity of oxygen necessary
for the combustion of 1 lb. of each kind of fuel, we must
remember that each equivalent of hydrogen requires one
of oxygen ; oxygen is eight times as heavy as hydrogen,
and therefore one pound of hydrogen will require eight of
oxygen. Similarly each pound of carbon will require
lb. of oxygen for its conversion into carbonic oxide, and
2f for its conversion into carbonic acid.
Hence we get for the quantities of oxygen and corre-
spending weight of air required for the combustion of 1 lb.
C»“w. of each of the above fuel:-
tion.
Oxygen
and air ne
Heat libe¬
rated by
combus¬
tion.
Description.
Charcoal  
Lignite 
Peat 
Coal, Welsh  
„ Newcastle .
„ Lancashire.
„ Scotch 
„ Derbyshire.
Anthracite 
Coke 
Pounds of
Oxygen to
1 lb. of fuel.
2-48
1- 76
1 80
2- 57
2.55
2-08
209
2-41
269
2-40
Pounds of
air to 1 lb. of
fuel.
11-16
7- 92
8- 10
11-56
11- 47
936
9-40
10-84
12- 10
10-80
Cubic feet of
air to 1 lb. of
fuel, at 60° P.
145-8
103-4
105-8
151-0
149-8
122-3
122-8
141-6
1580
1411
Hence we may consider that 12 pounds or 150 cubic feet
of atmospheric air are on the average required for the com¬
bustion of each pound of fuel. In practice, however, we
cannot expect the whole of the entering air to be so eco¬
nomised, and it is necessary to admit from 1^ to 2 or more
times the theoretical quantity of air necessary for combus¬
tion, and although the proportions have not been accurately
ascertained, a larger surplus of air is required for bitumi¬
nous coal than for coke, and less with excited than with
slow combustion.
All bodies in chemically combining liberate heat, as in
decomposing, they absorb it. The quantity of heat liberated
has generally been estimated in pounds of water raised
in temperature, or more recently by Mr Rankine, Mr
Thomson, and those who have developed the dynamical
theory of heat, as thermal units, or that amount of heat
necessary to raise the temperature of 1 lb. of water 1 de¬
gree Fahrenheit. The most reliable experiments appear
to give the following values for the heat liberated by com¬
bustion :—
In pounds of
water heated
from 32° to
212° Pahr.
1 lb. hydrogen, combining with oxygen  344-6
1 „ carbon combining with one equivalent of 1 0,
oxygen J
1 „ carbon combining with two equivalents 1
of oxygen  J
80-0
In
thermal
units.
62,032
4,400
14,500
Hence, from these numbers, we may determine the heat
which would be liberated by the combustion of each of the
previous descriptions of fuel, of which we know the che¬
mical composition:—
Fuel.
1 lb. charcoal 
i, lignite 
,, peat charcoal 
„ coal, Welsh 
„ „ Newcastle..
,, ,, Lancashire.
,i „ Scotch 
Derbyshire.
coke,
anthracite,..
In Pounds of
water heated
from 32° to
212° Pahr.
76-49
53 8
56-6
81-7
81-5
76- 4
77- 9
76-1
720
84-2
In
thermal
units.
13855
9755
11250
14802
14670
13755
14027
13705
12960
15156
Smoke.
With these values we may compare the following expe¬
rimental determinations on similar fuels :—
Fuel.
Charcoal.
Authority.
Berthier.
Winkler.
Berthier.
Pounds of water
heated, from 32°
to 212°
  68
j.   75-7
Peat  18-1 to 35-0
Peat charcoal 40-1 to 58-9
Lignite..,....., 37 to 57
Caking-coal....,  53 to 72
Dowlais and Newcastle coal... 70 to 72
Coke  50-3 to 65-6
Anthracite  70-3
Plans for the Prevention of Smoke in ordinary Grates.
The first and most general plan which has been pro-Domestic
posed for the prevention of smoke in ordinary grates, for fires,
domestic purposes, is the introduction of fresh fuel below
instead of above that undergoing combustion ; a plan which,
when carried out by suitable mechanical arrangements, is
sound in principle, and advantageous in practice. In
1785 James Watt took out the earliest patent for the
prevention of smoke in furnaces on this principle, but as
his patent applies to boiler-furnaces, it will be recurred to
hereafter.
Mr Cutler, in 1815, took out a patent for a fire-place to
be supplied with fuel from below. A metal chamber
below the grate is filled with fuel, which, as it burns away
at the top, is supplied by raising the bottom of the fuel-box,
or chamber, by a system of pullies and chains. Other
patentees have sought, to diminish the difficulty of raising
the whole day’s consumption, by introducing the fuel hori¬
zontally from behind; and a third party have sought to
employ a feeding-shovel, which is filled with fuel, and then
thrust under the fire along the bottom grating ; in this posi¬
tion its contents are forced beneath the burning fuel by a
piston worked through the handle.
Dr Arnott’s stove, which has formed the basis of the Dr Amott’s
greater number of smoke-consuming grates, is constructed grate,
on the principle of Cutler’s. The fuel-box is placed imme¬
diately beneath the grate, and a movable bottom is raised
when the fire is to be replenished by means of the poker
used as a lever. The aperture of the chimney is contracted
by brickwork, or by a metallic hood lined with tile, somewhat
in the shape of an inverted funnel, and a valve or damper,
with a conspicuous handle moving over a graduated plate,
is placed on the throat of the chimney, that the draught
may be regulated with the greatest nicety. A channel
communicating with the external air is introduced under
the hearth, to diffuse into the room, and about the fire, a
supply of air which becomes tempered in passing through
the air-channel and under the fender.
In a patent founded on Arnott’s stove (Tillett. 1846), it
was proposed that the fire-grate should slide back into a
effect U8 C°lumD doeS n0t give the total Perceiltage of hydrogen, but only that portion which appears to contribute to the heating
2 T
VOL. XX.
354
SMOKE.
Smoke.
Supple¬
mentary
fire.
Rotatory
grates.
Prevention
of smoke
by a down¬
ward cur¬
rent.
General
considera¬
tions.
recess, to admit a fresh supply of fuel into the box. In
another (Jeakes, 1854), the very convenient modification
has been adopted of making the curtain or front of the
fuel-box and grate-bars to descend, instead of raising the
coal. By this arrangement a fresh portion of coal is
secured for combustion between the open bars, whilst some
of the objections to the mechanical arrangements neces¬
sary for raising a considerable weight of coal are obviated.
Mr Bachoffner has proposed a somewhat different plan—
viz., the use of a small supplementary grate for burning
coke, anthracite, or other now-bituminous fuel, and which
can be raised or lowered at pleasure. The ordinary coal
having been supplied to a common grate, this supplemen¬
tary fire is lowered upon it, and the smoke consumed as it
passes through.
Rotatory grates have been employed in some cases, the
grate being made to turn on an axis, so that on fresh fuel
being supplied, the grate is inverted, and the smoke com¬
pelled to pass through the clear fire. In the earliest patent
on this principle the grate was a revolving cylinder, divided
longitudinally by gratings into three compartments; these
were filled in succession with fresh fuel, and the grate re¬
volved each time, so that the clear fire might be brought
to the top. This plan was first patented in 1818 by
Spencer, and with very slight modification, has been several
times patented since. Though possessing many merits,
the enclosure of the fire in a cylindrical grate creates a
prejudice against its use, and the isolation of the grate would
seem to prevent the conduction of the heat, and its dis¬
tribution, over a large radiating metallic surface.1
A downward current of air, instead of a supply of fuel
from below, has been proposed in some patents for the
prevention of smoke in fire-grates. Thus, in a patent by
Mr Williamson, in 1855, the back of the fire is an open
grating of iron or fire-clay, hind which is a flue com¬
municating with the chimney. To this flue there is a per¬
pendicular valve or register, which forms the back of the
fire-place, over which is a horizontal flap or register. When
the register of the flue is thrown back, the draught passes
direct into the chimney ; when the register is vertical, and
the flue thrown open, the draught is downwards through the
fire and back of the grate, into the flue behind. In this
system the prejudices against a change in the form of
grate are removed, and a nearly smokeless fire secured
without any modification of the ordinary mode of firing. A
partial alleviation of the smoke nuisance has also been
secured in the plan of Mr Stevens, by deflecting the heated
air rising from the grate downward, on the burning surface
of the fuel.
In all these plans for the prevention of smoke in ordi¬
nary house-fires, it being always assumed that there is a
copious supply of air, the principle is to secure a large
increase of the temperature of the smoke at the point where
the hydrocarbons, &c., distil from the fresh fuel so as to
insure their perfect consumption as soon as formed. We
have seen that the more perfect plans provide for this pur¬
pose, either (1.) a supply of fresh fuel from beneath, so
that the upward draught carries the gaseous products
directly through the clear burning fuel at top, with the
further advantage of producing them slowly and uniformly ;
or (2.) a downward draught, which effects the same pur¬
pose. When these plans are conjoined with an adequate
provision for the supply of air from the external atmo¬
sphere, they appear calculated to insure the almost complete
prevention of smoke, with a decrease of dirt, and a great
economy of fuel. That Arnott grates have sometimes
failed is probably to be attributed to mismanagement or
prejudice on the part of attendants, and it is beyond ques¬
tion that an increasing number of them are in use, with a
considerable saving of fuel. They possess the further
advantage of burning coal of any size, as it cakes before it
is brought into use, and they remain alight almost without
attention.
Smoke.
Plans for the Prevention of Smoke in Stationary and
Marine-Boiler furnaces.
We may leave out of consideration those plans in which
the smoke and products of combustion required to be forced
through water, in order to dispel them, as inapplicable and
founded on false principles.
Pla7is for the Prevention of Smoke depending upon
Double Furnaces, with alternate Firing.
Double furnaces for the prevention of smoke, patented Double
by Mr Losh, were in use as early as 1815, and in various furnaces,
ways have been employed since. At first a diaphram or Fairbairn’s
mid-feather was employed running the length of the grate- double¬
bars ; and afterwards the plan of two cylindrical flues, flaedboiler.
within the same boiler, was introduced by Mr W.Fairbairn of
Manchester, where a local act for the suppression of smoke
has been long in operation. The boiler adopted by him
is shown in figs. 1, 2, and 3, and is a mean between the
Cornish single-flue and
the tubular boiler. It is
perfectly cylindrical, and
contains two circular flues
a a, varying from 2 feet 6
inches to 2 feet 9 inches
in diameter, extending
throughout its length.
Towards the front end
the flues receive the
grate-bars, hearth-plates, &c.; beyond these is built a
brick bridge, over which the products of combustion
are deflected. After passing through the boiler, the two
flues unite; and after again making a circuit outside
and under the boiler, pass to the chimney. These two
flues enable the stoker to feed the furnaces alternately, and
so maintain a more uniform generation of steam than would
Transverse Section.
1 The curious in this subject may compare patents 1818, No. 4316; 1825, No. 5257; 1854, Nos. 613, 1617, 1221; 1855, No. 646.
SMOKE.
Smoke, be possible with a single flue ; and the flame passing from
the one flue assists in the consumption of the gases gene¬
rated in the other. Another form of boiler on the same
principle, erected at the works of Messrs Salt of Saltaire,
. will be found described under the head Steam-Engine.
Mr Fairbairn has long been of opinion, that this simple
system of alternate firing, when conjoined with the three
requisites of the generation of steam with economy, viz.,
plenty of capacity in the boiler, sufficient admission of air,
and, what is quite as necessary, very careful and attentive
stoking, will secure, without any costly apparatus, the pre¬
vention of smoke, so far as that is possible, with any given
description of coal. Attempts have been made to save fuel,
and effect perfect combustion, under boilers of a capacity
insufficient to raise and maintain the required pressure of
steam without forcing the fire. Now, it should be distinctly
understood, that it is next to impossible to burn smoke, or
effect perfect combustion where the fires have to be forced;
the consideration of capacity should never be lost sight of
in our attempts at boiler improvement, and the consequent
prevention of smoke.
Arm- Mr Robert Armstrong constructs what he calls the uni-
Btrong’s versal argand furnace upon the same principle, but by a
furnace. different arrangement. The fire-bars are laid in three
rows, the first next the door, horizontal; the second sloping
downwards towards the third, which is horizontal, but at a
lower level than the first. A double bearing bar between
the first and second rows, permits a stream of air to enter the
furnace at that point. In charging, a thin layer of coal is
laid on next the door, and maintained in active combus¬
tion ; behind and up to the bridge the coal is thrown in as
thickly as possible ; thus the flame from the thin stratum
in front mingling with the air rushing in at the double
bearing bar, acts like a torch in effecting the gaseous pro¬
ducts distilling from the thick layer of coal behind. From
time to time the ignited embers from which the flame has
been expelled are raked forwards, and fresh coal is thrown
on behind. Very little smoke is evolved from this species
of furnace, and it differs but little in form from those ordi¬
narily employed.
There is, however, this advantage peculiar to two fur¬
naces combined, viz., that the air required for combustion
must to some extent vary in quantity in a single furnace;
we cannot determine the time at which the maximum would
be required, nor that at which the minimum would be suffi-
Eig. 4.
cient, nor what amount of surplus is necessary, but that the
quantity varies according to the state of the fire, the time
of feeding, and the attention of the stoker seems to be
355
beyond question. Now, a double furnace tends to equalise Smoke,
the supply ; the two fires fed alternately will not require a ^
maximum or a minimum supply of air at precisely the same
time, and when the two currents of gaseous products
mingle, the surplus of one furnace wfill supply the defi¬
ciencies of the other. In this way the tendency is to com¬
pensate the supply and demand, and to prevent waste from
too great or too small an admission of air.
In marine boilers the system of double furnaces is to a Marine
large extent employed, and when sufficient air is admitted, boilers,
and proper care and attention bestowed on the furnaces,
smoke may to a large extent be prevented. Fig. 4 shows
the general form of a marine tubular boiler of the ordinary
construction, a, the furnace; bbb b,a series of small tubes,
through which, in a finely divided state, the products of
combustion pass; c, the uptake, in which the products of
two or more furnaces mingle as they pass to the chimney.
Plans for the Prevention of Smoke depending on Mecha¬
nical contrivances for feeding the furnace and distri¬
buting the fuel.
Of this class is the earliest patent for smoke prevention, Watt’s
taken out by James Watt in 1785. By this plan the fire is patent,
supplied from above downwards, by a reservoir of fuel in
contact with the burning mass, the combustion of which is
supported by a strong lateral current of air, passing direct
through the fire into a flue on the other side, aided by a
slight downward current beside or through the fuel, which
last descends by its own gravity as it is consumed by the
fire. For the purpose of intercepting and completing the
combustion of any of the gaseous products, a clear and
separate fire is maintained near the entrance into the flues,
so that the products of the first fire being subjected to the
intense heat of the second, and mingled with atmospheric
air, may be most effectually consumed.
Apart from the external reservoir, we owe to Watt the
dead-plate often adopted in stationary boilers. The fire¬
bars and dead-plate at the furnace-doors being rather
more than usually inclined, to facilitate the advance of the
fuel.
The fresh coal is thrown on to the dead-plate, where it
gradually cokes, the more volatile constituents distilling
over, and being consumed by the bright fire beyond. The
coked fuel is then pushed forwards on to the bars, and a
new supply of coal introduced on the dead-plate. This
plan, so far as it goes, seems right in principle and effective
in practice, and where the combustion is slow and the sup¬
ply of air properly proportioned, obviates as effectually as
more complicated contrivances the consumption of the
smoke.
The succeeding patentees"of the principle of mechanical
feeding as a substitute for hand-labour, have followed two
different arrangements. Some have made the grate itself
to carry forward the fuel, either (1.), by revolving horizon¬
tally, or (2.), by rolling forward longitudinally over fixed
wheels, or (3.), by the rising and falling of the alternate
bars, causing the thrusting forward of the fuel. Others
have left the grate-bars stationary, and have used fans
revolving either (1.) horizontally, or (2.) vertically, to dis¬
tribute the fuel, or (3.) have depended in part on manual
labour for that purpose.
In 1819 B run ton patented a furnace of a circular form, Brim ton’
with a grate revolving horizontally, and having the fuel revolving
supplied from above by an external hopper. The circular gra e*
grate is supported on a vertical axis, and has on its peri¬
phery a rim moving in sand, to prevent the entrance of air.
The feeder is similar to the hopper of a corn-mill, except¬
ing that the bottom is oblong; the coal falls through an
opening, the width of wdiich is adjusted by a vertical
shutter, according to the size of the coal, and the supply
356
SMOKE.
Smoke, is maintained by an inclined plate, to which a reciprocating
motion is given by machinery. Mr Brunton proposes that
the grate should revolve once in six minutes, to ensure a
uniform spreading of the coal in a constantly renewed thin
layer over the whole area of the grate.
In 1822, Brunton also patented what he terms the per¬
istaltic furnace, in which the distribution of the coal is
effected by the movement of the grate-bars. Each alter¬
nate bar is attached at the end next the furnace-door to an
eccentric motion, by which it is raised above the level of
the stationary bars, pushed forward a small distance, and
then allowed to return and fall below the mean level. In
this way, at every stroke the coal is shifted forwards a
short distance from the door towards the bridge-end of the
furnace, the bars being inclined at the rate of 1 in 7 to
facilitate its progress. Near the door, the air-spaces be¬
tween the bars are reduced as much as is consistent with
their motion, so as to form a sort of dead-plate on which
the coals may coke. The fuel is supplied at the upper end
by a feeder as above.
Juckes’ Perhaps the most complete apparatus on the plan we are
furnace. considering is that of Mr Juckes; but unfortunately it is,
like those of Brunton, objectionable on the score of compli¬
cation and liability to derangement. In this plan, as shown
in fig. 5, endless chains supply the place of the ordinary
fig. 5.
Juckes’ Patent Furnace.
fire-bars, and revolve over two fixed rollers, a a. These
rollers are kept in slow revolution, carrying the chains along
with them. The coals are thrown on the inclined plate, />,
at the mouth of the furnace, and fall gradually upon the
moving grate-bar surface, on which, as they coke, they are
carried along towards the back of the furnace. Thus the
combustion is maintained by a slow and uniform supply of
fuel, which gradually heats and parts with its gases, as it is
drawn forwards through the furnace; whilst the whole of
the products of combustion, after mingling with air, have
to pass through the hottest part of the furnace.
Stanley s Qf the plans for the distribution of the coal over stationary
patent. grate-bars by revolving fans, we may notice first that of
Stanley in 1822. The coal is placed in a hopper external
to the furnace, whence it falls on two fluted rollers, in
passing between which it is reduced to a small size, and
equalized in quantity. Below the rollers is placed a fan,
with three vanes revolving vertically opposite the entrance
to the furnace, and somewhat above the bars. This fan
makes 200 revolutions per minute for a grate 5 feet 6
inches in length, and a greater number for a larger distance
proportionally. The rollers above are worked from the fan
axis by intermediate worms and wheels, so as to make but
1 revolution to 784 revolutions of the fan ; hence the coal,
falling in slow shower, is struck by the vanes of the fan,
revolving with great rapidity, and projected forwards into
the furnace, where it spreads uniformly over the surface of
the burning fuel.
Stanley and In 1834, Stanley and Walmsley patented apian, in which
Walmsley’s the crushed coal fell upon a horizontal revolving plate or fan
patent. projecting into the furnace, and thence was scattered over
the bars by centrifugal action. At the same time the bars Smoke,
were intended to rock, as described above, but by a dif-
ferent arrangement, and a syphon tube and float were at¬
tached for regulating the feed according to the pressure of
steam in the boiler. There is no doubt that the uniform
distribution of the coal, in small but unintermitting quanti¬
ties, over the whole surface of the fire, so far as it is secured
by the above systems, must be to a large extent advan¬
tageous in the prevention of smoke and economy of fuel;
but the complication and expense of the apparatus have
hitherto prevented their general use, although for several
years before the question of the smoke nuisance was taken
up by the public, Stanley’s feeding machines were exten¬
sively employed. They do appear to effect the uniform
distribution of the coal more perfectly than when it is trusted
to hand-labour, and where used they have permitted an
inferior quality of coal to be substituted for that previ¬
ously required.
Mr Bourne and other engineers look to the application Mechanical
of mechanical apparatus for feeding as likely to prove of feeders
signal importance in marine boilers. They suggest that, for marine
with their aid, two tiers of furnaces might be employed, boilers,
and the present very reduced area of grate-bar surface in
marine boilers increased, and that the feeding would be
more efficiently performed, especially in stormy weather,
when the difficulty and labour of stoking night and day are
very considerable.
Plans for the Prevention of Smoke depending upon
increased admission of air.
Under this section we have to consider a large series of
plans, some of which have gained a wide notoriety, and
attained a considerable measure of success in their applica¬
tion. The earliest plans consisted of a simple additional
opening at the bridge, by which a stream of air mingled
with the gaseous products when at their highest tempera¬
ture. A later plan was the introduction of a large plate,
pierced with holes, by which it was conceived that a greater
diffusion of the air in more finely divided streams was ob¬
tained. Then the necessity of a variable instead of a con¬
stant admission of air was advocated, and plans were intro¬
duced for augmenting the supply of oxygen at the time of
feeding, and slowly diminishing it afterwards. Another class
of inventors have sought, not to increase the aperture for
air simply, but to increase the draught by exhausting-fans,
or to induce excited combustion ; and some have sought to
effect this more completely, and at the same time to utilise
the waste heat of the chimney, by attempts to imitate the
hot blast of iron-furnaces introduced by Mr Neilson.
Numerous attempts have been made to abate the nuis- General
ance of smoke by the admission of air through split bridges, considera-
or through the furnace-doors. These have been more ortionsonthe
less successful as the boilers have been of less or greater admission
capacity. No one plan has, however, proved its superiority “i1’’
so strikingly as to justify an adhesion to it rather than to
any other plan ; nor has any project attained such a prefer-
rence in general estimation as to have secured its applica¬
tion in a preponderating majority of cases.
Mr C. Wye Williams, the apostle of “nature” and “the
chemical point of view,” was one of the earliest, as he has
been one of the most pertinacious and consistent, advocates
of the introduction of a large volume of ordinary cold air
into the furnace ; and if he has not solved all the difficulties
of the subject, we have at least to thank him for the labour
he has expended in proving the necessity for air as one of
the prime conditions of economy in the use of fuel, and
success in the prevention of smoke. Probably Mr Williams
has underrated the necessity for space in the furnace, and
has unduly ridiculed those plans in which the consumption
of smoke is sought by an increase of its temperature; that
SMOKE.
357
Smoke.
is, by passing it over or amongst incandescent fuel; but it
is certain that those plans, even if they effect the consump¬
tion cff visible smoke, will be most wasteful of fuel if the
conditions on which Mr Williams insists are not at the
same time complied with. If the supply of air be deficient,
a large quantity of carbonic oxide must be formed—the car¬
bonic acid decomposing and forming, after taking up an
additional atom of carbon, a double volume of carbonic
oxide, and passing off invisibly. Where this takes place
there must be an equivalent loss of heat, the carbonic oxide
carrying off 10,100 thermal units per pound of carbon,
which a sufficient supply of oxygen would have liberated.
To the impossibility of regulating the supply of air, so
that, on the one hand, there may be no carbonic oxide
formed, and, on the other, that no unnecessary waste of
heat be occasioned by the gases passing into the chimney,
is probably to be attributed the fact, that in practice much
economy of fuel from smoke-burning is not generally at¬
tained, although in carefully conducted experiments as
much as 20 to 30 per cent, has sometimes been saved.
The earliest attempts at the introduction of an increased
supply of air were by “ split bridges,” or openings from the
external air through the bridge, behind the grate-bars.
These were first used by Mr Wakefield and Mr Parkes
in 1820—the former feeding thinly and carefully, and dif¬
fusing the air at, the bridge by several apertures ; the latter
throwing in large quantities of coal next the door, the gases
from which becoming intensely heated as they passed over
the incandescent fuel behind, were ignited as they mingled
with the air rushing in at the bridge.
Two different principles have guided the later patentees
   of methods for the admission of air. Mr Wye Williams,
ble admis- anci those who have followed his views, have contended for
lon' a uniform supply, whatever be the condition of the fur¬
nace. Another party, of whom we may instance Mr Syme
Prideaux, contend for a variable supply, greatest when the
fuel is first thrown on, and lessening gradually as the coal
becomes coked and burns clear. Mr Williams relies upon
frequent firing, by which he thinks the needs of the furnace
will be equalised and made uniform; whilst Mr Prideaux
urges that, during the first violent distillation from the fresh
coal, there is a need for a larger quantity of air than at any
other time.
Iplit
ridges
instant
md vari-
MuM
W'ffiams lays the greatest possible stress upon the
fusion8 1 raechanical division of the air, by causing it to enter the
plate. furnace, not in a single stream, but through what he terms
a diffusion-plate, or perforated partition. There is probably Smoke,
some advantage in this mode of admission, which is also
adopted by Mr Prideaux, but it is probably not the whole
secret of smoke prevention. When we consider the laws
of the diffusion of gases, it can scarcely be credited that a
thin perforated plate should divide a current of air into
streams remaining separate at any considerable distance
from the apertures, or make so enormous a difference in the
decompositions going on in the furnace, as Mr Williams
seems to contend. Nevertheless, we owe much to Mr
Williams for his advocacy of a convenient mode of intro¬
ducing air at the point where it is necessary for perfecting
the combustion of the gases ; and there is no doubt that the
use of his simple perforated plate, giving a large increase of
aperture for the admission of air, and placed behind the
bridge, so as to supply pure air at the point where the
stream of gases enters the furnace at its highest tempera¬
ture, will in many cases much reduce the production of
smoke, and in experimental trials has realized an important
saving of fuel.
Mr Williams makes the area of aperture in the diffusion-
plate equal to ^th of the area of the grate, supposing
25 lb. of coal to be burned per square foot per hour.
Mr Syme Prideaux, who contends for a variable supply Mr Pri-
of air, constructs the door of his furnaces with metal vene- deaux’s
tians (fig. 6), which are opened by a lever when fresh coal furnace-
is introduced. The other end of the lever is connected <ioor’
with a piston working in a cylinder, which fills with water
when the piston is raised and the Venetians opened. This
water then slowly escapes through a small orifice, the area
of which can be regulated at pleasure with the greatest
nicety ; and as the cylinder empties, the piston falls, and the
openings in the furnace-door are closed. Thus an opening
of t^Ii the area of the fire-grate is provided with an
arrangement by which, when fresh coal is thrown on, the
whole area may be opened and a maximum supply of air
allowed to pass; then, without any attention from the
stoker, this surplus opening gradually closes at a regulated
rate, and by the time the coal is coked the whole of the
air has to pass through the furnace-bars. Mr Prideaux
further provides a series of vertical plates at the back of the
furnace-door, by which he thinks the air is somewhat heated
before entering the furnace. Lately Mr Prideaux has
adopted a mechanical ar¬
rangement somewhat dif¬
ferent from the piston and
cylinder, which is self-act¬
ing on the opening of the
door. The invention in its
essential features remains,
however, the same.
In 1822 and 1823 pa-Fan, blast,
tents were taken out for and heated
applying a blast to boiler-air’
furnaces, either for forcing
air in at the bridge, or by
exhausting it at the chim¬
ney.
Other inventors, as Hall
in 1836 and Coad in 1835,
have sought to save a por¬
tion of the waste heat, and
also to prevent smoke by
heating the air before it
enters the furnace, in oppo-
_ sition to the views of Mr
Wye Williams, who con¬
siders the colder air to be
preferred. They effect their purpose by causing the air to
enter through a series of pi[ es placed in the flue or chim¬
ney, and heated by the waste products of combustion. If
358
SMOKE.
Smoke, their plans were successful they would at least remove the
principal objection which has been urged against Mr
Williams’s system—viz., that the cold currents which he
introduces, striking against the boiler bottom, cause un¬
equal contraction and loosen the rivets. But they have
given no data for judging of the amount of heat attained
by the air, which'would appear to be very inconsiderable.
Systeme Abroad an entirely new system has been introduced,
Beaufumg. under the name, “ Systeme Beaufume,” and is said, on good
authority, to possess very great advantages, both as regards
economy and entire prevention of smoke. The process has
already been described under the head Iron-Making, to
which process it is peculiarly applicable. The combination
of the fuel takes place in a closed brick retort, surrounded
by a water-chamber, supplied by a fan with a very deficient
amount of air; in fact, only sufficient for the production of
carbonic oxide gas, and the volatilization of the hydro¬
carbons. The gases thus produced are conveyed in pipes
to the combustion-chamber, where, by the introduction of
air, they are completely burned.
On the Prevention of Smoke in Locomotive Boilers.
The locomotive boiler requires a separate consideration,
from the peculiarity of the conditions under which it gene¬
rates steam, and the necessity for special modification of
the contrivances for the prevention of its smoke.
The stringent enactments by which smoke upon rail¬
ways has been prevented hitherto have practically operated
to prevent the use of any fuel except coke, with which, in
the ordinary locomotive furnace, there is no difficulty. Of
late, however, the great demand for coal, and its conse¬
quent high price, together with the expense of the opera¬
tion of coking, have induced several experiments to be
made, with a view of employing the coal in the raw state,
so as to avoid the waste necessarily attendant upon the
coking process.
MrReattie’s On the London and South Western Railway, Mr Joseph
plan. Beattie has introduced a system of combining the use of
coal and coke, by means of an auxiliary fire-box or furnace.
This auxiliary furnace is attached to the back of the ordi¬
nary fire-box, at a little below the level of the foot-plate,
and is surrounded by a water-space similar to and com¬
municating with the water-space of the ordinary fire-box.
The flame and combustible gases thrown off by the coal
pass into the coke fire-box through a series of small tubes,
and, to promote combustion, they strike against and are
diffused by a fire-tile curved bridge, forming a sort of com¬
bustion-chamber. The coal and coke fire-boxes are pro¬
vided with separate ash-pans and close-fitting dampers,
whereby the draught to each can be regulated with the
greatest nicety, independently of one another. The damper
to the coke fire-box is generally kept nearly closed, and is
only opened about inch, with trains of 20 to 24 car¬
riages ; but the damper of the coal fire-box is generally
kept quite open to admit the full draught, by which means
the coal-fire being excited to the utmost, the gases and
flame pass into the coke-fire, and with them air in a heated
state ; the high temperature of the coke-fire is maintained,
and more perfect combustion is the result. The combus¬
tion of the smoke is completely effected, and a considerable
economy of cost obtained. Mr Beattie combines with this
plan an arrangement for heating the feed-water, so as to
economize the waste heat of the exhaust-steam as it passes
into the atmosphere.
Mr Jen- Mr William Jenkins has patented a plan for the use of
kins’s coal- coal in locomotives, depending entirely upon the introduc-
loconio-* t'0n’ t*irouS^ a series of tubes in the fire-box, of a larger
lives. supply of air. These tubes answer as stays, and are placed
on the tube-plate side, so as to admit air to the fuel above
the fire-bars; the outside ends have a valve arrangement
to regulate the quantity of air to be passed through them, Smoke,
or entirely shut it off; and in combining with these arrange-
ments a partition of iron or other suitable material passing
across the fire-box, the object of which is to prevent the
air admitted through the tube-stays from passing directly
to the flue-tubes of the boiler, this partition acting to cause
the air admitted to mix with the combustible gases and
ignite them, thus consuming the smoke. To obviate the
smoke when the engine is standing, Mr Jenkins employs a
steam-jet in the chimney, which can be turned on at plea¬
sure, to supply the place of the blast from the cylinders.
Fig. 7 represents a longitudinal section of an ordinary
fire-box, with Mr Jenkins’s arrangements for burning coal.
Fig. 7.
The principal apertures for air are shown at a a a, as
arranged in rows across the tube-plate to the number of
eighty or more ; these apertures are formed by short tubes,
which take the place of the ordinary fire-box stays. A
plate c c, perforated with holes corresponding to those in
the fire-box, is fitted on the outside, so as to slide in
grooves. This plate is so arranged, that in one position it
completely closes the air-apertures; but it may be drawn
back by the levers d d, and handle indicated at A, and any
requisite amount of opening allowed for the admission of
air. The partition k across the fire-box is supposed to be
of iron, and is perforated with holes, the purpose of which
is to distribute the air admitted through the tube-stays in
numerous jets, so as to secure its commingling with the
combustible gases. This partition is screwed to the tube-
plate, and rests at the ends or flanches secured to the sides
of the fire-box. There are also somewhat similar arrange¬
ments in the fire-door m, by which, if necessary, an in¬
creased supply of air can be admitted.
This system is partially in use on the Great Northern
Railway, on the Lancashire and Yorkshire, and on several
other lines in this and foreign countries, and appears to
act with great efficiency and economy. The Lancashire
and Yorkshire Railway has dispensed with the use of coke
altogether, at an estimated saving of L.27,000 per annum.
lbs.
The average consumption of coke per mile run in 1856, was 3312
The consumption of coal in 1859 was  30,79
Saving  2-33
showing an absolute saving in weight, apart from that
arising from the expense and loss of the coking process.
The plan possesses the further merit of great simplicity,
and it requires no modification of the ordinary arrange¬
ments of a locomotive engine. In fact, it may be applied
to old stock at an expense of L.6 or L.7 a piece.
S M 0
S M O
359
The following comparison of the cost of running on the
Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway has been furnished me
by Mr Jenkins :—
Average Consumption
per mile run.
Goods.
Passen¬
gers.
Total.
Cost per mile run.
Passen¬
gers.
Total.
Month ending Sept. 'I
17,1857—Coke... /
Month ending Sept, j
16, 1858—Coal... /
lb.
40-12
37-17
lb.
25-89
2375
lb.
33-40
3072
d.
2-58
1-19
d.
1-66
076
d.
2-14
0-98
MrD. K. Mr D. K. Clark has proposed a system of coal-burning
jClark’s. jn lOCOmotives, which does not widely differ from that of
furnace^6 ^-r Jen^'ns- agrees with him in believing that a plan,
to be successful, must be simple in design, facile in execu¬
tion, applicable to existing stock, and easy to manage.
His apparatus is external to the fire-box, and therefore not
exposed to heat, and is controlled by a single stop-cock.
Air is admitted above the fuel by one or more rows of tubes
similar to those of Mr Jenkin’s patent, inserted in the walls
of the fire-box, and jets of steam are projected through the
tubes from nozzles -j^th inch in diameter, in small steam-
pipes, placed outside the fire-box. The jets of steam are
used principally when the engine is standing, with the aid
of a light draught from a ring-jet in the chimney to prevent
the smoke, and they may be shut off when not required.
The supply of air through the tubes may be further regu¬
lated by dampers. The grate-bars are placed close to¬
gether, with narrow air-spaces, and the ash-pan and damper
are tightly fitted. This system is said to be working with
success on the Great North of Scotland Railway, and on
the North London Railway.
On the Taff Vale Railway, Mr Tomlinson has also sub¬
stituted coal for coke in the ordinary engines ; the principal
novelty of his plan being the introduction of a layer of
broken fire-brick upon the grate-bars, to protect them from
injury from the burning fuel.
It is alleged that smoke arising from domestic fires and
steam-engine chimneys cannot be entirely prevented; but
at least it has been shown that two-thirds of the immense
volume of smoke which ordinarily pours into the atmosphere
from steam-boilers may be prevented, and the atmosphere
of our towns rendered much more clear and salubrious,
where attempts are made to abate the nuisance. The local
acts of large towns, such as Manchester, Glasgow, Liver¬
pool, Leeds, &c., have enabled the authorities to inflict
penalties on offenders of this kind, and have proved that
dense smoke may be almost entirely removed with proper
care and attention to the mode of firing, supply of air, &c.,
and that with economy in the consumption of fuel. It there¬
fore follows that it is a duty that the owners of steam-
engines should employ the proper means to relieve the
public from an evil which admits of remedy.
On the River Thames, above London Bridge, the nuisance
of smoke from the funnels of the small steamers became
intolerable, until Lord Palmerston obtained an act to com¬
pel the working of their engines without smoke. Under
this act the nuisance has been almost entirely removed ; and
it is to be regretted that it does not extend to the steamers
below the bridge. Some persons maintain that the im¬
provement is to be attributed to the use of Welsh smoke¬
less coal; but, so far as the public are concerned, this ques¬
tion is of little moment, seeing that the evil is prevented.
Be this as it may, it has been shown that the discharge of
dense volumes of smoke can be prevented. If done once,
it can be again ; and, in order to abate the nuisance, the
local authorities should have power to enforce a similar law
in every case where it can be done without injury to indi¬
viduals or to our industrial interests.
Local acts for the abatement of the nuisance of smoke
are not of a stringent character; the penalty seldom ex¬
ceeds a fine of 40s. It is probably desirable that it should
not throw any impediment in the way of our commercial
or manufacturing progress, as any legal interference with
the industrial interests of the community is to be depre¬
cated and avoided. Yet, since it has been proved that a
more efficient process of combustion can be secured, even
in the case of bituminous coal, so as to obviate the nui¬
sance of smoke, and, at the same time, to be a positive
advantage to the consumer, there is no hardship in com¬
pelling the adoption of the requisite means for that pur¬
pose, when it will confer so great a boon on the rest of the
community.
It is on this ground that we advocate the enforcement of
local acts of Parliament; and we believe that they have
contributed much to the comfort of the inhabitants of large
manufacturing towns where steam-engines are employed,
and where, in general, a reckless expenditure of fuel is in¬
dulged in, with no useful result at all, unless enveloping
the surrounding district in a dense canopy of smoke is to
be considered as such.
It is now many years since tall chimneys were erected
for the purpose of abating this nuisance; but these erec¬
tions are only to be regarded as transferring the nuisance
to greater distances, where the unburned carbonaceous
matter is deposited in large flakes, to the annoyance of a
larger circle of inhabitants, and more serious injury to
vegetable life. These are considerations of much import¬
ance to the public; and we hope that the time is not far
distant when we may calculate upon a more improved
system of consumption of our mineral deposits. We are
bound to urge on the public the necessity of adhering to a
sounder and more economical principle of action than has
hitherto been generally adopted.
The reader may consult Charles Wye Williams, On the
Combustion of Coal and the Prevention of Smoke, 1841; and
Prize Essay on the Prevention of Smoke, 1854; T. Syme
Prideaux, Rudimentary Treatise on Fuel, 1853 ; Fairbairn,
Useful Information for Engineers, 1857; Bourne and Arm¬
strong, On the Modern Practice of Boiler Engineering,
1856; Report of Commissioners appointed to Inquire into
the Warming and Ventilation of Dwellings, 1857. (w. F.)
SMOKE-SAIL is a small sail hoisted against the fore¬
mast of a ship, when she rides head to wind, to allow the
smoke of the galley to ascend, and to prevent its falling
back on the quarter-deck.
SMOLENSK, a government of European Russia, lying
between N. Lat. 53. 12. and 56. 30.; E. Long. 31. 50. and
36. 40.; bounded on the N. by the governments of Pskov
and Twer, E. by that of Moscow, S.E. and S. by those of
Kaluga, Orel, and Tchernigov, and W. by those of Mo-
hilev and Vitebsk. Its extreme length from N. to S. is
235 miles; its breadth, 180; its area, 21,671 square miles.
The surface consists generally of a lofty plain, the northern
part of which is traversed by a ridge ot low hills, the Vol-
chonski forest, separating the rivers that flow into the
Baltic from those that flow into the Black Sea. In other
places the plain is undulating, or interrupted only by low
hills. Several rivers of considerable size have their sources
in this government. Among these are the Dnieper, with
its affluents the Sosha and Desna, two small tributaries of
the Volga, and the Ugra, an affluent of the Oka. The
Diina forms the boundary between Smolensk and Pskov,
and receives several small streams from the government.
Smolensk contains a great number of lakes, some of con¬
siderable size, and many morasses. On account of the
elevation of the land, the climate is somewhat cold, espe¬
cially in the winter, when the weather is very severe, and
frost continues till a late period. The temperature of the
summer, on the other hand, is equally extreme, and fosters
Smoke-
sail
Smolensk.
360
S M 0
S M O
Smolensk, a luxuriant vegetation. The weather is regular, and the
air salubrious. Extensive and valuable forests furnish the
most part of the wealth of this region ; and the soil is
generally fertile and well cultivated. Rye is the kind of
corn most extensively raised, but flax, hemp, tobacco, and
hops are also cultivated. In 1849 Smolensk contained
4,962,698 acres of arable land ; 612,201 of meadows ; and
6,760,972 of forests. The timber of these forests is ex¬
cellent, not only for fuel but also for ship-building, and
especially it furnishes very fine masts. For this purpose,
large quantities are conveyed to Riga. Many wild animals
haunt the forests, such as bears, wolves, lynxes, wild boars,
elks, deer, &c. Cattle and horses are reared in large
numbers, the latter in general of the Lethuanian breed.
The oxen are extensively used in agriculture, and many
are also exported. There are large numbers of swine, but
sheep do not thrive well. In 1849, the number of horses
in the government was 478,571; of horned cattle, 549,243;
of sheep, 557,129; of swine, 249,103; and of goats, 11,349.
Large numbers of bees are also kept. The minerals found
in the country are copper, bog-iron, and salt. The manu¬
factures are not very numerous. Linen and woollen cloth
are woven by the country people for domestic use. Besides
this there are 96 manufactories in the government, em¬
ploying in all 2507 hands. Of the former the most im¬
portant are, 46 of leather, 17 of tallow and candles, 9 of
cloth, and 8 of crystal and glass. Of more importance than
the manufactures is the commerce of the government.
This consists chiefly in the exportation of the produce of
the country, and the importation of colonial produce, wines,
and manufactured articles. Most of the articles of home
produce are conveyed by land to Riga, Welna, and Mos¬
cow; large herds of cattle are also driven through Poland
into Germany. The chief commercial towns in the govern¬
ment are Smolensk, the capital, Wiasma, and Gshatsk.
The population is generally Russian, intermixed with a few
Poles, Germans, and Jews ; and the great majority of the
inhabitants belong to the Greek Church. Smolensk is
divided into twelve circles, as follows:—
Pop. (1851.)
Smolensk  73,606
Krasnoi   62,673
Dorogobusch  71,501
Wiasma  78,984
Poretchie  81,326
Gshatsk  116,535
Pop. (1851.)
Sytschevka  93,535
Jelnia  98,801
Bjeloi    108,586
Duchovschtschina.... 83,673
Juchnov  101,164
Rosslavl  99,366
Total 1,069,650
The total population of the government in 1856 amounted
to 1,084,481.
Smolensk, the capital of the above government, on the
right bank of the Dnieper, which is here crossed by a
wooden bridge, 230 miles W. by S. of Moscow. It is sur¬
rounded by a strong, thick, and lofty wall, about two miles
in circuit, but out of repair in some places, and is also
defended by a citadel. Smolensk is one of the most ancient
towns in Russia; but, as it was destroyed during the French
invasion, and rebuilt since that time, it presents few marks
of its high antiquity. It is now regularly laid out, and for
the most part well built of stone. The public buildings
are numerous, and many of them handsome. The most
remarkable are two cathedrals, built in the twelfth century,
one of which contains a bell weighing about 17 tons.
There are numerous other Greek churches, a convent, a
Roman Catholic, and a Lutheran church, several schools,
and charitable institutions. Linen, leather hats, and soap
are manufactured here, and an active trade is carried on.
Smolensk is the see of a bishop, the seat of a military and
civil governor, courts of law, and public offices. In the
principal square stands a cast-iron monument to commemo¬
rate the great battle fought under the walls, August 17,
1812, in which, after being thrice repulsed, the French
succeeded in entering the town. Smolensk seems to have Smollett,
existed as far back as the ninth century. It was for several x Y-»_
hundred years an object of contention between the Lithu¬
anians, Poles, and Russians; but since 1654 it has been in
the possession of Russia. Pop. (1850) 10,792.
SMOLLETT, Tobias, whose writings have conferred
distinguished honour upon the literature of his country, was
descended from a family of considerable antiquity and opu¬
lence in the county of Dumbarton. His grandfather, Sir
James Smollett of Bonhill, married a daughter of Sir
Aulay Macaulay of Ardincaple, and by that lady had four
sons, of whom Archibald, the youngest, was the father of
the novelist. Archibald, who had been bred to no profes¬
sion, died at an early age, leaving his family, consisting of
a widow and three children, one of whom was an infant
daughter, solely dependent on the bounty of his father.
Smollett was born in 1721, in the old mansion-house of
Dulquhurn, now a ruin. It is situated near the village of
Renton, in the parish of Cardross. He was baptized Tobias
George. The valley of the Leven, in which Smollett first
saw the light, is surpassed by no other spot in our island,
either for the grandeur of its scenery or for the venerable
associations with which it is connected.
From the grammar-school of Dumbarton, in which he
had imbibed the rudiments of classical learning, Smollett
was transferred to the University of Glasgow, where he pro¬
secuted his more advanced studies with application and
success. He was afterwards bound an apprentice to Mr
John Gordon, an eminent medical practitioner in that city.
His elder brother James had adopted the profession of
arms, an example which he was ambitious of following;
but the old knight probably illustrated the advantages of
the study of physic by reasoning which it would have been
vain to controvert. When the young student had attained
his eighteenth year, his grandfather died, without having
made any adequate provision for the children of his youngest
son. For this omission, his descendant furnished him with
a niche in Roderick Random, more conspicuous than de¬
sirable.
The term of his apprenticeship having expired in his
nineteenth year, and being now thrown upon his own re¬
sources, Smollett proceeded to London, where he attracted
the notice of Lord Lyttelton. He had carried with him
his tragedy of The Regicide, a juvenile performance of
some merit, but indifferently adapted to the purpose of re¬
presentation. The various efforts which he ineffectually
used to bring his play upon the stage are detailed with in¬
dignant prolixity in the preface to that production, which
he sent to the press some years afterwards, with a view of
heaping confusion upon the lukewarm patronage of Lyttel¬
ton, and upon the evasions of Garrick. The patron and
the manager were visited with many other tokens of his
displeasure; but he lived to repent of the severe retribu¬
tion which he had exacted for trivial wrongs, and made
honourable mention of both in his History of England.
Ihwarted in his expectations of earning fame and profit
as a writer for the stage, Smollett was glad to accept the
situation of surgeon’s mate on board the Cumberland. That
vessel, an 80-gun ship, belonged to the armament which
was bound to the West Indies, to join the fleet under the
command of Admiral Vernon. Of the disastrous expedi¬
tion against Carthagena Smollett inserted an animated
narrative in Roderick Random, and afterwards published
a more detailed account in the Compendium of Voyages.
When the discomfited squadrons returned to Jamaica, he
quitted the service in disgust, and fixed his residence on
the island. With Miss Lascelles, a fascinating West In¬
dian, he there formed an acquaintance, which afterwards
ripened into a matrimonial union. In 1746 he returned to
London, which then resounded with acclamations occasioned
by the victory at Culloden. With these were mingled some
S M 0 L L E T T.
.361
Smiollctt#
expressions of indignation at the atrocities inflicted by the
royal army upon the helpless families of the insurgents.
The voice of Smollett swelled the weaker cry, and he
produced his pathetic ode, The Tears of Scotland. During
the same year was published, Advice, a Satire. His next
literary effort was Alceste, an Opera, which he wrote at the
suggestion of Rich of Covent Garden Theatre. In con¬
sequence of some dispute with that patentee, the piece was
withdrawn, and has never appeared in print. In 1747 he
published Reproof, a second part of his former satirical pro¬
duction. The versification of these poems is sufficiently
harmonious, and they abound with impetuous invective;
but the rage of the satirist is without dignity, and rabid,
without being infectious to readers of the present day.
About this period he married Miss Lascelles, who was pos¬
sessed of a small estate in the island of Jamaica; a preca¬
rious species of property, from which her husband appears
to have derived little or no ultimate benefit.
In the year 1748, appeared The Adventures of Roderick
Random. Fielding had already evinced himself a noble
follower of Cervantes, and Smollett now stood forth a no
less worthy disciple of Le Sage. It must be owned that in
this, and in all the other novels of Smollett, humour fre¬
quently appears in very loose attire. These scenes, how¬
ever, like sheet-lightning, are alarming, but perfectly in¬
nocuous. The solemn depravity of Rousseau is more dan¬
gerous than the ludicrous indecorum of Smollett. In 1749,
The Regicide was published by subscription. During the
summer of 1750, Smollett received the degree of M.D.
from Marischal College, Aberdeen. The same year he
went to Paris, where he is supposed to have occupied him¬
self in composing The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle,
which were published in 1751. This admirable novel is
disfigured by the introduction of an impertinent episode, in
which are detailed, with unrelenting minuteness, the tedious
intrigues of Lady Vane ; who is said to have rewarded
Smollett handsomely for the drudgery of compiling that
durable record of her infamy. To compensate for this
blemish, and for some rash sallies of humour, Peregrine
Pickle is an absolute mine of character and adventure.
The entertainment prepared by the learned physician, in
the manner of the ancients, is perhaps the most irresistible
piece of pleasantry that was ever devised by a ludicrous
fancy. In his heroes and heroines, Smollett is not happy.
For Random we have no respect; for Pickle we have no
esteem ; and Narcissa and Emilia are only the objects of
appetite. Since the days of Tom Bowling and the Com¬
modore, we have seen many sailors in print, who display an
accurate and profound knowledge of technical minutiae ;
but their humour, if they have any, will not pass muster
ashore, the medium through which it is conveyed being to
uninstructed ears a mere succession of unintelligible gib¬
berish. And these modern tars have all a striking family
likeness to each other, with the exception of some senti¬
mental rope-haulers of the American school, who are evi¬
dently monsters of the imagination. But each of Smollett’s
seamen, though drawn to the life, exhibits the strongest
idiosyncrasy of character, and converses in a dialect which
can be readily understood by those who have never seen a
ship.1
The next production of Smollett’s pen was An Essay on
the External Use of Water, in a letter to l)r ; with
particular remarks upon the present method of using the Smollett.
Mineral Waters at Bath, in Somersetshire; and a plan for
rendering them more safe, agreeable, and efficacious, 1752,
4to. At the period of this publication, Smollett resided at
Bath, where he solicited professional employment; but the
reputation of the satirist effectually marred the prospects
of the physician. Despairing of success in his profession,
Dr Smollett now hired a house at Chelsea, where he en¬
tirely devoted himself to literary pursuits. The first fruits
of his retirement were, The Adventures of Ferdinand Count
Fathom, which appeared in 1753. The author’s object in
this production is, to set up the principal character “ as a
beacon for the benefit of the inexperienced and unwary.”
This personage is as much below, as one of Richardson’s
heroes is above, the standard of general nature. Few men
are so virtuous or depraved as to have much sympathy
with either; and it may very reasonably be questioned,
whether any one was ever allured to virtue by viewing the
unattainable perfections of Grandison, or deterred from
vice by contemplating the superlative villany of Fathom.
Besides, a picture of insipid excellence is at least harmless ;
but there is a moral insanity about some men, which leads
them not only to delight in, but sometimes to emulate the
achievements of fictitious desperadoes. The most striking
passage in this novel is the adventure in the forest, which
creates terror as strong as the convulsions of laughter
which reward the exploits of Trunnion and his myrmidons.
But although master of the passions of others, Smollett’s
own were under very indifferent control. A person, called
Peter Gordon, whom he had maintained for a series of
years, and in support of whose credit he had been prevailed
upon to indorse notes, suddenly withdrew into the verge of
the court, where, by means of insulting letters and mes¬
sages, he provoked his benefactor to chastise him by a
beating. An action of damages was commenced against
Smollett. The Hon. Alexander Hume Campbell, who was
counsel for the plaintiff, having opened the proceedings
with much gratuitous insolence towards the defendant and
his witnesses, Smollett addressed a letter to that barrister,
couched in very indignant and sarcastic terms, which after¬
wards found its ways into the fifth volume of the European
Magazine. This infamous prosecution terminated in the
discomfiture of Gordon, but the issue of Smollett’s dispute
with Campbell is involved in obscurity. In the beginning
of the year 1755, Smollett published his translation of Don
Quixote, which was executed amid the anxiety of pecuniary
embarrassment, and for which he had been paid by advance.
This version, while more spirited and elegant than that of
Jarvis, is much less faithful and close, and Smollett made
no scruple to make free use of the work of his immediate
predecessor. If Smollett has surpassed Motteux in main¬
taining the solemn fatuity of the knight, he is less happy
in rendering the proverbial humour of the squire ; for the
corresponding phrases in the English had already been ap¬
propriated, and he was reduced to the necessity of altera¬
tion, when there was no room for improvement.2 After
the publication of Don Quixote, Smollett paid a visit to his
native country. Upon his return to England, he under¬
took the superintendence of the Critical Review. The
editorship of that journal involved him in a thousand vexa¬
tious disputes with persons who were utterly unworthy of
being promoted to the rank of his antagonists. A con-
1 The incident of Tom Pipes’s concealing in his shoe his master’s letter to Emilia, it is curious to trace to the following passage in
Ovid’s Art of Love; which has not escaped the laborious research of Hugo, Le prima Scribendi Origine, p. 154:
Cum possit solea chartas celare ligatas,
Et vincto blandas sub pede ferre notas.
2 There have been no less than seven English translations of this immortal work. The first was by Shelton, 1612-20 ; which was fol¬
lowed by a very vulgar one by John Philips, the nephew of Milton, in 1687 ; the third was by Motteux, 1712—certainly too free, though
agreeable and spirited; the fourth by Jarvis, a very faithful rendering of Cervantes, in 1742 ; the fifth by Smollett, in 1755 ; the sixth
by Wilmot, 1774 ; the seventh anonymous, in 1818, which has acted on the eclectic principle of adopting portions of all that had gone
before it. Those who know Spanish will prefer Jarvis, while the common English reader will give the precedence to Motteux.
VOL. XX. 2 Z
SMOLLETT,
362
Smollett, temptuous critique on the Rosciad, of which he was en-
v , j tirely innocent, provoked the spleen of Churchill,^ whose
brief career was a perpetual crusade against genius and
virtue, and whose coarse and rancorous effusions are now
consigned to merited oblivion ; for posterity has not real¬
ized die hopes of an undying name, so confidently ex-
' pressed by the reverend bard, who proposed to annihilate
the reputation of Pope, and who launched his slight javelins
at the massy buckler of Johnson.
In 1757, Smollett published a popular compilation, en¬
titled A Compendium of Authentic and Entertaining
Voyages, 7 vols. ]2mo. During the same year was per¬
formed and printed The Reprisal, a comedy in two acts.
The characters in this piece are strongly marked, and the
dialogue is extremely spirited, but the situations are con¬
ceived with little dramatic artifice ; a species of knowledge
which often enables the humble retainer of a playhouse to
concoct a drama which shall be admirably well adapted for
the stage, and yet prove not more entertaining in the closet
than a book of arithmetic. In the same year was published
the Complete History of England, deduced from the De¬
scent of Julius Ccesar to the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle,
4 vols. 4to. This surprising effort of industry and genius is
said to have been begun and completed in the course of
fourteen months. If not the most accurate and philosophi¬
cal of historians, Smollett yields to few in the unaffected
elegance of his style, and in the graceful animation of his
narrative. He had been bred a Whig; and whatever were
the motives that led to the political tergiversation which is
manifested in this work, it would be uncharitable to sup¬
pose that they were those of self-interest, a consideration
which does not seem to have influenced any one action of
his life.
In 1789, an article appeare d in the Critical Review, ani¬
madverting in strong terms upon the conduct of Admiral
Knowles, who had written a pamphlet to vindicate himself
from the popular odium which attached to his character, in
consequence of his share in a secret expedition to the
French coast, which was planned and miscarried in 1757.1
The admiral having commenced a prosecution against the
printer*, of which the avowed object was to induce the
writer to declare himself, and give him satisfaction of an¬
other kind, Smollett, in this dilemma, solicited the good
offices of his friend Wilkes, whose rhetoric made no im¬
pression on the incensed commander. At this juncture,
Smollett stepped boldly forth, and proclaimed himself the
author of the obnoxious article, offering the aggrieved party
any satisfaction that he might desire. Upon this declara¬
tion, the magnanimous flag-officer immediately withdrew
his action against the printer, and entered a fresh suit
against the reviewer. The result of the action was, that
Smollett was fined L.100, and sentenced to three months’
imprisonment in the King’s Bench.
To cheer the gloom of his confinement, this indefati¬
gable writer employed himself in composing The Adven¬
tures of Sir Launcelot Greaves, which first appeared in the
British Magazine for 1760 and 1761, and was published
in a separate form in 1762. The eye of criticism has
always looked coldly xipon this performance. Although it
is one of those works of which the execution must be ad¬
mitted to surpass the conception, the story of the modern
Don Quixote is no such incredible figment as it has been
pronounced. Sir Launcelot Greaves is represented as a per¬
son of diseased understanding; and who shall set bounds
to the vagaries of insanity? Nor does Captain Crowe ap¬
pear to act out of character, in becoming a candidate for
the honours of chivalry. For that original is in a state of
happy ignorance concerning all terrestrial affairs; and the Smollett,
profession of a knight-errant appears to his unsophisticated 'v—
understanding to be as lawful a calling as that of a tide-
waiter ; and it is one which is not at all discordant with
the headlong courage and extravagant generosity of a
British seaman.
To the Modern Universal History, which was begun in
1759, and completed in 1764, Smollett contributed the
histories of France, Italy, and Germany. In 1761 had
appeared the first number of his Continuation of the His¬
tory of England, which he finished in 1765 ; the narrative
comprehending the transactions down to that period.
Upon the accession of George III., Smollett appeared in
the character of a political partisan, and drew his pen in
defence of the administration of Lord Bute, in a weekly
paper, entitled The Briton. But being speedily tired of
protecting from obloquy a minister who was indifferent to
public opinion, he retired from the strife, leaving his an¬
tagonist, The North Briton, master of the field. This
contest terminated an intimacy of long standing between
Smollett and Wilkes. Notwithstanding his inferiority in
talents, that demagogue had some decided advantages over
his opponent. Wilkes was a cool political pugilist, who
gathered courage from the applauses of the mob; while
Smollett was greeted with a general burst of popular exe¬
cration, which worked him into a phrensy that deprived
him of his strength.
Smollett’s name stands in the title-page of a translation
of the works of Voltaire, and also in that of a compilation
entitled The Present State of all Nations. These works,
to which he contributed sparingly, were published in 1763.
In that year he sustained an irreparable loss in the death
of his only child, a daughter named Elizabeth, who had at¬
tained the fifteenth year of her age. This calamity threw
an impenetrable gloom over the brief remainder of his life.
In the hope of dissipating his own grief and that of his wife,
by change of scene, he passed over into France; in which
country, and in Italy, he resided for two years. In 1766,
he published his Travels through France and Italy. This
production displays his usual acuteness of observation and
felicity of expression, but he appears to have contemplated
every object through the distorted medium of disease and
lacerated feelings. Sterne, who had met the bereaved
father abroad, took an opportunity of exulting over the in¬
firmities of rival genius, in his Sentimental Journey.
In 1766, Smollett visited Scotland for the last time. At
this period, he was a martyr to asthma and rheumatic pains,
and afflicted with a virulent ulcer on his arm. In the fol¬
lowing year, while residing at Bath, he enjoyed a short
interval of convalescence, during which he wrote the Ad¬
ventures of an Atom. In this political romance, he has
blended, with greater dexterity than judgment, the reck¬
less jollity of Rabelais with the withering sarcasm of Swift.
With much wit and humour, this production betrays great
physical indelicacy, a latent ferocity of sentiment, and an
unqualified abhorrence of the lower order of the commu¬
nity, which is far from edifying. It may here be remarked,
that the learning which is scattered through the fictitious
narratives of Smollett, would, with proper management,
make a most imposing show in works of much graver pre¬
tensions. Neither does he ever, like Fielding, hover on
the verge of pedantry; nor resort to the disingenuous arti¬
fice of dazzling unlettered eyes with borrowed erudition,
like Sterne, who had cool effrontery enough to express his
sovereign contempt of literary larceny in the unacknow¬
ledged words of Burton. See Scott’s Biographical Me¬
moirs of Eminent Novelists, vol. i., p. 294.
1 The offensive words were “ He is an admiral without conduct, an engineer without knowledge, an officer without resolution, and a
man without veracity.” Knowles was one of the heroes of Carthagena, at which memorable expedition he commanded the Weymouth,
of 60 guns.
S M U
S M Y
Smugglers After the publication of this romance, Smollett’s com¬
plaints returned with increased violence, and his medical
'Smyrna.^ frien(js declared that his only chance of life lay in a more
* salubrious climate. To the great he never applied in vain,
for he never applied at all. His friends, however, made
some fruitless efforts to interest the ministry in his behalf.
But from Smollett was sternly withheld that bounty which
has often, before and since, been lavished with a prodigal
ha,nd upon the most wortliless and foolish of mankind.
W ith a constitution worn out in the service of literature,
and with a purse which had been emptied in the lap of
indigence, Smollett proceeded to Italy in 1770.
The last, and perhaps the best of all his works, was The
Expedition of Humphrey Clinker, published in 1771. Each
character in the galaxy of originals which are there por¬
trayed may submit without apprehension to Ben Jonson’s
test of humour:—
“ When some one peculiar quality
Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw
All his affects, his spirits, and his powers,
In their confluctions, all to run one way,
This may be truly said to he a humour.”
Having bequeathed this legacy to the public, Smollett
died at Monte Nero, a village in the neighbourhood of Leg¬
horn, on the 21st of October 1771, in the fifty-first year of
his age. A monument was erected to his memory by his
widow, and a cenotaph on the banks of the Leven by his
cousin, James Smollett, Esq. of Bonhill, which bore an
inscription corrected by the pen of Samuel Johnson.
To a handsome person, and an address at once dignified
and engaging, Smollett added colloquial powers of the
highest order. His irascible passions were strong, but his
social affections were not less so. If it is remembered that
his personal and political prejudices were intense, let it not
be forgotten that zealous friendship and ardent patriotism
were among the number. He was improvident, for his
hand was only closed to the necessities of others when he
had nothing to bestow. He was a man of undaunted reso¬
lution, and lofty independence of mind. He was vindictive,
but not implacable, and melted at the first appearance of
contrition in those who had injured him. He was jealous
of his fame, his sole possession, but he envied that of no
other man, whether deserved or otherwise. Of Smollett,
as an author, it may be truly said, that of the many different
kinds of composition which he has attempted, there is none
to which he has not communicated peculiar graces; nor can
vye hesitate for a moment in adding his name to the scanty
list of those who have extended the limits of intellectual
enjoyment. For more circumstantial details of the life of
Smollett, the reader is referred to the narratives of Dr
Anderson and Dr Moore.
SMUGGLERS, persons who import or export prohibited
goods without paying the duties appointed by the law.
SMYRNA ( Turk. Izmir}, the most important commercial
city of Asiatic Turkey, on the south shore of the gulf of the
same name, near its head, N. Lat. 38. 25., E. Long. 27. 9.;
about 210 miles S.S.W. of Constantinople. The situation
is very fine. High mountains covered with forests inclose
the gulf on all sides at a little distance, and close to the
town there is a hill, the ancient Mons Pagus, now sur¬
mounted by a castle. On the western slope of this hill,
and on a triangular plain between it and the sea, Smyrna
is built; its houses, domes," minarets, towers, and cypress-
tiees rising with a fine effect from the margin of the sea.
• ™ mterior of the town, however, like that of most others
in urkey, is by no means so pleasant. The streets are
narrow^ crooked, and dirty ; the houses frail and wretched,
emg built, except in the Frank quarter, almost exclusively
-there are four different quarters in Smyrna,
in abited by different nations. The Turks occupy the
npper part of the city, on the slopes of the hill; beneath
them, on the lower slopes and centre of the plain, is the
Armenian quarter ; the Jews are confined to two or three
small interstices between the two former; and the Franks
occupy the best part of Smyrna, along the shore for about
two miles. There is excellent anchorage in the bay, and
the water is so deep as to allow large vessels to lie close to
the shore. A series of quays extends along the margin of
the bay, lined with many handsome stone-houses and
whitewashed warehouses. Among the public buildings are
several bazaars constructed of wood, dark and intricate,
but stored with a profusion of various silk, woollen, and
cotton goods. 1 he vizier-khan is formed out of the re¬
mains of the ancient theatre. On the summit of the hill
stands the extensive castle, occupying the site, and par¬
tially built with the remains of the ancient acropolis. It has
a very incongruous appearance, as it has been frequently
repaired, and is now deserted, though still mounted with a
few cannons. Within the enclosure is a ruined mosque,
said to have been the primitive Christian church of Smyrna,
.The present mosques are nineteen in number, all open to
Christian visitors. The largest is profusely decorated with
lamps, ostrich eggs, and horse tails, suspended from the
ceiling. Smyrna has also seven synagogues; Protestant,
Roman Catholic, Greek, and Armenian churches; a convent,
Greek college, governor’s palace, hospital, and barracks.
Consuls from Great Britain, the United States, and most
of the continental nations, have residences in the European
part of Smyrna. The Turkish burying-ground, on the
way up to the castle, is large and ancient, and contains
many tall cypress-trees. The climate of Smyrna is very
hot; as the surrounding mountains concentrate upon it the
rays of the sun, and this, together with the crowded and
dirty state of the town, renders it very unhealthy. The
plague occasionally makes its appearance, and commits
great ravages. It is to its trade that the town owes its
great importance, and all its activity and animation. During
the fruit season, long strings of camels are continually
entering the town from all parts of Asia Minor. Figs,
raisins, and other fruit, as well as silk, cotton, oil, opium,
skins, &c., are exported; while coffee, sugar, indigo, tin,
iron, lead, cotton cloth, rum, and brandy are imported.
During the Russian war of 1854-6, the trade of Smyrna
attained an extent previously unprecedented ; but in the
commercial crisis of 1857 it suffered considerably. The
following table exhibits the value of exports and imports to
and from the different countries that trade with Smyrna in
1858.
Countries. Exports. Imports.
Great Britain L.1,059,540 944,197
Turkish ports  3 85,542 579,935
Austria  433,669 325,587
France  283,628 356,693
America  163,445 158,212
East Indies  92,628
Holland  18,123 34,190
Sardinia  16,587 32,722
Greece  15,410 31,692
Tuscany  16,108 20,116
Russia  35,819
Belgium  3,707 25,625
Malta    8,110 15,360
Ionian Islands  11,543 2,605
Hanse Towns '.  5,385
Two Sicilies  4,087 491
Papal States  612 3,600
Gibraltar  1,500
Total  2,345,450 2,531,025
The number of vessels that entered the harbour in 1855
was 1805, tonnage 420,438; those that cleared 1771, ton¬
nage 411,157, exclusive of the steam navigation. Six
journals are published at Smyrna, in five different lan¬
guages. Steamers ply to Constantinople, Marseilles, Malta,
ms
Smyrna.
364
S N E
Sneek and other ports in the Mediterranean. The town is said to
II be of ^reat antiquity; and if we may believe some tradi-
Sniadecki. tionS) ‘it derived its origin as well as its name from an
Amazon called Smyrna. It is regarded by some as having
been originally a colony of Ephesus, subsequently occupied
by the iEolians ; but the account given by Herodotus re¬
presents it as first colonized by the latter, who possessed it
till the vear 688 b.C. It was then, by the machinations
of some "exiles from Colophon, transferred to the Ionian
League, of which it formed the thirteenth city. Gyges,
Kin° of Lydia, made an unsuccessful attack upon the city ;
but a subsequent monarch, Sadyattes, about 627 b.c., took
and destroyed it. From this time Smyrna lay in ruins for
about 400 years. The design of Alexander to rebuild the
city was cut short by his death, but afterwards resumed by
Antigonus, and completed by Lysimachus. The new city,
which did not occupy precisely the site of the old, became
one of tbe finest then existing. It had regular, well-paved,
handsome streets, several squares and porticoes, temples,
and other public buildings. It was the largest as well as
the most wealthy and commercial city in Asia Minor.
Although in the civil war that followed the death of Caesar,
it was partially destroyed by Dolabella; yet it speedily re¬
covered its former prosperity. After the Christian era,
Smyrna was the seat of one of the earliest churches, one
of the seven mentioned in the Book of Revelation. Poly¬
carp, a disciple of the apostle John, is said to have been the
first bishop; and he suffered martyrdom at an advanced
age, about 167 a.d. In ancient times, as in modern,
Smyrna seems to have been peculiarly subject to earth¬
quakes ; in 178 it was destroyed by one, but rebuilt by the
Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Under the Eastern Empire,
towards the time of its downfall, Smyrna experienced many
vicissitudes of fortune. Near the end of the eleventh cen¬
tury, the city, having been occupied by a Turkish chief¬
tain, called Tzachas, was nearly destroyed by a Greek
fleet. It was rebuilt by the Emperor Comnenus, and
afterwards came into the hands of the Genoese, who re¬
tained it till 1364. Tamerlane captured it in 1402, and
soon after it came finally into the possession of the Turks,
its present masters. It has suffered very frequently from
earthquakes, conflagrations, and the plague. In July 1841,
upwards of 12,000 houses were destroyed here by fire ;
and in 1846 an earthquake inflicted great damage. Smyrna
wras one of the many cities that contended for the honour
of having given birth to Homer; and in the opinion of
modern scholars, it is the one which has most in its favour.
The city in ancient times possessed a Homerium or temple
to the great poet; and a cave was pointed out in the vici¬
nity where he wrote his poems. The population of Smyrna
at the present day is estimated at about 150,000 ; of whom
about 80,000 are Turks, 40,000 Greeks, 15,000 Jews,
10,000 Armenians, and 5000 Franks.
SNEEK, a town of Holland, in the province of Fries¬
land, on a lake of the same name, 13 miles S.S.W. of Leu-
warden. It lies low, and is enclosed and traversed by
several canals or ditches, crossed by wooden bridges. Here
are a neat small town-hall, court-house, prison, several
churches, schools, and hospitals. The town has boat-build¬
ing yards, rope-walks, potteries, tanneries, foundries, soap-
works, and a considerable trade in butter and cheese. Pop.
7500.
SNELL, Willebkord. See Geometry.
SNIADECKI, Jan, a Polish astronomer and mathe¬
matician, was born at Znin on the 29th of August 1756.
He began his education at Pozen, continued it at Cracow,
and completed it at Gottingen. While at the univer¬
sity he was distinguished for his classical attainments, and
it is told by his biographer, Balinski, that he had the
whole of Horace by heart. In 1777 he was, appointed
teacher of statics, hydraulics, logic, and political economy
S N O
at Nowodwov in Cracow. Some time after he visited Snorro
Paris, where he made the acquaintance of Laplace, Con- Sturleson.
dorcet and D’Alembert; and in 1787 he visited England,
having previously mastered the English language so far as to
be able to read the mathematical writings of Maclaurin and
Simson. He visited Sir William Herschel and his observa¬
tory at Slough, and made the acquaintance of some eminent
English mathematicians and astronomers. After his re¬
turn to Poland he seldom left his post as professor of ma¬
thematics and astronomy at Cracow, till 1806, when he
was transferred to the university seat of Wilna. Sniadecki
here engaged in numerous astronomical observations, many
of which will be found published in the Transactions of the
St Petersburg Academy, and in the Berlin Astronomische
Jahrbucher. On the suppression of the university of
Wilna, Sniadecki retired, and died in 1830. A collected
edition of his works, with a life by Balinski, was published
in 8 vols., Warsaw, 1837-39. The mathematician and
astronomer had a younger brother, Andrzej Sniadecki,
who was an eminent physiologist. He was born in 1768,
and died in 1838. He studied successively at Cracow,
Pavia, and Edinburgh, and returned home to profess
chemistry and physiology at the university over which his
elder brother presided in his later years. The most im¬
portant work of this writer was his Theory of Organic Ex¬
istences, 2 vols., 1804-11, which has been translated into
German and French, and is much esteemed.
SNORRO STURLESON, for so his name is most fre¬
quently written, was the last and the greatest of the northern
scalds, and was born at Hoam, in the bailiwick of Dale, in
the western province of Iceland, in 1178. He was de¬
scended, like all families of consequence among the North¬
men, from the royal line of Odin, and held by hereditary
right the dignity of a godar, or priest and judge over his
immediate locality. Following the custom of the time,
young Snorro was sent to be fostered by one John Lop-
ston, a person of some consideration both for the literary
renown which still lingered in his family, and from his near
claims to the notice of royalty, being by his mother an ille¬
gitimate grandchild of King Magnus Barefoot. The re¬
miniscences of such a household would be peculiarly
favourable for the growing genius of the future chronicler.
Before Snorro had reached his nineteenth year, his father,
Sturla Thordarson, had died. He likewise lost, at that age,
his generous foster-father, John Lopston. As he ad¬
vanced in years he was observed to be passionate, sanguine,
and daring. He married at the age of twenty-one, and
got a considerable dowry by his wife. He had several
children by this woman, besides a number of illegitimate
ones. He made a journey to Norway about 1221, where
it is supposed he collected the information given in his
saga regarding Sweden, Denmark, and Norway; and
where he was made cup-bearer or chamberlain to King
Hakon. Tired of the affections of his first wife, in 1224,
he took to himself a rich widow with a large fortune. His
sons, and his sons-in-law, now allied themselves against him,
and resolved, by fair or foul play, to seize upon the fortunes
to which they were justly entitled. It is reported of
Snorro that, when the young kinsmen strove to obtain
their own by legal means, he went with 600 or 800 men,
and obtained by force the decision which he desired.
This passionate, self-willed, obstinate man, over whom
the moral sense had no control, and in whom the intellect
rose to the confines of genius, used all his Titanic strength,
and rude, wild energy, to break up this family feud, and
strew its dissentient members abroad over the world. The
young scions of his house had probably not a little of his
own fierceness and lawlessness, combined with a vindictive¬
ness that would have done honour to a Corsican, and they
resolved to wait and watch their opportunity, and accom¬
plish by stealth what they could not compass by publicity.
S N O
Snorro This ambitious old scald was both rich and learned. He
Burleson, fortified and adorned his residence at Reikholt, with a bar-
baric magnificence quite unheard of. In 1237 he revisited
Norway, but from ambition, or from some other motive,
transferred his allegiance from King Hakon to Duke Sku e,
who had distant claims to the crown. The king now pro¬
nounced him a traitor. Snorro returned to Iceland, but
the royal scouts were charged to bring him alive or dead
to Norway. Iceland should see now what would become
of the man who was accused of secretly negotiating for her
subjection to the Norwegian crown ! The domestic fac¬
tion which Snorro had so relentlessly kindled still kept
smouldering, and was kept warm by the ceaseless fanning
of private animosity. We must not try the social morals
of the thirteenth century by any standard of our own ma¬
nufacture. The scale of manners was, doubtless, very low
at that period in Iceland. Nothing but the most passion¬
ate lawlessness, and the bloodiest vindictiveness, were the
current usage of that wild age. Christianity had not
yet gained footing amid the peoples of the North; and
their manners were, of course, as heathenish as the rudest
Pagan could have desired. The three sons-in-law of
Snorro, Gissur, Kolbein, and Arne, came by night to his
strong residence at Reikholt, and murdered him in Sep¬
tember 1241, in his sixty-third year. Thus died the Hero¬
dotus of the North, a wild, selfish, ambitious spirit, who
discarded all moral and religious considerations; but who
had a power of insight capable of seeing into the compli¬
cated mechanism of the human heart; and a power of
portraying the character and individuality of each of his
heroes, that has very seldom been surpassed by any writer
■in any age. As a slight palliation of the rude lines in
which his character is drawn, we must mention that all
that is known regarding the person of Snorro Sturleson is
derived from the accounts handed down to us in his own
family.
The Heimskringla (or circle of the earth) is the name
by which Snorro Sturleson’s greatest work is known.
The name was derived from the first prominent word in
the old scaldic manuscript of Snorro. He calls his book
the Saga, or Story of the Kings of Norway ; and it is in
reality a connected series of memoirs of the kings and
heroes who figured prominently on the Scandinavian penin¬
sula, in Denmark, and in England, from the earliest period,
when mythology and history are indistinguishably blended,
down to the year 1178. It is a beautiful collection of
sagas, or historical notices of incidents, anecdotes, and
speeches, told in a fascinating manner by a man who could
vividly recal and present the scenes which passed before
his own imagination, hung out in all the rude drapery
in which the actors delighted to appear. The work is
thickly interspersed with rude snatches of scaldic song,
which were introduced by the author to heighten the
general effect.of his narrative, or to add a kind of rough
ornament to a story that had sufficient strength in it
already. The copy of the Heimskringla made in 1230 by
Snorro’s nephew, Sturla, is considered the most authentic
text of the work. Copies of this MS. were made as late as
1567. In 1594 a Danish translation of portions of the
Heimskringla was published by Mortenssen. In 1599
Peter Claussen executed a Norwegian translation of it,
which was published by Wormius in 1633. I he first
complete edition of the work was published in 1697, by
Peringskiold, with Swedish and Latin versions of it. It
was translated into Danish and Latin by Schoning, Ihor-
lacius, and Werlauf; which, with the original Icelandic
text very carefully collected, formed six volumes, and was
published between 1777 and 1826. Grundtvig executed
a Danish version of the Heimskringla in three volumes,
1818-1822. In 1838 Jacob Aal published an excellent
Norse translation of the work; and in 1844 Samuel Laing
S O A
translated the Heimskringla into English in three volumes,
with a preliminary dissertation on the learning, religion,
and social condition of the inhabitants of the North.
A number of poems, forming part of the Skallda of
Rask, Stockholm, 1818, and Havn, two volumes, 1848-52,
are ascribed to Snorro; besides some poems on contempo¬
rary heroes, and certain small scientific manuals.
SNOW. See Meteorology.
SNOWDON, the highest mountain in England and
Wales, rises near the centre of the chain extending across
the county of Carnarvon, from S.W. to N.E., from the coast
near Nevin to Penmaen-mawr, near Conway. The length
of the chain is about 35 miles, and its average breadth 6
miles. The highest point, which is distinguished by the
name of y-Wyddfa, is 3571 feet above the sea; the second,
called Carnedd Llewelyn, 3469. The nucleus of the ridge
consists of primitive rocks, which are flanked by strata of
slate and limestone. In several places copper is found.
The western side of Snowdon is more steep than the eastern,
and is partially formed of basalt.
SNYDERS, or Sneyders, Francis, one of the ablest
coadjutors of Rubens, and the prince of animal-painters,
particularly in the represention of wild animals in action,
was born at Antwerp in 1579. Snyders followed the style
of his master Henry Van Balen until the completion of
his apprenticeship, when he pursued the bent of his own
genius in the representation of fruit, vegetables, and dead
game. It is admitted even by the most fastidious critics,
that for masterly design, vigorous handling, and richness
of colouring, he has never been surpassed in this particular
department. Some writers report that this artist went to
Italy, but as this statement does not hang well together, it
may be judicious to give over repeating it. He subsequently
adopted the study of wild beasts, and succeeded in repre¬
senting such animals as the lion, the wolf, and the boar, par¬
ticularly when roused to fury by the pursuit or attack of
men or dogs, with amazing truthfulness of expression.
Snyders afterwards became a coadjutor of the great painter
Rubens. Fruit, vegetables, dead game, and wild animals,
where they are introduced into the designs of this artist, were
almost invariably painted by Snyders. Rubens reserved to
himself the harmonizing of the whole picture, and he gene¬
rally designed or suggested those wild animals which he left
to others to paint. In numerous instances, pictures attributed
to Rubens or to Jordaens, were for the most part executed
by Snyders. He usually painted the animals in a picture,
and left it to others to execute the human figures and the
accessories. Thus, in many of the pieces of Rubens, the
human figure was executed by him besides the entire
design, and his friendly rival, Snyders, completed the
animal portion of the picture. Between Rubens, Jor¬
daens, and Snyders there seems to have been a more per¬
fect artistic harmony, than can be pointed out in any other
liberal brotherhood short of the dramatists of Queen Eliza-
beth’s reign in England. Numerous illustrations of Snydeis
painting are to be seen in many of the English collections.
The manner of this admirable artist has been imitated by
his pupils Jacobs and Boel. Snyders died in 1657.
SOAP, is a peculiar chemical compound of animal or
vegetable oils and fats, with the alkalies. The use of soap
does not date from a very early period; although men¬
tioned in the Bible there is much reason to believe that
alkali used in washing is meant, and not manufactured
soap. It appears to have originated in Germany, and was
introduced to the Romans about the beginning of the
Christian era. At first its use seems to have been greatly
misunderstood, for Pliny says, “ Soap, too, is very useful
for this purpose” (the dispersion of scrofulous sores), “an
invention of the Gauls for giving a reddish tint to the hair.
This substance is prepared from tallow and ashes, the best
ashes for the purpose being those of the beech and yoke
365
Snow
366
Soap.
SOAP.
elm ; there are two kinds of it, the hard soap and the liquid,
^ both of these used by the people of Germany, the men in
particular more than the women.” It is more than prob¬
able that Pliny was mistaken in the motive of the Gauls
for washing their heads with soap, and that the reason was
cleanliness, which of course brightened the naturally light
colour of their hair.
The aborigines of South America manufacture a kind of
hard soap in a very peculiar manner ; but whence they de¬
rived the art, or how long they have used it, is not known.
They select a tree, which in the neighbourhood of Para is
called Chereuba; this is cut down and burned to ashes,
which are mixed with lime and Carapa oil, made from the
large seeds of Carapa Guianensis, and, boiled, it is poured
off from the ashes whilst liquid, and hardens on cooling.
I his soap is much used by the washerwomen in many parts
of Brazil.
Many plants are found to have detergent properties
similar to soap, and in the countries producing them are
employed for washing. Thus, in the West Indies and
tropical America, the berries of the soap-tree (Sapindus
saponaria), are much used, and are found to be very far
superior in cleansing power to common soap. Another
South American tree, the Quillaia saponaria, and perhaps
other species of the same genus, yields a bark which has
very powerful saponaceous qualities, and is not only used
extensively in its native country, but has recently been
introduced experimentally to this country, several impor¬
tations having been received at Liverpool, for making a
saponacous solution for washing woollens. It is at least
equal if not superior in strength to our best yellow soap.
Where known, it is esteemed for washing the hair.
The natives of the Malayan Islands use the bark of the
Gogo-tree (Entada purscetha) for the same purposes, and
this bark is highly prized by the ladies of Manila for cleans¬
ing and brightening their beautiful tresses. Various other
vegetable productions are used, but less extensively. The
process of saponification is much varied, and considerable
difference also exists in the oleaginous materials, conse¬
quently we find numerous kinds of soap in use for different
purposes. The ordinary process consists in submitting
oleaginous or fatty matters to the chemical action of alka¬
line lyes, and boiling the compound to get rid of a portion
of the water used for the solution of the alkali. They
may be arranged under the following heads—Hard, Soft,
and Medicated Soaps, each of which comprises numerous
varieties.
Common Hard Soap is of three kinds—yellow, white,
and mottled. In making the yellow kind, the materials em¬
ployed are tallow, grease, or kitchen and bone fat, palm-oil,
resin, and the alkaline lye or solution of soda-ash, or crude
carbonate of soda. The lye is prepared in the soda-vats,
which are cast-iron cylinders about 6 feet wide by 4 or
5 feet in depth, and having perforated bottoms, below which
is a large funnel for receiving the filtered lye. In the vat
a layer of quick-lime is first placed, then successive layers
of soda-ash and lime, through which water is allowed to
percolate until it has dissolved about 2 per cent, of the
alkali rendered caustic by the action of the quick-lime.
A ton of the fat melted in the boiler requires 200 gallons
of the lye for the first process. They are gently boiled*for
four hours, and then allowed to cool; the partially formed
soap subsides; and the lye is drawn off clear, and exhausted
of its alkali. A second charge of fresh lye is then added,
and the process repeated three times a-day for about six
days. Previous to the last boil, the resin is added, as it is
too liable to be liquefied by the alkaline lyes if exposed
to the action of the whole series; the quantity of resin
must always be less than half the fats employed, and before
using must be reduced to coarse powder. Palm-oil is gen¬
erally one of the fatty ingredients when resin is employed,
its pleasant violet odour and bright golden colour serving
to disguise the resin. The great soaperies of Lancashire
and Cheshire, which supply the vast export trade from Liver¬
pool, produce most of the yellow soap made in England,
The soap is transferred from the boilers to the frames
in a liquid state, and allowed to solidify by cooling. These
frames are made of thick bars of wood, of the same width
and length as an ordinary bar of soap; four of these are
joined together, forming a square frame, and a number of
these frames being placed one upon another, iron rods are
passed through holes in the thickness of the wood, and
being screwed up tight, form a sort of tank in which the
liquid soap soon becomes solid. When this has taken
place, the iron rods are withdrawn, and a thin piece of wire
is inserted between the top frame and the one below it, and
is made to cut through the soap in the line of the lower
part of the frame. The top frame with its square of en¬
closed soap is then lifted off, and the process repeated until
all the frames are separated. After a little exposure to the
drying influence of the air, the soap is easily detached from
the flames, and is then cut into bars and packed into boxes
for sale.
Common White Soap is made in the same manner, with
the exception of the palm-oil and resin, which are omitted,
tallow being chiefly used, to which, in some sorts, cocoa-
nut oil is frequently added.
Mottled Soap, which is almost peculiar to the London
soaperies, is made of the same materials as the white
soap, but previous to the last boil the mass is watered
with a strong lye of crude soda, poured upon it by means
of an ordinary gardener’s watering-pot with a large rose.
The mottling of the celebrated Castile soap is produced by a
similai process, a solution of sulphate of iron being employed
instead of the crude soda. In Southern Europe olive-oil
is used instead of tallow, and forms a hard white soap.
The finer hinds of Hard Soap, or Toilet Soaps, are
made of fine white tallow, suet, palm, olive, or almond oils,
or a mixture of two or more of these, according to the
quality required. The best Windsor soap is made with nine
parts of fine tallow and one of olive-oil, the latter being
pi eferred to suet, which is used for the inferior sort, in con¬
sequence of its slower saponification insuring a more perfect
combination of the alkaline with the fat acids. The per¬
fume used is a mixture of 6 lbs. of oil of caraway seed,
lb. of oil of lavender, and 1| lb. of oil of rosemary, to
every 1000 lb. of the soap. The brown kind is coloured
with burned sugar, or umber and Armenian bole; the
latter colouring is used only for inferior sorts.
Honey Soap, now extensively used, is made by re-melt¬
ing three other kinds, namely, palm-oil, olive-oil, and curd
soaps, and scenting with the citronelle oil or essential oil of
Andropogo7i citratum, which gives it its peculiar honey scent.
I he other leading kinds of perfumed soaps are almond,
rose, cinnamon, musk, and orange-flower soaps*oA of which
vary in their composition more or less, according to the
taste of the manufacturer.
Soft Soap differs both in composition and in the pro¬
cess of its manufacture, from hard soap. Instead of soda
being used for the alkaline, base potash is employed. The
following is given by Dr Ure as the process
A portion of the oil being poured into the pan, and
heated to nearly the boiling point of water, a certain quan¬
tity of the weaker lye is introduced, the fire being kept up
so as to bring the mixture to a boiling state. Then some
more oil and lye are added alternately, until the whole
quantity of oil destined for the pan is introduced. The
ebullition is kept up in the gentlest manner possible, and
some strong lye is occasionally added, till the workman
judges the saponification to be perfect. The boiling
becomes progressively less tumultuous, the frothy mass
subsides, the paste grows transparent, and it gradually
S O A
thickens. The operation is considered to be finished when
the paste ceases to affect the tongue with an acrid pungency,
when all milkiness and opacity disappear, and when a little
of the soap placed to cool upon a glass plate assumes the
proper consistency.”
The peculiar granular appearance of the soft soap used in
this country, and which makes it so much resemble the pulp
of ripe figs, is produced by the addition of small quantities
of tallow, which are disseminated through the mass, and
form the white specks. From its appearance when complete,
this operation is technically called figging. The oils
generally used are the fish, whale, and seal oils, but on the
continent various seed-oils, especially those from hemp-
seed, linseed, colsa-seed, and poppy-seed. The continental
soap-makers give the soft soap a green colour, which is
sometimes produced by the addition of indigo.
Soft soap is much used in cleansing woollen fabrics, for
which its superior solubility and great detergent power
specially fit it. A very coarse kind is used by farriers
under the name of black soap. There are a few varieties
of soft soap used for toilet purposes, the principal of which
is Naples soap, used chiefly for shaving. It is said to be
made only from olive-oil and potash ; but all imitations of
it differ from the true Italian manufacture. It is much
prized in consequence of its softening power upon the hair.
The Medicated Soaps have lately acquired some import¬
ance in pharmacy, particularly on the continent. The
Castile soap, previously mentioned, is generally used as the
base of these preparations. The most valuable of all medi¬
cated soaps is the Chlorinated, the Savon Antisyphilitique
of French pharmacy. It is made by working together one
part of chloride of lime with eleven of Castile soap, using
spirit of wine scented with oil of verbena to effect the in¬
corporation. The mass is then fashioned into little flat cakes,
and folded carefully in tinfoil or gutta-percha paper. It is
powerfully detergent, and is very effective in removing
stains, and is known to be of remarkable efficacy in pre¬
venting the effects of contagion, if the hands or clothes are
washed with it. The other medicated soaps are antimonial,
croton, guaiacum, iodine, mercurial, tar, turpentine, sul¬
phuretted vitriol, &c., the formulae for which are in the
pharmacopoeias.
Arsenical soap is of considerable importance to the natura¬
list, being an effectual preservative of the skins of animals,
particularly of birds, and those most liable to the attacks
of moths. It is composed of carbonate of potash, twelve
parts; of white arsenic, common white soap, and air-slaked
lime, each four parts; and powdered camphor, one part, with
enough of water to make it into a paste.
The rationale of the process of saponification was first
explained by Chevreul, who showed that in the combina¬
tion new substances capable of forming salts and posses¬
sing true acid properties are generated out of the elements
of the fat, under the influence of the alkaline base. Com¬
mon fat saponified consists of a mixture of stearic, margaric,
and oleic acids, each combined with the base, and the
peculiar neutral liquid substance called glycerine, which
resembles colourless syrup, and is miscible with water.
Glycerine is obtained from other sources than soap, and for
commercial purposes is generally procured by refining the
svieet liquor of the stearine-makers; it is now extensively
used chiefly in pharmacy for external applications. When
pure it is colourless, odourless, sweet to the taste, and of a
syrupy consistency; it feels soft like oil, but has no greasi¬
ness, and it does not evaporate at ordinary temperatures;
hence its value to the surgeons for keeping inflamed parts
moist.
The importance of this branch of manufacture is very
considerable, whether it be viewed with respect to its sani¬
tary effects upon the human race, or in its bearing upon
other important manufactures. In no country is it used
so c
367
Society.
to the same extent as in Great Britain ; and, as a conse- Sobieski
quence, the skill of our chemists has been specially directed
to its improved and economical production with so much
success that, now the excise restrictions have left the soap-
maker unfettered, we are enabled to produce all the really
useful kinds, not only much cheaper, but also better, than
the manufacturers of other countries; while in the orna¬
mental varieties we beat our neighbours in cheapness, and
are rapidly approaching them in elegance of production.
The rapidity with which this branch of industry has de¬
veloped in this country is truly marvellous. In the first
year of the present century the consumption of soap was
52,947,037 lb., but in 1850 it had reached the enormous
quantity of 197,632,280 lb. This increase during the half
century, viewed in relation to the increase in population, is
quite as remarkable. In 1801 the quantity gave 4*84 lb.
to each person, while that in 1850 gave 9‘71 lb. It must
not, however, be assumed from these facts that the personal
use of soap had doubled, as a very great proportion of the
increased consumption has been due to the extension of
our manufactures in which soap is used, and to the origina¬
tion of new branches of industry in which it is required.
The quantity of soap at present made in Great Britain
cannot be ascertained with certainty, as the duty is now
removed, and we have no excise returns; but the quan¬
tity is annually increasing to a great extent. Our exports
alone amounted last year (1858) to 12,500 tons, the great¬
est portion of which was sent to our colonies. The States
of South and Central America also received large quan¬
tities ; the rest found its way to Austria, Italy, Sardinia,
Turkey, Java, China, and Western Africa. (t. c. a.)
SOBIESKI, John. See Poland.
SOCAGE, in its most general and extensive significa¬
tion, denotes a tenure by any certain and determinate
service ; and in this sense it is by our ancient writers
constantly put in opposition to chivalry or knight-service,
where the tenure was precarious and uncertain. The ser¬
vice must therefore be certain, in order to denominate it
socage, as to hold by fealty and twenty shillings rent; or,
by homage, fealty, and twenty shillings rent; or, by homage
and fealty without rent; or, by fealty and certain corporal
service, as ploughing the lord’s land for three days; or, by
fealty only without any other service; for all these are
tenures in socage. Socage is of two sorts: jfree-socage,
where the services are not only certain but honourable;
and villein socage, where the services, though certain, are
of a baser nature. Such as hold by the former tenure are
called, in Glanville and other subsequent authors, by the
name of liheri sokemanni, or tenants in free-socage. The
word is derived from the Saxon appellation soc, which sig¬
nifies liberty or privilege, and, being joined to an usual
termination, it forms socage, in Latin socagium, signifying
a free or privileged tenure. It seems probable that the
socage-tenures were the relics of Saxon liberty; retained
by such persons as had neither forfeited them to the king,
nor been obliged to exchange their tenure for the more
honourable, as it was called, but at the same time more
burthensome, tenure of knight-service. This is peculiarly
remarkable in the tenure which prevails in Kent, called
gavelkind, which is generally acknowledged to be a species of
socage-tenure; and its preservation from the innovations of
the Norman conqueror is a fact universally known. And
those who thus preserved their liberties were said to hold
in free and common socage.
SOCIETY, as generally understood, is an association
of individuals for the promotion of science, literature, or
the arts. Under the head Academy a detailed account
is given of the principal institutions bearing that name,
both in the United Kingdom and on the continent;
and it only remains to present a tabular view of the more
important societies of the United Kingdom.
368
s o c
S 0 c
Society
Islands
II
Socinus,
Lselius.
Tabular View of the more important Societies of the United Kingdom.
Socinus,
Faustus.
Place of Meeting and Name.
Annual Sub¬
scription.
London.—Archaeological Institute of Gt,
Britain 
Architectural Association 
Architectural Museum 
Art-Union of London 
Arundel Society  
British Archaeological Association 
British Association for the Advance- 1
mentof Science (Perambulatory)... J
British Institution for the Fine Arts 
Cambrian Archaeological Association...,
Camden Society  
Chemical Society 
Chatham Society 
Entomological Society 
Geological Society of London 
Graphic Society 
Hakluyt Society 
Horticultural Society of London 
Institute of Actuaries 
Institution of Civil Engineers 
Linnaean Society 
Medical Society of London 
Microscopical Society 
Middlesex Archaeological Society 
Numismatic Society 
Parker Society 
Ray Society 
Royal Academy of Arts 
Royal Society 
Royal Asiatic Society of Great Bri- 1
tain and Ireland J
Royal Astronomical Society 
Royal Botanic Society of London 
Royal Geographical Society of London..
Royal Institute of British Architects 
Royal Institution of Great Britain 
Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society..
Royal Polytechnic Institution 
Royal Society of Literature of the U.K.
Social Science Association(Perambul.)...
Society of Arts 
Society of Antiquaries of London 
Society of Painters in Water-Col. (Old)
Society of Painters in Water-Col. (New)
£ s.
1 1
0 12
1 1
10 0
3 0
1 0
0 0
0 0
0 0
1 0
3 0
0 0
1 0
1 0
0 10 0
1 10 0
110
110
None
4 0 0
3 3 0
0 0
2 0
5
3
2
2
1
o
2
None
None
Date of
Foun¬
dation.
Year.
1843
1842
1853
1837
1849
1843
1831
1805
1846
1838
1841
1843
1833
1807
1833
1846
1804
1848
1818
1788
1773
1839
1855
1837
1840
1844
1768
1634
1823
1820
1839
1830
1834
1800
1805
1838
1823
1857
1745
1717
1804
1834
Place of Meeting and Name.
London.—Statistical Society 
Surrey Archaeological Society 
Sydenham Society 
United Service Institution 
Zoological Society of London 
Oxford.— Architectural Society of Oxford..
Ashmolean Society  
Cambridge.—Cambridge Philosophical Soc.
Cambridge Antiquarian Society 
Cambridge Architectural Society 
Edinburgh.—Royal Society of Edinburgh.
Royal Scottish Society of Arts  
Royal Physical Society of Edinburgh....
Royal Inst, for the Fine Arts in Scotland
Royal Scottish Academy of Painting, &c
Royal Association for the Fine Arts 
Harveian Society   
Medico-Chirurgical Society  
Educational Institute of Scotland 
Highland and Agricultural Society 
Architectural Institute of Scotland 
Juridical Society of Edinburgh 
Botanical Society 
Caledonian Horticultural Society 
Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 
Edinburgh Philosophical Institution 
Glasgow.—Maitland Club 
Philosophical Society of Glasgow 
Aberdeen.—Spalding Club 
Dublin.—Royal Dublin Society 
Royal Irish Academy 
Royal Hibernian Academy 
Royal Institute of the Architects of )
Ireland J
Royal Zoological Society of Ireland 
Geological Society of Dublin 
Dublin Natural History Society 
Dublin Statistical Society 
Irish Archaeological and Celtic Society..
Royal Agricultural Society of Ire- 1
land  ]
Belfast.—Chemico-Agricultural Society i
of Ulster J
Belfast Natural History and Philoso-)
phical Society j
Annual Sub¬
scription.
£ s. d
2 2 0
0 10 0
110
0 10 0
3 0 0
1 1
1 1
1 1
1 1
0 10
3 3
1 1
0 5
None
None
1
5
5
5
3
1
1
0 12
1 1
1 1
1 1
3 3
0 15 0
110
2 2 0
2 2 0
None
1 11 6
10 0
10 0
10 0
0 10 0
10 0
10 0
110
110
Date of
Foun¬
dation .
Year.
1834
1854
1843
1830
1826
1839
1828
1819
1839
1847
1739
1821
1771
1819
1826
1833
1782
1821
1847
1784
1850
1773
1836
1809
1780
1846
1828
1802
1839
1731
1785
1823
1839
1831
1832
1838
1847
1854
1841
1845
1821
SOCIETY ISLANDS. See Polynesia.
SOCINUS, L^elius, the founder of the sect of the
Socinians, was born of an illustrious house at Sienna in
Tuscany in 1525. Being designed by his father for the
family profession of the law, he began very early to search
for the foundation of that science in the word of God, and
by that study discovered that the Romish religion taught
many things contrary to revelation. Being desirous of
penetrating farther into the true sense of the scriptures,
he studied Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic. In 1548 he
left Italy, to go and converse with the Protestants, and
spent four years in travelling through France, England,
the Netherlands, Germany, and Poland, and at length set¬
tled at Zurich. He by this means became acquainted with
the most learned men of his time; but as he discovered
to them his doubts, he was greatly suspected of heresy.
Bullinger took a great interest in him; and Calvin, who
had repeatedly broken off correspondence with him, could
not forbear renewing it, and giving him a friendly warning
regarding his doubts on the subject of the resurrection,
baptism, the Trinity, &c. “ And in truth,” says Calvin (see
his Letters, 1551, translated at Edinburgh, 1856), “ I am
very greatly grieved that the fine talents with which God
has endowed you should be occupied, not only with what
is vain and fruitless, but that they should also be injured by
pernicious fancies. What I warned you of long ago, I
must again seriously repeat, that unless you correct in time
this itching after investigation, it is to be feared you will
bring upon yourself severe suffering.” The fate of Servetus,
the following year, completed the effect of this letter, and
henceforward he maintained a dignified silence in his re¬
sort at Zurich. He, however, conducted himself with such
propriety, that he lived among the capital enemies of his
opinions without receiving the least injury. He met with
some disciples, who heard his instructions with respect:
these were Italians who had left their native country on
account of religion, and wandered about in Germany and
Poland. He communicated likewise his sentiments to his
relations by his writings, which he caused to be conveyed
to them at Sienna. He died at Zurich in 1562, aged
37 years. Those who were of sentiments opposite to his,
and were personally acquainted with him, confess that
his outward behaviour was blameless. Illgen, in his Vita
Lcelii Socini, attributes to him the work published on
occasion of the death of Servetus, entitled Martini Bellii
Farrago de Hcereticis, 1553. This book has likewise been
ascribed to Castalio. L. Socinus also wrote Paraphrasis
in Initium Evangelii S. Johannis, scripta in 1561.
Socinus, Faustus, nephew of the preceding, and prin¬
cipal founder of the Socinian sect, was born at Sienna in
1539. The letters which his uncle Lselius wrote to his re¬
lations, and which infused into them many seeds of heresy,
S 0 c
Socrates, made an impression upon him; so that, knowing himself
not innocent, he fled as well as the rest when the Inquisi¬
tion began to persecute that family. He was at Lyon when
he heard of his uncle’s death, and he departed immediately
to take possession of his writings. He returned to Tus¬
cany ; and made himself so agreeable to the grand duke,
that the charms which he found in that court, and the
honourable posts which he filled there, hindered him for
twelve years from remembering that he had been consid¬
ered as the person who was to put the last hand to the
system of divinity, of which his uncle Lselius had made a
rough draught. At last he went into Germany in 1574,
and paid no regard to the grand duke’s advices to return.
He stayed three years at Basel, and there studied divinity;
and having adopted a set of principles very different from
the system of Protestants, he resolved to maintain and pro¬
pagate them; for which purpose he wrote a treatise De lesu
Christo Servatore. In 1579 Socinus retired into Poland,
and desired to be admitted into the communion of the
Unitarians ; but as he differed from them on some points,
on which he refused to be silent, he met with a repulse.
He did not, however, cease to write in defence of their
churches against those who attacked them. At length his
book against James Palaeologus furnished his enemies with
a pretence to exasperate the King of Poland against him;
but though the mere reading of it was sufficient to refute
his accusers, Socinus thought proper to leave Cracow, after
having resided there four years. He then lived under the
protection of several Polish lords, and married a lady of a
good family; but her death, which happened in 1587, so
deeply afflicted him as to injure his health; and to complete
his sorrow^, he was deprived of his patrimony by the death
of Francis de’ Medici, Great Duke of Florence. The con¬
solation which he found in seeing his sentiments at last
approved of by several ministers was greatly interrupted in
1598; for he met with a thousand insults at Cracow, and
was with great difficulty saved from the hands of the rabble.
His house was plundered, and he lost his goods; but this
loss was not so uneasy to him as that of some manuscripts,
which he extremely regretted. To deliver himself from
such dangers, he retired to a village about nine miles distant
from Cracow, where he spent the remainder of his days at
the house of Abranam Blonski, a Polish gentleman, where
he died in 1604. All Faustus Socinus’s works are con¬
tained in the first two volumes of the great collection en¬
titled Bibliotheca Fratrum Polonorum.
The followers of the Socini were called Socinians. They
maintain—“ That Jesus Christ was a mere man, who had
no existence before he was conceived by the Virgin Mary;
that the Holy Ghost is no distinct person, but that the
Father is truly and properly God. They own that the
S 0 C 369
name of God is given in the Holy Scriptures to Jesus Socoausco
Christ; but contend that it is only a deputed title, which, II
however, invests him with an absolute authority over all Socrates-
created beings, and renders him an object of worship to ^**^^*^
men and angels. They deny the doctrines of satisfac¬
tion and imputed righteousness; and say that Christ only
preached the truth to mankind, set before them in him¬
self an example of heroic virtue, and sealed his doctrines
with his blood. Original sin and absolute predestination,
they esteem scholastic chimeras. They likewise maintain
the sleep of the soul, which they say becomes insensible at
death, and is raised again with the body at the resurrection,
when the good shall be established in the possession of
eternal felicity, while the wicked shall be consigned to a
fire that will not torment them eternally, but for a certain
duration in proportion to their demerits.”
SOCONUSCO, a town of Mexico, in the department
of Chiapas, 46 miles S.W. of Ciudad-Real. It is the capital
of a district, about 120 miles long by 40 broad, which for¬
merly belonged to Guatemala; but was seized by Mexico
in 1843, in spite of a protest on the part of Guatemala.
It forms the southern part of Chiapas, and has a seaport in
the Pacific.
SOCORRO, a town of New Granada, capital of a pro¬
vince in the department of Boyaca, 65 miles S.W. of Pam¬
plona. Though containing some good houses, it is for the
most part ill-built and dirty. Cotton cloth and straw hats
are made here; and a considerable trade is carried on.
Pop. 12,000.
SOCOTRA, an island in the Indian Ocean, about 150
miles E. of Cape Guardafui, the eastern extremity of
Africa, and 220 S.S.E. of Ras-Fartak in Arabia. N. Lat.
12.39.; E* Long. 54. 1. Its length from E. to W. is
about 70 miles, its average breadth 15, and its area about
1000 square miles. The centre of the island consists of a
table-land, from 700 to 800 feet high, on the north and
south of which there are tracts of lowland along the coast.
Gn the north edge of the table-land rises a ridge of granitic
mountains, having a general height of 3000 feet, and several
peaks rising as high as 5000. The rest of the table-land
is slightly undulating, forming broad valleys stretching
north and south. The coasts of the island are generally ab¬
rupt, and in some places lofty. A few perennial rivulets,
and a number that are dry in summer, water the land. The
climate is temperate, and the soil productive: aloes and
the gum of the dragon’s-blood tree, both of excellent qua¬
lity, are the chief commercial products; but dates, tamarinds,
tobacco, &c., are also raised. On the extensive pastures,
oxen, sheep, and goats are reared. Some trade is carried
on with Muscat; and the island is subject to the Imam of
that town. Population estimated at 4000;
SOOEATES.
The name of Socrates is familiar to every one among
his earliest classical recollections. Who has not heard
of the Athenian sage, the great moralist of heathenism,
and his persecution and constancy even to death ? There
is no name indeed which stands forth more conspicuously
in the history of the philosophy, or of the religion, or
of the general civilisation of the ancient world. It marks
a distinct era in the history of the human race. The char¬
acter of a great period in the history of man is concentrated,
m fact, in the life and teaching of this extraordinary indi¬
vidual ; and his name accordingly has descended to us with
nil the importance of the crisis itself at which he flourished ;
recommended as it is to our affection and admiration, not
so much by the characteristics of his personality, as by the
tradition of his influence and authority.
For when we come to consider his particular biography,
YOL. xx.
we find our attention arrested by little that belongs merely
to the individual. We read of a long life passed for the
most part in uniform tenor within the walls of his native
Athens; and, until we come to its tragical close, scarcely
distinguished in point of intellect from that of the mass of
his contemporaries. When, again, we ask for writings from
which, as from the proper mirror of the philosopher’s mind,
we may collect some express lineaments of his character
and teaching, we find nothing even on this ground on which
our curiosity can fasten ; so little have we derived that in¬
terest which the mention of Socrates now awakens from
himself immediately; and so much, on the other hand, are
we indebted for our acquaintance with this philosopher to
a popular feeling preserving and handing down to us the
name which represents the thought and character of an age.
The conjuncture of events at the time of Socrates was
3 A
SOCRATES.
370
Socrates, peculiarly favourable to the development of such a charac-
< y.f ter. Socrates, born at Athens in the year 469 or 470 b.c.
grew up to manhood during those years when Athens,
standing on the proud eminence of her victories of Mara¬
thon and Salamis, was consolidating her power as a sove¬
reign state and seat of empire. In the course of the fifty
years which intervened between her triumphant resistance
to the Persian invasion and the commencement of the Pe¬
loponnesian war, Athens, like Rome in her struggle with
her Italian neighbours, had gradually converted her allies
in the islands and on the coasts of Asia Minor and Thrace
into dependent subjects and tributaries. But Athens had
not, like Rome, the prudence to combine these scattered
members of her empire, elements of discord and trouble as
much as of strength to the sovereign state, by the free
communication of the rights of citizenship. Nor indeed
could this wise expedient have availed in the case of
Athens as in that of Rome. For the states over which
the empire of Athens extended were either independent
governments reluctantly submitting to her yoke, or the
weak dependencies of a rival power, and indisposed to
acknowledge the sovereignty of Athens but so long as
that power wanted the vigour and the enterprize to head
a coalition against the common oppressor. There were
thus in the very constitution of the Athenian empire,
materials of jealousy and disunion, which no line of con¬
duct but the impolitic one of surrendering an arbitrary
rule into the hands of the people who had groaned un¬
der it, could long have kept from explosion. And, in
fact, it was not the policy of Athens (masterly as that
policy was under the hands of her great leaders) which
sustained her empire for more than fifty years, so much as
the inertness of her great rival, Lacedaemon, and the diffi¬
culty of bringing the several grievances of the subject-
states to bear on some decisive point, capable of influen¬
cing the movement of the whole in a strenuous concerted
effort of resistance. At length we see this effort in the
outbreak of the Peloponnesian war, as well as the difficulty
of it in the complicated diplomacy by which that great
movement was preceded, and in the reluctance of Lace¬
daemon to bring home to herself the necessity of exertion.
But, whilst Athens was thus aggrandizing herself against
a day of retribution from the insulted states of Greece, she
enjoyed the sunshine of her day of empire, in the brilliant
assemblage, which she then witnessed within her walls, of
the great, and the learned, and the eloquent, from all parts
of Greece.1 While her arms and her enterprize were set¬
ting foot on every sea and land, her attractiveness as a home
of genius and civilization, was evidenced in the number of
strangers frequenting her porticoes, and groves, and thea¬
tres, and temples, and the houses of her nobles. During
thirty years of this period of glory, the philosopher Anaxa¬
goras was employed in propagating there the doctrines of
the Ionic school, honoured by the patronage of her great
men, and the revered master of her choicest spirits in the
newly-acquired taste for philosophical inquiry. During,
also, a considerable portion of the same period, the sophist
Prodicus was domesticated within her walls, surrounded
by crowds of admiring pupils from the highest ranks of her
citizens, eagerly catching the inspiration of that rhetori¬
cal ability for which he was famed. Occasionally, too,
amongst the distinguished visitors of the city, might be seen
other illustrious professors of the day, also familiarly known Socrates,
by the name of sophists, then a complimentary designa- Wp^v^-
tion, Protagoras of Abdera, Gorgias of Leontium, Hippi-
as of Elis,—drawn there by the demand for that literary
merchandize, of which they claimed the monopoly. There
also were now collected, as in a school of all arts, the great
masters of the drama, of sculpture, and painting, and music,
and the gymnastic exercises. So that Athens, at this time,
contained within her own bosom abundant resources for
the enlargement of the mind, whether in the eminent men
who formed her society, in the lectures and conversation
of the professors of science, or in noble works, the speci¬
mens and examples of wffiat genius could effect. Athens
contained, also, doubtless, much to enervate and corrupt
the moral judgment, whilst she presented every thing to
exalt the imagination and refine the taste. Her political
institutions, well-balanced as they had been left by Solon,
were now violently disturbed. In the course of these years
of imperial greatness and prosperity, they received a large
infusion of that licentious spirit, which the naval successes
of the Athenians had engendered in the lower order of the
citizens,2 and the flattery of successive demagogues had
fostered and diffused through the whole of the state. Now,
also, faction divided the ties of family and kindred, and
formed associations of the people for every lawless pur¬
pose of private ambition and cupidity. Their highest and
purest court,—one principal anchor of the state, according
to the intention of their great legislator,3—the Areopagus,
was mutilated in its powers. And whilst numerous courts
of law, thronged by their hundreds of judges, chosen by lot
from the whole body of citizens, were constantly open,4 and
an idle populace were encouraged, by pay from the public
treasury, to attend on the business of these courts, the func¬
tions of the legislative and deliberative bodies were virtu¬
ally suspended. The peremptory power of these judicial
committees, in which the people at large felt and exercised
a despotic authority, became the real executive of the state.
Then came into intense activity the vile system of syco¬
phancy,—a system, under which the life and property of the
wealthy were at the mercy of every needy adventurer who
could speak to the passions of the people, and earn a liveli¬
hood for himself by a career of successful prosecutions.
Nor was public corruption unattended by its usual evils
of private luxury and debauchery. At this time too, there
might be observed in the heart of a city which prided itself
on its pious feeling,5 and amidst the frequency and splendour
of festivals and external rituals of religion,6 a profane scepti¬
cism with regard to the fundamental principles of religion
and morality. A spirit of self-conceit and of presumption
of knowledge, already natural to the Athenians, had now
widely spread among the people; and every one was by turns
dogmatist or sceptic,—according as it was his own opinion
that he asserted,—or as he might display his ingenuity in
questioning some received principle, or disputing some opi¬
nion proposed by another.
Add to these circumstances, the effect of a large slave
population, the degraded ministers to the wants and the
wealth of an insolent body of citizens, and of a number of
resident foreigners engaged in carrying on the manufactures
and trade of the city, paying a tax for their protection, and
contributing to the military strength of the state, though
excluded from its franchise. The slave, indeed, and the
1 Isocrat. Panegyr. Kai to 7r\rj0o$ rcov d(j)iKvovfj.ivcov cos rjfxas toctovtou ecrriv, k.t.X. p. 59.
* Aristot. Polit. ii. 9, Tr?s vavapxLas yap eu tols M^Stfcou o brjpos dirios yevopevos ecjopovijparMT], k.t.X.
3 Plutarch. Solon, 19, oiopevos ini 8val fiovXais coanep dyavpais oppdvcrav, rjTTov iv adXco Tr)v ttoXiv ’icrecriai, k.t.X. Tom. i. p-
352, ed. Reiske.
4 Aristoph. Nub. 208, aifie pcv Adrjvai. 2r. rl crii Xeyeis ; oi neidopai, inn biKanras ovx opco KaOppivovs.
5 Soph. (Ed. Col. 1006, ii ris yrj ffeovs iniaraTCU ripdis creftifeiv, fide rovS vnepcfiepei.
6 Xenophon, in his Memorabilia, i. c. 4, gives an instance in Aristodemus of one who not only had a contempt for all religion, but even
derided those who concerned themselves with it.
J
SOCRATES. 371
Socrates, foreigner, lived more happily at Athens than at Lacedae-
mon, or perhaps any other city of Greece, especially during
a time of war, when their services were needful to the
state.1 Slavery, therefore, acted probably less injuriously
on the character of the Athenian master, than it did else¬
where in Greece. It was tempered by the social humour
of the people. But the facility thus afforded to the citi¬
zens of living in indolence and ease, and abandoning all do¬
mestic employment for the excitement of the public assem¬
blies, and the courts, and the spectacles, naturally induced
a neglect of the private and domestic duties. There is
reason to believe, that whilst the Athenians appeared in the
face of the world the most light-hearted of men, they were
secretly unhappy in their homes; living in listlessness from
day to day on the alms of their public pay; many of them
reduced from affluence to poverty through the loss of lands
and property by the ravages and pressure of war, and yet
unable or unwilling to use the necessary exertions to relieve
themselves from their distress. It is evidently no singular in¬
stance which Xenophon has given of this state of things at
Athens, when he tells us of Aristarchus complaining
to Socrates of the number of poor female relatives who,
from losses in the course of the Peloponnesian war, were
thrown on him for support. The difficulty which Aristar¬
chus felt, was, that he could not expect persons who were
free-born and his own kindred, to undertake any manual la¬
bour, so as to assist in maintaining themselves. Happily,
however, he adopts the friendly suggestion of Socrates, and
makes the experiment of setting them actively to work.
The experiment succeeds; and thus contentment and cheer¬
fulness are introduced to a home where before all was gloom
and mutual suspicion.2 *
In the meantime, a great number of mechanics and trades¬
men had risen to wealth and importance, in consequence of
the demand for every species of labour and trade, resulting
from the multiplied population of the city and its numerous
foreign dependencies and connexions, and, in particular,
from the magnificent public works carried on during the ad¬
ministration of Pericles. All this while, Athens was be¬
coming more and more a mercantile community, in the
midst of strong aristocratic prejudices, still surviving, and
rendered, indeed, more intense by the opposition growing
up around them. In many instances, the older families
would be declining in wealth, exhausted by the burthens of
the state or the extravagance of individual expenditure;
whilst new' families, the creations of successful trade and
enterprize, would be obtaining influence by the force of
their wealth, and encroaching on the privileged ground hi¬
therto occupied only by right of birth. It may be easily
conceived, therefore, that the mass of the society of the city
would be now all fermentation and restlessness; the one
class pushing their interests and their claims to equality
founded on their personal title, whilst the other obstinate¬
ly clung to the exclusiveness and the pride of hereditary
right.
But we shall best judge of the distempered state of the
social atmosphere of Athens, by adverting to the character
of female society as it existed there. It has often been re¬
marked, as the glory of modern and Christian civilization,
that it has restored woman to her due place in the scale of
social importance, and thus most effectually chastened and
elevated the general intercourse of human life. In a country
so essentially social as Greece, and especially at Athens, it
was practically impossible toimpose on the women the absolute
seclusion of eastern despotism. Still it was even at Athens con- Socrates,
sidered the rule of propriety, that the wives and daughters
of citizens should live in the strict privacy of their homes,
and be known and noticed as little as possible among the
other sex, even for their virtues.5 But whilst the vir¬
tuous matron was excluded from the social circles, the place
which she should have held in Athenian society was fill¬
ed by other females, strangers to family ties, and attract¬
ed to Athens by the licentiousness and wealth of an im¬
perial city. The union of high intellectual endowments,
and a masculine dignity of understanding, in some distin¬
guished individuals of this class, with the graces of female
loveliness, appealed with a powerful interest to the sensual
elegance of Grecian taste. We find, accordingly, at Athens,
at this time, forming, as it were, the female court of the
sovereign people, the Milesian Aspasia, and others of less
note, living in the profession of a scandalous course of
life, not only without shame, but even in the enjoyment of
public respect. It was not the general of the common¬
wealth only that felt the spell of the charms of Aspasia, but
grave philosophers resorted to her house; and even the
ladies of private families, in violation of the restrictions of
custom, were taken there by their friends; all eager to hear
those interesting conversations, and lectures in political
and rhetorical science for which she was famed.4 We may
judge how deeply corrupted must have been the standard
of public opinion in Greece, when female profligacy could
thus veil itself from the eye of moral observation, under
the graces of splendid accomplishments of mind and per¬
son. So thoroughly had refinement of intellectual taste
and of manners, together with the grossest impurity of
morals, pervaded the whole society of Athens, that even
those who were elevated above the world around them in
talents, and strength of character, and kindliness of disposi¬
tion, as Socrates was, imbibed in some measure the poison
of the infected atmosphere which they breathed.
Such, then, was that state of things in which Socrates
was trained, and which will greatly account to us for that
peculiar form which the character of his philosophical teach¬
ing exhibits. For he was ever an Athenian instructing
Athenians. He spoke as one fully conversant with the habits
of thought and action of his countrymen ; as knowing what
kind of instruction they most needed, and by what mode of
address he might best win their attention. We might ex¬
pect, therefore, to see in him some leading traits of the
Athenian civilization of his time ; a teaching, admirable in¬
deed in its main features, but bearing, at the same time,
some marks of that corrupt state of society which called it
forth, and to which it was immediately addressed.
The son of Sophroniscus a sculptor, and Phaenarete a
midwife, and himself brought up in his father’s art, he yet
enjoyed those advantages of mental culture and social re¬
finement which were common to every citizen of the de¬
mocratic Athens. The meanness of his birth and his po¬
verty, much as high birth and wealth were esteemed there,
would not exclude him from familiar intercourse with per¬
sons of the highest rank and consideration in the state.
Nor, indeed, could the advantages of education be restrict¬
ed to a privileged few, where every one lived in public,
and where knowledge was for the most part acquired and
communicated by conversation and oral discussion.
If) in the general relaxation of discipline at Athens, the
citizen was no longer obliged to submit himself to a prescribed
course of education under the eye of the state, and it was
1 Aristoph. Nub. 5, arruXoio SfjT, ci 7roAe/xe, ttoXXwi' owsko oti ov8e Ko'kd(rcu e^eari /not tovs oIkctcis.
2 The story is beautifully told by Xenophon in his simple manner in the Memorabilia, book ii. chapter 7. See also Mem. ii. 8.
^ Thucyd. ii. 45, rf/j re yap vnapxovcrrjs (jjvaecos pt) ^e/poat yevetrOai iipiv peydXrj jj 86ga, /eat J/y av in iXd^unou dpeTrjs Trip! *j
i/soyov ev toTs d/3 treat /cXe'os rj.
Plato, Menex—Xenoph. Mem. ii. 6.—Plutarch. Pericles. 24. Kat yap SooKpdrrjs ianv ore /terd rd>v yvcopipaiv icpolra. xat rds
yvyuucas atcpoacropevas ol crvvrj&eis ijyov d>s uiittjv, x.r.X. Tom. i. p. 638, Iteiske.
SOCRATES.
372
Socrates, left to each person to avail himself, or not, of the sources cf
instruction presented in the intellectual society of the city,
Socrates was not a person to neglect the advantages placed
in his way. Money he had not, to pay to the Sophists, the
great masters of his day. But he had from childhood an
inquisitive mind. He felt that he was thrown on his own
resources of thought, and that he must be his own master
in the art of education. And to this great object he ap¬
pears to have bent, from the earliest time, all the powers of
his energetic mind, making it his constant employment to
inquire from every one,1 and collect on every occasion, some
hint towards the right prosecution of it. We may picture
to ourselves the young Socrates, resembling the Socrates of
mature life, freely entering into conversation with all to
whom he had access; feeling and acknowledging his own
ignorance; listening attentively to all that he beard; weigh¬
ing and discussing it in his own mind with patience and
acuteness; and not resting until he had traced it out in all
its bearings to the utmost of his power. Thus would he
gradually form and strengthen that faculty of observation,
and that analytical acumen for which he was afterwards so
eminently distinguished.
Nor has Plato improbably put a prophecy of his future
eminence in the mouth of one of the great masters of the
day, when he makes Protagoras say of him, with the self-
complacency of the man of established reputation: “For
my part, Socrates, I commend your spirit, and the method
of your reasoning; for whilst in other points I am no bad
sort of person, as I think, I am the farthest from being an
envious one. For concerning you in particular, 1 have al¬
ready observed to many, that of all I meet, I admire you by
far the most; of those of your own age, even to the extreme;
and I say too, I should not be astonished if you were to
turn out a man of celebrity for philosophy.”2 To the same
effect is the story, that his father, being at a loss how to
educate him, consulted the Delphic oracle, and was ad¬
vised to leave him entirely to his own bent, inasmuch as
he had a director in himself superior to a thousand teachers.3
The simple interpretation of what is here thrown into the
form of marvel probably is, that he gave, even when a child,
striking indications of a devotedness to those studies which
became the business of his manhood.
The notice of a wealthy individual of Athens, the ex¬
cellent Crito. appears to have been early attracted to So¬
crates. Crito was of about the same age as Socrates;4 and
an attachment to the pursuit of philosophy, and an ad¬
miration of the character of Socrates, naturally led to
that intimacy which he now commenced with the young
philosopher, and steadily maintained through his subse¬
quent life. Through him Socrates was relieved from the
necessity of earning his livelihood by the profession of a
sculptor; or, as Laertius expresses it, “was raised from
the workshop.”5 Sculpture, indeed, was in high honour
at Athens, especially at this time. For Phidias, enjoy¬
ing the protection of Pericles, was now adorning the city
with the immortal productions of his own chisel, as well as
other noble works of art executed under his taste and di¬
rection. But to follow up the profession with success, re¬
quired a devotion of mind and hand that must preclude the
opportunities indispensable for the moral student. And
though, for a time, Socrates worked at the art,—and with
success, if a statue of the Graces in the citadel of Athens,
attributed to him, were really his workmanship ;6—we may
imagine how distasteful the occupation, however intellec¬
tual in itself, must have been to a mind, so eager for ob¬
servation on living man, so intent on mental and moral phe¬
nomena, as that of Socrates ; and how gladly he would ex¬
change the labour of his paternal art for that philosophic Socrates,
leisure which the friendship of Crito held out to him.
The world of that day reproached the philosophers
with servility, taunting them with being ever seen at the
“ gates of the rich.” In some instances, the reproach may
have been just. But in general, the fact was the reverse.
Their society rather was courted by the great and wealthy,
who were proud of the reputation of being patrons of phi¬
losophy. To Socrates, indeed, the patronage of a man
of wealth would be peculiarly acceptable, not so much for
the means of subsistence, about which he was absolutely
thoughtless and indifferent, as for the society itself to which
he would thus be introduced, and the opportunity of carry¬
ing on his researches into philosophy, both by books and
by the oral instructions of its living professors. To him it
would be the very means by which he would enlarge his
field of moral observation. The social evenings of Athens
were the natural sequences of the mornings of the agora,
and the courts, and the council, and the assembly. They
prolonged in festive conversation that strife of words and
competition of argument, which had been begun in the busy
and serious discussions of the morning, and of which the
last murmurs had scarcely died away on the ear of the as¬
sembled guests. For Athenian life was a life of constant
excitement. What Demosthenes observed an hundred
years afterwards, and an apostle four hundred years later still,
—that the Athenians did nothing but go about and ask the
news of the day,—was a characteristic of the people already
strongly developed at this period of their history. Socrates,
who, in his own person, gave a philosophical cast to this inqui¬
sitive spirit, would be peculiarly interested by such opportu¬
nities of exercising it as were presented in the animated
encounters of the symposium. There he would see human
nature displayed in some of its most striking forms. There he
would meet the citizen full of years and honours, experienced
in the arts of government and diplomacy, and in the service
of the state by land and sea; the poet flushed with his vic¬
tories in the dramatic contest; the sophist armed at all
points for the display; the philosopher expounding his theo¬
ries; the orator, the idol of the people in his day; the courtly
patron of literature ; and a circle of young men, the flower
of the highest rank in the state; each bearing his part in
the free and lively interchange of thought, emulously pro¬
voking one another to discussion, and contending for the
mastery in the conflict of debate.
By such society Socrates would be effectually prepared for
that active enterprize of philosophy, which formed the whole
engagement of his life. In the meagre information handed
down to us respecting the details of his history, we are not
able to ascertain at what precise period of life he began
his career of public teaching, or at least attracted notice as
the philosopher of Athens. The transition would probably be
gradual, from the youthful inquirer, to the mature and expert
teacher of others. This transition would be the less percep¬
tible in the case of Socrates, from the circumstance, that he
never professed to teach, even when he was most actively em¬
ployed in teaching; but still, at the last, as he had done from
the first, merely to inquire? For his part, he disdained the
profession of philosophy. He was disgusted with the vain
pretension advanced by the Sophists, of being masters of
every science, and capable of imparting instruction on any
given subject. He accordingly set out with the antagonist posi¬
tion, that he knew nothing: that his only wisdom, if he possessed
any beyond other men, consisted inhisbeing owareof his real
ignorance, whilst others ignorantly presumed on the posses¬
sion of a knowledge which they had not. His teaching,
therefore, was only a continuation of the process of educa-
1 Plato, Laches, p. 186, c., eya fxev ovv, k.t.\. p. 176, Bip. ed. 2 Plato, Protag. Op. iii. p. 193. * Plutarch, de Gen. Socr.
4 Plato, Apol. p. 78, tjxos rjXiKiarrjs- 8 Diog. Laert. in vit. ii. 5.
5 Xenoph. Mem. i. 2, oiiSe TrwTrore iTreV^fro dibacwaXos tivai tovtov. 1 Diog. Laert. ii. 5. Pausanias, i. 22; ix 35.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, tion of his own mind, by extending it to the minds of
others. He was fond of describing it as an examination or
scrutiny of the mind; a method of finding out the real con¬
dition of each mind, and so of preparing it for the due exer¬
cise of its powers in the practical emergencies of human life.
He saw that the evils oflife arose, in great part, from the wrong
judgments of men,—from their mistaking their own powers,
presuming on their knowledge, and ability, and the truth of
opinions adopted without inquiry. He endeavoured then
to effect the cure of human error and unhappiness by a re¬
formation of the intellect. The first step towards this would
be taken, if men could be only divested of this vain self-con¬
fidence ; if they could be brought \.o suspect that they might be
mistaken in their judgments, and so to question themselves.
This preliminary labour was employment enough for any one
man’s life, especially in a society such as that of Athens, so
entirely infected with the sophistical leaven. Socrates wisely
confined his exertions to this simple object. He is content
to excite inquiry,—to provoke discussion,—and thus to sug¬
gest the necessity of self-discipline in order to right judgment.
He does not, like other philosophers, quit the seclusion of a
study, or the field of foreign travel, to come forth to the
world the accomplished teacher of the accumulated wisdom
of years of solitary thought and reflection. Whilst philoso¬
phizing in the agora and the streets of Athens, in the work¬
shops of the artizan, or at the banquets of the rich, he is still
employed in the work of disciplining the mind. Thus he
passes on insensibly from the education of himself to the
education of others, and it is difficult consequently, or rather
impossible, to say in his case, where the character of the
learner ends, or where that of the philosopher and teacher
begins.
Yet, entirely as Socrates disregarded all positive know¬
ledge, and threw himself on the resources of a shrewd and
extensive observation of human nature, we must not sup¬
pose that he neglected to inform himself in the existing
systems of philosophy, and the particular sciences as they
were then understood and taught. There is reason to be¬
lieve, that he had accurately studied the systems of the
early physical philosophers of the Ionic school, as well as
the moral and mathematical theories of the Pythagoreans,
and the dialectics of the school of Elea. Without suppos¬
ing him so deeply versed in the doctrines of the several
schools, as would be inferred from his exact discussions in
the dialogues of Plato, there is still ample evidence, from
the more direct account of Xenophon, that he was by no
means ignorant of them. He had doubtless read much,1 as
well as observed much, when he commenced his philosophic
mission. Xenophon indeed tells us that Socrates consider¬
ed the physical and dialectical theories of his predecessors
as unprofitable. But he takes care to add, that Socrates
was not unacquainted with these theories. And in particu¬
lar, as to the sciences of astronomy and geometry, he thought
the attention of the student wasted in investigating their
more abstruse theorems. But he was able (as Xenophon
further observes), to speak on the subjects of these sciences
also from his own knowledge of them.2
Nor are we to suppose that, whilst he had properly no
master in that line of philosophical study which he had
marked out for himself,3 he had no aid in the cultivation of
373
his mind, from the living masters of philosophy in hisday. The Socrates,
long residence of Anaxagoras at Athens, probably coincides
in time with part of the early life of Socrates.4 To him,
therefore, Socrates would naturally have access, as well aa
to Archelaus,5 his disciple, and the inheritor of his doctrines.
If he had no personal intercourse with Anaxagoras, it is at
least highly probable, from the testimony of Plato, that he
was acquainted with the famous treatise of Anaxagoras,
which contained his theory of the universe.6 And perhaps
we may distinctly trace the early and abiding influence of
the lessons of this great philosopher throughout the teach¬
ing of Socrates, in his uniform maintenance of the principle
of an all-disposing mind, the glory of the system of Anaxa¬
goras.
To the writings of Heraclitus, his attention appears to
have been drawn by the poet Euripides ; if the anecdote
be true, as related by Laertius, that on being asked by Eu¬
ripides, who had put them into his hand, what he thought
ot them, he replied, alluding to the studied obscurity
of that philosopher; “ What I understand is excellent; so
also, I suppose, is what I do not understand ; only there is
need of some Delian diver to reach the sense.”7 He had
also opportunities of conversing with Zeno the Eleatic, and
Theodorus of Cyrene ; the former eminent for his dialectical
skill, the latter the most distinguished geometrician of the
time. And though his scanty means precluded his attendance
on the professional lectures of Prodicus, the fashionable teach¬
er of rhetoric at that day at Athens, it cannot be doubted
that he would on several occasions have been among the
company assembled at the house of some wealthy citizen,
and there heard from the lips of that accomplished master
of language those elaborate oratorical displays which made
his name proverbial for wisdom.8 With the poet Euripides,
indeed, the disciple of Anaxagoras and Prodicus, and who
was his senior only by a few years, he appears to have lived
in habits of intimacy. With Euripides he would probably
often have discussed those ethical topics which the poet so
greatly delighted to transfuse into his tragic scenes, and as¬
sociate with the interest of dramatic incident. They were
in fact brother-labourers in the same cause, though in dif¬
ferent ways. For whilst Euripides endeavoured to work a
reformation of his countrymen, by didactic addresses insi¬
nuated through their feelings, amidst the interest of tragic
story, Socrates appealed at once to their understandings,
and amidst the business or pastime of real life. The envy
of contemporaries was prone to attribute the excellence of
the poet in some of his dramatic efforts, to the aid of his
philosopher-friend.9 The truth probably is, that the benefit
of their intercourse was mutual; that, whilst the poet’s ima¬
gination was informed and chastened by the shrewd and
severe wisdom of the philosopher, the philosopher also, ever
intent on his calling, would enlarge his mind with riches
drawn from the genius, and taste, and learning of the poet.
The co-existence of literary and philosophic elegance
with the most disgusting coarseness of moral feeling and
conduct, in the character of the Athenian courtesan,
has been already noticed. To Aspasia, the heroine of
her class, as we may call her, when we refer to her in¬
fluence over Pericles, and the encomiums of her by Plato
and others, Socrates is expressly stated to have been indebt-
1 Xenoph. Mem. i. 6. s Xenoph. Mem. iv. 7.
3 He reckons himself in Xenoph. Conviv. i. 5. among the avrovpyoi rijs <piXoao(fnds.
4 It must be admitted, however, that the chronology of the life of Anaxagoras is very doubtful.
5 Archelaus is called both a Milesian and an Athenian. The probability is that he was a Milesian, since philosophy had scarcely yet
found a home at Athens.
8 See the Phaedo, p. 97. The writings of Anaxagoras appear to have been extensively circulated. Socrates is made in Plato’s Apology
to say to Meletus, d'lei ovtovs dneipovs ypapparcov elvai, wore ovk ftdevai on r ’Avagayopov (HifiXia row K\a(op€vlov yepei rovrav toov
Xd'ycoi'. t Diog. Laert. in vit. ii. 7.
8 Plato, Meno. p. 96. 'K.iv&vvtvopev, « Mevcov, eya> re Kal <rv7 (f)dv\ot rives eivai avdpes, naiae re Topylas 6v\ hcavus nenaidevicevcu,
«at epe IIpdSiKos. P. 3S2. Bipont. 9 Aristoph. Nub. Diog. Laert. in vit. ii. 5
374 SOCRATES.
Socrates, ed for instruction in rhetoric, as also in other subjects.1
Whilst Xenophon also introduces him familiarly conversing
with Theodota, whom he describes as living in great splen¬
dour at Athens, the object of general admiration for her
personal charms, and inviting her to become his disciple,2—.
Plato leads us to believe that Socrates was himself the dis¬
ciple of another of the same class, the Mantinean Diotime,
who, among her other accomplishments, was distinguished
in particular for her skill in the art of divination.3
Instruction in music formed an important part of Athe¬
nian education. Socrates, it seems, did not neglect the op¬
portunities which the presence of the great masters of the
art in Athens afforded him of learning its principles. Con-
nus accordingly is claimed for him, as his master in music.4
Damon, another celebrated musician, though not more emi¬
nent in the science which he professed, than as a politician
and sophist, was resident at Athens during part of the admi¬
nistration of Pericles, the intimate and counsellor of that
great statesman, as well as his instructor in music.5 From
him also, we are told, Socrates received instruction in the
art. By these accounts, however, we may probably under¬
stand, not that he became a proficient in the musical art,
but that he had listened to Damon as well as to Connus,
discoursing on the subject, and studied its theories under
them, so far, at least, as music entered into the general
pursuit of philosophy.6
It should be observed, indeed, that though Socrates
strongly discouraged the presumption of knowledge in all
with whom he conversed, he did not disapprove of the acqui¬
sition of particular kinds of knowledge. He communicated
whatever he knew to every one that came in his way ; and
where he was himself unacquainted with any subject, he re¬
ferred his hearers to those who possessed the information.7
He was not in fact opposed to knowledge in itself. He was
glad to embrace it wherever it could be found. But he was
an enemy to the substitution of mere intellectual acquisi¬
tions,—and those often superficial and unreal,—for education
of the mind and character. He felt, and justly felt, that
knowledge by itself was vanity. The tendency of the age
was to ascribe value exclusively to mental acuteness and
dexterity. Ingenuity and cleverness obtained the merit and
the prize of wisdom. Plis labour was to draw his country¬
men from thinking too highly of their boasted knowledge. He
wished them to see howr greatly they overrated intellectual ac¬
quirements,—how much they had yet to learn if they would
be real proficients in wisdom.
Socrates indeed appears to have regarded philosophy in
the light of a sacred mission, to which he was specially
called, rather than of a study and exercise of the mind.
This notion of philosophy had already been exemplified by
Pythagoras and his followers. But they had realized it by
forming themselves into distinct communities or colleges ;
separating themselves from the world around, by a solemn
initiation, and the practice of an ascetic discipline. Socrates,
however, had no thought of changing the outward form of
society. He did not propose, like Pythagoras, to institute
a refuge from the pollutions and misery of the world, or
to educate a peculiar brotherhood, who should afterwards
act on the social mass. He did not address himself to the
few. His school was all Athens, or rather indeed all Greece.
Leaving society as it was, he sought to infuse a new spirit
into it, by carrying his philosophy into every department of Socrates*,
it. He therefore went about among all classes of people,
preferring none, despising none, but adapting his instruc¬
tions to every variety of condition and character. Thus did
he in truth, according to the observation commonly applied
to him from the time of Cicero, bring down philosophy from
heaven to earth; but not so much by being the first to give
a moral tone to philosophy, as by the universality and phi¬
lanthropy of his teaching. Philosophy in his hands was no
longer an exclusive and privileged profession. It no longer
spoke as from an oracular shrine, and in the language of
mystery. It now conversed wfith every man at his own
home,—submitted to be familiarly approached and viewed
without reserve,—and, instead of waiting to be formally con¬
sulted by its votaries only, volunteered to mingle in the bu¬
siness, and interests, and pleasures of every-day life.
His manner of life and of teaching is thus described by
Xenophon.8
“ He wras constantly in public. For early in the morning
he would go to the walks and the gymnasia ; and when the
agora was full, he was to be seen there ; and constantly dur¬
ing the remainder of the day, he would be wherever he
was likely to meet with the most persons ; and for the most
part he would talk, and all that would might hear him.”
The nature of his conversations is thus further reported
by the same faithful authority :
“ No one ever saw Socrates doing, or heard him say¬
ing, any thing impious or profane. For not only did
he not discourse about the nature of all things, as most
others, inquiring how, what by the sophists is called the
universe, consists, and by what laws each heavenly thing
is produced; but he would point out the folly of those
who studied such matters. And the first inquiry he
would make of them was, whether they proceeded to
such studies from thinking themselves already sufficiently
acquainted with human things; or whether they thought
they were acting becomingly in passing by human things,
and giving their attention to divine. He would wonder,
too, it was not evident to them, that it was not possible for
men to find out these matters; since even those who most
prided themselves on discoursing of them, did not agree
in opinion with each other, but were affected like madmen
in relation to one another. For of madmen, whilst some did
not fear even the fearful, others were terrified at things not
terrible; whilst some were not ashamed to say or do any
thing even before the multitude, others objected even to
going out into the world; whilst some paid no honour to
sacred things, or altars, or any other religious object, others
worshipped even stones, and common stocks, and brutes.
So of those who speculated on the nature of the universe,
whilst some thought that Being was one only, others thought
it was infinite in number; whilst some thought that all things
were in perpetual motion, others thought it impossible for
any thing to be moved; whilst some thought that all things
wereinacourse of generation and destruction, others thought
that nothing could possibly be generated or destroyed. He
would further consider respecting them thus: whether, as
the learners of human things think they shall be able to
make practical use of their knowledge for themselves and
any one else at pleasure, so also the searchers into divine
things hold, that having ascertained by what laws each thing
Xenophon, Mem. ii. 6. Ma Af, ou^, &>s nore eyd> ’Ao-jtaulas rjicovcra. ecpr/ yap, ras dya&as npopurja-rpldas, P. 101.
Phito, Menexenus, p. 235. Kai e/xoi pev ye, w Mei'e^ei/e, ovdev davpasov oico f eivai eineiv, oT rvy^dvei 8i.8dcnia\os ovcra 6v tvclw
(pavXri TvepX prjTopLKrjs, dXX' fjnep /cat dWovs ttoWovs kol dyadovs ino’npre prjropas, eva be /cat biatyepovra tcov 'EXXpvcov, Ilept/cAea
rov Savdlnirov. M. ris avrrj; rj btjXovoTi ’Aanua-lav Aeyeis ; 2. Xeyco yap ; /cat Kouvov ye rbv Mprpo^Lov. ovroi yap pot, bvo elcrt
btoaa-fcaXor 6 pev pova-LKps, rj be ppropiKps- P. 277. Bipont.
4 ^enoPk°n, Mem. iii. 12. Ahian. Var. Hist. xiii. 31. 3 piat0) Conviv. p. 201. op. t. 10. p. 227. Bipont.
e n,at°’ ^enexenus- 5 Plutarch in Pericl. op. t. i. p. 594. Reiske.
* M°g" • aert- 111 vit “■ 5‘ 15- Laertius says that Socrates learned to play on the lyre. 7 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 7.
Mem. i. 1. 10 ; also Plutarch, Utrum seni per. Resp.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, jg generated, they shall be able to produce at pleasure winds,
\ and waters, and seasons, and whatever else of the kind they
may want; or whether they have no such expectation, but
it suffices them only to know how every thing of this
kind is generated. Such, then, was his manner of speaking
about those who busied themselves with these matters. But,
for his part, he was ever discoursing about human things,
inquiring what was pious, what impious, what honourable,
what base, what just, what unjust, what sobriety, what
madness, what courage, what cowardice, what a state, what
a statesman, what a government of men, what the charac¬
ter of a governor ; and about other subjects, which, by be¬
ing known, would make men honourable and virtuous, whilst
those who were ignorant of them, would justly be called
slavish.”
Xenophon has thus fully touched the character of the teach¬
ing of Socrates in its leading points, and the nature of his con¬
stant occupation at Athens. The intermissions of military ser¬
vice appear to have been the only occasions of any variation
in this uniform course of life. No other country had any
charms for him, as no other afforded such rich opportunities
of conversing with men, and studying human nature.1 His
activity was essentialiy different from that either of his pre¬
decessors or successors in the path of philosophy. They
travelled from place to place searching for knowledge, stor¬
ing their minds with various observations, and making phi¬
losophy their formal business. Socrates, as he had no stated
school or place of audience, so he had no design of framing
any system of philosophy, or of enlarging the researches and
discoveries of former philosophers, or of pursuing knowledge
as an ultimate object. He regarded himself as called by
the voice of Deity, to undertake the reformation of men,
and especially of his fellow-citizens, as constituting his pro¬
per sphere of duty, from their corruptions of sentiment and
conduct. He stood, therefore, by the great stream of hu¬
man life wrhich was ever flowing at Athens, and watched its
course. He is said once to have visited Samos in com¬
pany with Archelaus, the disciple of Anaxagoras, and
also to have gone to the Pythian and the Isthmian games.
With these exceptions, and those of the occasions ot mili¬
tary service abroad, he appears to have constantly remained
at home, unattracted from the town, the seat of his philoso¬
phic mission, by invitations even to the courts of princes.
In vain did Scopas of Cranon, and Eurylochus of Larissa,
offer him money, and invite him to visit them.2 He could
refuse also the hospitality of Archelaus, king of Macedonia,
the same with whom the poet Euripides found a kind and
honourable refuge in his old age, from the envy of his coun¬
trymen, and domestic grievance. His refusal of the invita¬
tion of Archelaus is said indeed to have been accompanied
with the declaration of his feeling, that he could not brook
the acceptance of a favour which it was entirely out of his
power to return.3 Nay, so entirely engrossed was he in the
work to which he had devoted himself, that he was a stran¬
ger, as Plato represents him, even to the immediate neigh¬
bourhood of the city. The banks of the Ilyssus, even then
375
classic ground, rich with legendary associations, could not Socrates,
seduce him from the agora and the crowTd; so that he seem-v »
ed scarcely at home beyond the walls of Athens.4
No Athenian, however, could decline the military service
of the state. And this service, at the time of Socrates, of¬
ten engaged the citizen in hazardous enterprizes and long
absences far from his home. The first occasion on which
Socrates is related to have served, was in the Chersonese
at Potidaea, just before the opening of the Peloponnesian
war. The service in which the Athenian soldiers were en¬
gaged here was one of great hardship. It was in the winter
season, and the climate in those parts was most severe.
Amongst those who distinguished themselves by their reso¬
luteness and gallantry, none was so conspicuous as the phi¬
losopher. Whilst others were clothing themselves with
additional garments, and wrapping their feet in wool, he
was observed in his usual dress, and walking barefoot on
the ice, with more ease than others with their shoes. Nor
even amidst these circumstances, did he merge the charac¬
ter of the philosopher in that of the soldier. He was seen
one morning at sun-rise fixed in contemplation. At noon
he was in the same position, and still in the evening, and so
continued through the night, until the sun-rise of the fol¬
lowing day. Such, too, was his bravery in the engagements
at Potidsea, that he earned for himself the prize of distinc¬
tion, but readily sacrificed his claim to the wishes of the ge¬
nerals, in favour of a more illustrious candidate in the per¬
son of Alcibiades. Alcibiades himself would have refused
the honour as due rather to Socrates ; for to the unwilling¬
ness of Socrates to leave him wounded on the field, he had
been even indebted for his own life, and the preservation of
his arms, after the battle. But the philosopher, with a true
magnanimity, insisted on the award of the generals.5
The next occasion of military service, in which he was
scarcely less distinguished than at Potidaea, was in the eighth
year of the Peloponnesian war, at the battle of Delium in
Bceotia. The battle was an unsuccessful one to the Athe¬
nians, and they were forced to retreat in disorder. Alci¬
biades was also present on this occasion, and overtook So¬
crates in company with Laches, one of the generals, on the
way. He was on horseback, and comparatively therefore
out of danger, whilst they were on foot. He had opportu¬
nity, therefore, of admiring the presence of mind which So¬
crates displayed on the occasion, even beyond Laches, and
the steadiness and vigilance with which he kept the enemy
from pressing upon them, and so secured their retreat.6
These incidents seem to rest on indisputable evidence.
The account of them is put into the mouth of Alcibiades by
Plato, in that most ingenious of his dialogues, the Banquet.
The very form in which they are introduced, related as they
are by an eye-witness, and that witness Alcibiades, the per¬
son, next to Socrates himself, most interested in them,
may justly be regarded as giving a sanction to their his¬
tory, independent of the fictitious circumstances of the
dialogue.
The third occasion on which Socrates served as a soldier
1 Plato, Laches, 187, e. "Ot> \x.oi Sonels eldevai on os dv iyyvTam laKpdrovs Xo-yo), wairep ytvei^ kcu nKr^o-La^rj 8ia\ey6pcvos,
avayKT) avroi .... Tvepiayopevov tco Xdya), prj navcrao'daL vtto tovtov npiv ipnecrj] eis to 8l$oi>(u nepi avTov \oyov, ovnva rpuTrov
vvv re fjj, Koi ovnva top TrapeXrj'kvdoTa (Biov [BeftiaKev, k. t. X. P. 180.
* Piog. Laert. in vit. * Aristot. Rhet. ii. 23. ^ . v , , , #
4 Plato, Phffidr. 230. be ye co davpacne, droTrcorard? ns (paivrj’ arenas yap 6 Xeyeir, ^evayovpevco nvi kul ovk eni^apicp eoiKas’
ourco? ex tov dcrreas ovt els ttjv VTrepoplav aTiobrjpeis, dvr e^co ret^ous epoiye boneis TOirapairav e^eivai. 2Q. Svyyivao-Ke brj poi, a
dpise, (biXopadris yap siai' Ta pep ovp vapta nal to. b&pbpa ovbev pe 6t\ei bibaaneip, oi b ep tco acrrei apdpconoi.. P. 287 ; also Crito,
p, 120. 5 Plato, Conviv. 220, a. p. 266 ; also Charmides.
® Plato, Conviv. p. 270. The story is again alluded to by Plato, in the dialogue, Laches. Laches is made to say that he had had expe¬
rience of the actions of Socrates, and reminds Socrates of the day of their common danger, f, per epov <rvpbieiapbvpev<ras, k. t. X. P. 182.
Laertius says that Socrates saved Xenophon, who had fallen from his horse in the battle of Delium, (in vit. Soc. n. 5-7.) But this
cannot be true, as Xenophon would be much too young at that time for military service. In the Deipnosophists of Athenseus, (v. 55), doubt
is thrown on these accounts of the military service of Socrates, and instances are given of the historical inaccuracy of Plato. The objec-
tions, however, as there given, are evidently thrown out in the way of discussion, and not with perfect seriousness, as if the speaker rea )
thought them of weight.
376 SOCRATES.
Socrates, was again in Thrace, at Amphipolis,1 in the same year as
that of the unfortunate expedition to Delium. No particu¬
lars are mentioned of this adventure. But the fact itself is
sufficiently attested. Nor, though it follows immediately
on the affair of Delium, is it improbable on that account.
For at this busy period of the war, when the Athenians
were making demonstrations of their power, by the presence
of their forces in different places at once, and when Brasidas
was pushing his successes against them in Thrace, no indi¬
vidual of the military age, (and Socrates was not more than
forty-six or forty-seven years of age at this time), would en¬
joy any long interval of relaxation from foreign service.
With these exceptions, Socrates appears then to have
constantly resided at Athens. All this time, throughout his
whole life indeed, he lived in great poverty, content with
the least that might suffice for mere sustenance and cloth¬
ing from day to day.
Yet it was no artificial, and melancholy, and fanatical
life that he led. He accustomed himself to a strict mode¬
ration, not with any view to the mortification of the body, or
as thinking that abstinence was in itself a virtue, but in or¬
der to self-command ; by rendering himself as independent
as possible of the circumstances of the body, to disencum¬
ber the soul of every burthen and obstruction to its free
operation. There was nothing, indeed, of austerity in his
life or manner. He might be seen walking barefoot, but it
was not for the pain that it might inflict. It was only that
he might bear cold and privations of every kind the better,
and suffer the less inconvenience when exposed to neces¬
sary hardships, and require the less for his ordinary subsist¬
ence. So far was he from studying a discipline of bodily
severity for its own sake, that he was observed at times
mingling in the social festivities of his fellow-citizens with
the full freedom of Athenian conviviality, and shewing that
he could bear excesses which mastered others, without los¬
ing his self-command.2
One account, indeed, but not a very credible one, as it
rests on the authority of Aristoxenus, an invidious writer,
states that he was supported by the alms of friends, contri¬
buted from time to time for his relief. With his very li¬
mited wants, and his ready access to the house of Crito
and other liberal patrons of philosophy at Athens, he
would not have to depend on this precarious charity. The
pittance which sufficed for the humblest citizen would
suffice for him. He is said to have inherited a patri¬
mony of seventy or eighty minse.3 But this sum, it is
added, he lost (though the time is not stated when the loss
occurred) by the failure of the person with whom it had
been placed at interest. He possessed also a house in
Athens; and he was able, however scantily, to support a
family. So that we cannot suppose he was absolutely des¬
titute of all resources of subsistence. He appears then ra¬
ther to have voluntarily renounced every kind of worldly
possession, so far as his own personal comfort was concern¬
ed, than to have been absolutely reduced to want by the
pressure of circumstances. Poverty, in fact, was his pro¬
fession, and not the mere necessity of his case. If he prided
himself in any thing, it was in his avowal of his contempt
for riches, and disregard of domestic interests and comforts,
in contrast with the general habits of an age of selfish acti¬
vity and profusion. The means of enriching himself, at least
of extricating himself from want, were often placed in his Socrates,
power, and he as often rejected them. Alcibiades offered
him land on which he might build a house, but he refused
it pointedly, observing, £,‘ Had I wanted shoes, would you
have offered me leather to make shoes for myself?—and ri¬
diculous should I have been in taking it.” Charmides
would have given him slaves, as a source of revenue by
their labour. This offer also he refused.4 In the same
spirit, he would often cast a look at the number of things
that were sold, and say to himself, “ Of how many things
I have no need !”5 Thus was his whole plan of life studi¬
ously opposed to the acceptance of any provision for his
comfort or ease. It was a service of the Deity in which he
felt himself engaged, and in the prosecution of that, so¬
lemnly devoted to a course of hardy poverty.6
In the domestic relations of life, he lived an Athenian
among Athenians. He differed from other heads of families
at Athens in this respect, that in his dedication of him¬
self to his philosophic mission, he took no thought about
the management of his private affairs. His home was
abroad ; his household the people of Athens. Still he
discharged the duties of a husband, and the father of a
family ; and that under trying circumstances, unless the pro¬
verbial severity of temper of his wife Xanthippe be es¬
teemed an idle scandal of the day. No Athenian, indeed,
was truly domestic, in the sense of making his home the
scene of his highest interest and enjoyment. Nor was So¬
crates domestic in this sense. Still less was he so than
other Athenians; inasmuch as his very profession of life
was a call from the bosom of his family. But in the midst
of these avocations from his immediate home, and the vexa¬
tions to which he was subjected there, he was not estranged
from the ties of domestic affection. Xenophon has recorded
a simple and touching trait of the character of Socrates un¬
der this particular point of view—a trait the more interest¬
ing, as almost every thing else that we know of the philoso¬
pher is drawn from his life in public. It occurs in the course
of a conversation between Socrates and his son Lamprocles,
who had complained of the insufferable temper of his mo¬
ther Xanthippe. “ What,” said he to the youth, “ do you
think it more annoying to you to hear what she says, than
it is to the actors, when in the tragedies they say every
thing bad of one another ?” “ But they, I conceive,” re¬
plied the son, “ bear it easily, because they do not suppose
that the speaker, in contradicting them, intends to hurt
them, or that, in threatening, he intends to do them any
ill.” “ Then are you,” resumed Socrates, “ vexed, when you
well know that what your mother says to you, she says, not
only intending no evil, but even wishing more good to you
than to any one else ; or do you regard your mother as un¬
kindly affected towards you ?” Lamprocles disclaiming this
latter supposition ; “ Do you, then,” he added, “ say of her,
who is both kind to you, and takes every possible care of
you when you are sick, that you may recover, and want no-
thing proper for you, and who, moreover, prays to the gods
in your behalf for many a good, and pays vows,—that she is
vexatious ? For my part, I think, if you cannot bear such
a mother, you cannot bear what is good for you.”7
From the description given by Plato of the family of So¬
crates in the prison-scene, it would appear, that Socrates
had other three children besides Lamprocles,—for Lampro-
1 Plato, Apolog. 28. c. op. i. p. 67. Diog. Laert. in vit. iElian, Var. Hist. iii. 17. * Plato, Conviv. JElian, Var. Hist. iv. 11.
3 About L.400 of our money. Plutarch (in his life of Aristides) finds fault with Demetrius Phalereus for having endeavoured to remove
the imputation of poverty from Socrates, by stating that Socrates had land of his own and seventy minae put out to interest by Crito.
Demetrius, however, seems only to have stated what he believed to be the truth. The idea of his extreme indigence originated pro¬
bably with the caricatures of his profession of poverty by the comic poets; and true as it was substantially, was afterwards, it
seems, maintained by his friends and admirers, as the evidence of the consistency of his life with his avowed contempt for worldly pos¬
sessions. r 1 1
4 Pi°g- Laert. in vit.
* Plato, Apolog. ’AW’ eV Trevla fxvpta elpt diet n)v tov 6fov Xarpeiav. Op. i. p. 5.
8 Ibid.
7 Xenoph. Mem. ii. 2.
SOCR
Socrates, cles died at an early age, before his father,1—who were yet
children, one of them a boy, another a child in the arms,
at the time of their father’s death.2 We learn from other
authorities,3 that two of his children were named Sophronis-
cus and Menexenus; but they are said to have been the chil¬
dren, not of Xanthippe, but of another wife, Myrto, the
grand-daughter of Aristides the Just.4 To account for this, it
has been stated, that after their disasters in Sicily, the Athe¬
nians made a decree authorizing double marriages, with the
view of recruiting their exhausted population. But this
statement does not appear to be borne out by the earlier
authorities on the subject of Athenian legislation. Nor is
it probable that a law should have been enacted, directly
sanctioning a form of polygamy. It appears, that during
the pressure and confusion of the Peloponnesian war, per¬
sons obtained the freedom of the city of Athens, whose
title was objectionable on the constitutional ground of their
not being born of citizen-parents on both sides. Thus had
Pericles, after the death of his two legitimate sons, obtained
the admission of his son, Pericles, by Aspasia, to the privi¬
lege of citizenship ;5 though he had himself carried, some
time before, a law of strict limitation, under which, nearly
four thousand were deprived of the franchise.6 Such ex¬
tension of the privilege to the offspring of illegal unions,
possibly gave a pretext to the supposition, that a decree
passed at Athens sanctioning bigamy.
Some difficulty, however, arises on the subject of the mar¬
riage of Socrates, from the conflict of authorities. Whilst it
is asserted on the one hand, that he was married to Myrto
and Xanthippe at the same time; on the other hand, others
assign them both as his wives, but in succession, and also
differ as to the order of succession. But the silence of Plato
and Xenophon respecting any other wife of Socrates but Xan¬
thippe, and their coincidence in speaking of her only as the
mother of his children, may be regarded as sufficiently de¬
cisive of the point against every subsequent authority. In¬
deed, the reference to Aristotle, given by Laertius, which
is the chief ground for believing that Socrates was married
also to Myrto, is very questionable. Plutarch doubts whether
the treatise to which Laertius appeals for the fact, is the
genuine work of Aristotle. From the manner, too, in which
the name of Myrto appears to have been introduced in the
account, nothing more may have been intended, than that
Socrates found her in a state of widowhood and distress from
poverty, and took care of her at his own home.7 Aristides
belonged to the same tribe and the same demus or borough,
as Socrates; and a reverence for the virtues of the grand¬
father, may have combined with these almost domestic ties, -
to call forth such an act of friendliness to the disconsolate
Myrto. And, if this be the case, as is probable, it would
only add an interesting instance of that liberal benevo¬
lence which characterized the whole conduct of Socrates.8
It is a confirmation of this conclusion, that all the anec¬
dotes of the private life of Socrates, with one exception,
and that evidently a fabricated instance,9 bring Xanthippe
on the scene. On his inviting some wealthy persons to sup¬
per, it is Xanthippe who is distressed by their deficient means
ofhospitality, and to whom he replies, “Take courage; if they
are worthy people, they will be satisfied; if they are worth-
A T E S. 377
less, we shall care nothing about them.”10 It is Xanthippe Socrates,
whom he reproves for her particularity about her dress on'^^v^'
the occasion of some public spectacle, as more desirous of
“ being seen than to see.”11 It is of her again that Alcibiades
expressed his wonder how he could bear with her, when he
simply, but pointedly referred him to her just claims on his
affection as the mother of his children.12 On another occa¬
sion, his discipie, Antisthenes, is said to have asked him,
with reference to Xanthippe, why he did not study to im¬
prove the disposition of his wife, whose violence of temper
(he observed) was unexampled in the history of domestic
life. Instead of confirming the censorious remark, he turned
it, according to his usual method, to a practical illustration
of his philosophy. “ If Xanthippe was hard to be controlled,”
was the tenour of his answer, “ it was only a proper disci¬
pline to him for the management of men; as those who would
be masters in horsemanship, began with managing the most
spirited horse, after which, every other would be tractable.”1*
These stories, and the like, handed down or invented by the
humour of the times, may be merely exaggerations of the
fact of the inconvenience and dissatisfaction occasionally felt
at the philosopher’s home, by his habitual neglect of his do¬
mestic concerns, and the duty of exertion consequently im¬
posed on Xanthippe beyond Athenian women in general. She
appears indeed to have tenderly loved her husband, if Plato
has faithfully traced the picture of her visit to his prison,
and her extreme anguish at that trying hour. And he also
knew her value, if his affection may be judged of, as surely
it may, by the kind and gentle considerateness of his man¬
ner in committing her to the care of his friends at parting,
and his absolute reserve of his feelings on that occasion.14
The picture indeed is drawn by the hand of a consummate
master; and Plato, it is true, was not present on the occa¬
sion. But we must believe, that in painting a scene that
must have been impressed on the mind of the disciples of
the philosopher, above every other incident of his life, and
of which persons then living must have retained a lively
recollection, he took his outlines at least of these interest¬
ing particulars from the real state of the case.
But the allusion to these circumstances brings us prema¬
turely to the solemn tragedy which closed his intrepid and
energetic career. We have yet to contemplate him pursu¬
ing ibr many a year his unwearied labour of awakening his
countrymen from their dreams of knowledge and happiness
to the realities of their condition in the world. Great in¬
deed must have been the address, which could recommend
the severe and wholesome truths inculcated by him, to the
hearing of the vain and volatile Athenians. To none is
the practical application of a principle, so condemnatory of
human folly and impertinence, as the maxim, “ know thy¬
self,” truly welcome. And yet this was the burthen of the
teaching of Socrates for a series of years, among a people,
whom it was far easier to please by praising to excess, than
not to displease by censuring ever so slightly. They would
listen, indeed, patiently to general invectives on their public
conduct, conveyed in the impassioned eloquence of their
orators ; as persons will even now sympathize with general
descriptions of the depravity of human nature, or of whole
classes of men. But all refuse the pain of direct self-appli-
1 Plutarch, De Gen. Socr. p. .331. * Plato, Phaedo, pp. 135, 262.
* Aristotle, cited by Laertius in vit. Socr. •* Diog. Laert. in vit.
,4 The same who was among the generals at the battle of Arginusae, and who were cruelly and iniquitously sacrificed to party spirit
after their great victory.
* Plutarch in Pericl. Op. i. p. 667.
’ The poverty of the family of Aristides appears from JElian, Var. Hist. x. 15.
* Plutarch in Aristides, Op. ii. p. 542. Plutarch adds, that Pansetius had sufficiently refuted the story of the double marriage in his
obsemtions on Socrates. The story is also questioned by Athenaeus. Deipnosoph. xiii. 2.
, Porphyry in Theodorit. Therapeut. xii. tells of altercations, even to blows, between Xanthippe and Myrto, whilst Socrates stands
byandlaughs, amidst their joint attacks on himself. Such stories are evidently untrue.
.Diog. Laert. in vit.
1 Lilian, Var. Hist. vii. 10. 5* Diog. Laert. in Vit. 13 Xenoph. Conviv. ii. 14 Plato, Phaedo,p. 135.
VOL. XX. 3 B
378
SOCRATES.
Socrates, cation of the truth; and Athenians, especially, regarded
* with invidiousness every attempt to impart to them moral in¬
struction. Every Athenian, they thought, was capable of
communicating this kind of knowledge, at least every edu¬
cated Athenian, every individual of the higher order of citi¬
zens.1 They wanted no one to teach them virtue. Hence
the allusion made on so many occasions by Socrates to the
question, whether virtue could be taught or not. It was, in¬
deed, part of the profession of the Sophists to teach virtue;2
but it was as an accomplishment or art, and not as a discipline
of life, that it entered into the system of the Sophists. So¬
crates uprooted this vain notion. He laboured to impress
on the Athenians, that so far from their being able to teach
virtue, there were none who knew what virtue was. They
had yet to learn themselves in order to that purpose. This,
then, was his great difficulty. It was not the difficulty of
communicating new knowledge, but that of leading men to
unlearn their presumptions and conceits, and to feel the ne¬
cessity of moral instruction.3 That he should have succeed¬
ed then in any degree in such an attempt,—that he should
have been able to carry on the effort for so many years, in
the very centre of Greek civilization,—that, proceeding on so
broad and fundamental a principle of reformation, presenting
no definite system on which a sect might fasten, no specific lure
to the zeal of party, he should have drawn around him so many
followers and admirers,—this is the extraordinary effect
in the case of Socrates, which shews the powerful charm of
his address. To persons offering any particular instruction,
or professing to qualify them for the office of statesmen
and orators, the Athenians were most ready to attend ; and
many doubtless did attend to the conversations of Socrates
with this view. They could not but admire the skill which
he displayed in arguing with every one that came in his
way ; not with the vulgar only, but with those who had the
highest reputation for talent in reasoning, and for the extent
of their knowledge. They saw his superiority to the So¬
phists, on the very ground on which the Sophists set up their
pretensions. Many, accordingly, flocked to him as the
best master in political science and dialectical skill, par¬
ticularly as he was always accessible, and his instructions
were perfectly gratuitous. Some, too, of a better nature
than the rest, were won by the honest and manly purpose
which shone through his teaching and manner on all occa¬
sions ; whatever disguise of irony, or humour, or sophistry,
he might assume. There were even some of the young men,
whose habits of life were reproved, and principles con¬
demned, by his searching interrogatories, but who yet were
won to attention by the charm of his instruction, and pa¬
tiently heard from him truths which they would not have
listened to from any other lips. For who else could stay,
even for a moment, the wild impetuosity of Alcibiades, or
the ferocious arrogance of Critias ? Their motives in resort- Socrates,
ing to Socrates were chiefly selfish and political. It wTas in
pursuit of their schemes of ambition that they sought his
society. Still he was able to retain them for a time at least,
though they found his instructions very different from what
they calculated on receiving; and so long as they continued
to associate with him, they exercised a degree of self-re¬
straint which strikingly contrasted with the habitual profli¬
gacy of their lives.4 Alcibiades is represented by Plato, as
confessing that he, to whom the feeling of shame was scarcely
known, yet felt abashed before Socrates ; that he was en¬
chanted by him as by the flute of Marsyas, and constrained
to acknowledge his own deficiences and neglect of private
duty in the midst of his officious zeal for the public service.
And this feeling, Alcibiades says, was general; for that
there was no one, woman, or man, or boy, that could hear
him, or even his words repeated by the most indifferent
speaker, but felt taken by surprize, and riveted in attention.5
This attention, too, it should be observed, was excited by
the address of Socrates, amidst much in his outward form
and mien, that, by exciting ridicule, might have repelled the
sentiment of respect. The comparison of him to the satyr
Marsyas, with all allowance made for comic exaggera¬
tion, was true in more respects than that of the en¬
chantment of his conversation. His countenance, strongly
marked by that arch intelligence, which half-concealed, half-
betrayed, the earnest deep thought, under the light veil of
irony and humour, presented features resembling those of
the grotesque images of the Sileni. There were the promi¬
nent dilated eyes, scarcely parted by the low ridge of
the nose, the broad expanded nostrils, the wide mouth with
its thick lips, such as the sculptors delighted to represent
in those rude but poetic forms.6 Then his manner of look-
ing about him, his head fixed, whilst his eyes traversed the
space around, glancing from side to side, excited the smile
of wonder in the spectator, as to what this strange solem¬
nity of aspect might portend. Add to this, the clumsy pro¬
tuberance of his figure, so repugnant to Grecian notions of
the symmetry of form, and the awkwardness of his move¬
ment7 before the eyes of a people who had a lively percep¬
tion of elegance in every gesture and motion.8 These were
circumstances which, to the fastidious taste of the Greeks,
would appear more important than we, in these times, can
well conceive. They judged of intellectual character more
from physiognomy9 (physiognomy, that is, considered as a
science, of mental indications from bodily forms in general)
than we are apt to do. Thus in regard to Socrates, the
physiognomist, Zopyrus, who, as Cicero informs us,10 pro¬
fessed to discern the manners and natures of men from their
body and features, pronounced that Socrates was stupid
and heavy, because the outline of his throat was not con-
1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 2. 24. Kariyaki ouv rtZ vau ‘Xou yeygayfem rb TvZdi tfavrov; "JS.ywyi. Horigov ovv oudsv <tei roZ
y^yarog i/iiXr^sv, n ir^oaUyjg re xa/ m^e/gjjtfas (Savrbv exnswmTv Seng tlr\g; Ma Af, ou epjj. xa/ yap dri erdvv roZro ye
ifuriv tfovai' eydkfi yhi av dXXo n ydeiv, elye yrf eyavrbv iyiymexov, x.r.X.
2 Isocrates speaks of them as ebyjZaeav dger^i/ xa/ evbaiyoviav vuXovvreg, and, again, as rfy svdaiyoviav Kasadidovrug Or. c. Soph-
”s Plato, Euthyphro, 3. c. A^a/'o/j yuo rot, wg eyoi ov e$Lha ffkei, dv nm heivbv oiwvrcu eJvai, yn fevroi didaexaX/xbv rijg
avrov eotiac h 8 dv xa/ akXwg omvrui cro/e/V roiovrovg, 6\j[iavnar fir ouv cpkvu, Sig gu Xeyag, lire hi dXXS n. Op. 1- 6-
See the same indicated at the opening of the Protagoras, where Socrates ironically throws out his opinion, that virtue cannot be taught;
founding it on the fact of the indiscriminate admission of all persons to advise on political affairs in the Assembly, whilst on particular sub¬
jects, as in a question of building, those only were consulted who were proficients in the art. ’Eraddv he n vep rr g noXeug hnnxyeeag her]
povXeveuoGcu, cvfifavXevei auroTg dmrdyevog eng! rourwv cyoiug fee rexrm, bfiohag he yaxxe-jg, exuroropog, famgog, rauxXr^og, vXvjoiog,
2?at0' 0p' P' 105i al‘° Me”“’ °P' Conviv. 215, Op. *. p. 257.
1 Theldea ^hifauemp^ngto'dance excites a laugh in the guests in Xenophon’s Banquet. Xenoph. Sympos. He says there that he
practised dancing for the sake of exercise.
» Ariltotie introduces in his Analytics (Anal. Prior, ii. c. ult.) a notice of the subject, as affording matter of consideration to the
dialectician. to Cicero, De Fato, c. 5.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, cave, but full and obtuse. Prejudices accordingly drawn
from the personal appearance of Socrates may reasonably be
believed to have tended to render his teaching unwelcome
in its first impressions. But soon this fastidiousness would
give way as he proceeded; and those who began to listen
with a smile at the uncouthness of his form, and the quaint¬
ness of his manner, would be attracted to admiration of the
intelligent and kindly expression which lighted up those
rude features, and would find themselves lingering in his
presence in spite of themselves.
The story of Euthydemus “ the handsome,” as he was
called, may be taken as a specimen of such an effect.
Euthydemus, proud of his personal accomplishments, and
not wishing to be thought indebted to any one for his learn¬
ing and eloquence, had studiously avoided the society of
Socrates. Socrates, however, with his usual dexterity, con¬
trives to excite his attention, and gradually interests him
in conversation. Euthydemus shrinks back at first on his
self-conceit, but at length is so won upon by the persuasive
reason of the philosopher, as freely to acknowledge his own
ignorance and need of instruction; and, ever afterwards, he
is found by the side of Socrates, his devoted admirer and
follower.1
Some, indeed, took offence at the plain truths which So¬
crates brought home to them, and no longer frequented his
society.2 But these were the inferior sluggish minds, which
no arts of address could rouse to a sense of their intellec¬
tual poverty. Generous, susceptible minds overcame their
first reluctance, and yielded themselves fully to his guid¬
ance. The faithful attachment of many was evidenced, to the
last moment of the philosoper’s life. He might have com¬
manded the use of Crito’s wealth, had he desired it. Such, in¬
deed, was the confidence which Crito reposed in his sinceri¬
ty of purpose, and so highly did he value his instructions, that
to no other would he commit the education of his sons, but
made them fellow disciples with himself of his own revered
master and friend. And this friendship was warmly requited
by Socrates. For it was by his counsel that Crito was
saved from the malicious arts of the sycophants. These
pests of Athenian society were not to be encountered by
the simple testimony of a life contradicting their merce¬
nary calumnies ; and Crito was one of those who would ra¬
ther pay their money, and compromise the attack, than take
the trouble of defending themselves. They were only to be
foiled by turning their own weapons against themselves.
By the suggestion of Socrates, accordingly, Crito enlisted
in his service a clever individual of this class, Archedemus,
who effectually checked the iniquities of which his patron
was the object, by counter-prosecutions of the sycophants,
and exposure of their conduct; acting as a watch-dog, ac¬
cording to Xenophon’s description, against those rapacious
wolves.5
The devotedness of Plato and Xenophon to their master,
speaks from every line of their writings. These writings
are, in fact, as much monuments of the influence of So¬
crates over their minds, as of their own genius. And what
human teacher has ever had such glorious trophies erected
of the conquests of his philosophy as the extant works of
these master minds? Entirely different as they are in cha¬
racter, the one flowing with the full stream of impassioned
feeling, and lively elegant imagination, and the abundant
treasures of literary and traditionary wisdom,—the other sen¬
sible and acute and practical, forcible by his very simpli¬
city and the terseness of his unaffected eloquence,—they
bear distinct yet conspiring evidence of the ascendancy of
hat mind which could impart its own tone and character
o such disciples. Both of them, indeed, lead us to think
that they felt his society as a kind of spell on them. For,
379
when Plato speaks of the charm of the discourses of the Socrates.
Sophists, he seems to speak in irony of them what hev^",Y“^'
thought in truth of Socrates himself. So too, when Xeno¬
phon introduces Socrates describing himself as skilled in
“ philters and incantations,” he is evidently presenting that
idea which the conversations of Socrates impressed on his
own mind. He seems almost to confess this of himself when
he informs us, how Socrates triumphantly appealed to the
marked devotedness of his followers, in saying, “ Why
think you that this Apollodorus and Antisthenes never quit
me ? hy too, that Cebes and Simmias come here from
Thebes? Be assured, that this is not without many phil¬
ters, and incantations, and spells
To the same honourable band of attached disciples might
be added many other names afterwards renowned in the
annals of Grecian history and literature. Isocrates, Aristip¬
pus, Antisthenes, each of whom became afterwards mas¬
ters themselves, were content to follow in his train. An¬
tisthenes especially, who, by perverting the Socratic sim¬
plicity of life into a profession of austerity, became the
founder of the Cynic school, was never from his side. He
would walk from the Piraeus to Athens, a distance of about
four miles, every day, in order to be with Socrates. And
whilst Cebes and Simmias came from Thebes, Euclid, the
founder of the Megaric sect, was not deterred by the bitter
hostility between Athens and his own city of Megara, from
seeking the society of Socrates at the hazard of his life.
Even during the war, when the Megareans were excluded
by a rigid decree, he continued his visits to Athens, adopt¬
ing, it is said, the disguise of female attire, and so passing
unobserved into the city at nightfall, and returning at day¬
break.5 The same individual gave still more conclusive
evidence of his zealous attachment to Socrates afterwards;
when he opened his house and his heart to receive, at Me¬
gara, his brother disciples, in their panic on the death of
their master. So strong was the tie of reverence and af¬
fection which subsisted between the philosopher and those
whom he drew around him. They formed, indeed, a sort
of select family, each of whom was engaged in the pur¬
suit of his own peculiar employments and tastes in the world,
whilst all looked up to Socrates as their father and head,
and ever recurred to his society as to their common home.
This domestic intercourse subsisted in the midst of a city
harassed with jealousies and dissensions, and with severe af¬
flictions of war and pestilence. Socrates remained unmoved
through all these convulsions of the city, preserving a con¬
stant evenness of temper, so that Xanthippe could testify
of him, that she never saw him returning at evening with a
countenance changed from that with which he left home in
the morning.6 Nor could even the merriment of which he
was sometimes the object, discompose his settled gravity
and good humour. On one occasion, returning from sup¬
per late in the evening, he was assaulted by a riotous party
of young men, personating the Furies, in masks, and with
lighted torches.7 The philosopher, however, without being
irritated by the interruption, suffered them to indulge their
mirth ; only he required them to pay that tribute which he
exacted from every one that came in his way, to stop and
answer his questions, as if he had met them in the Lyceum,
or any other accustomed place of his daily conversations.
Himself sound in mind and body, (for his habitual temper¬
ance saved him from the infection of the plague which so
obstinately ravaged Athens,) he was enabled to give advice
and assistance to all of his country in the midst of the phy¬
sical and moral desolation, in which every one else then
seems, more or less, to have participated.
Thus were the years of a long life quietly and usefully
spent; and he had nearly reached that limit at which
1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 2.
* Aul. Gell. vl 10,
2 Ibid. 40.
* iElian, Var. Hist. ix. 7.
3 Ibid. ii. 9.
4 Ibid. iii. 2.
, Ibid. c. 29.
jgQ S O C R
Socrates, nature herself would have gently closed the scene of his
philanthropic exertions, when the hand of human violence
interposed to hasten the approaching end.
The annals of party spirit at Athens had already re¬
corded many a deed of dark and wanton cruelty. But
they were yet to be stained with the iniquity of a persecu¬
tion even to death, of him, who had been the greatest be¬
nefactor and ornament, not only of Athens, but of the whole
community of the Grecian name.
The banishment by ostracism had this redeeming merit,
that it was an avowal in the face of Greece, of the envious
and factious spirit, which drove from the state the indivi¬
dual whose talents or virtues too greatly distinguished
him among his fellow-citizens. The enmity to which So¬
crates fell0a sacrifice, exhibits a deeper character of malig¬
nity; inasmuch as it masked itself under a hypocritical
zeal for religion and virtue, and thus courted public sym¬
pathy for proceedings, against which every voice in Athens
and in all Greece should have indignantly protested. Os¬
tracism, again, was content to remove the obnoxious great
man from the eyes of his fellow-citizens. The attack on
Socrates was satisfied with nothing short of the destruc¬
tion of its victim.
It was in the midst of the tranquil, but busy course of
his daily engagement, that Socrates was suddenly arrested,
and without, it seems, any previous intimation of the in¬
tended attack, summoned to the portico of the king-Ar-
chon, to answer a charge of impiety.1
The accusation was in this form: “ Socrates is guilty of
the crime of not acknowledging the gods whom the state
acknowledges, but introducing other new divinities: he is
guilty also of the crime of corrupting the young.” The
penalty proposed was death. It has been commonly sup¬
posed that the charge was laid before the court of Areo¬
pagus. But it would appear rather, from the course of
the trial, to have been before one of the popular courts,
and probably, from the great number of dicasts or jurors
who voted on the cause, before the principal court, the
Helisea.
The circumstances connected with the accusation re¬
main, after the utmost inquiry now possible, involved in
considerable mystery. We are told that Meletus was the
accuser, and that he was supported in the prosecution by
Anytus and Lycon. These three individuals are also said
to have represented distinct classes of persons interested in
the proceedings; Meletus, who was himself a poet, appear¬
ing in behalf of the offended poets; Anytus, a wealthy
tradesman and demagogue, resenting the affronts of his
brother-tradesmen; Lycon, an orator, or politician by pro¬
fession, standing up as the assertor of the pretensions of his
factious order. But these particulars, though they may account
to us in a great measure for the success of the prosecution,
do not exhibit the secret agency by which it was effected.
The accusers themselves were men of no note or import¬
ance in the state. Meletus was a young man; a vain and
weak person, it seems, of whom nothing more is known
than that the accusation was made in his name. Nor of
Anytus and Lycon have we anything to mark the import¬
ance, beyond the fact, that the former was included,
together with Alcibiades and Thrasybulus, among the
persons exiled by the Thirty, and the notice taken of
ATES.
him by Plato, where he represents him the inexorable Socratw.
foe of every thing in the shape of a philosopher, and'-^"\^v.
as parting from a conversation with Socrates in anger.2
Merely personal offence, however, could not have given
sufficient pretext or weight to so grave an accusation. Nor
can we suppose that it was even the combined interest of
the three classes represented by the three accusers—the
poets, the tradesmen, and the orators—which carried the
condemnation of so respected a person. The ground of
the attack must lie deeper; and the men whose names ap¬
pear so prominently in this fatal conspiracy against the
life of the venerable old philosopher, could only have been
ihe puppets moved by some secret and more commanding
force. The trial would seem to have been only a solemn
pageant, exhibited before the public, as a prelude and jus¬
tification of a deed of murder already resolved on by its
real though invisible perpetrators. Whilst the charges
themselves, as set forth by the nominal accusers, were but
feebly sustained, it is evident that no defence, however
just and able, could have availed to avert the sentence of
condemnation. The body of jurors before whom the cause
was heard, appear to have been disposed to acquit the ac¬
cused, if we may judge from the number of votes which were
given in his favour ; and yet the majority were overruled.
This in itself would lead us to think that some secret in¬
fluence had been exercised, to obviate the chance of failure
of the ordinary ostensible means of judicial assault. And so
Socrates himself appears to have felt; if Plato and Xenophon
have faithfully reported the substance of his reply to the
accusation in their Apologies. His defence, as there re¬
presented, is that of one who retires, on his own conscious¬
ness of right, from a bootless conflict with adversaries who
are not to be appeased by argument and persuasion. It
does not set forth the strength of his cause as against an
opponent, but simply asserts the truth and merit of the
course of life which he had been pursuing.3 The sentence
accordingly. excites no surprize in him. He yields him¬
self up as to the sweeping of a tempest, with which it is
vain to parley. Would we then explore the circumstances
of the trial and condemnation of Socrates, we must obtain
a deeper insight into the moving power of Grecian politics,
—the spirit of the heathen religion, and the mode of its
action on the conduct of states and individuals. This ap¬
pears to be the proper solution of the case of Socrates.
The circumstances of the case evidently point to this.
And though, from the want of information, we cannot very
distinctly trace the working of the religion of the times in
the particular instance before us, we may, from a closer
consideration of the facts, not unreasonably suspect its ac¬
tive operation and instrumentality.
Speculators have sometimes spoken of the mild and
tolerant spirit of paganism. The observation, however, is
superficial and untrue. The facility with which the polythe¬
istic worshipper transferred his offerings and prayers toevery
new idol, has been mistaken for a readiness to admit any
variation from the established worship, or any freedom Ol
opinion respecting divine things, without offence. The
contrary is the fact. The heathen, resting his religion on
ancient tradition4 and the authority of the priests, and not
on any intrinsic evidences of its truth, could not but feel a
jealousy of any departure from what he had thus received,
1 Plato, Thaetet. ad fin. Euthyphro. et alib. The king-Arcbon was a sort of minister of state for the department of religion—the re-
presentative, under the democracy, of the priestly office of the king during the monarchy at Athens. See Demosthenes, c. Neaer. p. 1370,
ed. Reiske.
* Xen. Hell. ii. 3. 42, 44.—Plato, Meno. ^ / j » n
3 See the same exemplified in what Socrates is made to reply to Callicles in the Gorgias of Plato, p. 162, roiourov fitvrot xa/ £/« oioa,
on wudos •mDoi/xi av tlssXduv t/g bixaerfyov, x.r.X. > < . „ -
* Demosthenes, in his Oration against Neaera, p. 1370, speaks of a column erected in the temple at Limn®, sv aj^a/oraroj rou
A/ovutrou ’/mi ay/wrarw, and standing in his time, which stated, among other things, ha xara ra warg/a Sujjra/ ra agg»jra kga img
?roXsw?, %al ra vo/x/tf/xsva y/ywjra/ roTg ko7g ivtsefiug, ml (iqdsv xaruXvnrai, (Arfis MMrofhqrai: and he sums up the account with uoqre,
wf Ci'Ma ml uyia, ml dcyjua, ra sdnv.
S O C R
gocrates. or any attempt to bring the subject into discussion. It
was not only the primitive Christians that were stigmatized
by heathens as atheists, because they renounced the divini¬
ties of the heathen creed, but the same reproach was long
before cast upon those among the heathens themselves, who,
with however pious disposition, ventured to speculate on
religion. A traditionary religion will tolerate any laxity ot
thought or conduct which professedly admits its authority,
whilst it peremptorily puts down every thing which impugns
the principle of absolute deference to its authority. 1 hus
we shall find, that, where that principle is carried to the ut-
most, there co-exists with it a scarcely concealed infidelity,
and an unrestrained licentiousness of conduct; and, at the
same time, also an extreme sensitiveness in regard to devi¬
ation from the orthodox profession and language. We have
unhappily seen this in those Christian countries, where the
true faith, the principle of devout submission to the word
of God, has been transformed and perverted into a doctrine
of implicit deference to the authority of the ministers them¬
selves of that word. There,—as, for example, in Spain and
Italy, where the authority of the church is bowed to most
submissively, practical infidelity and immorality^ shew their
front with impunity, whilst the expression of opinion or arSu"
ment on questions of theology is discouraged and silenced, if
no longer now, as once, crushed at its outbreak by the daik
terrors of an Inquisition. The same fact was intensely
exemplified in heathen Athens. At no place was piety,
as piety was understood by heathens, more in honour.
No state boasted such a tradition of sacred associations as
Athens. In none were there so many festivals and solem¬
nities of religious observance, as in Athens.1 In none did
the priests of religion hold such sway. W itness their
power over Alcibiades, at the moment of his political tri¬
umph, and amidst the caresses and admiration of his fel¬
low-citizens, when he felt himself obliged to relinquish his
command in Sicily, and desert his conntry, rather than en¬
counter at home the threatened prosecution for his profana¬
tion of sacred things. Witness their power again in the
instance of the same Alcibiades, at his restoration to the
command of the army, when, to conciliate their favour, he
delays the urgent expedition, and keeps the soldiers under
arms along the road by which the sacred procession passed
from Athens to Eleusis. Witness further, the frequent
prosecutions at Athens on charges of impiety of which
we read, and of which we have monuments in extant
orations. But, amidst this strictness of external pro¬
fession, in no place was there a more entire license
as to practical irreligion. Their festivals abounded with
rude and obscene mirth. Their drama, whilst it inculcated
in direct precept the belief and worship of the gods, in¬
dulged in the most profane ribaldry and ludicrous repre¬
sentation of sacred things. Yet were these follies and ex¬
cesses tolerated, because under them a regard was still
maintained to the authority which upheld the religion, as
in the “ mysteries ” and “ moralities ” enacted with the
connivance of the papal power in modern times; and l^ie
people at large were satisfied w'ith a religious system,
which was exhibited to them as so good-humoured and
humane. Thev were tolerated, indeed, but not without
the like injury to the religious feelings, as in the parallel
AXES. 381
cases, where a corrupted secular Christianity has ventured Socrate*.
on the like palliations of its despotism. For all the while'—y
the people were losing their hold of the popular religion.
Those who thought at all on the subject, either rejected it
altogether, or accounted it a mere matter of opinion and
external ordinance; whilst those, on the other hand, who were
content to receive every thing traditionary as divine on the
mere principle of deference to the priests, readily engrafted
every new superstition on the received religion. Thus,
whilst infidelity and superstition grew up at Athens, and
flourished together, and often perhaps in the same mind,
the connexion between religion and morality was altogether
lost sight of and dissolved. Men began to regard them¬
selves as devout, and friends of the gods, whilst they were
committing deeds of violence and lust, and blindly and
wickedly endeavoured to support the cause of religion^
by forcible suppression of the truth, and persecution ot
those who subjected their tenets or their rites to the test
of inquiry. Thus, whilst Aristophanes was amusing the
people, not of Athens only, but from all parts of Greece, at
the public festivals, with ludicrous representations of the
popular theology, and loosening more and more any exist¬
ing associations of reverence towards the objects of their
worship, severe prosecutions were carried on from time to
time against all who in any way made religion a matter
of debate, or seriously brought it into question with the
people. The same persons can take part in the vulgar low
jest, and shew their real contempt of religion by their care¬
lessness about oaths and the practical duties of religion,
and yet join zealously in the prosecution of offenders against
established notions of religion. It is the same habit of
mind in both cases; a habit of looking at religion as a ge¬
neral rule of orthodox profession,—as a rule binding on a
community, and a test ot its soundness of doctrine,—rather
than as a personal concern, and a trial of the spirit of a man.
“ He has brought Gentiles into the temple, he has abolished
circumcision, he has profaned our religion, was the outcry
against St. Paul; and yet these same persons thus clamo¬
rous against the apostle, were minding earthly things all
the while, sticklers for externals, yet idolaters in their per¬
sonal religion, as men of covetousness, and slaves to the
appetites of the body.
At Athens, accordingly, though there was no freedom of
religious opinion, the religion might be employed to excite
festive mirth, and gratify the levity and licentiousness of a
dissolute yet intellectual populace, amidst the charms of
poetry and music and the solemn graceful dance. For then
the associations of deference to the mysterious agency
which held together the traditions of the popular creed were
not violently broken asunder. There still remained in the
minds of the people an awe at the indefinite mystic truth,
hidden under the embroidered veil held before their eyes.
They knew that the splendid drama of religion, which at
once gratified their refined intellectual taste and their sen¬
sibility, was not the whole of their religion. They had al¬
so the Eleusinian mysteries; rites of religion performed in
secrecy, and fenced round with the terror of death to him
that should divulge them ; delegated to a few, the initiated
only, and incommunicable to the vulgar; of which the po¬
pular rites were but the rude symbols.2 The popular wor-
‘ Aristoph. Nub. 298. o5 c'efias d^ruv hguv, JVa
/Avaroboxog dofjho;
iv rtXtraTs dyiatg dvabsUvurai,
cvgawis n 6toTg bu^[iavat
mot 6' b^i^<piTg mi dyaA^ara,
lutf«pavo/ n 6iuv Dvoiai baXiai n
rravTobavoug ev ugaig, x.r.X.
Also Thucyd. ii. 38; and De Repub. Atben. attributed to Xenophon. ^ „
* Isocrat. Panegyr. p. 54. *A5 ou^ oToV dXKoig n roig /itiiunfimig dxovuv ... mi rfr reXtv^, r\s oi fMTiyyng mg/ rt TVS
tou /3/ou reXtvrrjs, xui rou cu/Affavrog aiwvog, vb/ovg rag e\mbag lyouff/t.
382
SOCRATES.
Socrates, ship might wear the form of caricature, the grotesque, the
farcical, and even the profane, as being merely the pan¬
tomime in which some recondite interior religion was
dimly and wildly shadowed. The people laughed at what
they saw and heard at their festivals. But amidst their
laugh there was evidently a feeling of awe, which sub¬
dued the luxury of their mirth ; a consciousness that
whilst they sportively shook the chain of their superstition^
its iron entered into their soul. We see, on the other hand^
Aspasia, the favourite of Pericles, at the time of the Great¬
est popularity of that most popular leader, summoned before
the courts, to answer a charge of impiety, and scarcely de¬
fended by the eloquence and the tears of Pericles- himself,
from the inexorable power, whose vengeance she had pro¬
voked by her philosophical speculations. Protagoras, ad-
miied as he was and courted at Athens for his talents in his
profession of a Sophist, was expelled from the city and bor-
dei s of Attica by the Athenians, and his books were collect¬
ed by proclamation and burnt in their agora, for his avowed
scepticism as to the existence of the gods.1 JEschylus,
whose very poetry is instinctive with religion, was accused
before the Areopagus of divulging the mysteries in one of
his tragedies. The philosopher Anaxagoras, like Galileo
under his papal inquisitors, suffered imprisonment at the
hands of Athenian persecutors, for having asserted the ma¬
terial nature of the heavenly bodies, and only escaped death
by the intervention of Pericles, and by exile from his adopt¬
ed home. The extent again, to which prosecutions for of-
a?a*ns^ P°Pular religion could be carried at
Athens, is shewn in the number of persons who were ini-
piisoned on suspicion of being implicated in the impieties
charged on Alcibiades, and the execution of so many, on
that occasion of panic, on the unsupported evidence of se¬
cret informers. Lastly, not many years before the accusa¬
tion of Socrates, Diagoras the Melian, and Theodorus of
Gyrene, were branded with the epithets of atheists ; and the
former was forced to fly from Athens on a charge of profa¬
nation of the rites, with the price of a talent set on his head
for any one who should kill him. And long after the time
of Socrates, the same spirit subsisted to drive Aristotle from
the Lyceum, and later still, to intimidate the speculations
of Epicurus. So strictly was the authority of the establish¬
ed worship guarded by a jealous and watchful inquisitorial
power, in a state which boasted of its perfect liberty of
^ speech, its TTapprjcria, above all others.
In fact, there was no liberty of speech on this subject in
Greece. Every thing relating to religion was to be receiv¬
ed as handed down from former ages; as the wisdom of an
immemorial antiquity, borne along on the lips of the priest
and the prophet, or impressed on mystic rituals, the heredi¬
tary trust of sacred families, or symbolized in the pomp and
pageant of festivals and games, in the graceful majesty of
temples, and the solemn shadows of sacred gi'oves. The
inward devotion of such a religion naturally took the form
of silence, and reserve, and awe. It was concentrated in
the simple dread of profanation. The more superstitious
indeed a people is, the more necessary is it that the rites
of their religion should be strictly shut up from all inquiry,
and a feeling of reserve should be inculcated as essential
to the religious character. It is the indefiniteness of super¬
stition that holds together the system. Let any one part Socrates,
of the vaguely-floating system be touched too palpably,
and the whole crumbles. Thus it has been found, that su¬
perstition and infidelity have always gone hand in hand.
Diagoras was made an atheist from being at first supersti¬
tious. The Athenian people, in like manner, from their su¬
perstitious character, w^ere peculiarly exposed to a reac¬
tion of impiety. And it was but a wise policy, therefore,
that the religion of Athens should be jealously guarded
with an awe forbidding all inquiry into its truth.
The colloquial and lively spirit of the Athenians miti¬
gated the intensity of this feeling in the minds of the people
at large; and the managers of the system were fain to re¬
lieve it, by blending recreation, and mirth, and interesting
spectacles, with its public celebration. Grecian supersti¬
tion accordingly, whilst it bore the essential marks of its
oriental origin, in the submissiveness exacted of its votaries,
and its mystic reserve, assumed also the mask of cheerful
expression characteristic of the genius of the people. Still
we see that submissiveness and that reserve strongly mark¬
ed in the stern denial of the right, not only of private judg¬
ment on questions of religion, but even of bringing such
questions at all into discussion.
Now, though, as we have already observed, we cannot
distinctly trace the steps by which this spiritual despotism
was brought to bear on Socrates, we cannot doubt that his
was a case which must have attracted its notice. During
more than forty years, Socrates had been seen at Athens,
going about among all classes of the people, exciting
among them a spirit of moral inquiry, urging on them the
importance and the duty of self-knowledge, of taking no
opinion on mere hearsay, or indolent and self-satisfied
trust, but of bringing every thing to the test of discussion
and learning, of acquainting themselves, as their first step
to knowledge, with the depth and extent of their igno¬
rance. Observers saw in this extraordinary teacher, one of
their own citizens, educated in their own institutions, fami¬
liar with the habits of Athenian life, ever at home among
themselves, recommending himself alike to the young
and the old, by the honest though quaint dignity of his
manner, and the interest and charm of his conversation.
He was not, like Anaxagoras, or Protagoras, or Prodicus,
a stranger sojourning among them; a philosopher or
rhetorician by profession, or one pursuing philosophy as a
trade and a source of subsistence, waiting to be resort¬
ed to and courted by the affluent and noble, and reserv¬
ing himself for occasions of display or profit; but he was
found, an Athenian among Athenians, in the market place,
in the streets, in the work-shops, at the tables of the wealthy,
himself seeking out persons to instruct, asking questions of
all around him, and engaging them, even in spite of them¬
selves, in conversation with him.5 In other teachers, philo¬
sophy had spoken, according to the observation already
made, as from an oracular shrine, to those only who came
to inquire of it as votaries and disciples. With Socrates,
philosophy walked abroad, insinuating itself into the scenes
and business of daily life, and drawing forth the secret
treasures of men’s minds with its own hands. According to
that homely but apt illustration of his mode of teaching,
which he was so fond of employing, from midwifery,
Xfiog. Laer. ix. c. b. Oic* X)e Nat. Pcor. i. 23. See thG story of th6 daughter of no . ,.
agauist Nesera, p. 1369. She had been married under the pretence of being an Athe.dan eitSen to an Ath ^ ^ T f
the king.arehon. As the wife of this officer of the state, she was admitted to the rites of re imon “a A hen,1an.w,ho sclved thf office of
temple of Bacchus at Limn*. But it was unlawful for any but a true-born citizen to eLf into thP temn ^
er husband consequently was tried before the court of Areopagus for the impiety and only escaned on^hn T t0 f c—8 tne rites ; a"d
fact, and on the condition of his dismissing her from his house. ? * 7 P " the plea °f hlS ^0v<iuce of the
ASiian, Var. Hist. v. 19.
po»r&„«^PhS13.d' r, mg m,rl Mgl Xiym, oi
amyrnSz, %„ ,S'"5 "T't rfsA" Op. t.i. p. 6. Xenoph. Mem. i. 2. 'AXXa Ml ro, M
SOCRATES.
383
Socrates, his method freely offered its services in assisting at the
birth of the thought with which the pregnant mind was
labouring. He busied himself, he used to say, with the
officiousness of his maternal art, in exploring the genuine¬
ness of the fruit of the intellectual womb, which his dex¬
terous questions had brought to light.1 Such a person
then could not but fix on himself the eyes of every at¬
tentive observer of the state of society in Athens. Such
teaching evidently could not but have a very conside¬
rable influence on public opinion. Particularly when he
was seen to be acceptable to men of all parties in the
state, to the leaders of the aristocratic faction as well as
the humblest citizen, it could not but be inferred that his
influence was not a transitory one, dependent on the predo¬
minance of any party, but that it would reach to the funda¬
mental constitution of the society at large of the city, and
be a leaven of fermentation to the whole mass. What, then,
it would naturally be asked, must be the effect of such a
teacher on existing opinions in religion ? He taught, indeed,
that men should acquiesce in what was established in reli¬
gion ; that they should inquire no further here than what
simply was the law of the state. He treated, too, the po¬
pular imagery of religion with respect. For he would often
clothe his instructions in the language of the legends and
traditions of their mythology. Nor did he attempt to
explain them away, though he waived all discussion of
them. He was seen, too, on all stated occasions, sacri¬
ficing at the altars of the gods, and joining in the rites.2
But, it would be asked, if the citizens were taught to exa¬
mine into received opinions generally, would they abstain
from carrying this principle into the subject of religion ?
Would they continue still blindly and submissively to fol¬
low the voice of authority? Would they not rather, so far
as they were disciples of Socrates, begin to speculate on di¬
vine things, abandoning that reverence which they had
hitherto maintained for the objects of public worship, dis¬
puting and discussing without reserve, and exposing to the
vulgar gaze what had been all along venerated in mystic
silence, and under the veil of symbol ? The mercurial tem¬
perament of the Athenian was just the soil in which the
seeds now scattered by the hand of Socrates might be ex¬
pected to vegetate. The excessive prosperity, too, of
Athens, during the fifty years immediately following the
Persian war, and then its condition of struggle against inter¬
nal faction and the confederate arms of Peloponnesus, were
circumstances calculated to foster the profane irreligious
spirit in a light-hearted people. Then, instances were not
wanting of young men, the intimates of Socrates, and whose
minds had been especially cultivated by conversation with
him, who proved in the end traitors to the religion, as
well as to the civil liberties of their country. Critias,3 after¬
wards one of the thirty tyrants, and Alcibiades, at once the
pride and the pest of his fellow-citizens, whom they loved
and hated, and banished and longed for by turns, were
striking evidences to the superficial observation of the evil
apprehended from the teaching of Socrates. For here were
young men of genius, susceptible by nature of the fullest
influence of the lessons of the philosopher. And yet these
had failed under his hands. What, therefore, might not be
expected of minds of inferior order ? How would not the
religion and the institutions of the city fall into profane ne¬
glect and contempt, should the Socratic spirit of inquiry be
imbibed by the next generation of citizens ? The obser- Socrates,
vation, indeed, was only a very superficial one, which would
infer from such instances the evil of the teaching which these
individuals misapplied. Still it is plain, that such cases were
pointed at with invidious reference to Socrates and philo¬
sophy in general. We find the orator jEschines attributing
the death of Socrates to the circumstance of his having
educated Critias ;4 not that he must be supposed to have
believed this to have been the whole account of the trial
and condemnation of Socrates ; but as an orator, he states
for the purposes of his argument, what he conceives would
be readily believed as part of the account of that event.
Plato also studiously addresses himself to the defence of
philosophy, from objection on this ground, with evident al¬
lusion to Alcibiades and the like cases; arguing that the
same individuals who were most susceptible of the good of
philosophy, were also such as would be the most apt to
abuse it. And probably he had the same design, and re¬
fers to the degenerate sons of Pericles himself, as an instance
in point to those who cherished the memory of that great
man, and of the times in which he flourished, to shew that
the philosopher was not to be held responsible for the ex¬
travagances and vices of the disciple.5
The exhibition of the comedy of “ The Clouds,” appears
to have been designed to bring before the people the sup¬
posed evil tendency of the teaching of Socrates, as exem¬
plified in such distinguished instances. It was produced in
the year b.c. 423, when the philosopher had attained his
forty-seventh year, and was at the height of his reputation
throughout Greece, and about twenty-three years before
his death. There we have Socrates introduced by name
under broad caricature, as the representative of the class of
sophists, and a consummate master of the arrogant preten¬
sion, and sordid cunning, and impiety of the class. The
clouds are his only divinities. A profligate spendthrift
youth, and a dotard father, are his dupes. The inquisitive
method which Socrates practised, is also held up to ridi¬
cule and contempt, by identifying it with the frivolous
questionings of the grammarians, and dialecticians, and rhe¬
toricians of the day, and with the perverse sophistry which
held truth a matter of indifference, or, which amounted to
the same thing, called every man’s opinion truth, and boast¬
ed of its skill to make the worse appear the better cause.
It was but too evident to Athenian spectators at least, that
the Socrates of Aristophanes was not the Socrates whom
they had been accustomed to see and converse with in real
life. And the play accordingly failed at the first exhibition.
Not all its charms of poetry, and humour, and skilful com¬
position, could obtain for it a favourable reception. Though
Aristophanes was aware that the portrait which he had
drawn, was not a portrait of the individual, but of a class,
there can be little doubt, that he calculated on the sympathy
of the people, in giving the name of Socrates to his personi¬
fication of the sophistical spirit; and that he felt it necessary
to depreciate the influence of Socrates as the commanding
influence of the day, by attributing to his method all the
vices of the schools of the sophists. Socrates is honoured
and complimented in the very attempt to weaken the re¬
spect for his instructions, and to awaken a clamour against
him. The failure of “ The Clouds,” at the first representa¬
tion, and one account adds, even at the second, (for the
play is said to have been retouched for the third time), has
1 See especially Plato’s Thesetetus in illustration of this. 2 Plato, Euthyphr., pp. 11-13, and Phaedrus.
3 Critias is placed by Sextus Empiricus among the atheists. He is said to have resolved all religion into the enactments of legislators
providing against the secret commission of crimes, by inculcating the all-seeing power of the gods. He gives also several lines from a
poem of Critias to this effect. Adv. Math. lib. viii. p. 318.
4 jEschin. con. Timarch.
* See the Protagoras and Repub. vi.—Xenophon adverts in like manner to the charge of corruption as supported by the instances of
Critias and Alcibiades. Memor. i. 2. See also the conversation which Xenophon reports between Socrates and Hippias. Isocrates, in
JBusir. p. 222, c. with the like feeling, denies that Alcibiades was educated by Socrates J meaning, it seems, that Alcibiades was too short
a time with Socrates to be benefited by the instructions of the philosopher.
SOCRATES.
384
Socrate*. been attributed to the influence of Alcibiades. Alcibiades
indeed has been supposed by some commentators to have
been no less the object of attack in the play than Socrates
himself, and to have been designated under the name of
Phidippides, the youthful and accomplished victim of the
sophist. There are certainly some traits in the character
of Phidippides, which would seem to point at Alcibiades,
whom perhaps the poet, bold as he was, could hardly ven¬
ture to bring on the stage by name or closer description
at this particular time. And we may perhaps justly allow
some weight to party influence in neutralizing the effect of
“ The Clouds” at its first exhibition. Still, when we ob¬
serve in other instances the great power which the comic
muse could wield against a political opponent, as in the at¬
tack on Cleon in “ The Knights,” we cannot but think that
there was some strong countervailing feeling in the estima¬
tion of Socrates himself. If the account of ./Elian be true,
Socrates could join in the laugh raised against him ; for he
was present in the theatre during the acting of the play, and
finding that he was the object of attraction, placed himself
where all could command a view of him.1 He knew, and
every one in Athens knew, that he was a very different per¬
son from the sophists with whom the play identified him.
They indeed were corrupters of the young; for they un¬
settled every established principle in the minds of the
young, and gave no substitute for what they profligately
swept away. They left the young to be drifted away by
the tide of their passions, with no criterion of truth or of
right beyond the present opinion or the present interest.
But Socrates, whilst he taught the young to inquire into
the truth of their opinions, lessened their presumption and
self-confidence, by shewing them how apt they were to mis¬
take mere assumptions for knowledge, and to be conceited
of their ignorance. His object was truth, and accurate
knowledge. He stated difficulties and objections, but not
in the spirit of a sceptic, but in order to awaken curiosity,
to clear away confusion of thought, and inculcate sound
principles of judgment and conduct. He could well then
laugh at the jest which glanced from him to its proper ob¬
jects, the sophists themselves, the very persons against
whom his whole teaching was directed. He felt doubtless
that he had a hold on the people at large, which the so¬
phists had not. They were for the most part known only
to the great and wealthy; those who could receive them
into their houses, as they went from city to city through
Greece; who sought their society as patrons of literature, or
aspirants after political distinction, and who could pay for
their instructions.2 He on the contrary was accessible to
all. He would receive no money from any one. He was
the frequent guest of the rich ; but he was no less the as¬
sociate of the artizan and the poor. And too many must
have been present in the theatre, when the Socrates of
“ The Clouds” was amusing the audience by his sleight-of-
hand philosophy, who would remember the real Socrates as
a man of honesty, and truth, and disinterested benevolence,
from whom they had received much useful counsel from
time to time, and whom they had ever found affable, and at
leisure to enter into their feelings and views with patience
and kindness. If we compare the Socrates of the Memora¬
bilia of Xenophon with the Socrates of “ The Clouds,” we
may judge how great was the contrast to those who com¬
pared the well-known philosopher of the agora with his por¬
trait as drawn by Aristophanes. If we can smile at the ca¬
ricature of “ The Clouds,” and yet love the excellent mo¬
ralist of the Memorabilia, we may also conceive how harm¬
less the satire of Aristophanes would really be against the
object of it; whilst the jokes of the poet, true as to the per¬
sonal peculiarities of the philosopher, amused a volatile and Somte*.
clever people. For them to have confounded Socrates with^^y^
the class of sophists, would have been in them the like
palpable mistake, as it would be to confound the philosopher
Bacon, on account of some points of resemblance, with the
alchemist and empiric of the preceding ages.
It might seem matter of reproach against Aristophanes,
that, in selecting the name of Socrates to represent the so¬
phistical spirit which had then so largely corrupted the
education and the government of Athens, he pointed the
shafts of the comic muse against the very person who was
in truth its most successful antagonist. In such a view of
the case, however, sufficient justice would not be done to
the discernment of the poet. He shrewdly observed in
Socrates the master genius which would ultimately cast
into the shade all those busy professors of the art of edu¬
cation, who, under the name of sophists, or professors of all
knowledge, were then attracting the notice of the world to
themselves and their doctines. Socrates, in himself, Aris¬
tophanes could not but admire and recommend to the imi¬
tation of his country. He doubtless knew Socrates to be
a true patriot no less than himself,—to be steadily aiming
to bring back the Athenians to the purity of their institu¬
tions, from which they had so sadly degenerated, by his
instructive conversations, as he was by the satirical strokes
of the drama. Socrates, too, appears to have been his per¬
sonal friend; for Plato introduces them in his Banquet as
meeting on terms of intimacy, about the very time of the
exhibition of “ The Clouds.” But with that freedom which
the state of manners, under an absolute democracy, sanc¬
tioned and encouraged, Aristophanes did not scruple to
bring even the revered name of Socrates on the stage, to
give the due point to his satire. He overlooked the indi¬
vidual, the Socrates with whom he familiarly conversed,
and presented before the spectators what he saw in Socrates,
the living speaking impersonation of the influence of edu¬
cation on the character of a people, for good or for evil.
Anaxagoras, or Protagoras, or Prodicus, or any other of the
well-known philosophers or sophists of the day, might have
occupied the foreground in the comedy of “ The Clouds
had the poet sought to give merely a fugitive sketch of the
sophistical spirit of his times, or to single out for ridicule
some of its external superficial features. This is what
Plato has done on many occasions, and especially in that
most animated picture in the dialogue entitled Protagoras,
where he groups together the figures of the leading so¬
phists in such admirable relief with each other, and such
happy contrast with the unpretending but dignified form of
his own loved master and friend. Such a view, however,
could not have answered the design of Aristophanes in his
play of “ The Clouds.” His object was to seize the deep,
influential characters of the system of education which was
then extending itself throughout Greece, and especially as
it was manifested at Athens, the great school of all Greece.
Naturally, therefore, and wisely, he fixed his eye on an
Athenian—-and that Athenian, Socrates,—not only as the
first Athenian who had appeared in the office of a philoso¬
phical instructor, but who, as an Athenian, gave to his
lessons the character of Athenian civilization, and fitly ex¬
emplified the influence of philosophical education in the
hands of an Athenian, and as operating on Athenians.
The poet, indeed, as addressing the eye and the ear of
the ordinary observer, and not Athenians only, but stran¬
gers of the Grecian name from all parts, mingles with his
colouring some playful lights borrowed from the forms of
the well-known professional sophists of the day. But nei¬
ther are these representations, nor the allusions which he
1 jElian, "Var. Hist.
Plutarch well characterises the teaching of Socrates, in speaking of him, as dvbpos arv^la kcu d<pe\eia udXisa fin duXoaocbia*
t^avepunTjaavTos. De Socr. Gen. p. 301.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, makes to the real eccentricities of manner and uncouthness
°f person in Socrates, the points on which he desires to fix
the attention of the theatre. It is the important modifica¬
tion of the Athenian character, under a system of education
which had now reached its maturity. Under the adminis¬
tration of Pericles, that system had already infected the
policy of the state, and perverted its courts of justice into
sinks of corruption and oppression. Now, at length, it
was found domesticated at Athens in the sanctuary of pri¬
vate life. An Athenian had appeared in the character of
a professor of philosophy; and around him were gathered
citizens of all ranks, from the noble youth who aspired to
the helm of the state, and the wealthy patron of literature,
to the mean artizan who worked at the forge, and the drudge
of the market. What was further to be observed now,
was, that the system came recommended by the eloquence
of lively and exciting conversation. And how powerful
must have been such conversation, as it came forth from
the lips of the speaker in the elegant and terse Attic idiom!
It was no wonder, therefore, that the comic poet should
have seized this moment for portraying the danger which
he anticipated to his country from the fashionable educa¬
tion of the day, and thrown all the force of his ridicule on
the most attractive form in which it then presented itself,
as displayed in the personal teaching and example of So¬
crates.
The testimony of Plato is to the same effect. Plato has
not given us an exact portrait of Socrates any more than
Aristophanes has ; for he has evidently transferred to the
Socrates of his Dialogues, not less of his own cast of mind
and manner, than Aristophanes did to the Socrates of his
comedy, of the general tone of the sophists. And this is
to be accounted for, as in the case of Aristophanes, from
the fact, that Plato regarded Socrates as the impersonation
of the philosophy of the times. He felt that, to give his
own doctrines a proper authority and weight, he could not
employ a more effectual organ than the tongue of him who
had first given to philosophy an Attic expression, and from
whom it would henceforth derive its proper Grecian cha¬
racter.
But though the drama of “ The Clouds” was unsuccessful
as an attack on Socrates, if it were intended as such, or as an
attack on the sophists under the name of Socrates, which is
the more probable view of its design, it must not be supposed
that the play produced no effect unfavourable to Socrates.
The tradition, that Aristophanes was employed by Anytus
and Meletus to write down Socrates, does not seem altogether
without reason ; though it can hardly be literally true, when
we look to the distance of time which intervened between
the production of the play and the accusation. In the Apo¬
logy of Plato there is an allusion to the prejudice excited
in the young men by the representation given of the philo¬
sopher in this play. Nor had “The Clouds” been the only
attack on Socrates by Aristophanes; not to mention other
comic writers who had made him the object of their
humour. In the year 405, not more than five years be¬
fore the prosecution, the play of “ The Frogs” had been
exhibited, in which a pointed allusion is made to the
influence of Socrates in terms of reprobation.1 In the
mean time, also, the same note had been struck; for the
play of “The Birds” was produced in the middle of this
385
interval between “The Clouds” and “The Frogs,” in the Socrates,
year 414; and in that again the Athenians are warned
against the corruptions and enchantments of the philoso¬
pher.2 And it is very possible that many who lived to
witness the formal accusation of Socrates, might have re¬
ceived their earliest prejudices against the philosopher by
what they heard in the theatre then,—prejudices, too, which
the course of events, the miseries of the Peloponnesian war,
and the anarchy consequent upon it, may have ripened
into exasperation.3 For they saw their country fallen from
its proud station in Greece, to the condition of a depend¬
ent state; and they were led to ascribe their misfortunes
to a change of habits since the days of Marathon and Sa-
lamis,—to their having deserted the palaestra and the field,
and become, from a body of devoted patriots and soldiers,
students of rhetoric and masters in debate.4 During all
this time Socrates continued the unrivalled teacher of the
youth of Athens; increasing, indeed, in renown and popula¬
rity ; and surrounded by a number of students of philosophy
and political science from all parts of Greece. He had, in fact,
converted Athens into a university of Greece. For though he
had no professed school,—no (ppovTio-rripiov, as Aristophanes
jocosely represents the scene of Socrates amongst his dis¬
ciples,—no regular place of meeting, such as Plato had in
the Academia, and Aristotle in the Lyceum;—there might
be seen around him in familiar conversation, in every
part of the city, day after day, the statesmen, and orators,
and generals of the republic,—philosophers of established re¬
pute from other cities,—the sons of the noblest families of
Athens as well as of the humblest citizens,—and the resident
foreigners and occasional visitors of the city; some seeking
instruction in the art of government, some investigating by
his guidance the chief good of man, some studying the theo¬
ry of eloquence and criticism, some exploring, by the light
of his searching questions, the depth of metaphysics, and
the subtile speculations of the earlier philosophers; all ac¬
cording to their different pursuits, and in their different de¬
grees, receiving information and general mental culture from
the great Athenian sage. Those who clung to the thought of
Athens in its days of military glory and empire, would pain¬
fully observe how great a change had taken place in the
internal habits of the city. Formerly it was enough for
the intellectual improvement of the youth, that in childhood
he had the grammarian for his instructor, and as he grew up
to manhood, was consigned to the poets;5
roTg gh yao ‘ircudaeioHjiv
sffn d/ddax.u\os ocr/f fga^s/, rofaiv d’qftutn sro/^ra/6
Now even the slaves were becoming literary. The dis¬
tresses of war had occasioned the addition to the roll of ci¬
tizens, of many even from that class. And these might be
seen, as the comic poet represents them, “ each with his
book, learning clever things;”
fiifiXwv t ixcurrog yavdavu rd dsi'/u.7
Formerly, their wise men were obliged to leave the ig¬
norance and rudeness of their own city, and learn philosophy
by foreign travel. Solon had brought back with him from his
travels the wisdom of Crete and of Asia to enrich their code
of laws, but had not given philosophy a domicile at Athens;
had not affected domestic life there with its refinements.
1 Aristoph. Ran®, 1487. 2 Aristoph. Aves, T282, 1554. 3 See Thucyd. iii. 82, |d gsv yag tigrjvrixai »ya6oTi ‘Tf^dyiiadiv, x.r.X.
4 In Xenoph. Mem. iii. 5, the younger Pericles asks Socrates how the Athenians are to be brought again to become enamoured of their
ancient virtue, glory, and happiness; and afterwards he expresses his wonder how the state ever began to decline. Socrates imputes their
degeneracy to their neglect of the institutions of their ancestors. The particulars mentioned are, want of respect to elders, neglect of
bodily exercises, even to the ridicule of them, insubordination to authorities, mutual irritation, envy, quarrelsomeness, litigation, covetous¬
ness, incompetence of their generals.
6 If we except the profession of the Sophists, when at its height of public favour, skill in the composition of tragedy was the most
highly rewarded of ail talents at Athens. Plato, Laches, 183, b. p. 169. The poets of Athens, therefore, were naturally jealous of
the popularity of philosophers and sophists.
6 Aristophan. Ran. 1052. 7 Aristophan. Ran. 1111.
VOL. XX. 3 C
7 Aristophan. Ran. 1111.
386 S O C R
Socrates. From that time, however, a change, introduced by the lite-
rary taste of Pisistratus, had gradually prepared the way for
establishing a school of philosophy at Athens.1 Pericles,
too, had given a great stimulus to the literary spirit by his
own fondness for intellectual pursuits, and the society of
intellectual men. In the midst of his active political life,
he could find time and thought for the elaborate disqui¬
sitions of the ingenious persons whom he invited to him.
He could spend a whole day in disputing with Protagoras
on so subtile a question as the theory of causation;2 such
was the intense interest which he displayed in every thing
tending to the development of mental energy, and such the
encouragement he gave to the change of taste then in pro¬
gress by his own example. In the person of Socrates was
found the genius formed to preside over the growing taste
for literary and philosophical refinement, and to give it the
form of an established institution. What, therefore, were
merely indefinite fears at the time of the exhibition of “ The
Clouds,” assumed a more distinct character of alarm to an¬
cient prejudices within a quarter of a century afterwards.
The rapidity and violence of several successive revolutions
of the government during the latter part of that interval,
further prepared the minds of the people for any sudden
outbreaks of party spirit, and made every man an object
of suspicion to his neighbour. A democracy of an hundred
years’ existence3 had been overthrown, and first an oli¬
garchy of four hundred, then a tyranny of thirty, establish¬
ed by foreign arms, in its place. Nor, as it had not been
without fraud and bloodshed that the people had been spoil¬
ed of their “ ancient liberty,”4 were they disposed to sur¬
render it in quiet; or were those who seized on the govern¬
ment able to retain it long on the same footing. A struggle
ensued; in which the individuals of contending parties only
sought to provide, each for his own aggrandizement and in¬
terest, or at least his own safety, under the constant expec¬
tation of some counter-revolution.5 The people had found
that some of those very persons who would never have been
suspected of oligarchical views, had in th*» late changes
taken part against the popular government, so that they
knew not, at last, whom to trust even of themselves.6 We
are not to wonder that an accusation of Socrates should
have succeeded before an Athenian jury at this period of
morbid sensitiveness of the public mind.
An accusation of impiety was, we must remember, too, an
accusation of a political offence. A change of the popular re¬
ligion was a change of the fundamental constitution of a Greek
state. And as in the absolute rule of a single despot, so in
the tyranny of a multitude, the reputation of zeal for religion
is studiously maintained from policy, if from no higher mo¬
tive, to throw around its arbitrary acts the reverence and
fear due to the religious character. The teaching of So¬
crates was indeed eminently religious, but it differed from
what the state regarded as such. He proved the existence
of an invisible divine power, wisely designing and govern¬
ing all things, and inculcated the duties of piety and mo¬
rality as flowing from the belief of such an agency. Such
clearly was not the state-religion.7 This was no system of
truth or morality. It was tradition and legend, and imme¬
morial usage, andritual observance.8 And it was enough for a
charge of impiety that Socrates rested religion on other
A T E S.
grounds. A pious Athenian, and yet not pious after the man- Socrates,
ner of the Athenians, was, in their view, an introducer of new
gods. He might well be believed to be a worshipper of the
clouds and the air, when he pointed out to them, that the gods
would not receive the sacrifice offered by wicked men,9
that even their silent counsels were not concealed from the
divine cognizance, and that justice was an indispensable
duty of the worshipper of the gods.10
That the accusation further should be credible, as brought
in this form, is not strange, when it is known that, during the
Peloponnesian war, the worship of new gods had been intro¬
duced into the city; as at Rome during the depression of its
fortunes in the first years of the second Punic war. So great¬
ly had the vicissitudes of fortune influenced the minds of men,
observes Livy, describing this effect,—so great was the influx
of religion, and that chiefly foreign, into the state,—that ei¬
ther the men or the gods appeared to have suddenly become
different.11 So at Athens, it appears, the forms of super¬
stition had been multiplied, under the pressure of civil and
domestic calamity acting on the fears and credulity of the
people. The strong reproof which Euripides puts into the
mouth of Theseus, of the austere life of Hippolytus, would
seem to point at some ascetic devotees among the Athe¬
nians themselves, practising a more refined and scrupulous
religion, distinct from that of the vulgar;
"lie)?) vvv «*%£/, xui 3/ (3ogai
2/ro/f /CocwjjXsu, Ogp/a r uvuxt
liux/'i'js, xoWZv yga./A/xuruv rifidiv /caffwjj.12
In Aristophanes13 we find still more evident allusion to
the introduction of new objects of worship, new fanatical
rites, in which the women chiefly officiated, and in which a
gross licentiousness mingled with the gloom and solemnities
of barbaric superstition.
Again, education was intimately connected with politics
in a Grecian state. The state took in hand its youthful
citizens, and trained them according to its peculiar institu¬
tions, and in its own spirit. At least, in all the early con¬
stitutions, great attention was paid to education. Lycurgus
made Sparta a constant school of war to his citizens. So
too Solon, though he had, with greater knowledge of human
nature than Lycurgus, adapted his institutions to the people
for whom he legislated, provided that the people should be
trained to the system of laws prescribed to them. But this
care of the early legislators had begun to be lost sight of in
practice.14 In Aristotle’s day it had disappeared everywhere.10
In Sparta it was still nominally reverenced. In Athens, an
entire relaxation of the educational discipline had taken
place already in the time of Socrates. Pericles, flattering
the democratic spirit of the Athenians of his day, could
boast of their ease from labours and the obligation of exer¬
cises, and congratulate them on the courage which they
could display at the time of action, without being inured
beforehand by a course of hardy discipline.16 But now,
whilst the state was remiss in not enforcing education ac¬
cording to its ancient system, a new system had grown up,
the offspring of the luxury and refinement of its days of im¬
perial greatness. This new and unauthorized education
was diffused throughout the mass of the inhabitants beyond
the pale of the citizens, Solon’s law imposed the duties of
1 Aul. Gell. vi. 17. Libros Athenis disciplinarum liberalimn publice ad legendum praebendos primus posuisse dicitur Pisistratus tyran-
nus, &c.
2 Plutarch in Pericl. Op. i. p- 665.
3 Thucyd. viii. 68. 4 Thucyd. viii. 71, 72. 5 Thucyd. iii. 82. ndnuv b’avTuv u’/nov, x.r./,. G Thucyd. viii. 66.
’ Aristotle, Pol. v. 9- 8 Cic. de Legib. ii. 16. 9 Xenoph. Mem. i. 3. 10 Xenoph. i. 6.
11 Liv. xxv. 1. Quo diutius trahebatur bellum et variabant secundse adversaeq. res non fortunam magis quam animos hominum; tanta
religio, et ea magna ex parte externa, civitatem incessit, ut aut homines aut Dii repente alii viderentur facti, &c.
12 Euripid. Hippolyt. 952. 13 See Pax. 410, 428. Lysist. 389.
14 Lysimachus, in the Laches, complains of their fathers having neglected their education, ou .ciev sAv r^v<pav, p. 162. See this
dialogue of Plato throughout, on the subject of Athenian education.
14 Aristot. Pol. v. 7. oA<y&i£ot5ir/ Trdvnf.
16 Thucyd. ii. 39.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, the exercises on the citizens, but excluded the slaves from
^y^^the gymnasium. Now all classes were hearers of the philo¬
sopher ; the smith, the carpenter, the fuller, the dresser of
leather, were engaged in discussing problems of ethics and
politics, no less than the high-born and wealthy citizen, and
the orator, and the statesman, and the general. This was
an evident indication of a corresponding change in the go¬
vernment itself; a change, which really came to matu¬
rity not long after the time of Socrates, when the machi¬
nery of the government passed from the hands of the gene¬
rals and the men of practical ability, into those of the ora¬
tors of the republic, and when rhetoric, or oratory, became
the master science, and only another name for politics.1
Those, then, whose attention had been drawn to the per¬
son of Socrates many years before, and had then only laugh¬
ed at the exaggerations of the comic muse, might naturally
begin to suspect, in the progress of events at Athens, that there
was a real danger to the institutions of the country couched
under the humorous mien and conversation of the real Socra¬
tes. They would now, as they watched his increasing influ¬
ence and reputation, recal their early associations of the lu¬
dicrous with the name of Socrates, not with the good humour
with which they were originally received, but with the unde¬
fined fears since acquired, in the course of their daily obser¬
vation, of one in whose hands the destinies of their country
seemed to be placed. They would probably then think that
they had judged his case too leniently before as spectators,
and that they were now called upon to pronounce authori¬
tatively as judges, not so much from the representations and
arguments of the accusers, as from their own experience of
the great change which their country had evidently under¬
gone, and was still undergoing. Even indeed at the time
of trial, nearly half of the great body of jurors were in fa¬
vour of his acquittal; and Meletus would have failed alto¬
gether, but for the speeches of Anytus and Lycon, men of
popular and rhetorical powers, who addressed the court in
support of the charge; so strongly did the weight of his
personal character, and the interest which he had excited
by his friendly and instructive intercourse with every class
of citizens, prevail in his favour.
We should take into account, further, the general neu¬
trality of Socrates on questions of politics, and his decisive
energy on particular political occasions, in which he was
called upon by the circumstances of his position to take
part. Both lines of conduct would create enemies. Neu¬
trality in a state distracted with parties is the most unpo¬
pular course which can be adopted; however candid and
reasonable the principle of such conduct may be, all parties
look with jealousy at one who will not be associated with
them in the guilt and the danger of party-struggles. They
envy him his exemption from their violence, his reputation
of candour, his safety under every vicissitude of party-as¬
cendancy. Corcyra, as a state, was obnoxious to the other
states of Greece for its neutral policy. So was the indivi¬
dual at Athens who kept aloof from public business, amidst
that restless pragmatical spirit which actuated the state and
its citizens. Athenians could not understand and appreciate
the motives of one who abstained from the public assemblies,
and the courts, and the theatres,—who shrank from all public
offices,—was a member of no faction or club,—engaged in no
trade,—disregarded even his own domestic concerns,—and
387
lived a private man, where every one else was the servant of Socrates,
the public, busy with the affairs of the state, and incessant-
ly pushing his own interests by his political activity.2 The
laws of Solon indeed inculcated the principle, that every
one should take his side in the contention of parties.3 So¬
lon wished to interest the people in the maintenance of the
constitution which he had given them; and accordingly,
obliged them by penalties to attend to public affairs. This
was evidently his reason for compelling their attendance in
the assemblies and courts, as also for this singular provision.
The increased action of the democratic spirit in the time of
Socrates must have greatly fostered the opinion thus de¬
clared in their ancient laws. And thus we find philosophers
in general held in disrepute at Athens, on account of their
inactivity and unconcern in public affairs. The busy so¬
phist, the orator, and the man of the world, censured them
as pusillanimous, and indolent, and incapable of the duties
of a citizen. Some of the early philosophers, indeed, had
been distinguished as statesmen, and legislators, and gene¬
rals. The Pythagoreans in Magna Graecia appear still to
have sustained this character in some measure. But now
philosophers were observed, for the most part, to lead a con¬
templative life of leisure, and to present a striking contrast
to the general society of Grecian states. Plato takes every
opportunity in his writings of defending philosophy from this
calumny directed against the persons of its votaries, evident¬
ly treating it as a grievance which he had felt in his own case.
Aristotle also indicates the prevalence of the same objection
against philosophers at his day, when he studiously maintains
that exertions of the mind in mere speculation are to be re¬
garded as even more really practical than those which are di¬
rected to external results.4 Socrates accordingly was a puzzle
to many of his contemporaries. They wondered thathe should
freely dispense the treasures of his wisdom, and not convert
it into a marketable commodity. Whilst they gave him
credit for integrity, they regarded such a proceeding as
mere folly.5 They asked how he could think to qualify others
for public life, without taking part in it himself if he really
knew what it was to be a statesman. But he was content,
in reply, to point to the number whom he had laboured to
render capable of public duties, as a more effectual service
on his part to the state, than a mere personal activity.
But though the general conduct of Socrates was to
avoid all interference in affairs of state, he had shewn on
one or two very important occasions his patriotic feeling,
and the energy with which he could carry it into effect. He
had served with distinguished courage at Potidaea, Amphi-
polis, and Delium, as we have seen; and proved himself,
on those hard-fought days, one who, as Pericles character¬
izes the Athenians, could philosophize without effeminacy,
and, without being inured to the dangers of the field, could
brave them at the moment of trial with no diminished spi¬
rit. But still greater occasions of trial were those of civil
exertion at home, to which he was called not long before
the accusation of impiety. Perhaps one of the most memo¬
rable instances of resolute firmness which history presents,
is to be observed in the fact, that when the uproar of fac¬
tion was demanding the iniquitous condemnation of the ge¬
nerals who commanded at Arginusae, Socrates stood alone
among his colleagues in office, and refused to put the ques¬
tion to the vote, as the epistates, or superintendent of the
1 Aristot. Eth. Nic. x. Ta 8s vroX/r/xa svrayysXXovroc/ [jjh bihaGntiv o) aotpitira), vouttsi 8' auruv ou8i/g, dW’ o) craX/rrjo/zsvo/, x. t. X.
fwv 8s eopiaruv oi s'lrayysKkofisvot . . . ou yug dv r^v aurriv rfj grirogixii ovds •/sigto er/Osauf. c. ult.
* Thucyd. ii. 40. svi rs roTg avroig o/xsiuv dfia, xal voXinxuv sftifisXsiu, xcci srspotg irghg soya rsrga/Ajusvo/g r« ‘rroXmxd fi^ si/dsug
yvuvar //,ove/ ydo rov rs [irihh ruv8s fisrs^ovra oux dtfgay/jjova «/.>.’ dy/osTov vofii^ofisv.
3 Plutarch, Solon, 20, tom. i. p. 354, ed. Reiske.
4 Aristot. Pol. vi. 3. ’AXXa rbv rr^axrixhv olx dmyxa7ov, x.r.X. Also Ethic. Nic. x. 7. The oration of Isocrates against the so¬
phists is addressed to the same popular calumny against philosophy.
\Xenoph. Mem. i. 6. ’XI luizgartg, syu> rot <ts fisv 8!xaiov vofii?w, ffopbv 8s ou8’ OTruffr/ouv, x.r.X. . . . Ka^ truX/v nur's roZ Ao-
pSmij s^o/imu, x.r.X. ibid.
388 SOCRATES.
Socrates, day, in the form proposed.1 Each of the ten Athenian tribes
had its turn of presidency in the council of Five Hundred
for thirty-six days of the year ; fifty out of the whole tribe
being chosen by lot as its representatives during this pe¬
riod. These fifty were further subdivided into tens; and
each of these tens, under the name of proedri, served a
week in succession, as it was allotted, until the official
term of the tribe was completed. Again, of these ten
presidents, seven were appointed by lot, to occupy the chair
in succession during their week of office ; each one of the
seven becoming in his turn epistates, or superintendent for
a day. The tribe Antiochis, to which Socrates belonged,
happened to be the presiding tribe on the occasion of the im¬
peachment of the generals; and it came to the lot of So¬
crates to be in the chair of office on the day when the ques¬
tion of their condemnation was so passionately debated.
The generals had nobly done their duty to their country,
and gained the most brilliant victory which had been achiev¬
ed at sea in the course of the war by the Athenian arms.
But the crisis was an unfortunate one for them. Athens
was then on the verge of ruin. The jealousy of parties was
at its height. The hopelessness of recovering the lost
ground by military strength at this time, gave an opening
and encouragement to personal intrigue, and the arts of an
unscrupulous diplomacy; and a victory, however honour¬
able to their arms, and hopeful as to the future, seems only
to have been hailed with very doubtful congratulations by
the struggling factions of the city; each looking at it rather
as it might act for or against his party,—as it might tend to
the strength of his rivals or their depression,—than as a great
public triumph. However this may be, for the event remains
a matter of perplexity to the historian, the successful gene¬
rals were brought to trial through the treachery of their own
officers, on the specious charge of having neglected the col¬
lecting of the dead bodies of their men alter the action.2 The
charge was specious, because it was partly true, and was at¬
tested indeed by the very officers who were sent by them on
that service, and who were now brought as witnesses against
their commanders. It was true, so far as the endeavour to col¬
lect the dead bodies had been frustrated by a violent storm
which followed the engagement. Still the endeavour had
been made. The charge was further specious, because it
appealed to religious prejudices, as well as to the democra¬
tic spirit. The generals seemed to have been regardless of
the solemn rites due to the dead, and of the persons and
feelings of the lower orders of the people. The occasion
therefore furnished abundant topic of invective to the de¬
magogues ; and their addresses too fatally succeeded in ob¬
taining an ungrateful and factious vote of death against the
generals. Socrates was threatened with criminal informa¬
tion by the orators of the people; and the people themselves
were urging on his assailants, and clamouring against him.
Still he remained unmoved, and would not put the unjust
question to the vote; preferring the hazard of bonds and
death to himself, on the side of the law and right, to a com¬
pliance with the popular will in an illegal act.3 The ini¬
quity was perpetrated ultimately in spite of his resistance ;
but he at least did his utmost to prevent it.
Such was his conduct under the ascendancy of the de¬
mocratic power. Afterwards, when the oligarchy was es¬
tablished, and the Thirty were exercising their acts of cruel¬
ty and extortion without restraint, he was the first to give a
check to their tyranny. In their career of confiscation and
blood, they marked out Leon of Salamis for destruction. Socrates.
They conceived that the terror of their power would com-
pel even Socrates to be a ready instrument to their ra¬
pacity ; and they were desirous also doubtless to implicate
him in the criminality of the act. Accordingly, they ap¬
pointed him with four others to go to Salamis, and bring
Leon to Athens, that he might be put to death. They were
disappointed, however, in their expectation, so far as they
depended on Socrates as an instrument in the dark deed.
The order was executed, and the unhappy Leon was sa¬
crificed to their cruel avarice and fears. But Socrates
had no hand in it, and resisted it as far as he could.
Unawed by their stern command, he said nothing, but as
soon as he had left the Tholus, the place where the Thirty
were assembled, he left his four colleagues to proceed on
their bloody errand and went home. He would not, in¬
deed, have dared thus to disobey the order with impunity;
he would surely have felt their vengeance ;—for there is no¬
thing that tyrants resent more than a clemency volunteered
by the ministers of their cruelties,4—but that happily that
reign of terror was soon after put down.
By these intrepid acts, Socrates had shewn that the phi¬
losopher, in declining the contentions of political life, did
not incapacitate himself for his duties when the exigencies
of his situation should require him to perform them.5 As
Thales had proved that the philosopher could, if he pleased,
make money, by applying to that purpose his observations
on the seasons, and his prognostics of an abundant crop of
olives ;6 so did Socrates defend philosophy in his own per¬
son, and by his conduct on these great occasions, against
the imputation of inactivity and selfish ease. It is quite
evident, too, that such a spirit as that displayed in these
remarkable instances, had he entered into political life,
would have subjected him to violent collisions with the
successive leaders of party at Athens. “ You well know,
Athenians,” are the words which Plato’s “Apology” puts
into his mouth, “ that had I long ago attempted to take
part in political affairs, I should long ago have perished,
and I should neither have done you any service nor my¬
self. And be not aggrieved with me for saying the truth.
For there is no one of men that can be safe, in giving a
spirited opposition either to you or to any other popular
government, and in preventing the occurrence of many
unjust and iniquitous things in the state ; but he that would
in reality fight for the right, must, if he would be safe but
a little while, lead a private life and not engage in public
business.”7 “ Think you, indeed,” he further asks, “ that
I should have lived for so many years, had I engaged in
public business; and had I, engaging in it in a manner be¬
coming a good man, succoured the cause of right, and, as
behoved me, made that the thing of greatest consequence ?
Far from it; for neither could any one individual of men.”8
The time, then, appears to have arrived, when the accu¬
sation was brought by Meletus, for his exemplification of the
truth of this observation in his own person. He had hither¬
to avoided the impending storm by the quiet tenour of his
private life. But he had done enough to offend the parti-
zans of either extreme in the state. Both extremes would
be united against him in their enmity to all moderation;
for the ascendancy of such counsels as his, would have
been a death-blow to their own reckless lust of power.
Hence, they were readily disposed to concur in sacrificing
him to their mutual resentments. And we thus behold
v 1 Xenophon, whose own reputation for courage gives a strong sanction to his opinion, says of this act of Socrates, Jjv oux at ol/iai
aX'kov obbsvu uvOguvrov wofLuvai, Mem. iv. 4, p. 208. He alludes in the same place to the story of Leon.
J Thucyd. ii. Pkt. Apol. 28. 3 Plato, Gorgias.
*1,1 r0<*0t’ .^a^a’ 6. Cambyses was glad that his order, given in a moment of passion, to kill Croesus, was not obeyed ; but he
could not forgive those who had ventured to reckon upon his return to better feelings; and he accordingly commands that they should be
executed for their disobedience. J
* Plato, Apol. 32. « Cicero, De Divin. i. 49. » Plato, Apol. 31, 32.
8 Ibid.
SOCRATES.
389
Socrates, the sad spectacle of one who had been the friend of every
^poor man at Athens, no less than of the rich and noble,
requited with prosecution and death by those very hands
conjoined in the unnatural act, which should each have^
warded off the blow, if inflicted by the other. The genius of
Intolerance was indeed behind the scene, mixing the po.-
soned cup for its destined victim. But the actors on the
public stage of the trial were, at the same time, wreaking
their own vengeance on a political opponent; and the more
exasperated against him, in proportion as, by his impel-
turbable demeanour and real inoffensiveness, he seemed
to defy their assaults, and to throw them back on the
consciousness of their injustice and ingratitude towards
him. .
Nor can there be any doubt, that there were many indi¬
viduals, whose pride he had hurt, whose ignorance he had
exposed, whose ill-humour he had irritated, and who, such
is the infirmity of human nature, would rejoice in the op¬
portunity of revenge by the verdict of a public condemna¬
tion of his doctrine. In affronting the sophists by his free
discussions of their pretensions, he had excited, doubtless,
the hostility of many of the higher order of citizens, their
patrons and disciples. Many fathers of families too must
then have been suffering from that corruption of public morals
which, under the teaching of the sophists, had clothed it¬
self with plausibilities of argument, and impudently arro¬
gated, for its vain pretensions, the importance of philoso¬
phy. Disobedient, profligate sons, lifting their hands
against their fathers, and adding bitterness to their unnatu¬
ral rebellion, by the hollow false-hearted principles upon
which they had learned to justify it,—forward, petulant
youths, insulting the dignity of age by their pretensions to
superior wisdom, and their turbulence,—these were the
fruits of sophistical education, which came home to every
family at Athens. Few that felt the evil in their own
homes, would stop to inquire v/hether Socrates was the
teacher whom they had to blame for their suffering. Most
would hastily conclude, that all such instruction of the
voung was pernicious, and their offence at the mischiev¬
ous doctrine of the sophists would become a disgust to phi¬
losophy and philosophers.
Some, indeed, would distinctly trace to Socrates the an¬
noyance which they had experienced from particular indi¬
viduals. There were many who had frequented the society
of Socrates, with no sincere intention of profiting by his
lessons,—who observed his inquisitive manner, and its effect
in convicting and refuting the errors of those with whom
he conversed, and who endeavoured, for their own wan¬
ton gratification, to imitate him in their intercourse with
others. These would take delight in confounding and per¬
plexing others, and exposing and ridiculing their preten¬
sions to wisdom. It is easy to conceive, that the super¬
ficial resemblance to the manner of Socrates in these per¬
sons, and the vexation produced by it, would excite angry
objection against the real method of Socrates.1 These
persons would be pointed at as his disciples. These would
be referred to as instances of the evil tendency of the teach¬
ing of the philosopher himself; the discredit of the spurious
disciples being reflected on the master, to whom it belonged
not in any degree.
It appears, further, as might have been expected, that
the doctrines of Socrates were studiously misrepresented at Socrates,
the time. Allusions or illustrations employed by him in's^^,^^«
his reasonings were constnied into positive opinions on the
subjects to which he thus referred. For example, when,
inculcating honest industry, he quoted Hesiod,2 saying,
“Work there is none that is a scandal, inaction is the scan¬
dal,” the captious absurdly but maliciously interpreted him,
as applying the words of the poet to sanction the doing
every thing, whether right or wrong, for the sake of gain.
When he quoted from Homer the account of Ulysses si¬
lencing the uproar of the people, against the practice of
employing worthless persons in the public service, it was
represented, that he approved the coercing the common
people and the poor by harshness and violence.3 Again,
in urging the. necessity of looking to the qualification ot
those who should be appointed to office, and illustrating
this by the fact, that no one would choose, by lot, a pilot,
or carpenter, or flute-player, or any one, indeed, in mat¬
ters where error was far less mischievous than in poli¬
tics,—he was charged with encouraging contempt of the
established laws, and exciting the young to acts of violence.11
And, (which is the most invidious form of misrepresenta¬
tion), a general charge of corrupting the young was thrown
out against him, unsupported by any specific statements of
the means of corruption Avhich he employed. As in the
polemics of later days, so in the controversy between So¬
crates and his assailants, the obloquy of general hackneyed
terms of reproach was resorted to as the substitute for de¬
finite grounds of imputation. Thus were the off-hand alle¬
gations against all philosophers,—“ that they searched into
the things in the air and the things under the earth, and
rejected all belief in the gods, and made the worse appear
the better reason,”5—used as a cover, on this occasion, to
the envy and malignity which shrank from the light and
the evidence of facts.
The accusation of Meletus, it will be observed, was dis¬
tributed into three heads: 1. Contempt of the established
religion. 2. The introduction of new divinities.6 3. The
corruption of the young. The second of these charges re¬
quires to be more particularly noticed, because it has re¬
ference to a peculiarity in the conduct of Socrates which
gave it a colour of truth.
The mind of Socrates appears to have been deeply im¬
bued with religious feeling. The observation of final causes
particularly excited his interest; so much so, as to lead
him to think that no other account should be attempted to
be given of the phenomena of the world, but as they are the
results of a wise and benevolent design. He delighted thus
in contemplating every thing in a moral and religious point
of view. He thought that the introduction of physical and
mechanical causes into the study of nature, only peiplexed
and misled the mind. He had at first been greatly attract¬
ed by the speculations of Anaxagoras. What won his at¬
tention in the system of this philosopher, was its distinguish¬
ed merit beyond all previous systems, in assigning mind as
the master principle of the universe. But when he came
to study the writings of Aieaxagoras more closely, he was
grievously disappointed, and threw up the system in dis¬
gust. For he found that it lost sight of the grand and true
principle with which it set out, and, after all, constructed the
universe out of mere material and mechanical elements.^
* Xenophon speaks of persons who were pointedly corrected by Socrates, m a iwog zoXa^/ov Inxa rouff M cio^ovg
fidiva/ lewrwv %'ktyyjv. Mem. i. 4. Such persons would bear a grudge against him, as Anytus in particu ar appears to ave one, an
would not be very scrupulous, with this angry feeling dwelling in their minds, as to tbe mode o resenting e a ion .
* Op. 311. depyeir, & t’ 3 Xen0Ph' ” ^ 2\ , .
4 Plato, Euthyphro, 3, 6. for oh xamro[iohrog <SoZ ra duct, ytygavrui raurrp rr,v ypa^r zal ug diaficcXuv drj £/,
to dixocffrrjgiov, ilduig on zvdidjSoXa rd roiavra vohg rovg tto/.ao'jj. Op. i. p. 6.—Xenoph. Mem. i. 2, 9.
6 Athenians preserved the same character at the time of St. Paul in this respect, also, as well in their eagerness after news,
seen in their accusing him of setting forth strange gods. (Acts xvii. 18.) oxj zarayyi eug e/rai.
1 Plato, Phaedo.—Apolog.
SOCRATES.
390
Socrates. He saw, indeed, how futile, as to any real knowledge of the
universe, had been the inquiries of the early philosophers.
As an Athenian, he participated in that general prejudice
against physical science, which Athenians had ignorantly
imbibed against all philosophy, when they characterized it
as idle talk and drivelling dotage. But as a genuine philo¬
sopher, in spite of his Athenian prejudices, he saw and felt
that there was a real moral agency pervading the world;
and he judged that, by observation of this, principles of real
use for the right direction of human life might be discover¬
ed. Tinctured too, as an Athenian, with the superstition of
his countrymen, and at the same time correcting it by his
superior judgment and feeling,hewas disposed to draw every
phenomenon into his moral and religious theory of the uni¬
verse. To stop to inquire into any thing whether it might
be explained on simple natural causes, or to doubt its mo¬
ral design, would appear to his mind as sceptical and pro¬
fane. Hence, we see at once displayed in him the common
character of the Athenian, in his dislike of physical science,
and his susceptibility of superstitious influences from the
most trivial things; and, on the other hand, the wisdom and
religiousness of the true philosopher, in his constant devout
disposition to refer all things to a providential design and
moral agency.
It is well known how anxiously the heathens watched
the most minute circumstances, not only in their reli¬
gious rites, but in the actions of daily life, as intimations
of the will of the gods. Not only dreams and visions, but
flights of birds, the meeting any particular object, sneezing,
a voice, or any sound, and the like trivial things, were re¬
garded with seriousness and awe. Socrates felt the mystic
influence of such incidents; only he thought more deeply
on them than the generality, and that,—not with the vulgar
emotions of fear or of hope, according as the omen might
be interpreted,—but with calm and pious reference to the
benevolent design which he attributed to them as divine
intimations. Further, not only did he apply this sentiment
to the outward circumstances of daily life ; but he also took
into his view the state of his own mind. He conceived
that he received at times mysterious signs distinctly percep¬
tible to himself, not indeed of any positive good to be ex¬
pected from a particular course of conduct, but of precau¬
tion,—warnings against evil concerning others as well as
himself. These presages he interpreted,—or others perhaps,
taking his account of his impressions in too literal a manner,
have so represented it,—as a voice addressed to him on each
occasion. Instances too, are alleged in which this divine
voice was the means of saving him and those who obeyed
its direction, from danger. In the retreat of the Athenians
after the unfortunate battle at Delium, it is said to have
prevented his taking a particular road, and thus saved him,
together with Alcibiades and Laches, from being pursued
and overtaken by the enemy; whilst others taking another
way were overtaken and slain.1 This circumstance, ac¬
cording to Plutarch, was a great occasion of the fame at
Athens of the “ demonion,”—or “ genius,” as it was call¬
ed by Latin writers,—of Socrates.2 * To this voice is attri¬
buted his active devotion of his life to the moral reform of
his countrymen by private and personal addresses to them,
and his refraining at the same time from all political exer¬
tion.
The name of a particular daemonion, or genius, was evi¬
dently not assigned by Socrates himself to these extraordi¬
nary presages, while he confidently declared their reality.
It was rather the misconstruction of the vulgar, and of his
assailants, interpreting what he affirmed generally of divine Socrates,
intimations, as assertions of the presence of some particular
divinity ascertained by his own convictions, and distinct from
the gods worshipped at Athens. Heathens were incapable
of forming a notion of the Deity, but as a local and tutelary
god. They could not rise to the sublime conception of the
one universal Being, to 8ai/j.6inov, the God in all the world,
than whom there is none else. In the view of Socrates, this
belief in a presaging voice addressed to his private ear, was
nothing more than an extension of the prophetic science,
or divination of the heathen world, to practical purposes,
and to the cultivation of religious feelings.
It must be remembered, that the Athenians had their
augurs or prophets among the regular officers of the re¬
public, without whose presence no matter of public coun¬
sel or of war was ever transacted. These were the recog¬
nized interpreters of the divine will. But Socrates claimed
a special authority for the presages with which he was
peculiarly favoured, and thus seemed to innovate on the
science, and encroach on the established forms, of divination.
He enjoined, indeed, a devout reference to the Delphic
oracle, in all questions of hazardous conduct, teaching that,
whilst human reason was the guide in all matters of human
power, in those, on the contrary, which were out of human
power, as the future event of actions, resort should be had
to every means offered for exploring the will of the gods.
He professed to have adopted his own course of life on the
evidence of such communications. He advised Xenophon
to consult the Delphic oracle, as to whether he should do
well in accepting the invitation of Proxenus to join the ex¬
pedition of Cyrus.0 But with this reverence for the re¬
cognized sources of divine information, he combined a sus¬
picion of the pretenders to prophecy, who were counte¬
nanced by the popular superstition,—the Beofiuvreci and xPW~
ficodoi,—who abounded at Athens.4 He relied rather on the
sagacious auguries of his own mind, drawn from observa¬
tion of some passing incident, or some rapid conclusion re¬
specting the consequences of actions—a kind of intuitive
judgment and forecaste, mingling and confounding itselfwith
his religious impressions,—a second hearing, as it were,—a
perception of a voice unperceived by the common ear, mys¬
teriously telling of danger to come from some particular
course of conduct. Thus was a pretext given to his enemies
to say, that he introduced “ new divinities;” whilst public
opinion tolerated the grossest pretensions to divine revela¬
tions, and a system of mercenary imposture founded on
them. Public opinion upheld the system of divination as it
existed, with its external array of augurs, and prophets, and
ceremonial. Socrates, on the contrary, led every man to
consult the will of the Deity, not without devout preparation
in the inward recesses of his own mind, nor without refer¬
ence to his own obedience and moral improvement.5 Super¬
stition, doubtless, strongly tinctured his notions of religious
duty. This made him construe many things into divine in¬
timations, which were frivolous and irrelevant. Still he rose
above the superstition of the popular divination, in the per¬
sonal piety which laid hold of each occasion for its exercise
and cultivation, and taught men to regard the Divinity as in¬
terested in the protection of the good, and ever present to
the words, and actions, and even the silent thoughts of men.6
Xenophon appears to have faithfully stated the difference
between the popular divination and that professed by So¬
crates, in the following account: “ He introduced nothing
new beyond others who, acknowledging the reality of di¬
vination, make use of omens, and voices, and objects pre-
1 Plutarch, de Socr. Gen. 298. Cicer. de Divin. i. 54. 2 Ibid. p. 299.
* Xenoph. Anab. iii. I, 4. 4 Plato, Apol. 22. c. p. 51.
* Plato, Alcib. ii. 150, p. 99. Ka'i yap 8eivov e’lTj, ei vrpos Tn 8S>pa Kai dvaias dnofiXenovcriv rjp.<ov 6i deal, dXAa ufi irpbs tip
i'vxvv, av ns ba-ios xal 8Uaios, k. t. X.
Xen. Mem. i. 1, 19. Ka/ yap hupeXfiaSai Qeovs ivop.i£ev dvOp&nratv, ovx bv rponov 01 ttoXXoi vopi^ovcriv, k.t.X.
I
SOCRATES.
391
Socrates, sented on the way, and sacrifices. For these do not con-
ceive, that the bh'ds, and the persons that meet them, know
what is expedient to those who divine by them, but that
the gods, by means of them, signify this. And so he held.
But the generality say, that they are dissuaded and persuad¬
ed by the birds, and the objects that meet them; whereas
Socrates spoke of it as he thought. For he said that it
was the Divinity, to daifj.6viou, that gave signs to him. And
to many of his intimates he prescribed to do some things,1
to forbear other things, on .the ground, that the Divinity
had presignified it to him; and it was to the advantage of
those who took his advice, whilst those who rejected his
advice had to repent it.”2
But how great was the change from the practical devo¬
tion of the mind here taught by Socrates, from that popu¬
larly entertained at Athens! The history ol divination, as
it was regarded, not at Athens only, but throughout Greece,
is but a picture of the invidiousness and malignity ol the
human heart transformed into attributes of the Divine Be¬
ing. Let us only hear Solon, as he is described by Hero¬
dotus, speaking of the Deity as a principle of envy and tur¬
bulence, and as guided by no fixed course in the disposition
of human affairs; and we may judge what a task he had en-
terprized, who entered into conflict with this inward and
subtile idolatry of human passions, established by the heathen
system of divination. It was indeed teaching divinities new
to Athenian ears, when Socrates inculcated an inward re¬
formation of the character of those who would look for the
favour of the gods, or expect a special interposition and di¬
rection from the benevolent principle which guided the
course of the moral world.
Whereas, too, the popular divination was employed on the
most trivial occasions, and made the substitute for the proper
exertion of men’s faculties on matters cognizable by them,
Socrates differed from this prevalent notion of the subject.
He contended, that, where the line of conduct was plain,
men should use the best of their judgment in acting,—that
they should use their experience and reason in learning
what the gods had given them to learn by such means, and
only have resort to consultation of the Divine will by the
extraordinary means of divination, where the results of con¬
duct were uncertain. Thus might he be construed as dis¬
suading men from the use of divination, when he only dis¬
suaded from an improper use of it, and exhorted to a ra¬
tional activity.
We may see from the story of Aristodicus of Cyme, how
the practice existed among the Greeks, of endeavouring to
obtain from the oracles sanctions even to iniquities and im¬
pieties. Aristodicus consults the oracle whether he may sur¬
render an unhappy fugitive; and the oracle permits him, dex¬
terously reproving, by the very permission, the attempt to
cast the burthen of personal responsibility on the oracle itself,
and to cover an immoral act with the veil of religious
duty.3 Divination, in fact, was indolently resorted to in
the heathen world, to relieve the mind of the labour and
anxiety of thought, and the searchings of conscience. And
Socrates addressed himself to the correction of this prac¬
tice, by recommending, as we have seen, exertion of the
judgment, and the acquisition of information on all matters
within the sphere of human reason. He would thus pro¬
voke the hostility of many a professed diviner, who made
a trade of his art, and would find individuals of this class
ready to join in the outcry raised against him, of innovation
on the popular theology.
The jealousy of the sophists in particular, the very class Socrates,
with whom the accusation of Meletus identified him, would
also swell the popular envy against him on this head. For
the sophists, among their pretensions, claimed to be regard¬
ed as endued with a predictive sagacity, so as to be expert
practical guides respecting the future.4 Socrates would of¬
fend them in this point in two ways,—both as directing per¬
sons to have recourse to their own judgment, and the regular
means of information on all ordinary questions to which
human reason was competent; and as teaching a reference
to a secret divine intimation on all other matters beyond
the compass of man’s understanding. For in both respects
would the sophists find their course interfered with. The
use of men’s own judgment, or the appeal to the signs of
the Divine will, would equally lessen the value for those
counsels which they pretended to impart.
What added still further to this invidious feeling was,
that the reputation of Socrates now eclipsed theirs through¬
out Greece. And Socrates appears himself confidently to
have appealed to this public estimation of his character
against the partial censures of his countrymen at the time
of his trial. He vindicated his assertion of divine intimations
specially granted to him, by referring to the oracle of Delphi
as having honoured him with its distinct approbation. Chse-
rephon, in the devoutness of his admiration of his master,
had, on some occasion, consulted the oracle respecting him,
and obtained an answer that Socrates was the wisest of men.
The authenticity of the anecdote has been questioned. But
the introduction of it in the two “Apologies,”5 maybe taken
as a voucher of its substantial truth. It at any rate shews
the favourable opinion which had been conceived of him
out of Athens itself; that, as Lycurgus had been compli¬
mented by the verdict of an oracle, so the same tribute of
public applause might, with equal probability, be assigned to
Socrates.
According to Laertius, the sentence of condemnation
was carried by a majority consisting of 281 votes. The
number wras little more than sufficient to decide the ques¬
tion on that side; for it only exceeded the number of votes
ol' acquittal by three. “ Had but three votes only fallen
differently,” says Socrates himself, in the “ Apology” of
Plato, “ I should have been acquitted.” Nor, indeed,
would Meletus alone, without the aid of Anytus and Lycon,
(he is made there confidently to declare) have obtained even
a fifth part of the votes to save him the penalty of a thou¬
sand drachmas, affixed by the law to an unsustained pro¬
secution. But when the penalty of death was further put
to the vote, and he was found unwilling to propose the sub¬
stitution of any other penalty, such as a fine or exile, but
evinced his indignant contempt of their unjust sentence,
by asking rather, in his ironical way, instead of even a slight
punishment, the highest honour of the state, that of a pub¬
lic maintenance in the Prytaneum, the multitude of the
jurors was so exasperated by the unbending spirit thus dis¬
played, that eighty additional votes were given on the hos¬
tile side, determining the sentence of death. So evidently
was the whole case ruled by passion and the arts of de¬
magogues exciting the people to treat it as a slight on their
majesty, rather than as a cause in a court of justice. Other¬
wise it could not have happened, that when the previous
question of guilt had been carried with nearly an equal
number of dissentients, the severest penalty should have
obtained such an accession of voices in its favour.
We have already remarked the little solicitude shewn by
1 Xenophon here differs from Plato’s Apology, in saying, that Socrates received intimations of what was to be done; whereas
Plato expressly says the directions were only negative.
Xenoph. Mem. i. 1,3, p. 3. Xenoph. Apol. 13, eyw 8e tovto Sainoviov naka.
3 Herodotus, Clio. c. 158, 159. The same is illustrated in the story of Glaucus in Erato, c. 86. The oracles were consulted, also, on
frivolous matters, such as the petty thefts of Amasis. Euterpe, c. 174.
4 Isocr. c. Soph. 2, 4, vrepi rcov [jlcWovtcqv fiev flbevai npocnroiov^evovs-
i Xenoph. Apol. p. 249. Plato, Apol. p. 48.
SOCRATES.
392
Socrates. Socrates in regard to his defence from the accusation. As
v y he strongly disapproved the affected artificial rhetoric of
his times, and the practice of appealing to the passions
against the judgment of the hearer, so neither would he
study beforehand what he should say on the occasion of
his trial. Twice had he essayed (he observes to Hermoge-
nes) to consider what he should say in his defence, and
as often had he been prevented by those secret divine in¬
timations to which he habitually referred his conduct.' Nor
again would he receive the preferred services of friends in
pleading his cause. The celebrated orator Lysias com¬
posed an oration for this purpose. On reading it, he ex¬
pressed his admiration of it, but declined it as unsuitable
to him. When Lysias wondered that he could admire it,
and yet say it was unsuitable, he observed, in his usual
manner of illustration, by an apposite case; “ Would not also
fine coats and shoes be unsuitable to me?” Plato, however,
it is said, could not be restrained from appearing in his be¬
half, and made an effort to address the court. But the up¬
roar was so great, that on his uttering the words, “ ascend
the bema,” he was met with the cry, “ descend,” and forced
to abandon the attempt.1 2
So neither, again, would he resort to those appliances to
the feelings which were usual in the Athenian courts. The
Athenian juryman expected that the defendant should come
before him in the character of a suppliant, and entreat his
clemency rather than claim his justice. He was to be as¬
sailed with prayers and tears, no less than with arguments
addressed to his understanding. But Socrates would not
condescend to these methods of persuasion. He would not
produce his wife and children in the court, to excite com¬
passion, or bring forward his connexions and friends to in¬
tercede in his behalf. He felt it unbecoming in him at
his age, and with his reputation as a philosopher, to suppli¬
cate for his life. It would have given to his whole previous
demeanour the appearance of insincerity and hypocrisy. It
would have shewn that dread of death, against which all his
teaching had been directed.3 It would have been an evi¬
dence that he disregarded the sanctity of religion, in trying to
influence his jurors to decide by favour against their oaths,
and so far would have substantiated the charge of Meletus
against him.'4 For the same reason, he had refused to offer
to submit to a mitigated penalty, when challenged, accord¬
ing to the practice in the Athenian courts, to propose his
own estimate of the offence. Afterwards, indeed, he sof¬
tened this bold vindication of his merits, by adding, in the
same ironical manner, that he could perhaps pay the fine of
a mina of silver, and would therefore fix that amount of da¬
mages; or that as Plato, Crito, Critobulus, and Apollodo-
rus, suggested the sum of thirty minae, and would be good
sureties for the payment, he would fix the latter amount.5
To have seriously proposed any such estimate would, in his
opinion, have been an admission of his guilt.6
He displayed throughout the trial, the same calm and
cheerful temper which characterized his ordinary behaviour.
There were in his manner, even at that solemn crisis, touches
of the same ironical humour, the same half-earnest, half-play¬
ful strokes of argumentative attack, which had given so much
interest and point to his daily familiar conversations; and
when the trial was over, he evinced no further emotion than
the indignation of a sincere and honest man. at the malici¬
ous and mischievous arts by which the result had been ac¬
complished. He was sustained by the consciousness that
no crime had been proved against him; whilst his assailants
must feel the reproaches of conscience for the real im¬
piety and iniquity of which they had been guilty; some Socrates,
for having instigated others to bear false witness against
him; some for having themselves borne this false witness.
The disgrace of the condemnation fell not on him, he as¬
serted, but on those who had passed such a sentence. He
consoled himself with the thought, that it was the will of
the Deity, and it was best for him now to die; that, though
condemned by his present judges, like another Palamedes,
he should receive from posterity that verdict of approbation
which was withheld from Ulysses, to whose successful plot
the life of that chief was sacrificed.7 Availing himself also of
the prophetic power which the popular beliefattributed to the
words of a dying man, he warned his countrymen, as he left
the court, that they were embarked in a course which must
involve them in bitter repentance.8 He concluded his ad¬
dress with the following striking admonition: “ I have only
this request to make. As for my sons, when they shall
have grown up, punish them, I pray you, by troubling them
in the same manner in which I have been in the habit of
troubling you, if they appear to you to concern themselves
either with money or any thing else in preference to vir¬
tue. And if they would seem to be something when they
are nothing, reproach them as I do you, that they take no
concern about what they ought, and think themselves to be
something when they are nothing. And if you do this, I
shall have suffered justice at your hands, both myself and
my sons. But it is now time to depart; for me to die, for
you to live; but which of us is going to a better thing is
uncertain to every one, except only to the Deity.”9
In his way from the court to the prison to which he
was now consigned, he was observed with eye and mien
and step composed, in perfect unison with his previous
address. On perceiving some of those who accompanied
him, weeping, “ Why is this,” he said; “ is it now that you
weep ? did you not long ago know, that, from the moment
of my birth, the sentence of death had been decreed against
me by nature? If, indeed, I were perishing beforehand
in the midst of blessings flowing in upon me, it would be
plain that I and my kind friends would have to grieve; but
if I terminate my life at a time when troubles are expected,
for my part I think you ought all to be in good heart, as feel¬
ing that I am happy.”10 Apollodorus, whoes admiration of his
master amounted to an amiable weakness, complained to
him of the great hardship of his suffering by an unjust sen¬
tence. Acknowledging the affectionate feeling thus shewn to
him in a familiar manner, by passing his hand over the head
of his attached disciple, he, at the same time, gently reprov¬
ed him, saying, “ Would you then, my dear Apollodorus,
rather see me dying justly than unjustly?” and smiled at
the question. On seeing Anytus pass by, he could not for¬
bear, it is said, the expression of a strong censure on the
conduct of that individual towards his own son. He fore¬
told, what the unhappy result proved too true, that the
heart of Anytus would one day be embittered by the evil
fruits of that low and unworthy education to which, with
mercenary views, he had subjected his son, a young man
with whom the philosopher had formerly conversed, and
who had seemed destined for better things.
The execution of Socrates, by the poisoned cup, would
have followed immediately on his condemnation, but for the
peculiar circumstances under which the trial had taken
place. It was after the commencement of the Delian festi¬
val; an annual commemoration, of the safe return of The¬
seus and his devoted companions to Athens, from the fatal
labyrinth of Crete, and the acquittal thenceforth of the
1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 8. "Ec/^ yap MfXtVou yeypap.fitvov avrbv rr)v ypa(prjv, avrbs clkovvv abrov ttuvtci paWov rj ntpi rtjs
ouerjs otaXeyopevov Xtyfiv avTco, tbs xpr) CTKoneiv b tl aTtoXoyrjaerai, k. t. X. and Apol. 2, et sqq-
* Diog. Laert. in vit. Socr. 3 Plato, Apol. Op. i. p. 79. 4 Ibid. p. 82.
6 ri]at0’ -^P0!- 38 b. Op. i. p. 88. 6 Xenoph. Apol. p. 23, KtXfvopcvos xmonpaaQai.
* Pla:o, Apol. ^ 9 Plato Apol. ad fin.
' Xenoph. Apol. 24.
10 Xenoph. Apol. 27.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, bloody tribute exacted by Minos, by the mission of a vessel to
Delos with sacrifices to Apollo, and other religious rites.
When the priest of Apollo had once crowned the stern of
the sacred vessel with the festive garland, it was not law¬
ful to pollute the city by a public execution, until the so¬
lemn pomp should have been performed, and the vessel had
returned. This ceremony had been performed only the day
before the trial of Socrates. Thus he obtained the respite
of thirty days between his trial and execution.
These were days of high interest and importance not on¬
ly to his sorrowing friends, but to the c^use of that admir¬
able practical philosophy which all his previous life had in¬
culcated. During this time he employed himself in literary
exercises which he had never practised before. He com-
poscd a poem in honour of the god Apollo, whose festival
was then in course of celebration. And feeling a religious
scruple as to whether by the general pursuit of philosophy,
he had fully complied with the suggestions of dreams re¬
peatedly urging him, as he said, to “ cultivate music,” he
nowapplied himself to the fulfilmentof this supposed charge,
by turning the fables of ASsop into verse.1 But these were
only pastimes illustrative of the serenity of his mind. Now,
too, in his prison, with the chains on his body, and the near
prospect of a violent death, he could discourse with an unan¬
swerable cogency and eloquence of argument, of the vanity
of human things, and the real happiness of man, as consist¬
ing in the cultivation of the spiritual and immortal princi-
ples of his nature. He had professed his whole life to be a
meditation or discipline of death. He now had the oppor¬
tunity.—which, as a philosopher, (could the voice of natural
instinct have been silenced,) he would most have desired,—
of realizing, by his own example, that death to which his
thoughts and pursuits had been studiously directed. Un¬
like his successors in the schools of the Stoics, he did not
aiivocatc a doctrine of suicide, however he depreciated the
importance of human life. With that good sense which re¬
strained his religion and his philosophy from running into
fanaticism, he held it to be impious in any one to release
himself, by his own hand, from that post of duty in which the
Deity had placed him.2 Though, however, he had not
courted death, or rashly placed himself in the way of it, he
felt that, in the circumstances in which he was now placed,
he was called to go through this last act of his philosophic
profession. He seems, indeed, to have rejoiced in the op¬
portunity thus afforded him of summing up his philosophy in
one great principle, from which every observation and ar¬
gument, in the course of previous teaching, had been drawn,
by demonstrating, so far as reason could avail to demonstrate
the fact, the absolute and eternal existence of the great
principles of moral truth. The occasion was one which
the genius of Plato would not fail to seize as most felicitous
for the development of its own enthusiastic and transcen¬
dental view of the philosophy of Socrates. Plato, according¬
ly, has, in that most exquisite of his Dialogues, the Phaedo,
invited us to the couch of Socrates, on the last sad morning
of his imprisonment, to listen to the philosopher, with the
chill of death almost upon him, discoursing on the immor¬
tality of the soul. The affectionate and eloquent disciple
doubtless shed natural tears over his dying master But he
wished also to elevate his own philosophy to the dignity of
being the dying confession of the great sage of Athens.
And hewished, further, that his own philosophy should speak,
as it were, the funeral oration over him to whom it was in¬
debted for its earliest inspirations, and pour its own libation
on his tomb. Thus he has especially elaborated the last
scene of his master’s life, and made us contemplate with
tlie deepest interest the death of Socrates, not only as an act
393
of heroic self-devotion and patient martyrdom to the truth, Socrates,
taught by the great sage himself, but as a splendid episode
in the dramatic development of his own philosophy.
During his imprisonment, Socrates was not denied the
solace of receiving his friends, and conversing with them day
after day. Early each morning might be seen a company
of devoted friends, whom nothing could separate from him,
assembled at the hall of justice, where the trial had taken
place, and which was close to the prison, watching for the
jailor to open the gate and admit them. Being admitted,
they would commonly remain with him in the prison un¬
til evening, engaged in earnest and instructive conversa¬
tion. His wife and children, too, appear to have been
constantly with him.3 He was importuned by these affec¬
tionate followers to suffer them to effect his escape. Crito
earnestly entreated him to be allowed to execute a plan
which he had concerted for rescuing him. Simmias, the
Theban, also brought a sum of money with him to Athens
for that purpose. Cebes and others were equally ready with
their resources. They argued, that, so far from being at a
loss what to do with himself out of Athens, as he had said
on his trial, they could ensure him friends in Thessaly, and
many other places, who would most gladly welcome him, and
protect him. But to none of these importunities would he
yield. He answered, that, while he highly estimated their
kindness, he was pledged to obey reason only, and that he
saw no ground in his present circumstances for taking a dif¬
ferent view of his case. As for the duty of providing for
his children, by preserving his own life,—a consideration
which Crito appears to have strongly pressed on him,— this
was not now a matter for him to consider;—it was for those
to consider, who, as his Athenian judges, treated life and
death as such light concerns; for his part, he must look
simply to what was right or wrong to be done.4 Thus stea¬
dily and calmly did he persevere in his resolution of await¬
ing the utmost extremity.
At length it was announced that the Theoric galley had
been seen off Sunium, and might very shortly be expected
to arrive at Athens. Crito proceeded in anxious haste to
the prison, and being well-known to the jailor from his
frequent visits there, obtained admission at a very early hour.
He found Socrates asleep, and sat by him in silence, won¬
dering to see him sleep so soundly in so much trouble, un¬
til he at length awoke to receive the fatal intelligence.
This he received with the same composure as if it had been
some ordinary communication. His only answer to Crito
was, that he was quite resigned to the will of the gods, if
it were so, but that he was persuaded by a dream, from
which he had just waked, that the vessel would not come
that day, but the following one. His reliance on dreams
as divine intimations, has been already mentioned. He told
Crito, accordingly, of his having dreamed that a woman
of noble form, clothed in white, came to him and called
him, and said to him in the words of Homer,5 “ On the
third day to deep-soiled Pthia thou shall come.” The event,
at any rate, accorded with his expectation from the dream.
On the morrow the vessel reached the harbour of Piraeus;
and the following day was appointed for the execution.
By the dawn of that day, the sorrowing party again met
at the accustomed place, and were informed by the jailor, that
the Eleven,—the officers who superintended the public exe¬
cutions,—had given orders that the chains should be taken
off, and that Socrates should die on that day. After being
kept waiting some time, they went in and found the philo¬
sopher already loosed from his chains, and sittingon the couch,
with Xanthippe and his youngest child in her arms, by his
side. By his desire they conduct her home, the kind Crito
Plato, Phaedo. p. 60 d. et sqq. 2 Plato, Phaedo, p- 61, c. ’Ov fiev ’la-cos /Bido-erai dvrov. ov yap (paal dtucTov hvai.
^ Plato, Phaedo. p. 60 a. Op. i. p. 135. 4 Plato Crito, p. 48, c. Op. i. p. 111.
H/iari Kev TpiraTco tyOirjv eplficoiXov Ikoio.
VOL. XX. 3 D
SOCRATES.
394
Socrates, entrusting her to the care of his attendants, amidst cries of
passionate grief, which had broken forth from her afresh at
the sight of them now come to bid their last farewell. The
occasion naturally leads to the conversation whichfollows ;
a discussion, according to Plato, on the immortality of the
soul,—Socrates interrogating and arguing with all his wont¬
ed vivacity ; whilst the party around him answer and listen
with eager interest, and, as may naturally be conceived,
with undescribable sensations of mingled delight and pain.
Crito would have dissuaded him from this exertion; for he
feared, from what he had been told by the executioner,
that the heat of the body thus produced, would add to his
discomfort in his last moments, by rendering the effects of
the poison more lingering. He only observed, that “ it
mattered not; the executioner should only be ready to do
his duty, and mix the draught twice, or even thrice over,
if it should be found necessary.”1
The discourse being brought to a close, he rose to pro¬
ceed to the bath, as an immediate preparation for his death;
w'hen Crito detained him for a while, to ask his last com¬
mands about his children, or any other matter in which their
services might gratify him. He replied, “ that he had no¬
thing new to say beyond what he had ever been saying,—
that by attending to themselves, they would most gratify
him and his, as well as themselves, in all they might do,
though they might even make no promise now; but that if
they neglected themselves, and were unwilling to follow in
the track pointed out in all that he had said to them up to
this last occasion, all that they could do would be of no
avail, however much, and however earnestly, they might
promise at the present moment.”2 Crito assented to this
advice, but in his eagerness still to do some act of kindness
to his revered friend, subjoined, “ But in what way are we
to bury you?” This mode of speaking of his burial, gives
occasion to a very characteristic reproof from him, of this
solicitude on the part of Crito. “ As you please,” was his
answer; “ if at least you can take me, and I do not escape
from you.” Then gently smiling, and looking off to the
surrounding company, he added, I cannot, my friends,
persuade Crito, that I am the Socrates that is now convers¬
ing, and ordering every thing that has been said; but he
thinks that I am that man whom he will shortly see a corpse,
and asks how you should bury me. But what I have all
along been talking so much about,—that when I shall have
drunk the poison, I shall no longer stay with you, but shall,
forsooth, go away to certain felicities of the blest,—this I seem
to myself to have been saying in vain, whilst comforting at
the same time you and myself. Bail me therefore, to
Crito the opposite bail to that which he bailed me to the
judges; for he was bail for my staying; but do you be bail
for my not staying when dead, but going away ; that Crito
may bear it more easily, and may not feel aggrieved for
me, as if I were suffering something dreadful, wrhen he sees
my body either burning, or being interred ; nor may say at
the burial, that he lays out, or carries out, or inters Socrates.
For,” he continued, turning himself again to Crito, “ be as¬
sured, excellent Crito, that the speaking improperly is not
only wrong in itself, but also produces some evil in the soul.
However, take courage, and say that you are burying my
body; and bury it as may be agreeable to you, and in the
manner you may hold most lawful.”3
He then went into another apartment to bathe, Crito fol¬
lowing him, whilst the rest of the party awaited his return.
After bathing, he received his children,—two of whom were
yet little ones, the third a youth,—and the females of his
family. Having conversed some time with these in the
presence of Crito, and given them his final commands, he
dismissed them, and came out again to the assembled
friends. This affecting interview had occupied a con¬
siderable time, and when he returned, it was near sunset. Socrates.
He had not long sat down, when the officer of the Eleven
presented himself, and respectfully intimated to him that
the fatal moment was at hand. The noble and gentle de¬
meanour of the philosopher during his imprisonment had
won upon this man ; and used as he had been to the scenes
of execration and horror within those walls, he was struck
by the contrast in the case of Socrates, and bursting into
tears as he gave his message, turned himself away, and re¬
tired. Socrates himself was touched by this demonstration
of considerate feeling. He cordially returned the saluta¬
tion, promising a ready compliance with the order. Then
addressing the company, he observed, “ How courteous the
man is! through all the time he would come to me, and
would converse with me sometimes, and was the best of
men ; and now how generously does he weep for me !” He
then called for the poisoned cup. Crito’s affection would
still have delayed it, for he urged that the sun was not yet
gone down, and that others on the like occasions had not
used such despatch, but had supped and drunk beforehand
as they pleased. Socrates answered that this might be rea¬
sonable for others; for him it was reasonable not to do so;
and persisted in requiring the cup to be brought. The pro¬
cess of bruising the hemlock took some time ; but at length
the man who was to administer the poison came with it now
ready for the draught. He calmly inquired what he was to
do ; and, being told that he was pnly to walk about after
drinking it, until he found a heaviness in the legs, and then
to lie down, he took the cup into his hand without the slight¬
est change of colour or of countenance. But before he put
it to his lips, partly, it seems, from religious feeling, and
partly in humour, he further asked whether he might make
a libation to any one from the cup. Nor did even his usual
quaint manner of putting a question, which he knew would
somewhat surprise the hearer, forsake him on this occasion;
for he looked at the man, at the same time, with that pecu¬
liar glance usual to him, which his contemporaries jocosely
designated by a word denoting its resemblance to the man¬
ner in which the bull glares around him with the head down¬
ward. Learning that the whole draught wTas not more than
sufficient for the fatal purpose, he said, “ At any rate one
may, and ought to pray to the gods, that the migration hence
to those regions may be prosperous; which indeed I do pray,
and so may it be !” With these words, he drank off the poi¬
son with the most perfect composure and readiness.
At the sight of this, the bystanders could no longer
command their emotions. Their tears flowed profusely.
Some rose up from their seats,—Crito set the example,—
and covered their faces, to give vent to their sorrow. Apol-
lodorus sobbed aloud. He gently expostulated with them
for this outbreak of grief, saying, “ What are you doing, my
friends, so strangely ? I indeed sent away the women not
least on this account, that they might not offend in such a
way; for I have heard that one ought to die amidst auspi¬
cious sounds: I pray you, therefore, be tranquil, and bear
up.” This rebuke had the effect of repressing their tears.
The heaviness which he had been led to expect from the
w orking of the poison now began to come on, and he left
off walking, and reclined, with his face upward, and covered
over. The torpor gradually spread towards the upper re¬
gions of the body,—the lower parts becoming, one after the
other, congealed, and insensible,—until it reached the heart.
In this interval, he uncovered himself, and said, “ Crito, we
owe a cock to Esculapius; pay it, I pray you, and neglect
it not;” intimating probably that now all the diseases of life
were healed, and that fie was restored to real and pure ex¬
istence by the death of the body. These were his last words.
Crito asked whether he had any thing more to say, but re¬
ceived no answer. There was no further indication of life,
Plato, Phaedo, p. 63, d. et sqq.
* Ibid. p. 115, a. et sqq.
3 Ibid.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, but a motion of the body. The executioner uncovered
"v^-'liim, and they observed his eyes fixed; upon which Crito,
faithful in the last respectful attentions to his beloved friend,
the now departed philosopher, closed the mouth and the
eyes.
Thus died Socrates, when he had now completed his se¬
ventieth year, n.c. 400, or 399, in the full Vigour of a
healthy old age ; happy in his own estimation, and in that
of his admiring disciples, in having terminated his life in so
glorious a manner, with unimpaired faculties of mind and
body, and after a defence sustained with so much truth, and
justice, and fortitude.1
His death spread dismay at the moment among those
who had been most conspicuous in their attachment to the
philosopher, as they naturally dreaded the overflowings of
that malignant spirit which had swept down their master.
The chief of these appear to have fled to Megara, where they
could reckon on finding a refuge from Athenian hostility?
and a home with their fellow-disciple, the friendly Euclid.
It is remarkable, however, that Isocrates, timid as he was
by nature, should not have scrupled to remain at Athens,
and to testify his affectionate regret for his master, by ap¬
pearing the next day in public, clothed in mourning.2 But
with the fall of its great victim, the spirit of persecution
was sated for a time. An act had been perpetrated, to which
the eyes of all Greece would be intently turned ; and the
greatness of the sacrifice seems at the moment to have absorb¬
ed the attention of its agents and instruments, in the contem¬
plation of it and its possible effects. If we may believe the
representation of subsequent writers, shame and repentance
soon followed the cruel act; and those who were most osten¬
sibly involved in its guilt, were either banished or sentenced
to death, or laid violent hands on themselves. Of the banish¬
ment of Anytus, and the death of Meletus, we are told by
Laertius, that Antisthenes was the immediate cause. In
what way he was instrumental to the death of Meletus, is
not stated. But with regard to Anytus, Antisthenes is said
to have occasioned his banishment, apparently without the
intention of doing so, by a stroke of practical humour. For
meeting with some young men from Pontus, inquiring for
Socrates, whose fame had induced them to visit Athens, he
conducted them to Anytus, who, as he observed to them,
was “ wiser than Socrates upon which, the indignation of
the bystanders was excited, and they drove Anytus forth
from the city.3 He fled to Heraclea ; but there found no
peace, being forced by public proclamation to leave the city
forthwith.4 Though, however, these individuals soon after
received the retribution due to their offence, it would not
follow that they suffered from their countrymen on ac¬
count of the part they had taken against Socrates. The
ascendancy of another political faction, (and Athens was
ever fluctuating between contending parties), would be
quite sufficient to account for their overthrow and despera¬
tion. On the other hand, the testimony of Plutarch is ex¬
plicit to the point, though he mentions no individuals by
name, that the sycophants who had assailed Socrates be¬
came the objects of popular hatred to such a degree, that
none would associate with them in any way, not even to
return them an answer when addressed by them, and that
at last they hanged themselves, being no longer able to
endure the public execration.5 His friends, indeed, per¬
formed the last obsequies to his remains; but his fellow-
citizens afterwards concurred in honouring him, by erecting
a brazen statue of him, the work of Lysippus, in the Pom-
395
peium, and expressing their sorrow, by closing the public Socrates,
gymnasia for a while. 1
This at any rate is certain, that persecution, as it ever
does, overwrought its part in the case of Socrates. It op¬
pressed, indeed, the individual, but it gave the seal of mar¬
tyrdom to the cause in which he had been engaged. It
produced a temporary intimidation, under which men would
hear less of the name and teaching of Socrates openly
avowed, but throughout which the admiration and love of the
heroic philosopher would be cherished in secret, and his
doctrine would be fostered in the shade, to appear in the
sunshine of a future day. If the Athenians had desired to
plant the root of philosophy in their city, they could not
more effectually have done so, than by their violence against
Socrates. Such, in fact, was the result. Philosophy hence¬
forth obtained an Athenian naturalization and name ; and
the schools of Athens may date their period of nearly a
thousand years from this memorable act, which, in its in¬
tent and spirit, fiercely but blindly endeavoured to extin¬
guish there the very profession of philosophy.0
The cause, however, in which Socrates had been en¬
gaged, was too true, for any opposition to it, though con¬
ducted with the greatest prudence, to have been long suc¬
cessful. It had also already advanced too far, and interest¬
ed too many persons in the maintenance of it, to be put
dowm by a sudden blow. The burning of a book, or a for¬
mal condemnation of the opinions of a writer, are but fu¬
tile means, as experience shewrs, of suppressing obnoxious
doctrines. How much less could opposition avail, where,
as in the case of Socrates, the offending doctrines had been
scattered over, not the pages of a book, but the strenuous
exertions of a long life,—already engraved in characters
which no obliterating hand could reach, and doubtless so
worked into many a mind, as not to be distinguishable from
its own proper convictions,—doctrines too, so confirmed by
the noble example of their teacher, in carrying them out to
their full consequences by his death ? For the death of So¬
crates, it should be observed, was not simply a test of his
sincerity in his teaching. It was this, and still more. It was
the ultimate and decisive opposition to those false principles,
against which every action and discourse of his life had been
directed. He had been all along exposing the presump¬
tuousness and vanity of the principles on which men ordi¬
narily judged and acted. He was now further to shewr, that
this opposition on his part was not to be daunted by those
principles, when set in formidable array against his own life ;
and that, professing a low estimate of the present life, he
would not disown or shrink from that profession at the
moment of greatest trial.
If we inquire, accordingly, what was the substance of the
positive teaching of Socrates, we must address ourselves to
the contemplation of his active life, and his resigned patient
death. He had no design of establishing philosophy as a
literary pursuit or intellectual pastime ; though he probably
foresaw, that that taste for inquiry into truth which he was
ever awakening, must soon lead to the formation of a philo¬
sophical literature at Athens. He already witnessed, in¬
deed, the commencement of such a literature, the result of
this excitement, if it be true that he had read the Lysis of
Plato, and observed respecting it, “ How much the young
man makes me say that I never said !”7 He wished rather
to divert men from the vanity of setting themselves up as
philosophers, and make them employ their thoughts in learn¬
ing and investigating, instead of prematurely commencing
1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 8.—Apol. 32.—Plato, Phaedo, ad fin. 2 Pseudo-Plutarch. X Orat. Vit. Plutarch. Op. ix. p. 336.
8 l-hog- Laert. in vit. Antisth. vi. 4, 10. 4 Ibid, in vit. Socr. ii. 5, 43.
5 Plutarch, de Invid. et Od. Op. viii. p. 128.—Diodorus Siculus says, 6 Sr/ixos /ueTf/ueXijtfy .... (cat rekos aKpirovs dne/crave.
xiv. 38; also Augustin, de Civ. Dei, viii. 3.
The schools of Athens were closed in the reign of Justinian, A. C. 529.
7 Diog. Laert. in vit. Plat. xxiv.
396 S O C R
Socrates, at oiicg as well-informed persons and teachers of others, with
crude and superficial notions and principles.
If we look, then, to the course of his practical teaching,
 to the o-eneral tenor of his conversations and actions, and
the example throughout of his life and death,—we shall find
that his whole labour was directed to the establishment of
true moral and religious principles, in opposition to the false
and mischievous principles which, he observed, were com¬
monly acted upon and avowed in the world. The excellence
and supremacy of self-knowledge was what he was ever in¬
culcating; and of self-knowledge, not as a matter of intellec¬
tual curiosity, or for its value as a science, but in order to
self-government and to happiness. He found that this was
the last kind of knowledge which men ever thought of acquir¬
ing ; that they had, in fact, no concern about it; or that if
they were reminded of its necessity, they presumed on their
possession of it already. His first effort, then, was to open the
minds of men to a perception of the value of this knowledge,
and of their own need of it. The questions which he would
put—the refutations which he addressed to the various pro¬
positions or conclusions elicited from others in the course of
his conversations—the perplexities to which he would re¬
duce them—and the unsatisfied state in which he would com¬
monly leave them, after exciting their doubts—all had a
direct tendency to convince men of the insufficiency of their
intellectual acquirements, and of their want of some more
adequate and availing information.1 To the same purport
was his disparagement of physical science, and of all mere¬
ly speculative knowledge, in comparison with that which
was useful for human life. For he was far from an utilita¬
rian, in the modern sense of that term. He did not value
particular studies, because they ministered to the necessi¬
ties or conveniences of human life, or undervalue them be¬
cause they had no such bearing. But he saw that his clever
and ingenious countrymen were studious of intellectual re¬
finement—that they delighted in the specious, and the ad¬
mirable, and the subtile, more than in the solid and the un¬
ostentatious qualifications of the good member of a private
family and the useful citizen. He was aware, too, from
his own acquaintance with the existing physical philosophy,
how imperfect that knowledge was, how entirely hypothe¬
tical, and incapable of practical application. We must make
allowance, therefore, in estimating his objection to specula¬
tive science, for the polemical spirit in which he assailed a
branch of knowledge then, at once, so barren, and so en¬
croaching in its claims on public attention. We must re¬
gard him as preparing the way for the due cultivation of
the other, the higher as well as more important knowledge,
that of man’s own nature, then so little thought of, and so
neglected. This seems to be invariably his design on every
occasion, whatever may be the immediate purport of his
discourse.
When he came to direct the minds of men, once awaken¬
ed to the importance of moral study, to the subject it¬
self of human nature, he had to encounter on the very
threshold the most perverse notions. All their maxims of
life were based on the absolute importance of the present
life. The body, and its present appetites and desires, were
regarded as the whole of man. The tyrant, in the enjoy¬
ment of absolute power to gratify every passion without re¬
striction or penalty, was considered as the apt representa¬
tion of the highest human felicity. All men’s plans of life
accordingly were directed to the acquisition of power for
themselves. They studied to improve their external cir¬
cumstances, and not themselves. Then their religion was
merely the fear of mysterious powers influencing the pros¬
perous or adverse events of the present world, and which
ATES.
were therefore to be conciliated or appeased by offerings and Socrates,
vows. Socrates set himself strenuously to refute these vain
presumptions. He argued the folly of supposing, that men
really accomplished their own wishes in gratifying each
prevailing inclination. He showed, that whilst they did what
they pleased at the moment, they did not in fact attain
that pleasure which they sought; and led them therefore to
surmise, that there must be some end of human pursuit be¬
yond the gratification of the passions, and further, some ulti¬
mate end to the whole sum of the active energies of the soul,
beyond the present life, and distinct from all bodily as¬
sociations. But he not only suggested such a thought by
shewing the reasonings on the opposite view of human life
to be inconsequential and absurd; he further practically
refuted the prevailing fallacies on the subject, by his
own example on the other side. He proved to the world,
by divesting himself of all the worldly accessaries of hap¬
piness, and depending exclusively on the internal resour¬
ces of his mind and character, and by his perpetual cheer¬
fulness under those privations, that happiness did not re¬
sult from externals, or from the body, but from the in¬
ternal nature of man, nor from any thing positive and ab¬
solute in that nature, so much as from its state of discipline
and command over the appetites of the body. Theories of
morals were yet to be formed. It remained for Plato to
erect the true and sublime standard of human conduct in
the perfections of the Divinity, and for Aristotle afterwards
to shew the application of the law of habits to the subject.
Socrates has the merit of having prepared the way for these
developments of the subject, by demonstrating the folly of
seeking the ideal of happiness in any enjoyment of the body,
or in any thing present.
So also as to religion, though he could not advance, in
his conceptions of the retributive justice of the Divine Be¬
ing, beyond the circle of darkness which limits the natu¬
ral observation of man, he proved the absurdity of suppos¬
ing that mere external punishment was the only suffering un¬
dergone for offences committed. Secret faults, as he pointed
out, did not escape with impunity. He appealed to the re¬
morses of conscience, to shew how surely, however in¬
visibly, wrong doing was visited with its punishment; and
whilst in his own mind he concluded that there would be
a future state, in which each man would receive the merited
consequences of his actions, he must also have excited, in
the minds of his hearers, a strong though undefined appre¬
hension of a period of general retribution after death in an¬
other world. At least they must have seen that it was not so
certain, as they may have once supposed, that though a
present punishment may have been evaded, punishment
would not follow at a future day. In well-disposed minds,
there would thus be a foundation laid of a doctrine of the im¬
mortality of the soul. Under the teaching of Socrates him¬
self, this truth, perhaps, would scarcely assume the form of a
doctrine, so distinctly as it is stated by Plato. It would be
simply a practical conviction. And thus Socrates himself
probably scarcely propounded it in formal terms, nor without
those qualifying doubts which both his memorialists describe
him as joining with its enunciation. But Plato, following
him, took up the doctrine as a formal truth, and worked it
up into a perfect theory, with the formal array of argument
and didactic exposition.
There was nothing, indeed, of system in any part of the
teaching of Socrates. In the “Memorabilia” of Xenophon,
we have probably a very complete specimen of the sub¬
stance of what he taught, and, in the desultory manner in
which the subjects of the several conversations there given
are introduced, of the actual way in which he would throw
1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 3. 36. ’AXXa ravTa fitv, e(f)rj 6 2a>KpaTr]s, laocts Sta to a(po8pu TTLcnevtLv eidtvai cod’ fcTKe\j/ai,
lb. 39. (fipovTifa, uf] KpaTiarov fi p.oi cnyciv' KivSvvtva) yap anXoos ovdev eibevai.
SOCRATES.
Socrates, out his questions and reflections on different points, as they
happened to suggest themselves on each occasion. There
we find the various duties of the good man and the good
citizen summarily sketched, without the formality of state¬
ment or systematic connexion. He inquires what is just,
or pious, or temperate,—and he leads his hearers to con¬
sider the true definitions of the several virtues 51 but it is
chiefly with the view of laying open their mistakes and
confusion of thought on the subject, and to divert them
from sophistical disquisitions on virtue, to the discharge of
virtue in all its parts, rather than to give any precise idea
of it himself.2
Certainly there are grave objections to the morality
which he taught. It did not enjoin that perfect purity of
sentiment and action, which, judging from its general ex¬
cellence, we might perhaps have expected. It forbade
excesses of licentiousness as evil, but it did not also for¬
bid licentious indulgence as altogether vicious, or fix its
stigma on those monstrous forms of vice which polluted
Grecian society. Nor, again, did it give a right tone to
the resentful feelings. It enjoined the requiting of ill to
enemies,—placing retaliation as a duty on a par with the
return of kindness to friends.3 With these exceptions, the
morality inculcated by Socrates, founded as it was on the
indications in man’s nature of a destiny beyond the pre¬
sent world, bears strongly the marks of the law written by
the finger of God, and proves that the Creator has not
left Himself without witness, where the light of his re¬
velation has not shone. Supposing even that those great
truths, thus taught, were the broken planks from the wreck
of a primitive Faith, floated down on the stream of ages,
we must yet believe a providential disposition, in the fact
of that ready acceptance which they could obtain with one,
brought up, as Socrates was, amidst the grossest corrup¬
tions of heathenism. His was an instance, how the unso¬
phisticated heart responds to the notices of divine truth,
when once they are duly presented to it; and how, where-
ever there is a sincere pursuit of right, the moral eye will
be enabled to pierce the surrounding gloom, and to dis¬
cern, for the most part, the true outline and form of right.
It is observable, however, that, whilst Socrates correctly
perceived that the laws of religion and morality possessed a
sacred importance, independently of all positive enactments
of men, he yet appeals to the laws of the state for the par¬
ticular rules of religious and moral duty. When instruct¬
ing Euthydemus on the worship of the gods, he cites the
Delphic oracle, which enjoined the law of the state as the
rule of acceptable worship.4 When asked by the sophist
Hippias what is just, he answers, that it is what the laws
prescribe. Such reference was perfectly natural in a Greek,
accustomed as Greeks were to view every thing in su¬
bordination to politics, and to regard the duty of the citi¬
zen as paramount to every other duty. This feeling had
its influence with Socrates, and induced him to regard
the authority of the state as possessing in itself a moral
force of obligation. The respect which he throughout
shewed to the laws of his own state, was that of one who
397
not only obeyed what they commanded, but strictly rever- Socrates,
enced their authority.5 We must not, however, suppose,
that he thus intended to place positive and moral laws on
the same footing. The reference which he gives to the
written law of the state, as the directory on questions of
religion and morals, is the substitute in his teaching for a
systematic development of the moral and religious duties.
The law of the state presented, to one who had no thought
of systematizing the subject for himself, the best expres¬
sion of those great truths which he was drawing forth from
the higher source of man’s eternal nature. He is content
to point out to his hearers, in a general way, the wisest
and readiest collection of rules for those cases which came
under the great comprehensive duties of piety and justice.
Evidently he is not treating the subject with the exactness
of the theorist, in assigning this importance to the law of
the state; but he is enforcing the use of the law of the
state as an authoritative practical guide to right conduct.
—His internal view of religion, for example, was founded
on observation of the signs of benevolent design through¬
out the material and intellectual world ; and he was thus
led to the acknowledgment of a pure Theism. But in
his conduct, he knew not how to realize the obligations
which the perception of this truth imposed on him. With
his reverence, accordingly, for the laws of his country, as
well as under the influence of that superstition to which
his piety habitually verged, he sought a direction to his
religious sentiments from the authority of the state, and
thus in practice was a polytheist His object was further
to prevent men from trusting to the conceits of their own
judgment in matters of conduct, and to recommend a pro¬
per deference to the wisdom and authority of their ancient
laws, then so presumptuously slighted by each vain pre¬
tender to superior prudence and political sagacity.
In assailing, as Socrates did, the follies of his countrymen
by the dexterity of an acute reason, he was ever exposing
their ignorance. The impression on his own mind appears
to have been, that men erred rather from the want of due
information respecting their moral condition, than from the
perverseness of their will,—from folly, rather than from
vice. Himself an accurate observer of human life, and
with a disposition to follow the path of duty wherever it
might lead him, he had in his own case felt the importance
of intellectual cultivation, in order to right conduct. From
his own circumstances, accordingly, and a natural predilec¬
tion for those exercises of the mind which were his habi¬
tual pursuit, he overrated this importance; and, instead of
simply regarding the information of the mind as a neces¬
sary ingredient in moral improvement, he made it all in all.
Thus, according to him, wisdom or philosophy was virtue,
and ignorance and folly, vice. He carried this view of
morals so far, as to place the knowledge of duty on a foot¬
ing with the knowledge of arts. Nor was he even startled
with the paradox, that if such were the case—if the know¬
ledge of right were the whole of morality—there would be
less immorality in intentional wrong conduct, than in un¬
intentional done through ignorance.6
1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 8, 11. 'Ikcivos fie kcu Xoya inreiv re xal dioplcracrSac ra roiavra, k.t.X.
2 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 4, 9. ’AXXa pa At’, e<prj, ovk aKovcrrj, irplv y av avros dnoifirivT], o n vopi£eis to Slkoiov eivai. dpsei yap, on
rwv aXXcou KarayeXas, ipcorav pev teat eXiy^tuv ndvras, airbs fie ovdevl DeXcop ime^eip Xbyop ovde ypdtptjv dnocfiaipeaSai irepl ovfie-
vbs, k r.X.
3 Xenopb. Mem. iv. 2, 16; ii. 6. 35. Aristot. Rhet. ii. 23. 4 Ibid. iv. 3, 16. Also, i. 3, 1.
5 See, in the “Crito” of Plato, a beautiful address, put into the mouth of Socrates, from the personified majesty of the laws.
6 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 2, 20. Aoxei fie croi pd6r]ais ko! eTriarrjpri rov diKaiov eivai, warrep rci>v ypappdrcov, k.t.X. Seneca, arguing
also the need of moral information for the performance of duty, refers to the same illustration of morality from the arts, as that given by
Xenophon, to shew that there is no real analogy between the two subjects. “ Vis scire,” he says, “ quam dissimilis sit harum artium con¬
ditio et hujus ? In illis excusatius est, voluntate peccare, quam casu : in hac maxima culpa est, sponte delinquere. Quod dico, tale est.
Grammaticus non erubescit solecismum, si sciens facit: erubescit, si nesciens. Medicus, si deficere segrum non intelligit, quantum ad
artem, magis peccat, quam si se intelligere dissimulat. At in hac arte vivendi, turpior volentium culpa est.” Ep. 95. 8. He seems to
havehadtheargument of Socrates, as given by Xenophon, (Mem. iv. 2, 20.) in his view. So also Aristotle says: Kai e’p pev Te^vr] 6 eKibv
apapravcov aiperdrepos" ire pi fie (ppovtjcriv rjTTov, wanep Kal nepl ras dperds. Eth. Nic. vi- 5.
398 SOCRATES.
iocrates. Thus vice was in no case, in the view of Socrates, an
-‘•‘V'*-'' act of the will, but of the mistaken judgment. He did not
mean by this to assert, that men did not act wrong wilful¬
ly in the particular instances of misconduct, so as not to
deserve blame for their misconduct; but that the seat of
vice was in the perverse understanding,—for that the will
was invariably towards good. If, accordingly, vice may be
regarded as seated in the understanding, and not in the
heart, it would follow, that that man is less vicious mprinciple,
who knows what is right and acts wrong, than one who acts
wrong without knowing what is right. The former alter¬
native, however, was impossible, according to his theory.
For knowledge, by its intrinsic excellence, must prevail
over every other principle. So far was Socrates led by the
working of his method, and his observation of the ignorance
and folly of men, to overlook facts, at least, as evident on
the other side,—the plain instances of men acting wrong in
spite of their better knowledge, and of greater blame assigned
to wrong thus done in spite of knowledge. His error is fur¬
ther to be traced to a confusion of the ideas of right and hap¬
piness, in the term “ good.” That the will is, by the original
constitution of man, invariably towards good, if we take good
in the sense of real interest or happiness, is quite true; but
it is far from true, if we include the notion of right in that of
good. Men, when they take even perverted views of their
happiness, may be regarded as unconsciously desiring the
real happiness of their nature. The will, therefore, in this
sense, may be said to be always towards good. But in the
latter sense of the term “good,”—that in which it includes
right,—the contrary rather is true. Men see the light, but
love darkness rather than light; and the seat of vice is, ac¬
cordingly, not in the understanding, but in the heart. But
there is this justification of the language of Socrates on
moral subjects, that the ignorance which he attacked, was,
in truth, a vicious and blameable ignorance. Men did not
take pains to inform themselves on moral subjects. They
neglected themselves, pursuing and professing every other
kind of knowledge but that which was most at hand for
their acquisition, and most concerned them. Seeing, then,
the moral errors into which men ran from this neglect,
Socrates not unreasonably set his mark of reprobation no
ignorance, as the source of immorality. Immediately, in¬
deed, and ostensibly, he attacked the general ignorance
of men, holding out philosophy as the remedy of vice and
unhappiness. But the ultimate and real object of his at¬
tack all the while was, the immoral disposition, the self¬
neglect, and the irregular habits of life, from which the in¬
capacity and ignorance of men on moral subjects common¬
ly result. Then, further, it was the ignorance of self,
chiefly, that he laboured to remove. He found conceit as
to themselves, the prevailing fault of the men of his age
and country. And he hoped, by exposing their ignorance
on various subjects, to make them question their presump¬
tions relating to their own nature, and character, and duties.
Thus would he, in effect, be correcting moral error,—the
folly of men persuading themselves and others that they
knew what they had never cared to examine, much less to
know.1
As the peculiar aspect under which he presented the sub¬
ject of morals arose, in a great measure, from his manner
of interrogating in conversation, so the general character
of his philosophy is to be sought in its intimate connexion
with the peculiar method which he pursued. His philoso¬
phy, being essentially colloquial, laid down no positive prin¬
ciples in any particular science, or even any general princi¬
ples for the conduct of the understanding in scientific or
moral inquiries. But it sought to rouse the understanding to Socrates,
a perception of its condition of weakness, and defects, and
ignorance, previous to its interrogation of itself, and its acqui¬
sition of knowledge, and its strengthening by exercise and
discipline. Like the great reformer of modern science, he
found nothing duly ascertained in the field of philosophy;
hypotheses assumed without examination, truth obscured and
confounded under the plausible cover of general terms and
vague analogies. Yet every one wras fully satisfied with
the state of knowledge; every one presumed that he was
in possession of the truth. So, too, at this period, as at
the time when Bacon proposed his new method, there was
a dialectical science in use, available only for disputation
and victory, and not reaching the truth of things, or im¬
parting any real knowledge. And, in like manner, in the
time of Socrates, as in that of Bacon, this imperfect dia¬
lectical science was regarded as the key to every kind of
knowledge ; and he who could discourse fluently on any
given subject, was esteemed the accomplished philosopher.
“ Of nothing,” as Bacon himself pointedly observes, “ were
men so scrupulous as lest they should seem to doubt on any
subject.”2
This state of things formed a strong barrier against any
attempt to effect a moral reformation. The way to the heart
had to be cleared through a mass of outworks thrown out
by the intellect. It only remained, then, for him who would
be the moral reformer of his countrymen, to work by means
of that very dialectical science which opposed its ramparts
and its arms to his progress.
But to have simply used the same method which his
contemporaries employed, would have been to revolve in
the same perpetual circle. Socrates, indeed, might, by a
more skilful use of the same dialectical artifices, have con¬
futed the sophists and others with whom he reasoned. He
might have gained the victory in argument, by demonstrat¬
ing the fallacy of their deductions, or proving the contra¬
dictory of their conclusions. But no advance would have
been made by such a proceeding towards a detection of the
source of the popular errors, the wrong principles them¬
selves, on which men argued and acted. To accomplish
this object, then,—to expose the fallacy of wrong principles,
—he had to exalt the art of the dialectician to a higher
function than that of merely eliciting consequences from
given principles.
This attempt accordingly he made. Without instituting
any formal method, or teaching any art of discourse,—with¬
out, it seems, having any such design in his thoughts,—he
yet so far gave a new direction and impulse to dialectical
science, as to render it in some measure at least subser¬
vient to the investigation of truth. In his hands, it served,
if it did nothing more, to raise doubts as to the truth of er¬
roneous principles which before had passed without ques¬
tion, and which the very practice of reasoning from them as
axioms, had tended to confirm as fixed and indisputable
standards of all other truths.
We must not suppose, that definition and induction wrere
unknown as parts of dialectics before Socrates; or that So¬
crates was absolutely the first to discover and propound
their nature and use. The expressions of Aristotle might
suggest this supposition. For he says particularly, that
there were two things which one might ascribe to Socrates,
Definition, and Inductive Reasoning.3 What Aristotle pro¬
bably intends to say, is, that Socrates was the first to im¬
prove the existing method of dialectics, by employing de¬
finition and induction as the principal engines of discussion,
and illustrating their nature and use more than ever had been
1 Xenophon speaks of the refutations employed by Socrates, serving as chastisements of presumptuous folly, KoXasrjpiov he<a. Mem. i.4.1.
* Nov. Org. i. 67.
3 Aristot. Metaph. xiii. 4, At'o yap toriv a ns av a7ro8a>r) SaKparei StKatcor, tovs r eVa/criKous Xuyovs, kul to Spi^eadat mGu'kov,
Ibid. i. 6. irepi opiopwi/ STrLCTTr]oavTos TrpwTOV rrjv Sidvoiav.
SOCRATES.
399
Socrates, done before him. He gave them, in fact, a body and a vi-
talityj by applying them to the realities with which men
had to do in their daily life.1 Instead of employing them
for the purpose of verbal distinction, or for the expression
of some abstract and barren generality, he applied them to
limit the vague notions entertained about matters of prac¬
tical concern, and to bring opinions into harmony with or¬
dinary experience. To the dialecticians before him, Defi¬
nition and Induction were the commencement of their dis¬
cussions. They unsuspectingly presumed on the logical
processes involved in these instrurnents of discourse, as al¬
ready sufficiently accomplished. They attempted, indeed,
to define; but they took such definitions as they found at
hand,— of course the most superficial.2 General princi¬
ples they scarcely thought of establishing; but they assum¬
ed such as were the current maxims of the day. And the
rest of their discourse proceeded from these crude and un¬
scientific elements. But Socrates did not profess to give
definitions, or to have arrived at any positive certain prin¬
ciples, from which, as data, other truths might be demon¬
strated.
He disclaimed, as has been already pointed out, the de¬
sign or the ability to teach. He was only an inquirer, him¬
self knowing nothing. When pressed, as by the sophist
Hippias, to give his own account of the particular subject
about which he is importunately questioning, he evades the
point, and recurs to his established way of proceeding by
interrogatories.3 He is constantly, that is, endeavouring
to rise to a correct definition of the subject under discus¬
sion. He presents it as the end to be attained by the whole
discussion; leading the person questioned from point to
point, until he brings him close to the true and exact idea
of the subject. So also does he employ Induction. He cites
some instance,—commonly some coarse and very familiar
one, from the workshop of the smith or the shoemaker,
or from the culinary art, and the like,—as apposite to the
point under debate; and thus brings the principle itself, on
which the dispute turns, to the test of actual experience.
This was so much his manner, that it was made a standing
jest by those against whom he so triumphantly employed
it. They complained of his ever repeating the same thing;
ever talking of “ carpenters, and smiths, and fullers, and cooks,
and such like nonsense.4” But he was not deterred by the
scoff, which in reality proved the point and force of his rea¬
sonings. He replied, that about the same things, he must
persist in saying the same things; unless it could be shewn,
that a person being asked, whether twice five were ten,
should answer differently at different times.5 Thus, he would
continually recur to his well-known illustrations from com¬
mon life, hackneyed as they were in his own use, and low
and trifling as they might seem.
From this his constant practice of bringing men to the
test of definition and familiar instance, on every subject dis¬
cussed, he had been regarded by the Thirty as the teacher
of an “ art of discourse,” and as therefore obnoxious to a
law which they had made (chiefly with a view to him), for¬
bidding the teaching of such an art.6 Such a restriction,
however, could not apply to Socrates; since, as w^e have
seen, he professed no art; he imparted no method of argu¬
ment ; and, to have silenced him, they must, as he shewed
them, have absolutely prevented his asking the most sim¬
ple and familiar question. Here it was the point of an apt
illustration that had provoked this sally of resentment from
Critias and Charicles, two of the Thirty. It had been re¬
ported to them that he had drawn attention to their acts of
violence, by asking, what would be thought of the herds- Socrates,
man under whose care an herd should be diminished. On
this occasion, Charicles, after vainly remonstrating with
him against the practice of his daily conversations, shewed
the point of the illustration, by bidding him beware lest
he also should make the number of the herd still less.7
So far, indeed, was Socrates from instituting any method
either of argument or of investigation, that the very defini¬
tions and instances which he employed wrere of a popular
character, adapted for refutation of error rather than for
conviction of the truth,—such as to place difficulties in the
way of a dogmatic opponent, rather than didactic illustra¬
tions of any particular subject. He was engaged in repel¬
ling dogmatism. And nothing is of more avail for this
purpose than analogies ; such instances, that is, as test the
truth of an assumption in one case, by its application to an¬
other of the same kind. Direct instances, shewing experi¬
mentally the truth or falsehood of an assumption, may be
difficult to be found; and, in their use, they require a parti¬
cular acquaintance with the subject itself, in order that
their application may be seen. For example, if it were de¬
sired to expose a false theory of government, some fact of
history must be adduced, and its bearing on the theory in
question must be distinctly pointed out. But an analogous
instance does not require this intimate acquaintance with
the subject itself, in illustration of which it is brought. It
shews at once that a given hypothesis is either tenable, or
not tenable,—that it is verified or not verified in some pa¬
rallel case, and therefore may be granted or not, in the sub¬
ject about which the argument is. Only it is necessary,
for this purpose, that the analogous instance should be a fa¬
miliar one,—that the exhibition of the principle in question
should be clear and striking in the instances adduced. For
example, to set forth the evil of tyranny, it would be quite
enough to point out, as Socrates did, the case of a herdsman
under whose keeping an herd should be deteriorated; and the
inference would be immediate, that a career of confiscation
and blood was no evidence of a good government. Again,
whether it were wise to choose magistrates by lot, would
be a difficult question to be decided by the direct evidence
of facts bearing on the point. But when Socrates referred
to the absurdity of appointing a steersman by lot, it was at
once evident, that there were cases in which this mode of
appointing important officers of the state would be mis¬
chievous. Such then was the kind of evidence which So¬
crates was constantly adducing from analogous instances to
the point in question ;—an evidence, not conveying any po¬
sitive instruction in the theories of the subjects to which it
was applied; but removing false impressions respecting
them, and opening the mind to the reception of the truth.
It was an admirable method of unteaching prejudices or
vain assumptions,and of silencing the dogmatist,—a method,
powerful at once for the refutation of error, and the con¬
viction of ordinary minds incapable of being instructed
by a more direct and positive evidence. Such, accordingly,
was the method practised by Socrates. In pursuing any ar¬
gument, “ he would proceed,” as Xenophon observes, “ by
the most admitted principles; considering this to be the
sound basis of discussion. And therefore,” adds Xenophon,
“ he, far beyond all I ever knew, when he spoke, carried
conviction to his hearers ;” and he would say, “ that Ho¬
mer had ascribed to Ulysses the merit of being a sound
orator, on account of his ability to conduct a discussion, by
reasoning from such principles as men acknowledged.”8
It was seldom, however, if ever, that Socrates avowedly
Xenoph. Mem. iii. 3. 11. Asyety, e 0^, crv tov imrap^ov Trpos rois aWois impiKeiaSaL deiv Kai rov \eyciv bvva&Qai’, k. r. X.
) Aristot. Metaph. i. 5. Kal irep'i tov rl icrriv rjp^avro pev Xeyav Kat opl^eadap Xlav 8' anXcos enpaypaTevdrjcrav. copifcovro re yap
tTTtTroXauoy, K. T. X.
® Xenoph. Mem. iv. 4, 9. 4 Ibid. i. 2, 37. Plato, Gorgias, p. 491, a. t. iv. p. 96.
"enoph; Mem. iv. 4, 7. 8ia tu>v Bokovvtcov tols 'av^panois.
Xenoph. Mem. i. 2. 31. 3 Aristid. t. ii. p. 24S. Xenoph. Mem. i. 2. 37. 8 Ibid. iv. 6. 13.
400 S O C R
Socrates, argued a point. Professing to know nothing himself, he
s y constantly challenged others as to what they professed to
know. He put his questions to each person with whom he
conversed, very much as the skilful experimenter in these days
does to nature, so as to lead to the affirmative or negative
of a particular hypothesis whose truth he would investigate.
Having obtained an answer, he proceeds analytically, to
found on that another question, studiously directed, in like
manner, to elicit the answer which might serve for fur¬
ther inquiry, and so on, until he has reduced the first
proposition to some simple elements, clearly shewing the
truth or falsehood of the original assumption. It was as
truly an experimental process on men’s minds, as that which
the modern investigator performs on the subject which he
examines. Those analogical instances in which he so much
delighted, served the purpose of this analysis, no less than
direct and proper instances, such as belong to him who in¬
vestigates experimentally the nature of a particular subject.
For analogies detect the state of the mind to which they are
addressed. They at once call forth and illustrate its principles
and habits of thought, and enable the experimenter to avail
himselfofthe existing resources in that mind for effecting the
desired conviction. They furnish him with a clue to the
course which he should follow in carrying on his analysis.
This was that midwifery of the mind which Socrates used
sportively to describe as his peculiar occupation.
In his conversation, for example, with Euthydemus, who
prided himself in having cultivated his mind by his own in¬
dependent study of books, of which he had formed a large
collection,—he first drew attention to the singularity of the
young man’s conceit, by representing him as coming before
the public, with high professions of being self-taught, and
putting the parallel case of a candidate for some medical
office, who should announce that he had studiously avoided
even the appearance of having learned the art of medicine,
and ask for the office on the promise of endeavouring to
learn the art by his future practice. Interest being ex¬
cited by this illustration of the absurdity, he next led his
hearers to see the absurdity of entering on political affairs
without preparation, by referring to the fact of the severe
application and discipline undergone by persons who seek
reputation in such accomplishments as flute-playing or rid¬
ing. Then, having gained over Euthydemus as a more
willing listener, he proceeds to question him as to the use
for which he had collected so many books. He throws out
the presumption that they have been collected with a view
to enrich the mind with virtue. Supposing this to be
granted, he goes on to interrogate Euthydemus as to the
particular excellence of which he is in quest. He enume¬
rates several particulars; and these being rejected, he comes
at last to excellence in the art of government, which the
young man concedes to be the object of his desire. This
gives an opening to inquire into the qualifications necessary
for such excellence. He discovers, by the answers of
Euthydemus, that he conceives himself master of those mo¬
ral virtues which he is induced to admit are indispensable
to the good citizen. By a series of questions, however, re¬
lating to particular actions, he forces Euthydemus to admit,
that what is just in one case, is unjust in another, and
to contradict himself in his successive statements as to the
comparative criminality of voluntary and involuntary acts of
injustice. What, then, triumphantly asks the philosopher,
think you of a person who is so inconsistent with himself?
The conclusion is inevitable; and Euthydemus is constrain¬
ed to own, that “ he knew not what he thought he knew.”
But Socrates, not yet satisfied, presses him further to ex¬
plain his notion of that ignorance which he had thus dis¬
played ; and finds, that notwithstanding his confession of
his want of right instruction, he yet presumes on his pos-
A T E S.
session of self-knowledge. Another question forces him to Socrates,
abandon this position. The young man then asks to be only
put in the way of self-examination. Here at once his false
presumptions are exposed to the searching analysis of So¬
crates. The inquiry turns on a knowledge of the goods and
evil of life. Euthydemus enumerates one thing after an¬
other as good; and Socrates immediately subjoins some
counter evil as attending it; until Euthydemus at last gives
up his confidence in his own opinion, and declares that he
knows not now what he ought to pray for to the gods.
Again, Socrates presents before him pointedly the evidence
he had thus given of having been diverted from consideration
of the subject by the strong presumption of his knowledge
of it. But that he may leave no room for escape, he calls
on him, in conclusion, to state his opinion as to the nature
of democracy, which at least, he conceived, Enthydemus,
as a candidate for public office in a popular state, must have
studied. And in like manner, he extorts from his succes¬
sive answers a further proof of his ignorance and incompe¬
tence to the duties for which he had designed himself.
The effect thus produced is what Plato compares to the
numbing touch of the torpedo.1 The mental powers of the
individual thus tried were for the moment paralyzed. He
found that he only committed himself further by renewed
efforts; and “ began to think,” as Euthydemus says of him¬
self at the close of the conversation to which we have just
referred, “ whether it were not best for him to be silent, as
he ran the hazard of appearing absolutely to know nothing.”
From the instance just given, it will appear that a cur¬
rent of irony pervaded these experimental argumentations
of Socrateg. There was irony mingled with earnest con¬
viction, in that very disclaimer of all knowledge with which
he set out. It was a mask, behind which he could hurl
his weapons of assault on the boasted knowledge of others,
whilst at the same time he expressed his serious view
of the real ignorance of man, and the necessity of com¬
ing with a simple unprejudiced mind to the acquisition
of truth. In the prosecution, however, of his method
of analysis by interrogation, irony was indispensable for
the success of his inquiry. For his object was to obtain
the truth from the mouth of the person interrogated, not to
state it himself; and where he did state it accordingly, it
was necessary to put it in such a form as to try whether it
was the opinion or not of that person,—whether he really
thought so, or adopted it on the judgment of his questioner.
An ironical statement answers this purpose. It conceals
the teacher, and enables him to judge, according as the
hearer applies it, what the state of the hearer’s mind is, and
to argue the point in question, not on premises laid down by
himself, but the admissions of the other. The hearer, too, is
taken by surprise. The air of seriousness which the ironical
manner sets out with, and the absurdity involved, on second
thought, in carrying out the supposition of a serious intent, in
their united effect, provoke the smile of surprise, and win at¬
tention. As Socrates was engaged, too, in presenting unac¬
ceptable conclusions,—bringing home to the self-conceited
evidences of their real ignorance,—it was necessary for him
to disguise, as much as possible, the conclusion to which he
was tending. He had to assume, therefore, the principles
on which those with whom he conversed were reasoning
and acting, and reduce these to an absurdity, by applying
them as true to some evident case of ordinary experience.
The skilful use made by Socrates of this irony was a power¬
ful enforcement, in itself, of the convictions which he desired
to leave on the minds of his hearers. He brought the aid
of a delicate ridicule to the support of an argument, and
thus exhibited the desired conclusion under a form, which,
whilst it pleased the hearers, shamed them into an acknow¬
ledgment of its truth.
1 Plato, Meno., 80 a. t. iv. p. 348.
SOCRATES.
Socrates. But this irony, and the analogical instances over which it
was thrown, were but approaches to that end which Socra¬
tes appears always to have had in view in his conversations,
—the ascent to accurate general notions of each object of
thought. He was always working his way towards an ex¬
act definition of the idea on which the discussion turned.
Each instance which he adduced was a step in this progress,
diminishing by its light some portion of that obscurity and
confusion of thought with which he found the subject in¬
vested. He did not, indeed, reach the point which he had
in view. Dialectical science was in too rude a state at pre¬
sent for the attainment of its perfect end. Socrates rather
set an admirable example of the perseverance and energy
with which the end should be pursued, than a perfect model
of the method of pursuing it. His very method, indeed,
confesses its own imperfection, in stopping just at the point
where the way seems to be opened, and leaving the sub¬
ject negatively, rather than positively defined.
This constant pursuit of exact definition is an indication
of the antisceptical bent of the mind of Socrates. The
foundations of morals and of all science were shaken by the
speculations of his sophistical predecessors. Opinion was
exalted to the prerogative of knowledge. Socrates accord-
ingly put opinion to the test. He explored it experimen¬
tally, as it existed in different minds ; and he proved it de¬
ficient from the standard to which it had been vainly ex¬
alted. He found that it vanished before the light of inves¬
tigation ; and, in fact, that in proportion as the fancies and
errors of opinion were cleared away, advances were made
towards more stable and certain knowledge. This know¬
ledge, accordingly, he continually sought after. He had
probably but an indistinct conception of the realities to¬
wards which he directed his pursuit. Still he appears con¬
stantly to have assumed and fully believed their existence,
by steadily proceeding, as we find him to have done, through
the various opinions which he encounters in discussion, un¬
til he arrives at some more definite form of thought. What
Socrates only indistinctly apprehended, Plato afterwards
realized in his philosophical system, and endued with ex¬
istence in his celebrated theory of Ideas. But in the view
of his master that theory was but dimly seen in shadow.
Socrates shaped his course towards it, as he more and more
limited the extravagancies of popular opinion on the various
subjects which he discussed, and excluded whatever was ir¬
relevant and foreign to the real nature of the thing. He
threw doubts on what was doubtful, that there might be the
less doubt and uncertainty about what remained when the
doubtful was removed from a subject.
What appears to have led Socrates into this sound method
of proceeding, was, as Aristotle very justly intimates, the
firm moral convictions which were the great elements of
his mind and character.1 He felt that there was a reality in
the principles of piety, justice, benevolence, and other mo¬
ral sentiments, which no sophistry could impugn. He not
only felt their reality within himself, but he had observed,
that however invisible to the outward eye, they produced
real effects in the world ; that they were not only evidenced
in the constitution of nature, but also recognized in those
unwritten laws which were found everywhere the same,
independently of positive institution, as well as in the
enactments of particular states.2 He looked for the origi¬
nal of these sentiments to the perfect nature of the Di¬
vinity ; and he held them accordingly to be invariable and
true, as the Divinity is invariable and true. Hence he
401
would allow no proper and adequate power of causation but Socrates,
moral design. Material or mechanical causes were in his
view but of instrumental efficacy.3 It was moral sentiment
only, the love and pursuit of good, that possessed real
power. This alone, he observed, subsisted unchanged and
fixed, whilst every thing else was moved by it, and derived
its existence from it. It was the neglect of this primary
principle in the detail of the physical theory of Anaxago¬
ras, which had offended him in the system of that philoso¬
pher. And agreeably to this, Plato tells us of his account¬
ing for his remaining in his prison, from the simple cause of
the moral feeling by which he was actuated.
Fixing his eye accordingly on these stable eternal prin¬
ciples, Socrates pressed forward in every discussion towards
their attainment. He would never rest in vague general
classifications, which, involving also much that belonged not
to the subject in question, left its nature as undefined as
ever. But he proceeded to a further limitation of the ge¬
neralities on each subject, obliging his hearer to distinguish
the subordinate genera included in the more general idea
first thrown out, and thus gradually to circumscribe the sub¬
ject within its proper boundaries. This was the intimate
connexion of his logic and ethics. He was engaged through¬
out in an endeavour to remove the vain presumptions of
mere opinion, and to substitute for these a real knowledge,
as far as it was attainable, of the subjects themselves. He
conceived that if men went astray in their conduct, acting
on what they mistakenly thought right, and good, and true,
it was only necessary to make them know the truth, and
they would then act on their knowledge, as before they act¬
ed on mere opinion, and by thus acting attain their happi¬
ness. This was but a short-sighted view of the origin of
human misconduct and unhappiness, as it did not go beyond
the fact of the erroneous judgment of men, to the moral
perversion which was the primary cause of their failure in
action. As the practical error of men arises from this
perversion, it is evidently vain to think to improve their
conduct, by merely substituting more correct notions of
truth and duty; since this remedy does not reach the source
of the malady. Such, however, was the view of Socrates.
And hence he laboured, whatever might be the subject of
his conversations, to lead men to contemplate the nature
of the thing discussed, and to seek to define it to them¬
selves ; thus blending the perception of the right and the
good in the intellectual apprehension of the truth. Xeno¬
phon accordingly remarks the importance attributed by So¬
crates to the ability of distributing tilings into genera, on
the ground, that by means of this talent “ men would be¬
come most virtuous, most formed for command, and most
able in discourse.”4
Though Socrates thus endeavoured to render his hearers
accomplished in the art of discussion, by directing their at¬
tention to Definition, he, as might be expected, in that early
state of logical science, did little more than point out the
great importance of Definition, and mark the direction in
which it should proceed. Were we to take our estimate
of what Socrates accomplished in this way from the “ Dia¬
logues” of Plato, we must suppose Socrates to have been
much more methodical in his discussions, than we should
infer from the specimens given by Xenophon. Something
perhaps should be allowed for the practical turn of Xeno¬
phon’s mind, and his comparative inattention to the more
abstract part of the discussions of his master, whilst his fel¬
low-pupil, on the other hand, who had an eagle-eye for
Aristot. Metaph. i. 6. 'SooKparovs Se Trepl ytev ra rjdiKa npayparevopevov, * Xenoph. Mem. iv. 4.
Aristotle gives an instance of the manner in which Anaxagoras lost sight of his theory of mind in working out his system. Anaxa¬
goras, he tells us, said “ that man was the most intelligent of animals, because he had hands; whereas he should have stated, that man had
ands because he was the most intelligent of animals; for that hands were an instrument for taking hold.” Aristot. de Part. Amm. iv. 10,
P" 1034. Kva^ayopas peu ovi> <prj(ri, 8ia to xeipns e^eiu, (ppovipatraTOV eivcu t5>v- £c!)cai> rov avdpconov' evXoyov 8e, 8ia to (f)puutpd}TaTuv
fivcu tcov (mail, ^elpas e^eiv' tov Xapftdveiv ydp XeVes opyavov elariv. Ed. Duval.
Xenoph. Mem. iv. 5. 12. ’Ex tovtov ydp ylyveadai dvopas dpiarovs re (cdi rjyepoviKcoTaTovs udi diaXeKTiKcoTUTOvs.
VOL. XX. 3 £
SOCRATES.
402
Socrates, theory,however remote and dazzling, would seize every hint
'-*-V*-'that dropped from the lips of Socrates for the indulgence of
his speculative imagination. Still Xenophon may be regard¬
ed as having presented the most natural, as well as most
exact, specimens of the method of Socrates. In the sim¬
plicity of his honest admiration and grateful recollection of
the instructor and guide of his youth, he evidently records
what had most impressed his own mind, both as to the sub¬
stance and the manner of the conversations of Socrates, with¬
out any attempt either at dramatic or theoretic effect. From
Xenophon we learn how Socrates appeared to the young
Athenian, who, without any theories of his own, approached
him, simply with the desire of hearing him, and applying
what he might learn from the philosopher to his own im¬
provement. Plato, on the other hand, whilst he also has
given a faithful portrait of Socrates in the general outline,
(and the faithfulness is shown by its close correspondence
with that given by Xenophon,) studied to give effect, at the
same time, to his own philosophic sketches, by placing the
figure of Socrates in such a light as to harmonize with his
own sublime and beautiful ideal of truth.
Thus we see how Socrates was the founder of the moral
and logical science of the schools of Athens. He taught
nothing positively in either branch of philosophy, but he
taught men to inquire, and set them on the right track of
inquiry. He trained men to think for themselves, to accept
no opinion which should be contradicted by the moral and
intellectual principles of their own nature, and to rest in no
opinion until they had traced it up to these principles.
An exact logic, and a sound ethical system, would in time
naturally result from such a direction of men’s minds.
In giving account to themselves of their opinions, men
would be led to examine into the connexions and depend¬
encies of their ideas. Observations would be made on the
relations of ideas, and of words as their signs and represen¬
tatives. And such observations methodically stated, would
at length constitute a system of logic, such as that which
Aristotle brought to light about half a century after the death
of Socrates. In the mean time, however, the value of ideas
in themselves, apart from their expression by words, would
engage attention; and a metaphysical logic,—a logic having
for its object the determination of the true notion or idea of
a thing, and for its business the discussion of the probabili¬
ties or appearances of truth surrounding the matter in ques¬
tion,—would naturally be the first to succeed. Such was
the Dialectic of Plato,—a science of discourse or discussion,
as its name imports; not a particular science, like the logic
which grew out of it, but as general in its comprehension
as the method itself of Socrates, of which it was the formal
development, and equivalent, therefore, to philosophy in the
highest sense of that term, as being a search after the na¬
ture of things, or, according to Plato, a theory of Ideas.
Again, in giving account to themselves of their opinions,
men would be led to trace the connexion of their moral sen¬
timents and actions with an internal standard of right, inde¬
pendent of the variations of opinion. The examination of
this relation would suggest, in process of time, a system of
rules for bringing the variable—the sentiments and actions
of the individual moral agent—into accordance with the in¬
variable principles of his moral nature. The first ethics,
identical, like the first logic, with philosophy in general,
would be employed in carrying the views of men to those
great principles themselves.—discussing and removing ob¬
structions to the pure contemplation of the nature of virtue.
But the more mature study of ethics, taking up the subject
as a separate branch of philosophy, would develop the ap¬
plication of the doctrine of the fixed standard, by shewing
throughout the field of man’s moral natuie, how every mo- Socrates,
ral sentiment is strictly limited by its reference to such
a standard. The former is the chief business of Plato’s
ethical philosophy; the latter, that of Aristotle’s;—the first
tending to a contemplative morality, to a love of the tran¬
scendent beauty and excellence of virtue,—the latter, to a
theory of active virtue,—to a regulated state of the affec¬
tions in all the offices of life;—both natural consequences in
their order, of that awakening of the reason of men, of which
Socrates had been the living instrument.
Socrates, at the same time, by the method which he pur¬
sued, taught men the beginning of an art of criticism. From
an examination of existing opinions, the transition was na¬
tural to the systems of philosophers, and the records of the
opinions of men of former days. And, in this respect, So¬
crates may be regarded as the father of the history of phi¬
losophy. Even had the criticism of the writings of philo¬
sophers formed no part of his conversations, still he must
have prompted such an inquiry by his method of inter¬
rogating, and exacting from every one an account of his
opinions. But he did more than this. Though not pro¬
perly erudite, in that sense in which Plato and Aristotle
were, he had yet acquainted himself with the doctrines of
former philosophers. The chief part of his life was spent
with his eye, not on books, but on men. Still, as we are
informed by Xenophon, he had read, and had selected, in
the course of his reading, whatever he thought valuable in
the writings of those before him.1 Plato, accordingly, has
made great part of the conversation of Socrates consist of
criticism of the theories of philosophers. Much of this criti¬
cism evidently belongs to the richly-various and elaborate
learning of the disciple, rather than to the master from whose
lips it proceeds. But that Plato is not gratuitously ascrib¬
ing this kind of learning to Socrates, we see from the man¬
ner in which the less erudite disciple refers to the discus¬
sions by Socrates of the doctrines of former philosophers.
Not only does Xenophon mention, in common with Plato,
the comments of Socrates on the more recent system of
Anaxagoras,2 but he refers also to his examination of the
great antagonist theories of the older schools, of Parme¬
nides, Xenophanes, Melissus, and others, on the one hand;
Heraclitus, Empedocles, and their followers, on the other;
though without formally introducing their names.3
That various and discordant schools of philosophy should
have arisen out of the excitement produced by the energetic
call of Socrates to his countrymen, was in the natural course
of things. Powerful minds, shaking off the yoke of sloth
and indifference, and now at length roused to self-exertion,
would, however generally docile to the guidance of a
leader, be tempted to try their own powers, and strike but
a path for themselves. We are not to wonder, then, that
Aristippus, the advocate of pleasure, and Antisthenes, the
austere cynic, should have been among the hearers of So¬
crates, or that Plato should have founded a contemplative
mysticism on the sober homely philosophy of his master.
Socrates, as we have all along shewn, did not propose any
precise system of doctrine to his followers. His mission
was accomplished in making them exert themselves. He
did not desire that they should think alike, but that all
should think and judge for themselves. It is no wronder,
therefore, that some should have gone into extravagancies,
and that, whilst general good resulted from the excitement,
partial evil also should have accompanied it. An Aristip ¬
pus, or an Antisthenes, could not have issued from the
school of Pythagoras. But how much evil generally may
have resulted from the abject submission to the authorita¬
tive opinions of Pythagoras, in the neglect of self-examina-
1 Xenoph. Mem. i. 6. 14. rbvs Crjcravpovs TrdXai crcxpoov dvdpcop, ovs eneivoi KaTckinop tv fiifiXtois ypaxlsai/res, aveXir', ccr
kowt) aw rots (fnXois Biep^opiai, k.t. X.
* Xenoph. Mem. iv. 7. /
* Ibid. i. 1. 1416.
S O C R
Socrates, tion and self-knowledge, and disregard of personal respon-
by those who implicitly received them?
But whilst we ascribe to Socrates the merit of having
given at once the impulse and the character to Grecian phi¬
losophy, we must yet single out for special commendation,
his admirable services in reviving the forgotten theory of
natural religion among his countrymen. Of religion, indeed,
as an external system of positive laws enforced by the state,
they had, as we have before observed, more than enough. But
religion, as a system of truth, was scarcely thought of. When
Aristophanes1 brings on the stage Demosthenes asking Ni-
cias, well-knowm as Nicias was tor his superstitious feeling;
ereov rjyei yap deovs ; “ really, then, do you think there
are gods ?”2 the allusion is evidently to the real irreligion,
which the most rigid and scrupulous worship of the hea¬
then but ill concealed. Resting their belief of a Divine
agency in the world on tradition and authority, men omit¬
ted to explore the witness of God in their own nature,
and in the world around them. Consequently, they were
exposed to every objection which the ingenuity of theory,
or the folly and wickedness of the world, might suggest
to their uninformed credulity, against the positive truth
of their religious system. As infidelity in these days finds
its refuge in the belief of an infallible church, and is itself in
its turn the miserable refuge from the despotism of the very
infallibility before which it crouches in silence ; so among
the votaries of heathen superstition, the doubts and misgiv¬
ings of the thoughtful intellect, and the troubled heart, were
left to prey on themselves, shut up in abject submission to
an external authority, and unprepared for their own defence
and support. Socrates addressed a great portion of that
practical information, which, in spite of his disclaimer of the
office of a teacher, he was ever imparting to all around him,
to the remedy of this distempered state of the religious feel¬
ings. He saw plainly enough that the vulgar theology
could not be defended on the ground of rational evidence.3
This, therefore, in his respect for the ancient laws and cus¬
toms of his country, he was content to lean on the sanction
of positive institution. A great reverence, he justly thought,
was due to the wisdom embodied in ancient laws ; and he
would not encourage persons wantonly to abandon the pre¬
sumptions of truth and right naturally belonging to establish¬
ed institutions. At least, he would not have men rashly set
up their own notions against the presumptions in favour of the
wisdom of other men and other days, recommended as these
were by some experience oftheir stability and use, whilst each
man’s private opinions had no such sanction, or no equiva¬
lent sanction. But he felt also, that the internal sense of re¬
ligion wanted other support,—that presumptions of human
vanity and corruption were, and ever would be, brought to
bear against this ; and that such assaults could only be re¬
pelled by a well-informed reason prepared for the encoun¬
ter. He therefore provided his hearer with a solid and im¬
pregnable argument in favour of the being and providence
and moral government of the Deity. The argument was
what is now familiarly known as the argument from final
causes, or the evidences of almighty design in the fabric
and course of nature. For this purpose, he gave an induc¬
tion of instances from the world without, and from the
A T E s. 403
intellectual and moral constitution of man himself, of ad- Socrates,
mirable design in the adaptation of means to ends. He
called upon men, with such evidences of divine benevolence
around them, not to wait for any more palpable proof, such
as judging from the analogy of nature they had no ground
to expect, but to believe in the existence of invisible things
from their effects, and from the good received to reverence
the Deity its author. The language, indeed, attributed to
him by Xenophon, is in remarkable correspondence with that
of St. Paul, declaring, that “ the invisible things of God are
clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made,
even his eternal power and Godhead;”4 and the tenor of his
argument throughout illustrates the inspired observation of
the apostle. More particularly we may advert to his striking
inculcation of the doctrine of the moral government of God.
He refers to the sense of responsibility as in itselfan evidence
of the existence of a Divine Power to reward and punish ;5
and he points to the pleasure and pain, advantage and dis¬
advantage, respectively consequent on virtuous and vicious
conduct, in the course of things, as instances of a perfection
of government beyond the power of human laws.6 The
stock of instances has been enlarged by the researches of
modern science, and strength has been added to them by
their arrangement and combination. But Socrates, after
all, has the distinguished merit of having given the argu¬
ment from final causes an explicit statement and due im¬
portance in the proof of natural religion.
When we think that truths of such high import and in¬
terest were sedulously propagated for so many years in the
place of concourse of the civilized world, we naturally turn
from the contemplation of the living philosopher, to ask,
what was the result—what was the amount of beneficial in¬
fluence on the people to whom his mission was addressed.
We cannot doubt, that on the whole the influence was
great,—that the serious errors of many in regard to the
conduct of life were corrected,—their minds opened to con¬
sider the great purposes for which they had been born into
the world, and to look far happiness, not from transitory
sensual enjoyments, but from the sober and vigorous exer¬
tion of their powers of thought and action. In some con¬
spicuous instances, indeed, his endeavours strikingly failed.
Critias and Alcibiades were known wherever the name of
Athens was heard. And their wild and guilty career pre¬
sented to the public eye a splendid mirror, from which the
most unjust censure was reflected on the philosopher him¬
self. But the many instances which must have occurred in
humbler life, of his success in the work of moral reforma¬
tion, are passed over in silence. That there were such in¬
stances Xenophon has given us to understand, when he ob¬
serves, in his simple manner, that Socrates dismissed those
who resorted to him, improved by their intercourse with
him.7 To expect, however, any decisive and permanent
public improvement from the teaching of the philosopher,
would be to overlook the extent and the malignity of hea¬
then corruption. The men of that day, as of the present,
had the voice of God distinctly speaking within them,
“ their conscience bearing witness, and their thoughts ac¬
cusing or excusing them,” according to that just descrip¬
tion of them which Scripture has set before us. But if they
1 Aristoph. Eq. 32. 2 Thucyd. ii. 53, v. 105. ’Ey to delov voplaecos,—and rjyovpeda to detov bo^y,—are expressions of
Thucydides, which shew the low ground on which religion was rested in Greece.
3 Plato, Euthyphro, p. 6. a. ’AAAd p.oi erne npos (friXiov, av <uy aXrjQcos yyfj ravra yeyovevat, ourtoy; k. t.A. Op. i. 12.
4 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 3. 14. "A KarapoovvTa py Karaippoveiu tu>v dopdrav, dAA’ eVc tcov yiyvopevcov ryv bvvapiv avrcov Karapav*
Odvovra npav to baipoviov.
6 Ibid. i. 4. 16. Otei S’ dv rovs Ocovs rots dv8pd>7rois bo^av eptyvcrai, a>s luavoL elcriv ev Kai KaKa>s noLe'lv, ei py bwaroi ycrav",
6 Ibid. iv. 4. 24. Njj top At a, co 2d>/cparey, e<f>y, Atoiy ravra ndvra eaute’ to yap rovs vopovs avrovs tois irapafiaivavcn ras Tipa>-
pias ftf\Ttovos y kot avQpcoirov vopoderov boidi poi eivai. So Bishop Butter, in his Analogy, part i. ch. 2, observes, “ For if
civil magistrates could make the sanctions of their laws take place, without interposing at all, after they had passed them, without a trial,
and the formalities of an execution ; if they were able to make the laws execute themselves, or every offender to execute them upon him¬
self; we should be just in the same sense under their government then, as we are now ; but in a much higher degree, and more perfect
manner.” P. 51. ^ Xenoph. Mem. i. 2. 61. (BcXtIovs yap tvoiSiv tovs avyyiyvopevovs dnenepnev. Also ib. 4. 19; iv. 5. 24.
404 S O C
Spcrates shut their ears, and hardened their hearts against this divine
II instruction, how would they listen to one who was ever up-
Soerabaya. Raiding them with their dulness and inattention to its les-
v"-sons and admonitions ? Rather, they would feel towards
him, according to that apposite illustration of Plato, as per¬
sons dozing towards one that should wake them up, and,
after ridding themselves of his disturbance, think quietly to
compose themselves to sleep again.1 For he did not dis¬
guise that his mission to them was one of reproof and ex¬
postulation,—a mission, in fact, from the Deity ; and that
his real concern, accordingly, was not for himself, but for
the success of his mission, lest they should incur the guilt
of rejecting a divine gift.2 3 *
And truly we may regard that energetic call which he was
ever sounding in the ears of his countrymen, as a provi¬
dential warning to the heathen world of the sin and misery
of the natural man, trusting to his own imaginations,—how,
“ changing the truth of God into a lie,” he “ gives himself
over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with
greediness.” As God sent his prophets to his chosen peo¬
ple, to tell them of their transgressions, and bid them
“ remember the law of Moses his servantso in his
dealings with the nations of the world, He appears to
have raised up, from time to time, individuals from among
themselves, heathens still, yet gifted with a purity of mo¬
ral vision beyond their contemporaries, to retrace the di¬
vine outline of their fallen nature, amidst its ruins, and
to declare almost authoritatively the indelible but forgotten
law of right. Israel rejected its prophets; but through
all the perverseness of the people, those prophets pre¬
pared the way of the Lord. The heathen world, in like
SOCRATES, the name of an ecclesiastical historian of
the fifth century, born at Constantinople in the beginning
of the reign of Theodosius : he professed the law and
pleaded at the bar, whence he obtained the name of
Scholasticus, or the advocate. He wrote an ecclesiastical
history from the year 309, when Eusebius ended, down to
the year 445 ; and wrote with great exactness and judg¬
ment. His Historic/, Ecclesiastica was first published in
1554, by Robert Stephens. It has since been frequently
reprinted, and translated into many of the European lan¬
guages. It has recently been rendered into English, along
with the other ecclesiastical historians of the early centuries
of the Christian era, London, Bagster, 1844.
SODA. See Chemistry.
SODOM. See Palestine.
SOD OR, a name always conjoined with Man, in men¬
tioning the bishop of Man’s diocese. Concerning the origin
and application of this word, very different opinions have
been formed. The most probable derivation of the term,
however, seems to be from Sudereys or Southern Islands,
a name given by the Northmen to the Hebrides, to dis¬
tinguish them from the northern islands, Nordereys, or
Orkneys. The bishop of the isles had his seat at Rushin,
or Castletown, in the Isle of Man, and when that island
became united with England in the reign of Edward III.,
the bishop still retained his title of Bishop of Sodor, or of
Sodor and Man, though the isles had withdrawn them¬
selves from his jurisdiction, and elected a bishop of their own.
SOERABAYA, or Surabaya, the capital of a Dutch
residency of the same name, in the island of Java, on the
N.E. coast, opposite the small island of Madura, 184 miles
E. of Samarang, and 416 E. of Batavia. It is defended by
S O E
manner, refused to listen to its monitors, its legislators, Soerkarta
and philosophers; but in spite of their general obduracy and ||
indifference, we cannot but believe that the call was not ut- ®oest-
terly fruitless. To the original influence of Socrates espe- Vs^v^/
cially, brought as this was to bear on the great centre of
heathen civilization, it may have been in great measure
owing, that the light of religious and moral truth was kept
alive, however faintly burning, for successive generations, in
many a dark abode of superstition ; and that in a later day,
the doctrine of grace and truth appealed not without effect
to the Areopagite of Athens, the jailor of Philippi, and the
Roman proconsul at Paphos. He certainly excited a spirit
of eager curiosity on moral subjects ; as was evidenced in
the rise of the schools of philosophy to meet the demands
of that spirit, and in the moral character of the disquisitions
pursued in them. But this spirit could not have exhausted
itself in mere literary discussion. There were doubtless the
waverings of anxious minds beyond the precincts of the
schools, to be settled ; cravings after more safe direction of
personal conduct than such as the world around them pre¬
sented, to be satisfied. Such a state of things would keep
men looking for gospel-truth. Some would feel, as Alci-
biades is represented by Plato, after a conversation with
Socrates, and Euthydemus by Xenophon, at a loss how to
pray. And to such the answer of Socrates, as given by Plato,
would very indistinctly perhaps, yet not without earnest
hope, suggest the high thought, that they must wait until
they could be informed by God himself, as to the proper
disposition towards God and men ; or until one should
come to discipline them,—to remove the darkness from
their eyes, and enable them to discern both good and evil.5
   (R. d. h.)
several forts, earthen ramparts, and moats. There are
here a town-hall, government offices, a Protestant and a
Roman Catholic church, several schools, large docks, and a
naval arsenal. Besides ship-building and repairing, tanning
and weaving are carried on here ; and the trade of the
place is very important. Rice, sugar, coffee, indigo, hides,
&c., are exported; and European goods are imported.
Soerabaya occupies a very healthy situation, and is at pre¬
sent the most flourishing town in Java. The harbour is
good, but somewhat difficult of entrance. Pop. 100,000.
The residency of Soerabaya is about 60 miles in length
by 40 in breadth. It consists of a low level tract along the
shore, rising inland to a chain of well-wooded hills, attain¬
ing in some places the height of 11,000 feet. The soil is
generally fertile, yielding rice, coffee, cotton, sugar, and
indigo. Pop. 970,000.
SOERKARTA, or Surakarta, a town of Java, capital
of a Dutch residency of the same name, near the centre of
the island, on the Solo, 140 miles W.S.W. of Soerabaya.
It has a Dutch fort, a palace of a native prince, a Protes¬
tant church, and several schools. The inhabitants are
actively employed in weaving and working in leather.
Pop. 100,000. The residency has a fertile soil and salu¬
brious climate. Most of the inhabitants are employed in
agriculture. Pop. 400,000.
SOEST, a town of the Prussian kingdom, province of
Westphalia, government and 13 miles N.N.E. of Arnsberg,
on a hill near the Sbsterbach, an affluent of the Lippe. It
is a curious old town, surrounded with lofty walls and
moats, and entered by five ancient stately gates. The
streets are generally narrow, crooked, and gloomy. Soest
is remarkable for its old churches, of which there are no
1 Plato, Apol. Socr. 31. a. Op. i. 72.
2 Ibid. UoXkov 8eco e’yu> vnep epavrov dndXoye'icrdcu, cos rts nv o’iolto, dXX’ vTrcp vpcdv, prj i^apdprrjre nepl rrjv rod 6eov 86oiv vp.lv,
ipdv Kara\j/r](pi(rdpevou P. 71.
3 Alcib. ii. p. 150, d, UoTe ovv rrapearcu 6 xpovos ovros, to EcoKpares; mi ris 6 naidevocov; rjdia-ra yap dv poi Sok£> Ibuv tovtov
tuv avOpanov ns eanv’ 2. Ovros scrriv o> pe\fi nep\ crov, k.t.X. Op. v. p. 100.
S 0 F
Sofala fewer than ten ; many of them in a very neglected condi¬
tion. Three especially have much interest; the cathedral,
togdiana. an unaltered Romanesque edifice of the eleventh and
twelfth centuries ; the Wiesen-kirche, in the Gothic style,
founded in 1314, completed in the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries, and restored in 1850; and the church of St
Peter, partially Romanesque and partially Gothic in its
architecture. Soest has also a gymnasium, normal seminary,
orphan hospital, courts of law, and public offices. Linen
cloth, hats, hosiery, paper, and leather, are manufactured
here ; and a considerable trade is carried on in corn.
Soest was in the middle ages the largest and most import¬
ant town in Westphalia. Wealthy and strongly fortified,
it was one of the chief members of the Hanseatic league.
It was subject to the archbishops of Cologne, until it was
incorporated in 1449 with the county of Mark. Soest was
the birth-place of the celebrated painter, Sir Peter Lely.
Pop. 9648.
SOFALA, a country on the east coast of Africa, lying
between S. Lat. 19. and 25., between Mozambique on the
N. and Caffraria on the S., extending from the southern
arm of the Zambesi to Delagoa Bay, a distance of about
850 miles. It consists of a low flat sandy or swampy tract
along the coast, and of a loftier mountainous region in the
interior. Several considerable rivers water the country.
Of these the most important are the Boozy or Jarra, the
Sofala, and the Inhamban. The rivers annually overflow
large tracts of country, and some of them are connected
by branches with the Manica in the south, and with the
Zambesi on the north. Some of the rivers are partially
navigable, and form good harbours at their mouths. The
coasts of Sofala are low and beset with shoals, sand-banks,
and small islands. The land along the coast is on the
whole good, producing abundance of rice, and pasture for
flocks and herds. Ivory and bees’ wax are the chief articles
of export; and these are, for the most part, sent to Mozam¬
bique. The native inhabitants of this region belong to
several different tribes. In the interior, near the borders
of the Trans Vaal Republic, which lies to the S.W. of So¬
fala, dwell the Matibele. To the S.E. of them, extending
as far as the sea, are a number of tribes designated by the
Portuguese under the general name of Barbariri. The
coasts towards the south are occupied by the Shembi and
Botonga, and further north by the kingdom of Sabia, which
occupies the land about the delta of the river Sabia. In
the interior an elevated plateau, about the middle of the
country is occupied by the kingdom of Quiteve ; and a
mountainous region further west by that of Quissanga.
The former of these countries produces gold, topazes, and
rubies, while the latter has rich mines of iron and copper.
The most northerly kingdom of Sofala is that of Matuka,
formerly a portion of the extensive empire of Monomotapa.
A great number of the Portuguese settlements in Eastern
Africa lie in different parts of Sofala. They have a total
area of 10,384 square miles, and contain a population of
287,000. The districts of Quilimane, Sena, and Tete,
have an area of 2330 square miles, that of Chikowa 4390,
and that of Zumbo 4664. The Portuguese governor of
these possessions, who is under the general governor at
Mozambique, resides at Sena, a wretched place on the
right bank of the Zambesi, with only 200 inhabitants. At
the distance of 207 miles to the S.W. of this stands Sofala,
formerly the capital ot a kingdom and a flourishing com¬
mercial town. It has a fort and a church, but consists
now ot only about twenty straw-huts.
SOFFIT A. See Glossary to Architecture.
. SOFIA. See Sophia.
SOGDIANA, a name given by the ancients to an ex¬
tensive tract in Central Asia, whose limits were not very
distinctly fixed, but which was separated on the south by
the Oxus from Bactriana and Ariana, and by the Jaxartes
SOL 405
on the north from Scythia. It thus nearly corresponded Sohrau
with the modern Bokhara in Turkestan, part of which is II
still known by the name of Sogd. The district is partly Solario.
mountainous, but contains many fertile valleys and exten-
sive wastes. In the time of Alexander, who visited the
country, there were large forests abounding in game. The
inhabitants resembled those of Bactriana, and were probably
of Indian descent. There is no good ground for believing
that Sogdiana contained many large towns. Those men¬
tioned in the accounts of Alexander’s expedition were in
all likelihood merely forts erected to defend the country
against the barbarians on its borders.
SOHRAU, a fortified town of the Prussian monarchy,
in the province of Silesia, government and 51 miles S.E.
of Oppeln, on a hill in the midst of a marshy but well-
wooded region. It has manufactories of woollen and cot¬
ton cloth, linen and damask. Pop. 3950.
SOIGNIES, a town of Belgium, in the province of
Flainault, on the Senne, 9 miles N. of Mons, on the road
from that town to Brussels. The church of St Vincent in
this town was built in the tenth century, and still retains
portions of the original fabric. The houses of Soignies are,
for the most part, well and regularly built. There are a
town-hall, two hospitals, an alms-house, and several schools.
Beer, spirits, leather and soap, are made here; limestone is
extensively quarried in the vicinity, and a considerable trade
is carried on in it and in chalk. Pop. 6727. The forest
of Soignies lies between Brussels and Waterloo, and is 15
miles in length by 6 in breadth.
SOIL. See Agriculture.
SOISSONS, an ancient city of France, capital of an
arrondissement in the department of Aisne, on the left
bank of the Aisne, 60 miles N.E. of Paris. The town,
along with its suburb St Vaast, on the other side of the
river, is inclosed with fortifications ; and these two portions
are connected by a handsome stone-bridge. The streets
are straight and regular, and the houses generally well
built of stone. Among the public buildings, the most re¬
markable is the old cathedral, a dilapidated edifice, par¬
tially repaired. The Abbey of St Jean-des-Vignes, which
afforded a retreat to Thomas a Becket when in exile, has
been all destroyed, except the west end of the church and
its two towers and spires. Soissons contains also a good
public library, a college, ecclesiastical seminary, courts of
law, theatre, baths, and public walks. Carpets, woollen
and linen cloth, hosiery, twine, leather, paper, beer, &c.,
are made here ; several fairs and markets are held; and a
considerable .trade is carried on, especially with Paris.
Soissons is one of the oldest cities of France. It is the
ancient Noviodunum, and obtained its present name from
the Suessones, in whose territory it stood. Plere Clovis, in
486, by defeating Syagrius, put an end to the Roman
power in Gaul, and established that of the Franks. It was
for some time the capital of the country, and was the scene
of many important events in its mediaeval history. In the
campaign of 1814 it was twice captured by the allies, and
as often recovered by the French. Pop. (1856) 7875.
SOLARIO, Antonio de, generally called “ II Zingaro,”
or the gipsy, was born about 1382 at Chi vita in the Ab-
ruzzi. This is Dominici’s account of his origin, but others
contend that he was born in Venice. At all events, the
young gipsy had adopted the trade of a strolling black¬
smith, and was admitted in that capacity to the house of
Colantonio del Fiore, the Neapolitan painter, on account of
his skill, it is said, in making implements of iron. Solario
fell in love with the painter’s daughter, and Colantonio
would only consent to their union on condition that he
should renounce the furnace and the hammer for the easel
and the brush of the painter, and that he should become
distinguished as an artist. The romance of this story
closely resembles that of Quintin Matsys. Solario at once
406 SOL
Solder agreed, and set out for Bologna, where he became the
pupil of Lippo Dalmasio. Leaving Bologna, he studied
v So11, y with undiminished zeal the works of the best artists in the
various schools of Italy. He made exquisite heads, exe¬
cuted respectable compositions in historical subjects, drew
drapery with care, but was very clumsy in the handling of
his hands and feet. Nine years after he left the studio of
Colantonio, he again presented himself; but on this occa¬
sion he did not appear in the blacksmith’s apron, but in
the purple gown of the artist. Colantonio had now forgot¬
ten the young gipsy. Solario discovered himself, and be¬
came the son-in-law of the artist. He is afterwards said to
have painted and taught art in Naples, under King Al-
phonso, till 1455, when he died. The school of Zingaro
afterwards made considerable noise in Italy. (See the works
of Dominici, Moschini, and Lanzi.)
SOLDER, Sodder, or Sober, a metallic or mineral
composition used in soldering or joining together other
metals. Solders are made of gold, silver, copper, tin,
bismuth, and lead. In the composition there must com¬
monly be some of the metal that is to be soldered mixed
with some higher and finer metals. Goldsmiths usually
make four kinds—viz., solder of eight, where to seven parts
of silver there is one of brass or copper; solder of six,
where only a sixth part is copper; solder of four and of three.
SOLDIN, a town of Prussia, on the shore of a lake of
the same name, in the province of Brandenburg, govern¬
ment and 42 miles N.N.E. of Frankfurt-on-the-Oder. It
is walled, and entered by three gates ; and it has a fine
market-place and several churches. Extensive manufac¬
tures, chiefly of cloth, are carried on here; and pearl mus¬
sels are obtained in the lake. The town is said to have
been founded in 1212, and was at one time the capital of
the Neumark, a division of Brandenburg. Pop. 5518.
SOLECISM, a false manner of speaking, contrary to
the rules of grammar, either in respect of declension, con¬
jugation, or syntax. The word is Greek, (oroAoiKtcr/xos,) de¬
rived from the Soli, a people of Attica, who, being trans¬
planted to Cilicia, lost the purity of their ancient tongue,
and became ridiculous to the Athenians for the improprie¬
ties into which they fell.
SOLENT, The, the western part of the strait which
separates the Isle of Wight from England. Its western
extremity, where it opens into the English Channel, is be¬
tween Hurst Point and the Needles; its eastern, where it
joins with Southampton Water to the north, and Spithead
to the east, between Fort Monckton and West Cowes. Its
length is 18 miles, and its average breadth 3. Though its
navigation is somewhat intricate, the Solent affords a good
anchorage and sheltered roadstead for vessels.
SOLESMES, a town of France, in the department of
Nord, arrondissement and 12 miles E. of Cambrai, on the
Salle. It has an ancient Benedictine abbey, now again
occupied by the monks; and the parish church is a hand¬
some building, with a lofty tower, and some fine statues.
Lawn, merino, cotton cloth, leather, beer, soap, and other
articles, are manufactured here. Pop. 4868.
SOLEURE. See Solothurn.
SOLFA (Ital), a musical exercise for the voice when
learning to sing, in which the syllables do, re, mi, fa, sol,
la, si, are applied to their respective notes in the exercise.
SOLFERINO, a village of Lombardy, near Castiglione.
It was formerly the seat of a prince of the same name, and
has an old ruined castle ; but it is chiefly remarkable for the
victory gained here by the French and Sardinians over the
Austrians, June 24, 1859. (See Sardinia.)
SOLI, an ancient town of Asia Minor, on the coast of
Cilicia, between the rivers Lamus and Pyramus, from each
of which it was about 62 miles distant. Colonists from
Argos in Greece, and Lindus in Rhodes, are described as
the founders of the town, which is first mentioned in his-
SOL
tory at the time of the expedition of the younger Cyrus. Solicitor
In the days of Alexander the Great it was so wealthy that |j
that conqueror exacted from its inhabitants a fine of 200 SolinianIL
talents (L.50,000). In the war between Mithridates and the
Romans, Soli was destroyed by Tigranes, but subsequently
rebuilt by Pompey, who settled there many of the pirates
whom he had captured, and called the town after himself,
Pompeiopolis. Soli was remarkable as the birth-place of
Chrysippus, one of the ablest of the Stoic philosophers; of
Philemon and Aratus, celebrated poets. The bad Greek
that was spoken there has given rise to the term “ Solecism,”
found in all the modern languages of Europe. Extensive
ruins still mark the site of the town.
SOLICITOR. In the article Attorney, the sub¬
stance of the statute 6 and 7 Viet. c. 73, is stated, relating
to the qualifications required for the admission on the rolls
of the superior courts in England, as well of solicitors as
attorneys, the stamp-duties they have to pay, the service of
a clerkship, and the examination to be passed. The prac¬
titioners in chancery, or courts of equity, are termed “ So¬
licitors,” and in the common law-courts, “ Attorneys-at-
law.” Attorneys were first recognised by the statute of
Merton, 20 Henry III., in 1235; but solicitors were not
mentioned in any statute till the 3 James I. Formerly, in
both classes of courts, the proceedings were taken by clerks
in court, a limited body of men, to whom the business of
the suitors was brought by attorneys or solicitors, so that
in each action or suit there were two agents for each liti¬
gant, and the expense was largely increased. In the
Queen’s Bench and the Common Pleas this was reformed;
but it was not till 1830 that the Exchequer of Pleas was
thrown open to the attorneys. In the Court of Chancery
the offices of six-clerk and sworn-clerk were abolished in
1842, and their duties transferred to the solicitors.
The jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts in regard to
wills and administrations, and divorce and matrimonial
causes, was also abolished in August 1857, and attorneys
and solicitors, as well as proctors, enabled to practise in the
new courts of probate and divorce, with liberty to the
proctors to be admitted within a year on the rolls of the
courts of law and equity.
Thus the practitioners in all these courts now consist
of barristers or advocates, and of attorneys or solicitors,
except in the probate and divorce courts, where proctors
also are entitled to practise.
A bill is pending in Parliament to establish further tests
of the educational qualifications of attorneys and solicitors,
and for their better regulation. (r. m—M.)
SOLIHULL, a town of England, in the county and 12
miles N.W. by N. of Warwick ; 103 N.W. by W. of Lon¬
don. It is generally well built, and has two principal
streets, several handsome houses, and a town-hall. The
parish church is a large cruciform edifice, in the decorated
and perpendicular styles, surmounted by an elegant spire;
there are also Baptist, Independent, and Roman Catholic
churches; a grammar-school, free school, charity school,
and others; a public library and reading-room. An annual
fair is held here. Pop. of the parish, 3277.
SOLIMAN II., emperor of the Turks, surnamed the
Magnificent, was the only son of Selim L, whom he suc¬
ceeded in 1520. He was educated in a manner very dif¬
ferent from the Ottoman princes in general; for he was in¬
structed in the maxims of politics and the secrets of govern¬
ment. He began his reign by restoring those persons their
possessions whom his father had unjustly plundered. He
re-established the authority of the tribunals, which was
almost annihilated, and bestowed the government of pro¬
vinces upon none but persons of wealth and probity. “ I
would have my viceroys,” he used to say, “ resemble those
rivers that fertilise the field through which they pass, not
those torrents which sweep every thing before them.”
solingen
I!
Solis.
SOL
After concluding a truce with Ishmael Sophy of Persia, and
subduing Gozeli Bey, who had raised a rebellion in Syria,
he turned bis arms against Europe. Belgrade was taken in
1522, and Rhodes fell into his hands the year following
after an obstinate and enthusiastic defence. In 1526 he
defeated and slew the king of Hungary in the famous battle
of Mohatz. Three years afterwards he conquered Buda,
and immediately laid siege to Vienna; but after continuing
twenty days before that city, and assaulting it twenty times,
he was obliged to retreat with the loss of 80,000 men.
Some time after he was defeated by the Persians, and dis¬
appointed in his hopes of taking Malta. He succeeded,
however, in dispossessing the Genoese of Chio, an island
which had belonged to that republic for more than two
hundred years. He died at the age of seventy-six, while
he was besieging Sigeth, a town in Hungary, on the 30th
August 1566.
SOLINGEN, a town of the Prussian monarchy, province
of the Rhine, government and 13 miles E.S.E. of Diissel-
dorf, on a hill above the Wupper. It is an ancient place,
and has long been celebrated for the manufacture of cut¬
lery ; the art of making sword-blades, as practised at Da¬
mascus, having been introduced here, as it is said, in the
twelfth century. The manufacture of all sorts of hardware
still flourishes here ; and the cutlery of Solingen is not only
highly prized in Europe, but largely exported to Asia and
America. It is estimated that there are prepared here
annually about 300,000 sword-blades, 500,000 dozen knives
and forks, and 200,000 dozen pairs of scissors. Solingen
contains Protestant and Roman Catholic churches, a syna¬
gogue, and a commercial school. Pop. 7949.
SOLIS, Antonio de, an eminent Spanish historian and
poet, was born on the 18th of July 1610, in Alcala de
Henares, the birth-place of Cervantes, and completed his
studies at the University of Salamanca. He began early to
write, having produced a drama at the age of seventeen. He
had just reached his majority when he gave to the theatre
his Gitanilla, or the Pretty Gipsy Girl, founded on a story
by Cervantes, which by skilful management in the plot, and
by purity and harmony in the versification, secured it a
place on the Spanish stage, and has caused its reproduction
since by Rowley and Middleton in the Spanish Gipsy, and
its imitation in some parts of Longfellow’s Spanish Student.
This gained for him the friendship of Calderon, with whom
he remained on terms of intimacy, occasionally writing for
him the preludes to his dramas. Solis was not so success¬
ful in his One Fool makes a Hundred, but he regained his
place by his Love d la Mode. In 1642 he prepared for a
festival at Pamplona, a dramatic entertainment of no great
merit, on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Solis was
now made one of the royal secretaries, and he continued to
write for the king’s private theatre, and for the public dra¬
matic entertainments of the capital. In the former capa¬
city he produced his Triumphs of Love and Fortune, a
wild, poetical drama, written on occasion of the birth of a
prince.* Tired of the hollow splendour of courts, and long¬
ing for religious retirement, he withdrew from his secre¬
taryship, submitted to the tonsure, and, in 1677, as the
official historiographer of the Indies, he laid down the plan
of his Conquest of Mexico. The period it embraces is less
than three years, but a period of greater brilliancy and
atrocity has seldom fallen to the lot of annalist. Solis,
aged as he was, seems to have had his old blood made
young again as he contemplated, with his artist’s eye and
with his human heart, the daring and the crimes of his
historical heroes. His style is altogether his own. It is
rich and beautiful, and largely tinctured with the racy old
idiom of Castile. “ In boldness of manner,” says Ticknor
{Hist, of Span. Lit., vol. hi., 152), “he falls below Men¬
doza, and in dignity is not equal to Mariana; but for
copious and sustained eloquence he may be placed by the
SOL 407
side of either of them.” The work attained to a great Solitaries
popularity, which it has maintained down to our own time. ||
The Conquista was published at Madrid in 1684. The Solon,
best edition is in 2 vols., Madrid, 1783. The author,
however, was now a poor old man; and the sale of his
book, although remarkable for the time, did not do much
to enrich him. “ I have many creditors,” says Solis, “ who
would stop me in the street, if they saw I had new shoes
onand again, this brilliant historian is found asking a
friend for a warm garment to protect him from the cold of
winter. It is the old story. He died at Madrid on the
19th of April 1686, in his seventy-sixth year. An edition
of the Varias Poesias of Solis was published in 1692.
SOLITARIES, a denomination of nuns of St Peter of
Alcantara, instituted in 1676. The design of the institu¬
tion was to imitate the severe penitent life of that saint.
Thus they were to keep a continual silence; never to open
their mouths to a stranger; to employ their time wholly in
spiritual exercises, and leave their temporal concerns to a
number of maids, who had a particular superior in a sepa¬
rate part of the monastery. They were always to go bare¬
footed, without sandals ; gird themselves with a thick cord,
and wear no linen.
SOLLER, a seaport town of Spain, in the island of
Majorca, 14 miles N. of Palma. It has narrow, well-paved
streets; and contains a church, several schools, an hospital,
a suppressed convent, and linen and cotton factories. The
harbour is unprotected, and exposed occasionally to a heavy
sea; but a considerable trade is carried on in oranges, oil,
and linen. Pop. 7034.
SOLO (Ital.), a term used in musical compositions of
several parts, to mark those voices or instruments that are
to perform alone or in a more prominent manner—as so¬
prano solo, violino solo, &c. The plural is used when two
or more voices or instruments of the same name are to per¬
form alone. Solo is also a name given to a composition
written for a single instrument, such as a violin, an oboe,
a flute, &c., which is accompanied by a bass for the violon¬
cello, or a thorough-bass for the pianoforte.
SOLOFRA, a town of the kingdom of Naples, in the
province of Principato Ultra, 7 miles S.E. of Avellino. It
is well built, and contains many fine churches, monasteries,
and nunneries. Woollen cloth, leather, parchment, and
jewellery are made here. Pop. 6300.
SOLOMON, the son of David king of Israel, renowned
in Scripture for his wisdom, riches, and magnificent temple,
was born b.c. 1033. Towards the end of his life he sullied
his former glory by his apostacy from God; from which
cause vengeance was denounced against his house and na¬
tion. He died about 975 b.c.
Solomon, Song of. See Canticles.
Solomon’s Islands. See Austkalasia.
SOLON, one of the seven wise men of Greece, was born
at Salamis, about B.C. 638, of Athenian parents, who were
descended from Codrus. His father leaving little patri¬
mony, he had recourse to merchandise for his subsistence.
He had, however, a greater thirst after knowledge and fame
than after riches, and made his mercantile voyages subser¬
vient to the increase of his intellectual treasures. He very
early cultivated the art of poetry, and applied himself to
the study of moral and civil wisdom. When the Athenians,
tired out with a long and troublesome war with the Megaren-
sians, for the recovery of the isle of Salamis, prohibited any
one, under pain of death, to propose the renewal of their
claim to that island, Solon thinking the prohibition dis¬
honourable to the state, and finding many of the younger
citizens desirous to revive the war, feigned himself mad,
and took care to have the report of his insanity spread
through the city. In the meantime he composed an elegy
adapted to the state of public affairs, and committed it to
memory. Everything being thus prepared, he sallied forth
408 SOL
Solor. into the market-place with the kind of cap on his head
which was commonly worn by sick persons, and ascending
the herald’s stand, he delivered to a numerous crowd his
lamentation for the desertion of Salamis. The verses were
heard with general applause ; Pisistratus seconded his ad¬
vice, and urged the people to renew the war. The decree
was immediately repealed; the claim to Salamis was re¬
sumed ; and the conduct of the war was committed to Solon
and Pisistratus, who by means of a stratagem defeated the
Megarensians and recovered the island.
His popularity was extended through Greece in conse¬
quence of a successful alliance which he formed among
the states in defence of the temple at Delphi against the
Cirrhaeans. When dissensions had arisen at Athens be¬
tween the rich creditors and their poor debtors, Solon was
created archon, with the united power of supreme legis¬
lator and magistrate. He soon restored harmony between
the rich and poor. He cancelled the debts which had
proved the occasion of so much oppression ; and ordained
that in future no creditor should be allowed to seize the
body of the debtor for his security. He made a new dis¬
tribution of the people, instituted new courts of judicature,
and framed a judicious code of laws, which afterwards be¬
came the basis of the laws of the Twelve Tables in Rome.
Among his criminal laws are many wise and excellent re¬
gulations ; but the code is necessarily defective with respect
to those principles which must be derived from the know¬
ledge of the true God and of pure morality, as the certain
foundations of national happiness. Two of them in parti¬
cular were very exceptionable—the permission of a volun¬
tary exile to persons that had been guilty of a premeditated
murder, and the appointment of a less severe punishment
for a rape than for seduction. Those who wish to see
accurately stated the comparative excellence of the laws of
Moses, of Lycurgus, and Solon, may consult the prize
Dissertations relative to natural and revealed religion,
published by the Teylerian Society of Haarlem, vol. ix.
The interview which Solon is said to have had with
Croesus king of Lydia; the solid remarks of the sage after
surveying the monarch’s wealth ; the recollection of those
remarks by Croesus when doomed to die, and the noble
conduct of Cyrus on that occasion, are known to every
schoolboy; but it is to be feared they are somewhat my¬
thical. Solon died in the island of Cyprus at a very ad¬
vanced age, probably about 559 B.c. Statues were erected
to his memory both at Athens and in Salamis. His thirst
after knowledge continued to the last: “ I grow old,” said
he, “ learning many things.” Among the apophthegms
and precepts which have been ascribed to Solon are the fol¬
lowing :—“ Laws are like cobwebs, that entangle the weak
but are broken by the strong.” “ He who has learned to
obey will know how to command.” “ In all things let rea¬
son be your guide.” “ Diligently contemplate excellent
things.” “ In every thing that you do, consider the end.”
The chronology of his life is involved in no small ob¬
scurity. His legislation may, with some degree of confi¬
dence, be referred to the year 594 before Christ; but, as
a very learned and able chronologer has remarked, since
both his age and the time of his death are doubtful, no¬
thing can be with certainty affirmed of the year of his birth.
(Clinton’s Hellenici, vol. ii., p. 301.) According to
Laeertius, he died at the age of eighty; but Lucian ex¬
tends his life to 100 years. Of the poems of Solon, an
elaborate edition has been published by Bach, under the
title of Solonis Atheniensis Carmina quce Supersunt,
Bonnae, 1825, 8vo. Additional information respecting
the life and labours of Solon may be had by consulting
the Grecian Histories of Thirlwall, vol. ii., and of Grote,
vol. iii.
SOLOR, a small island in the Malay archipelago of the
eastern extremity of Flores, S. Lat. 47., E. Long. 123. 8.
SOL
It is 30 miles in length by 15 in breadth, and is partly Solothum
mountainous and rich in iron. The inhabitants are for the ^
most part Malays. Those on the coast recognise the su¬
premacy of the Dutch, while a portion of the island be¬
longs to the Portuguese.
SOLOTHURN (Fr. Soleure), a canton of Switzerland,
in the N.W. of the country, lying between N. Lat. 47. 5.
and 47. 30., E. Long. 7. 20. and 8. ; having on the north
the canton of Basel, east that of Aargau, south and west
that of Bern. Its form is exceedingly irregular; its
length from N.E to S.W. is 36 miles ; greatest breadth,
18; area, 290 square miles. The surface consists of two
portions, one mountainous, occupied by the Jura range,
and the other low, consisting chiefly of the valleys of the
Aar and Emmen. The former comprises the north-western
and the latter the south-eastern portion of the canton. The
Jura Mountains extend from S.W. to N.E., and form a
number of distinct parallel ridges, at no great distance from
each other. The highest summits within the limits of
Solothurn are the Weissenstein and the Hasenmott in the
south-west, the latter being 4400 feet above the sea. The
ridge nearest the low country is here the loftiest; those
further north gradually diminish in height to little more
than 1000 feet. In the lower part of the canton the chief
river is the Aar, which flows in a somewhat irregular course
from S.W. to N.E. Its chief affluent from the mountains
is the Dunnern, while on the other side it receives the
Emmen. On the north side of the mountains a few small
streams take their rise and flow directly into the Rhine;
the others swell the current of that river by means of the
Aar. The mountain-ridges in the canton are composed of
the Jura limestone, and their slopes are covered with
numerous large blocks of granite and gneiss. The soil is
on the whole fertile, not only in the lower but even in
some of the more elevated tracts. In the lowlands all the
ordinary kinds of corn are grown in super-abundant
quantities. The mountains are partially covered with
forests of excellent timber, especially fir and beech ; and
there are many fine upland pastures and meadows. The
canton contained in 1854—45,245 acres of arable land,
57,778 of meadows and pasture land, 445 of vineyards,
52,800 of forests, and 30,329 of uncultivated land. Vines
are grown only in a few places, mulberry-trees are culti¬
vated, and silk-worms reared. The inhabitants are em¬
ployed to a large extent in pastoral pursuits, and especially
in breeding cattle. In 1854 there were 4305 horses,
27,109 horned cattle, 8467 sheep, 7259 goats, and 17,409
swine in Solothurn. The number of milch cows was
10,901, producing 4910 cwt. of cheese and 5500 cwt. of
butter. Several important mineral deposits are found
within the limits of the canton. Extensive beds of iron
lie at either base of the mountains; several mines are in
operation, and the ore is smelted and worked at Balsthal
and Klus, near the middle of the canton. About 1865
tons of iron are annually produced. The country has
also valuable quarries of limestone, some kinds of which
are susceptible of a high polish, and go by the name of
Solothurn marble. Excellent millstones are also obtained
from this canton. Manufactures are not carried on to any
great extent in Solothurn, and they are rather declining
than increasing in importance, leather, paper, and woollen
cloth being the principal articles made. Commerce, how¬
ever, is in a flourishing condition. The horse fair held in
the capital is one of the most frequented in Switzerland.
The inhabitants are for the most part Roman Catholics,
there being in 1850 only 8097 Protestants in the canton.
A dialect of German is generally spoken. The means of
education are widely diffused, and all children above seven
are obliged to attend school. The government, according
to the constitution of 1831, is republican. The legislative
power belongs to the great council of 109 members,
SOL
joiothurn elected every six years by colleges of electors for each of
|| the ten circles or districts into which the canton is divided.
Solway Thg executive consists of a smaller council of nine, elected
Firtl1' , by the members of the great council from their own num-
ber. The head of the government has the title of
Landamman. Solothurn is represented in the Federal
Assembly of Switzerland by three, and in the Council of
Estates by two members. The total population in 1850
was 69,674, of whom 64,044 were citizens of the canton,
4652 citizens of other cantons, and 933 foreigners.
Solothurn, or Soleure, the capital of the above canton,
stands at the foot of Mount Jura, on the Aar, here crossed
by two bridges, 18 miles north of Bern. It was at one
time regularly fortified ; but the defences have been in
recent times demolished, in pursuance of an order of the
great council in 1835. The streets are broad, regular, and
well paved, and there is a spacious market-place adorned
with a fine fountain. Here stands the Cathedral of St
Ursus, one of the finest churches in Switzerland, with a
massive square tower 190 feet high. The town-hall is an
ancient irregular building, with several turrets; and the
government-house, arsenal, museum, theatre, and two
churches, are handsome buildings. Solothurn has also a
gymnasium with six professors, a lyceum with three, and a
town library of 20,000 volumes. A few manufactures of
cotton cloth, paper, leather, and hardware are carried on ;
and there is a small amount of trade. It was at Solothurn
where the Polish patriot Kosciusko spent the last two years
of his life, and where he died in 1817. Pop. 5370.
SOLSTICE, the time when the sun is in one of the
solstitial points, that is, when he is at his greatest distance
from the equator. It is thus called because the sun then
appears to stand still, and not to change his distance
from the equator for some time, owing to the obliquity of
our sphere, to which those living under the equator are
strangers. The solstices are two in each year; the aesti-
val or summer solstice, and the hyemal or winter solstice.
The summer solstice is when the sun seems to describe the
tropic of cancer, which is on June 22, when he makes the
longest day ; the winter solstice is when the sun enters the
first degree, or seems to describe the tropic of capricorn,
which is on December 22, when he makes the shortest
day. This is to be understood of the northern hemi¬
sphere ; for in the southern the sun’s entrance into capricorn
makes the summer solstice, and that into cancer the
winter solstice. The two points of the ecliptic, at which
the sun’s greatest ascent above the equator, and his descent
below it, are terminated, are called the solstitial points ;
and a circle, supposed to pass through the poles of the
world and these points, is called the solstitial colure. The
summer solstitial point is in the beginning of the first de¬
gree of cancer, and is called the (estival or summer point;
and the winter solstitial point is in the beginning of the
first degree of capricorn, and is called the winter point.
These two points are diametrically opposite to each other.
SOLWAY FIRTH, an inlet of the Irish Sea, partially
separating England from Scotland, and washing the shores
of Kirkcudbrightshire and Dumfriesshire in the latter, and
those of Cumberland in the former. It stretches inland,
from S.W. to N.E., for 31 miles, and its breadth from the
head as far down as the mouth of the Annan is 2 miles;
between Southerness Point in Kirkcudbright and Allonby
in Cumberland, it expands to 7 miles; and at its mouth,
between Rayberry Head and St Bees Head, it is 20 miles
across. The chief rivers that fall into the Solway Firth
are the Urr, Nith, and Annan from Scotland, and the
Derwent, Ellen, Waver, Wampool, and Eden from Eng¬
land. A great part of the firth is occupied by broad sand¬
banks, which are dry at low water. The tides both ebb
and flow here with great rapidity and force ; and bores are
formed at the mouths of several of the rivers. The Sol-
vol. xx.
SOM 409
way Firth is navigable for its whole length for vessels Solymania
of 100 tons, and for those of 300 tons a considerable ||
distance. Somerset-
SOLYMANIA, called also Shehr Zaur, a town of Kur- v shir<^y
distan, the residence of the Pacha. The town had fallen ^
into decay, but was rebuilt by Solyman the Pacha, vrho, in
1810, having taken up arms against the Pacha of Bagdad,
defeated him and put him to death. Pop. 6000 ; 54 miles
east of Kerkook.
SOMALPET, a town of Hindostan, in the Nizam’s pro¬
vince of Nandere, 52 miles N.N.E. from the town of
Nandere.
SOMAULI, or Somali. See Africa.
SO MB OR, or Zombor, a city of the kingdom of Hun¬
gary, in the province of the hither Danube, in the circle*
of Kozep Jaras. It contains 2980 houses, with 14,860
inhabitants, whose chief trade is in corn and cattle. Lat.
48. 8. 32., Long. 21. 10. 33. E.
SOMERS, John, Lord, high chancellor of England,
was born at Worcester about 1650 or 1652. He was edu¬
cated at Oxford, and afterwards entered himself at the
Middle Temple. In 1688 he was one of the counsel for
the seven bishops at their trial, and argued with great
learning and eloquence against the dispensing power. In
the convention which met by the Prince of Orange’s sum¬
mons, January 22, 1689, he represented Worcester, and
was one of the managers for the House of Commons at a
conference with the House of Lords upon the word “ abdi¬
cated.” Soon after the accession of William and Mary to
the throne, he was appointed solicitor-general, and received
the honour of knighthood. In 1692 he was made attorney-
general, and in 1693 advanced to the post of lord-keeper
of the great seal of England. In 1695 he proposed an
expedient to prevent the practice of clipping the coin. In
1697 he was created Lord Somers, baron of Evesham, and
made lord high chancellor of England. In the beginning
of 1700 he was removed from his post of lord chancellor,
and the year after was impeached of high crimes and mis¬
demeanours by the House of Commons, of which he was
acquitted upon trial by the House of Lords. He then re¬
tired to a studious course of life, and was chosen president
of the Royal Society. In 1706 he proposed a bill for the
regulation of the law, and the same year was one of the
principal managers for the union between England and
Scotland. In 1708 he was made lord president of the
council; from which post he was removed in 1710, upon
the change of the ministry. In the latter end of Queen
Anne’s reign his lordship grew very infirm in his health,
which is supposed to be the reason that he held no other post
than a seat at the council table after the accession of King
George I. He died of an apoplectic fit in 1716. Addison
has drawn a flattering view of his character in the Free¬
holder. His life has been carefully written by Lord Camp¬
bell, in his Lives of the Chancellors.
SOMERSETSHIRE, a county in the west of England,
lying between N. Lat. 50. 49. and 51. 30; W. Long.
2. 14. and 3.50; bounded on the N.W. by the Bristol
Channel, N.E. by Gloucestershire, E. by Wiltshire, S. by
Dorsetshire and Devonshire, and W. by Devonshire. Its
boundary-line has considerable irregularities,and its general
form is that of a crescent. Its greatest length from E. to
W. is 68 miles; extreme breadth, 43; area, 1645 square
miles, or 1,052,800 acres. The county is hilly, and is
divided naturally into three parts by two ranges of hills,
between which lie wide plains and valleys. 1 he two
ranges are the Mendip Hills and the Quantock Hills. I he
former extend from the hills near Frome, on the borders
of Wiltshire, in the direction of W. by N., to the Bristol
Channel. Their length is 25 or 30 miles ; their breadth,
6 or 7 in some places ; and several of their summits exceed
1000 feet in height. In the W. of the county rise the
8 F
410
Somerset*
shire.
SOMERSETSHIRE.
Quantock Hills, the other principal ridge in Somersetshire.
Their direction is nearly parallel to that of the Mendip
Hills, and their culminating point is Bagborough Station,
or Will’s Neck, 1270 feet above the sea. A greater ele¬
vation, 1668 feet, is reached by Dunkerry Beacon, still
further W. than the Quantock Hills. Besides these hills,
there are in the extreme N.E. of Somersetshire several
peaks, irregularly grouped, about Bath and Bristol. Such
are Lansdown, 813 feet high ; Dundry Hill, 790 feet; and
several others. The eastern and southern boundaries of
the county, from Bath to Yeovil, and from thence to Wel¬
lington, are also occupied by detached heights, broken by
several transverse valleys. To the N.E. of the Mendip
Hills, between them and these about Bristol and Bath, the
country is watered by the Avon and the Yeo—the former
marking the boundary between Somersetshire and Glou¬
cestershire, and both falling into the Bristol Channel. The
central portion of the county, between the Mendip and the
Quantock Hills, is watered by the Axe, the Brue, and the
Parret, all flowing N.W. into the Bristol Channel. The
last of these rivers is joined by the Isle ; another Yeo,
also called the Ivel; and the Tone, which waters the
region to the S.W. of the Quantock Hills. Between the
last of these rivers and the Parret, lies an elevated tract
about 100 acres in extent, called the Isle of Athelney,
where Alfred the Great is said to have fled for refuge from
the Danes. It was anciently secluded from the surround¬
ing country, not only by these rivers, but by a marsh
which has been long since drained. In some parts of the
county there are still extensive marshes—as about the
mouths of the Yeo and other rivers in the N.E.—and also
between the Mendip and the Quantock Hills. The coast
is indented by several bays of small, and by one of con¬
siderable size. The last is Bridgewater Bay, about the
middle of the coast, where its direction changes from a
southerly to a westerly one. Of much smaller size are
Sand Bay, and Uphill Bay to the N., and the shallow Bay
of Porlock to the W. of that of Bridgewater. The greater
part of the shore of Somersetshire is lined with sands,
but these are in general of no great breadth ; and the
country immediately behind them is either occupied with
hills, more or less lofty and steep, or with low marshy tracts
of ground. Indeed, hilly as Somersetshire is, there is in it
a larger extent of marshes and fens than in most of the
counties of England. The geological formation of the
country is various. Oolitic strata prevail in the N.E.;
and it is of these that the hills in this quarter are formed ;
and from these is obtained the stone generally known as
Bath stone. The oolite is quarried at Dundry Hill and
other places. Beneath these deposits beds of lias are ge¬
nerally found. New red sandstone occupies the valley of
the Avon, and is surmounted in some places by limestone.
There are several beds of coal in this region, as well as
strata of old red sandstone and mountain limestone. The
former of the two last forms the central ridge of the Men¬
dip Hills, flanked on either side with bands of moun¬
tain limestone. The hills on the eastern and southern
boundary of the county are of the same geological forma¬
tion as those in the N.E. The western part of Somerset¬
shire consists chiefly of old red sandstone and slate; the
latter, which is similar to the slaty rocks of Devonshire,
forming the wild region called Exmoor Forest, W. of the
Quantock Hills. The hills themselves consist of a coarse
gritstone, belonging also to the slate formation in the N. of
Devonshire. The climate of Somersetshire is healthy, and
well suited to the production of the crops usual in England.
The soil, too, is in general good, though presenting a con¬
siderable variety in different places. On the Mendip and
Quantock Hills, as well as in Exmoor Forest, the country is
very bleak and barren; and is valuable more for the
minerals beneath the surface, than for any productions of
the soil. These hilly and barren portions of the county, Somerset-
however, bear but a small proportion to the whole; and shire,
between them are to be seen the richest meadows and Vs,—
arable land, the value of which more than counterbalances
the sterility of the hills. In the better parts of the county,
it may rather be described as rich than beautiful. The
wide vale of Taunton has a very rich soil, and produces
large crops of excellent wheat. There are no extensive
forests, but upwards of 20,000 acres in various parts are
covered with wood; which is, in many places, of a large
and stately description. The extent of orchards, espe¬
cially when in full bloom, produces a pleasing effect,
and in some measure compensates for the want of woods.
Wheat, oats, and barley are the kinds of corn most ex¬
tensively raised. Next to them come potatoes, beans,
flax, and hemp. Many improvements in agriculture have
been recently introduced; although, even yet, the county
cannot be said to be distinguished for the excellence of its
farming.
As Somersetshire contains, on the banks of its rivers,
large tracts of the richest meadow lands, the most valuable
branch of its rural economy is the fattening of cattle and
the management of the numerous dairies. The oxen, bred
chiefly in the less fertile pastures of Devonshire, when
grazed in this county, afford the best beef; and furnish, in
great numbers, the markets of the metropolis, as well as
those of Bristol and Bath, in their immediate vicinity.
Sheep of the Leicester or Southdown breeds are fed in
large numbers on the more elevated pastures of the county.
Large numbers of hogs are fattened, and the bacon of
Somersetshire is of excellent quality. The produce of the
dairy is of the best kind. The cheese of Cheddar has
obtained great celebrity, but that made in many other
parts, and frequently sold as Gloucester, is equal to any in
the world. The next agricultural product is cider, which
forms almost the universal beveragd of the working classes.
The consumption of it within the county is very large, and
some is sent to distant parts. The county also contains a
few hop gardens.
The mineral resources of Somersetshire are very con¬
siderable. Of metals, the most important found here is
iron, which is obtained in various places, near Bristol, in
the Mendip Hills, and in the Brendon Hills, in the extreme
west of the county. The total quantity of ore raised
in Somersetshire, in 1858, was 26,041 tons; valued at
L.13,021. Lead and silver are also obtained from the
Mendip Hills. Of the former, there were raised in 1858
1000 tons of ore, yielding 435 tons of metal ; and of the
latter, 1295 ounces were obtained. The existence of coal
in some places has already been noticed. There are in all
thirty-five collieries. No separate return is given of the coal
produced in this county; but the total for Gloucestershire,
Somersetshire, and Devonshire, in 1858, was 1,125,250
tons. Other valuable minerals are obtained in the county,
such as building-stone, slate, gypsum, &c.; zinc, calamine,
and copper exist, but are not worked to any great extent.
This is a manufacturing district for various productions.
The manufacture of fine woollen cloth is extensive, chiefly
at Frome, where it employs a large number of hands ; and
it is also carried on at Road, at Beckington, Charter-Hen-
ton, Twerton, near Bath, Lyncombe and Wedcombe, and
at Freshford. In another part of the county, at Welling¬
ton and Milverton, cloth of an inferior description is
manufactured. A considerable number of men are em¬
ployed in making sail-cloth, sacking, and girth-web, at
Crewkerne and the parishes of East Coker, Merriot, West
Hatch, and North Perrot. At Chard and at Ilminston,
silk and lace, and the machinery for those fabrics, are made;
and the same trades afford considerable occupation at
Bruton and Taunton. At Yeovil, and some of the towns
and villages near it, the chief trade is glove-making, which
SOM
Somerset- gives employment to a great number 'of people. Edge
shire, tools are made at Wells, and also at Whately, Emborrow,
and some other places. At Nailsea the manufacture of
glass is carried on ; paper-making and tanning at Cheddar;
and there are also in the county an iron-work, and a
furnace in blast.
The foreign commerce of Somersetshire passes chiefly
through Bristol, which is the mart for such goods as are
required in distant countries. Some of the woollen goods
which are manufactured at Taunton and Wellington are
shipped from Exeter. The far greater portion of the pro¬
ductions of the county are, however, destined to supply the
demand for internal consumption. The cattle, butter, and
cheese are chiefly sent to London; the linen and woollen
goods are distributed through the western and Welsh
counties, and, in general, are destined more for the home
than for foreign markets.
The means of internal communication are roads, rail¬
ways, and canals, all of excellent construction. There are
two roads from London to Bristol, uniting near Bath ;
another from Bristol to Bridgewater, and thence to Taunton
and Exeter; one from London through Salisbury and
Yeovil to Exeter; and many others. The Great Western
Hailway enters the county near Bath, and extends to
Bristol. From this place the Bristol and Exeter Railway
traverses the county, and passes Bridgewater and Taunton.
Short branches connect this line with Cleveden, Weston-
super-Mare, and Gastonbury. The Wilts, Somerset, and
Weymouth Railway diverges from the Great Western, and
passes Frome, Castle Cary, and Yeovil. There is also another
line from the last of these towns to the Bristol and Exeter
Railway. All these lines are on the broad guage, being
connected with the Great Western. The chief canals in
Somersetshire are a small part of the Kennet and Avon
Canal, which connects the Avon with the Thames; the
Somersetshire Coal Canal, a branch of the former, extend¬
ing to Paulton ; the canal from Glastonbury to the lower
part of the Brue; and that from Bridgewater to Taunton.
The civil divisions of the county are the eastern and the
western, each of which contains 2000. Almost the whole
of it belongs to the diocese of Bath and Walls ; which is
subdivided into the arch-deaconries of Bath, Wells, and
Taunton. According to the census of 1851 Somerset¬
shire contained, in all, 1129 places of worship, with 288,333
sittings. Of the former, 553 belonged to the Church of
England, 309 to Wesleyan Methodists, 110 to Independ¬
ents, 89 to Baptists, 15 to Quakers, 12 to Brethren, 8 each
to Unitarians and Roman Catholics, 6 to Mormonites, &e.
The whole number of day-schools, at the same period, was
1381, with 53,720 scholars. Of these 490 were public
schools, with 36,512 scholars; and 891 private schools,
with 17,208 scholars. There were also 719 Sunday-schools,
attended by 56,090 pupils; and 19 evening schools for
adults, attended by 272. Of the last, however, 17 were
also used as day-schools.
1 he titles derived from this county are those of the
Dukes of Somerset and Wellington ; the marquises of Lans-
downe, Bath,and Bristol; the Earlsof Poulett and Ilchester;
and the Baron Mendip. Since the reform bill each division
of the county has returned two members to the House of
Commons. The seats of the nobility and gentry, especially
of the latter, near Bath and Bristol, are numerous; and
our limits allow only of noticing the most distinguished of
them, viz., Longleet, the seat of the Marquis of Bath;
Hinton, the seat of Earl Poulett; and the houses of the
Earl of Carnarvon, Sir Alexander Hood, Mr Miles, and
Colonel Gore Langton.
1 wo members are chosen for each of the cities of Bath
and Wells, and two for each of the boroughs, Taunton and
ndgewater. Bristol, which is partly in this county, re¬
turns two members. The boroughs of Minehead, Ilches-
S 0 M
411
ter, and Milburn-Port, which chose two members each, Somerton
have been disfranchised, and the town of Frome has been ||
made a parliamentary borough, returning one member. Soniervile.
Ilchester contains the jail and county court, but the assizes
in the spring are held at Taunton, and in the summer at
Wells and Bridgewater alternately.
Somersetshire contains antiquities belonging to almost
every period of English history. There is a druidical
circle at Stanton Drew, near Bristol; Roman camps at
Bath, Ilchester, and several other places; Saxon camps at
Wiveliscombe, Porlock, and elsewhere; ancient abbeys at
Glastonbury, and Muchelney; several ruined priories;
cathedrals at Bath and Wells, and numerous old churches.
Among the illustrious natives of this county are Roger
Bacon, born at Ilchester, Blake at Bridgewater, Cudworth
at Aller, Fielding at Sharpam, and Locke at Wrington.
Some important historical events are connected with So¬
mersetshire. It was anciently inhabited by a tribe called the
Hedui, in the east, and by the Cimbri in the west. Under
the Romans it was included in the province of Britannia
Prima. At the time of the Saxon invasion this county
was the scene of sharp conflicts between the invaders and
the Britons ; and King Arthur defeated the Saxons under
Cerdic, at Mount Baden, supposed to be in the vicinity of
Bath. 1 his occurred in 520; and it u'as not till about
658 that Somersetshire was finally conquered by the Saxons.
1 here were also several conflicts in this county at a later
era between the English and the Danes. From this time
onwards, however, no important events took place here till
the great civil war of the seventeenth century. In 1643,
the parliamentary forces were defeated at Lansdown Hill,
near Bath; and Taunton was defended for a long time by
Blake against 10,000 Royalist troops, until it was relieved
by Fairfax in 1645. Somersetshire was also the scene of
the unfortunate expedition of Monmouth against Charles
II. in 1685. He landed in Dorsetshire on the 11th of
June; and after taking Bridport by storm, proceeded
through Taunton to Bridgewater and Glastonbury. After
an unsuccessful attack on Bristol, he was defeated by the
king’s forces, and obliged to fall back on Bridgewater.
Here he made a last effort to gain a victory by surprise,
but was totally defeated at Sedgemoor, 4 miles S.E. of
Bridgewater. This was, according to Lord Macaulay, the
last fight deserving the name of a battle that has been
fought on English ground. The county suffered severely
from the severities of the victorious party after the sup¬
pression of the rebellion. The population of Somersetshire,
at the several periods of the census, has been as follows:—
(1801) 273,577; (1811)302,836; (1821)355,789; (1831)
403,795 ; (1841) 435,599; (1851) 443,916.
SOMERTON, a market-town of England, Somerset¬
shire, on the left bank of the Cary, 28 miles S.W. of Bath.
It has several very narrow streets; an old church, with an
octagonal tower ; a county jail, occupying the site of an old
castle; places of worship lor Independents and Wesleyan
Methodists, schools, and almshouses. Many of the people
are employed in glove-making. Pop. of the parish 2140.
SOMERVILE, William, an English poet, said by
Johnson to have been born in 1692, but from a note fur¬
nished by Johnson’s latest editor, Cunningham, it would ap¬
pear that he was born as early as 1677, at Edstone, a country
seat of his family in Warwickshire. He was educated at
Westminster School, and at New College, Oxford. He
gave no great proofs of genius while he was at College,
but on leaving it he went to reside at the family mansion,
where he cultivated poetry, sought pleasure as a sportsman,
was hospitable, was a justice of the peace, and, in short, was
generally esteemed an easy, careless, cultivated country
gentleman. Somervile inherited an estate worth L.1500
a-year, out of which he allowed his mother L.600, but he
was too heedless of economy, and perhaps a little too much
412 S O M
Somma addicted to the pleasures of the table, so that in his later
II years he became involved in debt, from which he was only
^Somme. ^ re]ieveci foy death on the 19th of July 1742. Shenstone,
the poet, says of him, that he was “forced to drink him¬
self into pains of the body, in order to get rid of the pains
of the mind.” He was buried at Wotton, near Henley-
in-Arden, Warwickshire.
Somervile tried many kinds of poetry; but his best suc¬
cess is attained in his poem of the Chase, 1735, which is
written in blank verse, with sufficient knowledge of his
subject, and with very considerable acquaintance with
the requirements of the species of verse which he had
selected. He has done all that transition and variety could
easily effect to interest the common reader, but the versi¬
fication frequently drags heavily, and the poem only escapes
dulness by the novelty of its passing events, and by the
efforts at originality which the writer so obviously puts forth.
He wrote, besides other poems, the Two Springs, 1725;
Hobbinol, or the Rural Games, 1740; and Field Sports,
1742. His poetical excellence may be fitly summed up in the
words of Johnson, “ he writes very w’ell for a gentleman.”
SOMMA, a town of Italy, Lombardy, not far from the
Ticino, near the foot of Lake Maggiore, 27 miles N.W. of
Milan. It is an ancient, well-built town, containing a
handsome palace, a court of law, and two parish churches.
There are also here some remains of antiquity ; and a
cypress-tree of gigantic size and great age. It was near
Somma that Hannibal gained his first victory on Italian
ground, completely defeating the Homans under Scipio,
B.c. 218. The town has some trade in wine and silk, and
a population of 4000.
Somma, a town of the kingdom of Naples, in the province,
and 9 miles E. of Naples, at the north foot of Mount Ve¬
suvius. It contains a castle, several churches and monas¬
teries, a college and an hospital. The northern summit of
Vesuvius, anciently known as Mons Summanus, is now
called Monte Somma. Some trade is carried on at Somma
in wine and fruit. Pop. 7000.
SOMME, a department of France, bounded on the N.
by that of Pas-de-Calais ; E. by that of Aisne ; S. by that
of Oise; W. by Seine Inferieure and the English Channel.
Its . length from E. to W. is about 80 miles, its greatest
breadth 47, and its area 2379 square miles. The surface
is for the most part flat and monotonous; but is diversified
in some places with low hills, gentle slopes, and pleasant
vales. The general inclination of the country is towards
the north-west; and in this direction all the rivers flow.
Of these the largest is the Somme, which gives its name to
the department, and flows through its centre. Its source
is in the department of Aisne, not far from St Quentin;
and after flowing for about 20 miles to the south-west, it
enters this department near Ham, and pursues a north¬
westerly course to the sea. Its whole length is 115 miles,
and it is navigable as far as Abbeville for vessels of 150
tons. From the left it receives the Ayre and the Celle;
from the right the Miraumont, Nieve, and Maie. The
Authie and the Bresle, the only other important rivers, flow
nearly parallel to the Somme ; the one forming the northern,
and the other the southern boundary of the department.
I he coast, which is about 25 miles in length, is divided by
the mouth of the Somme into two nearly equal parts, of
very different character. To the north of the river the sea
is kept back from the low lying country by a series of low
sand-hills; to the south it washes a line of cliffs of chalk,
c ay, and marl, whose yielding substance has been in many
places worn away by the violence of the waves. The line
of coast has undergone considerable change, even within a
historical period; for, in the ninth century, the sea covered
the low ground north of the Somme for several miles in¬
land. I his tract was afterwards occupied by a large lake,
and now forms one of the most fertile portions of the de-
S 0 M
partment. There are no considerable bays or indentations Sommer-
on the coast. The whole of the department consists in its feld
geological structure of cretaceous strata, covered in general II
with a sandy clay. The country has a climate resemblino-Sornmi6reSi
that of the south of England, moist, variable, and temperate.
It is exposed to all the winds, and those from the north¬
west are injurious to vegetation. Although the soil is not
by nature very fertile, and the scenery by no means strik¬
ing or romantic, the country everywhere presents an ap¬
pearance of solid prosperity and quiet happiness. Its well-
cultivated ground affords to the traveller the prospect of
meadows and corn-fields stretching almost beyond the reach
of sight, orchards laden with fruit, extensive farms, and
numerous villages, whose inhabitants, though poor, are not
miserable. Of the whole surface, 1,190,000 acres are
occupied by arable land, 37,650 by meadows, 127,500 by
forests, and 20,000 by waste land. Agriculture has made
much progress recently, so that the country is considered
one of the granaries of France. Besides corn, pulse, beet¬
root, hemp, and flax are the chief crops raised. The
forests are not very extensive, but yield a valuable supply
of timber. Horses, cattle, and sheep are reared in large
numbers. The number of horned cattle in the department
is estimated at 120,000, that of horses at 80,000, that of
mules at 3200, of asses at 8000, of sheep at 500,000, of
pigs at 70,000, and of goats at 5000. There are no im¬
portant minerals in the department, except peat, of which
a large quantity is annually obtained. Building-stones and
paving-stones are quarried to a small extent; and clay for
brickmaking is found in abundance. Although most of the
inhabitants are employed in agriculture, manufactures are
also carried on to a considerable extent. Amiens and
Abbeville are the chief manufacturing towns, and woollen
and cotton fabrics are their staple produce; cloth, lace,
velvet, gauze, muslin, &c., being made. Besides these,
Somme has also bleachfields, dye-works, tanneries, paper-
mills, breweries, distilleries, oil-works, &c. . The chief
articles of trade are the rural produce of the country, and
the manufactured goods. Numerous roads and several
railways traverse the department; by means of the latter
Amiens is connected with Paris, Boulogne, and Lille.
There is also a canal, which stretches along the side of the
Somme nearly to its source; and, by a junction with that of
St Quentin, connects it with the Schelde, Oise, and Seine.
Somme forms the diocese of Amiens; and contains several
courts of law, subject to a court of appeal in that town.
Education is provided for by a lyceum, a secondary school
of medicine, two communal colleges, a normal seminary,
and 1100 elementary schools. The capital is Amiens; and
the department is subdivided as follows:—
Arrondissements. Cantons. Communes. Pop. (1856).
Amiens  13 253 191,413
Abbeville  11 171 137,596
Doullens   4 49 59,447
Montdidier  5 144 08,124
Teronne  g 184 llo’<)39
Total 41 850 566,619
SOMMERFELD, a town of the Prussian monarch)', in
the province of Brandenburg, in the government and 45
miles S.S.E. of Frankfurt-on-the-Oder. It is surrounded
by walls; and has a church and a castle, manufactures of
woollen and linen cloth, and some trade. Pop. 5672.
SOMMIERES, a town of France, in the department of
Gard, 15 miles b.\\. of Nismes, on a hill near the left bank
of the Vidourie. It was formerly fortified ; and was a place
of some importance in the civil wars of the sixteenth cen¬
tury, being frequently held by the Protestants. The walls
are all destroyed; but the castle still remains. Woollen
cloth, leather, brandy, &c., are manufactured; and there is
some trade in wine and wool. Pop. 3697.
413
SOMNAMBULISM,
MAGNETIC OK ARTIFICIAL.
Soranam- Under the title Somnambulism it is proposed in the fol-
bulism. lowing article to give a brief history of the various pheno-
mena which have at different times been described under
the names of Mesmerism, Animal Magnetism, Magnetic
Somnambulism, Hypnotism, &c. In the last edition of the
Encyclopcedia Britannica, the first class only of these phe¬
nomena received a full treatment.
Neither of the appellations “Animal Magnetism” and
“ Somnambulism” are free from serious objections, inasmuch
as they express theoretical views as to the nature of the sub¬
ject which many reject as altogether untenable. But long
usage has given them too strong a hold upon the public
mind to warrant their rejection now, and the other names
which have been suggested are not less objectionable than
those now mentioned. The different writers on these phe¬
nomena have advanced very various theories as to the na¬
ture of the mysterious and occult agency engaged in their
production, but there has been an all but uniform tendency
to connect them with magnetic and electrical forces. It is
only in more recent times that attempts have been made to
dissever them from this connection, and to explain them
upon purely nervous and subjective principles. Though the
introduction of the phenomena of somnambulism by the
Marquis de Puysegur was extremely distasteful to Mesmer,
caused no inconsiderable revolution in the doctrines and
practice of animal magnetism, and exercised a permanent
and powerful influence upon its subsequent fortunes and
development, it was not considered, either by Mesmer or
Puysegur, to be an essential departure from the fundamen¬
tal principles of the mesmeric theory. The influence or
energy at the foundation of both was considered to be iden¬
tical. The phenomena of somnambulism were believed to
have been abundantly manifested in the operations of
Mesmer, and to have frequently occurred in the magnetic
crisis ; but it was only in the practice of Puysegur that they
were prominently brought forward and made the subject of
special observation. It is in the same way that many
phenomena, daily seen and casually observed, are found to
have an importance and significance which was scarcely
even suspected till they have been made the subject of
special research and earnest observation. The connection
between mesmerism as propounded by its founder, and
somnambulism as developed by his pupil, is so intimate
both in their historic and intrinsic relations, and the one is
so directly the sequel and consequence of the other, that
they cannot with justice be dissociated from eath other. It
is on this ground, therefore, that we propose to treat them
both together, and, inasmuch as magnetic somnambulism
is that form of the mesmeric theory which has descended
almost without change to our own time, and has entirely
superseded the original phase of the doctrine, we have
thought it right to treat of the whole subject under this
designation.
The term Animal Magnetism has been employed to
denote an agency or influence to which certain singular
phenomena, occurring, or said to occur, in the economy of
particular individuals, have been supposed to be attributable.
The phenomena which this agency has been conceived to
produce in those who are under its influence, may be com¬
prehended under two distinct classes: those which occur
whilst the person operated upon remains awake, and those
which take place whilst the patient is in a state of sleep, or
in a state resembling it. To the former class of effects
belong—various sensations, more or less painful, expe¬
rienced particularly in those parts of the body that are the Somnam-
seat of disease, and which enable the practitioner to detect bulism.
what that seat actually is; secondly, convulsive and other
nervous affections, which have been regarded by the advo¬
cates of animal magnetism as salutary crises; and, thirdly,
the removal of any diseases with which the persons mag¬
netised may be affected, the magnetic influence proving in
this respect an universal curative of disease and preserva¬
tive of liealth. Under the latter class of effects, or those
occurring while the persons magnetised are in the state of
magnetic sleep, may be included the power they acquire
of carrying on a continued conversation with their mag-
netiser, without being at all sensible of the presence or
conversation of others, and sometimes in a language and
upon matters with which, in their natural or waking state,
they are little if at all acquainted; the power of dis¬
covering the secret thoughts of others; the power of
receiving, through the medium of the epigastrium, or
other parts of the circumference of the body, those im¬
pressions of external objects which, in ordinary circum¬
stances, are received only through the peculiar organs of
external sensation, or that power which, in the technical
language of magnetism, is shortly termed the transference
of the senses; the power of detecting the internal altera¬
tions which have been produced by disease in their own
bodies, or in those of others with whom they may be placed
in animal-magnetic relation; the power of foretelling the
nature of the changes which are to occur in their own
maladies, or in the maladies of others ; the power of instinc¬
tively suggesting the remedies by which these changes may
be best promoted, and the cure of the diseases accom¬
plished ; together with various other extraordinary, or, as
they have usually been deemed where they have been sup¬
posed to occur, preternatural powers of a similar kind.
These two classes of phenomena belong to different periods
of the history of animal magnetism. To those of the first
class chiefly the early practitioners of this mysterious art
confined their pretensions, and it was only at a later period
that the magnetisers laid claim to the power of producing
the wonderful manifestations included under the second
class. At the outset we shall make a few remarks on Mes¬
merism before Mesmer.
It seldom happens that any great discovery has been made Mesmerism
without its appearing that some traces and indications, more before
or less distinct, of the phenomena to which it relates have Mesmer*
been manifested at some time or other, anterior to the period
of its publication. We see this illustrated with respect to the
application of steam-power, the electric telegraph, and many
other important discoveries. Moreover, it we go back to
periods of remote antiquity, and examine the records, scanty
and imperfect though they may be, of nations and races
who possessed a more ancient civilization than our own, we
shall find frequent evidence of the existence of sciences and
arts, which we might otherwise suppose had only made
their appearance at a much later period in the world’s his¬
tory. We shall find that, in Egypt, in India, and in China,
there was much progress made in many of the departments
of science and an, at a time when Europe was still in a
state of barbarism. The histories of these remote periods
are now enveloped in much obscurity, and the traces of the
existence of practices analogous to those of mesmerism
are very faint. On Egyptian and Assyrian inscriptions
and hieroglyphs there are some representations of persons
apparently employed in mesmeric manipulations. Artifi-
414
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam- cial somnambulism is believed to have been practised by
bulism, tbg Brahmins and Faquirs of India fi om a vei y eai ly period;
and there is little doubt that it is not only known and
practised by them at the present day, but also that their
knowledge has been handed down by tradition from ancient
times and not derived from their intercourse with European
nations. The Jesuit missionaries of China also testify to
the existence in that empire of modes of treatment analo¬
gous to those of mesmerism. To come to times nearer
our own, it is believed by some that there are many pas¬
sages to be found in the writings of Greek and Roman
authors which can only be rightly interpreted, on the sup¬
position that there were modes of practice known to the
Greek and Roman physicians which did not widely differ
from those employed in mesmerism. It was used as an
argument against mesmerism by Bailly, in the discussion of
the French Academy of Medicine in 1825, that the pheno¬
mena exhibited by the mesmerised were in many respects
comparable to those manifested in the Eleusinian Mysteries
of the temple of Ceres, and to those witnessed in the cave
of Trophonius. It was also averred that they bore some
analogy to what was witnessed at the rites of the Bona
Dea, at the shrine of the Delphic oracle, and in the Forest
of Dodona. Whatever may have been the nature of these
ancient rites and ceremonies, we know too little of them to
use them with effect either for or against any modern sys¬
tem which may be supposed to bear any analogy to them.
But it is important to note the existence, throughout all
historic ages, of practices which bear some similarity to
those of which we are about to treat in this place. In the
passages quoted from ancient writers, as in the verses
ascribed to Solon, and in the lines from Plautus and Mar¬
tial, the allusions certainly point strongly to the practice of
rubbing with the hands for the purpose of assuaging pain.
The miraculous cure by the Emperor Vespasian of a case
of blindness by inunction of saliva, at the instance of Sera-
pis, as recorded by Tacitus, seems to have been a very
manifest plagiarism of the miracle performed by Christ, and
cannot, with any justice be described, as has been done by
Mr Colquhoun, to be a “ magnetic cure.” Setting aside
the hypothesis, that mesmerism had certain features in
common with the witchcraft and magic of superstitious
times, we come to a period not long anterior to the time of
Mesmer, when opinions were broached with respect to
magnetism which have a very direct and important bearing
upon his peculiar views. This portion of the pre-mesmeric
history of magnetism has been very well elucidated by
Mr Colquhoun, Deleuze, Thouret, and others, who cite
numerous authors, writing during the sixteenth and seven¬
teenth centuries, who entertained opinions concerning
magnetism extremely analogous, in many respects, to those
which were subsequently propounded by Mesmer, as we
shall afterwards see. Mesmer, at the outset of his career, and
in concert with the astronomer, Father Hell, commenced
with the employment of real magnets in the treatment of
disease. But at a later period he saw fit to renounce the
use of real magnets, and announced the idea that the heal¬
ing virtue did not reside in the mineral magnet, but emanated
from his own person. Even in those cases which at first
appeared to be benefited by the application of magnets to
different parts of the body, he ascribed the curative power,
not to the inherent property of the magnets, but to some
quality which he communicated to them by touch. Ihis
quality, in contradistinction to that which naturally resides
in the magnet, and which has been called mineral magne¬
tism, he designated by the name of animal magnetism.
Before the time of Mesmer, the therapeutic power of the
magnet, both in powder and entire, had been held from the
earliest time ; and during two centuries that other so-called
magnetical power, which Mesmer imagined he had just
discovered to belong to the human frame, was well known
and described in terms not very unlike those which Mesmer Somnam-
himself afterwards employed. A brief notice of the history bulism.
of the use of the mineral magnet in medicine, and of the
theory of animal magnetism, which was in vogue before
Mesmer promulgated his views, will complete our sketch of
the history of mesmerism before the lime of Mesmer. We
shall just glance at the therapeutic history of the magnet
or loadstone. The mysterious attractive property of this
inorganic substance, which Reichenbach has recently at¬
tempted to show has a counterpart in the organic world—
the animal magnetism of Mesmer and his followers, at¬
tracted very early attention, and it was not long in being
enlisted among the number of therapeutic agencies. It is
not necessary to dwell upon the various marvellous and
contradictory virtues which were ascribed to it by different
professors of the healing art. By some it was looked upon
as a noxious, by others as a salutary substance ; by some it
w'as regarded as a moral, and by others a physical agent.
Powdered, it was given internally as an evacuant for drop¬
sies ; and, so late as the sixteenth century, there were few
diseases in which the powder was not considered to be
beneficial. Externally it was employed in diseases of the
eyes, and for burns. As a plaster it w'as applied to poisoned
wounds, in order to exhaust the offending substance. It
was termed the divine plaster, and was used generally by
surgeons, to purify wxmnds from all manner of malignity,
and to favour the generation of healthy flesh. Although Dr
Gilbert of Colchester had shown in 1600 that the properties
of the magnet are destroyed by pulverization, practitioners
continued to use it up to the beginning of the eighteenth
century. Since then it has become obsolete. The history
of the powdered magnet is the same with that of a hundred
other substances which have figured in therapeutic annals.
Of how many of the much-vaunted remedies of our own
times the same history will hold good, time alone can reveal.
The use of the entire magnet, or of bodies known to pos¬
sess genuine magnetic properties, dates from a very early
period. A glance at the history of the magnet as a thera¬
peutic agent will conduct us to the discovery of Mesmer,
the first development of which sprung from the use of the
metallic magnet; a circumstance which contributed more
than anything else to give the name of animal magnetism
to that class of phenomena with which the name of their
discoverer has also become indissolubly united.
AStius is the first Greek author who mentions the thera¬
peutic virtues of the unpulverized magnet. When held in
the hand, it was reported to prove beneficial in allaying the
pains of gout, and in curing convulsions. The employment
of the magnet for similar purposes is alluded to by other
Greek, and by some Arabian physicians, but it was Para¬
celsus who first brought the virtues of the magnet most
prominently into repute. He attributes to it the property
of dislodging and attracting towards itself all material dis¬
eases. The list of these diseases is very extensive, and it
was much increased by his followers, and by several medi¬
cal authors of the eighteenth century, more especially by
Van Helmont, Borel, Reichel, Klarich, and Kircher. It
was employed in the treatment of mania, epilepsy, tetanus,
hernia, dropsy, jaundice, ulcers, hysteria, spasms, and a
host of other diseases too numerous to mention.
After the discovery of the artificial magnet, an attempt
was made by M. le Noble, a French abbe, to introduce this
agent into medical practice. He employed these magnets
sometimes temporarily, and of great size and power, upon
different parts of the body; but for more general and per¬
manent use he had them formed into different pieces of
ornamental and useful dress, such as caps or bandeaux for
the head, necklaces, crosses, bracelets, girdles, and garters.
By frequent and numerous trials he convinced himself that
his magnetic dresses and ornaments were often speedy and
effectual means of cure in a great variety of diseases. In
S 0 M N A M
Somnam- 1777 he applied to the Royal Society of Medicine of
bulism. Paris to appoint a committee of investigation, in order to
W'' make an experimental trial of the medicinal virtue ot his
magnets. The society acceded to his request, and ap¬
pointed MM. Andry and Thouret to undertake the task,
and report to them the result of their investigation. 1 he
commissioners devoted themselves assiduously to the task,
and reported very favourably of the effects which they had
observed to follow the use of magnets and magnetic
dresses. Notwithstanding the very favourable report of
MM. Andry and Thouret, the artificial magnet did not
prosper as a therapeutic agent. Its virtues, however, con¬
tinued to be mentioned with favour by such men as Alibert,
Laennec, Recamier, and Chomel.
In reviewing this laborious and most minute investigation
of the numerous and greatly varied effects which were
observed to occur after the application of artificial magnets,
we cannot but feel some degree of surprise that no suspicion
should have arisen in the minds of the experimenters, that
some of these effects might be the result of those spon¬
taneous operations of the economy itself, which, from the
earliest periods of medical science, have been known under
the appellation of the Vires Conservatrices et Medicatrices
Naturae; that others were the effect of a proper and
stricter attention perhaps to clothing, diet, and regimen
than had been previously employed ; and that the greater
part of the sudden cures were probably the result of hope,
engendered by belief in the efficacy of the remedy and
confidence in those who applied it, or of other mental im¬
pressions, the influence of which, in producing remarkable
and sudden effects upon the corporeal and mental functions
of the human economy, ttnd in promoting the operation of
remedial agents, has long been recognized by medical men
under the general, but not always accurately defined, term
of the power of imagination.
Though somewhat later in point of time than the first
announcement of the discoveries of Mesmer, we may here
notice shortly, in connection with the use of magnets, the
metallic tractors of Mr Perkins, which were introduced
from America about the end of last century, and obtained
considerable repute both in England and on the continent.
They consisted of an alloy of different metals. They were
rounded at one extremity, and pointed at the other. The
diseased parts were directed to be rubbed or touched by
the sharp point, which was also to be drawn over them in
different directions, according to circumstances. The intro¬
duction of these tractors into England excited a great degree
of attention. It occurred to Dr Haygarth, of Bath, to test
their intrinsic value by a series of experiments, in which
tractors, made of lead, wood, and old nails, covered with wax
so as to resemble as near as possible the tractors of Perkins,
were employed. It was found that effects as remarkable
as those which had been observed to follow the use of the
genuine tractors were produced by the factitious articles.
The nature of the facts elicited by the experiments of
Dr Haygarth, Mr Smith, and others, was such as to prove,
to the satisfaction of every one, that the metallic tractors
of Mr Perkins did not produce their effects upon the
human system by any action peculiar to themselves, but
by some influence or agency altogether independent of the
particular materials of which the instruments were com¬
posed, and common to them with every other substance,
mineral and vegetable, that was employed in the same
manner. Dr Haygarth himself had no hesitation in
ascribing these effects to the influence of the imagination.
“I have long been aware,” says he, “of the great impor¬
tance of medical faith. Daily experience has constantly
confirmed and increased my opinion of its efficacy. On
numerous occasions I have declared that I never wished to
have a patient who did not possess a sufficient portion of it.
The trials with the false tractors place its efficacy in a very
BULISM. 415
conspicuous point of view, and must even astonish persons Somnam-
who have particularly attended to this subject; they clearly bulism.
prove what wonderful effects the passions of hope and
faith, excited by mere imagination, can produce upon
diseases. On this principle we may account for the mar¬
vellous recoveries frequently ascribed to empirical remedies,
which are commonly inert drugs, and generally applied by
the ignorant patient in disorders totally different from
what the quack himself pretends that they can cure.
Magnificent and unqualified promises inspire weak minds
with implicit confidence.”
These experiments are worthy of being recalled to the
attention of the public, and of being kept in mind by
those who are at present endeavouring to revive the use
of natural or artificial magnets as therapeutic agents,
the more so that it does not appear to have occurred to
MM. Andry and Thouret, nor to those who have since em¬
ployed the magnet, to put the results which they obtained
from the use of that agent to the test, by a comparative
series of trials of the description suggested by Dr Haygarth.
However conclusive the experiments of Haygarth
may have been against the intrinsic merits of Perkins’
tractors, they are claimed as corroborating the reality
and value of animal magnetism, inasmuch as it is main¬
tained that the effects, though not proceeding from the
tractors themselves, emanated from the person of the oper¬
ator, just as they proceeded from the persons of Mesmer
and Puysegur, through the intervention of the iron-rods,
buckets, and trees which they employed in their practice.
We shall now glance briefly at the theories prevalent for
two centuries before the time of Mesmer, in which we
shall find not merely obscure foreshadowings, but an
almost complete development of those peculiar doctrines
which have rendered his name famous. It is true that
we shall not find any trace of the paraphernalia which he
employed in the practical application of his doctrines to
the cure of disease, but it is sufficiently admitted that his
buckets and rods were not essential elements, but merely
subsidiary appliances fitted to produce a suitable impression
on the minds of his pupils and patients. It will be suffi¬
cient, therefore, if we demonstrate an identity of principle
without insisting upon an identity of practice.
The belief in the efficacy of the magnet, whether ad¬
ministered internally or applied externally, in curing
diseases, seems, with most of those who adopted it, to
have constituted only a part of a great system, in which
they recognised magnetism as a general power or principle
pervading the whole universe, and establishing particular
connections between all its various parts, lo these mutual
relations of the different parts of the universe, material
and animated, they give the names, sometimes of attraction
and repulsion, and sometimes of sympathy and antipathy.
Gilbert, to whose work upon the magnet reference has
already been made, conceived that the earth is a great
magnet, which acts and is acted upon by the other planets
in the universe ; and that this planetary influence opeiates
upon all the bodies, animate and inanimate, which exist
upon the surface of our globe. Fludd, in his Philosophia.
Moysaica. published in 1638, developed a theory of the
universe, in which its phenomena were mainly accounted
for by the attractive or magnetic virtue, and the antipathy
of bodies. Man, considered as the microcosm, he held to
be endowed with a magnetic virtue, subject to the same
laws as that of the great world ; having his poles like the
earth, and his favourable and contrary winds. He describes
the circumstances which produce negative or positive mag¬
netism between different persons, and states that, when the
latter subsists, not only the diseases and particular affections,
but even the moral affections, are communicated from one
person to the other. Kircher, in his work on the magnet,
published at Rome in 1641, describes the influence of
416
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam- magnetism, not only as it is universally diffused throughout
bulism. jhe planetary system, but also as acting upon and existing
in minerals, plants, and animals. He seems to have been
the first author who made the distinction between, and
employed the terms of mineral, vegetable, and animal
magnetism. Similar ideas are to be found in the Nova
Medicina Spirituum of Wirdig, published in 1673 ; in the
Medicina Magnetica of Alexander Maxwell, a Scotch
physician, published in 1679; and in the Philosophia
Recondita, sive Magiccv MagneticcB Mumialis Scientice
Explanatio of Santanelli, published in 1723. It was, it
may be remarked, upon this general doctrine of the
sympathy pervading all parts of the universe, that the
sympathetic treatment of wounds and diseases practised by
Paracelsus, Sir Kenelm Digby, and others, was founded.
Besides the theories more immediately founded on mag¬
netism, we shall find that the power of the human will or
volition is called upon to play an important part in the
system of Mesmer, as propounded by himself and developed
by his followers. These two elements are mixed up and
confounded with one another in a most unsatisfactory way
by mesmerists. At one time they appear to be considered
identical, while at another they are represented as compli¬
mentary,—at one time, the phenomena are referred to the
operation of magnetism, while at another they are referred
to the influence of the will. In like manner, in the pre-
mesmeric period, one writer will be found to ascribe great
power to human volition, while another will explain every¬
thing by magnetism,—with them, as with Mesmer and his
disciples, we shall find that a cloud of mysticism obscures
all these theories.
The power of volition may be employed to produce some
influence or effect, either upon the person who exercises it,
or upon some other person. Many remarkable cases of the
former kind of influence have been observed and recorded
by men every way worthy of credit. The celebrated Kant
wrote an article ( Vermisch. Schrift., vol. iii., p. 389) on the
power which the will can exert to overcome pain. Cases of
this kind are related by Passavant, Brandis, and Boerhaave;
but the most remarkable case of the seeming power of the
will over the body, is that of Colonel Townsend, related by
Dr Cheyne. Like the Faquirs of India, this man could at
will simulate death for a lengthened period. It may prove
a warning to others, who, from vanity or any other cause,
may venture on such rash experiments, to state that this
unfortunate man died, not seemingly, but really in the course
of his last experiment. Of the latter kind of effects, those
which human volition can produce upon others, analogous
and antecedent to those of Mesmer, many singular instances
have been recorded. The reality of this power was main¬
tained by many eminent writers of the sixteenth and seven¬
teenth centuries. A list of these authors, the most re¬
markable of whom were Pomponatius, Van Helmont, and
William Maxwell, will be found in Colquhoun’s Report on
Animal Magnetism, p. 23. The following are some of the
more remarkable effects said by these authors to be pro¬
duced by the operation of the will, and the imagination
acting upon the organization of others.
L It is assumed as a fact generally acknowledged, that
there are men endowed with the faculty of curing certain
diseases, by means of an emanation directed through the
will and imagination towards the patient. This is a prin¬
ciple which will be found to lie at the foundation of all the
mesmeric theories.
2. I his force affects the blood and the spirits, which
prot uce the intended effects by means of an evaporation
thrown outwards.—(Pomponatius.)
. . . Pers°n operating should have great faith, strong
imagination, and a firm desire to cure the patient; and the
con ence of the patient contributes to the efficacy of the
remedy.—(Pomponatius.)
4. It is further maintained, that this power may render Somnam.
the very elements and matter itself subject to the command bulism/
of man.—(Pomponatius.) Mesmer asserted that he mao-- vs—
netized the sun.
5. It is maintained that there is an ethereal vital spirit
or essence which penetrates all bodies, and acts upon the
mass of the universe. In man this influence resides in the
blood, and is worked and directed by volition.—(Van Hel¬
mont.)
6. This virtue in man may be impressed on external
bodies, such as vegetable substances, which derive addi¬
tional virtue from the imagination of the man who gathers
them.—(Van Helmont.)
7. The effect produced is in proportion to the energy of
the will in the operator, and the weakness of the person
operated on.—(Van Helmont.)
We might adduce many more instances of doctrines
maintained by these older writers, in all of which, as well
as in those quoted above, the most superficial observer will
perceive the striking similarity to, if not complete identity
with, the doctrines taught by Mesmer, Puysegur, and their
followers. Besides the works of Colquhoun, the Histoire
Critique du Magnetisme Animal of M. Deleuze, and the
Researches and Doubts on Animal Magnetism of M.
Thouret, may be consulted with advantage. Our space
will not permit us to enter farther into the subject here.
We shall, therefore, proceed to the consideration of the
History of Mesmer and his Doctrines.
I he personal history of a man like Mesmer, whose views Mesmer
have given rise to so much speculation, is intimately inter- and h!s
woven with the credibility of his discoveries. We shall, Doctrine8-
therefore, give some account of the more remarkable events
of his career.
With respect to the time and place of the birth of Fre¬
derick Antony Mesmer our information is imperfect. Ac¬
cording to some authorities, he was born on the 23d May
1 <34 ; according to others not till 1740. By some he was
stated to be a native of Switzerland; while others main¬
tained that he was born at Merseburg, in Swabia. Those
who make 1740 the year of his birth, hold that he was
born in Vienna. According to his own account [Precis
de la decouverte du Magnetism, p. 1), he was born at Weiler,
near Stein, on the Rhine, in 1734. He was in poor circum¬
stances, and went to Vienna to study medicine. He at¬
tended the lectures of Van Swieten and de Haen, and
after graduating in medicine, he is said to have made an
advantageous marriage, and commenced practice in Vienna.
Plis mind had early evinced a strong tendency to the study
of the marvellous and mystical. His first dissertation,
published in 1766, On the Influence of the Planets on the
Human Body, is an evidence that he was addicted to the
study of astrology. In this work he attempted to show
that the heavenly bodies, in virtue of the same law which
produces their mutual attraction, exercise an influence on
living beings, and particularly on the nervous system, by
means of an universal fluid ; and that there exists in nature
a principle universally active, which, independently of our
will, produces those effects which are vaguely ascribed to
medical skill.
I he first published account of Mesmer’s application of
his peculiar views to remedial purposes is contained in a
letter addressed to Dr Unzer of Altona, of date 5th Ja-
nuaiy 177o. In this letter, which was widely circulated,
he relates the case ot Mademoiselle Oesterline, an hysterical
female, whom he had had under treatment in his own house
for two yeais. I his patient exhibited, as might be ex¬
pected, a very extensive train of symptoms, which only
yielded temporarily to the ordinary modes of treatment.
Mesmer conceived the idea of establishing in the body of
his patient a kind ot artificial tide, by means of the mag¬
net. He communicated his project to Father Hell, the
SOMNAMBULISM.
417
Somnam- imperial astronomer, who assisted him with the magnets
bulism. which he possessed, and which he got made to fit the dif-
ferent parts of the body. The magnets were attached to
her feet and chest, and appear to have caused painful cur¬
rents to pass through her body, and terminate in the crown
of her head. After causing much disturbance in her sys¬
tem, all the symptoms gradually disappeared, the patient
became insensible to the action of the magnet, and was
cured of the attack. She had relapses as before, but was
now easily relieved of them. It is worthy of notice, that
at this time Mesmer ascribed all the merit of the treatment
to the magnets employed, while at a subsequent period, we
find, in his memoir on the discovery of animal magnetism,
published at Paris in 1789, that his opinions in regard to
the nature of the curative agency had undergone a com¬
plete revolution. Besides giving a very different account
of the symptoms and effects produced by the magnets, he
found that another principle caused the magnet to act, it
being itself incapable of this action upon the nerves. Of
this 'principle Mesmer never gave any clear explanation;
and it appears to have constituted the secret which he sedu¬
lously kept concealed from the world and his disciples, by
some of whom it was supposed to be no other than the
power of volition. In order to preserve the consistency of
his views, he had recourse to the expedient of charging
those who derived their information from his letter to Unzer
with confounding animal with mineral magnetism. He
accused the Academy of Berlin, and those philosophers
and physicians who had corresponded with him, and whom
he suspected of attempting to penetrate his secret, of having
fallen into this error. The desire of setting aside for ever
such errors, and of completely establishing his claim to an
independent discovery, made him resolve from 1776 no
longer to make any use of electricity or of the magnet.
Both at this period and afterwards he seems to have been
keenly alive to the importance of keeping his secret, what¬
ever that may have been. He quarrelled with Father Hell
for attempting, as he alleges, to claim the merits of the
magnetic treatment for his magnets, but in appealing to the
public, the Jesuit appears to have had the advantage. No
unprejudiced mind can fail to observe, that Mesmer had
now completely departed from his original views; and it is
extremely improbable that a body like the Academy of
Berlin, and the philosophers and physicians to whom he
refers, could have been mistaken as to what was the mean-
ing of his published opinions in so egregious a manner as
Mesmer would lead us to suppose. Amongst others with
whom he came into collision at Vienna, there were two
whom he endeavoured to convince, though without suc¬
cess, of the value and importance of his doctrines. These
were M. de Stoerk, President of the Faculty of Medicine at
Vienna, and M. Ingenhousz, the Imperial Vaccinator.
Baron Stoerk was a countryman of his own, with whom he
was well acquainted. Mesmer laboured hard to entangle
him in his magnetic theories, to get permission to try ex¬
periments in the hospitals, and to get a commission of the
faculty to investigate his doctrines. Stoerk seems to have
been cautious and politic in his intercourse with Mesmer,
who, thus deprived of the distinction which he claimed for
his discovery, charges him with fickleness and vacillation.
Ingenhousz acceded to Mesmer’s invitation to witness his
experiments with Mademoiselle Oesterline, which Mesmer
avers had been, by the confession of Ingenhousz himself,
quite conclusive. The experiments had been conducted
with cups, one of which Mesmer had touched, and it ap¬
peared that none of them had any effect on the patient,
except the one which had been touched. Mesmer, it ought
to be observed, had now discovered that almost any sub¬
stance could be impressed with magnetic virtues by touch.
He flattered himself that he had made a convert of Ingen¬
housz, but he found that, like all the world besides, as he
VOL. xx.
imagined, his new disciple proved unfaithful, and treated Somnam-
his experiments as mere jugglery. tmlism.
So little had been his success in Vienna, that, during the
the same year, 1775, in which he had published his letter
to Dr Unzer, he left that city in disgust at the deceit and
misrepresentations of which he had been made the object,
lowards the end of 1775 he made a journey through
Swabia, Bavaria, and Switzerland, and performed many
supposed cures, both in public and private, in the presence
of medical men. At Munich he was consulted by the
Elector of Bavaria regarding the cures performed by Gass-
ner at Ratisbon, which had caused great commotion.
Gassner ascribed diseases to demoniacal possession, which
he obviated by adjurations and commands in the name of
Jesus Christ. In 1774 and 1775 Gassner’s cures excited
great attention ; thousands flocked to him, whom he threw
into convulsions by his exorcisms and imprecations. De
Haen, at the desire of the Empress Maria Theresa, and her
son the Emperor Joseph II., investigated some of these
cases of reputed demoniacal possession; but in no case could
he find any thing but the most manifest deceit and imposi¬
tion, and he demonstrated undeniably the total groundless¬
ness and absurdity of Gassner’s pretensions. Flis proceed¬
ings were, therefore, put a stop to, and he was shut up in a
fraternity of priests, when his miraculous powers completely
deserted him. Mesmer’s opinion of Gassner was, that he
produced real effects, but was ignorant of their cause. He
leads us to infer that this convicted impostor was an un¬
conscious, though powerful magnetiser. About this time
Mesmer was admitted a member of the Academy of Sciences
of Munich.
The following year, 1776, he again travelled in Bavaria,
where he is reported to have cured M. d’Osterval, director
of the Academy of Sciences, of incomplete gutta serena
and paralysis of the limbs. It was at this period that he
gave up entirely the use of the magnet and electricity.
On his return to Vienna he undertook, on the 20th Ja¬
nuary 1777, the treatment of Mile. Paradis, a girl of
eighteen, and afflicted since her childhood with complete
amaurosis, accompanied with convulsions, which made her
eyes start from their orbits. According to the partisans of
Mesmer, his treatment of this case produced the most
astonishing effects, which were attested by the two presi¬
dents of the Faculty of Medicine, one of whom was M. de
Stoerk. His opponents, however, it is said, by exciting the
fears of the father of his patient lest the Empress should
withdraw the pension which she had granted to her on
account of her infirmity, succeeded in inducing him to
withdraw her from his care before the cure was completely
effected, and in consequence of which his directions for her
cure being no longer followed, she became completely
blind. Mesmer’s attempt to retain her under his care, in
spite of her father’s wish to the contrary, was defeated by
an order of the court physician to give her up, and put an
end to his trickery. It is also said that he was ordered to
leave Vienna; but this is denied by Mesmer, who alleged
that he received a recommendation from the minister of
foreign affairs to the Austrian ambassador in Paris, who
never disavowed him.
Another and a different account of this affair is given by
Sprengel (Sendschreiben uber Thierishen Magnetismum
mil Zusatzen, Halle, 1788, p. 104), on the authority of a
work, entitled Magnetist, published by C. L. Hoffman, at
Frankfort, in 1787. According to this account, a commis¬
sion was named by the Empress, Maria Theresa, for the in¬
vestigation of magnetism, and the alleged cure of the girl
Paradis. Before an assemblage of 800 persons, medical men
and others, the girl was found to distinguish bright colours
correctly; but when it was observed that Mesmer made
certain signals to her, he was ordered to withdraw, which
he did reluctantly, after which she could no longer distin-
3 G
118 SOM N A M
Somnam- guish colours. It is said, that when the commissioners
bulism. haci given in their report, Mesmer received an imperial
k'—order to leave Vienna within twenty-four hours. It is now
impossible to decide which of these accounts may be cor¬
rect. It is certain, however, that he left Vienna early in
1778, and arrived in Paris in February of that year.
At this period Paris was the most likely place in the
world where mesmerism would take root and flourish. In
addition to the naturally lively imagination of the French
people, their love of novelty, and the power of fashion, of
which Paris was at that time the centre, and the influence
of a dissolute court, if its countenance could be obtained,
together with an unsettled and excited state of public opi¬
nion were all peculiarly favourable for the admission of the
new" and startling doctrines of which Mesmer was the
apostle.
Mesmer’s account of his proceedings in Paris is contained
in his Memoire sur la Decouverte du Magnetisme Animal,
published in 1779; and in his Precis Historique des fails
relatifs an Magnetisme Animal, published in 1781. Ac¬
cording to his own account, he did not enter upon the
practice of animal magnetism in Paris until solicited by the
French savants to make experiments. The first encourage¬
ment he received was from M. le Roi, director, and M. le
Comte Maillebois, member, of the Academy of Sciences.
He also formed the acquaintance of Messrs Mauduit,
Andry, Desperrieres, and the Abbe Tessier, members of
the Academy of Medicine. After performing some expe¬
riments, he entered into a kind of agreement with them,
though not in their official capacity, to undertake the treat-
menr of certain patients, whom they had previously exa¬
mined. The arrangement broke down at the very outset,
Messrs Mauduit and Andry not being satisfied as to the
condition of the first patient proposed to be operated upon ;
a more particular examination was refused, and he sent no
more patients to be examined by them. In consequence
of this failure on the part of Mesmer to fulfil the terms of
the agreement, he was informed, on the 6th of May, by
M. vTcq. d’Azyr, the secretary, who returned to him his
certificates unopened, that the commission was withdrawn.
Mesmer informed the academy that he had not sought a com¬
mission ; and, on the contrary, had repeatedly rejected it.
After this he collected a number of patients and retired
to the village of Creteuil, two leagues distant from Paris,
where he treated them in his own way, without the too
critical surveillance of the scientific men of the metropolis.
On the 20th and 22d August he wrote to the Academies
of Medicine and Science, inviting them to examine his
patients, and compare their then condition with the certifi¬
cates of their state at the time of their coming under his
treatment. This rather barefaced proposal was at once
rejected.
Shortly after this he returned to Paris, and in September
1778 he formed the acquaintance ot M. D Eslon, physician
to the Count d’Artois, brother of the king. D’Eslon
soon became a convert, and a partisan of the new views,
and by his great influence assisted to secure for him the
patronage of the great and powerful, and enabled him to
realize the fortune with which he afterwards retired
from the capital. He endeavoured, also, to interest the
Academy of Medicine in Mesmer’s discoveries, but without
success. He could only get three members, MM. Ber¬
trand, Malloet, and Sollier, to witness the magnetic treatment,
who, after seven months’ observation, declined to adopt the
mesmeric doctrines.
In 1779 he published his Memoir relative to the dis¬
covery of animal magnetism, which gave rise to some con¬
troversy, and was critically examined by M. Thouret four
years afterwards.
In 1780 M. D’Eslon published his Observations on ani¬
mal magnetism, and avowed his adoption of Mesmer’s
BULISM.
opinions, in consequence of which he incurred the dis- Somnam-
pleasure of his colleagues in the medical faculty. He bulism.
solicited their intervention in order to secure an impartial
examination of Mesmer’s doctrines. In reply, he was
enjoined to be more circumspect for the future ; he was
suspended from his deliberative functions for a year, and
was threatened that he would have his name erased
from the list of members if he did not recant within a
year; and the proposals of Mesmer were at the same time
rejected.
Mesmer’s only hope was now in the government, whose
support he had the prospect of obtaining through the assis¬
tance of M. de Lassone, first physician to their Majesties,
who had become convinced of the reality and utility of his
discovery. The conditions under which he was willing to
perform his experiments before a commission named by the
government were agreed upon, when M. D’Eslon was in¬
formed by M. de Lassone that the persons named declined
the commission. Mesmer states, that he afterwards ascer¬
tained that the proposed commissioners had never been
spoken to on the subject. This was for him only another
instance of the bad faith with which it appeared all his pro¬
posals had hitherto been treated.
“ I now,” says Mesmer, “ no longer hesitated to announce
to my patients, that as I was to quit France immediately,
my practice would be terminated on the 15th of April follow¬
ing (1781).” So great, however, was the impression that
his experiments had produced upon the mind of the queen,
with whom a communication had been opened up, that
negotiations were re-opened through M. D’Eslon, in order
to avert the threatened calamity ; an arrangement was made
by which a government commission of five persons, two of
whom were to be medical men, was to report finally upon
his experiments. If the report proved favourable, the
government was to announce officially that Mesmer had
made a useful discovery; the king agreed to give him a
suitable establishment as a free gift, and a yearly pension of
20,000 livres. He was also to be required to remain in
France till his doctrine and practice were completely esta¬
blished, and he was not to quit it without the permission
of the king. A few days afterwards the agreement was modi¬
fied to the .extent that the examination by commissioners
was to be dispensed with, and in place of an establishment
he was to get 10,000 livres annual rent for a house suitable
for training pupils, of whom three were to be named by the
government and three by himself, if he saw fit. Mesmer
declined these proposals on the plea that they were not
consistent with his dignity, and that his discovery was above
all price. He demanded a territorial possession, and not
money. The negotiations having failed, Mesmer addressed
a letter to the queen, in which he declared that he re¬
nounced all hope of an arrangement with the government,
and intimated that he would leave France on the 18th
September.
Before quitting France definitively he went to Spa, and
whilst there (1782) he learned that M. D’Eslon was de¬
prived of his title of doctor-regent, and had started the
practice of animal magnetism on his own account in Paris.
He was deeply moved by this intelligence, which caused
him great alarm and depression of spirits. He believed
that the fruit of his labours was about to pass into other
hands ; he declared that he was a ruined man; that his con¬
fidence had been betrayed; and that he was deprived of the
reward that was due to him for his discoveries. In order
to console him, his friends and followers, who appear to
have been numerous and wealthy, entered into a subscrip¬
tion of 100 louis d’ors each, which was filled up chiefly by
men of rank and fashion, and included also several medical
men from Lyons and other parts of France. At this time
(1783) Mesmer was at Spa, to which place he had returned a
second time after a temporary absence. The subscription
SOMNAMBULISM. 419
Somnam- of 100 louis d’ors, or 2400 francs, was paid by 100 persons,
bulism. in order to secure the independence and glory of Mesmer.
lo the course of a few months he realized 340,000 francs.
In 1784 he had returned to Paris, opened a magnetical
institution, and commenced his lectures and clinical in¬
structions in the beginning of April. Among his pupils
there was one subscriber of 100 louis d’ors, M. Berthollet,
physician to the Duke of Orleans, and afterwards renowned
as a chemist, upon whom his lectures did not produce the
desired effect. After a month’s attendance, this refractory
pupil, probably more versed than most of the others in the
principles of scientific reasoning and in the practice of calm
and faithful scientific observation, laid upon Mesmer’s table
a declaration of his belief that the whole theory and prac¬
tice of mesmerism was perfectly chimerical.
Another of his pupils was M. Picher-Grandchamp of
Lyons, who, along with several other medical men, came
from Lyons to Paris, to study mesmerism. He afterwards
published a Memoire de F. A. Mesmer, sur ses Decouvertes,
in a letter prefixed to which, in 1826, he gives some interest¬
ing particulars relative to Mesmer’s course. He mentions
from memory some of the distinguished men who attended
it, such as the Due de Coigni, the Prince de Conde, the
Due de Bourbon, MM. de Montesquieu, de Lafayette,
de Puysegur, &c. It lasted two months. It was proposed,
in the middle of the second course, that both courses and
the doctrine should be published. A decided and success¬
ful opposition was made to this proposition, on the ground
that, as had happened to medicine, the art of printing, by
revealing the whole science, would destroy that considera¬
tion and kind of reverence, that public esteem and confi¬
dence, with which it was honoured. It was determined, how¬
ever, that, regardless of expense, the maxims of the science
should be engraved on metal- plates. This was done, and
a copy was given to those who should establish a magnetical
institution in certain towns fixed on. M. Picher-Grand¬
champ possessed a copy, which he presented to M. Bourdois
de la Motte, the president of the commission of the aca¬
demy appointed in 1825, on thin metal plates. This work
was never published, but the series of propositions which
Mesmer dictated to his disciples was given to the world in
1784 by M. Caullet de Veaumorel, under the title of
Aphorismes de M. Mesmer. These propositions are arranged
under different heads, and treat of cohesion, elasticity,
gravity, fire, flux, and reflux, &c., and are as fair a speci¬
men of solemn trifling under the guise of science as we
have ever happened to meet with.
Towards the conclusion of his courses a quarrel arose
between Mesmer and his pupils (a state of matters which
seems to have been quite common on such occasions), who
had formed themselves into a Society of Harmony, as to
their right of publishing and teaching his doctrines and
practices. He affirmed that they had come under an obli¬
gation to him not to do so without his consent' and appro¬
bation (Bertrand’s Hist, of Anim. Magn.) The result was,
that Mesmer endeavoured, without success, to raise subscrip¬
tions at half-price for courses of instruction in several towns^
of France, while the society opened a public course of
instruction, through M. Despemenil, and instituted thirty
establishments in France and other parts of the continent.
A curious case, illustrating Mesmer’s mode of practice, is
related by Madame Campan, in her journal. The patient
was M. Campan, one of his partisans, like every one who
moved in high life. “To be magnetised,” she says, “was
then a fashion. In the drawing-room nothing was talked
of but the new discovery; people’s heads were turned, and
their imaginations heated to the highest degree. To accom¬
plish this object, it was necessary to bewilder the under¬
standing; and Mesmer, with his singular language, pro¬
duced that effect. To put a stop to the fit of public insanity
was the grand difficulty, and it was pronosed to have the
secret purchased by the court.” It has not been in the Somnam-
case of Mesmer alone that the higher classes of society bulism.
have shown a discreditable facility in listening to those
who have pretended to possess extraordinary power in
curing diseases. M. Campan was seized with a pulmonary
affection, and Mesmer was called in. Madame C., who
seems to have been both the wiser and the better half of
this weak courtier, demanded to know what was to be the
treatment. To insure a speedy and perfect cure, Mesmer
coolly proposed that one of three things should be done—
either that a young woman of brown complexion, a black
hen, or an empty bottle, should be placed at the left side
of M. Campan. “ Sir,” said Madame C., “ if the choice be
a matter of indifference, pray, bring the empty bottle.”
The treatment did no good, and Mesmer, taking advantage
of Madame’s absence, had recourse to the old-fashioned plan
of bleeding and blistering, and M. Campan recovered. He
asked for a certificate that the cure had been effected by
magnetism alone, and M. Campan gave it. This circum¬
stance coming to the knowledge of Madame Campan, she
reported it to their Majesties, and expressed her indigna¬
tion at the conduct of the barefaced quack. It was imme¬
diately determined to have nothing more to do with him.
On the 12th March 1784, the king named four members
of the Faculty of Medicine—MM. Sallin, d’Arcet, Guil-
lotin, and Majault—to examine and give him an account of
animal magnetism as practised by M. D’Eslon. With
these his Majesty associated MM. Franklin, Le Roi, Badly,
de Bory, and Lavoisier, of the Academy of Sciences, and
on the 5th April MM. Poissonnier, Caille, Mauduit, An-
dry, and Jussieu, were named by M. de Breteuil, agreeably
to the orders of the king, a commission of the Royal
Society of Medicine. Mesmer refused to have any com¬
munication with these commissioners, though several of
them were men possessed of the highest scientific attain¬
ments, and who, if there was any worth in the great dis¬
covery which he had made, would have been the first to
acknowledge it. They had to content themselves with M.
d’Eslon, one of the most considerable of his pupils. At
the same time M. Thouret was desired by the Royal Society
of Medicine to draw up a history of animal magnetism.
Five separate reports were the result of these commissions.
The first, by M. Thouret, was given in to the Royal Society
of Medicine on the 9th July 1784; the second, a report
to the government for publication, by the joint commission
of the°Royal Academy of Sciences and the Faculty of
Medicine, was dated the 4th August; the third, a private
report to the king; the fourth, the report of the Royal
Society of Medicine to the government, was dated 16th
August; and the fifth, the report of M. Jussieu, who held
opinions peculiar to himself, was dated the 12th September.
The report of the joint commission is understood to have
been drawn up by Bailly, whose writings establish his
claims to the character of a philosopher, and whose conduct,
up to the time of his barbarous execution,^ entitle him to
the appellation of a virtuous patriot. M. T. houret s report
was entitled Researches and Doubts on Animal Magnetism,
in which he undertook to prove that Mesmer’s claim of
having made a new discovery was untenable, and to show
that there existed not only a similarity of doctrine between
Mesmer and former writers on magnetic medicine, particu¬
larly Kircher, Maxwell, and Santanelli, but also the strictest
conformity between them in matters of detail. A similar
review of Mesmer’s doctrines is to be found in an anony¬
mous work entitled, Anti-Magnetisme, ou Origine, Progres,
Decadence, Renouvellement, et Refutation du Magnetisme
Animal, published in London in 1784.
It was the duty of the other commissioners to bring the
doubts suggested by M. Thouret to the test of practical
observation and experiment. It was their duty first to
witness the ordinary modes of procedure employed by mag-
420 SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnara- netisers; and in the second, to give their judgment upon
bulism. wjlat ^gy observed. The arrangements were as follows:—
1. There was a vessel of wood, closed above, very large,
of an oval form, about two feet in height, which was called
the bucket (baguet), placed in the middle of the apartment.
The lid of the bucket was pierced with holes round the
edges, from which arose rods of polished iron, of the thick¬
ness of the finger, bent, ending in a rounded point, and
alternately a long and a short one. The rods could be
plunged into the bucket, drawn back, or entirely removed.
To the rods were attached cords, of the same thickness as
themselves.
2. The patients were placed round the bucket on chairs,
one or more rows deep. The rod was directed towards the
seat of the malady, and several coils of the cord were placed
round the parts affected with pain. These were considered
to be conductors of the magnetic fluid, though no evidence
was furnished or observed by the commissioners that any
conduction took place. The bucket was not considered
essential, but merely accessory.
3. The doors and windows were closed; a soft and feeble
light only was admitted through the curtains; silence was ob¬
served. The air became heated and vitiated. The appear¬
ance of the apartment predisposed to reflection and medita¬
tion, which was only interrupted by yawning, sighs, sobbings,
convulsions, lamentations, signs of impatience, &c. Towards
the end of the sitting a pianoforte was sometimes played.
4. The patients were supplied, when they asked for drink,
with water in which cream of tartar had been dissolved.
Having acquainted themselves with the apparatus and
external appliances necessary in carrying out the magnetic
processes, the next thing that engaged the attention of the
commissioners was the manipulatory part of the mesmeric
method of treatment. They found that there were two
ways of magnetising: viz., by immediate contact, and by the
direction of the finger or of a conductor at some distance.
ls£. The most ordinary process, magnetising by contact,
consists in applying the hands to the hypochondria, the
extremities of the fingers being directed towards the umbi¬
licus. Frequently the thumbs, or the extremities of the
two forefingers, are applied to the epigastrium. It is also
common to place the hands on the region of the kidneys,
particularly in magnetising women. The other parts touched
are determined by the seat of the disease. Besides simple
contact, greater or less friction, particularly on the umbili¬
cal and epigastric regions, is resorted to.
2d. Magnetising at a distance is performed by directing
the finger or conductor to various parts of the head and
body, and carrying them along the body and extremities,
the hands being shaken as if in the act of sprinkling a fluid.
The next thing which the commissioners had to do was
to observe the nature of the effects produced by these pro¬
cesses. They are very varied. Some are calm, and appa¬
rently unaffected; others cough, spit, feel pain, heat, and
are thrown into perspiration ; others are agitated and con¬
vulsed. The convulsions are extraordinary for their num¬
ber, their duration, and their violence. There is expecto¬
ration of mucus and blood. The convulsions are accom¬
panied by rapid, involuntary motion of all the extremities
and the body, by subsultus of the hypochondrium and epi¬
gastrium, by distraction and wildness of the eyes, by piercing
cries, weeping, hiccoughing, and immoderate laughter. These
are preceded or followed by a state of languor. The
slightest noise or music excites their vivacity. “Nothing,”
says the commissioners, “ can be more astonishing than the
sight of these convulsions; without having seen it, it is
impossible to form an idea of it, and in beholding it one
is equally surprised by the profound repose of one portion
of these patients, and by the agitation manifested by the
other; by the repetition of the various phenomena,''and by
the sympathies that are developed. Patients are seen seek¬
ing each other exclusively, and in precipitating themselves Soninam-
towards one another, smiling, conversing affectionately, and bulism.
mutually soothing each other’s crises. All are under the
authority of the magnetiser; and though they may appear
to be in a state of extreme drowsiness, his voice, or a look
or a sign from him, rouses them from it. It is impossible
not to recognise, in these constant effects, a great power,
which agitates the patients, and obtains the mastery over
them, and of which the magnetiser appears to be the deposi-
tary.”
The next point which it behoved the commissioners to
attend to, was the character of the persons in whdm the
most decided mesmeric phenomena manifested themselves.
The commission of the Society of Medicine made the fol¬
lowing important observations on this subject:—
ls£. That such persons are, either from constitution or
the effect of disease, exceedingly sensitive.
2d. That the convulsions do not occur till the person
has been subjected for a longer or shorter period to the
magnetic processes.
3d. That persons magnetised separately, even though
very sensitive, seldom experience convulsions, while the
same persons magnetised in a crowd are sooner or more
frequently thrown into convulsions.
4:th. That women are more susceptible than men, and
that women in affluent are more susceptible than those in
indigent circumstances.
5th. That it is only after remaining a considerable time in
the magnetising chamber that the convulsionaries become
affected.
Having followed in their experimental investigations the
method now delineated, the commissioners arrived at certain
results, of which the following is a brief resume:—
I. It is established in all the reports that the magnetic
fluid, if it exists, is incapable of being recognised by any
sensible or physical properties; it cannot be seen, heard,
smelt, tasted, nor touched. M. D’Eslon admitted that its
existence could only be demonstrated by the changes which
it produces on animated beings.
II. It is admitted in all the reports that many persons
operated on exhibited none of the magnetic phenomena.
The cause, therefore, is not universal, but partial or excep¬
tional in its effects. Even Jussieu, the most favourably
disposed of the commissioners towards mesmerism, ex¬
presses his conviction that the magnetic fluid, if it exists,
has not, on most men, whether in a state of health or dis¬
ease, an action that can manifest itself by sensible signs.
III. It is stated in all the reports that many persons who
were led to believe that they were under magnetic opera¬
tion, when they were not actually so, exhibited precisely
the same phenomena as those who were magnetised. The
best illustration of this statement is the experiment per¬
formed by M. D’Eslon, at Passy, before the joint commis¬
sioners in Dr Franklin’s garden ; an apricot-tree, in an iso¬
lated situation, was magnetised, and a boy whose suscep¬
tibility had been tried by D’Eslon, and after the neces¬
sary precautions, was, with his eyes bandaged, made to
embrace different trees. He embraced four trees which
were not magnetised; nevertheless the magnetic phenomena
continued to be developed with increasing effect till he
reached the fourth, when he fell into a convulsive crisis, and
chad to be carried into the house. When he reached the
fourth tree he was still 24 feet from the magnetised one.
This experiment the commissioners considered to be most
conclusive.
IV. It is established in all the reports that many persons
who were subjected to magnetic operation without their
being aware of it, did not exhibit the usual phenomena,
even though these same persons had, on former trials, when
they knew they were operated on, been found to be very
susceptible of magnetic influence. Some very conclusive
Somnam¬
bulism.
SOMNAMBULISM.
421
experiments, in reference to this point, were made by the
commissioners, which we have not space to narrate.
V. It is distinctly shown in all the reports that mistakes
analogous to those mentioned in the two last articles were
committed by many persons as to the seat in which they
experienced magnetic sensations ; that is, from miscon¬
ception as to the proceedings of the magnetiser, these per¬
sons experienced sensations in parts not operated on, and
none in parts against which the magnetic conductor was
directed. These mistakes were amply illustrated in the
case of a female operated on by M. Jussieu, who, when her
eyes were bandaged, felt the same sensations as those which
she experienced when magnetic manipulations were going
on, even when nothing whatever was being done to her.
VI. The joint commissioners and the commissioners of
the Society of Medicine, with the exception of M. Jussieu,
considered themselves as authorized to conclude that the
effects upon the human economy attributed by Mesmer
and his followers to animal magetism, ought to be ascribed
to other causes, and particularly to the handlings and fric¬
tions practised by the operators, to the influence of imagi¬
nation, and to the principle of instinctive imitation or sym¬
pathy. M. Jussieu only differed from the other commis¬
sioners to the extent that he ascribed some of the pheno¬
mena to the effect of animal heat, which may pass from one
body to another; he did not admit the existence of any
magnetic, or, as he describes it, undemonstrated universal
fluid. His report was much more opposed than favourable
to the pretensions of the magnetisers.
VII. With reference to the curative influence of animal
magnetism the two commissions pursued different modes of
investigation. The one, the joint commission, confined
itself to the proof of the purely physical and instantaneous
effects of the fluid on the animal body ; while the other ex¬
tended its observations to the employment and effects of
magnetism on the treatment of diseases. They divided the
cases which they saw under three heads—First, Patients
whose affections were evident and had a known cause;
Second, Those whose slight ailments consisted in indefinite
affections, without any determinate cause; and Third,
Melancholics. In the first class they saw no good effects
produced. In the second class, though some patients pro¬
fessed that they were better, there was no evidence that
this was really fhe case, and if it was so, that it had been
effected by magnetism alone. The evidence from the third
class is dismissed as altogether worthless. M. Jussieu
maintained that many of the effects were determined by a
physical cause—animal heat.
VIII. The commissioners pointed out two classes of
dangers as liable to result from the practice of animal mag¬
netism, one affecting the health, and the other the morals
of the persons operated on. The dangers to health arose
from the immediate injury liable to result from the violence
of the crises or convulsions into which the patients were
thrown, and from the liability to a habit of convulsions
being established in the economy.
The moral dangers formed the subject of the secret re¬
port submitted to the king by the joint commission. Into
these we need not enter, but we may remark that there
can be no doubt that the suggestions contained in the re¬
port were equally proper and necessary. On this subject
the reader may consult Hufeland’s Journal der Practischen
Arzneikunde for 1815 and 1820, and Kieser’s System des
Tellurismus, &c., ii., 437.
The effect of these reports on the public mind was ex¬
ceedingly adverse to the cause of animal magnetism. An
attempt was made on the part of Mesmer to set aside the
verdict of the commissioners, in so far as it affected him¬
self, however applicable it might be to M. D’Eslon or any
of his pupils. The commissioners, however, had fully sa¬
tisfied themselves that the essential practices of magnetism
were known to M. D’Eslon. Mesmer, it is said, appealed Scannam-
from the decision of the commissioners to the parliament of bulism-
Paris. But when that body ordained that he should be
obliged to expose his doctrine and methods before a com¬
mission appointed by them, he seems to have fallen from
his appeal, and to have speedily left Paris.
Answers to the reports of the commissioners were pub¬
lished by MM. D’Eslon, Montjoie, Bonnefoy, and Bergasse.
Anonymous replies were also published, among which were
Doutes d'un Provincial, said to have been written by
M. Servan, of Grenoble; the Reflections Impartiales,
&c.; the Observations, &c., par un Medecin de Province;
and the Supplement aux Deux Rapports. A reply to
these answers was published by M. Deviller, entitled Le
Colosse aux Pieds d!Argile. Mesmerism would now, in
all probability, have fallen into oblivion, had not the dis¬
covery of the principle of somnambulism infused new life
and vigour into the effete system. This new class of
phenomena ascribed to the principle of animal magnetism
has been the means of sustaining the system, though the
effects are very different from those which Mesmer demon¬
strated, and of continuing it to our own time.
In 1799, Mesmer published a new work under the title
of Memoire de F. A. Mesmer sur ses Decouvertes, in which
he endeavours to establish a claim to the discovery of som¬
nambulism, which he considered to be a necessary conse¬
quence and corollary of his own system.
Little is known of his personal history from the time
when he left Paris in 1784 till his death. He seems to
have visited England, and is said to have witnessed the
execution of Bailly in the Champ de Mars.
He passed the latter years of his life at Frauenfeldt, near
the Lake of Constance, when he was visited by Dr Egg in
1808, and by Dr Wolfart of Berlin in 1812. To the latter,
who had been a magnetiser since 1808, Mesmer confided
his manuscripts, out of which he drew up a system, which
he published at Berlin in 1814, entitled Mesmerism, or
System of the Operations, Theory, and Application of Ani¬
mal Magnetism, as the General Curative for the Preser¬
vation of Mankind.
Mesmer died at Merseborg on the 15th March 1815,
at the ripe age of eighty-one years.
Having concluded the history of mesmerism, in so far as Puysegur
it was directly associated with its author, we now require ail<i his
to retrace our steps from the time when the joint commis- discoveries,
sion was investigating the merits of Mesmer’s discovery,
to the year 1764, when mesmerism entered on a new phase
of its existence, and assumed a form differing in many re¬
spects from that which it obtained from the hands of its
author. We allude to magnetic somnambulism, the dis¬
covery of M. le Marquis de Puysegur. Though it has been
attempted to be shown that Mesmer was acquainted with
the phenomena of somnambulism, and that they were wit¬
nessed by his disciples in the Salles de Crises, there can
be no doubt that the discovery of the Marquis de Puyse¬
gur was as original as it was unexpected on his part, that it
revolutionized the mesmeric system so essentially, that
while it added much to, it received little from the original
scheme of Mesmer. The revolution has been complete
and persistent, and there appears little doubt that if the
discovery of M. de Puysegur had not been made, animal
magnetism would have disappeared with the death of Mes¬
mer. It infused new life into the expiring system ; a life
so vigorous, indeed, that it has been sufficient to keep it
alive till the present time. Mesmerism, strictly so called,
died with its author. It may be truly affirmed, that long
before the death of Mesmer, somnambulism, which was at
first coldly received by him, and afterwards tacitly admitted
and claimed as his own discovery, had made rapid advances
in public estimation.
In the following pages we propose to adopt a topogra-
422
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam- phical arrangement, as the simplest method by which we
bulism. gj^u be enabie(i to give a correct and succinct description
of the development and history of the theories of magnetic
somnambulism. We shall treat, therefore,—
1. Of somnambulism in France. 2. Of somnambulism in
Great Britain. 3. Of somnambulism in Germany and
other countries.
Somnam- 1. Of Somnambulism in France.—Among the sub-
bulism in SCribers to Mesmer’s course of instruction were the marquis
France. jg puySegur, at that time an officer of artillery, and his
two brothers; the Count Chastenet, a naval officer; and the
Count Maxime, an officer in a regiment of infantry. In
fact, it appears that mesmerism was received and cultivated
by military officers more than by any other class of the
community. Having much unoccupied time, they seem to
have espoused it as an elegant and exciting exercise, to re¬
lieve themselves from the ennui which a state of compara¬
tive idleness usually engenders. Their education and habits
were not fitted to raise in their minds any of those diffi¬
culties which occur to a Berthollet or a Franklin, while, on
the other hand, the easy acquisition (only 100 louis d’ors)
of so wonderful a power as that which mesmerism held out
for their acceptance, was too tempting a bait to be refused.
We cannot wonder, therefore, that the three brothers Puy-
segur, and many others of their brother officers, soon be¬
came believers and experts in the new doctrine and prac¬
tice. The cure of diseases, more especially if the method
contains something wonderful and contrary to the ordinary
routine, has always been found to possess an irresistible
attraction for the idle, the ignorant, and the noble. The
Count Chastenet was the first convert. The marquis, at
first attaching little credit to the doctrines taught by Mes-
mer, when he retired to his estate of Busancy, near Sois-
sons, amused himself with experiments in curing toothache.
Encouraged by his success (a marquis could scarcely fail
to cure a dependant peasant’s toothache), he ventured on
the treatment of a chest affection on a peasant named
Victor, twenty-three years of age. “ What was my sur¬
prise,” exclaims the marquis (8th May 1784), “to see this
man in some seven or eight minutes fall asleep peaceably
in my arms, without convulsions or pains! I pushed the
crisis, which occasioned him sensations of giddiness. He
spoke and talked quite aloud of his affairs. When I thought
his ideas must affect him in a disagreeable manner, I stopped
them, and endeavoured to inspire him with others of a
gayer character.” The fame of Victor spread, and brought
numerous patients, but the powers of the marquis were
limited, and in order to husband his energies, he fell upon
the plan laid down by Mesmer, of magnetising a tree and
attaching cords to it, which his patients laid hold of; and
it was found that, while he saved himself much trouble, the
tree was as effectual in curing his patients as his own hands
had been. Among the ignoble crowd Victor remains pre¬
eminent. He becomes the alter ego of the marquis. He
is his agent of nature, as the marquis expresses it. By
nature a boor, a simple man, a large and robust fellow,
when in a state of somnambulism, his whole character is
changed. “ It is with this man,” says the marquis, “ that
I instruct myself—that I enlighten myself. He becomes
\ a being whom I know not how to name.” The following is
a resume of the remarkable phenomena exhibited by Vic¬
tor:—1. The person magnetised falls into a state resem¬
bling sleep ; 2. He continues to speak and converse while
m this state; 3. An influence is exercised over his thoughts
by the unexpressed thoughts of his magnetiser; 4. His
intellectual faculties are increased ; 5. He has a foreknow¬
ledge of the progress of his own malady, and to some ex¬
tent at least of the means necessary for its removal; 6.
He has a total oblivion, while not in the state of magnetic
s e®P> what he had said or done whilst in that state.
M. de Puysegur regarded the production of somnam¬
bulism as an entirely new phenomenon in animal magne¬
tism. M. Wurtz and M. Picher-Grandchamp combated
this view, and claimed the discovery for Mesmer. M. Foissac
adopted the same view, and merely allowed to M. de Puy¬
segur the merit of giving a precise description of its true
characters, &c. Notwithstanding the claims thus advanced
in favour of Mesmer, there is no doubt that all the merit
attaching to this discovery belongs to M. de Puysegur.
Besides Victor, the marquis soon acquired other assistants
in his experiments. Amongst these was Vielet, a school¬
master; Catherine Montenecourt; a lad named Joly; Agnes
Remont, wife of the smith of Busancy, named la Mare-
chale ; a female named Madeleine, Lehogais one of his far¬
mers ; Ribault and Clement, two of his domestic servants.
It is little to be wondered at, that with such agencies, the
marquis was able to conduct his experiments with the
greatest apparent success. It is not likely that any doubts
or difficulties would arise in their progress with such facile
instruments. It was with reference to one of them, la
Marechale, that M. Recamier had some reasons to suspect
fraud, as he was refused the means of dissipating his doubts,
and he heard her repeating things which he had himself
previously said to his patients. “ How ridiculous, besides,”
adds M. Recamier, “ to hear a person prescribe, as a trans¬
cendental remedy in a case of pulmonary consumption, a
drachm of Glauber’s salts!”
Of the perfect good faith of the marquis there can be no
doubt. His letters and writings show that he was an en¬
thusiastic philanthropist, a class of men remarkably open to
self-deception, and to be imposed upon by others; that he was
greatly imposed upon by his agents there can be as little
doubt as there is of his own disinterested benevolence.
The declarations of Victor were very probably only dictated
by the wish to flatter his master, to whom he owed every¬
thing, and to enhance his own importance. In a letter ad¬
dressed to the intendant of Soissons, and reprinted by M
Montegre in 1814, it is stated that the magnetic manipula¬
tions were of an indecorous character, which would be the
reverse of objectionable to that class of the population, on
whom his magnetic services were so freely lavished; and
when we are told, that besides maintaining many of them
at his house, the marquis spent more than fifty francs a day
in charity, we can be at no loss to understand how his
practice became so popular.
Animal magnetism in the hands of Mesmer was simply a
curative agent; now, however, we find it not only to be a
curative means, but to confer the power of detecting the
morbid condition of parts, both in the person operated on
and in others, and the instinctive knowledge of the reme¬
dies required to effect a cure. M. de Puysegur’s magnetic
or somnambulic physician finds it equally easy to determine
the disease and the remedy. No wonder, therefore, at the
tone of superiority over ordinary physicians which is as¬
sumed by Vielet in the account of his own case, written in
the dark, as we are told, while in the state of magnetic
crisis. “ I repeat and I say, that by the sight and the sen¬
sation which I actually possess, I can distinguish internal
diseases as well as external, and thereby judge, pronounce,
and obviate immediately ; not like those doctors who give
prescriptions after they have informed themselves, and that
often very ill, by the statements which they make their
patients give them; it is not so in the state in which I am;
I can define everything, and conclude in the same way.”
{Memoires, p. 91.)
The change effected by Puysegur from the mesmeric
crisis to the state of somnambulism was a great improve¬
ment, the chambres de crises being, he avers, “ un enfer a
convulsions” (Mem., p. 80).
In June 1784 the military duties of the marquis called
him to Strasburg, where he performed several magnetic
cures. In October he returned to Busancy, and resumed
Somnam¬
bulism.
Somnam¬
bulism.
SOMNAMBULISM.
423
his observations and practice. Towards the end of the
year he circulated accounts of the wonderful effects which
he had produced. These he afterwards collected and pub¬
lished, in 1786, under the title of Memoires pour servir
a VHistoire et a VEtablissement du Magnetisme Animal.
The motto of his work is, “ Believe and will.” The ap¬
ophthegms, Active volition towards good ; firm belief in its
power; entire confidence in employing it,” are represented
by the marquis as the sum and substance of the whole
theory of his magnetic practice.
In the end of 1784, the Count Maxime de Puysegur
published an account of sixty cases cured by him in six
weeks by the magnetised trees. He ascribes all the merits
of his cure to Mesmer, and totally ignores his brother.
In 1785 the Count Maxime organized a society at Gui-
enne for the prosecution of animal magnetism.
About the same period, phenomena analogous to those
obtained by the marquis were observed at Lyons, but
elicited by different means. The Chevalier de Barbarin
established the spiritual school of magnetism. Setting
aside every mechanical means, he found that all the pheno¬
mena of animal magnetism could be produced by purely
mental agencies, by volition and faith, and more especially
by prayer. The motto of this school is, “ Will that which
is good; go and cure.”
At Lyons, also, patients in a state of magnetic sleep were
employed at an early period for detecting the diseases of
others. The author of a treatise, entitled Impartial Re¬
flections on Animal Magnetism, published in 1784, makes
the following illogical statement:—“ Till it is explained
how a magnetic somnambulist can point out, better than
any physician, the seat and the nature of a disease with
which another person is affected, I shall be warranted in be¬
lieving that it is by the magnetic action he detects so
promptly and so correctly what passes in the interior of the
body.” We would have formed a higher opinion of this
writer’s judgment, if he had suspended his belief altogether
till the required explanation had been given, and till it had
been satisfactorily proved that any human being could see
magnetically what passes in the interior of another body.
In the beginning of 1785 the Marquis de Puysegur, be¬
ing in Paris, by chance fell in with his original somnambu¬
list, Victor, who, as good luck would have it, was suffering
from feverish symptoms, in consequence of a fall. The
opportunity was too good to be lost; and he forthwith com¬
menced operations to convince the unbelieving Parisians by
ocular demonstration of the truth of his great discovery.
He took Victor to Mesmer, but met with a very cold recep¬
tion, as was naturally to be expected from one who scouted,
on all occasions, the pretensions of those who advanced any
thing that could be brought into competition with his own
sublime discovery. The heartless criticism, and injurious
suspicions of the Parisian salons, wounded the spirit of the
benevolent, though all too credulous, marquis. Victor
predicted that, on a given day, his complete cure would be
completed by a bleeding from the nose, and from the right
nostril only, between mid-day and one o’clock. On a
former occasion, the critical haemorrhage had taken place
during the night, a circumstance which had excited disbe¬
lief and ridicule of his pretensions. The expected day
arrived, the hour had come, and at half-past twelve blood
escaped from the right nostril. Could victory be more
complete ? Alas! the unbelievers doubted still; and the
marquis retired abashed, with the apparent confusion of an
unskilful juggler. Victor was cross-questioned, and disap¬
peared for two days. When he re-appeared, it was but too
evident that he had been drowning his cares, and comfort¬
ing his wounded spirit, in generous libations. The marquis
was easily satisfied with his explanations, and soon com¬
pleted his cure.
Notwithstanding the failure of Victor to produce faith in
the minds of the incredulous Parisians, the marquis caused
one of his female somnambulists, named Madeleine, to be
brought to Paris; but his success in the second attempt
was not greater than in the first. “ The opinion of the dis¬
believers prevailed over the small number of persons who,
trusting to my probity, believed in the somnambulism of
Madeleine.” The consequence of all this was, that the mar¬
quis fell ill, returned to Busancy, put himself under the treat¬
ment of his domestics, Ribault and Clement, and the school¬
master Vielet, and was in a few days restored to health.
At this period numerous papers on this subject, and
cases of magnetic somnambulism, were published by differ¬
ent individuals and societies in various parts of France.
In June 1785, the Marquis de Puysegur rejoined his
regiment in Strasburg, and received a letter from the Count
de Lutzelbourg, inviting him, on the part of a society of
freemasons, of which they were both members, to instruct
them in the principles of animal magnetism. He readily
complied with this invitation. The only condition which
he imposed was, that they should first acquire all possible
conviction of the reality of the discovery of Mesmer before
he communicated to them Mesmer’s papers. They were
soon convinced, and the exposition commenced. He began
by giving an outline of Mesmer’s lectures on the formation
of the universe, on the celestial bodies, on cohesion, on
elasticity, on gravity, on fire, on intension, and remission of
the properties of matter, &c. Such, he said, is a succinct
exposition of the lectures of Mesmer. His audience stared,
and asked what it all meant. They were unmistakably
disappointed with the ridiculous trifles which his pompous
and elaborate discourse had resulted in. “ This is all very
well,” they exclaimed, “ but your valet-de-chambre did not
think of chaotic matter, and the aggregation of atoms, when
he made somnambulists at Busancy.” After some days of
delay, to allow them to digest the mesmeric farrago, he
proceeded to explain to them the theory of volition, pro¬
pounded by Barbarin, and accepted by himself. Still dis¬
satisfied, they could extract from him nothing more than
the dogma, that to believe and will contains the whole doc¬
trine of magnetism.
It would almost appear that the marquis, by the solem¬
nity of the conditions imposed at the outset of his lectures,
had the design of taking his revenge upon Mesmer for the
coldness with which he received the somnambulic theory, by
exposing his doctrines in all their native crudity to a some¬
what critical audience, and thereby bespeaking a large share
of indulgence for the more vulnerable points in his own
favourite doctrine.
He delivered a second course of lectures to his fellow-
officers of the Metz regiment of royal artillery, which was
attended by them, and the officers of other regiments who
were not at that time oppressed with military duties. Hence
it was that the practice of somnambulism became very pre¬
valent among the officers of the French army.
Two societies were formed in Strasburg; one called the
Harmonic, under the direction of the Marquis de Puysegur;
and another, under Dr Ostertag, a pupil and follower of
Mesmer. As may be supposed, the society of the marquis
was the more popular of the two. The Harmonic pub¬
lished various works—1st, Expose des differentes Cures,
&c., 1786; 2d, Suite de Cures, &c., in 1787; 3d, Annales
de la Societe, &c. The publication of the fourth volume was
prevented by the Revolution. The Count de Lutzelbourg
was one of the most zealous practitioners of magnetic som¬
nambulism, and published various works on the subject;
among which was a systematic work, entitled Faits et No¬
tions Magnetiques, in 1788. The count is considered by
M. Deleuze to be a temperate and judicious author, the
tendency of his writings being to restrain enthusiasm, and
prevent the evil consequences of excessive confidence and
imprudent precipitation.
Somnam¬
bulism.
424
SOMNAMBULISM.
In 1787, M. Wurtz, doctor of medicine, a pupil of'Mesmer,
published, at Strasburg, a prospectus of a new course of
animal magnetism, &c., in defence of Mesmer, and hostile
to M. de Puysegur. He avers that Mesmer was well
acquainted with the phenomena of somnambulism ; but that,
from motives of prudence, and with a just appreciation of
the evil consequences to which it might lead, he abstained
from giving to it that publicity which it had obtained under
the auspices of M. de Puysegur.
Among the military practitioners of magnetism, one of
the most zealous was M. Tardy de Montravel, a captain of
artillery. He published an essay on the Theory of Mag¬
netic Somnambulism, in Nov. 1785. The magnetic treat¬
ment of Mile. N. he published in 1786, and that of Madame
B. in 1787. The case of the former is remarkable as the
first recorded instance of the transference of the senses;
for, with her eyes firmly bound, she read foreign, and to her
unknown, writings, as soon as they were laid close upon
the epigastrium. M. Deleuze states that this girl, of a
simple and illiterate character, could not read, even when
in the ordinary possession of her senses ; a statement which,
if true, might have rendered the bandaging of the eyes a
superfluous precaution. About the same period, other cases
of the same remarkable phenomenon were published. One
of these was the case of Mile. L. by M. Picher-Grand-
champ of Lyons. A case was communicated to M. de
Puysegur by M. Vialeter d’Aignan, a merchant at Mont-
auban, in which the patient asserted that, in the somnam¬
bulic state, she saw by the solar plexus, and not by the
eyes. Mile. L., a patient of Captain Masson d’Autun
(whose case is published in M. de Puysegur’s Researches,
p. 160), is mentioned as pointing to the stomachic plexus as
the seat of the feelings which informed her of her state.
But the case which seems first to have attracted parti¬
cular attention to the phenomenon of transference of the
senses, was one published in 1787 by M. Petetin, professor
to the College of Physicians in Lyons, and not a practi¬
tioner of, nor even, at that time at least, a believer in ani¬
mal magnetism. The subject of it was a young married
lady of a very hysterical temperament, whose health had
been impaired by anxiety and fatigue. At first she sung
incessantly till haemoptysis was brought on, which inter¬
rupted the singing. No effort could make her hear by the
auditory organ ; but it was found that her attention was
arrested, and replies vouchsafed when addressed near the
epigastrium, or when the person communicating with her
spoke into one of his hands, while the other was applied to
her epigastrium. She could discriminate playing cards by
feeling them with her hands. She could decipher writing
with the points of her fingers. She could tell the time by
feeling a watch through the glass. She could recognize an
object laid on her stomach, even if held in the shut hand
when the back of it was laid upon the epigastrium. If a
letter was enclosed in a box and held in the hand, she
could read the address on it. She could recognize an ob¬
ject placed under the clothes of a person who stood at some
distance from her stomach, and say to whom it belonged.
If an article of food was laid on the upper part of the abdo¬
men, she could immediately perceive its taste, even when
enclosed in a glass vessel; and if an aromatic substance was
placed on her stomach, she immediately recognised its odour,
and she could distinguish mixed substances in the same way.
M. Petetin attempted to explain these remarkable pheno¬
mena by the idea of a fine elastic matter in the stomach,
possessing all the properties of the electrical fluid, and he
attempted to show by experiments that the interposition of
non-conductors of electricity was completely destructive of
18 Patjent;,s extraordinary powers. This explanation is
pure y hypothetical and somewhat inconsistent, inasmuch
as it is averred that she could tell the hour through the
g ass o a watch, and perceive the taste of a substance con¬
tained in a glass vessel: a more rational explanation is Somnam-
within our reach, founded upon psychological and patholo- bulism.
gical principles; upon which, however, at present we ab-
stain from entering. Somnambulic cases similar to this,
and to those of M. Tardy, were published in Lyons two
years afterwards.
The phenomena observed in M. Petetin’s case, occurring
as they did without any magnetic process whatever, are
extremely valuable, as showing incontestably that the most
wonderful powers which magnetism can claim as its pro¬
ducts in the human organism, can arise spontaneously or
naturally from ordinary morbific causes.
A work, entitled An Essay on the Probabilities of Mag¬
netic Somnambulism, written by M. Fournel, an advocate,
in 1785, attempted to establish an analogy between the
phenomena of magnetic somnambulism and other extraor¬
dinary phenomena, w^ell known and admitted by medical
men and natural philosophers.
Besides the numerous scientific memoirs, reports of cases,
and philosophical treatises which appeared from the time
of Mesmer till the breaking out of the Revolution in 1788,
there was one singular production, a work of fiction, Le
Magnetiseur Amoureux, by M. V., or M. Charles Villers,
a member of the Harmonic Society of the Metz regiment,
an officer of the royal artillery, which, though in the form
of a romance, is described by M. Deleuze as at once a very
ingenious book of metaphysics, and one of the best treatises
which we possess on magnetism. If this criticism is just,
the work of M. Villers must have been a very bad work of
fiction. This is not the only instance in which magnetic
somnambulism has been made the principal feature in a
w ork of imagination. The Diary of a Physician, by Alex.
Dumas, or one of the collabofateurs of his numerous novels,
depends chiefly on the phenomena of somnambulism for the
farrago of astounding and improbable incidents of which it
is made up. Besides being a very dreary novel, it is neither
ingenious as a book of metaphysics, nor valuable as a trea¬
tise on magnetism.
With the commencement of the French revolution dis¬
appeared for a time all traces of the proceedings of the cul¬
tivators of animal magnetism and magnetic somnambulism.
In the meantime, however, the latter state became fami¬
liarly known in Germany, where, as we shall afterwards
see, it has since been made the subject of much experi¬
mental investigation, historical research, and philosophical
speculation.
In 1807 we find that M. de Puysegur attempted to call
the attention of his countrymen to this subject, by the
publication of his work, entitled, Du Magnetisme Animal
considere dans ses rapports avec diverses branches de la
Physique Gmerale.
In 1808 there appeared a posthumous work of M. Petetin
on animal electricity, containing several new cases of natural
somnambulism observed by him. Encouraged by these
cases, M. de Puysegur, now a veteran in the cause, brought
out, in 1809, a second edition of his Memoirs, and of the
work published in 1807. In 1811 he published his Phy¬
siological Researches, Experiments, and Observations on
Man in the State of Natural Somnambulism, and in the
Somnambulism induced by Magnetic Action. In this work,
as its title sufficiently indicates, the phenomena of natural
somnambulism are assumed to demonstrate that induced
somnambulism is in accordance with the laws of nature, and
that the magnetic action is the artificial method of pro¬
ducing this state, instead of, as would most naturally occur
to the mind of any one who was not the partisan of a par¬
ticular theory, being considered as the results of the ordi¬
nary psychological and pathological laws which govern the
human constitution.
In 1813 M. de Montegre published a collection of articles
which had appeared in the Journal de Paris, under the
Somnam- title, Du Magnetisme Animal et de ses Partisans, in order
bulism. to show, in reply to M. Hoffman, one of the editors of
the Journal de VEmpire, that no system had ever been
submitted to a more attentive and more authentic examin¬
ation than that of animal magnetism had been.
But of all the writers on animal magnetism who had
hitherto appeared, there is no one whose influence upon
its future destinies can be compared with that of M. De-
leuze, whose Histoire Critique du Magnetisme Animal,
the result of twenty-five years’ researches and meditations,
was published in 1813.
Of the three different schools in existence at this period,
viz., those of Mesmer, Puysegur, and Barbarin, M. Deleuze
attached himself to that of Puysegur, though he believed,
at the same time, that, notwithstanding the diversity of
theory, the same results were obtained in all of them. He
became a zealous advocate of the doctrine of a physical
agent as the cause on which the various phenomena de¬
pended. He believed in the existence of a fluid filling
all space, and penetrating all bodies; a modification of
which was recognised by Mesmer as capable of being di¬
rected by the will, though he had no facts to prove its
existence till somnambulism had brought them to light.
This fluid, which is under the control of the will, is not the
universal fluid, but a magnetic one, continually escaping
from our bodies, and forming around them an atmo¬
sphere, which, having no determinate current, does not act
sensibly on the persons near us; but when urged and directed
by our volition, it moves with all the force which we im¬
press on it; it is moved like the luminous rays emitted by
substances in a state of combustion. The chief difference
between M. Deleuze and M. de Puysegur has reference to
the various modes in which the magnetic fluid should be
brought into action, and the suitable occasions for its
employment. M. Deleuze, full of caution, and having re¬
spect to the prejudices prevalent against magnetism, was
dissatisfied with the imprudent revelations made in published
cases, which were calculated more to repel than to con¬
ciliate the favour of sober thinking men. He would have
avoided offensive and extravagant details, and accommo¬
dated himself more fully to the temper of his readers, by
omitting the exaggerations of enthusiastic disciples. This
excessive caution, if carried out, would have deprived us of
one of the most valuable means of estimating the value of
the testimony of the witnesses. Deleuze, in the interest of
somnambulism, would give only garbled statements of the
cases recorded, but impartial men, in the interest of truth,
demand that the whole mass of the evidence, with all its
minutest details, should be produced, as the only means
by which its value as a whole may be strictly and fairly
estimated.
“ The wise and moderate tone of the author,” says M. Bertrand,
“his attainments in the natural sciences, his character for morality,
which even his most violent adversaries have never thought of
attacking, all concurred to give to this book a success which works
on the same subject had been, up to that time, very far from obtain-
ing. This history was not only useful to the cause of animal mag¬
netism in procuring for it a great number of proselytes, it helped
it likewise by encouraging those who practised magnetism in secret
openly to declare themselves its partisans; people were no longer
ashamed to avow opinions which had been defended by a writer so
respectable.”
In the first part of his work, M. Deleuze, after some in¬
troductory remarks on the discovery of animal magnetism,
Us publication and propagation, and the obstacles by which
U had been opposed, proceeded to an exposition of the
proofs of magnetism, and the means of convincing one’s
Sf rea ^en Seated, in successive chapters,
of the magnetic fluid, and the means by which magnetism
acts ; of the processes employed in magnetism ; of the differ¬
ence of force among magnetisers; of the influence which
the confidence of patients may have on the efficacy of the
VOL. XX.
SOMNAMBULISM.
425
magnetic treatment; of the application of magnetism to the Somnam-
cure of diseases; of magnetic somnambulism; of the incon- bulism.
veniences, abuses, and dangers of magnetism; of some re-
mai able circumstances which had presented themselves to
ns observation in the practice of the art; of the mystical
octrines, and their association with magnetism. This
work may be regarded as the most systematic treatise on
ie subject which had at that time appeared in France,
tnough one still more complete had been published in Ger¬
many two years before, by Professor Kluge, of Berlin, under
tne title, Versuch einer Darstellung des Animalischen Maq-
nehsmus, als Heilmittel; of which a second and a third un¬
changed edition have since appeared. The following short
statement by Deleuze, of the somnambulic effect of mag¬
netism will show what was the state of belief on this sub-
jec w nc . prevailed, at that period, among a large portion
of magnetisers in France:—
“ W hen magnetism produces somnambulism,” says he, “ the being
who finds himself in this state acquires a prodigious extension in
the faculty of feeling. Several of his exterior organs, usually those
of sight and hearing, are rendered torpid, and all the sensations
which depend on them are performed interiorly. There is in this
state an infinite number of shades and varieties; but to form a cor¬
rect judgment respecting it, it must be examined in its greatest re¬
moteness from the state of waking, passing over in silence every¬
thing that experience has not established. The somnambulist has
ms eyes closed, and does not see by the eyes, nor hear by the ears *
but he sees and hears better than a waking man. He sees and
hears only those with whom he is in relation. He sees only that
which he looks at, and he usually looks only at those objects to
which his attention is directed. He is subject to the will of his
magnetiser for everything that cannot harm him, and for every¬
thing that is. not opposed to his ideas of justice and truth. He feels
the will of his magnetiser; he perceives the magnetic fluid; he sees,
or rather he feels, the interior of his own body, and those of others;
but he usually remarks only the parts which are not in the natural
state, and which disturb the harmony of the economy; he refinds
in his memory the remembrance of things which he had forgotten
while awake; he has pre-visions and pre-sensations, which may be
erroneous in several circumstances, and which are limited in their
extent; he expresses himself with a surprising facility; he is not
exempt from vanity; he improves of himself, for a certain length
of time, if he is wisely managed; he spoils if he is ill directed.
When he re-enters into the natural state, he loses absolutely the re¬
collection of all sensations, and of all ideas which he has had in the
state of somnambulism, so that these two states are as unconnected
with one another, as if the somnambulist and the waking man were
two different beings.”
In the year 1813 there appeared, in the sixth volume of
the Dictionnaire des Sciences Medicates, an article entitled
“ Convulsionnaires,”by M. de Montegre, having special refer¬
ence to the scenes which occurred at the tomb of Deacon
Paris, where many sick persons, who went to pray at the tomb,
were seized with convulsions. In comparing these phenomena
with those produced by mesmerism, he regards both as
depending, not on any special agent, like magnetism, but
upon the great law of the mutual and reciprocal influence
of the moral upon our physical, and of our physical upon
our moral, constitution. He also insists, strongly and
justly, on the influence of hysteria in the production of
these various phenomena.
In the same year a society of amateurs commenced to meet
in the house of M. de Commun, in Paris, for experiments
on somnambulism, reading of cases, and conversation. This
led to the establishment of the Magnetic Society of Paris in
July 1815. M. de Puysegur was made president, and M.
Deleuze vice-president. Another consequence of the
reunions of M. de Commun was the publication of a perio¬
dical journal, entitled Annales du Magnetisme Animal.
From 1814 to 1816 eight volumes were brought out. In
1817 the journal was revived, under the title Bibliotheque
du Magnetisme Animal. It was edited by the Baron
d’Henin, secretary to the Magnetic Society, and was subject
to the control of M. Deleuze.
This journal, like the Annales, of which it was a continua-
3 H
426
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam¬
bulism.
lion extended to eight volumes. Of the many curious
and’remarkabie cases contained in the sixteen volumes, the
Mowing brief notes of some may be taken as a sample:-
1 The case of Clothilde Lemeunier, who was able to trace, from
1. I he cas® ° the development of her own offspring, of the
a very early pe J,ts of which she furnished most
progress though the German reviewer in Eschenmayer’s man.
minute deta •> S detectg gome awkward blunders in her
anatomical statements, a circumstance the less calculated to excite
anatomic known that her magnetiser was a military
SmPrlSe Had he been a Baer or a Burdacb, we doubt not her
anatomy of foetal development would have set all criticism at
deuance.^ ^ an apparently healthy girl, who, falling at once
into the state of self-intuition, saw the marks of an injury of her
spleen, which had occurred some years before _
^ 3 The case of a woman, who saw in a child six months old the
eerms of smallpox, which were to occur twelve months after¬
wards, and which bore at the time a striking resemblance to
paternoster balls or rosary beads.
4. The somewhat romantic case of Major Pittman s maid-ser-
van't whose master, being obliged to sail for India before having
completed her cure, left her a white pocket handkerchief, which
should secure her falling into the state of somnambulism when he
thought of her. Nor would it be proper to omit
5 The far sight in time of a somnambulist who foresaw the
entrance of the allies into Paris in 1814 a considerable time before
it happened, and who walked in the somnambulic state from Paris
to Orleans, a distance of 70 miles; nor
6. The far sight in space of the somnambulist who, in the depth
of winter, saw that a plant which had been prescribed for her, but
which was at a distance of many miles, was not frozen.
Nor is the Bibliotheque deficient in cases rivaling those of the
Annales in marvel; as for instance—
7. The case of Madame Vernot, who was made several times to
see that the child of which she was at the time pregnant was a
boy, and foretold when she should feel its motion.
g That of Dr Rouillier, into whose interior a somnambulist
saw’sufficiently distinctly, in 1788, to be able to assure him that
he had not had the smallpox; and
9. That of Mademoiselle L., who foresaw that, but for the use of
certain decoctions which she prescribed for herself, she would have
died of five ulcers in the womb.
The Baron d’Henin attempted to continue the Biblio¬
theque under the title of Journal of Animal Magnetism,
in 1818, but only one number appeared. In May 1820 he
brought out the Archives du Magnetisme Animal, of which
eight volumes appeared in that and the following yeais.
The first two numbers, consisting of an introductory address
by the editor, were afterwards brought out as a separate
work, under the title Be Magnetisme Eclaire. From this
work, and subsequent volumes of the Archives, we find that
considerable difference of opinion existed among the mem¬
bers of the Magnetic Society of Paris. M. Deleuze, and
a portion of the members, held the view that there is a pai*-
ticular magnetic fluid; while the baron, and some others,
dissented from that doctrine. It would appear that the ma¬
jority of the society were intolerant of the opposition which
he offered, and he complains bitterly of its degeneration from
its original purpose, which was to investigate the nature of
magnetism, and ascertain its effects. Instead of this, he
maintains that the society adopted a system (that of Deleuze)
on too slight grounds; that it did not attempt to verify the
phenomena on which such a system might be founded ; that
it had not the support of a single rigorous experiment, and
that it did not permit contradictory experiments. It has
admitted, he asserts, without judgment and without criticism,
all the facts which have been addressed to it; and if it has
seemed to verify them, it has been only to give countenance
to their improbability and absurdity. It has rejected all the
observations that have been made to it upon this subject;
and, in place of returning to the path of truth, has plunged
itself deeper and deeper in the abyss of error. The magi¬
cians of animal magnetism have never chosen to undergo
the proof of a public discussion, but have contented them¬
selves, in their conversations, with relating to one another.
without permitting contradictions, the marvels, prodigies, Somnam-
and miracles, to which they accorded their admiration, bulism.
The society, in short, has adopted as its principle, that it
ou«-ht to consolidate itself, and preserve its harmony, only
bv the unity of all its members in the belief, or rathei in
the most lively faith, in the facultative magnetic fluid of
“ Almost all the relations of magnetic cures,” says the Baron at
another place (p. 127), “ present circumstances that are assuredly
improbable. The marvellous slides in at every page. There rs
scarcely a somnambulist who is not represented as more or less
endowed with miraculous powers, and principally that of seeing, so
to speak, materially, and without change of place, real effective
events happening at very remote distances, and of giving an account
of them as if he had been an eye-witness. What I have expressed,
the magnetists in general allege; and several attest it, and say they
have positively verified it. I am not to he told that these are false
allegations on my part; to be convinced of them one has only to
read any of the relations, printed or in manuscript, which contain
instances of animal magnetism. It is in vain to object to me, that
I have not been well acquainted with the processes of magnetism,
that I have not put them in practice, that I have not seen remark¬
able facts, or that I have observed them badly; I shall not allow
myself to be imposed upon by such denials. I have read, or run
over, almost all the books which treat of magnetism ; I have lived
among magnetisers ; I have seen them magnetise, and I have mag¬
netised with them. I have restrained my incredulity, the better
to allow them to reason, and more frequently to speak nonsense
(dfraisonner), and to push their pretensions to the uttermost. I
have often heard the very facts which had occurred before my eyes
related in such a way that I could scarcely recognise them, so much
were they disfigured by the enthusiasm and exaggeration of those
who had been witnesses of them, or who had themselves produced
them.”
The value of the foregoing criticism on the proceedings
of the Magnetic Society of Paris, coming as it did from one
who acted as its secretary till its dissolution, in 1820, can¬
not be too highly estimated. It shows us very clearly how
great an amount of caution is required before accepting as
true any of the wonderful cases which were at that time
published under the auspices of the society, and it applies
with equal force to all the subsequent records ot somnam¬
bulism.
In 1818 appeared the article Magnetisme Animal, in the
Dictionnaire des Sciences Medicates, by M. Virey, in which
he attempted to show that the phenomena of animal mag¬
netism, which are well established, are referrible to the
principle of the reciprocal dependence of the corporeal and
spiritual parts of the human economy on one another. In
reply Deleuze published, in the following year, his Defense
du Magnetisme Animal contre les Attaques dont il est l objet
dans le Diet. d. Sc. Med. Public attention was fiirthei di¬
rected, at this time, to the magnetic doctrines, by a public
course of lectures on the subject by M. Bertrand, to whom
we shall shortly have to refer.
In 1820, when the Magnetic Society expired, and M.
Bertrand was lecturing, a series of experiments on animal
magnetism were performed in the wards of the Hotel Dieu,
of Paris, under the authority of M. Husson, physician to
the hospital. The principal subject of the experiments w'as
Mile. Sanson, a girl of eighteen, who, in consequence of a
fright, laboured under a menstrual suppression, accompanied
with vomiting. M. Dupotet was the operator. Twenty-
four separate experiments were made, in most of which
something striking was evolved. Without entering into
details, as it is to be feared that this young woman most
egregiously imposed upon those who had her in charge,
we shall only mention a few of the more remarkable
phenomena which she exhibited in such profusion. At the
first trial the vomiting was stopped; at the third she fell
into the state of somnambulism, out of which it was difficult
to rouse her; at the sixth she could only hear the questions
of M. Dupotet, who was in magnetic relation with her. She
was insensible to various loud noises made by the by¬
standers. At the eighth she had not arrived at an exact
S 0 M N A M
Somnam- knowledge of the nature of her disease, but she had disco-
bulism. vered the remedy for it. “ Continue to magnetise me,”
she said, “ and I shall be cured.” At the tenth she was
magnetised through an oaken partition in three minutes;
on inquiry she announced that she would become lucid.
She felt the slightest touch of M. Dupotet, but not that of
any of the spectators. At the end of the sitting she became
convulsed, in consequence of the touch of a hand not in
relation with her. At the eleventh she was again magne¬
tised through a partition ; at the thirteenth she was pinched
by M. Recamierwithout producing any sensible effect, except
convulsions on coming out of the magnetic state; at the
fourteenth she saw a great light before her eyes, and pro¬
phesied that she would see her disease at the next sitting.
Accordingly, at the fifteenth she declared that she saw her
stomach red, and full of red pimples {boutons), and that she
would never be cured of her disease; at the sixteenth she
saw five pimples, larger than the others, and a small bag
full of blood near her heart, out of which the blood she had
vomited proceeded. On this occasion she was charged with
deception. She continued to see her disease till the twenty-
fourth sitting, on the 17th November, when the incredulous
M. Geoffroi, who had come into charge of the wards in
place.of the more credulous M. Husson, gave orders that
the magnetic practices should be discontinued. On the
occasion of the vomiting returning, M. Geoffroi permitted
M. Robouam to magnetise her, when the vomiting ceased.
Among those who were not satisfied that these experi¬
ments had been conducted in good faith, on the part of the
somnambulist at least, if not on the part of her magnetiser,
were M. Bertrand {Du Magnetisme Animal, p. 259) and
M. Recamier.
Soon after the experiments at the Hotel Dieu, similar
trials were made at the Salpetriere Hospital, which had the
effect of enlisting in the cause of animal magnetism two
physicians, whose adoption of this belief was well calculated
to make an impression upon those who were acquainted
with their characters and dispositions, viz., MM. Georget
and Rostan. The former, in his work on the physiology of
the nervous system, published in 1821, observes, that the
facts which he has mentioned with respect to somnambulism
are for him, as well as for the distinguished physicians who
have been witnesses of them, the fruit of an intimate con¬
viction, acquired by a number of trials, and guaranteed by
the most rigorous precautions. He did not publish his ex¬
periments, but they are recorded in a work, entitled Cures
Operees en France par le Magnetisme Animal.
Several years later, in an article published in the 13th vol¬
ume of the Dictionnaire de Medecine (Nov. 1825),M. Ros¬
tan made confession of his faith in the following terms:—
“ I repeat, what I am to write of these phenomena I have
seen, and I have seen frequently. I have not contented
myself with observing it on one single person, but I have
submitted several to this kind of investigation. I have
taken for the subjects of my observations persons of different
classes, of different sexes; persons, several of whom were
even ignorant of the name of magnetism; literary charac¬
ters, students in medicine, epileptics, ladies of fashion,
young girls, &c., some of whom were even afraid to sub¬
ject themselves to my experiments. 1 have continued
this kind of examinations for several years, on account of
its inspiring me with great interest.” “ It was physically
impossible that there should be any connivance, or any
communication, among the persons upon whom 1 made my
observations.”
Notwithstanding the boasted rigour and variety of the
experiments made by these eminent men, it is a sad and
melancholy fact, as was afterwards sufficiently proved, that
they were the dupes of designing females, who, at great
personal inconvenience and discomfort, made fun {s’est
moquee de) of them, as we shall afterwards see. Dr Elliot-
B U L I S M. 427
son, of London, w’as undoubtedly placed in the same awk- Somnam-
ward predicament by two clever Irish girls, the O’Keys, bulism.
Such cases prove to us how little confidence we ought to
place in such experiments on the declarations of hysterical
and designing females, who seem sometimes to be endowed
with all but supernatural powers of endurance and decep¬
tion. Our readers will easily remember many remarkable
cases of females convicted of the most elaborate attempts
at imposition in matters totally unconnected with somnam¬
bulism, and actuated apparently by a morbid desire of
attracting notice.
On the testimony of M. Londe, the collaborateur of M.
Georget, and the witness of all his experiments, we learn
that the persons who were the subjects of his experiments
afterwards boasted of the deceptions which they had practised.
M. Dechambre, in a letter published in the Gazette Medi¬
cate (12th Sept. 1835), informs us, that having discovered
one of the females on whom Georget’s experiments had
been made (Manoury dite Braquette, since become Veuve
Brouillard), he, with some of his companions, completely
exposed, by a series of experiments, tlje hollowness of her
pretensions. In a second letter, M. Dechambre informs us
that another of Georget’s heroines, Petronille by name,
died of consumption at the Salpetriere in 1833. Two
house-pupils, M.M. Gorre and Perrochard, of the ward
into which she was received, authorised him to declare, that
she had frequently stated to them that she never experi¬
enced the slightest symptom of somnambulism; that she
had always imposed upon {Jest moquee de) Georget and the
others ; and that she and Brouillard had amused themselves
in recounting the mystifications of the day, and preparing
.for those of the succeeding.
In 1823 M. Bertrand published a treatise, entitled Traite
du Somnambulisme et des diverses Modifications qu’il Pre¬
sente, in which he showed with how much facility the ima¬
gination may produce somnambulism, and that reasonable
magnetisers cannot refuse to acknowledge that, in a great
number of circumstances, the imagination produces it alone ;
and that, in all cases, it cannot fail at least to concur power¬
fully in its production.
In 1825, M. Foissac, a young physician, who had be¬
come a convert to animal magnetism, presented memoirs
on the subject to the Academies of Science and Medicine
{Rapports et Discussions de VAcad. Roy. de Med. sur le
Mag. An.), and asked for a commission to examine and re¬
port on its merits, chiefly as to the power it gives of detect¬
ing the diseases of others, of announcing their future course,
and directing their treatment. The Academy of Science
did not respond to his call. The Academy of Medicine
was still more neglectful, as it did not even acknowledge
his communication. He again, however, brought the sub¬
ject under the attention of the latter body by a letter on the
11th October, and stated that he had a somnambulist at
his disposal, whom he offered as the subject of any experi¬
ments which it might be thought proper to make. The
opinions of the Academy being divided, a middle course
was adopted on the motion of the president, and MM.
Adelon, Pariset, Marc, Husson, and Burdin, were appointed
a committee—M. Renaudin refusing to be placed on it to
report on the question, Whether it was proper for the Aca¬
demy to occupy itself with animal magnetism? On the
13th December, the report, drawn up by M. Husson, who
had been engaged in the experiments at the Hotel Dieu,
was laid on the table. Its conclusion was to the effect,—
1. That the judgment of the commission of 1784 did not
dispense with a new examination of the subject. 2. That
the experiments on which that judgment was founded were
performed without a general plan, without the simultaneous
and necessary concurrence of all the commissioners, and with
moral dispositions which must have caused these experi¬
ments to miscarry. 3. That the animal magnetism of 1784
428
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam- differed entirely from the magnetic somnambulism of 1825.
bulism. 4 That they should not be behind the German physicians
V—^ in the study of this subject.^ 5. That its examination by
the Academy would withdraw its use and practice from
those who followed it as an object of lucre and speculation.
After a discussion of three days, the report was adopted by
35 to 25 voices; and on the 28th February 1826 a com¬
mission was named, consisting of MM. Leroux, Bourdois
de la Mothe, Double, Magendie, Guersent, Laennec, Thil-
laye, Marc, Itard, Fouquier, and Guenau de Mussy. On
account of the ill health of M. Laennec, M. Husson was
named in his stead. On the 7th August M. Husson was
appointed the reporter; but from various causes the report
was not presented till the 21st June 1831.
Meanwhile, outside the walls of the Academy this subject
continued to be prosecuted with zeal.
In 1826 appeared M. Bertrand’s work, entitled DuMag-
netisme Animal en France, he., suivi de considerations
sur Vapparition de VExtase dans les Traitements Magne-
tiques. The first part of this important work is historical.
In the second part the author attacks the very foundation of
animal magnetism, and maintains that no physical agent
is concerned in the production of artificial somnambulism.
Of this work M. Deleuze says {Hermes, vol. i.), “of all the
attacks directed against magnetism, up to the present day,
this is the most powerful, the most imposing, and the most
ably combined. The author is a man of genius, &c. He
has been occupied with magnetism for some years. He
has joined its practice to that of medicine, and he has even
taught its doctrines in public lectures. A more attentive
examination, and new experiments, have dissuaded him
from a belief which he himself propagated; he undertakes
to undeceive others, and to prove that magnetism is a mere
chimera. Certainly his conviction must be very strong.”
M. Bertrand, like the Baron d’Henin, was not long in dis¬
covering the weak and untenable points of the common
theories, and like him also was not slow to point out the
exaggerations and misrepresentations of those enthusiasts
whose powers of judgment are eclipsed by the force of their
imaginations. Instead of calling in the aid of a new hypo¬
thetical imponderable, working silently and mysteriously in
the human organism, as well as throughout space, he was
contented to accept the phenomena as subjective states,
presenting themselves under the most diversified forms in
all ages, as states not essentially morbid, though certain
diseases greatly predispose to them, and never supervening,
except under determinate circumstances.
At a meeting of the surgical section of the Academy of
Medicine, on the 16th April 1829, M. Jules Cloquet men¬
tioned the case of a lady, a patient of a celebrated Parisian
magnetiser, M. Chapelain, whose breast he had extirpated
a few days before, on account of a cancerous affection,
while she was in a state of magnetic sleep, without her dis¬
playing the slightest mark of sensibility during its removal.
This case is remarkable as one of the first recorded in¬
stances of an operation performed on a patient in the state
of anaesthesia. The result of the case was unhappy; on
the twelfth day after the operation the patient died of pleu¬
risy, caused by imprudent exposure. This person piqued
herself, we learn, on her somnambulic powers ; and we have
ample evidence to show to what a prodigious extent female
endurance can go in bearing pain, without giving expression
to the feelings, when actuated by some powerful motive.
We frankly admit that, in this case, no feeling of pain was
expressed; but no one can tell whether it was felt or not,
except the patient herself, who, in the circumstances, was
the least likely to do so. On inquiry, it was found that she
claimed the power of self-intuition and prevision, and that
she had announced the existence of a lesion of the liver.
Unfortunately for her credit as a clairvoyante, the scalpel did
not reveal any disease of that organ, and disclosed only a
purulent effusion into the pleural cavity. As a proof of the Somnain-
little faith that should be attached to the cases reported bv bulism.
professed mesmerists, it will be found {Hermes, vol. iv.,
p.*l73 to 204) that M. Pigault Lebrun has made it to appear
that, in this case, it was the daughter of the patient who
possessed the faculties of lucidity and prevision, and that
the post mortem appearances found in her mother’s body
are made fully to confirm her predictions.
As already stated, the report of the commission of the
Academy was read by M. Husson on the 21st June 1831.
It was continued on the 28th. The report was, on the ad¬
mission of M. Husson, cooked, in so far as the facts observed
by the commission were not reported in the order in which
they were observed, but arranged so that the phenomena
were made to appear gradually to rise from nullity to a de¬
gree of perfect certainty, by an ingenious process of pro¬
gressive development:—1. From nothing; 2. to something
little marked; 3. to a product of ennui, monotony, and ima¬
gination ; and, 4. to a high degree of probability that they
are produced by magnetism alone, independent of the latter
causes. The Examen Historique et Raisonne des Expe¬
riences Pretendues Magnetiques of M. Dubois (d’Amiens)
is a most masterly and complete exposure, both of the
method and conclusions of this report, and is well worth the
attentive perusal of every one who studies this subject. Its
contrivance, so as to afford to those disposed to believe a
ladder by which they may mount by easy steps from tbe
familiar to the extraordinary, and from the extraordinary to
the marvellous; the assumption which it involves of the
point at issue, viz., the existence of such a power as mag¬
netism ; the absurdity of recognising as one division of their
facts null effects of magnetism ; the trifling character of their
second division of facts, comprehending what they entitle
the effects of little consideration; the inconsequence of de¬
claring, in respect of the third class of the so-called effects
of magnetism, that they are the effects of ennui, monotony,
and imagination, are all pointed out with a vigorous hand;
whilst, in respect of the fourth class, in which the pheno¬
mena were of a more mysterious character, M. Dubois in¬
sists on the total neglect, on the part of the commissioners,
of proper precautions against deception and collusion between
the magnetisers and their somnambulists. We cannot
enter into the details of the cases embodied in M. Husson’s
report. The most of them were signal failures. M. Fois-
sac’s somnambulist, Mile. Coeline, from whom great things
were promised, completely broke down. Mile. Couturier,
produced by M. de Geslin, was also an egregious failure.
A female somnambulist of Dr Chapelain, who prophesied
that, on a given day and hour, she would discharge a tape¬
worm as long as her arm, was duly waited on by the com¬
missioners, but the reward of their assiduity was only an
ordinary alvine evacuation. The experiments of M. E)u-
potet also failed. In the case of a man named Chamet, and
a female called Lemaitre, he failed to produce convulsions
in any part of the body towards which he pointed his finger,
as he had promised. The most remarkable, case, the one
on which the more important conclusion was founded,
was in reality more a failure than a success. A man
called Cazot, who was an epileptic, predicted the days and
hours on which his fits would return. The prediction of
events of this kind is not at all wonderful, even though the
events should correspond with the prophecy; but in this
case the somnambulist did not foresee that he would be
killed by a vehicle on the street before the period when the
events prophesied were to take place. The explanation
that the prevision was only interior and organic, and did
not provide against external accidents, is not consistent with
the claims of other somnambulists, who pretend that they are
able to foretell when their ankle is to be sprained, or when
other people are to die. Nevertheless, for every failure there
is always a ready excuse, however inconsistent that may be
SOMNAMBULISM.
429
Somnam- with the somnambulist’s previous promises, or the exagge-
bulism. rated pretensions of others in the same state. Mile. Coeline,
who was first experimented on, and who so signally failed,
was taken by M. Foissac to examine the state of a young
lady, the daughter of a peer of France, and, after some
manipulation, described the pathological condition of her
abdominal viscera, and prescribed a somewhat unusual
mode of treatment, viz., the milk of a goat which had been
rubbed with mercurial ointment—which had already been
prescribed and employed by MM. Dupuytren and Husson.
The report of this wonderful coincidence was received with
a general explosion of marks of incredulity in the Academy.
The only other case worthy of note was that of Paul Villa-
grand, who pretended to be affected with palsy, and who by
an elaborate, though very transparent course of deception,
also pretended that he was cured by magnetism. This young
man came under the observation of M. Velpeau. After
many trials of different modes of treatment, the moxa was
proposed for his paralytic ailment; but the fear of so pain¬
ful an ordeal made him abandon his deception. '
After M. Husson read his report, the Academy declined
to print it, but allowed it to be lithographed. “ It was
read,” says M. Dubois, “ but not adopted; heard, but not
approved.” The silence of the Academy is interpreted by
M. Foissac, somewhat contradictorily, to mean an expres¬
sion of consent.
In 1832 M. Filassier having been cured of a chronic
enteritis by M. Chapelain, assisted by a somnambulist, in
order to discharge his debt of gratitude, published a gra¬
duation thesis, which contained many cases of persons who
could see by the epigastrium; who could discover the dis¬
eases of others, &c.; who could see what was going on at
seventy miles’ distance; who, being lame, could be made to
walk without crutches; who were relieved of the pains of
parturition and the like—all through the power of magnetic
somnambulism. (Vide Magnet. An., in Diet. Pract. de
Med. et Chir.)
Though the academy had waived the discussion of M.
Husson’s report, it could not prevent the subject from
again penetrating within its walls. At its meeting on the
24th January 1837 (Bull, i., 343), a case of painless tooth
extraction, in magnetic sleep, was mentioned; and at the
meeting of the 14th February a letter was read from M.
Berna, apparently a magnetic practitioner, offering to submit
certain somnambulists to a commission of the academy.
MM. Roux, Bouillaud, Emery, Oudet (the dentist in the
case referred to above), Hipp. Cloquet, and Dubois were
named a commission, to which were afterwards added MM.
Cornac, Pelletier, and Caventou. The report of this com¬
mission, drawn up by M. Dubois, was presented to the aca¬
demy on the 12th August, and read at that and the sub¬
sequent meeting. The subject of the experiments, which
were performed in M. Roux’s parlour, was a nervous girl of
about seventeen years of age. The following is the pro¬
gramme of proceedings drawn up by M. Berna :—
1. Somnambulization.
2. Demonstration of insensibility to punctures and to tickling.
3. Restoration of sensibility by mental volition.
4. Obedience to the mental order of losing the power of motion.
5. Obedience to the mental order of ceasing in the midst of a
conversation to reply ; mental order to reply anew.
6. Repetition of the same experiment, the magnetiser being
separated from the somnambulist by a door.
7. Awakening.
8. Conformably with a mental order, which shall have been en¬
joined during the somnambulic state, persistence of insensibility
on awakening, and persistence also of the faculty of losing and
recovering this sensibility at the will of the magnetiser.
It will be observed that in this programme there is no
allusion made to the higher phenomena of clairvoyance,
prevision, transference of the senses, &c. The experiments
bearing on the 1st, 2d, and 7th heads were of an undecided
character. The results of the experiments illustrating the
4th head were as follows: — When M. Berna mentally
paralysed her right arm only, she declared that both the
right leg and the right arm were paralysed. He next
mentally paralysed her left leg, but she affirmed that she
could move that leg very well, but not at all the left arm.
This experiment was repeated with the same result. In¬
advertently she did move the left arm also, though she
had declared her inability to do so. The experiments on
the 3d and 5th articles also completely failed.
After many objections on his part, M. Berna was in¬
duced by the commissioners to exhibit experiments illus¬
trative of vision without the assistance of the eyes. The
somnambulist on this occasion was a female, thirty years
of age, but every one of the experiments resulted in
complete failure. Without having the candour to say
that she did not see what was on the cards, she persisted
in making guesses, no one of which even approached the
truth.
The conclusions of this report were all, therefore, justly
condemnatory of the pretended powers of somnambulists.
M. Berna protested against it, and M. Husson, who had
strong leanings in favour of somnambulism, and advoca¬
ted the adoption of a resolution to the effect that the only
conclusion that can be deduced from the report is, that in
the experiments made by M. Berna before the commission,
it has not seen any of the phenomena which that physi¬
cian had announced would be produced. The discussion
was continued on the 5th September, and the academy
adopted the conclusions of the report. The following year
M. Berna published a reply, entitled Magnetisme Animal,
Examen et Refutation du Rapport par Dubois d VAca¬
demic Royale de Medecine.
At the meeting of the academy on the 5th September,
M. Burdin, a member of the committee of 1825, offered a
prize of 3000 francs to any one who could read without
the assistance of light, of the eyes, and of touch. The
council of administration reported favourably of the proposal
of M. Burdin at the next meeting (12th September), and re¬
commended that the time should be limited to two years, if
the prize had not previously been merited. The money
was lodged, and a commission, consisting of MM. Dubois,
Double, Chomel, Husson, Louis, Gerardin, and Moreau,
was nominated on the 19th.
The commission, soon after its appointment, published
an announcement inviting magnetisers to produce before
it any of their somnambulists capable of fulfilling the terms
of M. Burdin’s offer. {Bulletin, i., 944; ii., 17.) Many
communications were received, setting forth the most pre¬
posterous claims, but there was only one somnambulist
produced before the commission, viz., Mile. Pigeaire, the
daughter of a physician at Montpellier. We need not
delay to consider the communication of M. Petriconi, ma¬
gistrate at Calvi, in Corsica {Bull, i., 944), concerning the
husband who satisfied his paternal feelings by predicting
that his wife would bring forth a son; or the clairvoyant
who announced the result of an election at Bastia, 40 miles
off; nor that of M. Hublier {Bull, ii., 126), surgeon-in¬
chief of the hospitals of Provins, who promised to present
to the commission a person capable of reading without the
assistance of the eyes, as soon as the necessary training
had been completed; nor that of Dr Birmann of Pirna, in
Hanover {Bull, ii., 127), who knew a young person who
was able to read not only German but other languages
which she did not know, without the intervention of the
eyes; nor that of Dr Bergeron (p. 397), who was acquainted
with a young somnambulic girl who had the faculty of see¬
ing in the dark and through opaque bodies ; nor that of M.
Despine of Aix-les-Bains, in Savoy (p. 631), mentioning
two cases of transposition of the senses, one of which he had
taken under his own immediate charge in order to study
Somnam¬
bulism.
SOMNAMBULISM.
430
Somnam- the phenomena, which he found to consist of hearing,
bulism. reading, seeing, smelling, tasting, and touching with the
,s>—feet and hands ; as none of the remarkable persons referred
to were produced before the commission in Paris in order to
have their alleged powers put to the tests necessary to be
gone through before the prize could be awarded. We must
confine our attention, therefore, to Mile. Pigeaire, who
was brought to Paris in order to be examined by the com¬
mission. " The terms on which the prize was to be awarded
had, in the meantime, been relaxed by M. Burdin, in so
far as to allow light to be used as well as the fingers, provided
a plate of glass was interposed. This concession was made
as Mile, could not read, it was admitted, without a certain
degree of light. The next difficulty which arose between
M. Pigeaire and the commissioners was in reference to the
apparatus to be used for bandaging the eyes. That offered
by the commissioners was rejected by M. Pigeaire, and he
insisted on using his own, which they, in their turn, very
properly rejected, and gave M. Pigeaire to understand that
it belonged to them to determine the form of the mask to
be used in the experiments. The president proposed a
movable veil to be placed over M. Pigeaire’s mask, but
this was also rejected, on the pretence that the cheeks re¬
quired to be uncovered, as he was not disinclined to think,
with several persons, that his daughter might read by means
of the nerves of the face. To obviate this objection, a
member proposed conical tubes to conduct the light to the
cheek; but this was also refused by M. Pigeaire. On
inquiry it was found that Mile. Pigeaire could not read for
a space of time varying from a quarter of an hour to an
hour and a half after the application of the bandage. It
was also admitted that she was in the habit of performing
a greater or less number of movements with the muscles of
the face. Another point to which the commission attached
much importance, was the position of the book in which
Mile. Pigeaire was to read. The commission desired the
book to be placed directly in front of her, and on a level with
her eyes. M. Pigeaire said that the book must be placed
on his daughter’s knees or on a table, and that she could
not read with the book in face of her on a level with her
eyes. He also declared that his daughter would be unable
to read, and that she would fall into convulsions if one of
the commissioners applied his fore-finger on the lower
border of the bandage. Towards the conclusion of the
sitting, M. Pigeaire said, that at other times his daughter
had read words placed in the interior of a box ; but,
though the commission declared that this experiment would
be held decisive, if performed in their presence, he de¬
clined it.
The commission having been thus resisted on all hands
in their endeavours to secure the necessary precautions
against the somnambulist reading with the eyes, encumbered
it might be with certain obstacles, but yet not altogether pre¬
vented from seeing, there is little wonder that it declined
to be a party to the experiments at all. Some members
of the academy regretted that the commission had not
proceeded the length of experiments, but it seems to have
been generally acknowledged that the precautions which
they had insisted upon were reasonable.
At the meeting of the 7th of August, M. Berna offered, in
the name of several magnetisers, 50,000 and 70,000 francs
to any person who, in the natural state, should read with
the bandage usually employed for covering the eyes of
Mile. Pigeaire. This foolish challenge was not accepted,
as it was quite manifest that, if it had, conditions would have
been imposed such as the commission had insisted upon,
which would have rendered the accomplishment of the feat
impossible.
As the period of the concours terminated in October
1839, and as no candidate had yet offered himself, M. Bur¬
din, on the 30th July of that year, made further modifica¬
tions of the conditions on which it might be competed for,
in order to induce magnetisers to come forward. He said,
“ Bring us a person magnetised or not magnetised, asleep
or awake; let that person read with the eyes open through
an opaque substance, such as tissue of cotton, linen, or silk,
placed at six inches from the face, or read even through
a simple sheet of paper, and that person shall have the
3000 francs.” (Bull, de V Acad., m., \\23.) No candidate
appeared, and the money reverted to its owner.
If such a power as seeing in any other way than by the
organ of vision really existed, as was vaunted to be pos¬
sessed by so many persons both before the prize was offered
and since, surely some one of the clairvoyants would have
come forward and established a just claim for the prize,
but as none appeared, we may conclude with safety that
both then and now no such marvellous power exists or is
developed in the human constitution.
We have now brought down the history of magnetic
somnambulism in France to a period beyond which it did
not continue to excite any considerable public interest. So
signal and repeated had been the failures on the part of
the magnetists to establish the truth of their doctrines before
the commissions of the Academy of Medicine, that the
whole subject seems to have fallen into merited contempt
and oblivion. In more recent times the exciting pheno¬
mena of spirit-rapping have superseded those of somnambu¬
lism, and spiritual media have recently too much occupied
the public attention to leave any room for those who can
boast no higher powers than those of which magnetic clair¬
voyants claim the possession.
2. Somnambulism in Great Britain.—It is stated by M.
Deleuze that Mesmer wras desirous to teach his doctrines
in England as he had done in France. We have evi¬
dence from himself that he visited England, but as to
the exact nature of his proceedings there we have no
precise information. In a letter written by him to M.
Picher-Grandchamp of Lyons, dated Paris, 19th May 1787,
he says—“I arrived lately from England, where I had
passed a month in amusing myself.” We have no other
mention of Mesmer’s ever having been in England, except
that Gorton, in his Biographical Dictionary, says that he
had lived there for some time subsequently to 1784, under
a feigned name. M. Bailly’s r*eport was translated into
English in 1785, and the impression which it produced
upon the public mind probably precluded any hope which
Mesmer might have formed of receiving a favourable recep¬
tion for his views in this country. It does not appear that
he made any attempt to propagate his doctrines in London,
or formed the acquaintance of any scientific man of eminence
on this side the English Channel. England is too rich a
field to escape spoliation, and notwdthstanding its high pre¬
tensions to sound practical sense, it is not averse to receive
for a time any scheme, however preposterous and at what¬
ever price, if it puts forth claims sufficiently high, and
advertises them widely enough. But in this country a
delusion, though it may make a great noise for a season,
and seem to flourish, soon disappears and falls into merited
oblivion. It may run like wildfire through the land for a
few months, but it is soon extinguished, leaving only smoke
and ashes behind. Still, though we may repent and be
ashamed for a time, we are soon ready to start afresh.
Chicanery and deceit do not quench our faith, disappoint¬
ment and defeat do not extinguish our courage, and pecu¬
niary loss does not damp our enterprise.
Though Mesmer himself did nothing in England, his
followers did not lose the golden opportunity of exercising
their vocation to some profit on this side the English Chan¬
nel. About 1788, animal magnetism produced a consider¬
able sensation in this country, and we are informed by Mrs
Hannah More, who was keenly alive to the danger of doc¬
trines which emanated from the French metropolis, that
Somnam¬
bulism.
Somnam
bulism in
Great Bri¬
tain.
8 0 M N A M
Somnarn- M. Maineduc, a disciple of M. D’Eslon, made L.100,000
bulism. by the practice of mesmerism in this country (Dupotet,
—v/—^ p. 319). One Holloway also made his fortune by giving
lectures, the fee for which was five guineas. The most
notable performers, however, were a Mr and Mrs de Lau-
terbourg, who resided at Hammersmith Terrace. Their
house became a great centre of attraction, and they were
reported to have cured 2000 people in six months. No
disease or infirmity seems to have been capable of resisting
their healing virtues, if we can believe their enthusiastic
admirers. The deaf and dumb, we are assured, were made to
speak by a look of benignity. No wonder that the enthusi¬
astic Mrs Pratt, of 41 Portland Place, Marylebone, announced
to the Archbishop of Canterbury that Mr and Mrs Lauter-
bourg had been rendered by God “proper recipients to
receive divine manuduction,” and proposed to his lordship
a public thanksgiving for the blessings they dispense, and
a form of prayer for their continuance. “ Let us join,” she
exclaims, “ in prayer and praise to have this most glorious
blessing continued, lest our candlestick be removed from
us, which I most ardently pray the Lord Jehovah to avert.”
The miracles of our Saviour in curing the deaf, the dumb,
the halt, the lame, and the blind, appear insignificant in
number and small in importance when placed side by side
with those of Mr and Mrs de Lauterbourg. How great our
loss that their candlestick was very speedily removed, and
that their names are not found in the English Liturgy, not
we, but Mrs Pratt, could adequately express.
Various ephemeral publications appeared in London
about the same period on the subject of animal magnetism,
written, it would appear, more in the interest of particular
manipulators than in that of science. These have all passed
into a merited oblivion. {Brit, and For. Med. Rev., April
1839, p. 312.)
The outbreak of the French Revolution, and the events
which followed that catastrophe till 1815, cutoff this coun¬
try so much from intercourse with France and other conti¬
nental countries, that the awakened interest about animal
magnetism soon died out, and was not easily resuscitated.
At the end of last century, as we have seen, Perkins’ tractors
enjoyed a brief period of notoriety, which was speedily
extinguished by the conclusive experiments of Messrs
Haygarth and Smith.
A profound ignorance or indifference seems to have pre¬
vailed in this country on the subject of animal magnetism,
or magnetic somnambulism, which is the modern phase of
that doctrine, from the period of the French Revolution
till the year 1837.
It appears that little or nothing was known in this coun¬
try of what was doing on the Continent, more especially in
Germany, in reference to this subject. Our experimenters
seem to have commenced de novo, or probably only with
the light which was derived from France in the report of
the Commission of the French Academy of Medicine,
which originated in the importunity of M. Foissac, and was
compiled by M. Husson. In 1831, M. Husson, as we have
said, read to the Royal Academy of Medicine the report of
the commission which it had appointed so long before as 1826.
The report was lithographed for the use of the members,
but never discussed or adopted. The Academy of Medi¬
cine ignored the report, but M. Foissac nevertheless accepted
it as the expressed opinion of the Academy, which it was
not. He took silence for consent. The conduct of the
Academy was certainly of a more vacillating description,
on this the second occasion of its investigation of the phe¬
nomena of animal magnetism, than it was on the first, and
through this circumstance a great impulse and encourage¬
ment were given to the study of these phenomena, as well
as increased confidence to those who had already adopted
the views as well founded.
It is to be regretted that the London experimenters were
BULISM. 431
not acquainted with the proceedings of the German magne- Somnam-
tisers, otherwise they might have avoided numerous extra- bulism.
vagances in the phenomena which they evoked, which had
already in Germany far exceeded anything that they dared to
announce here ; as well as many experiments, which placed
them in such an attitude of contradiction to their more
advanced fellow-workers as to afford convincing proof that
one or other of their theories must be false.
At the same time, although generally neglected till the
outbreak of the mesmeric mania in 1837, it would be wrong
to suppose that animal magnetism had wholly died out in
this country. We find traces of its existence, though
merely in the hands of obscure adventurers, who were re¬
solved not easily to lose sight of a system which had already
proved itself so profitable. It is chiefly at watering-places,
and in those localities which are most frequented by the
idle, the frivolous, and the fashionable, that it is found still
to linger. Dr Elliotson admits that he had been impressed
by experiments which he had seen performed at St Thomas’s
Hospital many years before he commenced his own at the
North London, but that he was prevented from prosecuting
them on account of the death of the gentleman by whom
they were made.
The advent of the Baron Dupotet de Sennevoy, whose
success as a magnetic experimentalist before the second
French commission had been more than problematical, was
the occasion of a renewed interest in the subject of animal
magnetism in this country. From the Medical Gazette of
16th September 1837 we learn that the Baron was first
introduced at the Middlesex Hospital, where, on several
successive days, and in presence of the physicians, surgeons,
and numerous visitors, he selected a few hysterical girls on
whom to try his powers, but entirely in vain. They were
scarcely even frightened, and like most of M. Berna’s
“ Vexperience etait manqueeT Some one laughed and whis¬
pered, “Send him to the North London—he’ll succeed
there.” He went to the North London Hospital, where
he instituted experiments which were concluded on the
19th September, at the instance of the medical committee
of the hospital. Although, according to the testimony of
“an eye-witness,” the experiments did not fulfil the ex¬
pectations held out (vid. Lancet, Oct. 14, 1837, p. 99),
they produced such an effect on the mind of Dr Elliotson,
professor of medicine in University College and senior
physician to the hospital, that though at first somewhat
sceptical, and totally disbelieving such phenomena as seeing
with the fingers, smelling with the stomach, &c., he was
inclined to believe in the reality of such things as sleep,
coma, and somnambulism produced by mesmerism {Lancet,
Oct. 21, 1837, p. 124). Dr Elliotson, having been so far
convinced of the reality of mesmeric phenomena, was in¬
duced to continue the experiments himself. This did not
excite surprise at first, and it was confidently expected that
his experiments would lead to a conclusive refutation of
mesmerism. This hope, however, was not realized, and it
soon became apparent that he had become a complete con¬
vert to all the most marvellous and incredible tenets of the
mesmeric faith. Time and space would fail us if we at¬
tempted to describe all the windings and turnings of his
devious path, till they led to his resignation both of his
hospital appointment and his professorial chair. W ith the
blind zeal of a convert to a new faith, he plunged into a
series of experiments and exhibitions, at which the learned,
the idle, and the noble eagerly assisted; till, urged on step
by step, with a credulity and a simplicity which never
dreamed of deceit or imposture, he arrived at the brink of
a precipice, over which he was hurled, with the ruin of
great prospects, the alienation of friends, and the exulta¬
tion of enemies, but with no word of consolation or support
from the noble and curious crowd who had previously
assisted at his exhibitions,
432
SOMNAMBULISM.
The history of the sisters O’Key, in connection with
animal magnetism and Dr Elliotson, is in our opinion one
of the most melancholy in the whole history of practical
medicine. For the particulars of it the reader may consult
the Gazette and Lancet for the years 1837-8, passim.
That the O’Keys were impostors of the first water, and
that Dr Elliotson was their unwitting dupe, there cannot
be a shadow of doubt. Into the details of the exhibitions
we cannot, nor is it necessary for us to enter. The expe¬
riments were conducted with a looseness and total absence
of the most necessary precautions for distinguishing be¬
tween phenomena which were real and those which were
pretended. In that department of the investigation which
Mr Wakley undertook to sift, the introduction of a little
method, and the scientific testing of the phenomena, at
once demonstrated the fallacy of the pretended magnetic
virtue communicated to nickel, gold, water, &c., by the
touch of the human hand. In all the experiments con¬
ducted by Dr Elliotson himself, the patients received such
manifest indications of what they were expected to do
that a very ordinary amount of acuteness was sufficient to
carry them through the ordeal with apparent success.
Some of the experiments intended to prove new and mar¬
vellous powers in the human constitution were as frivolous
as they were ridiculous. What can we think of an experi¬
ment intended to prove so marvellous a phenomena as the
transposition of the senses of vision and smell, consisting
merely of presenting, either immediately in front of the
face or with a piece of pasteboard interposed, a piece of
bread and butter which the patient’s tutored hand readily
seized, probably assisted by the smell of such an object,
which can be felt at a considerable distance ?
Though Dr Elliotson devoted himself more to experi¬
menting than theorizing, there is a tacit assumption through¬
out most of his experiments that the effects are the result
of some faculty of one organism acting upon another. The
adoption of a system, instead of the verification of the
phenomena on which a system might be established, by the
Magnetic Society of Paris, was, as we have seen, the rock
on which that body split, in spite of the energetic protest
of the Baron d’Henin. In so far as he confined himself
chiefly to the verification of phenomena, Dr Elliotson
adopted a wise course ; and though many of the pheno¬
mena he witnessed were in strict accordance with the
observations of French and German magnetisers, he evoked
others in direct opposition to these theories, and which, if
true, would have furnished direct proof against their sound-
Such experiments as the following lay the axe at
ness.
the root of all hitherto recognised systems—“ Dr Elliotson,
coming in front of the patient, causes her to magnetise
herself by desiring her to make bows to her face with one
hand.” After a few passes she fell into magnetic sleep.
Again we are told “ that Mr Wood was led to try the
effect of magnetising the reflection of Jane O’Key in a
looking-glass. Being told to look at herself in an unffamed
glass, two passes were made at her image, when she fell
into the same condition of sleep as when magnetised per¬
sonally.” Upon such inconclusive evidence no person
bent upon investigating fairly the existence of the magnetic
phenomena could for a moment place the slightest re¬
liance.
The conversation of the O’Keys was not edifying, their
sentiments were not refined, their language was not elegant,
and their prophecies were not fulfilled-. If the phenomena
exhibited by these girls in their magnetic state is a true
representation of what animal magnetism can do for us in
increasing our knowledge, in refining our manners, in im¬
proving our medical skill, and in revealing to us the
arcana of nature, it will be to the credit and advantage
of our race if it is now buried in everlasting oblivion.
. Besides Dr Elliotson, Mr Mayo, Dr Macnight, and Dr
Sigmond became converts to the magnetic doctrines in Soranam-
London. Of these Mr Mayo is the only one who, by his tmlism.
writings, has exercised an important influence on the for-
tunes of animal magnetism in this country. Possessed,
like Dr Elliotson, of many eminent qualities, both literary
and scientific, his adhesion to the cause is no unimportant
event in its history. As Dr Elliotson was practical and ex¬
perimental, so Mr Mayo brought to bear upon the subject
theorizing powers of no ordinary kind. We may form an
estimate of the length he could go theoretically in discus¬
sing the question from the following statement—“ By look¬
ing upon a mesmerisable body, you may so mesmerise it
that another mesmerisable substance laid upon it shall from
it be mesmerised sufficiently to produce decided mesmeric
effects upon patients sufficiently susceptible of this peculiar
agency” (Medical Gazette). Of the higher phenomena,
such as prevision and transference of the senses, he thinks
that “ they naturally lead to the supposition that they re¬
sult from the workings of a spiritual nature, in a certain
state of independence of those bodily organs to which it is
normally closely tied and bound, from the mind being in
part dislocated and displaced from her corporeal tenement,
holding on with misplaced attributes to unaccustomed points
and corners of the frame” [Medical Gazette, vol. xxii.,
P- 775).
This view of the effect of magnetic sleep is identical
with that which prevailed in the most ancient times as
to the effect of ordinary sleep. The soul, according to the
old theory, withdraws in sleep into the innermost recesses
of the human frame, and, in the language of Mr Mayo,
“ becomes dislocated and displaced from her corporeal tene¬
ment.” Having retired into the “ land of dreams,” the
soul was relieved from its grosser corporeal impediments,
endowed with higher powers, and could then penetrate
not merely into the past in time and the distant in space,
but could also reach forward into the vistas of futurity.
The higher phenomena, therefore, according to Mr Mayo,
are but the dreams of artificial sleep, and their revelations
convey to us information in every way analogous to that
furnished by ordinary dreams. In short, to adopt his form
of expression, they are the phenomena of a “ dislocated
soul” holding on by the corners of the frame.
After a short period of excitement (1837-8), the mes¬
meric mania subsided, and the public of London generally
became content to see with their eyes, taste with their
mouths, hear with their ears, and to use the natural means
which were provided for the acquisition of all necessary
and useful knowledge, instead of seeking for transmigrated
faculties in “ unaccustomed points” of their frame.
From this period, however, we must date the first be¬
ginnings of anything like a school of mesmerism in this
country. Though the public excitement passed away,
there remained a large number of persons who devoted
themselves heart and soul to the investigation of what
were to them new and strange doctrines; we shall find that
at intervals the public attention could still be aroused to a
lively interest in the phenomena of magnetic somnambulism.
Mr Braid, a surgeon in Manchester, was the first (in
1841) who attempted to strike out a new path, and to reform
and modify the theory in such a way that, while sufficient
to account lor all the real phenomena, it could commend
itself to the attention of men engaged in the cultivation
of the ordinary branches of science. Recognizing the exist¬
ence of a substratum of truth and facts in the pheno¬
mena usually observed at mesmeric meetings, he set about
to discover some rational key by which they could be
accounted for without shocking our understandings, or
making any demand on our powers of credulity. The
phenomenon which chiefly arrested his attention, was the
loss of voluntary motion in particular parts of the body,
which he accepted as real, and explained as followsTake
Somnam
LulisDi.
the immobility of the eyelids, for instance, “the continued
fixed stale of the patient at any object, by paralysing ner¬
vous centres in their appendages, and destroying the equili¬
brium of the nervous system, produced the phenomenon
refeired to. This explanation, as put by Mr Braid, is
singularly absurd. We have an object at rest—in equilibrio
—and we wish to explain why it is at rest. This Mr Braid
thinks he has done by stating that the fixed stare destroys
the equilibrium of the nervous system. If the equilibrium of
the nervous system is destroyed, we have not rest but
motion on this hypothesis, therefore the eyelids ought to
move, which is the very opposite of what he wished to
prove. This criticism does not affect his theory, but only
his manner of stating it. He evidently means to state that
the continued stare of the patient, by producing (not de¬
stroying) the equilibrium of the nervous system, caused the
phenomenon referred to. With his theory Mr Braid has
invented anew nomenclature; with him mesmerism becomes
hypnotism or neurhypnology. “ The sole object,” he says,
which I had in view in undertaking the experimental
investigation of animal magnetism, was to devise a simple
and satisfactory mode of demonstrating that the real cause
o the phenomena manifested was subjective or personal
and not objective or the result of any magnetic fluid oi’
force passing from the operator to the patient; and as I
have succeeded in this attempt in producing all the ordi¬
nary and useful phenomena (useful in a curative point of
view, I mean), more speedily and certainly than by the
ordinary mesmerising methods, whilst I never succeeded
in producing clairvoyance and the higher phenomena, I
thought it better to discuss the phenomena producible by
my method under a new name, and adopted the term hypno¬
tism, or nervous sleep.” The hypnotising method referred
to is described as follows by Mr Braid. He takes any
bnght object, generally his lancet-case, which he holds
ten or twelve inches above the middle of the forehead, so
as to require a slight exertion of the attention to enable the
patient to maintain a steady fixed gaze on the obiect, the
person being either comfortably seated or standing; still¬
ness is enjoined; and he is requested to engage his atten¬
tion as much as possible with the simple act of lookino-
at the ooject, and yield to the tendency to sleep which wifi
steal over him during this apparently simple process. In
the course of about three or four minutes, if the eyelids do
not close of themselves, the first two fingers of the right
hand extended and a little separated, may be quicklyfor
with a tremulous motion, carried towards the eyes so as to
cause the patient involuntarily to close the eyelids, which, if
he is highly susceptible, will either remain rigidly closed or
assume a vibratory motion, the eyes being turned up, with
m the latter case, a little of the white of the eye visible
through the partially closed lids. If the patient is not'
i^hly susceptible, this process may be required to be re-
susacentih,Tf He f°Und Sreat dlffe^nces in the
TmX Yf dferent Patients ; S0I«e being affected with
K 'vhlle,others’ after a while, became so susceptible
helipf en.tU'ely through thepower of imagination,
surh K-d ^ t,e'’ the exPectant Wea produced it in
dif“UbjectS wherl no Process whatever, whether near or
nntant, was going forward.
Franl^i!10^6 here’ ES shovving how ]ittle is known in
readilv% he ^°greSf °f Science in this country, and how
of vpar« 1SC0Ver‘es "fd6 m 0116 country are, after a lapse
rerlnt reProduced in an°ther as new discoveries, the
of Mi- BSnCecmena°f a method’ which is an exact copy
a suraiJi dS’ of Inducing a state of anaesthesia, in which
Seon to H Performed- M. Guerinan, sur-
ffter the 10uP°,tierS’ recently amputated a thigh,
by meansT^^ been ^duced to the hypnotic stale,
the root nf & bri^ sPatula held about four inches from
vol. s^°Se ’ after ab°Ut ten minutes the patient was
S O M NAME u L I S M.
433
hypnotised, and his leg was removed without the exhibi- Somnam.
non, on his part, of any symptoms of pain. Thus was the bulism.
lonour of re-discovering hypnotism claimed in France. v>—v*'-'
fh i discovery Mr Braid was one well fitted to excite
tie hostility of the various classes of mesmerists, who, how¬
ever much they differed amongst themselves, were at one
in e view that the mesmeric phenomena were the result
o an influence or power, a5 extra, which, passing from
le operator, was transmitted to the person operated on by
means of certain magic passes, fixed stares, and the like.
Jhe commission of the French Academy, in 1784, had
attempted to explain, on rational principles, the phenomena
of mesmerism as then exhibited; but these explanations,
oweyer satisfactory, wanted the convincing evidence of
expenmental demonstration. This defect has been supplied
by Mr Braid, whose experiments have amply confirmed the
views then enunciated, by his discovery of a simple method
of producing all the credible and authentic phenomena of
mesmerism. Besides the simple method described above,
there are various auxiliary means which may be employed
with success to produce the phenomena in question. It is
o advantage if the person to be operated on has witnessed
the operation on other persons. The influence of svmpathy
and imitation is thus brought into play, and increases the
susceptibility in a marked degree. The influence of direct
auricular suggestion and expectation, excited by the confi¬
dent tone and deportment of the operator, also contribute
to a successful result. Mr Braid is of opinion, that all the
mesmerising processes produce their effects from what is
essentially the same exciting cause as that which induces
hypnotic phenomena—viz., by producing a state of mental
concentration, through the attention becoming so engrossed
by watching the manoeuvres or suggestions of the operator,
as for the time to render the subject dead or indifferent to
all other sensible impressions or trains of thought. “ In
this stage of the sleep,” he remarks, “ the power of sugges¬
tion on the patient is excessive, whatever idea is suggested
to his mind, whether by the natural import of the words
spoken, or modified by the tone of voice in which they are
uttered, is instantly seized upon by the subject, and inter¬
preted in a manner to surprise many, and lead them to be¬
lieve it has been accomplished by a sort of intuition or in¬
spiration. In this way you may vary or modify the ideas
suggested in the most remarkable manner, and the patient
sees, and feels, and speaks of all as real, without the slight¬
est desire to impose upon others.”
It is easy to see, that however satisfactory and rational
this mode of explanation of some of the most remarkable
phenomena witnessed at mesmeric sittings may be, the
theory of some occult influence, odyle, volition, or by what¬
ever name it may be called, fostered by that innate love of
the marvellous so predominant in most minds, presents so
great attractions that it has ever been received with more
popular favour than the more philosophical account of the
matter given by Mr Braid.
Fie remarks, “ That there is nothing occult or specific
in the pass with the hand is manifest from this, that a
similar agitation of the air by the blast from a pair of bel¬
lows will produce precisely similar results as the like cur¬
rent of air from the wafting of the human hand, as I have
proved to the satisfaction of hundreds of intelligent indi¬
viduals.
“A pass, therefore, as a visible or sensible impression,
aids the patient in concentrating his mental attention to a
given organ or part, and thus influences its function, through
giving a special direction to a power residing within the
patient’s own frame; but it no more imparts a virtue of an
occult nature from the operator to the patient, than the
lens produces the light and heat which it makes visible and
perceptible to the senses, through concentrating the lumi¬
nous and calorific rays of the sun, and drawing them to a
3 i
434
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam- focus. Both the pass and the lens aid in concentrating and
bulism. manifesting the respective influences, but neither the ope-
* rator nor the lens is the source or origin of the power or
influence so manifested. , ,
In the experience of Mr Braid no phenomena have ma¬
nifested themselves during either the hypnotic or mesmeric
sleep which have not been in accordance with generally
admitted physiological and psychological principles. Though
the senses and mental powers may be torpified or quick¬
ened to an extraordinary degree, he has never seen any¬
thing to warrant a belief that individuals could thereby
become gifted with the power of reading through opaque
bodies, and other wonderful feats, called by the mesmerists
the higher phenomena. . . ,
The theory of Mr Braid, as has been seen, is entirely
subjective in its principles, and it is one to which the great
majority of physiologists and psychologists in this country
have given in their adhesion, and to which, indeed, many
who had not come forward as authors were previously in¬
clined. The opposite theory, however, the objective, is
one which has received no mean support, and its preten¬
sions at least deserve some attention. Besides Elliotson,
whose experiments have already been mentioned, there
are Gregory, Reichenbach, Colquhoun, and Esdaile, to
whose labours we would fail in our duty if we did not
call the attention of our readers. These authors are
all, more or less, wedded to the doctrine, that the pheno¬
mena of mesmerism are attributable to the agency of some
power or influence which passes from the operator to the
person operated on; that there exists in nature an impon¬
derable power or influence, through which all the magnetic
phenomena are excited. This influence Reichenbach de¬
signates odyle. Though its author is German, the work of
Reichenbach, through the translation of Gregory, has be¬
come British; and his views may be more conveniently dis¬
cussed in connection with the British than the German
development of mesmeric doctrines, more especially as,
according to the translator, the abstract of these views,
published by him in 1846, was more favourably received in
this country than the original work was on the continent.
It may appear, prima facie, difficult to connect the odyle
theory with that of mesmerism, but this is clearly brought
out by Dr Gregory. The mesmeric state, according to
him, is merely somnambulism artificially produced; but
Reichenbach’s discoveries show that a force or influence,
analogous to heat, electricity, and magnetism, but distinct
from all, exists in the human body, and that a large number
of persons are, more or less, sensitive to this influence.
Mesmer and others produced powerful effects by using
magnets, and other means; and this is now cleared up, by
the discovery that the new force residing in the human
body does also reside, not only in magnets, but in all other
bodies. The conclusion naturally is, according to the
translator, that these forces are identical; that there is a
fluid (or imponderable power or influence) which is not
ordinary magnetism, and which acts strongly on the sys¬
tem. This fluid is odyle. It ought to be premised, that
Reichenbach’s experiments, on which he founds his system,
were performed chiefly upon females, many of whom were
afflicted with nervous diseases of various kinds. Though
pretending to have followed the inductive method, and
claiming for his discoveries a high scientific value, it must
be confessed that there is apparent, throughout the whole
investigation, a fatal want of those precautions which are
absolutely necessary to make his conclusions worthy of
credit. The diseased imaginings of nervous females; sen¬
sations, whose truthfulness we cannot test; and statements
which are manifestly the result of ideas which have been
suggested, are not the kind of foundation on which can be
built systems which claim for themselves the accuracy of
physical research.
If these imposing investigations of Reichenbach, which Somnam.
were brought forward with all the external appearance of bulism.
scientific inquiry, are divested of these adventitious circum- v'—
stances, there will be found a residuum, the value of which
as a contribution to physical, physiological, or psychological
science, is not commensurate with the trouble required for
its elimination. If we apply to them the cross-questionings
by which Haygarth and others detected the fallacy of the
phenomena produced by Perkins’ tractors, we shall find that
the crystals and magnets of Reichenbach produce effects,
the value of which are nearly on a par with those pro¬
duced by the tractors of Perkins. Mr Braid has had the
sagacity to adopt this method in testing the truth of
Reichenbach’s experiments. He was invited to spend an
evening at a lady’s house, who was extremely susceptible
to ordinary mesmeric processes, and who wras so sensitive
to the influence of magnets that she was quite uncomfort¬
able if a magnet was near her in any room; and in the
dark she could point out any part of the room where a
magnet of very moderate power was placed, from her see¬
ing the light it produced streaming all around it. “ I had
the pleasure,” says Mr Braid, “ of sitting very near the
lady, and of enjoying a long and interesting conversation
with her and her husband (who was a most respectable and
intelligent gentleman), and no manifestation whatever took
place during the whole time, until after I had explained my
views regarding the power of an act of fixed attention,
directed to any part, in modifying the natural condition of
the part so regarded. She was requested to direct her
fixed attention to her hand, and watch the result, without
anything being done either by her husband or any one else.
She did so, and very quickly fell asleep; and the arm to
to which she had directed her attention became rigidly
cataleptic. Some time after being aroused, and when the
shades of deep twilight had set in, the most interesting
experiment was proposed, which was this,—that she should
walk round the room and find a magnet which had been
hidden behind some pictures when she was out of the
room, in order to prove to me her power of seeing its light,
and thus detecting it. She walked cautiously round the
room (wide awake, for she did not require to be asleep to
manifest this quality), her husband repeatedly urging her to
seek about and persevere until she should find it. I feel
satisfied that he had no intention of aiding her ; but from
his long silence when she approached the place where the
magnet was hid, I should myself have caught the sugges¬
tion that I was near to it, or, in nursery phraseology, that
I was then getting very hot. After she had passed it a
little she sat down on a chair, but said she could not see it
to-night, and then came up to where we were, shortly after
which we sat down to supper. The lady showed no symp¬
tom of being uncomfortable from the proximity of a mag¬
net, until requested to look out and fix her attention upon
her hand; and after being aroused all seemed right again,
until she was told that the dreaded magnet ivas hidden
somewhere in the room; and she was requested to go round
in the dark and endeavour to find it. The husband thought
her sitting down in the chair proved that she felt the in¬
fluence of the magnet, although she could not see the light
from it; but what seemed conclusive evidence to my mind,
that it was the mere idea, and not any physical influence
in the magnet which affected the lady was this,—that all
the time I had been sitting so close to her, conversing
with her and her husband, I had had a fourteen pound lift¬
ing magnet, with the armature unattached, in my side pocket
next to the lady; and that was a magnet of more than
double the power of her husband’s, and yet no visible effect
was produced by my powerful but unsuspected magnet.”
Let “ Mdlle. Maria Atzmansdorfer, daughter of a mili¬
tary medical man; Mdlle. Angelica Sturmann, daughter
of an hotel-keeper ; Friedrich Wiedlich, an invalided sol-
S O M N A M
Somnam- dier; Mdlle. Nowotny, daughter of a subaltern official;
bulism. Anka Hotmanek, a country girl, working on my property
of Schloss Heisenberg; Johann Kleiber, carpenter in my
service and all such magnetically susceptible persons,
submit to the same experimental test as that to which Mr
Braid’s female friend was subjected, and the result will not
be widely different from that which was witnessed in that
well observed case.
We cannot enter in detail upon the various experiments
of Baron Reichenbach ; but when we find that they ter¬
minate with a positive statement of the results, founded on
the assertions of the persons experimented on, without any
crucial or negative experiments by which it may be proved
that their sensations are produced by causes altogether dif¬
ferent from those to which they ascribe them, and that the
causes to which they are ascribed are such as do not in
many cases produce them ; although it may be that the
causes assigned are true causes ; yet if the tests applied
are not subjected to rigid scrutiny, and the numerous
sources of fallacy to which physico-physiological experi¬
ments are so peculiarly liable are not sufficiently attended
to, we can have little or no faith in the validity of the con¬
clusions arrived at.
The first patient experimented on by Baron Reichenbach
was Mdlle. Nowotny, who was preternaturally sensitive to
light and to the action of magnets. Reflecting that the
aurora borealis appears to be nothing else than an electric
phenomenon, caused by the magnetism of the earth, it oc¬
curred to him to try whether such an acute vision as that of
Mdlle. Nowotny might not possibly, in absolute darkness,
be able to perceive some luminous appearance in connec¬
tion with the magnet; and if such should be the case, it
seemed likely to supply the key to the explanation of the
northern lights. She was first experimented on by her
father, and she of course did see a luminous appearance so
long as the magnet was open. If other instruments had
been tried without the knowledge of the patient, and
changed from time to time, and if it had been found that she
could discriminate between the true and false magnet by
light given out by the former, and the absence of light in
the latter, the result would have been more satisfactory.
Six other females, affected with nervous diseases, were ex¬
perimented on with nearly similar results. The experi¬
ments were made in 1844, and they were followed by others
in 1845-6-7. It soon became apparent, even to the Baron
himself, that it was of the greatest importance that per¬
fectly healthy persons should be able to see the odylic
light. It is only, however, for the benefit of the sceptical
that the evidence of additional witnesses is adduced; and
he invites all those who are satisfied with the proofs already
adduced, and with the accuracy of his mode of investiga¬
tion, to pass over, if they please, the pages in which it is
recorded. Beginning with the healthy sensitives, he pro¬
ceeds progressively to the delicate, the sickly, and the
highly sensitive. This latter class we need not further
notice, as the record of the sensations of persons who are
confessedly disordered in their nervous systems will never
be accepted by scientific men as admissible evidence in
favour of any class of physical phenomena or facts. To
the first class—the healthy sensitives, which looks very
like a contradiction in terms—as it is admitted that the vast
majority of healthy persons do not perceive any of the ap¬
pearances seen by the highly sensitive, we may pay some
attention ; but when we find that the first of the so-called
healthy sensitives, who is called a young and healthy phy¬
sician, was subject to sleep-walking, we may entertain some
doubts as to what constitutes the healthy condition in the
opinion of the Baron. The multiplication of such wit¬
nesses ad infinitum, whose morbid impressions are made
the foundation on wffiich a scientific fabric is attempted to
de built, would only result in the manufacture of a rope of
BULISM. 435
sand; one witness scientifically tested is worth a thousand Somnam-
such. It happened to the Baron in the same manner as Bulism.
to Mesmer and others, that when his speculations and pre-
tended discoveries had received a certain amount of noto¬
riety, inquisitive physicians obtruded themselves upon h.m.
“ I well know,” he remarks, “ that notwithstanding all this,
people enough will be left, to whom all that I have done
will not appear enough; for there are such things as irra¬
tional doubts; there is an absurd incredulity ; and, lastly,
there is also an evil-minded scepticism. These I am un¬
able, and do not wish to refute.” In a foot-note, p. 275,
he informs us, that a small association of Vienna physicians
has lately given us a deplorable instance of these unamiable
qualities. “ These gentlemen,” he says, “ after an exami¬
nation lasting for half a year, came to the edifying result,
that Mdlle. Reichel, Kreuzer, and Nather, were merely im¬
postors and liars! I sincerely pity these gentlemen (there are
altogether not less than twenty-three of these doctors and
professors of medicine); after twenty-two sittings these
deluded men lost themselves in a monstrous labyrinth of
confusion, and arrived at the most absurd and perverted
conclusions.” In another foot-note, p. 370, the Baron re¬
pudiates the experiments of the doctors, on the standard
objection which has .been uniformly employed by mes¬
merists, where crucial experiments are made by medical
men to test the accuracy of their results,—that their pre¬
sence so disturbed the system of the sensitive, by the
powerful odylic influence emanating from their own per¬
sons, that she was unable to succeed in the experiments.
“ Under such circumstances,” exclaims the Baron, “how
could a dozen of doctors and professors expect or insist,
that an ignorant girl, driven in the midst of them, should
find her way among the confused influences acting on her
from all sides, and give clear and scientifically available
answers to questions which they themselves did not under¬
stand how to put rightly.”
Did space permit it would be easy to point out that the
Baron himself is guilty of blunders even more egregious
than those with which he charges the Vienna physicians.
With a mere show of adopting the inductive method in his
investigations, he violates its principles in every page, and
systematically neglects the precautions which it inculcates.
His plan throughout is essentially hypothetical, and his ex¬
periments are devised to prove foregone conclusions. He
imagines a system of the universe, of which the hypothetical
odyle is the sun and centre; and, unappalled by manifest
contradictions which rise at every step, he boldly advances
to its demonstration by experiments, whose flimsy and
fanciful elements are too puerile and absurd to merit our
serious consideration.
In the British and Foreign Medico-Chirurgical Review
for October 1851, there is to be found an elaborate review
of Reichenbach’s work, which those who wish fuller infor¬
mation on this subject would do well to consult. The fol¬
lowing is the estimate which the reviewer gives of the
Baron’s character as an original scientific investigator, with
which every one who studies the subject will heartily con¬
cur :—“ We find Von Reichenbach highly hypothetical;
very credulous—credulous as to the extent of his own
powers; credulous in receiving subjective for objective
phenomena; negligent in the highest degree of those pre¬
cautions which ought to have been adopted in making the
experiments, so that they should have scientific accuracy;
and incompetent from his manifest ignorance of the con¬
struction and working of his principal instruments of re¬
search—the human brain, and the senses of touch and
vision—to make the experiments at all.”
The late amiable Dr William Gregory, whose origina-.
lity, learning, and candour in chemical investigation would
have led us to expect a different judgment from him, has,
in his translation of Reichenbach’s work, accepted, without
436
Somnam¬
bulism.
SOMNAMBULISM.
question, all the theories, doctrines, and experiments of the
Baron; and in his Letters on Animal Magnetism, after¬
wards published by Dr Gregory in 1851, we find that there
is nothing too extravagant or outrageously absurd in the
pretensions of the most obvious impostors which he is not
prepared to support and defend.
In 1846 the work published by Dr Esdaile, entitled,
Mesmerism in India, and its Practical Application in
Surgery and Medicine, attracted the attention of medical
men to mesmerism, more particularly in its connection with
the state of induced anaesthesia. The facts there stated,
as to the truth of which we can entertain no reasonable
doubt, are worthy of careful attention and study. But
while we admit the facts, it is not necessary that we should
accept the author’s theory of the nature of the mesmeric
influence, or the conclusions which he draws from them.
Dr Esdaile adopts the objective hypothesis, that some
occult and powerful influence passes from the person of the
operator to that of the person operated on; he maintains
that this agent which, in passing out of the person of the
former, causes lassitude and loss of nervous energy, is
transmitted to that of the latter, and produces healthful
and beneficial effects. Nay more, that it can be incor¬
porated with other than living substances, and through
them conveyed to living beings, as by means of water,
&c. It will be seen, therefore, that Dr Esdaile discards
the rational and physiological hypothesis promulgated by
Mr Braid, by which all the credible phenomena of mes¬
merism may be explained upon purely subjective principles.
It will be found, however, that the facts and cases reported
by Dr Esdaile may be satisfactorily explained without call¬
ing to our aid any new and mysterious agent, as there is
nothing in the experience of Dr Esdaile materially new, or
widely differing from the experience of the older advocates
of the mesmeric doctrine.
Without entering into the particulars of his cases, it may
be stated that he performed seventy-three painless opera¬
tions, of an importance varying from the extraction of a
tooth, to the removal of a large tumour from a sensitive
part of the body, weighing 80 lb. He also gives a return
of eighteen medical cases, in which various cures w'ere
effected by mesmeric means. In relating his cases, Dr
Esdaile is in the habit of stating the names of the persons
who were present at his operations, in order that their ac¬
quiescence may more surely induce us to believe in the
truth of the phenomena. His plan of mesmerising is some¬
what tedious, laborious, and disgusting, inasmuch as, in ad¬
dition to the other means employed, the use of the opera¬
tor’s saliva is called into requisition, to enable him the more
easily to attain the desired end. It may be remarked, how¬
ever, that the witnesses add very little to the credibility of
the phenomena described, inasmuch as it never appears
that they made any attempt to look very narrowly into, or
scientifically to test the reality of the phenomena.
In addition to the production of a state of anaesthesia,
and the other phenomena of mesmerism, by the laborious
and exhausting method indicated, Dr Esdaile holds the
view, that the mesmeric influence is capable of being ab¬
sorbed by water, and of passing through stone walls. He
adopts the theory, that something is transmitted from the sys¬
tem of the operator to the person of the patient operated on.
“ From all I have seen,” he says, <>' I cannot but believe that there
ia an influence of some kind v/hich passes from one person into
another, when one of two persons is mesmerised in the way I have
described ; that, in fact, there is a virtual transfusion of some vital
agent from the one body into the other. The wonderful subtlety,
as well as the effects of this power, lead us to suspect that it is a
nervous product; and may it not be the nervous energy passing off
by the organs of sense, and even for a short time going beyond the
surface of the body, the lungs meanwhile, and periphery of the body,
retaining their vital properties, and remaining under the direction
of the will ? Every time we move a finger, it is by transmitting
something under the control of the will to the end of the fingers, Somnara-
and why should it not go farther? Supposing this to be possible, bulism.
and that this nervous emanation can be directed by one person
upon another, then I would venture to conjecture that, being a
nervous product, it is accepted by the nerves of sense, on coming
into contact with them in a continuous well sustained stream, and
is transmitted by them to the brain, thereby adding to, rather than
subtracting from the nervous secretions of the brain, which it is
their duty to carry off as soon as formed. If the sensorial secre¬
tions are not conveyed away by the nerves of sense and volition,
and the exercise of the perceptive and intellectual organs, the brain
becomes torpid and oppressed. In like manner the transmission of
foreign nervous matter might overwhelm the brain, or a mere
stoppage of its own fluids might steep it in a sleepy drench, and the
functions of the sensorium would not be restored until the usual
outlet for its energies were re-established.”
Dr Esdaile is solicitous, with respect to his various ex¬
periments, to inform us that numerous witnesses, such as Mr
Russell the judge, Mr Money the collector, and Budden
Chunder Chowdaree the sub-assistant surgeon, attest the
truth of the phenomena in each case. For some months he
confined his public experiments to purely professional sub¬
jects, but he was at length requested, from a high quarter, to
gratify some of the inhabitants of Government House with
an especial mesmeric exhibition. It was, therefore, gene¬
rally made known that all the curious might be gratified,
for the first and last time, on the 29th July. The exhibi¬
tion took place in due course, and Dr Esdaile professes to
have been heartily ashamed of it, as he ought to be, though
it affords the culminating point in the evidence in favour of
his peculiar views. According to the “ Mesmeric Visitor,”
whose letter was published in The Englishman of 30th
July 1845, a somewhat ludicrous but entertaining exhibi¬
tion took place, in which patients were mesmerised through
walls, and at long distances from the operator. The effects
of the “sleeping water,” or the “veritable eau merveil-
leuse,” were tried on eight patients, of whom four were
rendered cataleptic, and several converted into somnam¬
bulists.
It would almost appear that Dr Esdaile had a sus¬
picion that his readers might not have sufficient faith in the
veracity of his own testimony as to the phenomena which
he witnessed, and he is thus constantly surrounding him¬
self with respectable witnesses of his proceedings, whose
declarations he publishes in his work. Now, the real diffi¬
culty is not in the testimony, for with that we are not dis¬
posed to find much fault: it lies rather in the theory or
mode of accounting for the phenomena. The phenomena,
indeed, are palpable, have been repeated a thousand times,
and have been produced by a great variety of means or
modes of operation. The grand controversy has been, and
ever will be, What is the causal relation that underlies the
external phenomena? The baquets, magnets, crystals,
passes, inunctions of saliva, &c., are the apparent antece¬
dents of the remarkable phenomena which follow. The
question comes to be, does any virtue or causative power
reside in these inanimate objects ; or are they but the in¬
struments by which a more subtle influence is transmitted
from the person who wields them ? or, again, are they but
the occasion through which the phenomena are developed
by a purely subjective process in the persons operated on ?
These questions receive very various answers from different
” individuals, and from the same individuals at different periods
of their career. Thus, Mesmer at first attributed the phe¬
nomena to the power of mineral magnets. This view he
afterwards abandoned, and ascribed them to a power resid¬
ing in his own person. At a later period it was the baquets
or tubs in which the mysterious power resided.
In the quotation given above there is developed the
theory of Dr Esdaile, which, it cannot be denied, is at least
a very remarkable one. It is not likely, however, to re¬
ceive the sanction of physiologists until some very consider¬
able changes have been made in that branch of science.
S 0 M N A M
3ffinam- He advances his hypothesis by cautious steps. First,//e
t,uiijtn. cannot but believe that there is au influence ot some kind
~rJ that passes from one person into another ; that, in fact,
there is a natural transfusion of some vital agent from the
one body into the other. If he had seen the same pheno¬
mena produced in circumstances in which such a trans¬
fusion was impossible, as had been so often shown by Mr
Braid and others, he would have been compelled to admit
that, in some cases, and probably in all, it was not neces¬
sary. Second, he suspects, from the wonderful subtlety, as
well as the effects of this power, that it is a nervous product;
and, third, asks if it may not be the nervous energy pass¬
ing off by the organs of sense, and even for a short time
going beyond the surface of the body. He afterwards
speaks of the sensorial secretions being conveyed away by
the nerves of sense and volition, and of the fluids of the
brain steeping that organ in a sleepy drench. In the
author’s experiments this fluid or secretion is found, after
leaving the brain, to be absorbed by water, to pass through
walls, and to be conveyed through the air long distances.
It is by attention that this secretion is impelled or driven
forward till it strikes down its victim. Dr Esdaile’s theory
is one so utterly fanciful, and founded on opinions so com¬
pletely destitute of any element of truth or rational proba¬
bility, that it scarcely merits the attention which we have
given to it. His views of the nature and functions of the
brain and nervous system are such as may amuse and
gratify the taste of the unenlightened multitude, but they
are such as cannot be entertained for a moment by any one
at all well acquainted with cerebral physiology. Such be¬
ing Dr Esdaile’s theory of mesmerism, the following are the
general conclusions at which he has arrived from the facts
detailed in his work :—
“ That mesmerism is a natural power of the human body, and that
it affects directly the nervous and muscular systems.
“ That in the mesmeric trance the most severe and protracted
surgical operations can be performed without the patient’s being
sensible of pain.
“ That spasms and nervous pains often disappear before the
mesmeric trance.
“ That it gives us a complete command of the muscular system,
and is therefore of great service in restoring contracted limbs.
“ That the chronic administration of mesmerism often acts as a
useful stimulant in functional debility of the nerves.
“ That as sleep and the absence of all pain is the best condition
of the system for subduing inflammation, the mesmeric trance will
probably be found to be a powerful remedy in local inflammation.
“ That the imagination has nothing to do with the first physical
impression made on the system by mesmerism as practised by me.
“ That it is not necessary for the eyes to be open; I always shut
them as a source of distraction ; and blind men are as readily mes¬
merised as others.
“ That water can be charged with the mesmeric fluid, and has
a powerful effect on the system when it has been previously af¬
fected.
“ That the mesmeric influence can be transmitted through the air
to a considerable distance, and even pass through dense materials.’’
Though “ clairvoyance,” or the transference of the senses,
had not fallen under his observation, Dr Esdaile speaks
of it in the appendix of his book as a thing of probable oc¬
currence. Like Dr Gregory, he has little hesitation in
accepting it without any critical examination of the pheno¬
mena and of the evidence on which it rests. He speaks
ol it as “ one of the wonders of nature,” and “ a great rarity
in art.” After briefly alluding to some of the more re¬
markable cases of natural mesmeric clairvoyance collected
by Mr Colquhoun, he concludes that the evidence in favour
of the transference of the senses is of the «nost conclusive
kind.
The attention of the British public was directed to the
subject of mesmerism pretty frequently during the twelve
years that elapsed from 1839 to 1851. Except for a
short period at the end of last century, this was the only
time when the phenomena of mesmerism, somnambulism,
B U L I S M. 437
hypnotism, &c., obtained any considerable attention in Somnam-
these islands. When the nature of the subject is con- bullsm-
sidered, it is not surprising to find that many assumed to
themselves the privilege of expounding the doctrines and
exhibiting the practices of this mysterious science who were
ill qualified for the task. Itinerant lecturers appeared in
all the cities and villages of the empire, who propounded
their absurd theories, and operated upon nervous females,
or upon boys and girls selected from their admiring au¬
diences.
A class of persons thus sprung up who professed to be
able to exhibit in their own persons all the wonderful pheno¬
mena of clairvoyance, pre-vision, &c. This class of persons
was usually employed by lecturers, who produced them at
mesmeric meetings, in order to show the higher phenomena
of the art, which are altogether beyond the power of mere
novices. It is only in rare and favoured cases that the
higher clairvoyant faculties are developed. Out of a hun¬
dred persons who may be able to exhibit the more ordinary
phenomena of somnambulism, there may not be one who
possesses the qualities necessary in a prophetic and clair¬
voyant somnambulist. They are not to be looked for, says
Dr Esdaile, as a matter of course in persons under the in¬
fluence of mesmerism.
In Germany great notoriety was obtained by some very
remarkable persons of this kind, whose clairvoyant powers
were of the highest orders. There were also some in this
country who attained to some celebrity ; and if the extraor¬
dinary nature of their pretensions had not attracted the at¬
tention,and been submitted to the scrutinyof able and distin¬
guished men of science—if we knew nothing more of them
and their performances than what was written and spoken
of them by their friends and admirers, we would be com¬
pelled either to accept as true what they pretended to be
able to perform, or denounce them as impostors, from the
inherent incredibility of their pretensions. It happens, how¬
ever, fortunately, that we are not left in this predicament.
In the Illustrations of Modern Mesmerism, from Personal
Observation, published by Dr (the late Sir John) Forbes
in 1845, we have in small compass a complete exposure of
the pretended clairvoyant powers of some ot the most noto¬
rious persons of this class. In the preface, he states that
he only professes, by a simple narrative of facts, to illustrate
the actual pretensions and performances of the mesmerists
of the present day, and to show on what sandy foundations
the popular belief in their marvels rests. He expresses
the modest hope that what is contained in this little book
may teach a useful lesson to those numerous unscientific
persons who are accustomed to attend mesmeric exhibi¬
tions, public or private, from motives of rational curiosity,
or with the commendable object of investigating what seem
important truths. He believes that such persons must now
feel convinced that no reliance whatever is to be placed on
the results presented at such exhibitions as evidencing the
truth and powers of mesmerism.
He found that it was impossible for the ordinary visitor
at these exhibitions to discriminate the true from the false,
and that the coarsest juggling might pass with the trusting
spectator, seated at a distance from the scene ol action, for
mysterious and awful truths. Mesmerism or clairvoyance
may be true or false, and he professes to be ready to be¬
lieve them on obtaining sufficient proof of their reality.
If, however, we find the most eminent, and apparently the
most trustworthy of the clairvoyants, not only uniformly
unsuccessful when the necessary precautions are taken to
test their powers, but actually detected, and confessing
with shame that they have been guilty of the grossest im¬
posture and deceit—where are we to look for the means
of establishing the truths of this mysterious science? If
we were to believe a fiftieth part of the pretensions put
forth ip the works and lectures of professipnal mesmerists,
438
Somnam¬
bulism.
SOMNAMBULISM.
it would be the easiest matter in the world to carry off the
prizes offered to any one who could read writing contained
in an envelope so secured that it could not be read in the
ordinary way. If it is an easy matter to see what is going
on in the arctic regions, it cannot surely be difhcult to see
what is contained in a deal-box.
Sir John Forbes’s first series of illustrations refers to
Alexis, one of the most noted clairvoyants of the day. We
cannot enter upon the details of the experiments, but must
restrict ourselves to the statement of the following conclu¬
sions, which must be admitted to be just by any one who
peruses the statements of what took place at the first ex¬
hibition :—■
1. That the whole proceeding bore the complexion of trickery,
or at all events that it wanted entirely the precision requisite in
scientific inquiries.
2. That the total amount of positive failures and positive blun¬
ders greatly exceeds that of performances having even a colour or
slight degree of success.
3. That the failures occurred in cases where the circumstances
were such as to exclude collusion and the exercise of ordinary
vision.
4. That all the instances of success occurred when circumstances
allowed of collusion or ordinary vision.
5. That in all the cases of success, such collusion or vision was
either proved or rendered extremely probable.
6. That there was not one single unequivocal example of what
is called clairvoyance.
7. That, consequently, this exhibition not only affords not one
tittle of evidence in favour of the existence of this faculty in the
man Alexis, but presents extremely strong grounds for believing
that the pretended power in him is feigned, and that he is conse¬
quently an impostor.
Even such cases as this do not make Sir John Forbes an
utter disbeliever in mesmerism. The positive proofs of
trickery and collusion on the part of its professors, he
admits, afford no sound reason for declaring it to be false.
If it appears, however, that in no case whatever, where
clairvoyance is subjected to scientific scrutiny, it is able to
establish its pretensions, we shall be justified in coming to
the conclusion, that it is nothing more than a gigantic
swindle, and that its professors are nothing more than arrant
impostors.
At the second exhibition Alexis was not more success¬
ful than at the first. The whole performance was a series
of blunders and unsuccessful guesses.
“ Almost all the published records of mesmeric wonders,”
remarks Sir John Forbes, “ and all those I ever heard
narrated are utterly valueless, from being defective in
exact and minute details. If the proceedings of Alexis,
and a few more of the so-called clear-seers were followed
up for a certain time in the close manner adopted on these
two occasions, we should speedily come to positive conclu¬
sions respecting the truth or falsehood of these most won¬
derful wonders.”
The second series of illustrations referred,—
1. To Adolphe, brother of Alexis. When his eyes were careles
bandaged, he could play wonderfully well for a man who
not see, and rather badly for a man who did. When the band
was more carefully applied by Dr Sharpey, and cotton placed
the side of the nose, he could see nothing; as to boxes and sea
envelopes he could make nothing of them. The failure, theref
in this case was as signal as it was in that of Alexis.
— To Mr Vernon’s lady somnambulist, who, besides being e
to read words enclosed in opaque boxes, had great power in di
nosing diseases. Two boxes and a spectacle-case, each contain
words, were presented to her, and she selected the spectacle-cs
ut she totally failed, notwithstanding much guessing and “ pir
mg, to approximate even to the right words. It was her ha
w en she tailed, to announce a day when she would be able to r
'i1 oiCerta^nt^’ ^avmg failed on this occasion, she announ
ie " st, June- On this day she was again put to the trial,
was again completely unsuccessful. Her diagnostic powers v
6 a test.5 a patient was submitted to her who wa
goo health, except in so far as he had varicose veins of the 1
\en though her attention was directed to the surface of the t
for the seat of this disease, she failed to discover it, and announced Somnam
a variety of diseases, such as weakness of stomach, palpitation, &c.; bulism
and on being asked what would cure the diseases, she, as in duty v
bound, declared that mesmerism would do him good. . "
3. To Fraulein von Gdnnern, who announced her arrival in Lon¬
don in the spring of 1845, and her intention to examine and pre¬
scribe (mesmerically) for patients either at her own or the patients’
houses—the fee for the former being three guineas, and for the
latter six. Sir John Forbes was invited by her brother to witness
her powers. He himself became the patient, and she declared
that he laboured under two diseases, which the doctor declares he
is thankful to say existed altogether in his fair physician’s imagi¬
nation. Her anatomy was not more accurate, being an embodying
of the vulgar notions of the animal structure. A lady who con¬
sulted her was informed that she was pregnant, and that the pla¬
centa was placed in an abnormal position, but that in considera¬
tion of another fee she would change the mal-position of the pla¬
centa, and avert the impending danger.
The following are the general conclusions deduced from
the foregoing experiments :—
1. That some of the exhibitions bear the open and unmistakable
impression of imposture.
2. That in all cases, wherever there resulted any positive suc¬
cess, the fact can be accounted for on ordinary principles, without
the aid of mesmerism.
3. That all the instances of success occurred when there was at
least a possibility of succeeding by the ordinary exercise of the
senses in their normal state.
4. That when care was taken to render the ordinary operation
of the senses impossible, failure invariably resulted.
5. That the trials failed utterly in proving the possession of
clairvoyance by any of the parties submitted to examination.
6. That no proof was afforded that these parties were really in
any special abnormal condition, such as is known by the name of
somnambulism.
7. That, on the contrary, the evidence adduced renders it ex¬
tremely probable that the apparent abnormal condition was feigned,
and that these persons were consequently impostors.
The third series contains the remarkable case of George
Goble, a lawyer’s clerk, who had succeeded in making his
employer believe in his clairvoyant powers, and who was
lauded in mesmeric periodicals as one who possessed great
candour in confessing his inability to solve any difficulty
that occurred to him, who did not guess at an answer if he
did not really perceive the object, and who had never
failed in a single instance. Invited by his master to test
this boy’s powers, Sir John Forbes undertook the task.
In the first experiment on the first day, a paper, on which
was written the word “country,” was folded in brown paper,
sealed and put in a card-case, which was not secured in any
way. George Goble tumbled the case about, pressed it
against his forehead, put it under a pillow, placing both hands
under the pillow at the same time, and after wasting much
time in these manoeuvres, in a sudden fit of fury he opened
the card-case, announced the correct word, and tore the
paper. From what occurred in subsequent experiments, it
appeared that George Goble had, during his manipulations
under the pillow, broken the seals and read the words in the
ordinary way; and the sudden fury was simulated in order
that his deceit might not be exposed.
In the second experiment the same card-case was em¬
ployed, and the word “ fold” was written on a piece of
paper, which was folded into a flattened parallelogram, and
placed in the case. After repeating the same manoeuvres,
he announced that the word was “Fould.” When the
box was opened, the shape of the paper was entirely
changed; it was now perfectly round, rolled on itself like a
common paper-match. There can be no doubt that George
Goble opened the case, read the word in the usual way,
though not quite correctly, rolled up the paper, and returned
it in that condition, little suspecting the trap that was laid
for him.
In the third experiment, the additional precaution was
taken to bind the card-case with twine and seal it, and the
result was that George Goble admitted that he could not
nnam-
ilism.
SOMNAMBULISM.
439
see into the box. His excuse was, that the colour of the
paper was changed.
In the fourth experiment the required colour was adopted,
and the same precautions taken, with a similar result. On
the second day Sir John Forbes was assisted by Dr Sharpey
and Professor Graham. They took small boxes of wood
sealed merely. In the first experiment George Goble failed
to discover the word; he guessed it to be £< har” or “ hart'.'
The seal was found perfect, and the word was “ insane.”
In the next experiment he announced the correct word
as “ royal,” and made a desperate effort to open the box, but
was prevented, and the seal was found broken, and the
result was declared to be null.
In the third experiment, the boxes were tied with tape
and sealed. After some manoeuvre he wrote the letters
“ cas” twice over ; and then, after a little longer silence, he
suddenly opened his eyes and was declared to be awake.
The box contained the figures “ 1787.”
Invited a third time to test the powers of George Goble,
the ingenuity of Dr Sharpey completely exposed his
roguery. Dr Sharpey prepared a card-case in the following
way:—He took a card which exactly filled the case, and
pasted on one side the word to be read; on the end of the
opposite side he affixed a small ledge exactly filling up the
space between the card and the opposite side of the case.
The card being placed in the case, he piled upon the ledge
a series of long and narrow slips of cork, which filled up
the unoccupied space ; by this arrangement the withdrawal
of the card would unavoidably scatter the slips of cork,
which could not be replaced.
In the first experiment a box was employed with the lid
screwed down, and the screw concealed by wax. The
word contained was “ Exhibition,” but being unable to
open the box, he, nevertheless, affirmed positively that he
saw the letters O U S. This was not merely a guess, but
an egregious failure.
In the second experiment Dr Sharpey’s ingeniously
planned card-case was luckily selected by George Goble; but
in order to make assurance doubly sure, he himself proposed
that it should be tied. Nothing was said about sealing.
He tied it himself, and the plan of the knot was carefully
noted. Poor George Goble little dreaming of the trap that
was laid for him, proceeded with great confidence to go
through the usual manipulation. At one stage of the pro¬
ceeding the box was seen without the ligature. Afterwards
he buried his face in the pillow, and was observed repeatedly
putting his fingers to his mouth as if placing something in it.
At the same time fragments were seen falling on the floor,
which turned out to be cork. There was a hiatus valde de-
flendus in the sofa, through which they had fallen. George
Goble made a last effort to deceive by exposing the card-
case still tied by the tape; but his roguery was detected,
and slips of cork were forced out of his hands and mouth.
His magnetism now deserted him, and he awoke up in the
most natural manner imaginable. He threw himself on his
knees on the ground, and in an agony of shame and terror
confessed his roguery, and implored foregiveness, asserting
that this vras his first offence. On examining the card-case
the tape was found crumpled, the plan of the knot was
changed, the pieces of cork were displaced, and many of
them were found wanting. “ It was fated,” says Sir John
Forbes, “ that George Goble’s fame as a great seer was here
to terminate ; he had fought his last fight; he had seen his
last sight among honest men; and though I shall not be at
all surprised to find him again on the boards with his old
itinerant masters (for he is really a clever though a some¬
what clumsy rogue), it is improbable—and doubtless he felt
this that he can ever be again countenanced by any
respectable mesmerist, however credulous.”
Notwithstanding this signal failure and detection of George
Goble, his too credulous master again invited Sir John Forbes
to investigate his powers of clairvoyance. It appeared that
after his tormentors left him on the last occasion, he made
believe that he was not awake at all, and was afterwards
demesmerised by his master in the due form. “ He awoke,”
says his master, “ in an agony of tears, quite unconscious
of what had passed, and remains so at this moment!”
In order to give him a last chance to retrieve his laurels,
Sir John Forbes left in the possession of George Goble’s
employer a small sealed box, containing a word printed in
large type, on the understanding that he would renew his
investigations whenever the box w^as returned unopened,
with the inclosed word written on the outside.
George Goble was prevailed on by his master, though
with difficulty, to try his skill again, and in about three
minutes he said that the word was “ Impelments.” “ I feel
great confidence,” writes his master, “ from his manner of
doing it, that he has read it rightly: he named it readily,
first the whole word, then letter by letter.” Is it neces¬
sary to say that George Goble was again wrong ? The
word was “ Objections.”
The fourth series of illustrations refers to Miss Mar-
tineau’s I. This person, an humble domestic, was, accord¬
ing to Miss M., an accomplished clairvoyant. I.’s cousin
was an English mariner, who suffered shipwreck near Hull;
and in a mesmeric meeting, I. is described by Miss M. as
having given a true, full, and particular account of the cir¬
cumstances of the wreck, without having any means of
acquiring a knowledge of them in the usual way.
From the inquiries instituted by Sir John Forbes, it is
proved demonstratively that I. was fully acquainted with
all the particulars before the meeting took place ; and that
her mesmeric revelations, which look so wonderful as re¬
lated by Miss M. in the Athenceum, are but the rehearsal
of pieces of intelligence with which I. had become fully
acquainted in the kitchen, before she ascended to announce
them mesmerically in the seance held in the parlour.
We would not have referred at so great a length to these
experiments had it not been that they present the best
model with which we are acquainted of the means of ex¬
posing the charlatanry and deceit which are so often em¬
ployed, to obtain notice, by those who adopt the views of
transcendental somnambulism. The proceedings of Sir
John Forbes, in which he was so ably assisted by Dr
Sharpey and Professor Graham, stand out in bold contrast
with those of the members of the second French Commis¬
sion of 1825, who, if they had exhibited even a portion of the
sound sense and firmness of Sir John Forbes and his coad-
Somnam-
bulism.
jutors, would have given out a more certain sound than
they were able to do in the Report which they presented
to the Academy.
It has fallen chiefly to medical men to investigate the
pretensions of the various systems of animal magnetism and
somnambulism; and, as has been seen in the foregoing
pages, their decisions have, for the most part, been adverse,
and to such an extent as fatally to damage the claims of
the higher phenomena to credit and acceptance among
scientific men; and the consequence has been, that the
believers in clairvoyance, and the cultivators of mesmerism
generally, are uniformly discourteous, and persistently hos¬
tile to the medical profession. Narrow-mindedness, bigotry,
prejudice, ignorance, unreasonableness, and many other
such qualities, are ascribed to its members, though it were
easy to show that, on all occasions, when medical men have
been forced to deal with the subject, they have so often
exhibited such a spirit of forbearance, of leniency, and of
tenderness towards the disciples of Mesmer, Puysegur,
Reichenbach,, &c., while investigating their doctrines and
practices, as to expose themselves to the animadversion of
the less tolerant members of their own profession. It is
to be regretted that such men as Drs Esdaile and Gregory
should so far forget themselves as to join in the cry against
440
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam- the profession of which they are members, for no other
buhsm. reason than this, that it cannot see with their eyes, and hear
with their ears; when, according to their views, it might as
well have no such organs at all, as they find that men can
see farther, and hear clearer, without either eyes or ears,
than those who possess these usually considered necessary
and useful organs.
We must now briefly allude to the bearing which mes¬
merism has upon phrenology, a subject which has given rise
to much controversy, or the so-called phenomena o{'Phreno-
mesmerism. In 1842 some astounding announcements were
made by Dr Buchanan, of Louisville, U.S., and Mr John B.
W. S. Gardner, of Roche Court, Hants, two phrenologists
acting independently of, and, it is said, unknown to each
other, and whose observations are reported to have led to
the same result. According to these gentlemen, it is pos¬
sible to excite or suspend the action of any cerebral or<>an
(phrenological) by means of animal magnetism directed
to the part of the head where the organ is situated; and
numerous cases are given in illustration of the alleged fact.
Dr Buchanan is characterised by the American papers as a
gentleman of learning and experience; and we understand
that Mr Gardner also, though not a medical man, is able,
honouiable, and well informed. The averments of the
latter are corroborated by Dr W. C. Engledue, of Ports¬
mouth ; and Dr Elliotson has brought the subject under the
notice of the London Phrenological Society.” Such is the
announcement of the origin of phreno-mesmerism, qr mes-
mero-phrenology, which appeared in the Phrenological
Journal, No. 70, p. 188. Dr Engledue, in his introductory
address to the Phrenological Association of London, claims
the discovery of the magnetic excitation of cerebration for
his friends, Messrs Mansford and Gardner. The modus
operandi, or method of exhibiting the phenomena, is, after
placing the patient under the influence of mesmerism, to
aPPlV the finger to one or other of the phrenological organs,
when the organ touched is liberated from the mesmeric
fiance, and at once called into lively action. This happy
discovery opened up a wide field of interesting research and
amusement for the cultivators of the now amalgamated
sciences. It was expected that phrenology would be a
great gainer by her union with mesmerism. Besides
affording powerful evidence in favour of recognised organs,
several new organs had already been discovered. Dr
Engledue waxes eloquent over the future of this astounding
discovery, and adduces it as a support of his view, “ that
cerebration is the function of the brain; one of the mani¬
festations of animal life, resulting from a certain peculiar
combination of matter; that it is not peculiar to man, but
is exhibited, in a greater or less degree, by all the grada¬
tions of animal life.” “ Save me from my friends,” became
the cry of more sober-minded phrenologists, when the sub¬
ject of the union of mesmerism and phrenology came to be
discussed. Mr Churchill took the view, that phrenology
had enough to do to maintain its own character with a pre¬
judiced public, and ought to say to mesmerism, as one lady
of rank said to another, whose reputation was more than
doubtful, “ Madam, I cannot afford to be seen in your com¬
pany. My own character is barely sufficient for my own
wants ; it is not enough for us both.” The addition of Dr
ng edue s “ Cerebration” to their company was not likely
«°i .c<?ntrib^te anything to sustain the slender reputation
Mh a0?!6886111? attached to both.
“ TU 1 Hinson read a paper before the same society on
cording T0'P-lren0*°^tlle ^acts °f which doctrine, ac-
r>pr«nnf r Um, c.onsist chiefly in the power of throwing
suscentihii;? P?cullar constitution, with regard to nervous
condition nf’ lnt<? ? State of somnambulism, and in such
organs at rviir^"8.*.the di'!;erent <:erebral
following description of tMs°new^doctr[ne^—-S ‘0 ^ ^
“ There are several ways in which this may he effected, depend- Somnnn,
ing much on the peculiarities of the individual case; for the effects bur
of mesmerism, of course, like all other effects, though traceable to 1Sm'
general laws, are yet modified according to the conditions of the
particular instance. One case will only resemble sleep, another
case will appear a completely altered state of existence; in one case
you may have attraction to the mesmeriser, which in another in¬
stance may be wanting ; one patient may exhibit clairvoyance, and
not ultra-vision ; the next ultra-vision, and not clairvoyance •'and
so on with regard to all the other phenomena. But, nevertheless
there is a general uniformity running through the whole; the cases’
may be classified, and many of the most essential cond’itions ob¬
served. But it is not necessary to explain further on this head • it
is sufficient if I describe the general bearing on the subject, and my
individual conviction of the fact, not so much with the idea of con¬
vincing, as of inducing others to follow out the inquiry for them¬
selves. In ordinary cases there are several methods of exciting the
organs, all of which I have practised with success. You may touch
or pass upon the organs, and observe the natural language which
may be exhibited, together with the explanations which may accom¬
pany this ; or you may engage the patients in conversation, by which
means you may lead the mind at will; they will follow with their
hand pressing on the excited part, and they will press the more
firmly according to the degree of excitement in the organ; cover¬
ing one or several, and taking the other hand, if they are not able
to reach to a distant part excited in combination. This they will
often do of themselves; or, if even induced to do so, may continue
the habit. A third method is, to touch an organ, and ask for an
explanation of the power which is manifested there, or you may
picture any particular sense, and request to be shown where such
is felt to be located, or require the analysis of any sensation, and
by what combination it is produced, or if it be a simple power. In
some cases you may demesmerise organs, and thus bring them into
action; or you may paralyze any particular power which maybe
acting. Music is another means which may be used; and many
other methods of inquiry will, doubtless, suggest themselves to those
engaged in these experiments. If the organs are much excited,
they will no longer manifest their functions with any distinctness
and energy; the patient will complain of headache, and a strained
sensation in those parts, and a desire to rest. You may excite the
organs only on one side of the brain ; and when they are becoming
confused, you may continue the same feelings on the other side with
renewed energy, just as you raise one arm, and then raise the other.
^ ou roay lea,ve the patient in a talking dream, and observe how
thought suggests thought, and feeling connects with feeling; how
the organs become fatigued, and others become excited for relief,
just as we change from one constrained position to another, perhaps’
the opposite, for relief. You may watch the effect of any single
organ, and how it is modified when acting in combination.” 
(Phrenolog. Mag., No. 70, p. 326.)
Both in this country and in America, where this new
system of mesmerism and phrenology combined seems to
have had a simultaneous origin, experiments and lectures,
demonstrating the most remarkable phenomena, soon caused
phreno-mesmerism to attract a considerable share of atten¬
tion. By one party of phrenologists the union of the two
systems was hailed with delight, as likely to shed a new
flood of light upon their favourite system, while by another
it was repudiated as a source of weakness. The advanced
opinions of such men as Dr Engledue and Mr Atkinson
weie regarded with alarm by more cautious and prudent
phrenologists, some of whom, considering phrenology to
be not inconsistent with Christianity, separated themselves
• • Paren*' association, and formed themselves into a
Christian phrenological association.”
Mi George Combe suggested a source of fallacy, which
applies both to the magnetical experiments of Reichenbach
and those of the phreno-mesmerists. If, as is pretended, a
magnetiser, by a mere act of the will, can command the
thoughts and feelings of the magnetised, without actually
touching or approaching his person, may not the manifesta¬
tions proceed from these acts of volition, and not from
physical excitement through touch of each particular organ ?
If so, the proof of the situation of the organs, supposed to
be afforded by phreno-mesmeric experiments, fails. Dr
Elliotson s answer to this objection is, that though the will
of the operator may be influential, yet this is only one
source of power; he had never been able to produce any
SOMNAMBULISM.
Soranam- effect by mere willing; that in all cases the organs had been
bulism. excited by the fingers even when his mind was occupied
with other matters. It i$ difficult to understand how, even
when otherwise occupied, he could direct his finger to an
organ without a very decided act of volition. It is worthy
of remark how readily the ground is shifted when any real
difficulty or palpable inconsistency is stated. What at one
time is insisted upon as an essential and necessary part of
the system, is at another, when its presence is inconvenient,
quietly set aside and ignored. Principles are advanced and
laws laid down, which are being constantly trampled upon,
or forced upon our attention, according as the exigency of
the case demands.
In connection with phreno-mesmerism a periodical,
called the Phreno-Magnet, started into a brief existence.
“ Phreno-magnetic societies” were formed, and all the usual
methods of agitation and promotion followed when any new
delusion has taken possession of the popular mind.
Mr Colquhoun, whose labours to advance the cause of
animal magnetism in this country were second to none, re¬
garded the union of phrenology and mesmerism with alarm,
and in a pamphlet entitled The Fallacy of Phreno-Mag¬
netism Detected and Exposed, denounced it as “ a bastard
science—the hybrid offspring of a most unnatural union of
phrenology with animal magnetism.” Mr Colquhoun ad¬
vocates the principle, that in certain states of the magnetic
sleep the patient is placed completely under the arbitrary
control of the magnetiser, and is entirely directed by his
will, that the minds of the two are in such close rapport,
that in the latter, for the time, it may be said the former
lives, moves, and has being; so that if this be so, the whole
paraphernalia of organs necessarily falls to pieces. Mr
Colquhoun’s argument is but an expansion of the source of
fallacy suggested by Mr Combe.
In 1843 The Zoist, a Journal of Cerebral Physiology
and Mesmerism, and their applications to Human Welfare,
was started under the auspices of Drs Engledue, Elliotson,
and others. This journal existed for several years, and
contains numerous articles on animal magnetism, and re¬
cords of cases of mesmerism, and advocated the doctrine
of materialism and necessity. Through its pages, and those
of the Phrenological Journal, there may be found notices
of what was being done in reference to phreno-mesmerism.
1 he new doctrine does not appear to have taken very deep
root, and the public exhibition of its phenomena seems to
have had no greater or more useful result than to afford a
new source of amusement.
It was in the year 1851 that the “ mesmeric mania,” as
it has been called, reached its climax in this country. The
temporary excitement, however, soon subsided, and from
that time to the present the whole subject seems to have
been consigned to oblivion and neglect, both in this and
other countries. Electro-biology was the new name invented
by Dr Darling at the time referred to, and imported into
this country from America; and under this designation the
same phenomena, and a mode of producing them almost
identical with that which Mr Braid had discovered many
years before, were brought into notice into this country. A
disc of metal placed in the left hand, and intently gazed
upon for a quarter of an hour in complete silence, sufficed
to put boys and girls, as well as adults of a weak constitu¬
tion, into that peculiar state in which voluntary motion is
suspended, the organs of sense and sensation are disturbed,
and the brain and intellectual faculties are temporarily
placed under subjection to the will of the operator. Mr
Lewis, another American mesmerist, was contented to
follow the older methods, and was able, by means of the
system of passes and gazing, to produce even more striking
phenomena than those which were ascribed to electro¬
biology. "When reduced to the electro-biological state, the
patient cannot move if at rest, or cease moving if in motion,
VOL. XX.
except by command of the person operating. The senses
and sensations are equally under his command. What is
cold is felt to be hot, and what is bitter is felt to be sweet,
if he pronounces them to be so. Both in private parties
and public meetings these phenomena were exhibited and
lectured upon, throughout the greater part of this country.
Ihe Letters to a Candid Inquirer on Animal Mag¬
netism, by Dr Gregory, give an elaborate description and
analysis of the phenomena of animal magnetism, which he
considers to be identical with mesmerism, electro-biology,
electro-psychology, and hypnotism. We need scarcely say
that Dr Gregory regards all the objections raised against
his favourite science as illogical and absurd in the extreme;
that he admits, almost without question, all the lower as
well as the higher phenomena; that clairvoyance, pre¬
vision, retro-vision, intro-vision, and transference of the
senses, present to him no insurmountable difficulties. He
is an enthusiastic advocate of, and a firm believer in ani¬
mal magnetism, under whatever name it is presented to
him. Being more of a chemist than a physician, he was
less qualified than many other members of his profession to
form sound opinions, and a correct judgment, respecting
doctrines and practices, the just appreciation of which re¬
quired no small amount of physiological and psychological
knowledge. Of the three most eminent supporters of
animal magnetism in this country, it ought to be re¬
marked that one, Mr Colquhoun, was a lawyer; another,
Dr Elliotson, was a physician; and a third, Dr Gregory,
a chemist.
Our limits do not permit us to discuss at length the
numerous interesting and important bearings of the ques¬
tions relating to animal magnetism and somnambulism.
We must content ourselves with stating briefly the follow¬
ing general conclusions:—
I. That it has not been proved that there is any mag¬
netic influence, or nervous fluid, which passes from the
operator to the person operated on, and produces in him
the various phenomena of magnetic somnambulism.
II. That it has been proved that all the phenomena re¬
corded, which have received sufficient scientific scrutiny to
convince men of their truth and reality, can be accounted
for on ordinary principles, without the aid of mesmerism.
III. That the lower phenomena—such as sleep, dimin¬
ished or exalted sensibility, loss of voluntary motion, mus¬
cular rigidity, and the like, can be produced by persons
acting on themselves by means of fixed staring at objects,
which are incapable of giving out any nervous or magnetic
influence.
IV. That the evidence which can be obtained of the
reality of the existence of magnetic somnambulism, in any
case, is inconclusive; that it is possible that the person
supposed to be in such a state may really be awake, and
simply feigning sleep ; and that in many cases there is the
most conclusive evidence that the persons pretending to be
so affected are impostors, while in other cases, in which no
intention to deceive may have existed, the patients have
acted under a peculiar state of mind, to which only the
weak and nervous are liable.
V. That though numerous cases of surgical operations
are recorded in which the patients are reported not to have
felt pain, it is probable that some at least may have really
experienced painful sensations without giving any outward
expression of their sensations; that we have no evidence
or means of knowing, except from their own testimony,
that they did not really feel pain, but that it is very pro¬
bable that in some cases, from a peculiar state of the mind
acting upon the nervous system, the patients were really
rendered unconscious of pain.
VI. That it does not appear from experiment that im¬
munity from pain in operations can be induced, in any but
exceptional cases, in Europeans; though it appears, from
3 K
441
Somnam¬
bulism.
442
S O M N A M
Somnam- the experience of Dr Esdaile, that it can be produced with
bulism. comparative facility in the natives of India. .
v'*""'' VII. That the higher phenomena of clairvoyance, pre¬
vision intro-vision, and retro-vision, do not rest on adequate
and satisfactory evidence. That it has never been proved
in a single instance, when the necessary precautions have
been taken, that a person could read or see objects through
opaque substances 5 and that the alleged instances of the
possession of such a power, when put to the test, have
proved uniformly unsuccessful, and have amounted to
nothing more than attempts at vague guessing. That it
has been proved in some cases that the persons pretending
to know events which happened at a distance, were fully
acquainted with the events through ordinary channels of
information. That the description of events pretended to
have been discovered by means of clairvoyance has not
been in accordance with the truth, unless it has been pos¬
sible for the patient to employ the usual means of discover¬
ing them; and that in most instances there are observed
the most manifest attempts, on the part of their friends, to
assist clairvoyants by suggestions and leading questions.
That the attempts to describe what is going on in the
interior of their own bodies, to diagnose diseases in them¬
selves or others, and to prescribe remedies for the cure of
the diseases which they pretend to discover, have been
complete failures, and mere repetitions of such notions of
anatomy, of disease, and of treatment, as they may have ac¬
quired by casual reading, conversation, or more careful study.
VIII. That there is no recorded instance, worthy of
credit, of transference of the senses—that is, of persons
being able to read, taste, smell, or hear, by the fingers,
stomach, or any other part of the body, other than the
organs by which these functions are naturally performed—
and that pretended instances of the possession of such
powers have been proved to be cases of fraud and wilful
imposition.
IX. That phreno-mesmerism does not prove the truth
of phrenology, or throw any light upon the doctrine that
the faculties of the mind have a local seat in special parts
of the brain, which can be tied up and let loose—mesmer¬
ised or de-mesmerised—at pleasure; and that the experi¬
ments designed to prove the excitement of the so-called
phrenological organs by magnetic operations, have all re¬
sulted in manifest failuresor impositions when properly tested.
X. That the phenomena described by different authors,
under the various designations of animal magnetism, mag¬
netic somnambulism, hypnotism, odyle, and electro-biology,
are identical in their nature, and can be explained, in so
far as they possess any truth or scientific value, upon re¬
cognised physiological principles; that the whole subject
has been systematically obscured by its cultivators with a
cloud of mystery, which has given rise to difficulties, and
placed impediments in the way of rational and scientific
investigation. That the real phenomena which not un-
frequently occur in the weak and nervous subjects of mag¬
netic operations, are in themselves very remarkable; but
that they are not different from phenomena which occur
spontaneously; and that they are to be explained by the
reciprocal influence exerted by the mind and the nervous
system upon each other, and by the unnatural influence
thus induced of the nervous upon the muscular systems.
3. Somnambulism in Germany and other Countries.—
We have already seen that Mesmer attempted to propagate
his doctrines in Germany, but not meeting with sufficient
encouragement he emigrated to France. He left France
in the end of 1784, and retired to Frauenfeldt in Switzer¬
land, where he was visited by Dr Wolfart of Berlin. This
gentleman had been engaged in magnetical practice since
the year 1808. To him Mesmer left his manuscripts at
his death, and a system of Mesmerism was drawn up by
Wolfart from these documents and published in 1814.
BULISM.
it was the discovery of magnetic somnambulism, how- Somnam-
ever, by the Marquis de Puysegur in 1784, and the remark- bulUm.
able phenomena developed in that state, which chiefly v'w1
aroused the attention of the Germans to the subject of ani¬
mal magnetism. The person who seems principally to have
awakened in his countrymen an interest in this revolution
w'hich was working in animal magnetism in France, was the
celebrated physiognomist Lavater, who resided at Zurich.
He opened a correspondence with M. de Puysegur in the
latter half of 1785. In November of that year one of his
letters was published in Berlin, giving an account of the
somnambulency of his wife, and of the surprising pheno¬
mena which had resulted from it. (Vide Berlin Mon-
atschrift, and Eschenmeyers Archiv, for Lavater’s cor¬
respondence ; also Sprengel’s Notes to the Stockholm
Sendschreiben, p. 116.)
In 1788 animal magnetism made great progress in Ger¬
many. Separate treatises and letters were published by
Hoffman, Wienholt, Rahn, and others on this subject.
Bickers of Bremen seems to have been one of those who
took up the subject with most zeal. Two letters of his on
the subject of Lavater’s magnetism were published and re¬
published in several journals in the course of 1787. Wien-
bolt gives an account of the introduction of animal mag¬
netism into Bremen, in the “ Vorbericht” to his Heilkraft,
p. 3. In the same year, C. L. Hoffmann published at
Frankfort (on the Main) The Magnetist, to which two
appendices appeared in the course of the year, besides a
reply by Pichler, entitled The True Magnetist; and as a
mode of testing the reality of the alleged powers, he offered
a prize of 100 ducats to the person who could distinguish
magnetised from ordinary water {Kluge). Eberhard Gmelin
of Tubingen was one of the early patrons of animal mag¬
netism on its return to Germany. In 1787 he addressed
a letter on the subject to Mr Privy Councillor Hoffman of
Mayence; and in 1789 he published new investigations
on that subject. {Salzb. Med. Chir. Zeit., 1790, i., 358.)
In 1791 he commenced the publication of his materials for
Anthropology, of which a second volume was published in
1793. {Salzb. Med. Chir. Zeit., 1791, iii., 387.) The views
of this author on the analogy of the act of magnetising with
that of generation are equally indecent and absurd, and do not
merit any farther mention here. Journals were instituted
for the collection and diffusion of magnetic knowledge. In
1787-8, Bockmann’s Archives of Magnetism and Somnam¬
bulism was published at Carlsruhe, and extended to eight
parts. The Magnet. Magazin fur Nieder-Deutchsland
was published at Bremen, and consisted chiefly of the writ¬
ings of the opponents of magnetism. At this period, as was
afterwards done by Deleuze in France, and Colquhoun in
this country, investigations were made by German writers
to ascertain how far the new phenomena and doctrines
corresponded with phenomena previously noticed, or doc¬
trines previously entertained. In 1788 appeared Kinder-
ling’s Comparison of the Somnambulism of our Times,
with the Incubation, or the Temple-sleep and Prophecy
Breams of Ancient Times ; and, in the same year, lister’s
Specimen Bibliothecae Criticce Magnetismi sic dicti Ani-
mahs. Nor were opponents to the new views wanting in
Germany. Councillor Meiners of Gottingen published a
work against animal magnetism in 1788. In the same year
Joseph! published at Brunswick a work on the same sub¬
ject, as a contribution to the history of human errors; and
a similar w'ork appeared at Kbnigsberg, from the pen of
Professor Metzger. In 1789 J. A. Murray published at
Gottingen an oration in Latin, De Laude Magnetismi sic
dicti Animalis Ambigud, which is mentioned with appro¬
bation in the Salzburg Med. Chir. Zeit., 1790, i., 212.
As the Hotel Dieu in Paris, and the North London Hos¬
pital were opened for magnetical practices, so also we find
that, in 1790, the wards of the Charite Hospital of Berlin
SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnam- were thrown open for a similar purpose by Selle, 'who was
bulism. not satisfied with the results (Sprengel’s Zustande). In
the same year appeared Rahn’s (ot Zurich) Physical Trea¬
tises on the Causes of Sympathy, Magnetism, and Som¬
nambulism, by which the editor of the Salzburg Med. Chir.
Zeitung confesses that he was greatly strengthened in his
unbelief in animal magnetism. At Vienna, in 1794, Dr
Soherr attracted attention by his magnetic and electric
cures; but as soon as an order of the court appeared re¬
gulating his proceedings, his successful treatment was no
longer heard of. At Leipzig, in the same year, a wonder¬
ful "cure was pretended to have been performed by the
Count de Thun (Sprengel, Zustande, p. 217).
Dr Pezold of Dresden experimented on animal mag¬
netism, and an account of twenty-two of his experiments
was published in the second volume of Reil’s Archiv for
1797. Some of his patients had convulsions. One or two
answered questions put to them by other persons than the
magnetiser. Perception in the epigastrium occurred at the
same time with hearing in the ears. The subjects of his
experiments were chiefly servant-maids, and they were
chiefly operated on to excite the wonder and gratify the
curiosity of people of wealth, rank, and fashion. These ex¬
periments of Pezold, as well as a previous work by the same
author, were noticed very unfavourably in the Salzburg
Med. Chirurg. Zeit., 1798, iii., 81.
Numerous articles appeared in Red’s on the sub¬
ject of animal magnetism. In the sixth volume, 1805, two
essays were published—the one by Fred. Hufeland, and
the other by Fischer. Hufeland’s patient was a hysterical
female, and long accustomed to the attentions of medical
men. She was apparently a great admirer of Hufeland.
Fischer’s patient was an epileptic, twenty years of age, who
knew when he was about to have an attack by the dislike
he felt for everything metallic. He had a great liking for
sulphur, and was, like Hufeland’s patient, a manifest de¬
ceiver. Reil’s ninth volume contains a paper by Nasse.
His patient had been affected with an ulcer on the breast
for two years. After fourteen days of animal magnetism,
applied in grand currents, she fell into the state of somnam¬
bulism. From this time she passed from three to five
hours daily, for six weeks, in the somnambulic state, pro¬
duced by magnetic manipulations. She could not rest at
any time content without the presence of her magnetiser.
They sat opposite to one another. She sat with her feet
on a small footstool, and, as often as his fingers were pointed
to her, she saw light streaming out from them towards her.
Had she lived at a later period in the history of animal
magnetism, she would have proved an able assistant at the
odylic experiments of Baron Reichenbach. Her case might
be claimed as an additional testimony to the truth of the
Baron’s discoveries, if it had not been shown that these
luminous phenomena are merely subjective sensations,
readily produced in nervous and hysterical females. This
patient was also clairvoyant, and could see with the eyelids
closed. Other cases are related in Reil, but those already
given are sufficient to indicate their value. In the twelfth
volume will be found Nasse’s somewhat useless experi¬
ments on the influence of animal magnetism on the growth
of plants.
From the time of the French Revolution till near the
end of the war, there was, as we have seen, an interruption
in the general practice of animal magnetism in France;
but its employment in the cure of diseases was adopted by
a considerable number of German physicians, and various
little essays and reports of cases were published in the dif¬
ferent journals from 1787 to 1811, when a more elaborate
treatise on animal magnetism was published by Professor
Kluge, a work which embraced and combined all the theo¬
retical views which had been adopted and the practical
observations that had been made previous to its appearance.
443
Lectures on the subject were delivered two years previ- Somnam-
ously by Professor Spindler in Wurzburg. Kluge’s work, balism.
Versuch einer Darstellung des Animalischen Magnetismus
als Heilmittel, is divided into two portions—a theoretical
and a practical. In the former, he gives a history of the
discovery of animal magnetism, and a review of the mag¬
netic phenomena, as they are witnessed both in the mag¬
netiser and in the magnetised. After noticing the various
magnetic operations, both general and particular, he pro¬
ceeds to give a determination of the magnetic degrees,
which he divides into six. He next offers an explanation
of the magnetic phenomena, and the mode of operation of
the nerves, for the purpose of elucidating the phenomena.
In the latter, he describes the qualities of the magmetiser,
under the two heads, physical and psychical. He then
gives an account of the various magnetic operations, and
describes the cases in which their employment is indi¬
cated.
According to Kluge, we may, in the first place, conform¬
ably with Hufeland’s sketch, distinguish the following lead¬
ing or principal grades in animal magnetism, viz., the purely
physico-magnetical state, without participation of the men¬
tal, and the magnetic state with psychical affection, of which
again there may be two forms, either simple exalted sensi¬
bility, or combined with exaltation of the inner sense. These
three principal grades are again subdivided each into two
particular grades, thus producing a sixfold series.
In the first degree, the common entrances hy which the mind
[psyche) stands in connection with the external world are still un¬
injured. The sensibility remains unclosed, and keeps the persons
constant in the sphere of the usual, whence this state may be called
the degree or grade of waking.
If the person reaches a higher degree, then the sensibility is in
part closed; but the greater part of the senses give him still a
knowledge of surrounding objects, and only the sense of distance
(the eye) withdraws itself from the government of the will, and
passes into the state of a momentary objectlessness. This second
degree of simple disturbed sensibility is named by some magnetists
half-sleep, or imperfect crisis. If the whole sensibility retreats,
then the individual passes over from the connection with the outer
world, and goes to inner darkness. This relation, characterising
the third degree, comes very near the state of stupor, and is desig¬
nated by the name of magnetic sleep. Passed from life, and sunk
into himself, man stands here on the limits of two very different
worlds, at the dark gate of the passage into a higher and better
existence. It is remarkable that memory is carried over from
actual life, through this degree of darkness, to the higher degrees,
and on the return through this degree, this new link remains be¬
hind, and is not brought over into the waking state. If, accord¬
ingly, in those higher states, memory resembles an unbroken chain,
all the links of it which fall within these states are lost for real life.
If the individual wakes, not from that sleep, but within himself,
consciousness returns to him as from a confused dream, and he again
feels distinctly himself and his state. He is sleeping, but waking
in sleep, and now in so far master of sleep, that though he cannot
indeed extinguish it, yet he is not confined by it, but can go out
from himself and carry himself out. Already cut off by the pre¬
ceding degree from life in external things, and brought out into
the magnetic sphere, he now lives within it—lives, therefore, only
in it—and in dependence on the things associated with it. This
dependence has reference chiefly to the magnetiser, through whom .
he, to a certain degree, feels, thinks, and acts, and who is to him
like a new organ, by means of which he is replaced in a very pecu¬
liar connection with external objects. So far from the loss of his
freedom being painful to him, and his dependence on his magne¬
tiser oppressive, this relation is to him exceedingly agreeable.
When in his vicinity, he feels himself as in a region in which he
delights to live and breathe; and when at a distance from him, as
if cast into a wilderness, forsaken and tormented with feelings of
home-sickness. >
The fourth degree is mentioned in the writings of the magnetists,
frequently under the names of perfect crisis, and also of simple som¬
nambulism. To the patients themselves are given the names of
somnambule, somnilogue, and crisologue. Prom the preceding de¬
grees, it differs by the peculiar relation of the connection with the
external world, and from the subsequent degrees, by the circum¬
stance that in it the consciousness is of its natural character ; but
in them it is exalted. As the patient in the transition from the
444 SOMNAMBULISM.
Somnarn- second to the third degree returns into himself, so also in passing
bulism. from the fourth to the fifth degree, he again returns back into him-
^ , j self, not, however, to the same dark confusion, but to internal self¬
intuition. By his common sensibility, raised to a degree of
strength it did not previously possess, and by his exalted conscious¬
ness, he acquires a clear and luminous knowledge of his own
interior condition of body and mind, marks the morbid phenomena
occurring as necessary consequences in the most precise manner,
and determines the most efficacious means for their removal. This,
his inwardness, he maintains also in the case of other persons
placed in magnetic relation with him. The connection with the
magnetiser is closer than before, and consequently the dependence
upon him is greater, but at the same time the pleasure of magnetic
existence is increased. From the fifth degree, which is also named
the degree of self-intuition, all the succeeding magnetic states are
comprehended under the denomination clairvoyance, and to the
patients involved in them is given the name of clairvoyants.
In the sixth degree, the patient again passes out from himself
and into a higher union with the whole of nature. The clearness
that exists in self-intuition, expands over the near and the distant
in space and in time : and hence this state is called the degree of
general lucidity, or ecstasy. The patient is withdrawn from every¬
thing little or earthly, and elevated to greater and nobler feelings.
The highest tranquillity, innocence, and purity, which proceed from
his whole constitution, give him the appearance of an angel. The
connection with the magnetiser is so close, that the patient knows
his thoughts most intimately, and hearkens to his mere volition.
The feeling of this state must border on spirituality.
There is still a higher degree, which Kluge does not
enumerate, because, on the one hand, its properties are lost
to us; and, on the other hand, it does not belong to the
phenomena of rationally conducted magnetic treatment.
It is the degree of transport or rapture, in which the per¬
son enters into himself for the third time, so far that the
intellectual part seems to be completely withdrawn, and life
to be entirely transported from the sphere of the animal into
that of the vegetable kingdom. Destitute of sensation and
consciousness, the person remains for a shorter or longer
period in a state of such apparently spiritual non-existence,
that on awakening, and even during his magnetic sleep, he
has no recollection of it, and may, in case of the frequent
return of such a state, pass very readily into that of a per¬
manent confusion of mind.
Kluge was the principal surgeon to the Prussian medico-
chirurgical Pepiniere, and a man of considerable standing
in his profession. He, like Gmelin, Reil, and other Ger¬
man magnetists, attempted to explain the phenomena of
mesmerism and somnambulism on the theory of a nervous
atmosphere. In the third part of his work he discusses the
mode of operation of the nerves, the relation of the gan¬
glionic to the cerebral system, the influence of volition and
the passions upon the operation of the nervous atmosphere,
and attempts to elucidate in this way the magnetic pheno¬
mena. When we compare this theory with that of Mes-
mer, and the earlier cultivators of animal magnetism, we
shall find that it saps the foundation on which Mesmer con¬
structed his system, and converts the universal fluid which
fills space, and has existed through all time, into the merest
ephemeral emanation. A nervous atmosphere depending for
its existence upon the presence of perishable organisms, is but
a fleeting cloud when compared with the mighty all-pervad-
mg physico-dynamic power, which, in the hands of Mesmer,
accounted for all the magnetic phenomena. We have
already seen, in our account of Dr Esdaile’s experiment,
that he had adopted this theory of a nervous atmosphere
or emanation, and there can be no doubt that he derived
it from a German source, as, in the appendix to his Mes¬
merism in India, he gives abundant evidence of his ac¬
quaintance with the proceedings and opinions of the Ger¬
man magnetists. We may remark that the work of Kluge,
strange as it may appear to English readers from the extracts
we have given from it, contains less extravagant opinions
than some of the other German writers on this subject;
k- °- 1 sorne t^le cases reported by him in support
of his views are sufficiently absurd and ridiculous, the whole
style and tone of his work is more rational than that of the Somnam
generality of the German magnetical writers. bulism.
In 1812 regulations were published relative to the prac-
tice of magnetism in the Prussian states. (Hufeland’s
Journal, xxxv., 125.) In 1813 the Baron Von Strombeck
published at Brunswick an account of an animal magnet¬
ism produced by nature alone, and of a cure effected by it.
To this a reply was published at Cassel in French {par un
amide la Verite), which was answered by Strombeck, whose
reply was translated into French and published at Paris in
1814 (Stieglitz, p. 463). In 1814 Dr Stieglitz, physician to
the King of Hanover, published a work on animal magnet¬
ism, in which he treated of its phenomena and theory, of
the magnetic sleep, of the knowledge of their own diseases
possessed by somnambulists, of the cure of diseases by ani¬
mal magnetism, and many of the more important questions
belonging to this subject. It is curious to remark how
many of the court physicians of Germany at this period
were disciples of Mesmer, or at least believers in and de¬
fenders of some one or other of the many protean forms of
the doctrines which are usually associated with his name.
Besides Stieglitz of Hanover, we have Hufeland, physician
to the King of Prussia; Brandis, physician to the King of
Denmark; and Klein, physician to the King of Wurtem-
berg. An abstract of Stieglitz’s work, published at Berlin
by Hufeland in 1816, called forth a reply from Wolfart in
the same year, which led to the publication in the follow¬
ing year of explanations by Hufeland.
While the German magnetists were thus engaged in
developing new theories, and were wandering far away
from the orthodox doctrines of the founder of animal mag¬
netism, Dr Wolfart of Berlin, who had become engaged
in magnetical practice in 1808, betook himself to Frauen-
feldt in October 1812, and visited Mesmer, who confided
to him his manuscripts, out of which he drew up a system
which he published at Berlin in 1814, under the title of
Mesmerism, or System of the Operations, Theory, and
Application of Animal Magnetism, as the general Cura¬
tive for the Preservation of Mankind. This work was re¬
vised by Mesmer, and received his warmest approbation.
Mesmer died in 1815, and left his harmonican as a legacy
to Wolfart, who published in the same year Commentaries
on the Aphorisms of Mesmer, In Berlin, Wolfart enjoyed
opportunities for the observation of the phenomena and
effects of animal magnetism which no individual is likely ever
again to possess. The Prussian government gave him an
hospital for the reception and treatment of all kinds of
diseases by means of that remedy. Besides being director
of a magnetic clinique, he was a professor of the Faculty of
Medicine in the University of Berlin, Knight of the Iron
Cross, and ot the order of St Anne. In 1818 he com¬
menced a journal entitled, Jahrbucher fur den Lebens Mag-
netismus, oder neues Asclepieion, Allgemeines Zeitblatt
fur die Gesammte Heilkunde, nach den Grundsatzen des
Mesmerismus, which w’as continued till 1823, and con¬
sisted of 5 vols. The title Asclepieion was derived from a
journal of that name published in 1811. The Annals
contain numerous reports of cases and papers by different
writers. At the commencement of the fifth volume he has
recorded the general results of his practice in a statistical
report of hospital and private practice. He mentions that
he had seen about fifty somnambules; but it was chiefly
the curative effects to which his attention seems to have
been turned. Weisse states that, after graduating at Dorpat
in 1815, he came to Berlin, where he attended the private
clinique of Wolfart.
“ I studied mesmerism,” he says, “heard Wolfart lec¬
ture on general therapeutics according to mesmerian prin¬
ciples, and was for almost half-a-year nearly daily present at
his magnetic manipulations, and likewise very often at the
treatment by the baquet. By what I saw, my belief in
SOMNAMBULISM.
jomnam- the healing power of magnetism grew into conviction. I
bulism. saw many diseases give way under the magnetic treatment
-ps/—^ only. I had not here had opportunity to see clear-seeing
somnambules, for Wolfart, not insane, like so many others,
steered clear on this point, and even when he had subjects,
did not present them publicly like marvellous beings, but
in a quiet manner so employed this salutary state as not
to give to the somnambule himself a temptation to vanity,
and to the deceptions springing from that source.”
The number of patients treated daily in the magnetic
clinique of M. Wolfart amounted to more than 200, most of
whom had themselves magnetised in the morning by parti¬
cular manipulations, and the number so operated on was
much more considerable than the number who were treated
at the baquet. It is worthy of note, that besides mes¬
merism, he employed other remedies, such as purgatives,
emetics, &c. Physicians were sent from Stockholm, from
St Petersburg, and from Vienna to study under Wolfart.
At this period animal magnetism appears to have reached
its culminating point in Germany. It was adopted as a
true and authentic doctrine by many of the most eminent
physicians and men of science; and it appears to have
obtained a greater hold on the scientific mind of Germany
than it ever had in any of the other countries of Europe.
Besides Wolfart’s Jahrbucher, another periodical, the Ar¬
chives of Animal Magnetism, was conducted from 1817
to 1821 by Kieser, Nasse, and Nees Von Esenbeck. This
journal represented the German school of somnambulism,
and is full of the most remarkable cases of clairvoyance,
transposition of the senses, introvision, prophecy, and the
development of supernatural powers of knowledge. Our
space will not permit of the quotation of any of these cases,
which are equal in extravagance and incredibility to any
that have ever been published.
Before concluding this brief sketch, we must still notice
another phase of animal magnetism in Germany—viz., the
system of Tellurism—propounded by Dr Kieser of Jena,
and published at Leipsig in 1823. This work is entitled
System des Tellurismus, oder thierischen Magnetismus.
The tellurism of Kieser, though it resolves itself substan¬
tially into somnambulism, is as great a departure from the
doctrine of Mesmer as that of Kluge was. The universal
fluid of Mesmer, and the nervous atmosphere of Kluge,
become in the hands of Kieser a telluric spirit. Though
this essence might be supposed, from the appellation which
has been given to it by its discoverer, to belong peculiarly
or exclusively to the earth or tellus, we find that it is not
so restricted, but is a property of other bodies of the solar
system. By night the moon is said to magnetise the dwell¬
ers on the earth, while the sun demagnetises them in the
morning. This new system was carefully elaborated by its
author; and by its ingenuity, and the harmonious develop¬
ment of its parts, it secured the favour and countenance of
some eminent men, though in reality it was nothing more
than the old doctrine of somnambulism dressed up in a
new name. The fact that this work of Kieser’s passed
through several editions unchanged sufficiently indicates
the powerful hold which it took of the public mind.
From the time of its publication till the appearance of
the Researches of Reichenbach, no attempt at an introduc¬
tion of a new system or theory of animal magnetism seems
to have been made. The work of Reichenbach, however,
was not received with favour by his countrymen; and but
for its translation into English by the late professor of
chemistry in the University of Edinburgh, would probably
have been little heard of. In consequence of this circum¬
stance, we have already noticed the work of Reichenbach
m connection with the history of somnambulism in Great
Britain. Besides the works already referred to which have
a claim upon our attention, from the pretensions which they
set forth of treating the subject of somnambulism in a
445
scientific manner, there are other productions of the German Somnam-
press which, from their extravagance and absurdity, are balism.
scarcely worth even a passing notice. We allude to such
works as—The Prophetess of Prevorst; Revelations on the
Inner Life of Man, and on a World of Spirits extending
into our Sphere, by Justinus Kerner, published at Stutt¬
gart in 1832 ; and Finger-marks of God in divine Revela¬
tions for the celestial and terrestrial Salvation of a Som¬
nambule, published at Leipsic and Weimar in 1838. We
might with equal advantage undertake to explain the inco¬
herent ravings of lunatics, upon any department of science,
religion, or morals, which might form the subject-matter of
their delusions, as attempt to analyse or discuss such lucu¬
brations as these.
The history of somnambulism in Germany is, as we have
seen, associated with the names of many eminent men, to
a greater extent perhaps than in any other country. The
magnetic doctrine also penetrated into Russia through
German channels. Lichtenstaedt published Researches on
Animal Magnetism at St Petersburg in 1816; and Pro¬
fessor Reiss, chemist in Moscow, made experiments in 1817.
It also spread into Denmark, Sweden, and Holland; but
in none of these countries wrere any new investigations
made worthy of special notice. In Italy, an elaborate work
on the theory and practice of animal magnetism, by Verati,
was published, in 4 vols., at Florence in 1846.
From the United States of America we have derived, at
the hands of Dr Darling, that modification of the doctrine
which he has styled Electro-Biology; and to some extent
we are indebted to that country for the hybrid science of
mesmero-phrenology. The Spirit-Rapping mania which re¬
cently invaded the United States speedily eclipsed all the
lesser forms of delusion; but, following the fate which
sooner or later overtakes all such preposterous schemes, its
glory has already waned, and the spiritualism, as it is now
called, of the present day is neither more nor less than our
old friend Clairvoyance under a new' name.
A perusal of the foregoing brief review of the progress
of the theory and practice of animal magnetism and som¬
nambulism in different countries, will have convinced the
reader that it must be a very difficult task to attempt the
physiological and psychological analysis of all the varied
phenomena which have been observed, or which have been
supposed to occur in these states; and some perhaps may
be of the opinion that such an analysis, if possible, might
be attended with little profit. The space allotted to this
article forbids our entering into such a discussion of the
subject, and we have thought it best therefore, in the fore¬
going narration of the different phases which this protean
subject has assumed, at different times and among various
nations, to introduce very briefly such criticism and re¬
flections as might of themselves conduct the reader to
the justest view of its truth or falsehood. We would more
especially refer to the general conclusions stated in pp.
441 and 442, as presenting a fair view of the result of an
impartial estimate of some of the more remarkable of the
magnetic phenomena. But at the same time we feel that
the whole subject cannot be finally dismissed without some
statement of the general impression which we conceive
is left upon the mind of the physiologist by a candid examina¬
tion of the whole evidence which has been adduced in favour
of the existence of the animal magnetic or somnambulic
state. That impression appears to be briefly as follows
That the peculiar condition of nervous excitement into
which many so-called susceptible individuals are thrown by
the very various practices of the magnetisers, is not, in all
instances, as is often supposed by the opponents of the
system, unreal, or voluntarily assumed for the purposes of
deception, but, on the contrary, may be a real and an in¬
voluntary state of their nervous system ; and it is equally
certain that it is due to the influence of the patient’s own
446 SOM
Somnauth mind upon his body. The notion that the magnetic state,
II in so far as it is real, can be directly induced by the will of
Sraata. 0perator? an(j opinion that it may be due to any
unseen influence, or to the agency of any physical or vital
force, known or unknown, passing between the body of the
operator and his patient, are entirely devoid of all credit.
The extent to which the mind is known to be capable of in¬
fluencing the condition of the body, is not by any means
greater than that which is manifested by any of the physi¬
ological states of magnetic somnambulism which can' be
admitted to be real or established. That some deception
has existed among the practisers of magnetism, and still
more among those who have professed themselves suscepti¬
ble somnambulists, there can be no doubt; but this does not
warrant the rejection of the whole of the evidence in favour
of the reality of some of the phenomena exhibited. Indeed,
it seems certain that the deceptions practised would never
have been attempted but upon the basis of some credible
and real phenomena. Those phenomena, which we are
inclined to admit as real, though they may appear very ex¬
traordinary to the uninstructed, are in truth not more re¬
markable than, nor different from, those known to physio¬
logists and pathologists as liable to occur in certain states
of the organism, in the production of which the supposed
magnetic agency can have had no share. It seems almost
unnecessary to add, that among the possible or real pheno¬
mena of the magnetic or somnambulic state, we do not
include any of the exhibitions of clairvoyance, or transfer¬
ence of the powers of the senses from their natural seats to
other organs. In respect to these we do not hesitate to affirm,
SON
that upon due examination and trial they have all proved to gond
be miserable failures, and that after an unbiassed considera- hTusen
tion of the result of such examinations, nothing but the most ||
perverse or weak credulity could lead any one to place re- Sone-
liance in the statements of the supernatural powers alle°-ed
to be acquired in the states to which the names of clair¬
voyance, lucidity, pre-vision, self-intuition, and the like, have
been given. In conclusion, we would remark that the whole
subject is fraught with the deepest interest, not only in a
physiological point of view, from the striking illustrations
which the so-called magnetic phenomena afford of the re¬
lations between the natural and unnatural conditions of the
nervous system; but still more in its psychological aspects,
from the vivid picture which the subject'presents of the ex¬
tent to which many persons, and frequently even those of su¬
perior mental power and acquirement, if of a theoretical turn
of mind, allow themselves to be misled by the careless ob¬
servation of phenomena, and by loose reasoning upon their
causes; and from the manyexamples which it furnishes of the
peculiar and forcible influence which the principles of imita¬
tion, vanity, and love of notoriety exercise on the human
mind ; leading many persons who would not otherwise be
deceivers to make themselves the willing and yielding sub¬
jects of magnetic experiments, in the performance of the
various feats of which they experience the greatest pleasure,
and in which they come to acquire so much dexterity that
they end by making dupes of operators, who fondly imagine
that in leading on their patients to the performance of the
most incredible jugglery, they are advancing the cause of
scientific truth by philosophical researches. (a. t—N.)
SOMNAUTH, or Somnath Pattan, a town of India,
in the Guicowar’s dominions, on the S.W. coast of the
peninsula of Guzerat, 28 miles N.W. of Cape Diu. It is
surrounded by a thick and strong wall, which is further
strengthened by a ditch on all sides, except where it is
washed by the sea. The situation of the town is very fine,
commanding a wide prospect over the Arabian Sea. It
contains numerous mosques, but is chiefly remarkable for a
celebrated temple, which stands on a hill to the north¬
west. This building is not very large, its internal dimen¬
sions being 96 feet by 68; but it is now in a very dilapi¬
dated condition. It once attracted immense crowds of
worshippers at certain seasons, and was attended by a
vast number of Brahmins, and other dependants. The
town has a good harbour and a considerable trade. Pop.
5000.
SOMNER, William, an eminent English antiquary,
was born at Canterbury in 1598 or 1606. His first treatise
was the Antiquities of Canterbury, which he dedicated to
Archbishop Laud. He then applied himself to the study
of the Saxon language; and having made himself master
of it, he perceived that the old glossary prefixed to Sir
Roger Twisden’s edition of the laws of King Henry I.,
printed in 1644, was faulty in many places, he therefore
added to that edition notes and observations valuable for
their learning, with a very useful glossary. His Treatise
of Gavelkind was finished about 1648, though not pub¬
lished till 1660. Somner was zealously arched to King
Charles I. ; and in 1648 he published a poem on his suffer¬
ings and death. His skill in the Saxon tongue led him to
inquire into most of the European languages, ancient and
modern. He assisted Dugdale and Dodsworth in com¬
piling the Monasticon Anglicanum. His Saxon Dictionary
was printed at Oxford in 1659. He died in 1669.
SON A TA (/to/.), a piece of music, consisting of various
movements for a single instrument, with or without accom¬
paniment. The name has sometimes been given to certain
vocal compositions, in which all the voices are equally
essential. Some of the most remarkable modern sonatas are
for the pianoforte, such as those of Haydn, Mozart, Beetho¬
ven, Clementi, Dussek, &c. Formerly sonatas were classed
as sonate di camera and sonate di chiesa—i. e., chamber-
sonatas and church-sonatas—on account of their difference
of style, and the place of performance.
SONDERSHAUSEN, a town of Germany, capital of
Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, on the Wipper, 34 miles
N.N.W. of Weimar. On a hill near the town stands the
palace, which is the residence of the prince, and con¬
tains a museum of antiquities. Trinity church is a large
and splendid building; and the town has also a theatre,
gynmasium, and other schools; an hospital, jail, &c. Pop.
SONDRIO, a town of Lombardy, capital of a province
of the same name, on the Adda, 57 miles N.N.E of Milan.
It contains numerous churches, a theatre, hospital, gymna¬
sium, and other schools, courts of law, &c. The Malero, a
mountain-stream, which here joins the Adda, has several
times destroyed the town by its inundations; but it is now
confined by strong stone erections in a deep and wide bed.
Pop. 4731. ^
SONE, or Soane, a river of India, rises in the territory
of Nagpore, on the lofty table-land of Ulmmunkuntuk, 4
or 5 miles E. of the source of the Nerbudda. It flows at
first north-west; and after leaving Nagpore, separates the
British district of Saugor and Nerbudda from the Rajah
of Rewa’s dominions. Further down, it turns and flows
alternately north-east and east, through the territories of
Rewa; traverses the British district of Mirzapoor; and
finally separates that of Shahabad from those of Behar and
Patna. It falls into the Ganges 10 miles above Dinapore,
after a course of 465 miles. Its tributaries almost all join
it from the right or south-west side; the chief of them are
the Rehund, Kunker, and Koel. Below the confluence of
the last of these the river is broad and deep, and is navi¬
gable during the rainy season for boats of 10 or 12 tons,
though the passage is tedious and dangerous.
SON
SONG, in Music, in a general sense, applies to melody,
Scjfs whether vocal or instrumental. It is usually applied to an
Sooloo air adapted to the words of a short poem. Sometimes, with
Islands, an adjunct, it means a particular form of melody, as plain
song (Fr. plain chant; Ital. canto piano, or canto fermo).
Among songs, the most characteristic and interesting are
the national ones of various countries. To the influence of
national song may be traced those remarkable changes and
improvements in the style of melody, with regard to free¬
dom and expression, that are so perceptible in the music of
professed composers within the last two centuries.
SONNINI DE MANONCOURT, Charles Nicolas
Sigisbert, a French naturalist, was born of a good family,
at Luneville, on the 1st of February 1751. After having
completed his education at the Jesuit University of Pont-a-
Mousson,he became acquainted with Buffon and Nollet, who
encouraged his taste for natural history. He obtained a com¬
mission in the marine engineer service, and was sent to Cay¬
enne, where he distinguished himself so much by his energy
and perseverance that he was made lieutenant on his return
to France. He again visited Cayenne in 1775 ; but finding
his health give way, he was induced to pass a winter as the
assistant of Buffon. He subsequently joined the African
expedition of Baron de Tott in 1777, and visited Egypt,
Asia Minor, and Greece, before his return to France in
1780. He busied himself in agricultural affairs, and was
appointed one of the administrators of the department
of Meurthe. He contributed the volumes of fishes and
cetacea to Buffon’s Natural History, wrote part of the
volumes on reptiles, edited a dictionary of natural history,
and published several volumes of Voyages in Egypt and in
Greece. Sonnini set out for Moldavia in 1810, but died
on his return to Paris, from the effects of a fever which he
had caught during his travels in the East. He deserves
much credit for his labours as a naturalist; while in the
department of archaeology and topography his researches
were not distinguished by any degree of originality. A
complete list of the works of Sonnini will be found in the
Biographic Universelle.
SONORA. See Mexico.
SONSONATE, a town of Central America, San Sal¬
vador, at the mouth of a river of the same name, in the Pa¬
cific Ocean, 50 miles W.S.W. of San Salvador. It contains
several fine churches and convents, and manufactories of
spirits and other articles, and has an active trade in indigo
and tobacco. Pop. 6500.
SONUH, a town of British India, in the district of
Goorgaon, 39 miles S.W. of Delhi. It stands in a long
valley, which stretches from S.W. to N.E., and is enclosed
by hills from 300 to 400 feet high. It contains a bazaar,
and on a height there is a fortress used as a place of refuge
against freebooters; but the most remarkable building is
that built over a sulphureous spring, which is much resorted
to by the inhabitants. It consists of an antique dome, sur¬
rounded by the apartments of the Brahmins, who take
charge of the edifice. The water is used with good effect
for many diseases. Pop. 8513.
SOOLOO ISLANDS, a group in the East Indian Ar¬
chipelago, lying between Borneo on the S. W., and the Phi¬
lippines on the N.E.; and separating the Sea of Sooloo on
the N.W. from that of Celebes on the S.E. It consists of
nearly 150 islands, but most of them are of very small size.
There are three principal groups clustering round the three
largest of the islands, which are Basilan in the N.E., Sooloo
in the centre, and Tawee-Tawee in the S.W. The first of
these lies south of Samboangan in Mindanao, from which
it is separated by a narrow strait. It is 42 miles long by 6
broad; and while the coasts are low, it rises to a consider¬
able elevation in the centre. The soil is fertile; and the
island exports rice, birds’-nests, pearls, mother-of-pearl,
and tortoise-shell. Its population is 20,000. The only
SOP 447
other important island in this group is Pilas, lying to the Sophia
west of Basilan. The dimensions of Sooloo are 40 miles ||
by 10, and its area is 212 square miles. It has two hilly Sophocles,
regions, with a tract of low country between ; and the soil
is for the most part fertile and well wooded. Teak and
sandal wood, cocoa and other nuts, bananas, yams, &c., are
produced in this island; and many of the inhabitants are
employed in pearl-fishing, and obtaining the edible birds’-
nests. The population of this island is variously estimated
from 60,000 to 200,000. In it is a small town, called Soo¬
loo or Soog, where the sultan of the whole group resides.
The island of Tawee-Tawee is about 40 miles long by 12
broad; and like the others it has some considerable hills.
Its productions are similar to those of the other islands of
the group. The sultan of Sooloo and his subordinate chiefs
were formerly notorious for their piracy, and kept up a
large fleet for that purpose; but their power has been en¬
tirely broken by the Spaniards in 1851. The seas, how¬
ever, are still much infested with pirates, which prevents
the full development of the commerce of these islands.
SOPHIA (Bulg. Triaditza, Anc. Sardica), a town of
European Turkey, Bulgaria, in a wide plain on the Bogana,
at the northern base of the Balkan Mountains, 310 miles
W.N.W. of Constantinople. It is a large place, and looks
well from a distance, with its castle and numerous mosques,
but the houses are in general mean and ill built; and the
streets narrow, crooked, and dirty. Besides the mosques
and churches, Sophia contains large and well supplied
bazaars, khans, and warm baths. The churches belong
both to the Greek and Roman Catholics; and the latter
have also here two convents. As this town stands on the
great high road from Constantinople to Belgrade, it is a
place of considerable commerce, which is chiefly in the
hands of Greeks and Armenians. Cloth, leather, and
tobacco, which are manufactured here, are the chief arti¬
cles of trade. Sophia was formerly the residence of a pasha,
and still gives a title to a Greek archbishop and a Roman
Catholic bishop. It was founded by the Emperor Justi¬
nian, on the site of the ancient Sardica, and still contains
some remains of the church erected by that monarch.
Sardica was celebrated for an ecclesiastical council held
here in 347, which occasioned some controversy in con¬
nection with the papal authority. Pop. 46,000.
SOPHISM. See Fallacy and Logic.
SOPHIST (So?>iot?7s), the name which inquirers after
the crotpta originally assumed to themselves in Greece, pre¬
vious to the time of Pythagoras, who is said to have ori¬
ginated the more modest title of philosopher. In time the
term sophist came to imply those who, like Protagoras, Pro-
dicus, and Critias, &c., believed that the arotpia. was not
only unattainable, but that no relative degree of it was pos¬
sible for the human faculties. This scepticism as to science
naturally gave rise to eloquence and other branches of art,
which the sophists taught often with much eclat in the va¬
rious towns of Greece. Protagoras’ maxim that “ man is
the measure of the universe,” indicates how thorough-going
was the scepticism of the sophists. Plato, who allows no
opportunity to escape him of holding up these men to
scorn, is censured by Lewes in his History of Philosophy,
and by Grote in his History of Greece, for his unfair repre¬
sentations of this class.
SOPHOCLES, perhaps the greatest tragedian of ancient
times, was the son of Sophilus, and was born at Colonus, an
Attic village, which lay rather more than a mile to the
north-west of Athens. The only respectable ancient bio¬
graphy which now remains of the great tragedian assigns
his birth to Olymp. 71. 2., B.C. 495. The Parian marble
makes it occur two years earlier; but this date is rejected
by the majority of biographers, on account of its not har¬
monising well with the other recognised dates of the poet’s
life. Supposing, then, that Sophocles was born in 495 B.C.,
448 SOPHOCLES.
Sophocles, lie was five ypars old at tlie battle of Marathon, fifteen
when Euripides first saw the light, and when the battle of
Salamis was fought; and ere he had completed his eleventh
vear, all Greece rang with the fame of ^Eschylus, the father
of the Greek drama. iEschylus, who was the cotemporary
of Simonides and Pindar, was born in 525 B.C., or thirty
years before Sophocles. Some have made the father of the
tragedian a common carpenter, a common smith, and a com¬
mon sword-maker; while others, equally uninformed, have
made him a master sword-maker, a master smith, or a master
carpenter. Without attempting to determine the precise
trade or profession of Sophilus, it is obvious that he must
have held a very good position among the inhabitants of
Colonus, for he gave his son an education very little, if at
all inferior to what was commonly received by the sons of
the most distinguished citizens of Athens. In music and
gymnastics, the two leading branches of a Greek education,
Sophocles gained much distinction, and received the prize
of a crown of garland. So great an adept was he in music,
and so much was his youthful beauty esteemed, that he was
selected by the Athenians, in his sixteenth year, to lead the
chorus and dance naked, with lyre in hand, round the
trophy of the victory of Salamis.
Sophocles, doubtless, had his attention early directed to
the triumphs of ASschylus in the drama; but it does not
appear that he ever received any more special instruction
from that dramatist than the study of his tragedies might
be supposed to bestow. In the year 468 b.c., when So¬
phocles had reached his twenty-seventh year, he came for¬
ward at the solemnities of the great Dionysia to oppose the
veteran dBschylus in a trial of dramatic skill. Cimon, who
had just returned from a successful expedition against the
pirates of Scyros, and who had brought back to Athens the
bones of Theseus, happened to enter the theatre at the time,
along with his nine colleagues, to pay the accustomed offer¬
ing to the god Dionysus, when Aphepsion, the archon, whose
duty it was to elect judges for the dramatic contests, thought
that he could not better exercise the trust which had de¬
volved on him, than by administering to these warriors the
oath appointed for the dramatic judges. Cimon and his
colleagues accordingly took their place on the judges’
bench; and after the recital was heard, Sophocles received
the first prize, and iEschylus the second. The veteran
dramatist, who had never known rivalry for a generation,
is said to have been so mortified at this defeat that he left
Athens, and retired to Sicily. The drama which Sophocles
exhibited on this occasion is supposed to have been the
Triptolemus. (See Welcker, Die Griechischen Tragbdien.)
For the next eight-and-twenty years Sophocles must have
held the supremacy of the Athenian stage, until a formidable
rival arose in Euripides, who gained the first prize for the
first time in 441 B.c. Sophocles gained in all twenty times
the first prize, several times the second, but never the
third. Nothing is known regarding this period of his life.
He brought out the Antigone, the first of his extant dramas,
in 440 B.c. The shrewd reflections on public matters ex¬
pressed in this play induced the Athenians to number him
among the ten Stralegi, of whom Pericles was the chief.
The war which the Strategi had then to conduct was that
against the aristocratical faction of Samos, which lasted for
more than a year, during 440 B.C. and 439 B.c. It was
on this occasion that Sophocles became acquainted with
Herodotus, who was then residing at Samos; and he is
said to have written a lyrical poem for the father of
historians. The dramatist seems to have preserved his
cheerfulness of temper, and his wonted tranquillity of
mind, amid the din and bustle of war. He quietly contem¬
plated human affairs, if he did not take an active share in
conducting them. As Pericles said of him, he understood
the making of poetry, but not the commanding of an army.
This is one of the numerous testimonies which may be
brought forward in evidence of the position, that a man, Sophocla
whose genius runs freely in the channel of reflection, can v
never be a man of action in any high and emphatic sense.
To speak of what men are originally capable can never be
brought to the test of proof; and while human nature re¬
mains as it is, no amount of preconcerted theory can re¬
verse the palpable evidence of fact. It was the case of
Sophocles, as it had been before of iEschylus, that poetry
was the business of his life, and to it he devoted his entire
strength.
Regarding the second period of Sophocles’ greatest
poetical activity, from his fifty-sixth year till his death, or
from 439 b.c. to 406 B.C. or 405 B.c., very little personal
is known. He is said to have written 130 dramas; but
Aristophanes, the grammarian, pronounced 17 of them
spurious, which leaves 113 genuine tragedies and satirical
dramas. More than two-thirds of his works belong to
the latter part of his life. The chronological order of his
extant dramas, so far as it can be ascertained, is as fol¬
lows :—Antigone, Electra, Trachinian Women, King
CEdipus, Ajax, Philoctetes, and CEdipus at Colonus. The
last play was brought out by the grandson of the dramatist
in 401 b.c., some years after the author’s death. Those
who may care to see a careful analysis of these plays
can refer to Muller’s History of the Literature of Ancient
Greece, and to A. W. Schlegel’s Lectures on Dramatic
Literature. Sophocles likewise wrote an elegy, several
paeans, and other minor poems, and a prose work on the
chorus. There is a beautiful story, bearing strong marks
of authenticity, which usually accompanies all biographies
of Sophocles/ His family consisted of two sons, Sophon,
the offspring of Nicostrate, a free Athenian woman, and
Ariston, the son of Theoris of Sicyon. Ariston had
a son named Sophocles, to whom allusion has just been
made, and to whom his grandfather showed the greatest
affection. Sophon, who, by the laws of Athens, was his
father’s rightful heir, dreading an alienation of the paternal
property in behalf of young Sophocles, summoned the
old dramatist before the phratria, and urged a plea of
mental incapacity, induced by old age. Sophocles at once
answered, “If I am Sophocles, I am not beside myself; and
if I am beside myself, I am not Sophocles.” He then
read from the magnificent parados to his unpublished
play, CEdipus at Colonus, beginning, EmWov, £eVe, rao-Se
Xwpas; and when he had finished, the judges dismissed the
case, and rebuked the ungrateful prosecutor. 1 he poet
was allowed to pass the remainder of his days in peace.
He died either towards the end of 406 B.C., or the begin¬
ning of 405 b.c., at the extreme age of ninety. The reports
of his death vary. Some would have us believe that he was
choked by a grape-stone, some that he died of an affection
of the throat, occasioned by a public recitation of his Anti¬
gone; while others, with equal improbability, would make
him die of joy at the announcement of a victory obtained
by one of his dramas. He was buried in the tomb of his
ancestors, near Deceleia.
The mind of Sophocles was as full and as symmetrical in
its development as his bodily form was handsome and his
expression beautiful. His passions, in the early stage of his
career, appear to have been wild and turbulent, and it was
only when he brought the weight of experience to balance
them that he was able to keep in check that tendency to
sensual pleasure in which his enemies accuse him of having
indulged. The solidity which a man gains by years, if
not seasonably checked, is apt to crystallize, and the
idle scandal-mongers of Athens, who could no longer
gloat over the youthful follies of the successful dramatist,
sought to tarnish the lustre of his genius by whispering the
avarice of the poet into the ears of his fellow-citizens.
The comic poets of his day ranked Sophocles with Simon¬
ides, both, as they said, prostituting the divine gift which
SOP
Sophocles, the gods had given them for a piece of base gold. If
anything more than the expression of the petty envy of
inferiors, this statement is not likely seriously to damage
the brightness of the fame of Sophocles in the eyes of a
modern reader. If the charge is true, all that a man now-
a-days is likely to remark regarding it is, that it proved
the good sense of the poet in not squandering his earnings
or giving free rein to the habits of the spendthrift. A
spirit of evenness and tranquil contentment, of piety and
of cheerfulness, seem to have attended him to the grave.
The fine spontaneity of genius which he signally illustrated
in his dramas was notably visible in his life. A noble
simplicity and tenderness waited on all he did, and the
intensely human character of his writings was wholly bor¬
rowed from his own heart. If iEschylus could bear the
torch higher than Sophocles, Sophocles bore it with a
much steadier hand than iEschylus. The latter rose at
times to a superhuman height in his ambition to seize
upon his lofty ideal; the former was always content to dwell
among the homes of men, directing their gaze upon their
own hearts, and wistfully turning them towards heaven.
He had better possession of his faculties than jEschylus,
and they never carried him away beyond the bounds
of the intelligible. Sophocles was the high-priest of
humanity. He chose, as he phrased it, “ to put away the
pomp of iEschylus along with his childish thingsand he
exhibited that mild grandeur and matchless refinement in
which he excels all the dramatists of Greece. He made
tragic poetry a true mirror of the passions of the soul of
man, and exhibited as has seldom been done the true
moral significance of human action. He gave men their
own hearts to read, and compelled them to peruse the
volume. He said that “ he himself represented men as
they ought to be, but Euripides exhibited them as they
are.” iEschylus, by the height of his genius, always
creates heroes ; Sophocles, by the very moderation of his
powers, exhibits idealized men ; Euripides, by the intense
spirit of scepticism which presides over all he did, dwarfed
man beneath his natural dignity, and appears occasionally
to laugh in secret at the creatures which his own hands had
made. The characters of Sophocles are always strong and
great, but they are always men and women drawn with such
singular power, that one can always recognise some feature
in his own character as the scroll of the appetites, affec¬
tions, and passions is unrolled before him. In his earlier
attempts his hand occasionally gave marks of indecision
and wavering ; his style was sometimes artificial and even
obscure; but once he got all the powers of his mind en¬
tirely at his command, the whole world seemed to be laid
bare before his eye, and everything gave way before natural
simplicity and directness.
Sophocles introduced important changes into the ar¬
rangements of the Athenian stage. With the exception
of the Antigone* all the dramas of this poet turn upon one
great action. With iEschylus again the three plays of a
triology resemble so many acts of one drama. The chorus,
which in iEschylus expressed the feelings supposed to be
called forth in an intelligent audience, with Sophocles
played a much more subordinate part, representing, as it
appeared to do, what was passing in the minds of the actors
rather than in those of the spectators of the drama.
Hitherto in the history of the stage the actors had always
been limited to two, but Sophocles introduced a “triagon-
istes,” a third actor, which materially relieved the monotony
of the scene and the stiffness of the dialogue. His other
improvements were confined to stage-painting and other
artificial parts of the mechanism of the stage.
After the masterly work of Lessing on Sophocles, un¬
fortunately left as a fragment, the reader may refer to the
treatises of Schultz and Scholl, besides the history of K.
O. Muller and the Lectures of A. W. Schlegel.
VOL. XX.
S 0 R 449
The editio princeps of Sophocles was printed by Aldus, Sophron
at Venice, in 1502. The best of the subsequent editions II
are those of Stephens, 1568 ; Brunck, 2 vols., 1786; Mus- Soria,
grave, 2 vols., 1800; Erfurdt, 7 vols., 1802-25 ; Bothe, 2
vols., 1806; Elmsley, 8 vols., 1826; G. Hermann, 7 vols.,
1850-51. All subsequent to Brunck have based their
text upon his edition. A useful issue for students is
that of Wunder, 1831-41; also one based on Dindorf’s
text, London, 2 vols, 1854. The editions, translations,
&c., &c., of single plays of Sophocles are almost countless.
There are besides many versions of the whole of Sophocles’
tragedies both into English and other continental lan¬
guages. The English prose translations are those by
Adams, 2 vols., 1729; by Franklin, 2 vols., 1758-59;
by Potter, 1788 ; by Dale, 1824 ; and a revision of the
Oxford translation by Buckley, 1849.
SOPHRON, said to be the inventor of the Mime, which
was one of the numerous varieties of the Dorian comedy,
was the son of Agathocles, and was born at Syracuse, and
flourished during the middle of the fifth century. Not only
incidents, but characters were represented in the Mimes
of Sophron, and they were composed in an irregular halting
rhythm, consisting of a medium between poetry and prose.
They were written in the old Doric dialect, and were
doubtless intended for public exhibition. Sophron was
closely imitated by Theocritus. Plato esteemed highly the
productions of Sophron, and is said to have introduced
them to the notice of the Athenians. (Quintil., i. 10,
17). The fragments of Sophron which have survived
him have been collected by Blomfield in the Classical
Journal* No. 8, and more fully in the Museum Criticum*
vol. ii.
SORA, a town of Naples, in the province of Terra di
Lavoro, 15 miles E.N.E. of Frosinone. It occupies a flat
piece of ground, partly surrounded by the Liris, where that
river issues from a narrow glen; and immediately behind
the town rises a rocky hill crowned with old Cyclopean
walls and Gothic towers. The streets are broad, well paved,
and lined with large and substantial houses. There are
here a fine cathedral, several churches and convents, a
school, hospital, and alms-houses. Woollen cloth and paper
are manufactured. Sora was originally a Volscian city,
and probably the furthest north of their possessions. It
was seized by the Romans in 345 B.C., and subsequently
made a colony; but in 315 the inhabitants rose against the
Romans, and joined their enemies the Samnites. It was
not finally secured as a Roman colony till the end of the
second Samnite war in 303. After this period its history
is of no importance; but it is frequently mentioned as a
quiet country town. A few Roman remains have been
preserved. Sora was the birth-place of Cardinal Baronius,
the eminent Roman Catholic historian. Pop. 8000.
SORATA. See Andes.
SORAU, a town of the Prussian monarchy, in the pro¬
vince of Brandenburg, government and 50 miles S.S.E. of
Frankfurt-on-the-Oder. It is surrounded by walls flanked
with towers, and is also defended by two castles. Here there
are numerous churches, a gymnasium, several hospitals,
and a lunatic asylum. Woollen and linen cloth are manu¬
factured here, as well as hosiery, leather, tobacco, &c.
Pop. 7891.
SORBAS, a town of Spain, Andalusia, in the province
and 28 miles E.N.E. of Almeria. It stands on a hill, and
is generally ill built. It contains a square in which stand the
principal buildings of the town. These are the church,
court-house, prison, and the palace of theDuke ofValoig and
Alva. Pottery is manufactured here of a much esteemed
kind ; linen cloth and serge are also woven. Pop. 5200.
SORBONNE. See Universities.
SORIA, a province of Spain, in Old Castile, bounded
on the N. by that of Logrono, E. by that of Saragossa,
3 L
450 S O R
Soria S. bv that of Guadalajara, S.W. by that of Segovia,
II and N.W. by that of Burgos. Area, o468 square miles.
Sorrento. jt is a and i0fty region, being bounded on three
sides the N., E., and S. by mountains. The Sierra Madera
in the north, and the Sierra de Moncays in the east, sepa¬
rate the valley of the Douro from that of the Ebro, while
on the south it is divided from that of the Tagus by a con¬
tinuation of the Sierra Guadarrama. The whole of the
province belongs to the region watered by the Douro and
its affluents. This river rises in the northern mountains,
and after traversing the province in a circuitous course,
first to the south and then to the west, it leaves it, and
enters that of Burgos. The other rivers are mostly affluents
of the Douro, such as the Tuerto, San Pedro, &c.; but a
few of the tributaries of the Ebro have their sources within
the limits of the province. The soil is not remarkable for
fertility; on the contrary, a large proportion of the area is
occupied with barren mountains, which are covered with
snow for a great part of the year. There are, however,
in some places extensive forests of pine, oak, and beech;
while in others there are large tracts of pasture land, on
which numbers of cattle, sheep, and swine are reared.
Grain and vegetables are raised, but neither of very good
quality, nor in sufficient quantities to supply the wants of
the population. The climate is cold and dry; and the
scenery grand, but not very pleasing in its character. Most
of the people are employed in farming and rearing cattle;
but the cutting and sawing of timber, and preparation ol
charcoal, also occupy a considerable number. There is a
great want of roads in this part of the country; and the
commerce is consequently very limited. Fine wool was
formerly an important production of the province ; but of
late years it has considerably fallen off. Ihe only important
article of trade at present is timber, which is sent to Madrid
and Aragon. Pop. (1857) 178,645.
Soria, the capital of the above province, on a hill on
the right bank of the Douro, 113 miles N.E. of Madrid.
It is an ancient town, and still surrounded by walls which
were built in the thirteenth century. This dull, though
well-built town, contains several squares, in one of which
stand the court-house and prisons, and in another the
spacious palace of the Dukes of Gomara. 4 here are also
numerous churches, monasteries, and nunneries; a theatre,
college, and several hospitals. The population is chiefly
agricultural; but there are also flour-mills, tanneries, pot¬
teries, &c.; and some trade in timber, wool, and fruit is
carried on. Near Soria is supposed to be the site of the
ancient Numantia, of which no traces remain. Pop. 5400.
SGROCABA, a town of Brazil, in the province, and 50
miles W.S.W. of San Paulo, in a_ mountainous but fertile
district on the River Sorocaba. It contains various manu¬
factories, and in the vicinity there are quarries ol flint, and
an imperial foundry at Ypanema. Pop. 12,000.
SORRENTO, a town of the kingdom of the Two
Sicilies, in the province and 17 miles S.S.E. ol Naples,
in a beautiful and rich tract, called the Piano di Sorrento,
on the south shore of the Bay ol Naples, and nearly oppo¬
site the capital. It is surrounded on three sides by a wild
and gloomy ravine, 300 feet deep; while on the fourth it
rises from precipices skirting the sea. It is an archiepis-
copal see; and contains a cathedral and numerous other
churches, as well as convents, hospitals, a college, &c.
Silk is manufactured here; and a considerable trade is carried
on with the capital. The ancient Surrentum, which occupied
the site of this town, wras founded, according to tradition,
by a Greek colony; but little is known of its early history;
and it never rose to great historical importance. It was
chiefly known in ancient times for its highly esteemed wine,
which was grown in the hills encircling the Piano di Sor¬
rento ; that at present raised here is very indifferent. 1 he
only existing remains of the ancient town are numerous
SOU
fragments; but none of them are of much interest. Sorrento Sosnitza
is distinguished as the birth-place of Tasso. Pop. 8000. ||
SOSNITZA, a town of European Russia, capital of a 8oult-
circle in the government and 59 miles E. of Tchernigov,
at the confluence of the Ubeda and the Desna. It con¬
tains a cathedral and several other churches, a school and
an hospital. Some trade is carried on in corn and cattle.
Pop. 5276.
SOTTEVILLE-les-Rouen, a town of France, in the
department of Seine Inferieure, 4 miles S. of Rouen, of
which it is sometimes considered a suburb. It contains
spinning-mills, and manufactories of soap, glue, and che¬
mical substances. Pop. 4960.
SOUDAN. See Nigritia.
SOULI^, Melchior Frederic, a fertile writer of
French romances, was the son of a teacher of philosophy,
and was born at Foix, on the 23d of December 1800. In
his youth his residence was unsettled. He accordingly
received a sort of peripatetic education at Nantes, Poitiers,
Paris, and Rennes. He entered on the study of the law, but
gave himself up to literature. His first work was a volume
of fugitive pieces, bearing the title of Amours Frangaises.
Having come to Paris, he now became foreman to an up¬
holsterer, and wrought hard during his leisure hours at
poetry and the drama. His Romeo and Juliette, after much
tossing about from theatre to theatre, at last was got^ acted
in 1828, and met with considerable success. Soulie con¬
tinued to labour for the theatres and for periodicals till
1833, when his Clotilde having gained great success, he
was engaged on various newspapers as a feuilltonist. He
produced upwards of thirty fictions in this capacity, of
which his Memoires du Diable in 1842 was by far the
most popular. The great demand for this novel unquestion¬
ably gave rise to Sue’s Mystercs de Paris. Soulie bought
an estate at Bievre, where he died September 22, 1847.
SOULT, Nicolas Jean-de-Dieu, Marechal, Due de
Dalmatie, was born, like nearly all Napoleon’s generals,
of humble parents, on the 29th of March 1769, the same
year in which Wellington first saw the light. He was sent
duly to school in his native place St Amand du larn, but
the future marshal displayed no love for books. He be¬
trayed a liking for military enterprise, and he was allowed to
enlist as a private soldier in 1785. He rose successively
to be corporal in 1787; sergeant in 1791 ; adjutant-major
in 1792; captain in 1793; chef-de-bataillon, and chef and
general of brigade in 1794. During this rapid rise into
notoriety, he displayed great firmness, self-possession, and
tact in the management of men, whether individually or
in masses. He gave a signal instance of his bravery at the
retreat of the French army at Herborn. He was hemmed
in by a body of Austrians nearly ten times his number;
yet, after sustaining seven distinct charges, he drew off
his troops without the loss of a single soldier. During the
Revolution Soult was as diligent among the civilians as he
was vigorous among his soldiers. He frequented the clubs,
flattered the men in power, and was loud in his denun¬
ciations of the old regime. He was made general of divi¬
sion in 1799, and fought successively under Jourdain,
Massena, and Napoleon. He became lieutenant-general
of the army in Italy in 1800, of the army of the south in
1801,and hewas created a marshal of Francein 1804. When
a general of division on the heights of Boulogne, his labours
were prodigious. From early dawn till late at night he was
never off his horse, riding through the ranks, and investi¬
gating into every detail of military discipline with so much
rigour and minuteness that the men and officers requested
the interference of the First Consul. Soult answered Na¬
poleon, “ Sire, such as cannot withstand the fatigue which
I support myself, ought to remain in the depots. Such as
do stand it will be fit for the conquest of England and of
the world.” At the battle of Austerlitz Napoleon thanked
sou
Sound him publicly on the battle-field for his skill. “ Marshal,”
| said the conqueror, “ you are the ablest tactician in the
South, army.” Soult was created Due de Dalmatie in 1807, and
Robert. recejvecj tiie chief command under Napoleon. He was
^ despatched immediately to Spain, where he was destined
to receive such a series of checks from the “ nation of
shop-keepers,” as was likely to make him speak more cau¬
tiously of conquests of England and of the world ever after.
For this portion of Soult’s career the reader is referred to
the articles Britain, France, and Spain.
On the retirement of Napoleon to Elba, Soult at once
attached himself to the restored monarch, and as minister
of war, charged the army “ to rally round their legitimate
and well-beloved sovereign, and resist the adventurer, who
wanted to seize again that usurped power of which he had
made so pernicious a use.” The warlike Due, however,
saw “the adventurer” on the 25th of March 1815, and
accepted a generalship at his hands for the coming cam¬
paign. Waterloo was fought and lost, and Marechal Soult
was banished from France. He was permitted to return,
however, in 1819; his baton was restored to him; he was
received with favour by Charles X., who made him a peer
of France in 1827. He rose to be prime minister under
Louis Philippe, and was present as ambassador-extraordi¬
nary at the coronation of Queen Victoria. Louis Philippe
permitted him to retire with the ancient dignity of mare-
chal-general of France in 1847. Soult survived till No¬
vember 26, 1851, when he died at Soult-Berg, near his
native town of St Amand-du-Tarn. After his death the
splendid gallery of pictures which he had plundered during
bis residence in Spain were sold by auction, and realized
a very large sum. The first part of the Memoires of
Soult were published in 3 volumes by his son in 1854.
SOUND. See Acoustics.
SOUND, The, a narrow strait, forming one of the com¬
munications between the Cattegat and the Baltic, and sepa¬
rating the Danish island of Zealand from the coast of
Sweden. In the most extensive application of the term,
the Sound is 66 miles long, from the Kullen in the N. to
Falsterbo Point in the S., both on the Swedish coast; and
its greatest breadth, opposite Copenhagen, is 17 miles ; but
the name is more properly restricted to the narrow portion
between Elsinore and Helsingborg, where it is only 3
miles across. The Sound dues, formerly payable to the
Danish crown by all vessels passing the strait, were abol¬
ished, 14th March 1857, by a treaty between Denmark and
Great Britain, Austria, Belgium, France, Hanover, Meck¬
lenburg-Schwerin, Oldenburg, the Netherlands, Prussia,
Russia, Sweden, and Norway, and the Hanseatic cities of
Bremen, Lubeck, and Hamburg. The contracting powers
agreed to pay to Denmark a pecuniary compensation; and
Denmark, on the other hand, consented to abolish the dues,
and to continue the preservation of the lighthouses and su¬
perintendence of the pilotage of the Sound. The total
amount of compensation granted to Denmark by this treaty
was L.3,386,258, of which L.1,125,206 is from Great Bri¬
tain. A separate treaty was concluded shortly after, be¬
tween Denmark and the United States of America, for a
similar purpose. The compensation in this case was fixed
at L.79,759. The navigation of the Sound is somewhat
dangerous, as there are shoals and quicksands on each side
of the channel.
SOUNDING. See Seamanship.
SOUR, or Tsour. See Tyre.
SOUTH, Robert, a distinguished clergyman of the
Church of England, was born at Hackney, in Middlesex, in
1633. He seems from bis boyhood to have been attached
to the reigning monarchy, for, in the school of Westminster,
where Dr Busby was master, he prayed for his majesty,
Charles L, by name, on the day of his execution. In 1651,
he entered Christ Church, Oxford, at the same time with
SOU 451
the distinguished John Locke. He took his bachelor’s de- South,
gree in 1655, and wrote, on that occasion, a copy of Latin
verses, congratulating Oliver Cromwell on his late peace
with the Dutch. The apology usually offered for this in¬
discretion on South’s part is, that it was then usual to im¬
pose such a task upon baccalaureates. He took his degree
of M.A, in 1657, not without some opposition from the
dean of Christ Church, Dr John Owen. South was ap¬
pointed university orator in 1660; domestic chaplain to
Chancellor Clarendon shortly afterwards; prebendary of
Westminster in 1663; and canon of Christ’s Church,
Oxford, in 1670. His “ Scribe Instructed” is as good a
specimen of his sermons as one could wish for. Al¬
though written while the author was a comparatively
young man, it displays all the sharp clear sense of his ma-
turer years. It is full of insight, vivacity, perspicuity, copi¬
ousness and force. In the latter qualities, he has very few
equals among English writers. But the sin of his sermons
was the sharp, keen, cutting wit and sarcasm with which they
abounded. If his hearers refrained from occasional bursts
of laughter, it said much for their gravity, and is more than a
reader of the nineteentn century would be capable of. He
is perpetually down upon the poor dissenters, mocking
them, holding up their defects to the jeers of his audience,
and their merits not unfrequently to their bitterest scorn.
But a short specimen from the sermon already alluded to
will put this in a clear light. The teachers of those days,
he says, “ first of all seize upon some text, from whence
they draw something (which they call doctrine), and well
may it be said to be draivn from the words, forasmuch as it
seldom naturally flows or results from them. In the next
place, being thus provided, they branch it into several
heads, perhaps twenty, or thirty, or upwards. Whereupon,
for the prosecution of these, they repair to some trusty Con¬
cordance, which never fails them, and by the help of that,
they range six or seven Scriptures under each head: which
Scriptures they prosecute one by one ; first amplifying and
enlarging upon one for some considerable time, till they
have spoiled it; and then, that being done, they pass to an¬
other, which, in its turn, suffers accordingly. And these
impertinent and unpremeditated enlargements they look
upon as the motions, effects, and breathings of the Spirit,
and therefore much beyond those carnal ordinances of sense
and reason, supported by industry and study ; and this they
call a saving way of preaching, as it must be confessed to be
a way to save much labour, and nothing else that I know of.”
South accompanied Lawrence Hyde, son of Clarendon,
on his embassy to John Sobieski, the King of Poland, as his
chaplain. The long letter which South wrote home, de¬
scriptive of Poland, is both curious and interesting. Sobi¬
eski, he says, in addition to his own language, was acquainted
with French, Italian, German, and Turkish, and could
speak Latin with great fluency. South on his return to
England was made rector of Islip, and continued to preach
up divine right and no quarter to Protestant dissenters or
to Roman Catholics ; yet curious to say he would accept of
no preferment either from Charles II. or James ; and it is
said some of the highest dignities of the church were laid at
his feet. He is reported to have had the best of the dis¬
cussion which was carried on with Dr Sherlock, with more
wit than wisdom, and with more sarcasm than solemnity.
The latter had written a book entitled, A Vindication of
the Holy and Ever-blessed Trinity ; and South attacked
him for having promulgated tritheism. The war of words
ran so high that the king had to interpose. South died on
the 8th of July 1716, and was buried in Westminster
Abbey. There is a very intemperate and injudicious bio¬
graphy of South prefixed to Curll’s edition of his works,
published in 1717. The Sermons of Dr South will be found
in the 7-vol. edition of Oxford, 1823, or in any of the
recent issues of them.
452
SOUTHAMPTON.
South- SOUTHAMPTON is situated on the south coast of
ampton. Hampshire (Lat. 50. 55; Long. 1. 32), at the junction of
the small river Itchen with a straight arm of the sea, which
Situation, runs inland from the Solent. This inland sea, called the
Southampton Water, extends for four miles above the town
to the village of Red Bridge, and for seven miles below it
to the promontory of Calshot Castle, a small fort nearly op¬
posite Cowes in the Isle of Wight, which commands the
entrance. The width of this arm varies from one and a
half to two miles, and being skirted on the north bank by
the wooded heights about Netley Abbey, it forms a beau¬
tiful sea-approach to Southampton. Being, from its posi¬
tion, completely land-locked, it is exempt from the swell of
the open sea, from whichever direction the wind may blow ;
and possessing at the sametime a straight channel, with con¬
siderable depth of water and good holding-ground, it is not
surprising that the Southampton Water should be regarded
as one of the safest and most commodious harbours on our
coasts.
Oharac- To this fortunate peculiarity is due the present thriving
teristics. condition of the town, its population having increased by
nearly one-half since the year 1840, when it was selected
as the port of departure for the mail steam-packets to India
and the West Indies. To the same cause must be also
ascribed the very marked alteration which has taken place
in the character of the town, which, before the opening of
the famous docks in 1842, was a fashionable watering-
place, much resorted to by the county families in the
neighbourhood, as well as by visitors from London. Steam
has now brought about a complete revolution in this re¬
spect. Modern Southampton, though still cheerful and
attractive, has assumed the graver habits of a mercantile
community; her well-stored shops being tenanted by a
shrewd bustling class of tradespeople, who depend, to a
great extent, upon the custom of the large steam-shipping
companies, and on the whimsical wants of the crowd of
Indian passengers who sojourn here for a few days on their
way to and from the east.
Such at least is the character of the business portion of
the town below the “ Bar-gate’;” but Southampton yet
owns an aristocratic section, occupying the high ground to
the north, where the town begins gradually to merge into
the beautiful country beyond. This quarter is mostly ten¬
anted by the families of retired military and naval officers,
and others not connected with the trade of the port, but
who are attracted to this pleasant town by its own intrinsic
Suburbs, merits. Still further removed from business, and beyond
the limits of the borough rates, which add materially to the
expense of a town residence, are the suburbs of Portswood,
Highfield, Bassett, Shirley, Millbrook, which are built over
with villas of moderate pretensions, and are rapidly absorb¬
ing the finely wooded parks and grounds of the numerous
country-seats in the immediate neighbourhood. The open
country beyond is undulating and woody, with occasional
downs and common-land, presenting a variety of beautiful
rides, walks, and drives.
Crossing the Itchen, from Southampton, by the steam
floating-bridge, we gain the suburbs of Bitterne, West End,
Woolston, and Netley, surrounded by an equally pleasant
country.
The approach to Southampton by the London road is
through a very fine avenue of old lime-trees, about a mile
in length; and beyond this distance the road enters the
broad expanse of Southampton Common, planted with pic¬
turesque groups of the Scotch fir, many of them of great
age and size. The holly and laurel here flourish luxuri¬
antly, in a wild state, in company with furze, brambles, and
broom.
General The general appearance of Southampton is that of a clean,
features. wej] or(]ere(j town, with little architectural dis¬
play, it is true, but with a certain picturesque irregularity of
style and outline in the streets and houses, which has a South-
lively and pleasing effect. It can boast of at least one ampton.
handsome, wide, bustling thoroughfare, the High Street,
leading from the quays on the south of the town to the
commencement of the “ Avenue” on the north. This street
is about a mile in length, and is chiefly occupied by shops
of a superior description, whose well-stored windows pre¬
sent a tempting display. It is divided in the middle of its
length by the Bar-gate, a relic of the ancient city-walls,
like the Temple-bar in London, and the street is called
Above or Below-bar, according to its position with re¬
ference to this gate. Southampton is not remarkable for
the beauty of its churches or public buildings, which
scarcely accord with the wealth and importance of the
modern city; but it excels in those more essential works
of public utility—sewerage, gas-lighting, and water-supply,
each of which is tolerably perfect in its kind. Within the
last few years a “park” has been enclosed and planted for
the recreation of the citizens, and a corner of the beautiful
Southampton Common has been appropriated as a cemetery.
The town is supplied with excellent water from the river
Itchen, at about 4 miles from its mouth. The water is
pumped up by steam power, at the rate of 1000 gallons per
minute, into two large reservoirs on the Common, which
have an elevation of 180 feet above the sea, being about
80 feet higher than the upper part of the town. About
1,500,000 gallons of pure water are thus supplied per day
of 24 hours, which is equal to 20 gallons per day for each
person.
The educational establishments of the town are numerous
and respectable, but of only local celebrity. Mention should
be made, however, of the munificent bequest of the late Mr
H. R. Hartley, once a resident of Southampton, who has The Hart-
recently left a sum of L. 105,000 to the mayor and corpora-ley Insti*
tion upon trust, “ to employ the yearly proceeds thereof in
such manner as may best promote the study and advance¬
ment of the sciences of natural history, astronomy, anti¬
quities, and classical and oriental literature in the town of
Southampton—such as by forming a public library, botanic
garden, observatory, and collections of objects in connection
with the above sciences.” This will, unfortunately, was
disputed by the relations, and became the subject of an
expensive suit in the Court of Chancery, which terminated
in 1858 ; when, after settling the terms of compromise with
some of the claimants, and paying the lawyers to the amount
of about L.35,000, the sum finally secured by the corpora¬
tion did not exceed LAO,000. The testator left, in addi¬
tion, his books, manuscripts, and antiquities, and three houses
and furniture, for the same object. It is proposed to spend
about L. 10,000 in the new building, to be called the
Hartley Institute, which will comprise two lecture-theatres,
a laboratory, museum, library, reading-room, picture gallery,
model-room, class-rooms, and observatory, the remainder of
the money being spent in furnishing and endowing the same.
This town has been selected by government for the head- The Ordi-
quarters of the staff of royal engineers engaged in making nance Map
the Ordnance surveys of Great Britain and Ireland. A Office,
spacious building for their accommodation was erected in
1857, where the maps are drawn, reduced, and engraved to
three different scales, being afterwards printed and coloured
on the premises, and prepared for distribution to all parts
of the country. Colonel Henry James, R.E. and F.R.S.,
is the superintendent of the ordnance map office, about
300 persons being employed under him. The process of
reducing the maps to the required scales is effected with
great expedition and accuracy by the aid of photography.
An institution of this kind is of great benefit, as tending to
raise the standard of education and intelligence amongst
the middle classes. gouth
The South Hants Infirmary (with which the names of jjants jn.
Doctors Joseph and William Bullar are so gratefully andf}mary.
South¬
ampton.
SOU
honourably associated) is located at Southampton, and is one
of the best managed and most extensively useful institutions
of its kind. It makes up sixty beds, and during the past
year it has relieved 521 in-patients and 1788 out-patients.
The principal feature of modern Southampton are un¬
doubtedly the docks, which were opened in 1842. They
he Docks, consist of an open or tidal basin, and an inner or close basin.
The tidal dock has an area of 16 acres of water, with a depth
of 18 feet at low water, and about 31 feet at high water.
Its entrance from the Itchen estuary is 150 feet wide, and
will admit the largest steam-ships at high water. The quays
round the dock measure 3000 feet, and are formed of very
substantial granite masonry. Three large graving-docks
enter from the tidal basin, one of which is the largest dry-
dock in the world, measuring 425 feet long on the floor, and
80 feet wide between the gate cills. Even the royal navy
require to use this dock occasionally. In the inner basin,
which enters from the tidal basin, the water is always retained
at the level of high-water by means of a pair of dock-gates
closing the passage between the two basins. The inner
basin has an area of 10 acres, and a depth of 25 feet. 1 he
docks were designed by Mr Francis Giles, and completed by
Mr Alfred Giles, C.E. The Southampton docks have/owr
tides every 24 hours, a peculiarity not found in any other
Peculiarity of our seaports. This is caused by the Isle of Wight be-
rfthe tides, ing situated across the entrance to the Southampton Water.
A portion of the great tidal wave, in its progress up the
Channel, becomes separated from the main body, and, flow¬
ing up the Needles passage into the Solent, reaches South¬
ampton, and causes the first tide about the same time that
the main body arrives at Dunnose Point. This tide, be¬
ginning to ebb, is stopped and driven back again by the
main stream from Spithead, and this causes the second tide,
about 2 hours later, and 6 inches higher, than the first tide.
Low water is about 3|- hours after the second tide-flood.
These “ double tides” are very valuable to the port, as they
allow an additional two hours for docking and undocking
ships. The mean rise of water is 18 feet at spring-tides,
and 8 feet at neap tides. The tides here are highest about
48 hours after the full and new moon. In the Hamble
estuary, which falls into Southampton Water about 5 miles
below the town, the flood-tide remains stationary for two
hours. At low water extensive mud-banks are left bare
on each side of Southampton Water, but the anchorage in
the offing is good, with nearly 4 fathoms of water at spring-
ebb ; and the clear-way within the buoys is deep, and
about half a mile broad.
Statistics of The number of ships which entered the docks during the
shipping. year en{]}ng 3ist March 1859 was as follows:—Entered
inwards, 1017 ships, 323,361 tonnage; outwards, 918 ships,
323,965 tonnage. The value of exports is upwards of six
millions; duties received, L.127,072.
The manufacture for which this town is most noted is
that of carriages, of which above 500 are annually built here,
and exported to all parts of the world. This branch of indus¬
try is chiefly indebted for its local celebrity to Mr Andrews,
the late patriotic mayor of Southampton, and a very suc¬
cessful coach-builder. The requirements of the numerous
steam-ships frequenting the port have naturally led to the
establishment of engineering works (of which there are
several) for the manufacture and repair of machinery and
iron-vessels. These works employ a great number of skilled
mechanics, of whom a large proportion are Scotch ; and as
the majority of the engineers afloat were bred on the
Clyde, it will be perceived that Scotchmen muster very
strongly in Southampton.
Southampton has a mild climate, and a rain-fall somewhat
above the average, although the number of rainy days is
not so great as in most parts of England. There is a
marked difference between the air of the lower portion of
the town and that of the higher; the former being moist
SOU
453
Manufac¬
tures.
Climate.
and relaxing, and occasionally redolent of exhalations rising Southcott.
from the mud-banks exposed at low-water. The upper part
of the town, and more especially the suburbs oi Portswood,
Highfield, and Bassett, enjoy a much drier and purer atmo¬
sphere, partly due to the gravelly nature of the soil, which
admits of quick surface-drainage.
The population of Southampton, according to the census Population
of 1851, was 35,305, exclusive of the suburbs, which, as
we have seen, are very numerous. As the town has been
rapidly increasing since that time, the population of the
borough is now calculated (in 1860) to amount to 45,000;
and if we include the surrounding neighbourhood, it is pro¬
bable that a population of 50,000 souls is not in excess of
the reality.
Though not of Roman origin, Southampton is still a History
place of great antiquity, and probably may date its risean? antl*
from the decay of the Roman station Clausentum, at Bit- ^U1 1
terne, on the opposite side of the river Itchen, about 1£
miles N.E. of the town. Its name was probably derived
from Anton, the ancient name of the river Test, whose es¬
tuary forms the upper part of Southampton Water, the latter
being supposed to represent the Antona mentioned by
Tacitus. In Doomsday Book the town is spelt Hantun,
the prefix South probably arising from its relative position
to Northam, a hamlet within the borough, on the banks of
the Itchen, opposite the Roman Clausentum, and believed
to be the oldest part of Southampton. The earliest men¬
tion of the town occurs in the Saxon Chronicle, from
which it appears that it was attacked by the Danes in 873,
who landed here from 33 vessels; but after committing
many atrocities, they were repulsed and driven back to
their ships. All the more interesting remains of antiquity
(with the exceptions of the Bar-gate and St Michael’s
Church) stretch along the shore of Southampton Water,
where a strong castle, the remains of which are still extant,
protected the town from the land side. That wise and
pious Danish monarch Canute, when he became king of
England, had a palace at Southampton, and here it was
that he reproved the impious flattery of his courtiers. The
ancient town, comprising about one-sixth part only of the
present town and suburbs, was surrounded by an embattled
wall of 1J miles in circumference, having several gates and
posterns. The greater part of these fortifications have long
since been cleared away, but many interesting portions still
remain. The Bar-gate, which crosses the High Street, was
the principal entrance into the town from the north. It is a
large and handsome tower-gateway, which appears to have
been repeatedly strengthened and altered, in many different
styles of architecture, since its first erection by the Nor¬
mans. On the projecting buttresses are two paintings,
executed more than 180 years ago, and representing the
Saxon knight Sir Bevois, and his gigantic squire Ascupart,
who figure conspicuously in the legendary history of South¬
ampton. (Ri M Y*)
SOUTHCOTT, Joanna, an English fanatic, was born
in Devonshire about 1750. She was employed originally as a
domestic servant; but having been an adherent of the Me¬
thodists, she, at about the age of 40, set up for a prophetess.
She wrote, dictated, and rhymed prophecies, and announced
herself as the woman spoken of in the 12th chapter of the
Revelation. She published her unintelligible jargon to the
world, and, strange to say, her followers soon swelled out
to the number of 100,000. When beyond the age of 60, she
announced that she was to be delivered of a “ Second Shi¬
loh” on the 19th October 1814. Herfanatical dupes, in great
numbers, stood watching round her door, day and night, till
the 19th passed away; but “ Shiloh” failed to appear,
and it was announced to the multitude that the prophetess
had fallen into a trance. She died of dropsy on the 27th
December 1814. Her followers have now (I860) dwindled
down to an almost nominal existenee. She declared a
454 SOU SOU
Southern short while before her death, that “ if she was deceived, she the schools which he had attended, and the partial incorn- Southey.
0 was at all events misled by some spirit, either good or evil.” petence perhaps of his teachers, all combined to render him
Southey. 0urjous to sav ber most substantial supporter was William anything but a dab at Latin verse-making. This was a
Sharp, the eminent engraver. (See Sharp.) sufficient drawback to prevent his shining at Westminster.
SOUTHERN, Thomas, an English dramatist, was born Add to all this, that his satirically jocular paper in the Fla-
at Oxmantown, in the county of Dublin, in 1660, and re- gellant, a school-journal, on corporal punishment, brought
ceived his education in Trinity College. He came young to down upon his head the stupid wrath of Dr Vincent, the
London to study law; but instead of that, devoted himself superior of the school, and led to his dismissal in 1792.
to poetry and the writing of plays. Persian Prince wa.s, The ill fame of his poor paper in the Flagellant preceded
introduced in 1682, when the Tory interest was triumphant him to Oxford; and on his presenting himself at Christ
in England ; and the character of the Loyal Brother being Church, the virtuous dean, Cyril Jackson, refused to admit
intended to compliment James Duke of York, he rewarded him. On the whole, on whose side soever the fault lay,
the author when he came to the throne with a commission Southey until now had a poor enough time of it. But the
in the army. On the Revolution taking place, he retired light that “ne’er was seen on land or sea” haunted his
to his studies, and wrote several plays, from which he is dreams ; the thirst for fame almost maddened him ; and he
supposed to have derived a very handsome subsistence, burned to be of age, that he might by the might of his
being the first who raised the advantage of play-writing to pen carve his way to renown. His education had been
a second and third night. The most finished of all his plays paid for at Westminster by his maternal uncle, Rev. Herbert
are the Fatal Marriage and Oroonoko, which is founded on Hill, and he now entered Balliol College, Oxford, with the
a true story related in one of Mrs Behn’s novels. Southern ostensible design of entering the church. Ihe French re¬
died in 1746, in the 86th year of his age; the latter part volution was now casting its fiery glare on all lands, red-
of which he spent in peaceful serenity, having, by his com- dened by the fierceness of political rancour and by the bitter
mission as a soldier, and the profits of his dramatic works, animosity of religious zeal. Freedom, both in action and
acquired a handsome fortune, and being an exact econo- in thought, was the watchword of the revolutionists ; liberty
mist, he improved what fortune he gained to the best ad- of the most impossible kind, was the cry echoed back to
vantage. His plays were printed in 3 vols. 12mo. in 1774. them by the European people. That young Southey, with
SOUTHEY, Robert, a poet-laureate of England, and his eager passions, should be caught in the fervour of this
a singularly industrious man of letters, was the son of a frenzied whirlpool is nothing very strange. 1 he writings
linen-draper at Bristol, where he was born on the 12th of of Rousseau were then in every one’s mouth ; and why
August 1774. His ancestors were yeomen of Somerset- should not the more arduous youth of Oxford exercise
shire; and as they bore arms of a religious character, he their logic on his propositions, as well as on those of the
indulged in the fancy that, in distant crusading times, a academic Stagyrite ? Southey exercised his right of free-
Southey may have broken a spear with the infidel on the thinking on all manner of subjects, political, social, reli-
plains of Palestine. During his childhood, books were a gious. Meanwhile he wrote verses by the thousand, and
very rare commodity. The small paternal cupboard that read books by the heap. The church, the state, all offices
contained the family crystal likewise found a place for all of society were shut against him, from the wrong-headed
the books the linen-draper possessed. His aunt, however, violence of his opinions. It was in these circumstances
a foolishly eccentric lady, who had a passion for theatricals, that he formed the grand design, with Coleridge,^ Lovell,
and with whom he spent the most of his youth, duly,.intro- and some others, of establishing a “ Pantisocracy ” on the
duced him to the giants of the drama. A neighbouring banks of the Susquehannah in North America. Laws,
library of some hundreds of volumes was likewise laid under selfishness, discord would be unknown words in their patri-
contribution during his holidays ; and on this rare feast he archal home beyond the Atlantic. Primeval innocence
revelled almost unconscious of the passing weeks. The was to harmonize with all the graceful refinements of Eu-
recital of Chevy Chase brought water into his eyes at three ropean society: the male members of this select commu-
years of age, and he continued to live in a kind of waking nity were to till the ground which their joint contributions
dream with the characters which the wand of Shakspeare, had purchased, while their wives were to engage their
of Beaumont and Fletcher, of Tasso, of Ariosto, of Spen- fair hands in the necessary domestic duties. The truth
ser, of Camoens, of Homer, of Sidney, and of Chatterton was, that the three dreamers had married three sisters,
had summoned into palpable existence from the charmed named Fricker, in the town of Bristol. Cottle, a Bristol
spirit-world. Southey’s school-life was, according to con- publisher, who had just bought Southey’s Joan of Arc,
ventional notions, the most unsatisfactory that could well written in 1793, for fifty guineas, was let into their secret,
be conceived. He was constantly changing his instructors, The honest bookseller inquired, in trepidation, when they
who as regularly proved the most incorrigible tyrants a would sail. A laconic epistle from Coleridge dispelled his
child-poet could meet with. He passed through the hands fears. “ My dear sir,” wrote the pantisocratist, “ can you
of a whole half-dozen of masters who were nearly all cruel conveniently lend me five pounds ?” Cottle dispatched
and hard-hearted. Perhaps the temperament of the youth the money with tears of joy. To such abrupt close came
had been too fine, or his sensibilities too delicate for the this sublime scheme for the regeneration of humanity, by
tear and wear of a public school. To set down whole six no means a new phenomenon in the history of the race,
schoolmasters in nearly unbroken succession as harsh and Southey had now quitted Oxford, partly from his reli-
inexorable, is more than a patient biographer can stomach, gious views, and partly from the withdrawal of his uncle’s
It must have been a sad age for the Bristol boys, if all support. After casting about him for a time, he came
was literally true that Southey wrote down in his autobio- pretty soon to the conclusion, that he would be compelled
graphy regarding their instructors. He had the misfor- “ perforce to enter the muster-roll of authors.” He did
tune to meet an° awful dame at the age of six; next he not repine at his lot, rather secretly rejoiced in it. Mr
was ground by a cruel Baptist minister named Foot; after- Hill chancing to be in England at this time induced
wards he suffered much from a remarkable man named Southey to accompany him to Lisbon, where he held a
Fowler at Corston ; later he fell into the hands of Williams, chaplaincy. One of the designs of the clerical uncle was
a sarcastic Welshman; and after passing through the cle- accomplished by this journey, for Southey renounced his
rical superintendence of Lewis, he entered Westminster revolutionary tendencies; but the other, which was to per-
School in 1788. Here his fate was not more lucky than suade him to enter the church, proved entirely fruitless,
before. The irregularity of his school-life, the custom of After six months’ absence he returned to England in May
SOUTHEY.
455
, _ 1796. He had got up material for his Letters from Spam
,oU and Portugal, and he commenced writing io'c 'Coo, Monthly
Magazine. Meanwhile he wrote epics, tragedies, histones,
romances: nothing was deemed too aspiring for his towel¬
ing ambition. To secure a competence he resolved to
study law, and accordingly entered himself at Gray s inn,
on the 7th Feb. 1797. Whether or not he ever had any
serious intention of devoting himself to that dry and some¬
what severe mistress, he at all events soon deserted her in
the most unfeigned disgust. Wynn, his school-fellow at
Westminster, nobly offered him an annuity of L.lbO, wtncii
he frankly agreed to accept. Southey’s reputation was
meanwhile increasing with the publishers; he was busily
engaged in hammering his Madoc into shape, and had a -
ready another epic, Thalaba, on the anvil.
With all this toil, Southey had as yet made but a slight
impression on the public. His views of religion and poli¬
tics were gradually mellowing ; but the novel guise which
his poems assumed, his rejection of rhyme in their con¬
struction, and his frequent assaults upon all that England
had hitherto admired in the poetical art, could be got down
only with a considerable effort, even by those who most
admired the splendour of his imagination and the beauty of
his diction. To say truth, too, there was wanting in his verse
the evidence of that “diviner mind” of which Coleridge,
Shellev, and Keats had given such illustrious examples.
His poetry was certainly often opulent and even gorgeous,
but it wanted that nameless something which at once lends
a charm to all that a man writes, and lifts him up on the
ever-increasing admiration of the world to the very pre¬
sence of fame. The greatest fertility cannot give it, the
most artistic taste in the management of details cannot give
it, refined sensibility cannot give it, nothing but the sublime
gift of genuine vision, at once creative and natural, simple
and human, can make a man a genuine poet, whom men
will admire while the world lasts. Southey seems neither
to have known this nor to have felt it. He always speaks
with the strongest self-confidence, and not unfrequently
expresses a much higher opinion of his own claims to im¬
mortality, than the great majority of his readers will be in¬
clined to subscribe. “ It is not every one,” he says, “ that
can shoot with the bow of Ulysses, and the gentlemen who
thiii think they can bend the bow, because 1, make the stnng
~ J twang, will find themselves somewhat disappointed. His
historical powers he likewise rated much too highly. He
had not sufficient intensity of consciousness in looking at a
fact to see through it, before he handed it up to the ^ia_
gination to mould and fashion according to her will. As a
necessary consequence of this, he was deficient in reflective
power. It was entirely beyond his ability to present either
a living vital account of a great national movement, or to
gather up its discordant elements into a subtle and lofty
harmony. His prose was as much below the vigorous
though florid pictures of Gibbon, as his poetry was beneath
the Paradise Lost, to which he unblushingly compared it.
He worked with prodigious labour, and towards the end of
the year 1799 his health sank under the incessant energy
of his brain. Portugal was again tried in 1800, and with
the best effects. Taking up his abode at Cintra, he com¬
menced busily to collect materials for a History of Portu¬
gal. He returned to England with some reluctance m the
summer of the following year. Coleridge, who then occu¬
pied Greta Hall, near Keswick, wrote to Southey a glowing
description of the place, which so attracted his fancy, t lat
he ultimately settled in that charming spot. Before doing
so, he paid a visit to his old friend Wynn in North vvales,
where he found a letter awaiting him, offering him the situ¬
ation of secretary to the chancellor of the exchequei for
Ireland, with a salary of L.350 a year. 1 he chancellor
would have Southey teach his son, to fill up his spare time,
but the author of Thalaba indignantly refused, and threw
up “ a foolish office and a good salary, after he had held it Southey,
for six months. Henceforward he clung close to the pen
to the end of his life. Between writing and projecting
works and review articles, his time was wholly taken up. He
edited an edition of Chatterton’s works, in 3 vols., for the
poet’s sister, who was in great poverty, and had the grati¬
fication of handing over to her the sum of L.300, the Pro"
ceeds of his industry. This was only one of a thousand of
his generous acts performed to the needy and the dis¬
tressed. He aided the lamented Kirke White, James Du-
sautoy and Herbert Knowles, and was of much service to
Ebenezer Elliot in his early attempts to woo the Muse.
Gradually Southey became stationary at Keswick, by
the sheer weight of his vast and ever-accumulating library.
Unlike the Delos of ancient fable, and the floating island of
modern fact in the adjoining Lake of Derwentwater, here
he was rooted firm and fast to his moorings, by a cable
which time and its chances could not sever. W ith the
exception of occasional excursions to London or the con¬
tinent, generally with a party of friends, he now settled
down with great good-will to his books and to his pen.
Writing to a friend about this time he said—“ My actions
are as regular as St Dunstan’s quarter-boys. Three pages
of history after breakfast (equivalent to five in small quarto¬
printing) ; then to transcribe and copy for the press, or to
make my selections and biographies, or what else suits my
humour, till dinner-time; from dinner to tea I read, write
letters, see the newspapers, and very often indulge in a
siesta. After tea I go to poetry, and correct, and re-write,
and copy till I am tired, and then turn to anything else
till supper. And this is my life, which if it be, not a very
merry one, is yet as happy as heart could wish.” And so
he continued almost until the grave received him, toiling,
and cheerful until the end. In conjunction with his friend
Elmsley, he visited Scotland, and Sir Walter Scott in
1805. The great novelist received him very warmly, as
was his wont, and subsequently wrote to him, in 1807, to
secure his talents for the Edinburgh Review, to which he
himself occasionally contributed. But Southey, who in
his youth was the most radical reformer in England, had
now crystallized into one of the most rigid conserva¬
tives, did not relish the free manner in which the Edin¬
burgh reviewers treated all manner of subjects that came
within their reach; and he was particularly galled by the
very liberal criticism which Jeffrey had made on his Madoc
and Thalaba. He therefore begged to be excused from
entrusting the treasures of his mind to such rash pilotage.
A more congenial field for his occasional employment pre¬
sented itself shortly afterwards in the Quarterly Review.
The editor, Gifford, frequently made rough work of his
fine periods and moonshiny opinions, but this slashing-
mutilation was entirely owing (so Southey was pleased to
think) to the ignorance or ill-will of the unscrupulous
mentor. The Grenville ministry in 1807 gave him a pen¬
sion of L.200, but it was so reduced with taxes that it
amounted only, when it came to the poet s hands, to L.144.
In 1808 he engaged to write the history of Spanish affairs
for the Annual Register, published by Bannatyne m Edin¬
burgh, and next year he was asked to take up the historical
department generally, with an allowance of L.400 a-year.
But the affairs of Bannatyne did not admit of its con¬
tinuation ; and after a two years’ engagement, the publica¬
tion became defunct. Southey contributed no less than
126 articles to this periodical during his life, llie lau-
reateship having fallen vacant by the death of Pye m
1813, at the instigation of Sir Walter Scott, it was offered
to Southey. He became embroiled, at the close of the
war, in the general agitation of which English society was
then the theatre. He used all his endeavours to check
the riotous proceedings of the enraged mobs, and a portion
of society taunted him with the epithet of “ renegade,
/
456
SOU
S 0 z
Southey. an(j actually published his Wat Tyler, an inflammatory
's—production of his hot youth. The gust blew over, and peace
came; and as a solatium to Southey, he had conferred
upon him the honorary degree of LL.D. by the University
of Oxford in 1820. This was mainly gained for him by
his Book of the Church. His Roderick, the last of the
Goths, was received with favour on the continent. It was
partly translated into Dutch by Mrs Bilderdijk, whom
Southey visited in the summer of 1825. During his
absence he had, through the influence of Lord Radnor,
been elected parliamentary representative of Downton,
but the property qualification did not permit of his accept¬
ing it. In 1829, by the marriage of Miss Coleridge, she
and her mother left Southey’s roof, where they had found
shelter for six-and-twenty years. In 1834, the poet re¬
ceived L.300 a year from government, on the recommen¬
dation of Sir Robert Peel. That eminent statesman had
previously failed in his endeavour to have Southey made a
baronet, by reason of the smallness of his income. His
books only gained a very tardy sale, and he was at times
careless of his resources, in increasing his already vast
library. He lost the companion of his life on the 16th
November 1837. She had for some years previous to her
death been labouring under mental derangement. This
was probably attributable to the mental anxiety to which
she had been exposed. The grave had not well closed
over her, when mental prostration overcame the poet him¬
self. His memory failed, his recognition of time and place
gave way, and the strongest symptoms of mental alienation
manifested themselves. He travelled in Normandy and
Brittany, he married Caroline Bowles the poetess, he wan¬
dered about in the most helpless condition, and gradually
becoming weaker and weaker, he died on the 21st March
1843. Southey rests, with his beloved Edith Pricker, in
the quiet little churchyard of Crosthwaite, adjoining the
town of Keswick.
Since Southey’s death there have been published by
Warter in 1856, 4 volumes of his common-place books,
&c., and 4 volumes of his letters. His life has been written
by his son, the Rev. Charles Cuthbert Southey, in 6 vols.,
1849-50. The following is supposed to be a tolerably
complete list of Dr Southey’s works, condensed from the
English Cyclopaedia:—
Poems, in conjunction with his friend Lovell, 1 vol. 8vo, in 1794.
Joan of Arc, an Epic Poem, 4to, 1795. Minor poems, 2 vols. 8vo,
1797. Letters written during a short residence in Spain and Portu¬
gal, 1 vol. 8vo, 1799 and 1800. The Annual Anthology, 2 vols. 8vo;
Thalaba the Destroyer, a Metrical Romance, 2 vols. 12mo, 1801.
Amadis de Gaul, a prose translation from the Spanish version, by
Garcia Ordonez de Montalvo, 4 vols. 12mo, 1803. The works of
Thomas Chatterton (in conjunction with Amos Cottle), 3 vols. 8vo,
1803 ; Metrical Tales and other Poems, 8vo, 1805. Madoc, a Poem,
in two parts, 4to. Specimens of the Later English Poets, with Pre¬
liminary Notices, 3 vols. 8vo, 1807. Palmerin of England, trans¬
lated from the Portuguese, 4 vols. 8vo ; Letters from England, by
Don Manuel Velasquez Espriella (pseudonymous), 3 vols. 12mo;
Remains of Henry Kirke White, with an Account of his Life, 2 vols.
8vo; The Chronicle of the Cid, Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, from the
Spanish, 4to, 1808. The Curse of Kehama, a Poem, 4to ; The His¬
tory of Brazil, vol. i., 4to, 1810. Omniana,2 vols. 8vo, 1812. Life
of Nelson, 2 vols. 8vo, 1813. Carmen Triumphale for the commence¬
ment of the year 1814, and Carmina Aulica, 1 vol. 4to; Roderick,
the last of the Goths, 4to, 1814. Minor Poems, 3 vols., 1815. The
Lay of the Laureate ; Carmen Nuptiale, 12mo; A Poet’s Pilgrimage
to Waterloo, 8vo; Specimens of later British Poets, 1816. Wat
Tyler, a Dramatic Poem (written in a vein of ultra-Jacobinism, in
1794, and now surreptitiously published), 12mo; A Letter to Wil¬
liam Smith, Esq., M.P. (on the subject of the preceding publication),
8vo ; Morte d’Arthur {a reprint of Sir Thomas Malory’s prose
romance), with Introduction and Notes, 2 vols. 8vo; History of
Brazil, vol. ii., 4to, 1817 ; and vol. iii., 4to, 1819. Life of John
Wesley, 2 vols. 8vo, 1820. A Vision of Judgment, a Poem, 4to;
The Expedition of Orsua and the Crimes of Aguirre, 12mo, 1821.
Remains of Henry Kirke White, vol. iii., 8vo, 1822. History of the
Peninsular War, vol. i., 4to (an expansion of what had been
originally published in the Edinburgh Annual Register, 1810 &c.) <s0
The Book of the Church, 2 vols. 8vo, 1824. A Tale of Paraguay (a U 11^°™
Poem), 12mo, 1825. Vindicice Ecclesice Anglicance, &c., 8vo, 1826. So
History of the Peninsular War, vol. ii., 4to, 1827. Sir Thomas More, \ enUS
or Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society, &c., 2 vols. "
8vo; All for Love, or the Sinner Well Saved; and The Pilgrim to
Compostella, or A Legend of a Cock and a Hen, 12mo, 1829. Life
of John Bunyan, prefixed to an edition of the Pilgrim’s Progress
1830. Attempts in Verse by John Jones ; with Introductory Essay
on the Lives and Works of our Uneducated Poets, 8vo; Selections
from the Poems of Robert Southey, Esq., LL.D., 12mo ; Select Works
of British Poets, from Chaucer to Jonson, edited with Biographical
Notices, 1 vol. royal 8vo, 1831. Essays Moral and Political, 2 vols.
8vo ; Selections from Southey, prose, 12mo ; History of the Peninsu¬
lar War, vol. iii., 4to, 1832. Naval History of England, vol i.
12mo (in Lardner’s Cabinet Cyclopaedia), completed in 5 vols.,
1840. Dr Watt’s Poems, with a Life of the Author (in Cattermole’s
Sacred Classics), 12mo, 1834. The Doctor (anonymous), vols. i. and
ii., 8vo, 1834 ; vol. iii., 8vo, 1835 ; vols. iv. and v., 8vo, 1837.
The Works of William Cowper, with a Life of the Author, vol. i.,
12mo, completed in 15 vols. in 1837 and 1838. The Poetical Works
of Robert Southey, collected by himself, 10 vols. 12mo, 1837 ; to
which may be added the eight volumes of Letters, &c., published
by Warter since his death. (j. d—s.)
SOUTHPORT, a village of England, in Lancashire,
at the mouth of the Ribble, 20 miles N. of Liverpool.
It is a favourite watering-place, and has some broad streets
and handsome houses, two chapels, a theatre, news-room,
library, and school. Pop. 4765.
SOUTHWARK, a parliamentary borough in the city
of London, on the south bank of the Thames, in the
county of Surrey. It returns two members to the House
of Commons. See London.
Southwark, a suburb of Philadelphia, which see.
SOUTHWELL, a market-town of England, in the
county and 14 miles N.E. of Nottingham. It is a strag¬
gling town, but generally well built, and has four main
streets. The church of St Mary, an ancient edifice, partly
Norman, and partly early English, was restored in 1804.
It is cruciform, and large and imposing in its appearance.
A low massive tower rises from the centre, and two lofty
ones of seven storeys from the west end. The tombs and
effigies of several archbishops of York and other prelates
are in this church; and in the vicinity are the ruins of an
old palace of the archbishops of York, which was a favourite
residence of Cardinal Wolsey, and was at one time occupied
by Charles I. Southwell has also a district church and
several other places of worship, a number of schools, theatre,
assembly rooms, jail, poor-house, &c. Brick, tiles, and
cotton stockings are manufactured in the vicinity ; and
there is also a large silk-mill. Population of the parish, 3516.
SOUTHWOLD, a seaport-town of England, county of
Suffolk, near the mouth of the Blyth, 11 miles south of
Lowestoff. It consists chiefly of a long line of houses, some
of which are good, but the majority of an inferior description.
The parish church is old and handsome, containing much
elegant carving. There is a harbour formed by two piers
at the mouth of the Blyth, and there are two batteries for
the defence of the town. Fishing forms the main occupa¬
tion of the inhabitants ; but they also depend very much
on those who visit it for the sake of sea-bathing. In
Southwold or Sole Bay a naval engagement took place
between the British and the combined French and Dutch
fleets, May 1672, in which the Earl of Sandwich was blown
up in his ship. Pop. of parish, 2109.
SOVEREIGN, the name applied to the person or per¬
sons who preside over every society which is not habi¬
tually in a state of nature or of anarchy. The marks of
sovereign power are, that the ruled profess a habit of obe¬
dience to the ruler, while the ruler professes no such habit.
SOZOMENUS, Hermias, an ecclesiastical historian of
the fifth century, was born at Gaza or Bethelia, in Pales¬
tine. He was educated for the law, and became a pleader
at Constantinople. He wrote an abridgment of Ecclesias-
SPA
gpa tical History, in two books, from the ascension of our
|| Saviour to the year 323. This compendium is lost; but a
Ipain. continuation of it in nine books, written at greater length,
down to the year 439, is still extant. He seems to have
copied Socrates, who wrote a history of the same period.
The style of Sozomenus is perhaps more elegant; but in
other respects he falls far short of that writer, displaying
throughout his whole book an amazing credulity and a
superstitious attachment to monks and the monastic life.
His work, with those of Eusebius and Socrates, was pub¬
lished by R. Stephanus in 1544, by H. Valesius at Paris in
1668, and by Reading at Cambridge in 1720. All these edi¬
tions are in folio. Several others have likewise appeared. An
English version of Sozomenus has been published by Wal-
ford, 1854.
SPA, or Spaa, a market-town and watering-place of
Belgium, in a wild rugged country, in the province and 16
miles south of Liege. It is well built, and consists almost
SPA
That the Spanish Peninsula was peopled at a very early
period seems abundantly certain, but by whom it would be
vain to inquire. The earliest inhabitants whom history
makes known to us were the Iberians, a race probably of
Asiatic origin. At some period lost in the depths of
antiquity, the Celts, amid their wide-spread migrations,
penetrated into the peninsula; and although they seem
at first to have contended with the Iberians for the sove¬
reignty of the soil, the two races at length amalgamated, and
assumed the common name of Celtiberians. They were
split into numerous tribes or clans, each of which occupied
its own particular territory.
The fertility and mineral wealth of the country led the
Rhodians and Phoenicians to establish colonies here at a
very early period ; but the Carthaginians were the first to
obtain a firm footing in it. Under the pretext of commerce,
they established themselves on the coast of Cadiz, whence
they pushed their conquests into the interior as well as
along the coast, till they at length made themselves masters
of the whole of Baetica or Andalusia. The Spaniards were
roused to resistance, but it was too late. Hamilcar, the
father of Hannibal, succeeded in overrunning a consider¬
able part of the country, and bringing it, at least nominally,
under subjection to Carthage, 238 B.c. He extended his
conquests towards Murcia, Valencia, and Catalonia, in the
latter of which provinces he founded the city of Barce¬
lona. This conqueror having perished in a battle fought
with some of the native tribes, was succeeded by his son-
in-law Asdrubal, who built the port of New Carthage, now
called Carthagena. The rapid strides which the Carthagi¬
nians had made towards the total subjugation of the Penin¬
sula aroused the fears of the Greek colonies situated on the
coast of Catalonia and Valencia, and alarmed those tribes
in the interior who still stoutly maintained their independ¬
ence. Too weak to make head against Carthage them¬
selves, they applied to the Romans for assistance. This
great nation had long regarded with a jealous eye the grow¬
ing prosperity of its rival Carthage, and eagerly embraced
the cause of the discontented states. In the character of
ally and prqjector, Rome sent a deputation to Carthage,
and obtained from its senate two important concessions ;
that the Carthaginians should not extend their conquests
beyond the Ebro ; and that they should not disturb the
Saguntines and the other Greek colonies. These condi¬
tions, however, did not correspond with the gigantic designs
of Asdrubal, whose purpose was to subdue the whole of
Spain before Rome could send succours to the confederates ;
but when marching against Saguntum, one of the most
flourishing cities of the Peninsula, and an ally of Rome,
VOL. xx.
SPA 457
altogether of inns and lodging-houses. The town derives Spacca-
its chief importance from its medicinal water, which is forno
more impregnated with iron than that of any other spring g j|in>
known. This water is not only much used on the spot, y. ^
but exported in considerable quantities. Over the principal
spring is built a pump-room; and in the vicinity is the
Redoute, an edifice containing a coffee-house, theatre,
ball-room, and gambling-rooms. The town has also several
churches, a town-hall, hospital, and barracks. Some manu¬
factures are carried on, especially of linen and cotton cloth,
leather, snuff-boxes, &c. Pop. 3969.
SPACEAFORNO, or Spaccafurno, a town of Sicily,
near the mouth of the Bufardone, on the south coast of
the island, in the province and 29 miles west of Syracuse.
It stands in a very fertile region, but is itself a poor town,
though containing several churches and convents. 1 here
are salt-pans on the neighbouring coast, and there is some
trade carried on in the town. Pop. 9000.
I N.
he was assassinated by a slave; and the chief command
passed into the hands of Hannibal, then in his twenty-fifth
year, and greatly esteemed for his valour and his talents.
After having conquered the kingdom of Toledo, this re¬
nowned general laid siege to Saguntum with his whole
force, which is said to have amounted to 150,000 men.
The Romans lost much time in fruitless attempts at ne¬
gotiation, and failed to send prompt succour to its faithful
ally. The consequence was, that after a vigorous defence,
the Saguntines were so reduced by hunger and fatigue,
that they retired from the walls into the centre of the city,
where they amassed all their valuable effects, and every¬
thing combustible, into one vast pile. Placing their wives
and children around it, they themselves issued from the
gates, and plunged, sword in hand, into the midst of the
Carthaginians. The slaughter was prodigious on both sides,
but in the end the Saguntines were cut off almost to a
man. No sooner was their fate known in the city than
their wives set fire to the pile, and precipitated themselves
and their children into the devouring element. T^us
perished Saguntum, one of the largest and most flourishing
cities of Spain ; and its destruction may be regarded as
the opening of the second Punic war. Of the contests
carried on between the Carthaginians and the Romans,
till the final subjugation of the former, and the consequent
incorporation of its tex'ritories with the Roman empire, an
account will be found under the articles Carthage and
Roman History. We shall here only notice such leading
events as are necessary to give connection to our narrative.
Two centuries were required by Rome to effect the
total subjugation of Spain, that is, from the first invasion
of the country by Cneus Cornelius Scipio, in the year 218
B.C., till the last tribes, the Cantabrians and Asturians, laid
down their arms to Augustus in the year 19 b.c. No other
conquest had cost Rome so much. The numbers who
perished in the field of battle, and the amount of treasure
sacrificed, are not to be calculated. At the same time,
scarcely any other acquisition was productive of so much
advantage to the state from the inexhaustible riches of the
country. After the destruction of the Carthaginian power
in Spain, this country was regarded as a Roman province,
received the name of Hispania, and was divided by
the senate into Citerior and Ulterior, or Hither and
Farther, the Ebro serving as a boundary between the
two. Each of these was governed by a praetor annu¬
ally appointed by Rome. The extortions of these
functionaries very soon became so oppressive to the
natives, that they at last resolved on attempting to
rid themselves of their unprincipled rulers. Viria-
3 M
458 S P A I N.
History, thus, a native of Lusitania, the most remarkable man in the
‘ vancient history of Spain, collected a considerable body of
malcontents, and took the field against the Romans. Not
only by stratagems and sudden surprises, but in regular
pitched battles, he succeeded in foiling the most valiant
officers of the Roman legions. For above eleven years he
bade defiance to the formidable hosts of the invader. To
subdue him by force of arms was found impossible, and the
base spirit of Q,. Servilius Csepio had recourse to treachery.
The offer of a magnificent recompense stimulated three
of the followers of Viriathus to assassinate him, which
bloody deed they accomplished whilst he lay asleep. It
is some consolation to record, that the murderers were dis¬
appointed of their reward, and dismissed from the Roman
camp with insults and contempt. The indomitable spirit of
independence which animated the Spaniards was not, how¬
ever, broken by the death of their great leader. The Nu-
mantians, in particular, still remained fiercely hostile to the
Romans, and the destruction of Numantia was decreed by
the senate. Scipio ^Emilianus, the conqueror of Carthage,
was appointed to the command of the legions destined for
this service, and the city was closely invested by a power¬
ful army. While food was left to the besieged, they defied
all the efforts of the Romans to take their city. Famine
however humbled them into submission, and they sued for
mercy, but in vain. Driven to desperation, the wretched
remains of the defenders issued from the gates, and fell with
fury upon the Roman intrenchments ; but they were forced
back within the walls. iEmilianus had formed the cruel
resolution of starving them into an unconditional surrender.
Rather than yield to this, the Numantians determined, in
imitation of the Saguntines, to make a sacrifice of them¬
selves, and of all that was valuable which they possessed.
This resolution they carried into effect under circumstances
even more shocking than those which accompanied the de¬
struction of Saguntum. When the victor entered the city,
not a human being remained alive to grace his triumph;
nothing met his eyes but smouldering ruins and a horrible
solitude. This event took place in the year 133 b. c.
After the destruction of Numantia, three fourths of the
Peninsula submitted to Rome; and nothing very remarka¬
ble occurs in its history till the time of the civil war between
Marius and Sylla. The latter having crushed the Marian
faction, proscribed those who had taken a part in it, whom
he could not immediately destroy. Among these was Ser-
torius, who had px*eviously served in Spain as a tribune;
a man of great bodily and mental endowments, of con¬
summate valour, and experience in the art of war, but
whose ambition was equal to his nobler gifts. Having es¬
caped to Spain, he there succeeded in gaining over to his
interest several of the native tribes, raised a considerable
army, and routed the Roman legions in repeated engage¬
ments. He introduced a strict order of discipline among
his troops, founded public schools, constituted a senate in
imitation of that of Rome, and attempted to establish in
Spain a rival sovereignty to that of Italy. But, in the
midst of these brilliant though ambitious undertakings,
Sertorius was basely assassinated by his subaltern Perpenna,
in the year 73 b. c. With the death of this great captain
expired the last faint glimmer of national independence.
Pompey, and afterwards Julius Caesar, reduced most of
the native tribes to subjection. After the fall of Pom¬
pey in Africa, his eldest son selected Spain as the fittest
scene for opposing the dreaded dictator. For the fourth
time, Caesar hastened to the Peninsula, and, on the plains of
Munda, gained a bloody but decisive victory over the younger
Pompey, who was slain in attempting to effect his escape
from the country. Augustus, the successor of Caesar,
effectually secured the dominion of Rome over Spain, hav¬
ing reduced the Asturians, Galicians, and Cantabrians,
the bravest and most warlike of the native tribes. Spain
now began to rest from the continual wars with which it History,
had been devastated from the period of the Carthaginian
conquest, and quietly submitted to the domination of Rome,
from which it received its religion, its laws, its manners, and
its language.
It has already been noticed that the country was at first
divided into two provinces, Citerior and Ulterior, between
which flowed the Ebro as the natural boundary. With the
advance of the Romans the size of the provinces increased,
but it is impossible to define their exact limits before the
time of Augustus. This emperor, less desirous of effecting
new conquests than of securing the old, made arrangements
for improving the condition of the whole peninsula. Out
of the two provinces he formed three, and gave them the
names of Tarraconensis, Lusitania, and Baetica. Under
the pretext of saving time and trouble to the senate, but
really for the purpose of retaining power over the whole
army in his own hands, he undertook the management of
two of the provinces, in which, on account of the pretended
insecurity of their situation, a considerable number of troops
was maintained. Only Baetica came under the direct con¬
trol of the senate. A proconsul, who had his seat at His-
palis, was installed governor of this province, but without
any military power; whilst in the imperial provinces, a
legatus Augustalis in Emerita, and a legates proconsularis
in Tarraconensis exercised complete civil and military
authority. Subsequently the province conceded to the
senate fell entirely under the sway of the emperor, when
the governor received the name of praeses or president.
The districts being very extensive, it was found necessary
to appoint inferior officers; under the legate of Lusitania
was placed a vice-legatus militaris, and there were three
placed under the consular legates of Tarraconensis. A
legate and a quaestor were subject to the proconsul of Baetica.
In this manner the country as a whole was divided. Let
us now take a glance of the constitution and condition of
the towns.
After the complete subjugation of the Peninsula, the co¬
horts, composed principally of the natives of the country,
were transplanted to the most distant parts of the empire,
while Roman legions were sent into Spain to supply their
place. No arrangement could have been made that was
better calculated to give a Roman impress to the character
of the people, and to their manners, customs, and establish¬
ments. In the interior of the country, towns purely Roman
sprung up, small tracts of country having been conferred on
soldiers as a reward for their services. Thus the town of Leon
is indebted for its name and origin to the seventh legion, which
settled there; and in the same manner arose Emerita Augus¬
ta (Merida), Pax Julia (Beja), Caesar Augusta (Saragossa),
and many others. Originally, most of the cities managed
their own affairs; but when Caracalla declared all his subjects
throughout his vast empire Roman citizens, the constitutions
of the cities of Spain were made uniform with those of the
other cities of the empire. Rome, the capital, was the great
type to which they all conformed. For purposes of general
police, and for the superintendence of public works, for¬
tresses, entertainments, and the like, sediles w'ere appointed
in provincial towns, whose office, however, was one more of
pomp and honour than emolument. The affairs of the cities
were universally administered by a council or curia, the
members of which, called decuriones, were chosen from
among the richest and most respectable of thd inhabitants.
As advocates or defenders of the people, there were the
defensores civitatum, who neither belonged to the body of
the decurions nor to the army, but formed rather a sort of
check upon these, and resisted the encroachments of power
on the rights of the citizens. We pass over a number of
other subordinate functionaries, whose duties are either im¬
perfectly known, or, where known, of minor importance.
AH matters not cognizable by the legal tribunals, nor af-
SPAIN.
459
History, fecting the interest of the emperor, were discussed in the
—V”*''assembly of the decurions. For all important affairs, such
as those affecting the welfare of the whole district, the de¬
curions of the principal city of a province could call a ge¬
neral assembly, concilium, to which the other towns sent
plenipotentiaries. Long after the comitia had ceased to
exist in Rome, the province enjoyed the privilege of calling
together such meetings ; and they served at the same time
as a means of making known their wants to the emperor.
Of all the provinces incorporated with the Roman em¬
pire, there was not one productive of so much gain, not
one in which such inexhaustible sources of wealth were dis¬
covered, as the Pyrenean Peninsula. Mines, rich in the pre¬
cious metals,1 satisfied the thirst of the Romans for gold;
and a soil nowhere surpassed in productiveness filled their
granaries with corn. During the republic the Peninsula
was laid under the obligation of supplying the capital of
the empire with the twentieth part of its corn harvests.
The price paid for the grain was fixed by the Roman se¬
nate itself, a convenient way of obtaining cheap provisions.
While Spain continued to be ravaged by war, the Ro¬
mans did not in general bind themselves to a regular sys¬
tem of taxation, but only drew as much from the Peninsula
as it was convenient for it to pay at the time; but when
the conquest of the country was completed, a fixed rate of
taxation was introduced. Consequently, after Augustus
had divided Spain in the manner which we have describ¬
ed, the senate sent quaestors into the provinces to collect
the taxes. In those provinces placed under the imme¬
diate control of the emperor, there were procurators em¬
ployed ; and functionaries of this class were also appoint¬
ed to look after the monies received by the officers of the
senate, the application of the whole being under the entire
management of the emperor. These procurators were like¬
wise extremely useful in preventing the subordinates from
defrauding the emperor. By degrees their number increas¬
ed, so that ultimately there came to be procurators, not only
for the collective income of a province, but for separate
branches of the taxes.
In Spain, as well as throughout the whole Roman em¬
pire, the taxes consisted of a capitation and a land tax;
but by degrees, more from the extravagance of the empe¬
rors than from the necessities of the state, the people came
to be burdened with a multitude of other imposts. The
towns had their own particular estates and incomes, inde¬
pendent of those of the government, and which were ma¬
naged by the civic authorities themselves. These served
to defray the expenses of erecting public establishments,
building fortresses, and instituting games. The contribu¬
tion to the state taxes paid by the towns was levied by
the magistrates from the inhabitants, in exact proportion to
their wealth ; hence the taxes, although they continued to
rise, did not press with unequal and crushing weight upon
individuals and classes. Never was Spain so wealthy, so
populous, and so industrious, as during the first centuries
of the empire. Aqueducts, bridges, amphitheatres, and
other magnificent structures, even the ruins of some of which
posterity surveys with wonder, still bear testimony to the
flourishing condition of the country during that period.
When Constantine the Great assumed the purple, im¬
portant changes were introduced into the empire. From
the province of Tarraconensis he separated the governments
low: of Bsetica, Hispalis; of Lusitania, Emerita; of Galicia, History.
Bracara; of Tarraconensis, Caesar Augusta; of Carthagena,
New Carthage ; of the Balearic Isles, Palma ; and of Tin-
gitania, Tingis. The first three were placed under con¬
suls, and the others under presidents {jprccsides). Spain
was subject to the prefecture of Gaul, and over these local
governors was placed a vicar (wcam/s), whose administration
was chiefly confined to civil affairs, and the count {comes),
whose functions were of a military nature. Sometimes,
however, both the civil and military departments fell to the
vicar. We have yet to mention one important event con¬
nected with the Roman conquest of Spain, namely, the in¬
troduction of Christianity into the Peninsula. This took
place so early that the unanimous voice of tradition has as¬
cribed it to St James the elder ; and from the same autho¬
rity we also learn that St Paul preached “ Christ crucified”
to the idolaters of Spain. Of course little or no reliance is
to be placed on such statements ; but whether the apostles
or their successors propagated the gospel in these regions,
certain it is that Spain can adduce her martyrs as early as
the second century. There is abundant evidence to prove
the antiquity of the persecutions sustained by the Christians
of Spain, but our limits prevent us from entering into details.
The prosperity of the Peninsula began to decline after
the death of Constantine, a. d. 337. A species of tax in¬
troduced by Diocletian, which was made to fall with para¬
lysing weight on the middle or industrious classes, proved
so pernicious in its operation, that in a short time the coun¬
try presented the melancholy picture of deserted towns,
fields lying waste, fruit-trees uprooted from the soil, that
the possessors of the ground might lessen the value of their
property, and thus escape the taxes ; trade and manufac¬
tures at a stand; in short, nothing but desolation, poverty,
and misery, everywhere presented themselves. It only
required a strong impulse from without to overwhelm the
whole country in ruins. The last day of the year 406
marks the passage of the Vandals, Alans, Suevi, and
other Teutonic tribes, across the Rhine. From this river
to the Pyrenees, terror and dismay announced their ap¬
proach, death and destruction marked their progress. For
a time this great barrier of nature and of nations restrained
the roving bands, and the mountain-passes were at first well
guarded. But the prolific fields and wealthy mines of
Spain were too rich a prey not to be reached at all hazards.
Finding an opportunity, when negligence had weakened
the line of defence (409), they burst like a torrent through
the Pyrenean chain, and poured the tide of destruction from
its base to the Pillars of Hercules. Native historians of the
Peninsula describe the ravages committed by these barbari¬
ans as dreadful and revolting almost beyond parallel. The
very wild beasts quitted their lairs to prey upon the human
species, too emaciated by famine and pestilence to drive
them back. In a word, the country was turned into a de¬
sert ; and, satiated with carnage and rapine, the barbarians
sat down amidst its ruins and divided it by lot. Bsetica fell
to the Vandals, Lusitania to the Alans, and Galicia, with a
great portion of Leon and Castile, to the Suevi. Tarraconen-
sis alone seems still to have been retained by the Romans.
But a fourth people, more formidable than all the rest
combined, came to disturb the new settlers in their pos¬
sessions. These were the Goths under Ataulphus, to whom
Honorius, the Roman emperor, had ceded the fertile pro¬
of Carthagena and Galicia, thus making five provinces in vinces of Southern Gaul and the Peninsula. The Gothic
the Peninsula, viz., Tarraconensis, Carthagena, Galicia, Lu- monarch espoused Placidia, the emperor’s sister, in 414, and
sitania, and Baetica. Theodosius the Great erected the Bale- immediately proceeded to Barcelona, where, however, he
aric Isles into a province, and the African district of Tin- was shortly afterwards assassinated. His successor, Sigeric,
gitania was also reckoned another, so that there were seven a detestable monster, shared the same fate ; and the elec-
in all. The principal cities of these provinces were as fol- tion of the Goths now fell upon Wallia, a chief every way
1 Gibbon very justly observes, “ Spain, by a very singular fatality, was the Peru and Mexico of the old world. The discovery of the
rich western continent by the Phoenicians, and the oppression of the simple natives, who were compelled to labour in their mines for the
benefit of strangers, form an exact type of the more recent history of Spanish America.” Chap. vi.
460 SPAIN.
History, worthy of their choice. Peace being made with Rome,
'“““V"""' hostilities were vigorously commenced against the kindred
barbarians (418). The result of the war was the subjuga¬
tion of the Suevi, the total destruction of the Alans, and
the expulsion of the Vandals from Spain (427). But the
restless and powerful Suevi were scotched, not killed. Du¬
ring the reign of Theodoric, Wallia’s successor, they be¬
came formidable alike to the Romans and the Goths, and
made many important conquests in the neighbouring pro¬
vinces. Theodoric might easily have subdued them had
he not been summoned to encounter a far more terrible
antagonist, the renowned Attila, with his half million of
mounted Huns. The death of the Gothic monarch on the
plains of Chalons (451), the elevation of his son Thoris-
mund to the vacant throne, his assassination by his brothers,
and the elevation of the elder of the fratricides, Theodoric,
were events which closely followed each other. The reign
of the last-named prince was diversified by alternate suc¬
cess and disaster. The Peninsula, become one great battle¬
field to three contending hosts, the Goths, Romans, and
Suevi, was plunged in misery, and, from the Pyrenees to
the sea of Africa, was overspread with innumerable swarms,
which, like so many locusts, utterly destroyed the spots on
which they settled. While Theodoric was preparing to con¬
duct an army across the Pyrenees against Remismund, king
of the Suevi, he was assassinated by his brother Euric, in
his capital of Toulouse (466).
The reign of Euric was unusually brilliant and success¬
ful. He rendered himself absolute lord of the country, by
extinguishing the dominion of Rome in it, and completely
subjecting the Suevi. Euric was the first legislator of his
nation, and the founder of the Gothic kingdom of Spain;
for hitherto the country had rather been overrun than sub¬
dued. This prince died at Arles, the capital of his em¬
pire, A. D. 483. He was succeeded by his son Alaric, a
weak sovereign, who, after submitting pusillanimously to
many indignities, was overthrown in battle, and slain by
Clovis, king of the Franks (506). Amalaric, the son of
Alaric, being a minor, was for a time superseded by his
natural brother Gensaleic, but ultimately ascended the
throne (522). He was the first Gothic king who estab¬
lished his court in Spain. He fixed on the city of Seville.
From the death of this prince (531) till Recared I. became
king of the Goths (587), a few obscure royal names occur,
regarding whom it would be a mere waste of space to enter
into details. The chief act of this sovereign was to re¬
claim his subjects from the heresy of Arianism to orthodox
Catholicism. He died in 601. Of eleven monarchs who
followed, occupying a period of seventy years, none is in
any way remarkable. In 673, Wamba, a man distinguish¬
ed alike for wisdom, valour, and virtue, was raised, by the
unanimous voice of the Gothic electors, to the throne, left
vacant by the death of Receswind (672). The early part
of his reign was spent in quelling intestine war. During
the latter part of it he successfully cultivated the arts of
peace, and built a fleet for the protection of the coast; a
very wise precaution, for the Saracens had already begun to
swarm all over the sea of Africa. Had Wamba been succeed¬
ed by monarchs of equal prudence and activity, the scourge
of Saracenic domination, the greatest perhaps that ever af¬
flicted any people, would probably have been for ever avert¬
ed from Spain. In consequence of having sunk into a
death-like trance, in which state he was apparelled in the
garments of the grave, Wamba was compelled to relinquish
the crown (680).
One of the most celebrated names in the line of Gothic
princes is that of Roderick, who ascended the throne in
709. He owed his elevation to a party which rose against
his predecessor Witiza, whose two sons, with their relations,
Count Julian, governor of the Gothic possessions in Africa,
and Oppas, an archbishop, are supposed to have aided the
Saracens in their design of conquering the Peninsula. At History,
all events, the party which they formed against Roderick v'—-
weakened the Gothic monarchy, and thus gave encourage¬
ment to the Moors to make a descent on the country, which
they effected in 711. Roderick marshalled a large army,
amounting, it is said, to 90,000 men, and advanced against
the audacious infidel. The hosts met upon the plains of
Xeres, where was fought a battle, so bravely contested on
either side that it seems scarcely unworthy to have decided
the fate of a kingdom. For three days, from sunrise to
sunset, the embattled squadrons fought with equal ardour
and obstinacy, till victory at last declared for the Mahom-
medans. Roderick himself is believed to have perished in
the conflict, as he was never heard of more. By this de¬
cisive battle the Moors made themselves masters of near¬
ly the whole of Spain. The wretched remains of the Goths
retired into the mountainous parts of Asturias, Burgos, and
Biscay, where they maintained their independence, and
perpetuated their monarchy. In a few years their power
began to revive under the renowned Pelagio or Pelayo, a
prince of the royal blood. But before noticing the exploits
of this warrior, we shall take a brief view of the political,
civil, and religious condition of the people subject to the
Gothic monarchy.
The local divisions of Spain, as already laid down, under¬
went little or no change until some time after the descent
of the Mahommedans. The power possessed by the Gothic
kings was considerable; but its exercise was greatly con¬
trolled by the nobles, in general a fierce, turbulent, and
haughty body. The jurisdiction of the monarch was not
confined to affairs purely temporal. He nominated bishops,
presided, if he chose, at ecclesiastical tribunals, convoked
national councils, and regulated the discipline of the church.
Next to the king in civil dignity were the dukes, who ap¬
pear to have been governors of provinces. After them
came the counts, whose jurisdiction is supposed to have
been confined to particular cities. A number of other
functionaries were subordinate to these; and besides the
officers of the crown, each city or town had its municipal
council. Of course there were regular courts of law in¬
stituted throughout the country, where justice was adminis¬
tered ; the forms of procedure in these tribunals being
much the same as those practised in the Spanish courts at
the present day, but less tedious. There was a Visigoth
code of laws, partly of Gothic, partly of Roman origin. If
we pass from the civil to the military state of the country,
we find that the Goths were a nation of soldiers, the obli¬
gation of service being imperative on all freemen. After
the Gothic power was established in Spain, the constitu¬
tion of the church underwent important changes. The
pope was acknowledged as supreme head, and metropolitan
sees were formed, which exercised an ecclesiastical jurisdic¬
tion over the suffragan bishops. The bishops possessed an
irresponsible power over the rectors, displacing or removing
them at pleasure. The cathedrals and parish churches
were in general well endowed ; lay patronage existed, and
monasteries were introduced. As in other countries, the
ecclesiastical councils were of a threefold description, dio¬
cesan, provincial, and national, convoked respectively by
the bishop, the metropolitan, and the king. The Goths
present nothing of literature worthy of particular notice.
If we pass to the domestic arts, we find still less to admire;
in every thing they consulted the useful in preference to the
beautiful or magnificent. It is therefore to be concluded,
that however devout, temperate, honest, and sincere the
Goths might have been, as many historians attest, yet Spain
under their dominion made little advancement in civilization
and the elegant arts.
The Moors under Tarik and Musa subdued the fairest
portion of Spain, including the largest and strongest cities
of the kingdom, with a rapidity which shows how complete-
SPAIN.
461
History.
ly the power of the Goths was broken. Still many of them
' preferred independence under severe privations amidst the
wild rocks of the Asturias, to abundance and plenty on the
fertile plains of Murcia. At the head ot those who sought
a refuge in this mountain sanctuary was Pelayo, a prince
of royal Gothic blood, and who is recognised by Spanish
historians as having acceded to the throne in 718; fheo-
domir, the legitimate monarch,, having ingloriously submit¬
ted to the yoke of the infidel. Numbers of his countrymen
flocked to his standard, and his force became at length so
formidable as to create alarm in the Saracens. A large
army was despatched to the Asturias to crush the rising
insurrection ; but in attempting to gain the position where
Pelayo and his resolute followers were strongly posted, the
Moors were repulsed with a slaughter so terrible, that for
some years they showed no inclination to assail their for¬
midable neighbours. Various successes followed, and the
Asturias, now left in the undisturbed possession of Pelayo
and his band, became the asylum of the liberty and the re¬
ligion of the Christians in Spain. It formed the nucleus
of a kingdom, which was destined slowly but surely to in¬
crease in size from century to century, until the invaders
were finally expelled from the Peninsula. Little more is
known of Pelayo, than that he gained repeated victories
over the Moors, and died in peace in 737. He was suc¬
ceeded by his son Favila, whose reign was brief and his
end tragical, he having been killed by a wild boar in 739.
The subsequent history of Spain is rendered so confused
by the numerous kingdoms established by Christians and
Moors, that some chronological guide is necessary to ren¬
der it intelligible. We shall therefore present a chronolo¬
gical list of the various sovereigns who reigned over dif¬
ferent parts of the country, which had been erected into
distinct and independent sovereignties. The dates given
mark the years in which the sovereigns acceded to the
throne; the intervening periods, of course, indicate the du¬
ration of their respective reigns. We shall commence with
the Mahommedan succession, as during the earlier centu¬
ries the greater part of Spain was subject to the Moors.
MAHOMMEDAN RULERS OF SPAIN.—CORDOVA.
1. Emirs.—Tarik ben Zeyad and Musa ben Nozeir, 711.
Abdelasis ben Musa, 714. Ayub ben Habib and Alhaur
ben Abderahman, 715. Alsama ben Melic, 721. Abder-
ahman ben Abdalla, 722. Ambisa ben Sohim, 724. Ho-
deira ben Abdalla and Yahia ben Zulema, 726. Othman
ben Abi Neza, Hodeira ben Alhaus, and Alhaitam ben
Obeid, 727. Mohammed ben Abdalla, 728. Abderahman
ben Abdalla (second time), 729. Abdelmelic ben Cotan,
733. Ocba ben Albegag, 736. Abdelmelic ben Cotan
again, 741. Baleg ben Bakir, and Thalaba ben Sulema,
742. Husam ben Dhizar, 743. Thueba el Ameli, 744.
Yussuf el Fehri, 746.
2. Kings.—Abderahman I. ben Moawia, 755. Hixem
I. Abderahman, 787. Alhakem ben Hixem, 796. Abder¬
ahman II. ben Alhakem, 821. Mohammed I. ben Abder¬
ahman, 852. Almonahir ben Mohammed, 886. Abdalla,
brother of the former, 888. Abderahman III. grandson ot
Abdalla, 912. Alhakem, II. son of Abderahman III. 961.
Hixem II. ben Alhakem II., dethroned to make way for
his cousin Mohammed, but restored in 1010; in 1012 final¬
ly removed, 976. Suleyman, 1012. Ali ben Hamud, 1015.
Abderahman IV. 1017. Alcassim ben Hamud, brother of
Ali, 1018. Abderahman V., and Mohammed II. cousin of
Hixem II., 1023. Hixem III. brother of Abderahman IV.
1026. Gewahr ben Mohammed, 1031. Mohammed ben
Gewahr, 1044. Mohammed Almoateded, 1060. Moham¬
med Almosstadir, 1069. Dynasty of the Almoravides.—Yus-
sef ben Taxfin, 1094. Ali ben Yussef, 1107. Taxfin ben
Ali, 1144. Dynasty of the Abnohades.—Abdelmumen, 114/.
Yussef Abu Yacub, son of Abdelmumen, 1163. Yacub History,
ben Yussef, 1178. Mohammed, son of Yacub, 1199. Abu
Yacub, 1213. Abulmelic, and Abdelwahid son of Yacub,
1223. Almamon and Abu Ali, 1225.
KINGDOM OF GRANADA.
Mohammed I. Aben Alhamar, founder of the kingdom,
1238. Mohammed II. ben Mohammed, 1273. Moham¬
med III. Abu Abdalla, 1302. Nassir Abul Giux, brother
of the preceding, 1309. Ismail ben Ferag, nephew of Nas¬
sir, 1313. Mohammed IV. ben Ismail, 1325. Yussef
Abul Hagiag, brother of the former, 1333. Mohammed V.
ben Yussef, 1354. Ismail II. brother of Mohammed, 1359.
Abu Said, brother-in-law of Ismail II. 1360. Yussef II.
Abu Abdalla, son of Mohammed V. 1391. Mohammed
VI. son of Yussef II. 1396. Yussef, brother of Moham¬
med VI. 1408. Muley Mohammed VII. son of Yussef
HI. 1423. Mohammed VIII. cousin of Muley Moham¬
med VII. 1427. Mohammed VII. restored, 1429. Yussef
IV. Aben Alhamar. Mohammed VII. restored a second
time, 1432. Mohammed IX. Aben Osmin (nephew of Mo¬
hammed VII.), 1445. Mohammed X. nephew of Moham¬
med VII. 1454. Muley Ali Abul Hassan, son of Moham¬
med X. 1463. Abu Abdalla, son of Abul Hassan, 1483.
Abdalla el Zagal, brother of Abul Hassan, 1484. Both
princes survived the fall of Granada, which took place in
1491.
KINGDOM OF THE ASTURIAS AND LEON.
Pelayo, 718. Favila, son of Pelayo, 737. Alfonso, son-
in-law of Pelayo, 739. Fruela I. son of Alfonso, 757.
Aurelio, nephew of Alfonso, 768. Mauregato, bastard of
Alfonso, 774. Bermudo I. nephew of Alfonso, 788. Al¬
fonso II. son of Fruela, 791. Ramiro I. son of Bermudo,
842. Ordono I. son of Ramiro, 850. Alfonso III. son of
Ordono, 866. Garcia, son of Alfonso III. 910. Ordono
II. brother of Garcia, 914. Fruela II. son of Alfonso III.
923. Alfonso IV. son of Ordono II. 925. Ramiro II.
brother of the same Alfonso, 930. Ordono HI. son of
Ramiro II. 950. Sancho I. brother of the same Ordono,
955. Ramiro III. son of Sancho I. 967. Bermuda II.
grandson of Fruela II. 982. Alfonso V. son of Bermudo
II. 999. Bermudo HI. son of Alfonso V. 1027. With
this sovereign the male line of the house of Leon terminated.
Leon and Castille now formed separate kingdoms, the con¬
temporaneous sovereigns of which wrere:—
Leon. Castille.
1037. Fernando I. king of Cas¬
tille ; king of Leon in
right of his wife.
1065. Alfonso VI. son of Ferdi-
nando I.
1126. Alfonso VIII. (the empe¬
ror), son of Urraca.
1157. Fernando II. son of Alfon¬
so the emperor.
1188. Alfonso IX. son of Ferdi-
nando II.
1230. Ferdinando III. son of
Alfonso IX. (also king
of Castille).
1026. Sancho el Mayor, king of
Navarre; first king of Cas¬
tille in right of his wife.
1035. Fernando I. son of Sancho.
1065. Sancho II. son of Ferdi¬
nando I.
1072. Alfonso I. son of Ferdi¬
nando I. (also VI. of
Leon).
1109. Urraca, daughter of Ferdi¬
nando L, and Alfonso VII.
(also sovereign of Leon).
1126. Alfonso II. (the emperor),
son of Urraca.
1157. Sancho HI. son of Alfonso
the emperor.
1158. Alfonso III. son of Sancho
III.
1214. Enrique I. son of Alfonso
III.
1217. Fernando III. son of Al¬
fonso IX. of Leon (after¬
wards king of Leon).
462 SPAIN.
History. KINGDOM OF LEON AND CASTILLE UNITED.
Alfonso X. son of Fernando III. 1252. Sancho IV. son
of Alfonso X. 1284. Ferdinando IV. son of Sancho IV.
1295. Alfonso XI. son of Ferdinando IV. 1312. Pedro
the Cruel, son of Alfonso XI. 1350. Enrique II. bastard
son of Alfonso XL 1369. Juan I. son of the former, 1379.
Enrique III. son of the former, 1390. Juan II. son of
the former, 1406. Enrique IV. son of the former, 1454.
Isabel, daughter of Juan II. and her husband Ferdinando
V. (the II. of Aragon), 1474. Juana, daughter of Fernan¬
do and Isabel, and Philip I. of Austria, 1504.
KINGDOM OF NAVARRE.
The first independent count of Navarre was Sancho Inigo,
873. The kings reported to have reigned prior to this pe¬
riod are entirely fabulous. Garcia I. (Iniguez), son of
Count Sancho, and the first king, 885. Sancho I. (Garces
Abarca), son of Garcia I. 905. Garcia II. (el Trembloso),
son of Sancho I. 924. Sancho II. (el Mayor), son or grand¬
son of Garcia II. 970. Garcia III. son of Sancho, 1035.
Sancho III. son of Garcia III. 1054. Sancho IV. (also I.
of Aragon), 1076. Pedro I. son of Sancho IV. (also king
of Aragon), 1094. Alfonso I. brother of Pedro (also king
of Aragon), 1104. Garcia IV. 1134. Sancho V. son of
Garcia IV. 1150. Sancho VI. son of Sancho V. 1194.
Thibault I. nephew of Sancho VI. 1234. Thibault II.
son of the former, 1253. Henri, in right of his wife, who
was daughter of Thibault II. 1270. Jeanne, queen of
Philip IV. king of France, 1274. Louis Hutin (king of
France), son of Jeanne, 1305. Philip, brother of Louis
(also king of France), 1316. Charles I. brother of Philip
(also king of France), 1322. Jeanne II. daughter of Louis
Hutin, married to Philip count of Evreux, 1328. Charles
II. son of Jeanne, 1349. Charles HI. son of the former,
1387. Blanche, daughter of Charles III. and Juan her
husband, son of Ferdinando I. king of Aragon, 1425.
Franqois Phoebus de Foix, in right of his grandmother,
daughter of Juan, 1479. Catherine de Foix, sister of
Phoebus, and her husband, Jean d’Albret, 1483. This
kingdom united with Castille in 1512.
KINGDOM OF ARAGON.
Aragonese independence is to be dated from 1035, when
Sancho el Mayor, king of Navarre and Castille, divided his
states among his sons. Aragon fell to the lot of Ramiro
I. 1035. Sancho I. (afterwards IV. of Navarre), son of
Ramiro I. 1063. Pedro I. son of Sancho I. (also king of
Navarre), 1094. Alfonso I. brother of Pedro (also king of
Navarre), 1104. Ramiro 11. brother of Alfonso, 1134.
Petronilla, daughter of Ramiro II. 1137. Alfonso II. son
of Petronilla, 1163. Pedro II. son of Alfonso II. 1196.
Jayme I. son of Pedro II. 1213. Pedro III. son of Jayme
I. 1276. Alfonso HI. son of Pedro III. 1285. Jayme
II. brother of Alfonso, 1291. Alfonso IV. son of Jayme
II. 1327. Pedro IV. son of Alfonso IV. 1336. Juan I.
son of Pedro IV. 1387. Martin, brother of Juan I. 1395.
Fernando I. brother of Enrique HI. king of Castille, elect¬
ed 1412. Alfonso V. son of Ferdinando I. 1416. Juan
II. (also king of Navarre), brother of Alfonso V. 1458.
Fernando II. (the V. of Castille), son of Juan II. 1497.
This kingdom united with Castille in 1516.
COUNTS OF BARCELONA.
During the early period of Mahommedan domination in
Spain, Barcelona and all Catalonia were subject to it. In
the year 801, however, the Moors were expelled from Bar¬
celona, and a count named Bera, a native of Gothic Gaul,
wras nominated head of the independency. The names of History
his successors, eleven in number, are too insignificant tos’—"v-<~
require mention individually. Alfonso Raymond, the last
count, acceded to power in 1131. On his death, Barce¬
lona was united with Aragon.
To give a connected history of these various sovereign¬
ties is quite incompatible with our limits. We can only
briefly describe those more important transactions affecting
the whole country, in which the Christians, by wresting
portions of soil from the Moors, compelled them to retire
within narrower limits, and thus circumscribed their power.
Alfonso and Fruela, the sovereigns w’ho immediately suc¬
ceeded Pelayo’s son, inflicted several severe blows on the
Moors, and overran a considerable portion of the flat coun¬
try. But what proved a more effectual check upon the
Saracens than the arms of the Christians, were their own
domestic quarrels. So mutable had been the govern¬
ment, that in the space of only forty years from the period
of their first landing in Spain, no less than twenty emirs
had been called, or had raised themselves, to the seat of
power. On the establishment of a monarchy under Ab-
derahman, intestine revolt was quelled for a time; but a
more formidable foe from without made his appearance.
This was no other than the celebrated Charlemagne, who
poured his legions over the Pyrenees into the valleys of
Catalonia. We shall not discuss the much agitated ques¬
tion as to the motives which brought this emperor into
Spain. He appears to have received an invitation from
some discontented Moorish governors; and in acceding to
their request, he probably also listened to the dictates of
his own ambition. Certain it is that he entered Spain with
a powerful army, and, if we can trust his historian Eginhard,
subjected the country from the Pyrenees to the Iberus.
But he was soon recalled from the Peninsula by the revolt
of the Saxons. In his passage through the mountain de¬
files, the rear of his army was attacked by the Navarrese,
and cut to pieces.
It seems certain, that from the period when Charlemagne
poured his legions into Navarre, he considered the country
as a fief of his crown, and thus gave great umbrage to the
Asturian kings. But the inhabitants of the province, averse
to the sway of either, longed for independence, and this
they succeeded in achieving about the year 885. The rise
of this kingdom was another blow to the Saracens. So
signal were the successes gained over them by the Chris¬
tians of Navarre, that in the year 920 not a Mahommedan
remained in the whole kingdom north of the Ebro. The
kings of Asturias and Leon also rapidly extended their do¬
minions. Ordono II. invaded the Mahommedan posses¬
sions, and gained many advantages. In 932, Ramiro II.
made an irruption into the states of the enemy, and ruined
Madrid. Arabian writers boast of terrible reprisals having
been made on the Christians, and assert that Ramiro him¬
self was defeated. The Saracens having invested Zamora,
Ramiro approached with a formidable army. The com¬
batants met, and a battle ensued, more obstinately con¬
tested and bloody than any that had been fought since the
days of Roderick. There can be no doubt that victory
shone on the banners of the Christians, but the success was
less splendid than their writers assert it to be. The ac¬
counts of all the battles fought between the Moors and the
Christians in Spain are to be received with caution. The
Arabian writers, to exalt the prowess of their countrymen,
exaggerate mere skirmishes into great battles, and tempo¬
rary and partial checks into decisive victories. In equivo¬
cal cases, they seem invariably to claim the advantage;
and where they were defeated, they either obscurely hint
the fact, or diminish the loss which they sustained. It is
to be feared, that in many instances Christian chroniclers
are chargeable with similar partiality.
The reign of Abderahman III. (912) has been extolled
as the most brilliant period in the history of the Spanish
Arabs. Commerce flourished, and riches were accumulated
to an unexampled extent. A powerful navy was formed,
and maintained in full activity ; the arts and sciences were
cultivated with ardour, because their professors were re¬
warded with princely liberality ; many splendid works were
undertaken in the towns of Mahommedan Spain ; and the
king himself was the friend of industry and of merit. Still
none of the territories which had been lost in previous reigns
was recovered, and the Christians were gradually becom¬
ing more and more formidable to the Moors, when Moham¬
med, better known us Almanzor, appeared to restore the
glory of the Saracen arms. He was an eminent general,
an enlightened statesman, and a patron of the liberal arts.
His campaigns against the Christians proved most fatal to
them. The towns were ruined, the open country was ra¬
vaged, and once more the mountains of Asturias became
the inaccessible asylum of the native monarchy. At length
the three powers, Navarre, Castille, and Leon, entered into
a confederacy to repel the common foe. The armies met
at a place situated between Soria and Medina Celi, where
a drawn battle was fought. This check, and the fearful loss
which he had sustained, so mortified Almanzor, that he sunk
under the weight of his despair, and died, some assert by
voluntary abstinence from food, in the year 1001. An event
of some importance to the Christian cause was the erection
of Castille into a distinct kingdom, by Sancho el Mayor, king
of Navarre, the most powerful prince of his age and coun¬
try. Besides Sobrarve, he held the lordship of Aragon;
and in 1026, in right of his wife, a princess of Castille, he
became king of that country. By his conquests he consi¬
derably extended his dominions ; and the marriage of his son
Fernando to the heiress of Leon gave him influence in the
affairs of that kingdom ; so that at the period of his death, in
1035, he was virtually master of all Christian Spain except
Catalonia. Before his death he divided his states among
his sons, and Aragon fell to the share of Ramiro. The in¬
dependence of Aragon as a separate kingdom is therefore
to be dated from 1035, the year in which Ramiro I. ob¬
tained possession of the throne.
About the middle of the eleventh century Spain may be
said to have been divided into two unequal parts, by a
straight line drawn from east to west, from the coasts of
Valencia to a little below the mouth of the Uouro. The
country north of this belonged to the Christians, who as
yet had the smallest and least valuable portion, while all
the rest belonged to the Moors. In point of wealth and
real power, both by land and sea, the latter were much su¬
perior to the former ; but their perpetual dissensions mate¬
rially weakened them, and every day facilitated the progress
of the Christians. Indeed, had either party been united,
the other must soon have been quelled ; but the Christians,
although they did not constantly make war upon each other
like the Moors, continued from time to time to be so em¬
broiled by domestic feuds, as to be unprepared for striking
a decisive blow with the combined armies of all the king¬
doms ; while the same evils, existing to a still greater ex¬
tent amongst the Mahommedans, rendered it impossible for
their monarchs to take advantage of the untoward state of
the affairs of the Christians. Among the Moors almost
every city was a kingdom ; and as these petty sovereignties
supported one another very indifferently, they, one after an¬
other, fell a prey to their enemies. The rapidity with which
the kingdom of Cordova fell to pieces has few examples in
history. Alfonso I. king of Aragon, also of Navarre, and
for some time of Castille and Leon, is reckoned among
the most valiant princes of Spain. From his warlike habits
he was surnamed El Batallador. He conquered Tudela,
Saragossa, Tarragona, Calatayud, Daroca, Mequinencia,
and much of the country south of the Ebro. Since the con¬
quest by the Arabs, he was the first who carried the Chris- History,
tian ensigns into Andalusia. In 1134, however, he lost a
great battle, and either perished in the conflict or died of
grief shortly afterwards. This was a misfortune, but the
misfortunes of the Christians were in general soon repaired,
although for nearly a century their conquests were less bril¬
liant than those achieved by El Batallador. At the com¬
mencement of the thirteenth century, indeed, the Moors
gained some decided advantages, and reduced several im¬
portant towns. But the balance was restored on the cele¬
brated plains of Tolosa, where an enormous army of Moors
from Africa was nearly annihilated. Alfonso of Castille
having made some destructive inroads into Andalusia, Mo¬
hammed Abu Abdalla, emperor of Barbary, prepared to
punish his audacity. It is related, on credible authority,
that one of the five divisions of the army which he assem¬
bled mustered 160,000 combatants. To meet this over¬
whelming host, the Christian kings, fortunately at this junc¬
ture brought to terms of amity with one another, united
their armies at Toledo, where they were joined by nume¬
rous volunteers from Portugal and France. On the 16th
of July 1212 the Christian army descended the mountain¬
ous chain which divides New Castille from Andalusia into
the plains of Tolosa, where the Mahommedan army was
drawn up in battle array. The conflict which ensued was
obstinate and bloody, but victory at length declared for the
Christians, and its immediate consequences involved the
ruin of the Mahommedan empire in Spain. The thirteenth
century is distinguished by other important advantages
gained by the Christians. Ferdinand III. king of Leon,
afterwards of Castille, by his numerous victories made him¬
self lord of Spain, from the Bay of Biscay to the vicinity of
the Guadalquivir, and from the confines of Portugal to those
of Aragon and Valencia. In 1233 he triumphed over Aben
Hud, king of Murcia, Granada, Cordova, Merida, and Se¬
ville ; and from that year to 1248 he successively obtained
possession of Toledo, Cordova, the whole of Murcia, Jaen,
and Seville. The loss of the city of Cordova, which in the
eyes of the Mahommedans was sacred alike from its magni¬
ficent mosque, and from its having been so long the seat of
their caliphs, was a severe blow to their power. About the
same time King Jayme, the greatest name in the ancient
history of Aragon, and surnamed the conqueror on account
of his victories, reduced the Balearic Isles, and obtained
other important victories. At this period Mahommedan
Spain obeyed three sovereigns, who hated each other as
cordially as they were all detested by the Christians. Mo¬
hammed, who ruled in Jaen, was the least powerful, but
the most successful, of these petty kings. He successively
got rid of his two contemporaries, and fixed his court in
Granada, resolving if possible to extend, or at the worst to
preserve, his new states against the independent walis or
local governors on the one hand, and the Christians on the
other. Thus the celebrated kingdom of Granada was found¬
ed in the year 1238, for that of Cordova no longer existed.
During two centuries and a half, this Mahommedan state
withstood the hostile attacks of its Christian neighbours,
and only fell when all Spain became united under one
sceptre, and was consequently rendered irresistibly superior
to the kingdom of the Moors.
The first king of Granada was equally valiant in war
and wise in council, but he was not in a condition to con¬
tend with Ferdinand of Castille. He submitted to do hom¬
age to him as his vassal; and during the lifetime of Fer¬
dinand a good understanding subsisted between him and
Mohammed. But in succeeding reigns war again broke
out between the Moors and Christians. In 1303 the strong-
fort of Gibraltar was reduced by Ferdinand IV. king of
Castille and Leon. But the reign of this prince was most¬
ly one of disaster. An iniquitous league was formed by
two native princes, who proposed to share the kingdom be-
SPAIN.
464
History, tween them. The kings of France, Portugal, and Gra-
-1' y ^ nada, were not ashamed to sanction this unhallowed com¬
pact. The king of Portugal invaded Castille, the king of
Granada spread his ravages into Andalusia, and the fate of
Ferdinand seemed on the point of beftig sealed, and his
kingdom partitioned among the combined robbers. But dis¬
sensions among the confederates, and the want of money,
dissolved the league, and saved Spain. The greatest bat¬
tle which had been fought between the Moors and Chris¬
tians since the mighty African host was destroyed on the
plains of Tolosa, took place in October 1340, on the banks
of the small river Salado. The Christians under Alfonso
of Castille were a very small band compared with the enor¬
mous host led by the king of Granada; but the former
gained a brilliant victory, the loss of the Moors having been
immense. The consequence was the surrender of several
fortresses ; and in the following year the destruction of the
Mahommedan fleet was effected by the Christians.
It is now necessary to mention some circumstances in
the history of Navarre, relative to the intimate connection
which so long subsisted between that kingdom and France,
and which had a material influence on the destinies of Spain.
The male line of the house of Sancho Inigo, founder of
the sovereignty, having ended in Sancho VI., who died in
1234, leaving no issue, the Navarrese elected as their future
king, Thibault, a French prince, and nephew to the de¬
ceased Sancho. Of this monarch we know little beyond
an expedition to Palestine, which he undertook along with
several princes of France. His two sons, who successively
occupied the throne of Navarre, espoused French princesses,
and thus an intimate connection with I ranee was establish¬
ed. The relationship between the two kingdoms became
still more close when Queen Jeanne gave her hand to Philip
the Fair of France. In short, Navarre became a province
of France, and for four reigns has no distinct history. In
1328, however, the kingdoms were again separated, though
the sovereigns of Navarre were closely related to those
of France. Charles II. surnamed the Wicked, ascended
the Navarrese throne in 1349, and shortly afterwards
married Jeanne, daughter of King John of trance. His
reign is one of perfidy, intrigue, and dishonourable al¬
liances. Events which belong more immediately to the
history of France, led to the arrest of Charles by the
French monarch, and his detention in prison for several
years. He effected his escape, and again resumed his old
practice of intriguing, particularly against the king of
France. In 1366 he entered into a league with the cele¬
brated Black Prince of England, for the restoration of Pe¬
dro, surnamed the Cruel, who had been driven from the
throne of Castille on account of his many enormities. The
expulsion of this detestable monster was the act of an in¬
dignant nation, which immediately elevated his bastard
brother Enrique, or Henry, count of Irastamara, to the
throne of Castille. The exiled king himself appealed in per¬
son to the generosity of the English hero, and the conse¬
quence was that the Black Prince led a powerful force
across the Pyrenees. In his combined army of English
and Normans were some of the flower of English chivalry.
Henry made every disposition in his power, resolving to
hazard all in a battle. The recollection of the cruelties
and oppressions of Pedro’s government were a strong
stimulus to his followers, and might have insured success
had he only been opposed by Pedro the Cruel and Charles
the Wicked; but he had to contend with the victor of
Cressy and Poictiers. The battle which decided the fate
of the two kings was fought near Logrono, a few miles
south of the Ebro, on the 3d of April 1367. Henry nobly
contested the day, as also did his antagonist, who was as
brave as he was cruel. The conflict was for a short time
desperate, but it terminated in the complete discomfiture
of Henry, an event followed by the immediate restoration
of Pedro to the Castillian throne. His gallant ally had soon History,
reason to regret his connection with a prince equally per-
fidious, debauched, and bloody. Edward quitted him in
disgust, without receiving payment of the sum promised
to the English troops. Pedro, no longer overawed by the
Black Prince, who was as humane as he was valiant, im¬
mediately set about puaishing those whom he either knew
or suspected of having been zealous in the cause of
Henry. His late disgrace had sharpened his naturally
keen appetite for blood; but we pass over the revolting
details of the enormities which he committed. They pro¬
duced their usual effects, the complete alienation of the
minds of his subjects from him, and then a conspiracy to put
an end to such barbarous tyranny. Henry, who had fled to
France, entered Spain with a small force, which, however,
soon became augmented to an army. Tyrants have few
friends in the hour of adversity, and those wrho have been
bribed by gold or overawed by authority to become their
pliant tools, are too easily seduced from their allegiance to
be trusted when the day of trial comes. Mohammed V.,
king of Granada, was induced to take the field in behalf of
Pedro; but it was less to aid his ally than to take advan¬
tage of the confusion of the times. Pedro’s army gradually
melted away, and he himself, compelled to flee for shelter to
a fortress, and nearly deserted by his followers, was there
shortly afterwards slain by the hand of Henry. Although,
as we have already noticed, this prince was a bastard, yet
he quietly ascended the Castillian throne, which he bequeath¬
ed to his posterity.
For nearly a century after these events took place, the
history of Spain presents little or nothing that is remark¬
able. The continued and petty hostilities between the na¬
tive princes, or between any or all of them and the Moors,
merit but slight attention. Henry IV. surnamed the Im¬
potent, ascended the throne of Castille in 1454. The mis¬
conduct of this prince, a frivolous and contemptible de¬
bauchee, produced a conspiracy amongst his turbulent no¬
bles, to resist his weak and flagitious administration. He
was formally deposed at Avila, in a very extraordinary man¬
ner ; an effigy which represented him bein’g solemnly de¬
graded from the royal dignities, while at the same time his
brother Alfonso was proclaimed king of Castille and Leon.
Henry was naturally anxious to punish the rebels, but they
assumed an attitude too formidable for him. Civil war pro¬
duced a total relaxation of the laws, and let loose bands of
robbers, who pillaged the open country, and not unfrequent-
ly attacked and plundered the towns. In the midst of these
troubles the Infante Alfonso died, an event for the present
highly favourable to the king. Some attempts to raise the In¬
fanta Isabella, his sister, to the throne, proved at first abor¬
tive ; but she was the person upon whom the nobles had set
their eyes as the only legitimate successor to Henry. In
1469 was laid the foundation of a union which was to prove
of such unbounded advantage to Spain. Juan II. of Ara¬
gon solicited the hand of Isabella of Castille for his son and •
heir Don Ferdinand, king of Sicily. By distributing lar¬
gesses amongst the Castillian nobles, and firmly attaching
the archbishop of Toledo to his interest, Juan succeeded in
his object. On the 25th of October 1469, the royal pair
received the nuptial benediction in the cathedral of Valla¬
dolid. The negociations had been secretly conducted, and
the whole affair was brought to a conclusion without the
knowledge of Henry or his queen, a princess as licentious
as himself. She had borne a daughter, the Infanta Juana,
whom the whole kingdom supposed, on pretty good grounds,
to be the fruit of her intrigue with Don Beltran de la Cueva,
count of Ledesma, one of Henry’s favourites. No sooner
was Henry made acquainted with this precipitate marriage,
than he resolved to leave no measure untried for securing
the crown to Juana. He caused her to be proclaimed heir¬
ess of his dominions, and in his last will declared her his suc-
SPAIN.
465
History, cessor. But popular opinion is too strong even for princes.
^-y-*-' The country believed her illegitimate, and on the death of
Henry in 1474, Ferdinand V. and Isabella were elevated to
the throne of Castille and Leon, it being stipulated that the
king and queen should reign conjointly. The king of Por¬
tugal at first espoused the cause of Juana; but the alliance
was productive of no event of importance, and peace was
restored between Castille and Portugal in 1479. The very
same year, Ferdinand, by the death of his father, Juan II.,
was called to the throne of Aragon. Having received the
homage of his Aragonese subjects at Saragossa, of the Ca¬
talonians at Barcelona, and of the Valencians in the capi¬
tal of that province, he returned into Castille.
The reign of Ferdinand and Isabella is distinguished by
great events, events of the highest importance, not only to
Spain, but to mankind. It was under their auspices that
Columbus brought a new world to light, and it was by their
arms that the pow-er of the Mahommedans was for ever ex¬
tinguished in the Peninsula. Their first object was the re¬
gulation of the government and the enforcement of the
laws, which, from the license of preceding reigns, had fallen
into desuetude, or were openly defied. The king and queen
were noted for a rigid administration of justice ; neither
for money nor favour would they spare the guilty : and there
was too much to punish and correct not to give their admi¬
nistration a character of severity, which would have had no
existence had the country not fallen into a state of civil
and political disorganization almost unprecedented. The
local judges were overawed by the nobles, and extraordi¬
nary judges or corregidors were appointed to see that they
did their duty. This not being found sufficient to eradi¬
cate an evil which had existed for centuries, the aid of the
Holy Brotherhood was sought and obtained. This associa¬
tion, which had existed since the middle of the thirteenth
century, consisted of a number of confederated cities and
towns, which maintained a considerable body of troops, in
order to protect travellers and pursue criminals, and took
cognizance of all violent offences against the laws, appoint¬
ing courts and judges in various parts of the kingdom.
New powers were reposed in this association, so that it be¬
came a powerful instrument in the hands of government,
and alike terrible to robber and rebel. By this means
the territorial jurisdiction of the seignoral nobles was ma¬
terially abridged, while the royal prerogative was greatly
extended. The prompt and impartial administration of
justice restored tranquillity and order ; and it had been well
for the fame of these sovereigns if their salutary severity
had been only directed against the disturbers of the pub¬
lic peace. But unfortunately they were equally severe
against all who ventured to differ from the established faith.
Against apostates, all converts who, after baptism, reverted
to Judaism or the faith of Islam, their hatred was impla¬
cable. Their intemperate zeal led them to establish, or
rather to re-organize, an ecclesiastical tribunal, which became
proverbial throughout the civilized world for its enormous
cruelties and injustice. This was the court of inquisition.
We now approach what is not only an important event
in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, but an era in the
history of Europe, namely, the conquest of Granada, the
last possession of the Mahommedans in Spain. A sovereign
so zealous for the Catholic faith as Ferdinand proved him¬
self to be, was not likely to allow such enemies of Chris¬
tianity to remain long in the Peninsula, if by force of arms
he could expel them; and accordingly he early turned his
attention to the subject. Every thing conspired to favour
his design ; the Mooinsh kingdom was distracted and dis¬
united by a civil war between father and son ; and Ferdi¬
nand having obtained the bull of Sixtus IV. authorizing a
crusade, put himself at the head of his troops, and entered
Granada. He continued the war with rapid success ; Isa¬
bella attended him in several expeditions ; and they were
von. xx.
both in considerable danger at the siege of Malaga, an im- History,
portant city, which was defended with great courage, and
taken in 1487. Baza was reduced in 1489, after the loss
of 20,000 men. Gaudix and Almeria were delivered up to
them by the Moorish king Alzagel, who had first dethroned
his brother Alboacen, and afterwards been chased from his
capital by his nephew Abdali. That prince engaged in the
service of Ferdinand and Isabella, who, after reducing every
other place of eminence, undertook the siege of Granada.
Abdali made a gallant defence ; but all communication with
the country being cut off, and all hopes of relief at an end,
he capitulated, after a siege of eight months, on condition
that he should enjoy the revenue of certain places in the
fertile mountains of Alpuxarras ; that the inhabitants should
retain the undisturbed possession of their houses, goods,
and inheritances; the use of their laws, and the free exer¬
cise of their religion. Thus ended the empire of the Arabs
in Spain, after it had continued about eight hundred years.
Its overthrow was soon followed by the expulsion of the
Saracens from Spain. This expulsion, however, was not
entirely effected till the 17th century. Vast numbers of
the Moors, indeed, oppressed by their conquerors, aban¬
doned a country where they could not reside with comfort
and with freedom. From the reign of Ferdinand of Cas¬
tille, to that of Philip III. of Spain, more than 3,000,000 of
these people quitted Spain, and carried with them, not only
a great part of their acquired wealth, but that industry and
love of labour which are the foundation of national pros¬
perity.
The conquest of Granada was followed by the expulsion
of the Jews, under circumstances of great injustice and atro¬
city. This unhappy people had engrossed the greater part
of the wealth and commerce of Spain, yet not being al¬
lowed to take away the value of their property in the pre¬
cious metals, they were compelled to barter it for the pro¬
duce or manufactures of the Peninsula, and this could not
be effected except at a great sacrifice. One alternative was
left them, to embrace Christianity. The inquisition ex¬
hausted first its art and then its fury to accomplish this ob¬
ject, but with comparatively little success. Many, indeed,
to save their property, always dear to an Israelite, outward¬
ly at least embraced the faith of the cross ; but by far the
greater number, in profound despair, and stripped of much
of their wealth, took leave of the land of their birth. About
the same time that this decree was promulgated, their Ca¬
tholic majesties concluded an alliance with the emperor
Maximilian, and a treaty of marriage for their daughter
Juana with his son Philip, archduke of Austria, and so¬
vereign of the Netherlands. To this period also belongs
the contract concluded with Columbus for the discovery of
new countries ; an event which more powerfully than any
other attracts the notice of posterity to this splendid reign,
and which materially tended to raise the Spanish monarchy
above any other in Europe. To Isabella must be ascribed
the glory of the enterprise, for she it was who borrowed
the sum of money necessary for the armament, and bade
the great navigator depart. This great queen died in 1504,
leaving her daughter Juana, and after that princess her
own grandson (the celebrated Charles V.), heirs to the
monarchy, but appointing her husband Ferdinand regent
of the kingdom till the majority of Charles. The latter
years of Ferdinand’s life were embittered by family dissen¬
sions, which broke out even before Isabella had breathed her
last. Juana was undoubtedly queen, for the Salic law, which
excludes females, did not exist in Spain. This was well
known, and is important, as bearing on events which hap¬
pened in more recent times. Philip therefore prepared to
enforce his right, while Ferdinand, fond of power, and
backed by the will of his late wife, showed a determination
to maintain his position in the kingdom. But just as the
affairs of Spain were assuming a serious aspect, Philip died,
3 N
466 S P A I N.
History, and Ferdinand gradually resumed his authority over the
v “ v whole country. Insurrection quailed before him, the laws
resumed their empire, and prosperity revisited the people.
The remaining events of his reign must be briefly summed
up. He solicited and obtained the hand of Germaine, niece
to Charles of France, in the hope of leaving a male heir
to the throne; but his anticipations were not realized. In
several expeditions to Africa, important conquests were
made in that country, Algiers, Tunis, and other places sub¬
mitting to become vassals to the king of Spain. In 1511
he went to Italy to assist the pope against the schismatics
under the protection of the king of France and the em¬
peror. But into the interminable affairs of Italy, the criti¬
cal wars carried on by Ferdinand in that country in de¬
fence of his Sicilian and Neapolitan possessions, we cannot
enter. This war, however, led to one memorable result,
which was the conquest of Navarre. Desirous of carrying
hostilities into France, he demanded from Jean d’Albret,
king of Navarre, permission to march his troops through
that country. The Navarrese refused, but at the same
time promised to remain neutral. They broke their en¬
gagement, however, and entered into an alliance, offensive
and defensive, with France. Determined to accomplish his
end by force, and to punish the duplicity of the Navarrese,
Ferdinand invaded Navarre, and in a short time obtained
possession of the whole kingdom, annexing it to that over
which he formerly ruled,and successfully defending it against
the invasion of the French. This was the last great event of
Ferdinand’s life, and was one which was fortunate for the
country, as serving to consolidate its power. After a linger¬
ing illness, his death took place on the 23d of January 151b.
In his last will he declared his daughter Juana heiress to all
his dominions in Spain and Italy, and after her his grandson
Charles. Cardinal Ximenes Cisneros was at the same time
appointed sole regent of Castille till the arrival of his
grandson. Ferdinand is justly regarded as the founder of
the Spanish monarchy; and although his character has some
dark stains upon it, intolerant bigotry being not the least
conspicuous, he was certainly the greatest prince of his
age, and one of the ablest and best that ever swayed the
sceptre of Spain. We shall now glance at the civil and
political condition of Spain under the Moors and under
the Christians respectively, from the period of the Mahom-
medan conquest till the death of Ferdinand.
Mahomme- Mahommedan Spain originally comprehended nearly
dan Spain. njne tenths of the Peninsula. Murcia, which the Arabs
call Tadmir, though governed by the Christian Theodomir
and his successor Athanagild, was as much dependent on
the Saracens as Andalusia or New Castille. The districts
over which the barbarian sway never extended were the
mountains of the Asturias, Biscay, Navarre, and an angle
of Aragon. Thus not only by far the greatest, but infinite¬
ly the most valuable, part of the Peninsula was comprised
in the Mahommedan kingdom. Under the viceroys of
the caliphs, and the immediate successors of the first Ab-
derahman, that is, during the first three centuries, it was the
admiration and terror of Europe. The revenues which the
kings of Cordova derived from their ample possessions
were doubtless immense, and this enabled them to main¬
tain not only a large army of native troops, but great bodies
of foreign auxiliaries. These mercenary soldiers are sup¬
posed by some of the most distinguished Arabian histo¬
rians to have been the principal cause of the downfall of
that splendid monarchy. The spirit of nationality was not
destroyed; it was fostered by transplantation from the
original soil; the Egyptians in Beja and Lisbon ; the Per¬
sians in Huete; the Assyrians in Granada; the Berbers
and Slavones in most of the great cities, especially about
the court; the inhabitants of Damascus, Emessa, and of
Old Palestine, in Cordova, Seville, Niebla, Medina Sidonia,
and Algeziras; became so many rival factions, all eager in
the pursuit of power, and all mutually hostile. Their fre- History,
quent quarrels occasioned great disasters in the state, and ''■““V'-—
allowed the ambitious no less than the desperate a long-
continued impunity. In this distracted state of the king¬
dom, rebel chiefs contrived to retain and even to extend
their governments; while the Christians, ever ready to
take advantage of circumstances, drove the Saracens from
city to city, and from province to province, till they finally
expelled them from the country. After Cordova fell from
its proud eminence, the Mahommedan power declined with
great rapidity. The rulers of Toledo, Badajos, Beja, Se¬
ville, Ecija, Malaga, Granada, Almeria, Lorca, Murcia,
Denia, Valencia, Lerida, Saragossa, and Huesca, all openly
aspired to independent sovereignty. Many of these petty
states were annihilated by the king of Seville; but his
own, with those which still remained, were swept from the
Peninsula by Yussef, the first emperor of the Almoravides.
This African dynasty was again subverted by the still
more ferocious Almohades. In the decline of the latter,
the local governors again endeavoured to establish inde¬
pendent kingdoms. The Moorish domination thus be¬
came circumscribed within the mountainous region bounded
by the sea, and by a line drawn from Malaga through Ar-
chidona, Loxa, Guardia, the Sierra de Cazorla, to the en¬
virons of Lorca. This small state was still farther limited
by the succeeding sovereigns of Castile, from Alfonso el
Sabio downwards, till, as we have seen, it was finally sub¬
jugated by Ferdinand the Catholic.
In all the states of Spain, whether Mahommedan or
Christian, the government was absolute, but not despotic.
If the Christian, as a protection against arbitrary power,
could appeal to the legal code of the country which he inha¬
bited, the Mahommedan could also invoke the provisions of
the Koran, for the laws of the followers of the prophet are
founded in their religion. Several of the Mahommedan
potentates were the munificent patrons of literature and
literary men, the names of some of whom are mentioned
with respect at the present day. At the close of the
eleventh century, Mahommedan Spain could boast of se¬
venty public libraries, and of colleges, or seminaries of
learning, in all the principal cities. Thus learning was
much encouraged; and among these numerous collections
of books were many hundred volumes by native writers.
So great, in fact, was the literary reputation of the Spa¬
nish Arabs, that when the caliph of Egypt desired his
library to be arranged and indexes to be made, he confided
the task to two individuals of that nation. These men
of learning comprised historians, poets, grammarians, ora¬
tors, rhetoricians, mathematicians, astronomers, philoso¬
phers natural and moral, physicians, lawyers, and divines.
It was in the physical and experimental sciences that the
people most excelled, and that too at a time when many of
the sciences were wholly neglected or totally unknown in
the rest of Europe. Their knowdedge of botany was far
famed ; that of chemistry was still more so. Indeed they
are to be regarded, if not the founders, at least the regenera¬
tors, of that science in Europe. Their skill in medicine
was great; in the mathematics they particularly distin¬
guished themselves; the improvements which they made
in algebra are well known. Optics and astronomy wrere
much cultivated by them ; nor were the useful arts less at¬
tended to, more especially agriculture, including horticul¬
ture and planting. The mechanical arts and manufac¬
tures were also carried to considerable perfection by the
Spanish Arabs. Commerce was deemed no less worthy of
encouragement than domestic industry. The fine arts
however were less cultivated; but still all the great cities
of Mahommedan Spain, Cordova, Granada, Toledo, Va¬
lencia, Ubeda, Coimbra, w^ere deeply indebted to the Moor¬
ish inhabitants; a fact sufficiently proved by the remains of
their past magnificence, which still exist.
SPAIN.
467
History. From the foundation of the Christian states, the extent
territory comprised by each was usually variable, de-
Christian pen(ient alike on their conquests over the common enemy
^a^n' and among themselves. The relative extent of each at
different periods may be briefly noticed. 1. When Pelayo
established his little court at Cangus, the Asturian king¬
dom could only have occupied the mountainous district
immediately surrounding that humble capital. By Al¬
fonso I. this territory was extended into Galicia on the
west, probably to Aragon on the east, and to the confines
of Toledo on the south. Alfonso III. still further am¬
plified the Asturian kingdom, by extending its frontiers to
the Sierra de Cuenza, in the territory of Toledo, to the
Duero, in Estremadura and Portugal; in one instance
even as far as the Guadiana. The capital regularly conti¬
nued to shift towards the centre of Spain as new terri¬
tory was acquired. Thus the Asturian kingdom went on
increasing till, on the incorporation of Castille with it, and
the subsequent conquest of Andalusia by San Fernando,
the capital of the monarchy was fixed at Seville. From
the reign of San Fernando may be dated the true era of
Spanish greatness. Murcia was conquered by his son Al¬
fonso ; and by his successors the Moorish kingdom of
Granada was first circumscribed and finally subjugated.
2. Navarre (that is, Spanish Navarre), from its origin to its
conquest by Ferdinand Y. underwent little change in its
dimensions ; and its capital was always Pamplona. See the
article Navarre. 3. The Lordship of Barcelona, which
for some time continued dependent on the Carlovingian
princes, comprehended anciently, not only Catalonia, but
likewise Languedoc. The Spanish frontier, however, was
subsequently held as a separate government, to which other
lordships were subordinate. The dependence on France
was of short duration, and appears nearly to have ceased
towards the close of the ninth century, when Wifredo II.,
count of Barcelona, entirely cleared Catalonia from the in¬
fidels. That ruler decrees in the sovereign style, and is re¬
cognised even by the French as the founder of an heredi¬
tary state ; which continued as independent a sovereignty
as any in the Peninsula, till its union with Aragon, about
the middle of the twelfth century. 4. Aragon was at first
but a small mountainous region at the foot of the Pyrenees,
the capital of which was Jaen, or San Juan de la Pena. 1 he
conquest of Sobrarve, Ribagorza, and Pallas, by Ramiro I.;
of the Mahommedan fortresses from the Pyrenees to the
Ebro by Sancho I.; of Huesca by Pedro ; of ludela, Sara¬
gossa, Calatayud, Daroca, Mequinencia, &c. by Alfonso I.,
amplified this little lordship into a considerable kingdom, the
capital of which in 1119 was transferred to Saragossa. When
Lerida and Fraga were reduced by the prince of Aragon,
the Balearic Isles and Valencia by Don Jayme el Conquis¬
tador, Aragon became, next to Castille, the most extensive
and powerful of the peninsular kingdoms.
The government of all the Christian states was absolute,
and in the whole of them latterly it was hereditary. The
powers of the sovereign varied at different times; latterly
they became very great. He could concede or revoke, in¬
terpret or abrogate laws, declare war or make peace, ap-
pointjudges, levy and exact contributions, and the like. But
still all was to be done according to the ancient form, that
is, according to established custom. Other restraints were
placed upon his power, and it is pretty certain that the Spa¬
nish kings were not commonly tyrannical. The true tyrants
were the feudal lords, who were at perfect liberty to exercise
almost royal authority within their respective jurisdictions.
Of their violence and rapacity there are innumerable com¬
plaints in the national chronicles, and in the acts of the
Cortes. It is worthy of remark, that the queens presided
with their husbands in the Cortes, the councils, and the tri¬
bunals of justice, and that as judges, not merely as spectators.
The only great feudatories of the crown, exercising a local
jurisdiction, were the condes, who held different ranks and History,
enjoyed different degrees of power. But, from the thir- v ”
teenth century, the governors of provinces were termed
adelantados (now captains-general), while those of cities,
towns, and fortresses, were known as alcaldes. As conquest
gave the Christians additional territory, admirals and consta¬
bles were appointed, with power over the affairs of sea and land
respectively. Of the dignities, whatever their names might
be, most were doubtless of a mixed nature, partly civil and
partly military. But there were functionaries who exercised
an exclusively military authority. Among the officers of
administration, those of the law must have occupied a pro¬
minent place. The judgment in civil or criminal cases
properly depended on the counts or viscounts, who some¬
times decided themselves, sometimes in concert with men
learned in the law, called counsellors, and at other times they
left the duty to the ordinary judges. These counsellors or
judges were expressly educated for the office, and otherwise
well adapted for such a situation. The forms of proceeding,
which were simple and brief, wTere conducted in public, and
the sentence was also openly delivered. From the decision
of all the ordinary judges, lay an appeal to the royal tribunal,
which also took cognizance of certain offences and cases.
Spain can boast of an ample body of laws promulgated dur¬
ing the middle ages.
As the circumstances of the country altered, and the
state of society advanced, it became necessary to extend
or limit the existing laws, and to enact new ones, io
encourage the cultivation of waste lands, the Christian
kings promised to the lower orders, that if they reclaimed
unoccupied wastes, formed themselves into small communi¬
ties, building villages and towns, and defended their pos¬
sessions against the common enemy, they should enjoy cer¬
tain social privileges in addition to the profits of their in¬
dustry. Of these privileges the most highly prized were
those which rescued the people from the jurisdiction of their
feudal tyrants, which empowered them to elect their own
magistrates, to form municipal juntas, and to dispose of cer¬
tain revenues arising from forests and other possessions.
It may well be believed that so brilliant a reward attracted
many settlers, who were thus at once raised from the rank
of serfs to that of citizens. Such was the origin of many
fueros, or provincial laws, which varied in their spirit
according to the liberality of the monarch and the rela¬
tive importance of the colonies. These fueros were de¬
vised with jealous care to preserve the inhabitants from
feudal domination. No baron or noble could settle in a
community, unless he abandoned his birthright, enrolled
himself among the citizens, and owned obedience to the
local fuero. So many temptations did these new commu¬
nities present, in the shape of municipal posts, that many
nobles were known to renounce their rank, and class them¬
selves among the plebeians, for the purpose of obtaining
them. The defects of such a system were not long in being
felt, and a remedy was provided by the introduction of the
“ Siete Partidas,” so called from the seven parts into which
it is divided. It is by far the most comprehensive code of
Spain, being taken from the code of Justinian, the Visi-
gothic, the Fuero Viejo, the local fueros, as well as fiom
the canon law. .
Passing over the much-disputed question icgarding the Cortes,
origin of popular representation in Spain, we find that there
were present, at the Cortes held at Leon in the year 1188, the
deputies of towns, chosen by lot,” that is, representatives of
the people, the third estate. On these municipal towns
many important privileges were conferred by successive
sovereigns, the direct tendency of which was to abridge the
powers of the feudal lords. But even at the brightest period
of popular representation, which was the fourteenth century,
the representation was never definite. Many of the great
towns neglected to send any deputies at all, and those which
468
SPAIN.
History.
Literature,
science,
and reli¬
gion.
Charles L
did return them appear to have observed little proportion in
the numbers. Two was the number which ought to have
been returned by each, but some towns sent eight, while
others of larger size sent only one or two. Indeed it seems
highly probable that the privilege of sending deputies was
a favour granted by the sovereign to such towns as it was
his pleasure to honour. It is preposterous, therefore, to look
upon the third estate as consisting of independent repre¬
sentatives of the nation : the members were little better
than nominees of royalty, and their numbers could be in¬
creased or diminished just as it suited the purposes of go¬
vernment. Much as the popular representation of Castille
is extolled by national writers, it seems to have been better
adapted for securing and extending the power of the crown,
than for protecting the rights of the people. Under Ferdi¬
nand and Isabella the last lingering traces of popular liberty
were destroyed; but the power of the other orders of the
state suffered at the same time a corresponding diminution,
as we have already noticed. Such is a brief outline of the
government and laws of Castille and Leon, the most import¬
ant of the peninsular kingdoms, and almost the only ones-
in which the reader will take much interest, or, indeed, re¬
garding which authentic documents remain. It may be
mentioned, however, with regard to the kingdom of Aragon,
that, with the exception of the lowest order, the serfs of the
soil, the Aragonese possessed a greater share of individual
liberty than any other people in the Peninsula. The citi¬
zens and nobles frequently coalesced for the purpose of ob¬
taining fueros or privileges from the crown, and when thus
united they were generally too powerful to be resisted.
Hence numerous concessions were made by successive so¬
vereigns, and an amount of popular freedom obtained by
the people which frequently threatened the existence of the
monarchy itself. Catalonia and Valencia were always dis¬
tinct from Aragon, both in government and laws. Each
had its Cortes, consisting of three estates, prelates, nobles,
and deputies, all no less tenacious of their privileges than
those of Aragon.
Several historians of note, whose works have come down
to us, flourished in the various Christian kingdoms of Spain
during the period of Mahommedan domination. Poetry
sprung up about the middle of the twelfth century, and
some very interesting specimens of these ancient composi¬
tions still remain, particularly the Poema del Cid. The old
Spanish ballads are well known, and celebrated throughout
Europe. The scientific state of Spain, as compared with
the Mahommedan, exhibits a lamentable contrast; nor does
it appear that in any of the useful arts of life the Spanish
Christians were equal to the Moors. The most distinguish¬
ed place in Spanish science during this period has been as¬
signed to Alfonso X. surnamed el Sabio; but even he was
greatly indebted to the Arabians for the perfection which
he attained. The theologians of Spain, during the middle
ages, were more numerous than all her other writers put
together, and the writings of many of these shining lights
of the church are to be met with in the libraries of Spain.
With regard to religion it is only necessary to state, that the
Catholic faith prevailed in full force, and was characterized
by the darkest bigotry and the fiercest intolerance, as the
doings of the inquisition amply testify.
Charles I. (V. of Germany) became king of Spain on the
death of Ferdinand, but a regency had been nominated to
govern the kingdom until he should attain his twentieth
year. If the events and transactions in which this monarch
was concerned were to be woven into the history of Spain,
it would in fact be the history of almost all Europe during
the period of his reign. But our business is with events
purely peninsular ; or if others of a more general character
are occasionally noticed, it will be because they are too
closely connected with the former to be separated without
violence. His foreign wars, negociations, and other trans¬
actions, arose from his position as emperor of Germany, not History,
from his being king of Spain ; and an account of them will v~*-
be found under the heads France, Italy, and England,
to which articles the reader is referred.
The Cardinal Ximenes Cisneros, to whom the regency
had been left by the deceased king, was bitterly opposed in
his administration, principally by the nobles of Castille, who,
envious of his dignity, displeased with his firmness and vi¬
gour, and hoping for impunity under a young monarch, soon
showed a disposition to refuse him obedience. Popular
discontent reached a great height; and as his best measures
were misrepresented to the king, Charles perceived the ne¬
cessity of making his appearance in Spain, where he arrived
in 1517. Nobles and prelates hastened to meet their so¬
vereign, and among the rest the calumniated Ximenes.
But that sovereign he was not destined to see ; he suddenly
sickened and died, not without suspicions of poison. Charles
brought with him a multitude of Flemings from the Nether¬
lands, who soon monopolized the principal situations in
church and state, and in all their dealings evinced an un¬
quenchable thirst for gold. The favour extended to these
foreigners so incensed the people, that Charles found ex¬
treme difficulty in obtaining the homage of the Spaniards.
Although they swore allegiance to him, it was on certain
stipulated conditions, sufficiently advantageous to them¬
selves. In 1519 occurred an event destined to exercise
great influence over his future life, over his hereditary
states, in fact over all Europe. This was his election to
the imperial throne of Germany, left vacant by the death
of his paternal grandfather Maximilian. The Spaniards
were pleased that this dignity was conferred on their so¬
vereign ; but as the old grievances continued to gall them,
they were not so dazzled as to be insensible to their own
interests. The leading men of many of the principal cities
publicly remonstrated with Charles, and it was only by
granting certain concessions that he could keep them from
open rebellion. His presence having become absolutely
necessary in Germany, he quitted Spain, but proceeded first
to England to concert with Henry VIII. the means of hum¬
bling the power of the French king, Francis I. This mo¬
narch had been a candidate for the imperial diadem ; but,
disappointed in his ambition, and in hatred of his success¬
ful rival, he leagued himself even with the enemy of the
Christian faith. He also laid claim to Italy, the Nether¬
lands, and Navarre; so that war was unavoidable, and hos¬
tilities immediately commenced; for an account of which
see the articles already referred to.
The turbulence of the times was not likely to be as¬
suaged by the absence of the king from his all but revolt¬
ed territories in the Peninsula. Opposition had now de¬
generated into rebellion ; and what before might have been
dignified with the name of patriotism, could only be charac¬
terized as crafty schemes of personal ambition. Unfortu¬
nately for the interests of order, the regency of Castille,
where disaffection had assumed the most serious aspect, was
held by a man, estimable and virtuous, indeed, but little
fitted for such stormy times. The appointment of this in¬
dividual, Cardinal Adrian, who subsequently wore the triple
crown, had at the first given great offence to the nobles
and deputies at court; but the king, though solicited, would
not change him for another. The persons upon whom the
fury of the mob fell were chiefly the governors and deputies
of the cities and provinces. Many were massacred ; open
insurrection spread from city to city ; and no species of crime
was left uncommitted. In this critical position of the royal
cause, it was fortunate that Aragon, Catalonia, and most of
Andalusia, stood aloof from the confederation. Had they
joined it, the evils might have been long protracted, and the
whole Peninsula plunged in misery and ruin. But the re¬
volted cities followed one another in making their submis¬
sion to government; and those which did not voluntarily
submit were reduced by the royal troops, now augmented
to a considerable body. An attempt of the French king to
seize Navarre was happily frustrated, so that in 1522 the
whole country was restored to tranquillity.
In July of that year, the emperor, whose presence had
been often requested by the royalists, arrived in Spain. It
was expected that summary justice would be inflicted on
those who had taken a prominent part in the recent distur¬
bances ; but on this occasion Charles showed a degree of
clemency almost unexampled in history, very few being
condemned to suffer. During the remainder of this prince’s
reign, the domestic tranquillity of Spain was undisturbed, ex¬
cept by an insurrection of the Moors, which was soon sup¬
pressed. Of two expeditions of the emperor to the African
coast, to humble, if not to extirpate, the Mahommedan pirates,
one was successful, the other disastrous. He compelled the
Grand Turk, who penetrated into the centre of Europe, to
retreat; and took his great rival, Francis I. of France, pri¬
soner at Pavia. Such were some of his achievements in his
foreign wars, by which the fame of the Spanish arms was ex¬
tended throughout Europe. The mines of the west also had
begun to pour their inexhaustible wealth into the country, so
that the military and political power of Spain now attained its
zenith, and became a source of uneasiness to other nations.
In 1525 Charles married the Princess Isabella, sister of Joam
III. king of Portugal. The issue of this union was, besides
two daughters, the infant Philip, destined to be no less fa¬
mous than his father. Charles made an ineffectual effort to
procure for him the imperial crown of Germany; but in
1554 succeeded in obtaining the hand of the princess Mary
of England. That the nuptial ceremony might be per¬
formed with greater splendour, he invested his son with
the regal title, by abdicating in his favour his Italian pos¬
sessions, the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, and the
duchy of Milan. This was but a prelude to a still more ex¬
traordinary sacrifice. It appears that from the very prime
of life the emperor had meditated a retreat from the world ;
and that on the death of his mother Juana, in 1555, he was
determined on fulfilling his long-cherished project. Many
reasons have been assigned for this memorable act, but the
principal cause is to be traced to his superstitious tempera¬
ment ; something is also to be allowed for the bad success of
his arms during the latter years of his reign. Having con¬
cluded a truce with Henry, the successor of Francis, and re¬
called Philip from England, he assembled at Brussels the
states of the Netherlands. There, amidst the most impos¬
ing solemnity ever witnessed since the days of the Roman
Caesars, he resigned the sovereignty of the Low Countries
into the hands of his son. With the same august ceremony
he resigned the crown of Spain, and the dominions thereto
belonging; and from the monastic retreat to which he retired,
he sent his resignation of the imperial diadem. The place
which he had chosen for his residence was the monastery
of St Justus, one of the most secluded and delightful situa¬
tions in Estremadura. Here, employed in religious ob¬
servances, passed the latter years of the life of the most
powerful sovereign Europe had seen since the days of Charle¬
magne and the empire of the west. His character has been
variously described by natives and foreigners; the former
can see little in it to condemn, the latter nothing to admire.
His policy was always close, sometimes crooked, and in not
a few instances dishonourable. He was no friend either to
civil or religious liberty, and may safely be pronounced a
bigot. Under him the condition of Spain was more splen¬
did, perhaps also more prosperous, than in any prior or sub¬
sequent reign. Notwithstanding his many wars, the people
do not appear to have been overburdened in supporting
them, for the New World poured its treasures at his feet. A
new impulse was given to national industry by the markets
opened tor Spanish productions in the transatlantic colonies.
But the brightest landscape has its masses of shade. The
nobles held a power over the people which was often ex- History,
ercised with violence. Favouritism to foreigners was prac-
tised to an unprincipled extent, and the sale of offices be¬
came a branch of traffic. Another baneful evil was the
multiplication of religious orders. Lastly, the exemption
from taxation of the nobles and clergy, which threw the
whole weight of public contribution on the third estate, in¬
creased the disaffection of that body, and was one of the
chief causes of the subsequent decline of the kingdom. For
an account of the private life and character of Charles, see
the article Charlies V.
The reign of Philip II. commenced in 1556, and extend- Philip IL
ed to the year 1598. Much of it was occupied in foreign
wars, to which we can only briefly advert. For an account
of Philip’s long, bloody, and inglorious struggle with his
revolted subjects of the Low Countries, see the article Hol¬
land. The circumstances which led to the invasion of
Portugal, and the annexation of that kingdom to the Spa¬
nish crown, will be found fully detailed under the head Portu¬
gal. An attempt was made by the pope, in conjunction with
France, to wrest from Philip his Italian dominions, but
without success. The duke of Alva, the viceroy of Naples,
put his troops in motion, seized several fortresses of the
papal states, and the holy city began to tremble for its
security. Philip himself invaded France, and inflicted a
severe blow on Henry under the walls of St Quentin. The
French army, under the duke of Guise, was recalled from
Italy; and the pope, left at the mercy of the duke of Alva,
was compelled to purchase his safety by withdrawing from
the French alliance. In 1559 peace was made with France;
and Philip having become a widower, further ratified the
treaty by marrying Elizabeth, sister of the French king.
But the Turks continued to harass Naples, although they
durst not make a stand before the Spanish forces. In 1565,
Philip assisted the Maltese with 10,000 Spaniards in the
famous siege which they underwent from sultan Solyman.
Five years afterwards, the war between the Venetian re¬
public and the Porte again brought the Spaniards into col¬
lision with the latter power, and they had no small share in
achieving the glorious victory of Lepanto. The Mahom-
medans, however, still continued to make descents on the
Italian coast, and to harass the African possessions of Philip;
but, on the whole, the war with the misbelievers was honour¬
able to the Spanish arms.
We now approach an event of peculiar and lasting inte¬
rest to every Briton, the projected invasion of England by
the famous Spanish Armada. Elizabeth had certainly done
much to provoke the resentment of Philip. She had suc¬
coured the insurgents of the Netherlands, fomented the
disturbances in Portugal, assisted France, and her naval
captains had ravaged the dominions of Spain in both he¬
mispheres. Philip’s patience being exhausted, he prepared
a mighty armament for the invasion of England. A com¬
plete account of this famous attempt to plant a foreign
standard on our shores, and its disastrous termination, will
be found in the article England. A second expedition
for the invasion of Ireland shared the fate of the former;
and this effectually cured Philip of all ambition to attempt
the subjugation of the most hated ol his enemies.
The revolt of the Moriscos occupies a remarkable place
in the native annals of the sixteenth century. These Chris¬
tianized Moors still remained Mahommedans at heart, mak¬
ing amends for compulsory apostasy by celebrating in se¬
cret the rites of their religion. It was the jealous policy
of Spain to destroy, if possible, every vestige of their na¬
tionality. To effect this end the government had re¬
course to severe and unjust measures, which produced
open revolt and civil war in Granada. Dreadful atrocities
were committed by the Moriscos, and fierce was the reta¬
liation of the Christians. The war raged with various suc¬
cess for some time, but how the struggle must terminate
SPAIN.
470
History, could never for a moment be doubtful. The Moriscos fled
'“‘""v'"*" to the mountains, the ancient asylum of liberty ; and in the
deep caverns with which they abound they deemed them¬
selves secure. But thither they were hunted by the Chris¬
tians, and, like wild beasts, smoked to death by fires kindled
at the mouths of these subterranean retreats. All who
were in arms were cut off in this manner, or by the sword.
The total expulsion of the Moriscos, however, did not take
place till a subsequent period. To some affairs of a private
or more trivial nature it is unnecessary to advert, although
some of them deeply implicate the character of Philip. This
prince died in September 1598, in the palace of the Escu-
rial, of which he was the founder, and which is the noblest
monument of his reign. By the last of his four wives, Anne
of Austria, Philip left a son, who succeeded by the title of
Philip III.; his other male children preceded him to the
tomb. Don Carlos, one of these, is generally believed to
have been murdered by the command of his bloody and un¬
relenting father. The character of Philip was gloomy, stern,
and cruel; he was suspicious, dark, and vindictive, the irre¬
concilable foe of civil and religious liberty, for which there
can only be brought forward as a palliation his zeal for
what he called religion. But Philip was eminently prudent,
attentive to public affairs, and what he conceived to be the
best interests of his country. It has been supposed that
the sceptre of Philip was swayed over 100,000,000 of hu¬
man beings, including the population of all the foreign pos¬
sessions of Spain. At this time the state of the inhabitants
of the Peninsula was one of comparative comfort. Agri¬
culture, manufactures, and commerce, flourished to an ex¬
tent even greater than in the best period of the emperor’s
reign. Yet all his vast resources, especially in the New
World, were unhappily wasted by Philip; and his own po¬
licy destroyed the very foundations on which they rested,
and hastened the decay, or rather ruin, of the kingdom.
The measures which exercised so fatal an influence over
the destinies of Spain may be briefly enumerated. 1. His
persecution of the Flemings and Dutch, which led to a re¬
volt that cost him 150,000,000 of ducats; 2. his war with
England, no less expensive and disastrous ; 3. the treasures
sent to support the abominable Catholic league, and wars
in other quarters; 4. the subjugation of the Moriscos, and
the proceedings of the inquisition, by wdiich the most pro¬
ductive and useful classes of his subjects were ruined or
expatriated. From these and from other minor causes, not¬
withstanding the enormous revenues and resources of the
kingdom, Philip died insolvent.
Philip III. The greatness of Spain having passed away with Philip
II., from this period it declined with fearful rapidity. For
a long period there is little to be recorded beyond the reign
of worthless favourites, the profligacy of courts, and the
feeble efforts of a government struck with mortal paralysis.
Our retrospect of these reigns will therefore be charac¬
terized by a brevity corresponding with their importance.
The most signal event of Philip III.’s reign was the total
expulsion of the Moriscos from all parts of Spain where
they had sought a home during the struggle recorded in
the last reign. The loss to agriculture and commerce, for
they were by far the most ingenious and industrious por¬
tion of the community, and the blow which would be in¬
flicted on the national prosperity by the withdrawal of so
much wealth as they possessed, were never taken into ac¬
count by the duke of Lerma, the prime ministers, nor any
of his inquisitorial councillors. Orders were issued for their
immediate expulsion in September 1609, and no fewer than
600,000 Individuals were forcibly dragged from their homes,
and landed on the African shore, there to be treated even
worse, by the most cruel and perfidious of the human family.
The foreign transactions of this reign are unimportant.
Philip III. died in March 1621, leaving his kingdom to a
son who bore his name, and also inherited his imbecility.
Philip IV. ascended the Spanish throne in his seventeenth History,
year. Profligate extravagance and dissipation soon began
to characterize the proceedings of the court, and murmurs IV ]
and complaints to agitate the people, who were exhausted
of their wealth in supporting pantomime and mummery at
home, and iniquitous wars abroad. The reins of govern¬
ment were surrendered into the hands of the Conde de Oli¬
vares, a worthless favourite. An attempt to enforce an
obnoxious measure drove the Catalans to revolt. They
sought and obtained the aid of France, and this occasioned
a feeble and unimportant war, which languished till 1660,
when peace was concluded, but not till Spain had surren¬
dered part of her territory to France. Contemporary with
the origin of the Catalan insurrection was that of Portugal,
by which the Portuguese freed themselves from the Spanish
yoke. See Portugal. During his long reign, Philip was
frequently at war with England, Holland, and France, and
every power committed fearful ravages on his territories.
England took Jamaica during this disastrous and disgrace¬
ful period of Spanish history. In Naples, a terrible shock
was sustained in 1646, by the insurrection of Massaniello.
See the article Sicilies. But the most calamitous of Phi¬
lip’s transactions was the war in the Low Countries, which
terminated in his recognising the independence of the
seven United Provinces. Philip died in 1665. His cha¬
racter needs no description. Since the days of Roderick
the Goth, a more disastrous reign than his had not dark¬
ened the annals of Spain.
Charles II. son of Philip IV. succeeded to the throne ^arIes I
when only four years of age. As the affairs of the kingdom
were then situated, they were not likely to improve under
a child ; and it was a further misfortune, that throughout his
long reign the king remained little better than a child. He
was feeble in body, and next to imbecile in mind; in proof
of which it may be mentioned, that he believed himself
bewitched, and submitted to the exorcisms of his confessor
with devout solemnity. Louis of France, who espoused
Maria Teresa, sister of Charles II. by a prior marriage,
in right of his wife preferred a monstrous claim to the Low
Countries, and poured his legions over the frontier to make
it good. The union of Sweden, Holland, and England, to
oppose the ambition of the Frenchman, saved the whole
Netherlands from subjugation ; but by the peace of Aix-la-
Chapelle Louis retained the most valuable of the conquests
which he had made. In this reign the complete indepen
dence of Portugal was recognised. In 1672, France invad¬
ed Holland, now the ally of Spain, conquered Franche-
Comte, which belonged to Spain, made some destructive in¬
roads into Catalonia, and reduced some fortresses in the
Low Countries. By the alliance against France, in which
England, Germany, and Spain joined, Louis’s career of
ambition was effectually checked. But subsequently he
reduced Valenciennes, Cambray, StOmers, and other places;
Ypres and Ghent u7ere assailed with equal success; and a
place on the Catalan frontier also yielded to his arms. Most
ot these places, however, were restored at the peace of
Nimeguen in 1678, one of the conditions of which was,
that Charles should receive the hand of Maria Louise, niece
of the French king. On the death of this princess in
1689, the French again poured the storm of war over the
frontier of Catalonia. Destitute of money and of troops,
Spain trembled to her most distant extremities. But cir¬
cumstances of a delicate nature, into which we shall not
enter, induced Louis to restore all his conquests at the
peace of Ryswick in 1697. The health of Charles, always
infirm, now rapidly declined, and he expired on the 1st of
November 1700. He was the last of the Austrian dynasty;
and glorious as the condition of Spain was under its early
sovereigns, those who succeeded them had brought the
kingdom to the verge of ruin. From the accession of the
third Philip it had declined, from causes already specified.
SPAIN. 471
The condition to which it was now reduced was pitiable, reign remains to be noticed. In imitation of the emperor, Historv.
The army and navy were in a state of utter disorganization ; he resigned the cares of royalty into the hands of his sonv v '
the walls of towns and fortresses were in ruins ; the public in 1724; but finding seclusion irksome, he resumed them
revenues had dwindled to little more than a nobleman’s in- again in a very short time. Whatever might.be the weak-
come ; and trade, manufactures, and commerce, had all but nesses of this prince, he had a sincere desire for the good
ceased to exist. Another such reign as that of Charles II. of Spain, and retrieved it from hopeless rum by several
would have dissolved the bonds of society. judicious measures which he introduced, so that the coun-
Charles II. was succeeded by Philip V. duke of Anjou, try attained a degree of positive prosperity unknown since
grandson to Louis XIV. of France. He was the eldest son the days of the second Philip.
of Maria Teresa, eldest daughter of Philip IV., consequent- Ferdinand VI. a mild, prudent, and beneficent prince, Ferdinand
ly the most legitimate sovereign ; for Charles left no issue, reformed abuses in the administration of justice and ma-VI.
and before his death he had subscribed an instrument, de- nagement of the finances. He revived commerce, estab-
claring Philip his successor. The foreign events of this lished manufactures, and promoted the prosperity of his
reign demand our first attention. The transactions of the kingdom.
war which was soon declared against France and Spain, by Charles III. succeeded Ferdinand in 1759. The famous Charles III.
England, Holland, and the empire, assisted by Savoy, Por- family compact was concluded at Versailles in 1761, among
tugal, and Prussia, have been already related under the the four kings of the house of Bourbon, The English,
article Britain. The chief objects of the alliance were to alarmed by the naval preparations of Spain, declared war in
obtain satisfaction for the Austrian claims on Spain, the 1762, and took Havannah in the island of Cuba, and Ma-
emperor Leopold beimr not only descended from Fernando, nilla in the East Indies. Notwithstanding this success,
brother of Charles V.,"but whose mother was the daughter peace was hastily concluded at Fontainebleau, in Novem-
of Philip III.; to rescue the Netherlands from France ; to ber, by which the Havannah w'as restored. In 1767 the
prevent the union of the French and Spanish crowns ; and Jesuits were expelled from Spain. An unsuccessful ex-
to exclude subjects of the former from the Spanish posses- pedition was concerted against Algiers in 1775, the par-
sions in the West Indies. The treaty of Utrecht, which ticulars of which it is unnecessary to detail. In the war
terminated the differences between the principal contend- between Great Britain and her American colonies, Spain,
ing powers, was signed in 1713 ; and in 1715 a permanent by the intrigues of the French court, was instigated to
peace was concluded between Spain and Portugal. By take up arms in support of the latter. At the conclusion
the celebrated treaty of 1713, Spain was stripped: of half of that calamitous war, Great Britain, in a treaty with Spain,
her European possessions. Philip was indeed acknowledged ceded to this power East and West Florida, and the island
king of Spain and the Indies ; but Sicily was ceded to the of Minorca. Charles died in 1188, and was succeeded by
duke of Savoy ; Milan, Naples, Sardinia, and the Nether- his second son Charles Anthony, prince of Asturias, the eld-
lands, to the emperor ; and Gibraltar and Minorca to the est having been declared incapable of inheriting the crown.
English. The Catalans, who had revolted and joined the Charles IV. had not long been seated on the throne be-CharlesIV.
allies, were likewise guaranteed a general amnesty, but fore the portentous revolution in Iiance involved Europe L88.
without any stipulations for the preservation of their an- in a general scene of political and military contest. I he Engages in
cient fueros or privileges, which they had justly forfeited, king of Spain joined the general confederacy against the new the confe-
Philip also renounced, both for himself and his successors, republic, and in consequence was numbered among^the
all claims to the French crown. In return for this renun- objects of its resentment, by a declaration of war in 1 pj.an(,e
elation, he forced rather than'persuaded his council to in- The military operations of Spain, however, were extiemely 1793,
troduce a measure to which subsequent events in the his- languid ; and after two campaigns, in which she might be
tory of Spain gave great importance. This was to alter said to carry on rather a defensive than an offensive wai
the order of succession, and establish a sort of Salic law, against the republican armies, she was compelled to con-
by which the most distant male of the family would be called elude a treaty of peace, which was signed at Basel on
to the inheritance in preference to the nearest female. The the 22d July 1795. By this treaty the trench republic
innovation, was regarded with discontent. By the ancient restored to the king of Spain all the conquests which she
law, which, in default of direct male issue, called females to had made from him since the commencement of hostilities,
the throne, the monarchy had been formed. By it Catalo- and received in exchange all right and'property in the
nia had been united with Aragon, and the latter with Cas- Spanish part of St Domingo.
tille ; and by it Philip himself had inherited the crown. This treaty was soon followed by a rupture with Great War fie-
Philip made an unsuccessful attempt, to recover Sicily, Britain. On 5th October 1796, the court of Spain having tween
Sardinia, and Naples; for he had now rendered both his published a manifesto against this country, the court
navy and his army formidable alike by discipline and num- London made a spirited reply ; and about the same time 1793.
bers. His fleet, however, was totally destroyed off the coast was published a treaty of offensive and defensive alliance,
of Sicily, by our Admiral Byng, in the year 1718. which had been concluded about two months before, between
By a new treaty in 1720, Sardinia was given to the duke the king of Spain and the Irench republic. In the uai
of Savoy, and Sicily to the emperor; and by the treaty of which followed between Spain and Great Britain, his Ca-
Seville, concluded in 1729, the duchies of Tuscany, Parma, tholic majesty could boast of but little honour or success ;
and Placentia, were ceded to Spain. In 1731, the Spanish and the trench republic gained little fiom its new ally but
king invaded Naples, took possession of that kingdom, and the contributions of money which it from time to time
conferred it on his son Don Carlos, in consequence of which compelled him to advance. On the 14th of rebruaiy 1 /97, 179<.
war was declared between Spain and the empire in 1733. a Spanish fleet of twenty-seven sail of the line was defeated
At the end of that year the palace of Madrid was consumed by Sir John Jervis oft Cape St Vincent, and foui the
by fire, and all the archives relating to the Indies perished Spanish line-of-battle ships were left in the hands of the
in the flames. In 1739, hostilities were renewed between victors. From this time till the temporary cessation of
Spain and Britain ; but the only successes obtained by the hostilities by the peace of Amiens in 1802, there is nothing
latter power were the capture of Porto Bello by Admiral remarkable in the transactions of Spain.
Vernon, and that of the Manilla galeon by Commodore On the renewal of the war in 1803, Spain was again com- 1803.
Anson. Philip’s long and turbulent reign was now draw- pelled, by the overbearing power of trance, to take an
ing to a close. In July 1746, he was hurried to the grave active part against Great Britain, and fitted out a formidable
by an attack of apoplexv. One memorable event of his fleet, which was united to a considerable naval force belong-
472
SPAIN
History, innr to the French. The Spanish declaration of war against
Britain is dated at Madrid on the 12th of December 1804;
1805. and on the 21st of October 1805, the combined fleets of
France and Spain were annihilated by Lord Nelson off Cape
Trafalgar. After this terrible blow to the naval power of
Spain, nothing of importance took place till 1808, when
the liberties of Spain were subverted by the machinations
of Napoleon. The designs of the French emperor, long
suspected, became sufficiently apparent in 1808. Unfor¬
tunately the dissensions of the royal family of Spain were
so favourable to his plans, that they may be said to have
hurried on their execution. The dark and tortuous policy
by which he effected his purpose, and the course which
events took in Spain, will be found detailed in the arti¬
cle France, so that only a brief notice of the leading
facts will be given in this place. At this time (1807) the
management of state affairs was in the hands of Don Ma¬
nuel Godoy, the favourite of Charles IV. and his queen,
and better known by the name of the Prince of Peace.
He had been raised from the humblest station to be the
richest and most powerful subject in the kingdom, and
to fill its highest posts. Ferdinand, the prince of Astu¬
rias, had refused to marry the sister-in-law of this fortu¬
nate minion, and to secure himself from his vengeance he
wrote to Napoleon asking for protection. At the same time
he exposed the administration of Godoy, in a letter to his
father, and requested to be allowed some participation in the
government. This so enraged the queen that she ordered
his immediate arrest; but, on asking pardon of the king, Fer¬
dinand was restored to liberty, not however before Charles
had taken the fatal step of appealing to Napoleon regard¬
ing his son’s supposed treasonable conduct. The emperor of
France was thus constituted umpire between father and son.
French troops poured into Spain, which wras thrown into a
ferment by the rumour that the royal family were preparing
to fly to America. Popular indignation was kindled against
the hated favourite, who narrowly escaped with his life. At
length Charles abdicated in favour of his son, but two days
afterwards privately protested against his own act, and sent
a copy of this strange paper to Napoleon, who afterwards
made it a pretext for his ulterior designs.
Ferdinand The prince of Asturias, now elevated to the throne un-
VII. der the title of Ferdinand VII. made his triumphal entry
into Madrid. Shortly afterwards he was induced to under¬
take a journey to Bayonne to meet Napoleon, and consult
about the affairs of the kingdom. This memorable inter¬
view took place, and the eyes of Ferdinand were now
thoroughly opened to the designs of the French emperor, by
finding himself a captive in his hands, and his right to be
considered king of Spain rudely denied. The rest of the
royal family eagerly rushed into the snare set for them by
the master of toils at Bayonne. Here father and son sur¬
rendered the crown of Spain into the hands of Napoleon,
by whom it was transferred to the head of his brother
Joseph. But such a momentous event as a change of
dynasties, effected under circumstances of such atrocious
perfidy, could not take place without rousing every loyal
and every indignant feeling in the bosoms of the Spanish
people. No sooner was the fact of the renunciation known,
than the northern provinces burst into open insurrection.
Asturias and Galicia set the example; and it was soon fol¬
lowed by almost every part of Spain not immediately occu¬
pied or overawed by the armies of France. One of the first
steps taken by the leaders of the insurrection vras to as¬
semble the juntas or general assemblies of the provinces.
When these w^ere organized, they issued proclamations,
calling on the Spaniards to rise in defence of their sovereign,
and in the assertion of their own independence. Besides
these proclamations from the provincial juntas, addresses
were published in almost every province by the leaders of
the popular cause ; in particular, the province of Aragon
was addressed by Palafox, a name celebrated in tne annals
of the Spanish revolution, in a bold and spirited manifesto.
The junta of Seville, which assembled on the 27th of May,
formed itself into a supreme junta of government, caused
Ferdinand to be proclaimed king of Spain, took possession
of the military stores, and issued an order for all males from
sixteen to forty-five, who had no children, to enroll them¬
selves in the national armies. On the 4th of July the alliance
of Great Britain with the Spanish nation was proclaimed,
and a struggle began which terminated in the complete ex¬
pulsion of the French from the Peninsula. The events of this
celebrated war will be found recorded in the article Britain.
The loss of the royal family, by which they were deprived
of a directing power, a legitimate head to give the con¬
stitutional stamp to their proceedings, plunged the Span¬
iards in great difficulties. Unity of opinion was wanting
to the junta, and vacillation and weakness marked its pro¬
ceedings. It was unfortunate, that while one spirit animat¬
ed the mass of the people against the French, many of the
nobles and other influential individuals had given in their
adhesion to the French dynasty. The successes of the lat¬
ter were attributed, probably not without some reason, to
treachery; and more than one Spanish general fell a victim
to public indignation, whether justly or unjustly cannot now
be known. But whatever victories the French gained,
they only remained masters of the places which they occu¬
pied. A vast system of guerilla warfare had been orga¬
nized and vigorously prosecuted, which served to preserve
the energy and confidence of the nation unbroken. The
guerillas everywhere surrounded and harassed the French;
no line of communication was safe for them. These petty
achievements, however, could not compensate for the loss
of battles on a large scale, and the capture of fortresses, the
strongholds of the kingdom. The supreme junta fell under
suspicion, and, unable to sustain the weight of government
and the storm of public indignation, it was agreed that the
Cortes should be convoked, and a regency appointed. The
manner in which this celebrated Cortes was constituted has
been a subject of keen disputation ; but the circumstances
in which the kingdom was placed at the time, rendered it
impossible for the members being chosen according to the
ancient forms. It has been alleged that this assembly was
of a much more popular and democratic nature than the
regular Cortes, which is undoubtedly the fact. It ought to
be recollected, however, that the nobles were a suspected
body, and therefore the burgesses and others might consider
it dangerous to admit their voice in a matter which involved
the liberties of the kingdom. But, we repeat, the situation
in which Spain stood at this eventful moment made it a
matter of necessity for those who directed the affairs of the
nation, to act as they did. Had not the progress of the
French armies dispersed the central junta, and concentrat¬
ed the fugitive patriots at Cadiz, it is more than probable
that the Cortes would have been assembled according to the
ancient forms, and that the privileged classes, supported by
the majority of the nation, would have defeated any attempt
to alter the old constitution. But Cadiz offered to that par¬
ty which has been since known by the name of liberal, the
most favourable opportunity of striking a deadly blow at the
very root of the monarchical power under which they had
so long groaned in hopeless yet silent restlessness. Cadiz
was not only in itself a place much more democratic than
any other in Spain, but during the usurpation of the French
it had become the asylum of all who professed liberal prin¬
ciples. As they generally belonged to that numerous class
of the Spanish gentry who look up to the patronage of go¬
vernment for the means of subsistence, the court drew them
together from the provinces. On the prospect of the poli¬
tical changes which the captivity of Ferdinand opened to
the country, these men attached themselves to the central
junta, and finally followed its members in their flight from
SPAIN.
473
New con-
btitution.
History. Seville to Cadiz. Hither, too, flocked all the stragglers of
—the philosophical party; and on the dissolution of that dull,
dilatory knot of ill-assorted men, who, under the veil of dig¬
nified gravity, had for a time concealed their unfitness to
direct the nation, the Spanish speculatists found themselves
in the midst of a population highly disposed to listen to their
doctrines, to approve their views, and constitute them the
organs of the new laws which were to remodel the kingdom.
The majority of the first Cortes being composed of liberals,
the project of a constitution was immediately set on foot,
and a committee of the ablest members appointed to draw
up the fundamental code of the monarchy. Such a task,
at all times arduous, was, in the present circumstances of
the country, beset with peculiar difficulties. Encouraged by
the absence of the king, placed beyond any check from the
privileged classes, and the weight of the landed property of
the country, it is not surprising that the framers of the con¬
stitution allowed their zeal to carry them too far, especially
when it is considered that the Spanish people were almost
entirely unaccustomed to the exercise of civil rights. The
government was wholly remodelled, so that from being the
most absolute monarchy in Europe, it became the most strictly
limited of all limited monarchies. As this constitution, with
the exception of a few alterations, is nearly the same as that
which is now in force, our introducing it in this place will
serve to give greater clearness to the subsequent narrative of
events. It was drawn up by 184 members of Cortes, on
the 18th March 1812. On the 20th of the same month the
regency, which consisted of Cardinal Bourbon and two other
apparently incapable individuals, took the oath to maintain
it. This constitution was acknowledged by the allies of
Spain, namely, Great Britain, Prussia, Russia, Sweden, and
other states.
By one of the first articles in the code, the sovereignty
is declared to reside essentially in the nation, which, being
free and independent, neither is nor can be the patrimony
of any person or family. All Spaniards, without distinc¬
tion, are subject to taxation. “ The religion of the Spa¬
nish nation is, and shall be for ever, the Catholic, Aposto¬
lic, and Roman, which is the only true religion.” “ The
nation,” it is added, “ protects it by wise and just laws, and
forbids the exercise of any other whatever.” The govern¬
ment of the Spanish nation is stated to be “ a limited here¬
ditary monarchy.” The power of making laws is vested “ in
the Cortes, jointly with the king.” In describing the class
of Spaniards who enjoy the privileges of citizenship, per¬
sons “ reputed of African origin, either by the father or
the mother’s side,” are excluded. A similar exclusion is
given to Spaniards who obtain naturalization in another
country, or who, without leave, absent themselves five
years from Spain. The only basis for the number of re¬
presentatives in the Cortes is population, to be taken from
the census of 1797, till one more correct can be made. For
every seventy thousand souls there is to be one deputy in
the Cortes. The returns of the members are made by three
successive elections. Every parish appoints electors for
the district to which it belongs. These repair to the chief
town of the district to choose another set of electors, who,
lastly, meeting in the capital of the province, make the final
appointment to the Cortes. The Cortes are triennial. No
member can be elected for two successive representations.
No debate can be carried on in the presence of the king;
his ministers may attend and speak, but are not allowed to
vote. There is a permanent deputation, or committee of
the Cortes, composed of seven members, appointed by the
whole body, before a prorogation or dissolution, whose duty
is to watch over the executive, and report any infringement History,
of the constitution to the next Cortes. It also belongs to''-—
them to convoke an extraordinary meeting of the Cortes in
the cases prescribed by the constitution.1
The powers of the Cortes are chiefly these : ls£, To move
and pass the laws, and to interpret and alter them when ne¬
cessary ; 2c?, to administer the constitutional oaths to the
king, the prince of Asturias, &c.; 3c?, to determine any
doubt or fact relative to the succession ; \>th, to elect a re¬
gency, and define its power; loth, to make the public re¬
cognition of the prince of Asturias ; §th, to appoint guar¬
dians to the king while a minor; lih, to approve or reject
treaties previous to ratification ; 8?A, to allow or refuse the
admission of foreign troops into the kingdom ; 9M, to de¬
cree the creation or suppression of offices in the tribunals
established by the constitution, as well as of places of pub¬
lic trust; 10th, to fix, every year, by the king’s proposal,
the land and sea forces ; Wth, to regulate the military code
in all its branches; \2th, to fix the expenses of the govern¬
ment ; ISth, to impose taxes, contract loans, and direct
every thing relating to the revenue; \Uh, to establish a
plan of public instruction, and direct the education of the
prince of Asturias ; Ibth, to protect the political liberty of
the press ; 16?^, to enforce the responsibility of the secre¬
taries of state, and other persons in office.
Laws may be proposed, in writing, by any one of the de¬
puties. Two days after the motion, the bill is to be read a
second time. It is then determined whether the subject
is to be debated, or to be referred to a committee. Four
days after the bill has been voted worthy of discussion, it
is read a third time, and a day is appointed for the debate.
A majority of votes decides the fate of the bill; the mem¬
bers present on these occasions must exceed half of their
total number by one.2
The powers of the king are, 1. To suspend the passing
of a law, by withholding his sanction. He can exercise this
power against any decree of the Cortes for two consecu¬
tive sessions ; but is compelled to give his assent if the same
law is passed by three Cortes successively. 2. The exe¬
cutive power resides exclusively in the king, and extends
to whatever relates to the preservation of public order in
the interior, and to the external security of the state, ac¬
cording to the constitution and the laws. The privileges
and duties of the executive are thus detailed in the consti¬
tution. The king may issue decrees, regulations, and in¬
structions, for the more effectually enforcing of the laws;
it is his duty to watch over the administration of justice;
he declares war and makes peace, under the control of the
Cortes; he appoints judges to all the civil and criminal
courts, on the presentation of the council of state; all civil
and military employments are of the king’s appointment;
he presents to all bishoprics, ecclesiastical dignities, and
benefices which may be in the gift of the crown, all by the
advice of the council of state; the king is the fountain of
honour; the army and the navy are at his command, and
he has the appointment of generals and admirals ; he has
the right of coinage, and the privilege of impressing his
bust on the metallic currency of the realm ; the king can
propose new laws, or amendments to those in existence.
It belongs also to him to circulate or withhold the pope’s
rescripts and bulls. He can choose and dismiss his own mi¬
nisters.
The following checks are imposed on the king’s authori¬
ty by the constitution.
1. The king cannot prevent the meeting of the Cortes
at the periods fixed by the constitution, neither can he dis-
The Cortes were separated into two bodies in 1836, and the election was made direct, not indirect.
Some alteration in the powers of the sovereign was made in 1836, when this constitution was adopted. It was then decided, that
the crown should have an absolute veto in the enactment of laws, and should likewise have the power of convoking, proroguing, and
dissolving the Cortes; but in the latter case to be under the obligation of assembling others within a given time.
VOL. XX.
3 o
SPAIN.
474
History, solve them or disturb their sittings; his advisers and abet-
''“'■“v-""'' tors in such attempts are guilty of treason. 2. If the king
should quit the kingdom without the consent of the Cortes,
he is understood to have abdicated the crown. 3. The
king cannot alienate any part of the Spanish territory.
4. He cannot abdicate the crown in favour of his succes¬
sor without the consent of the Cortes. 5. He cannot enter
into any political alliance, or make commercial treaties, with¬
out the consent of the Cortes. 6. He cannot grant privi¬
leges or monopolies. 7. The king cannot disturb any in¬
dividual in the enjoyment of his property, nor deprive him
of his personal liberty. If the interest of the state should
require the arrest of any individual by virtue of a royal
order, the prisoner must be delivered over to a competent
tribunal within eight and forty hours. 8. The king can¬
not marry without the consent of the Cortes; he is sup¬
posed to abdicate the crown by taking a wife against their
will.
The council of state is composed of forty individuals, viz.
two bishops, two priests, and four grandees; the other
thirty-two must not belong to any of these classes. The
members of the council of state shall be chosen by the king,
out of a triple list presented to him by the Cortes. The
councillors of state cannot be removed without a trial be¬
fore the supreme court of justice. Their salary is fixed by
the Cortes. The functions of this council of state are to ad¬
vise the king on all important matters of government, and
especially upon giving or refusing his sanction to the laws,
declaring war, or making treaties. The king, besides, can¬
not bestow any ecclesiastical benefice, or appoint any judge,
but at the proposal of the council of state, who, upon every
vacancy, are to confine his choice to one out of three indi¬
viduals, whose names they are to lay before his majesty.
The laws for the security of personal liberty are these:
1. No Spaniard can be imprisoned without a summary pro¬
cess, in which he is credibly charged with the infraction of
some law that subjects the offender to corporal punish¬
ment ; 2. the arrest cannot take place without the warrant
of a competent judge: 3. prisoners are not to be examined
upon oath ; 4. the gaoler shall keep a register of the pri¬
soners, expressing the warrant, and the alleged cause of his
confinement.
The rapid series of misfortunes which had shaken the
imperial throne of France to its foundations opened the way
for the return of the captive Ferdinand to Madrid. The
constitutionalists looked forward to his appearance in the
country with no favourable eye, and the arrival of despatches
from him to the regency threw them into great consterna¬
tion. Ferdinand announced that he had concluded a treaty
with Napoleon. This assumption of absolute power on the
part of the king, without the knowledge of the Cortes, was
aiming a direct blow at their authority, and violating the
constitution recently established; and they accordingly
rejected the treaty. They likewise suspended the king
from the exercise of all power till he should take the oath
which the new constitution prescribed. He entered the
Spanish territory on the 24th of March 1814, and took up
his residence at Valencia. On his way he had not been
slow to discover that the lower orders were in general in¬
different to the constitution. The fact is, the new political
principles had scarcely struck root among the people; and
with a very considerable party, consisting of grandees, dig¬
nitaries of the church, and others, the king was still absolute,
and these flocked around their master. In the Cortes itself
there was a strong body opposed to the new order of things.
A petition, signed by sixty-nine members, was presented to
the king, in which the Cortes was described as a mere tool
in the hands of a republican party, without freedom of de- History,
bate, and acting under the control of a mob regularly hired v’^V^*
to take possession of the galleries. Nothing, therefore,
could be more favourable to Ferdinand’s resuming absolute
power. Accordingly, on the 4th of May 1814, a decree was
solemnly promulgated, in which the Cortes were declared
illegal, and all their laws consequently rescinded. Some
of the leading members were arrested, as a prelude to what
was shortly to happen. Under their usual leaders, the priests,
the lower orders broke out into fierce demonstrations of joy
when the news of these events reached the chief towns, and
the king proceeded in a sort of triumph to Madrid. Fur¬
ther arrests of the deputies of the late Cortes took place;
property was sequestrated and papers were seized; judges
were appointed to try obnoxious members; but justice prov¬
ing too tardy for the king’s eager spirit of revenge, he him¬
self pronounced sentence on the prisoners in a wholesale
manner, in open defiance of all law and justice. A few
were capitally punished, and a great many more were con¬
signed to dungeons. The inquisition was restored, and was
urged to exert its powers against all persons suspected of
liberal opinions. Monks became once more the sole direc¬
tors of the king’s conscience, and the reign of absolutism
and bigotry was completely restored.
But these arbitrary acts roused the dormant spirit of the
Spanish people, and a revulsion of feeling was the conse¬
quence. In vain did the court party silence the press or
bribe it into their service; facts which could not be con¬
cealed from the people daily pleaded the cause of liberty.
Bribery and venality were soon observed to prevail around
the throne; the treasury was completely drained, and the
army remained unpaid; while, to add to the difficulties and
dangers of Ferdinand’s position, armed bands of guerillas,
now become organized banditti, swarmed over the country,
setting the helpless magistrates at defiance, and commit¬
ting all sorts of atrocities. Free-masonry was abolished, and
effectually kept in check; but a far more dangerous society,
the members of which assumed the name of Comuneros, was
secretly formed, and, in spite of the inquisition and its
emissaries, held meetings in most of the principal towns,
and kept up an active correspondence among their lodges.
The constitution was publicly burned ; but this served only
to spread disaffection, and to give it an importance in the
eyes of the people which it did not formerly possess. Cadiz
having been fixed on as the head-quarters of the liberals,
a regular plan for the overthrow of the government was
there formed, and its secret influence was extended through¬
out the provinces. Our limits do not permit us to mention
the numerous conspiracies which were discovered, and
quenched in blood. They were sufficient to alarm any mo¬
narch but one wholly abandoned to the guidance of weak,
wicked, or fanatical counsellors. Those who ventured to
remonstrate with the king were banished or thrown into
prison. The promise which he had made of granting
a constitution founded on liberal principles remained un¬
fulfilled, and for six years (1814-1820) Ferdinand reigned
with absolute power. During that time there had been no
less than twenty-five changes in the ministry, mostly sud¬
den, and attended with severities. They were produced
by the influence of the camarilla, or individuals in the per¬
sonal service of the king. Every attempt to save the state
was frustrated by such counsellors; and the overthrow of the
government, now apparently inevitable, became accelerated
by the loss of the American colonies.1
The army was the instrument of its fall. Amongst the
officers several conspiracies had been organized for the re¬
storation of the new constitution, at the head of which were
1 It is unnecessary to do more in this place than merely allude to the revolution in the Spanish colonies of South America, which broke
out in 1808, and finally terminated in the achievement of complete independence. Under the heads Mexico, Peru, Plata, &c., the
revolutions in the various provinces will be found described.
SPAIN. 475
History. Porlier, Mina, Lacy, and Vidal. Mina had succeeded in
making his escape, but the others were taken and executed,
their friends at the same time being put to the torture or
thrown into prison^ But these severities had no effect in
repressing the discontent of the army ; for the cause which
immediately produced it was not removed,—the arrears due
to the troops still remained unpaid. The money which
might have been employed for this purpose was foolishly
lavished in fitting out an expedition to destroy the liberties
of the revolted South Americans: by a singular destiny it
became the instrument of the overthrow of despotism at
home, and the restoration of Spanish freedom. The troops
which were to embark in the autumn of 1819, were indis¬
posed to the American service ; and the officers, favourable
to the constitution of the Cortes, took advantage of this state
of feeling to effect their own purposes. Whole regiments
had determined not to embark; and the commander himself,
O’Donnell, count del Abisbal, was in the secret. But he
basely betrayed the cause, and had the principal conspira¬
tors arrested in front of the troops. For this devotion to
despotism he was rewarded by the court party by being
removed from the command of the expedition. Such un¬
grateful conduct towards a man who had forfeited his ho¬
nour to save them, could not fail to bring the Serviles, as
they were designated, into general contempt. A favour¬
able opportunity soon occurred for the liberals carrying
into execution the same plan which had failed through the
perfidy of O’Donnell. The yellow fever having made its
appearance at Cadiz, the safety of the troops which were
there assembled demanded that they should be removed to
some distance, thus leaving the members of the secret so¬
cieties and other patriots at liberty to prosecute their
schemes without fear of violent interruption. The embark¬
ation of the troops had been fixed for January 1820 ; but
on the first of that month, Riego, who had been placed at
the head of the insurrection, gained over several battalions,
and proclaimed the constitution of 1812. He arrested
Calderon, the successor of O’Donnell; and finally joining
Quiroga, a liberated patriot, and at the time in command of
some troops, the combined force, amounting to 5000 men,
marched on La Caracea, which was occupied. They had
previously taken possession of La Isla. But still the coun¬
try showed no disposition to second this bold movement of
the army. In vain Riego led a flying column through the
provinces, proclaiming the constitution, and expecting sup¬
port from the inhabitants; few or none joined him. But
several fortunate circumstances which occurred at this time
materially contributed to the success of the insurrection.
Mina, who had been obliged to fly to France, entered the
Spanish territory of Navarre on the 25th of February, and
a numerous band immediately surrounded his standard.
Risings simultaneously took place in different quarters in
favour of the constitution, which was publicly proclaimed in
Galicia, Saragossa, Valencia, Murcia, Granada, and many
other places. General Freyer, who had been appointed to
the command of the troops in Seville, was himself obliged
to publish the constitution in that city.
These insurrections could not fail to appal the weak, ig¬
norant, and unpopular party which surrounded the throne.
Ferdinand himself saw no general of sufficient ability or
loyalty to be trusted with the command of a large army,
which could soon have been concentrated, for there still
existed fidelity among a sufficient number of the troops.
It was however an expiring feeling, which could only have
been re-animated by a great leader, but which, in the pre¬
sent destitution of the country, a mere breath might ex¬
tinguish. And it was extinguished. Ferdinand was aban¬
doned by his troops. Even O’Donnell,who had acted the
part of traitor to the liberal cause, became one of its princi¬
pal supporters. At Ocana he proclaimed the constitution;
an event which produced a great sensation in Madrid. The
royal palace was surrounded by a crowd, who called on Fer- History,
dinand to accept the constitution, and he now found that no v
alternative was left to his choice. The humbled monarch
appeared at the balcony, holding a copy of the constitution
in his hand, as a pledge of his readiness to swear to its ob¬
servance. This occurred early in March 1820. To give
efficacy and legality to the restoration of the constitution,
it was necessary that the Cortes should be convoked, and
the oath of the king to uphold the new order of things taken
in their presence. The Cortes assembled on the 9th of July,
and all the formalities were regularly observed. Mean¬
while the constitutional system had been put into complete
operation. During its proclamation at Cadiz, a bloody and
disgraceful transaction took place ; some of the royal troops
present wantonly fired on the unarmed multitude, and about
500 were killed or wounded. The inquisition was abolished,
as inconsistent with it, the state-prisoners were liberated,
and new ministers were appointed. In place of the Coun¬
cil of Castille, and that of the Indies, a supreme judicial
tribunal, with appropriate subordinate courts, was established;
national guards were organized in the provinces, and the
municipal authorities were made to conform to the consti¬
tution.
The meeting of the Cortes of 9th July, and their subse¬
quent proceedings, mark the establishment of a new order
of things, destined however to be of short duration. This
assembly acted with extreme moderation, the measures ot
retaliation being infinitely less severe than those which fol¬
lowed the king’s triumph over the constitution. The mem¬
bers strove to temper the violence of the liberals, and en¬
deavoured to restore the afrancesados (those who took the
oath to support the French dynasty) to their rights, to coun¬
teract the machinations of the serviles, and to heal the
wounds of the country. But some of their proceedings
were characterized by less judgment and humanity. The
suppression of many of the convents and of the majorates,
the banishment of the nonjuring clergy, and some other ot
their measures, excited discontents. Various parts of the
country became disgraced by popular excesses, while on
the frontiers of Portugal the royalist party formed a junta
for restoring the privileges of the crown and the church.
Conspiracy and openly avowed disaffection to the new order
of things spread so widely, that when the second session of
the Cortes opened in April 1821, the country was declared
to be in a state of danger. The command of the army hav¬
ing been intrusted to Morillo, quiet was in some measure
restored ; but still it was found necessary to summon an ex¬
traordinary meeting of the Cortes in September. Spanish
affairs in America had now assumed their gloomiest aspect;
and the government wished to compromise the matter by
acknowledging America as a kingdom independent of Spain,
but united with her under a common sovereign, Ferdinand
VII. Such an absurd proposal was rejected with scorn.
The absolutists, although beaten everywhere by the troops
of the government, could not be entirely suppressed; and
even the adherents of the constitution began to complain
of the weaknesses and mistakes of the ministry. The
Cortes requested the king to appoint abler men; and to
this he reluctantly yielded in 1822. Notwithstanding the
errors of the Cortes, considering that the king was with
them, and that his brother Carlos, although approving of
the conduct of the absolutists, had not ventured to join
them, it is probable that the struggles, after continuing for
a few years, might have ended in a compromise, had not
the whole power of France been thrown into the scale of
the serviles.
The events which immediately preceded Ferdinand’s re¬
storation to absolute power, and the complete annulment
of all the acts of the Cortes, were so various and compli¬
cated, that, if fully detailed, they would of themselves more
than occupy all the space within the limits to which this
476 SPAIN.
History, outline of Spanish history must be confined. Into particu-
' lars, therefore, we shall not enter ; only the most import¬
ant transactions can be noticed. Disaffection to the go¬
vernment in the northern provinces, where a strong body
of French troops was stationed as a sanitary cordon during
the prevalence of pestilence in Spain, terminated in open
revolt. The national guards were called out to suppress it,
and they were everywhere victorious; but the pecuniary
resources were chiefly in the hands of the supporters of des¬
potism. In Madrid an occurrence took place in July 1822,
which threatened the most disastrous consequences. This
was a daring attempt of the friends of absolute government
to overthrow the constitution. They were supported by
the royal guards, while the national guards were ranged
on the popular side. A conflict took place, in which
nearly the whole of the royal guards were cut off. But
insurrection, although thus suppressed in the capital, still
prevailed to an alarming extent in Biscay, Navarre, and
Catalonia, where armed bands, under the name of aposto¬
lical troops, or soldiers of the faith, committed re¬
volting cruelties. Near the French frontier, and under
French influence, the absolutists appointed a regency, which
issued orders in the name of the “ imprisoned” king, as they
thought fit to call Ferdinand, although he had recently,
under no compulsion, and seemingly in the most voluntary
manner, again declared his adherence to the constitution.
The avowed object of this regency was the restoration of
every thing to the state in which it had been prior to the
7th of March 1820. But this band of outrageous serviles,
unsupported by the nation, was compelled to fly to France
in November 1822. The foreign relations of Spain now
fell into a state of dreadful disorder; and the principle of
armed intervention pronounced by Austria, Russia, and
Prussia, in relation to this unhappy kingdom, was threaten¬
ed to be acted upon by France. The restoration of Fer¬
dinand to the full enjoyment of sovereign authority was de¬
manded by the four powers named, while England advised
the Cortes to yield, and offered her mediation. But the
Spanish government repelled with indignation this attempt
of foreign powers to interfere in its affairs. The conse¬
quences were the recall of the foreign ambassadors by their
respective courts, and the march of 100,000 French sol¬
diers across the Bidassoa. The duke of Angouleme, by
whom this army was commanded, established a junta, con¬
sisting of Eguia, Calderon, and Erro, who formed a pro¬
visional government, declaring the king the sole depositary
of sovereign power, and that no change in the government
should be recognised but such as the king should make of
his own free choice. All the decrees of the Cortes were
declared void ; in short, the object of French interference
was simply to restore the reign of absolute power. Unfor¬
tunately the Cortes had no ally. The relations of Portugal
to Great Britain did not allow her to conclude a defensive
treaty with Spain. Britain remained neutral; but the ex¬
portation of arms and ammunition to Spain was allowed,
and, in parliament, Canning called the attempt of the French
unjust, and wished the arms of the Cortes success; an ex¬
pression of sympathy which led the Spaniards for a time to
hope that Britain would take a part in the war. Ferdinand,
for greater safety, had removed to Seville, and on the 23d
of April 1823 he formally declared war against France ;
but he in vain called on the nation to support the consti¬
tution. The great mass of the people were completely
under the influence of the most bigoted priesthood in the
world, who of course were absolutists, and hailed the ar¬
rival of the French ; the adherents of the constitution
were confined to the educated class, the army, and the in¬
habitants of cities. The Spanish army might be equal in
strength to that of the French, but a considerable part of
it was disposed in garrisons and fortresses, scattered over
a large surface of country. The military operations of the
French, during their advance upon Madrid, were the siege History,
and capture of several strong towns, and a few partial en- '"'-"“v—-
gagements, in one of which, at least, that of Logrono, they
were defeated. The southern provinces, where the abso¬
lutists had always a preponderancy, were occupied by the
invaders with hardly any resistance; but in Lower Cata¬
lonia, where Mina commanded, they were kept in check
for a considerable time. The main body of the French
army under Angouleme hastened to the capital, which
was occupied on the 24th of May. One of the first steps
taken was to appoint a regency, which put every thing on
the same footing as before March 7, 1820. But the re¬
gency had no pecuniary resources, and no power, if they
had the will, to prevent the furious ebullitions of party
hatred. The Cortes had in vain tried to excite a general
guerilla war; it was but too plain that the mass of the
people, at once miserably ignorant and furiously bigoted,
without any just notions of what rational liberty was, or in
what the new constitution consisted, were content to sur¬
render themselves entirely to the guidance of the priest¬
hood, and consequently everywhere opposed the constitu¬
tionalists. Their hatred was still further increased by the
seizure of all the property of persons of the opposite party,
by a large forced loan, and by the coining of the super¬
fluous church plate, to which measures the want of money
compelled the Cortes to have recourse. The war had now
spread from the south to the north over the whole breadth
of the land, and was actively prosecuted in Andalusia and
Estremadura. An attempt at mediation on the part of the
English ambassador, Sir W. A’Court, failed ; and the king
having refused to go to Cadiz, the Cortes, acting on that
part of the constitution which provides for the moral inca¬
pacity of the sovereign, appointed a regency with royal
powers. We cannot regard this proceeding in any other
light than as a gross indignity offered to the king, and most
impolitic at the time. However, Ferdinand accompanied
the Cortes to Cadiz, and the regency ceased to exist. On
the other hand, the members of the Cortes who had declared
the king morally incapable, were denounced as traitors by
the regency of Madrid, which now became recognised by
foreign powers, Austria, Prussia, and France, as the only
legitimate government of Spain.
Meanwhile the war was briskly carried on, but nothing
would induce the people to join the constitutionalists, who
accordingly were gradually driven from stronghold to strong¬
hold, although in some places they made a gallant resist¬
ance. Defection among the officers of the army materi¬
ally contributed to the downfall of their cause. Morillo
and Sarsfield were among the deserters. The regency of
Madrid conducted themselves in a cruel and outrageous
manner towards the friends of the constitution, notwith¬
standing the strenuous efforts of the French generalissimo
to restrain their fury. The duke of Angouleme took pos¬
session of the city of Cadiz on the 4th October 1823.
Previously to this, the Cortes had reinvested Ferdinand
with absolute power, and requested him to remove to the
French head-quarters, where he was received with becom¬
ing pomp. The first measure of the king was to de¬
clare all the acts of the constitutional government from
March 7, 1820, to October 1, 1823, null and void, on the
ground that during that period he was acting under com¬
pulsion. I he war terminated in November; and on the
22d of that month the duke of Angouleme took his leave
of the army of the Pyrenees. Among the crowds of fugi¬
tives were Mina and the count of Abisbal; and among the
victims capitally punished was Riego, who suffered at Mad¬
rid on the 7th of November 1823.
The party which now succeeded to power, although weak
from want of means, was powerful enough to exercise a
persecuting and vindictive policy towards the former par¬
tisans of the constitution. The French wished to secure
SPAIN.
477
History, mildness and moderation, but the bad laitli of the Spanish
government frustrated these objects. To restrain the
violence of party fury, which so widely prevailed, a treaty
was concluded with France, by which that power agreed
to maintain a large military force in the country, until the
Spanish army could be organized. This was certainly a wise
measure in the circumstances; for Spain, if left to itself,
would probably have fallen into irretrievable confusion. It
was divided by two parties, who mortally hated each other ;
and the bonds of society, already shaken loose by years of
war and unrestrained licentiousness, required little more to
dissolve them altogether. The reports from the provinces
were appalling; the treasury was empty ; home and foreign
credit were alike destroyed ; and trade and commerce were
paralyzed. The personal moderation of the king led to the
formation of a plot by the absolutists, to compel him to ab¬
dicate, and to raise his brother Carlos to the throne. This
was the origin of the Carlists, who make so conspicuous a
figure in the sequel. An attempt to restore the inquisi¬
tion was happily frustrated. In May 1824, a decree of am¬
nesty appeared; but it was a mere mockery, for it con¬
tained so many exemptions, that those who were to enjoy
its benefits seemed rather to form the exception than the
rule. The year 1825 was disturbed by several insurrec¬
tions of the Carlists, which were attended with numerous
executions. The independence of the American colonies
was recognised by foreign powers, but Spain herself did not
acknowledge it till the year 1836. The general interrup¬
tion of commerce and industry, with the flight of many
persons of property, occasioned much distress. The dis¬
turbances continued for some years, attended with the same
marks of feebleness on the part of the government, and a
continuance of general distress. It was a period of terror
for the liberals, who were plundered and imprisoned on the
slightest pretexts. The army, purged of all officers sus¬
pected of liberalism, was recruited by a motley throng of
adventurers, friars, smugglers, mechanics, publicans, and
muleteers, who had been officers in the guerilla bands of
Catalonia and Navarre. The ranks being replenished in
this manner, the French troops were enabled to evacuate
Spain in 1828. Some insurrections, which had broken out
during the preceding year, were suppressed without much
trouble; and in spite of the arbitrary rule of the Carlists,
their tortuous policy, and their open violence, the country
began to show some symptoms of improvement.
In May 1829, Ferdinand lost his queen, and on the 9th
of November following, her place was supplied by a Neapo¬
litan princess, Christina Maria. Unblessed with issue by
his three former marriages, the hope and the desire of hav¬
ing a child of his own to inherit his honours and preserve
the throne to his dynasty, probably hastened the nuptials
of Ferdinand. The French revolution of 1830 caused
much less sensation in Spain than might have been ex¬
pected. The fact is, the liberal party had been so devour¬
ed or dispersed by the sword, the scaffold, exile, and the
dungeon, that in the country itself it was not powerful; but
a rash and ill-judged attempt in the constitutional cause was
made from without. General Mina assembled a body of refu¬
gees and others, and invaded the Basque provinces; but they
were speedily repelled, and sought refuge in France. Mean¬
while, some events of momentous importance had taken
place in the royal family. The Infant Don Carlos was
presumptive heir of the throne ; the succession to the Spa¬
nish crown had been subjected to the Salic law by Philip
V., so that, as matters stood at present, no daughter of
the reigning king could interrupt its descent to his brother.
The queen of Ferdinand was about to make him a father,
and in order to secure the crown to his own child, should
the issue prove a female, he resolved on revoking the Salic
law, whicb excludes females. It is important to observe,
that, in 1789, Charles IV. issued a pragmatic sanction, hav¬
ing the force of law, and establishing the regular succession History
to the crown of Spain in females as well as males. The
Cortes of 1812 likewise solemnly revoked the law of Philip
V., and re-established the old law of the Partidas. But as
Ferdinand had annulled the acts of that assembly, and as
the decree of Charles IV. might be cavilled at by the fierce
and intolerant party who wished that Carlos should suc¬
ceed to the throne, the king obtained the records of the
Cortes of 1789 regarding the succession, and on the mar¬
gin opposite the decree of Charles IV., with his own hand,
wrote a decree to the same effect. The minister, Ca-
lomarde (a Carlist at heart), remonstrated with the king
against its publication; but Ferdinand was firm, and or¬
dered the resolution to be carried into effect. In com¬
pliance with this demand, the whole was forwarded to the
council; and in the gazette of the 6th of April 1830, the
edict was published to the world. It was likewise regular¬
ly proclaimed in the streets of Madrid with the usual for¬
malities. Ferdinand’s foresight was justified. The infant
with which the queen presented him was a daughter, born
on the 10th of October, and christened Isabella Maria Luisa.
But the Carlists did not wait for the expected birth of
the heir to the throne to show how terribly the publication
of the decree had staggered them. They rushed into hasty
plots against the government, which were detected before
they were ripe for execution; and in various ways showed
their chagrin and irritation. In order to render the suc¬
cession still more secure, Ferdinand called a meeting of
the Cortes, before which the edict of Philip V. was again
repealed, and his daughter, the Infante Isabel, recognised
as princess of the Asturias. An insurrection broke out in
Cadiz in 1831, at the head of which was General Torrijas.
It was soon quelled, and the leader, with fifty-three com¬
panions, fled to Malaga, where they were taken prisoners,
and all shot in cold blood. The other events of this year
are unimportant, with the exception of a sudden illness of
the king, which so excited the hopes of the Carlists, that
they strenuously urged their master to take advantage of
the circumstance, and at once seize the crown. This re¬
markable fact shows with what spirit they were animated.
It was not a love of justice, but ambition, and a spirit of
vindictive hostility to the constitutionalists, who now began
to be tolerated, that instigated them to attempt the exalta¬
tion of Carlos to the throne, and that at all hazards, even
before he possessed the semblance of a claim to it; for
while Ferdinand lived, by what right could he grasp at his
sceptre ? Yet his partisans extol his magnanimity in refus¬
ing it at this time.
In the course of the year 1832, Ferdinand had an alarm¬
ing relapse of his disease, during the paroxysms of which
a transaction took place of the utmost importance in itself,
and which has been very differently represented by differ¬
ent parties. It was the signing of a decree by which he re¬
stored the Salic law to full operation, and the further con¬
firming the disinheriting of his daughter, by annulling his
testament in her favour. It is certain that the ministers
strenuously urged him to adopt this measure ; and that they
were under Carlist influence, is no less certain. Every
thing was accomplished to their wishes ; the document was
signed and properly secured, and the king appeared to have
fallen into the sleep of death. His dissolution indeed was
announced ; but, contrary to all human expectation, the dis¬
ease took a favourable turn; all symptoms of immediate
danger disappeared, and consciousness and understanding
were restored to Ferdinand. The use which he made of
the lucid interval thus vouchsafed to him, was to dismiss his
ministers, to appoint the queen regent during his illness,
and to undo what he had lately done regarding the succes¬
sion, thus restoring to his daughter her right to the throne.
The decree to this effect was issued on the last day of the
year. The former ordinance, he declared, had been extort-
478
SPAIN.
History. ed from him, not only when he was in the agonies of ex-
 ✓^"pected death, but under false misrepresentations that all
Spain demanded it, and that the inviolability of the monar¬
chy required it; whereas it had only been desired by an
ambitious and unscrupulous faction, and was opposed to the
fundamental laws of the kingdom. A more liberal minis¬
try was formed, and some liberal measures were adopted;
high expectations were raised that milder times were at
hand, and the funds in Madrid rose ten per cent. Early in
1833, Ferdinand was able to resume the reins of govern¬
ment. On the 20th of June he assembled the Cortes to
swear allegiance to his daughter, and do homage to her
as their future sovereign. This solemnity was performed
with great pomp in the church of the royal monastery of
St Jerome. Don Carlos refused to take the oath ; but pre¬
viously to this he had taken up his residence in Portugal,
where Don Miguel was playing the same desperate game
which he himself was about to undertake. Ferdinand sur¬
vived the ceremony of \hejura only a few months. He ex¬
pired on the 29th of September 1833, leaving a will, in
which he appointed his daughter Isabella heir to the crown,
and her mother regent during her minority.
No sooner was Isabella II. proclaimed queen, than Don
Carlos announced his claim to the throne, and the flames of
civil war burst out in the northern provinces, where his par¬
tisans, assembled in great numbers, stood ready armed for
the contest. Of the bloody and protracted struggle for the
throne which ensued, we can afford room for few details ;
indeed, an account of the numerous battles, skirmishes,
_ sieges, and other warlike operations, would prove a very
uninteresting and monotonous portion of the modern his¬
tory of Spain. Isabella was acknowledged without opposi¬
tion throughout all the provinces of Spain, and by the lead¬
ing powers of Europe. The question of the Spanish suc¬
cession, apart altogether from the bloody war to which it
gave rise, has been keenly agitated in this and many other
countries. It may be briefly stated as follows. Carlos’s
right rested upon the Salic law, which had never the force of
law in Spain. The Salic law was not the ancient rule of
succession; it was first introduced by the Bourbon Philip V.,
the great-grandfather of Don Carlos. Females could always
succeed in Castille, Leon, and Portugal. It was by mar¬
riage with the heiress of Navarre that a king of France ob¬
tained a claim to that kingdom; and although females were
excluded in Aragon, yet it was through a princess that its
inheritance passed to the counts of Catalonia. It was by
the right of female succession that the house of Austria
reigned in Spain ; it was by the same right that the Bour¬
bons themselves occupied the throne. It formed a part of
the Partidas, or system of constitutional law, which Philip
swore to observe on his succession to the throne. The
Salic law, on which Carlos grounds his claim, could only
be established in two ways ; by the old forms of the con¬
stitution, or by the despotic will of the sovereign. If the
advocates of Don Carlos take their stand on the former
ground, the answer is, that the forms as well as the sub¬
stance of the constitution were violated when Philip V. es¬
tablished his law of succession ; and that, conscious of its in¬
validity, he did not register it in the form usual with similar
acts; while again, if we pass over the Cortes of 1789 as
secret and irregular, we have the Cortes of Cadiz in 1812,
which abolished the decree of Philip, and restored the an¬
cient law of the Partidas. But Ferdinand having annulled
the proceedings of this body, its re-establishment of the
right of female succession must fall to the ground with its
other decrees. There is however Ferdinand’s own de¬
cree, constituting his daughter his successor, which was just
as regularly sanctioned by the Cortes as Philip’s law of suc¬
cession. If, on the other hand, the sovereign is to be re¬
garded as despotic in Spain, the question is at an end; for
even Carlos must acknowledge that Ferdinand had a right
to regulate the succession according to his own royal plea¬
sure. This view seemed to have been taken by the king’s'
confessor, and his minister Calomarde, when, during his
dangerous illness at La Granja in 1832, they induced him
to sign a new will, settling the crown on Don Carlos. Fer¬
dinand’s recovery disconcerted their plan ; but their effort
plainly shows that the partisans of Don Carlos at that time
felt that the Salic law was a very weak support to their
favourite’s claims. The transaction by which Ferdinand
(supposed to be on his death-bed) transferred the crown
to his brother, is admitted by the Carlists to have been a
perfectly legal proceeding. Can the subsequent transaction,
by which, under exactly similar circumstances, the king ap¬
pointed his daughter his successor, be considered otherwise
than as an equally legal proceeding ? If the constitution
be referred to, the question is decided against Don Carlos;
the will of the sovereign is against his claim; and, what is
of yet more consequence, as the event has shown, the will
of the majority of the nation is against him.
It was in the northern provinces, in Navarre, Guipuscoa,
Biscay, and Alava, that the strength of Don Carlos lay.
Here he was immediately proclaimed in several towns by
the title of Charles V., and bands of Carlist guerillas as¬
sembled to maintain his right to the throne. He himself
still hovered a fugitive on the frontiers of Portugal, his
movements being closely watched by a royal force under
General Kodil. Another strong division of the queen’s
army, under General Sarsfield, marched against the disaf¬
fected provinces. The Carlists retired before him; Bilboa
and other towns were occupied and garrisoned; the con¬
stitutional party was restored in several places where it had
lost ground ; and the insurrection seemed at first to have
been happily put down without much loss. But early in
1834 the affairs of the Carlists assumed altogether a new
aspect. Hitherto their operations were carried on in an
unconnected manner ; this system was now exchanged for
one of steady unity of design. Indeed so numerous were
the adherents of Don Carlos in the north, that there was
only required a firm hand to seize the reins, control local
jealousies, and direct aright the energies of the provinces.
Such a man was Don Thomas Zumalacarregui, who now
assumed the chief command of the Carlists. He was admi¬
rably skilled in the desultory warfare of these provinces,
and well acquainted with the country and with the charac¬
ter of the inhabitants. By his activity and enterprise he
repeatedly inflicted severe blows upon the forces of the
queen, or the Christinos, as they were generally called. His
method of fighting was to surprise the enemy in an unpro¬
tected position, and cut off as many of them as he could
before they recovered from their panic. His troops would
then suddenly separate and fly, but only to unite again at
a predetermined point some miles in the rear. By this
mode of warfare he caused great loss to the Christinos,
while his own small band suffered little. The Christino
army under General Rodil, who had now obtained the chief
command, might amount to 20,000 men, and was thus suf¬
ficiently strong at least to have confined Zumalacarregui
to the mountains; but it was greatly reduced by several
thousand troops having been distributed among a number
of petty fortresses, most of which, one after the other, fell
a prey to the Carlist chieftain. It was further weakened
by being divided into different corps and scattered over the
country. Rodil found it necessary to resign the command,
which now devolved upon Mina, from whom much was ex¬
pected. Nor did he disappoint the hopes which were formed
of him. Just before his appointment, Generals O’Doyle
and Asina had severally been defeated with great loss by
Zumalacarregui, which occasioned much alarm at Madrid,
and loud outcries against the ministry. But the old war¬
rior, though broken by sickness and infirmities, restored
confidence by making head against the hitherto victori-
History.
SPAIN.
479
gistory. ous Carlists, and bringing victory to the standards of the
queen.
In the mean while. Don Carlos, after paying a short visit
to England, made his appearance in Spain; and his presence
among his partisans greatly strengthened his cause in the
northern provinces. France and Britain had acknowledged
Queen Isabella II. These two powers, along with Portu¬
gal, entered into a treaty with Spain, the conditions of which
quadruple alliance were, that France should watch the fron¬
tiers, so that the insurgents might receive no aid from that
country; that Britain should supply such arms and muni¬
tions of war as the Spanish government should stand in
need of, whilst at the same time she should guard the north¬
ern ports of Spain, so as to prevent the insurgents from re¬
ceiving any assistance in men, money, or ammunition, and
also assist the queen with a naval force; and that Portugal
should co-operate by every means in her power: but that
country was at the time in too embarrassed a situation to
render any efficient assistance. As soon as the arrival of
Don Carlos in Navarre was known, the four powers who had
been parties to the treaty renewed its stipulations, in re¬
spect that its object had not yet been attained. This
imparted confidence and vigour to the cabinet of Madrid,
of which it stood greatly in need. A variety of measures
occupied the attention of government during the year
1834<, not the least important of which was the plan ot a
new charter or constitution. It is quite unnecessary to
enter into any details of what the Cortes proposed should
be done, as every thing was overturned and put upon a
new footing by a revolution which occurred two years af¬
terwards. The financial state of Spain, particularly the
large debt which the government owed to foreign nations,
formed a subject of protracted discussion. Doubts were
raised as to whether a part of it was legitimately owing;
but the debates in the Cortes terminated in the whole being
recognised as justly due. This contributed to restore the
credit of Spain in foreign money-markets, where it had been
greatly shaken, and enabled the government to contract
for a new loan. Another measure of importance which
engaged the attention of the Cortes, was the passing of a
bill of exclusion from the throne against Carlos and his de¬
scendants. During the year the ministry had undergone
a complete change, chiefly through the instrumentality of
a popular leader of the name of Llauder. Zea was super¬
seded in the office of prime minister by Martinez de la
Bosa, supposed to be a person of more liberal predilec¬
tions.
The military operations of 1835 were prosecuted with
great vigour on the part of the Carlists. Several import¬
ant towns and fortresses fell into their hands, and siege
was laid to Bilboa, the capital of Biscay. After sustaining
a furious bombardment for several days, the place was re¬
lieved, principally through the instrumentality of some Bri¬
tish gunners under Lord John Hay, commander of a ship
of war then on the coast of Biscay. It was during the
attack on Bilboa that Zumalacarregui received the wound
of which he died on the 23d of June. The death of this
chief threw a gloom on the affairs of Don Carlos: it was
the severest loss which his cause had sustained, and he
never properly recovered it. Among the Christines this
event diffused a joy and hope which they made no efforts
to conceal. Worn out by long service, by age, and by dis¬
ease, the veteran Mina resigned the command, which ulti¬
mately devolved upon General Cordova, under whom was
the celebrated Espartei'o. The Spanish government hav¬
ing been permitted to levy a body of mercenaries in Great
Britain, several thousand recruits were raised in this
country, and were led to the theatre of war in Spain under
the command of General Evans. The British legion soon
took an active part in the war, and distinguished itself upon
various occasions. The Carlist army, although it aban¬
doned the siege of Bilboa, still continued in the neighbour- History,
hood, prepared to take advantage of circumstances. An
opportunity soon occurred for attacking the Christinos at
the village of Arrigoriaga, which they made an attempt to
pass. The royalists were driven back with considerable
loss, and this check for the time interrupted the movements
of Cordova’s army. On the other hand, the Christinos
laid claim to more than one victory gained over their ene¬
mies ; but these doubtful and unproductive skirmishes,
which in the flush and enthusiasm of triumph were magni¬
fied into decisive battles, are too insignificant to require
a detail in this place. At the close of 1835, matters stood
much as they did at the commencement of the year. But
the war was now carried on with more humanity than for¬
merly. A strong remonstrance on the part of the British
government, against the barbarous practice of putting
prisoners to death, had the desired effect, at least for
a time, of staying the effusion of blood in this inhuman
manner.
Those parts of Spain exempt from the horrors of war,
were for the most part subjected to the scourge of political
anarchy. The new government of the queen-regent had
been founded on an abandonment of the old system of un¬
mitigated despotism. Her daughter’s throne was to be
identified with more liberal institutions, and was thus to be
protected by all political reformers, all who were inimical
to absolutism. But the extent to which the old system was
to be abandoned, and the form in which a popular govern¬
ment was to be established, were questions regarding which
every possible diversity of opinion prevailed. The un¬
quiet elements thus at work showed themselves first in a
military revolt, and then in the revolt of several provinces,
in which the democratic party sought to usurp the powers
of government. For a time they set the lawful authorities
at defiance, for the government of Madrid was helpless.
Even here disaffection had spread to a most alarming ex¬
tent, the urban militia having openly revolted. In vain
were royal decrees issued, and strong measures put in force
to repress the disturbances ; an open war between the go¬
vernment and numerous sections of the liberals seemed on
the eve of breaking out. Fortunately this was averted by
a change of the ministry, which was loudly demanded by
the factious opposition. The life and soul of the new mi¬
nistry was Mendizabel, a man of great vigour, and very
popular among the people, on account of his liberal prin¬
ciples. He condemned the repressive measures which had
been acted upon, adopted a more lenient system of deal¬
ing with the malcontents, and proposed various alterations
in the constitution, the mere mention of which sufficed to
restore the country to comparative tranquillity. But all
the deliberations of the ministry and the Cortes were ren¬
dered abortive by the military revolution which broke out
at Malaga on the 25th of July 1836. The object of the ultra
liberals had uniformly been the restoration of the consti¬
tution of 1812. Without this no change of ministers could
satisfy them, and no vigilance on the part of government
could prevent them from covertly prosecuting their designs,
It was with the national guard that the revolt originated.
In Malaga the governor was assassinated, and a junta was
appointed to proclaim the constitution. Intelligence of
these events spread throughout the country with the greatest
rapidity. Cadiz and Saragossa took up the signal nearly
at the same moment; and they were instantly followed by
Seville, Cordova, Granada, and Valencia. At length the
capital itself joined the insurgent cities; and on the 13th of
August the queen, now deserted and helpless, was com¬
pelled to issue a decree, promising the restoration of the
constitution of 1812. But all men who were reasonable
and honest in their politics felt and admitted that some al¬
terations in that code were quite indispensable. The Cortes
accordingly appointed a committee to consider and propose
«
480
SPAIN.
History, such alterations as were necessary and advisable; and this
they accomplished in a highly satisfactory manner. The
changes recommended and finally adopted by the Cortes
were, 1st, that the part of the constitution which contain¬
ed mere regulations and forms, and regarded organic bodies
and laws, should be entirely suppressed: 2dly, that in¬
stead of the Cortes continuing to form, as they did under
the constitution of 1812, only one body, they should now
consist of two bodies, differing from each other in the per¬
sonal qualification of their members, &c. but neither to be
hereditary nor privileged: 3dly, that the crown should have
an absolute veto in the enactment of laws, and should like¬
wise have the power of convoking, proroguing, and dis¬
solving the Cortes ; but in the latter case to be under
the obligation of assembling others within a given time:
4thly, that the election of members of the Cortes should
be direct, and not indirect, as established by the constitu¬
tion of 1812.
While Spain was thus undergoing the most momentous
political changes, the very existence of the queen’s govern¬
ment was threatened by the Carlists, wdio were making
alarming progress in the very centre of the kingdom.
During the early part of the year the Christines attacked
the position of the Carlists at Arlavan, but with so little
success that they were compelled to make a retrograde
movement. However, early in May, the British legion,
under General Evans, gallantly carried the Carlist lines be¬
fore St Sebastian ; but unfortunately this victory, like many
others gained, was productive of no important result, chiefly
through the sloth and inactivity of the Spanish generals.
The circumstance which created the great alarm to which
allusion has been made, was the march of a large body of
Carlists under Gomez through the very heart of Spain.
This chief penetrated from province to province, to the
centre of Andalusia, laying the country under heavy con¬
tribution, and carrying off loads of booty from every place
which he visited. The audacity of this enterprise seems
for a time to have paralyzed the royalists. Consternation
spread over Spain from Madrid to Gibraltar. Gomez at¬
tacked and carried several towns, and some bodies of troops
who attempted to arrest his progress were totally destroyed.
No less than three distinguished Spanish generals, each
with a large army, were despatched to cut him off; but all
their efforts to entrap him and his daring band proved fruit¬
less. He was repeatedly surrounded, and apparently on
the eve of being taken, but always succeeded in effecting
his escape. At length, however, he was hemmed in to the
sea-coast at San Roque, and his destruction seemed inevi¬
table ; but, by a daring and masterly movement, he broke
through the line which encompassed him, and secured his
retreat to the strongholds of the north.
Towards the close of 1836, the town of Bilboa was again
invested by the Carlists, to whom it was an object of great
importance, as being a city of sufficient consideration to
give dignity to the court of Carlos, and an appearance of
permanence to his establishment. It was, besides, the ca¬
pital of Biscay, and inseparably connected, in the eyes of
the Basques, with \he\r fueros and local parliament. The
siege was carried on with an ardour corresponding with the
importance attached to the place. The defence was equally
spirited and heroic. During the sixty days which the in¬
vestment lasted, the fortitude of the besieged was put to
the severest test, not only by the long-continued fire of the
Carlists, by their repeated attacks, and by their mining
operations, but by want of proper food and by sickness. At'
length General Espartero succeeded in compelling the Car-
lists to retire with the loss of all their guns and materiel
for the siege, and Bilboa was relieved. The intelligence
was received at Madrid with unbounded enthusiasm, and
honours and rewards were heaped upon the defenders, and
those who had so opportunely relieved them. The Chris¬
tines, however, as usual, neglected to follow up the success, History,
allowing the Carlists to remain unmolested in the neigh-
bourhood. Near St Sebastian they mustered very strong
during the early part of 1837, and here they were attacked
by the Anglo-Christinos under General Evans, and driven
back with some loss; but receiving a great accession of
strength, the Carlists in their turn compelled the royalists
to retreat with at least equal loss. The affair of Hernani
•would have been much more disastrous, but for the steady
bravery of a small body of British marines, who checked
the advance of the Carlists, and retired to St Sebastian in
good order. In a subsequent attack on Irun and Fuent-
arabia, General Evans was completely successful; but it
seems perfectly clear that this officer was never cordially
supported by the Spanish commanders. The defeat before
Hernani would never have taken place had Espartero and
Sarsfield supported him according to the concerted plan.
The time for which the British legion volunteered its ser¬
vices expired in the month of May, and shortly afterwards
it disbanded, nearly the whole returning to England in the
most destitute condition. Meanwhile Don Carlos had follow¬
ed the example of Gomez, by marching an army through the
central parts of the kingdom. Our limits will not permit us to
follow him in this daring but useless expedition. One body
of Carlists advanced within a few leagues of Madrid, and
all was consternation in the capital. But the Christine
generals concentrating their forces, compelled the main
body of the Carlist army to retire from the provinces into
which it had made so fierce an irruption. Disunion also
began to show itself in the camp of Don Carlos, so that,
disappointed and disheartened, he retreated to his old
fastness beyond the Ebro, accompanied however by a
large convoy of booty. Besides these military operations,
prosecuted on a large scale, there was a system of desultory
warfare maintained all over the country, more destructive in
its effects upon the inhabitants than the regular operations
of an army. Brigandage, never viewed with much horror
in Spain, had now become as common as a lawful trade.
Remorseless cruelty characterized the proceedings of all
parties ; and civil life, except in the large towns, seemed for
the time suspended.
The civil and parliamentary history of Spain for 1837
presents little that is of any importance. The new consti¬
tution formed a fruitful theme of discussion in the Cortes.
After undergoing the alterations already mentioned, and
some others of less moment, it was solemnly ratified by the
queen-regent in the Cortes, and proclaimed to the nation.
It is worthy of being noticed, that an attempt to introduce
toleration in religious matters, by an amendment to the
article which establishes the Catholic faith, met with the
strongest opposition. This striking fact shows how deeply
rooted the old Spanish bigotry remains in the national mind.
During the year, bills were passed for the suppression of
religious houses, and the abolition of the payment of tithes,
the maintenance of the clergy being left to the government.
Several judicious ecclesiastical reforms were projected; and
among other important measures passed by the Cortes, was
the abolition of the local parliaments in the Basque provin¬
ces. Ministerial changes repeatedly took place during the
year, but into these we shall not enter.
The military operations of the Carlists in 1838 were less
successful and less enterprising than they had been during
the two previous years. Cabrera, indeed, a general who
had frequently signalized his talents for war, had firmly es¬
tablished himself in Aragon and Valencia, and the bands of
partisans allowed no respite to the distracted provinces;
but we have to record none of those daring and brilliant
flying expeditions which more than once traversed Spain
in all directions with such celerity and success as to com¬
mand the attention of Europe. Something of this kind was
indeed attempted by Basilio Garcia, and by Tallada, but
SPAIN.
481
History.
both these generals were signally defeated. The cause of
Don Carlos was now visibly declining: the best and bravest
of the chiefs who had served him had successively incurred
his displeasure, and were either in disgrace, exile, or con¬
finement ; above all, the country was beginning to be favour¬
ably disposed to the queen. Her troops however were very
unsuccessful in the field. General Orad was defeated at
Morelia, and General Alaix also suffered a repulse. But
the principal battle fought between the Carlists and Chris¬
tines was that of Maella, where General Cabrera completely
routed the queen’s troops under Bardinas, but sullied his
victory by butchering nearly two hundred prisoners in cold
blood. The war throughout had been disgraced by similar
atrocities, notwithstanding the efforts of Britain to put a
stop to them. Both parties appear to have been equally
guilty of this inhuman practice. The operations of Espar-
tero were feeble and uncertain. He did little but march
a large army from place to place, without striking a decisive
blow. As usual, almost every part of Spain continued to
be ravaged by guerilla bands, who swarmed over the pro¬
vinces with no other objects in view but plunder and blood¬
shed. During the year, the Cortes had twice met; their de¬
liberations chiefly referred to the state of the finances and
the negociation of a loan, which was not effected. The
ministry, always feeble, had now become more feeble than
ever, notwithstanding that changes were continually taking
place. The queen-regent found it impossible to form a
strong government in the present political state of the coun¬
try. Its helplessness was such that the generals command¬
ing in the different provinces found it necessary to act in¬
dependently of its arrangements, and to appropriate the
revenues of each province to the payment of the military
expenses incurred in it, instead of allowing the monies to
pass into the treasury. 1 hus General Van Halen, who had
organized a fine army of 40,000 men, called the army of the
centre, after declaring the kingdoms of Aragon, Valencia,
and Murcia, in a state of siege for the rest of the war, and
that in future the civil were to consider themselves in sub¬
ordination to the military authorities, proclaimed, that the
entire revenues of those provinces should be paid into the
military chest, and exclusively appropriated to the expenses
of the war. This was probably the very wisest measure
that could have been adopted for bringing the war to a
speedy termination. Want of pay bad repeatedly paralyzed
the operations of the Christino armies ; it had dispersed the
British legion; and at this very moment it was exciting
discontent, if not revolt, in the camp of Don Carlos. To
place the pay of the queen’s troops upon a sure footing, was
therefore the first step to secure ultimate triumph in the
field.
During 1839, the cause of Don Carlos rapidly declined,
notwithstanding the desperate efforts made by Generals Ca¬
brera and Maroto to maintain it. Espartero, the comman-
der-m-chief of the queen’s troops, after some hard fighting,
cut off the Carlists completely from the plains of Alava,
while Diego Leon likewise expelled them from the rich
country between the mountains and the Ebro. Many
towns and fortresses of importance, one after another, sub¬
mitted to the triumphant Christines, so that almost the only
parts of Biscay which now owned the authority of Carlos
were rugged mountainous tracts of country, whither no re-
guar army could follow the fugitives. An armistice was
a ength concluded between Maroto and Espartero, which
was followed by twenty-one Carlist battalions laying down
their arms. Don Carlos himself, reduced to the last ex¬
tremity, fled for refuge into France, where he formally
renounced his pretensions to the throne of Spain, under
cer am conditions alike reasonable and necessary. The
ques ion relative to the fueros of the Basques and Na-
varre, -which, it will be recollected, had been abolished,
se much uneasiness. It seemed perfectly evident that
VOL. xx.
these important provinces would not be satisfied, or com- History,
pletely surrender themselves to the queen’s authority, unless v',—“v'"—'
their local privileges were restored. After some debating
in the Cortes this measure was agreed to, government stipu¬
lating that it would so modify the fueros as to reconcile the
interests of these provinces with those of the nation, and
with the constitution of the monarchy. The only Carlist
chief who gave any uneasiness to the government was Ca¬
brera, who, little affected by the pacification of the northern
pi evinces, still maintained his footing in Valencia, deter¬
mined to support the cause of Carlos while an army remain¬
ed to back him.
In 1840 the war against Cabrera was vigorously prose¬
cuted under the auspices of Generals Espartero and
O Donnell, and at length the Carlist chief was reduced to
such extremities, that he crossed over to France, where
he was immediately arrested by the French authorities.
Early in July of that year the queen-regent, accom¬
panied by her royal daughter, set out for Barcelona, and
was at first received with great rejoicing and every mark
of respect; but in a few days the scene was changed, and
she was hooted and insulted by the populace as she rode
through the streets in her carriage. The national guard
were called out, and a conflict took place between them
and the mob ; but the insurrection was not put down till
Espartero brought a body of troops of the line against
them and put them to flight. The chief cause of this un¬
popularity of the regent was her determining to have a
bill passed which would place the chief municipal appoint¬
ments in the hands of the crown, and thus deprive the
inhabitants of the various towns of any control over their
civic functionaries. The regent carried her measure, and
the next day Espartero, who was strongly opposed to it,
sent in his resignation as general of the forces. It would
be tedious and uninteresting to detail the political intrigues
and changes that were occasioned by the obstinacy of the
queen. The popular excitement against the measure was
so strong, that the ministry were obliged to resign, and at
length the queen had to yield and send for Espartero, to
whom she gave full power to form a cabinet. To every
condition imposed upon her she gave her consent, except
to that of having any one associated with her in the
regency. She declared that, rather than submit to that
she would abdicate altogether; and accordingly, though
strongly dissuaded from such a step, she abdicated on the
12th October 1840. She then set out for Marseilles and
thence to Paris, where she was received with every honour
by the French king, and had apartments provided for her
in the Palais-Royal. About the end of this year a dispute
arose with Portugal respecting the navigation of the Douro,
which was likely at one time to lead to hostilities between the
two countries, but which at length was fortunately settled.
When the Cortes met in April 1841, Espartero was, by
a majority of votes, elected sole regent. The queen-
mother was also requested to relinquish the guardianship of
her daughter, but she would only consent to this on con¬
ditions which the government could not agree to, and they
accordingly declared the office vacant, and afterwards ap¬
pointed Senor Arguelles guardian of the young queen and
her sister. The ex-queen, however, was not without
friends in Spain, and early in October an insurrection
broke out in Pampeluna, where General O’Donnell suc¬
ceeded in gaining possession of the citadel. A similar
outbreak took place in Vittoria, and on the night of the
7th October a desperate attempt was made in Madrid itself
to get possession of the young queen’s person, and but for
the loyalty and courage of the guards, would have been
successful. By the tact and energy of Espartero, however,
the insurrection was speedily suppressed, and O’Donnell,
finding his cause hopeless, evacuated the citadel of Pam-
3 p
482
History.
S P A I N.
peluna, and crossed over to France. The ex-queen, who
was still in Paris, was generally supposed to have en¬
couraged or countenanced this rebellion ; and having
refused to publish a declaration that it was without her
authority and against her wish, Espartero issued a decree
suspending payment of her pension. The cortes was
opened by Espartero on the 26th December 1841, but its
proceedings present little of interest; and nothing of impor¬
tance occurred in Spain till the following November, when
a formidable insurrection broke out in Barcelona, occasioned
bv the arrest of some individuals connected with a repub¬
lican newspaper. The national guard sided with the
populace, and the soldiery being called out, a sanguinary
conflict took place, in which the latter were defeated and
compelled to retire into the citadel. Espartero, on hearing
of this set out in person for Barcelona, and on nearing the
place, a deputation of the inhabitants waited upon him,
offering to surrender upon certain conditions, including a
free pardon to all concerned. Espartero, however, de¬
manded an unconditional surrender, and as they would not
ao-ree to this, he proceeded to bombard the town. On the
evening of the second day of the bombardment the town
surrendered. A few of the ringleaders were executed,
and a contribution was levied towards the expense of the
war; but altogether the inhabitants had-no cause to com¬
plain of being harshly treated by the conqueror. The
regent made his public entry into Madrid on his return
from Barcelona on the 1st of January 1843.
That year, however, was to witness the overthrow and
exile of the hitherto successful regent. Though he had
ever pursued a liberal and enlightened policy, and had
effected many useful reforms in the state, yet he had given
great offence to the clergy by his having sanctioned the
appropriation of part of the ecclesiastical revenues to
secular purposes. The fire smouldered for a time, but it
at length found vent in open rebellion. Barcelona, as for-
merlyf took the lead in this movement, and was immediately
followed by Malaga, Grenada, Seville, and other towns.
Espartero, seeing the emergency, prepared to head the
forces in person, and issued an address to the people vindi¬
cating his conduct as regent. His usual energy, however,
seems to have deserted him, and his movements were
vacillating and aimless. A battle was fought on the 22d
of July at Torrejon, between the insurgent leaders Nar¬
vaez and Aspiroz, and Generals Seoane and Zuibano, on
which occasion, after a short engagement, Seoane s army
went over in a body to the enemy. This victory was fol¬
lowed by the surrender of the capital. Espartero was
besieging Seville when the news of this reached him, and
he immediately raised the siege and set out for Cadiz,
pursued by General Concha. At Port St Mary he took
refuge on board an English frigate, and subsequently
arrived at Woolwich, where he was received with eveiy
mark of respect. On arriving in London, where he took
up his residence, the corporation of that city honouied him
with a banquet.
The absence of Espartero, however, did not seive to
restore peace. The jarring factions continued to contend
with unabated fury, and disturbances broke out in vaiious
parts of the country. The city of Barcelona i evoked
against the new government, and was followed by seveial
other towns. These disturbances, however, did not lead
to any important result, Barcelona and the other towns
which had taken up arms being obliged to capitulate. One
of the first acts of the new cortes, which met on the 15th
October, was to pass a decree declaring the young queen
of age, although by law her minority did not terminate till
the 10th of October 1844. She accordingly took the
constitutional oath on the 10th of November.
In the beginning of 1844 an insurrection broke out at
Alicante, and spread so rapidly, that in a short time the whole
province of IMurcia, and a great pait of \ alencia, had de- History,
dared against the government. Vigorous measures, how-
ever, having been adopted, it was at length suppressed.
Alicante surrendered to the government forces in the be¬
ginning of March, and Carthagena about the end of that
month. In the meantime the ex-queen returned to Spain,
and was met by her daughters and the principal ministers
at Aranjuez. They entered Madrid with great pomp on
the 23d of March.
The marriage of the ex-queen to Munoz, who, a short
time previously, had been created Duke of Rianzares,
took place on the 13th of October. In the beginning of
November General Zurbano again took up arms against
the government, and as usual the disaffection spread rapidly.
It was, however, without strength; two of Zurbano’s sons
were taken and shot; and, at length, he himself, a lonely
fugitive, was discovered in the neighbourhood of Legrono,
and suffered a like fate.
Apart from the usual ministerial changes, nothing of
importance connected with Spain occurred in 1845, except
the public renunciation by Don Carlos of his claim on the
Spanish crown in favour of his son, Charles Louis, Prince
of Asturias, who took the title of Comte de Montemolin.
The following year Narvaez, who had been at the head of
more than one ministry, fell into disgrace, and was obliged
to leave the country. A serious insurrection also broke out
in Galicia; but General Concha, having defeated the in¬
surgents in a decisive engagement, it was speedily sup¬
pressed. This year, also, the marriage of the young queen
was a subject which occupied much attention, not only in
Spain, but likewise in other countries ; and it at one time
threatened to bring about a serious misunderstanding be-^
tween France and England. The professed position of
these two countries regarding this question was that of strict
neutrality. France, however, insisted that the choice of
the queen should be restricted to a prince of the house
of Bourbon. The imposition of any such restriction was
strongly opposed by England; but the mattei was at
length set at rest by its becoming known that the queen
was about to marry her cousin, Don Francisco d x\ssis,
eldest son of her uncle, Don Francisco de Paula. It was
generally believed that this marriage was brought about by
French influence, and that the inclinations of the queen
had been little consulted in the matter. It was also
arranged that the queen’s sister should, at the same time,
marry the Due de Montpensier, the youngest son of the
French king. The two marriages were celebrated on the
10th of October, which was the queen’s birthday. Charles
Louis, son of Don Carlos, thinking that the queen’s marriage
afforded a favourable opportunity for appealing to the nation,
issued a proclamation, calling tipon them to support his
cause ; but not the slightest movement resulted from this
manifesto. At the same time he escaped from France,
where he had been living under a kind of surveillance, and
came to England.
The unhappy consequences of the queen’s marriage soon
began to appear. The royal pair became completely
estranged from each other, neither appearing together in
public, nor having the slightest communication in private.
Every effort to bring about a reconciliation between them
for the time failed. Towards the end of 1847, Narvaez,
who had returned to Spain, was placed at the head of the
government, and he at length succeeded in bringing about
a formal reconciliation between the queen and her husband.
Espartero was also recalled, and entered Madrid on the / th
of January 1848. A dispute with England occurred soon
after. Lord Palmerston having recommended Sir H. L.
Bulwer, the British minister at Madrid, to advise the adop¬
tion of a more liberal system of government by the Spanish
ministry, the latter naturally resented this interference ; and
this, together, it is said, with other reasons of a private
SPA
History, nature, led to Sir H. L. Bulwer’s receiving, on 19th May,
a peremptory notice to quit the kingdom within forty-eight
hours. General Mirasol, who was sent by the Spanish^
government to explain the private reasons for the dismissal ot
the English minister, was not received by Lord Palmerston,
and diplomatic relations between the two countries were not
renewed till August 1850. In May 1848, a body of about
600 of the military in Madrid declared against the govern¬
ment, and were joined by a number of the citizens. They
were, however, defeated in an engagement which took place,
and obliged to surrender, when a number of the leaders were
shot. About the end of June a Carlist insurrection broke
out in the northern provinces, headed by Cabrera. It did
not acquire any strength, though it was maintained in a de¬
sultory way during the rest of the year, no important advan¬
tage being gained by either party. On the 12th ot July
1850 the queen was delivered of a son, who, however, only
survived a few minutes ; and the same month Charles Louis,
Comte de Montemolin, was married to Princess Caroline,
sister of the king of Naples. On the 20th December 1851
the queen was delivered of a daughter. On the 2d ot
February 1852 a desperate attempt was made to assassinate
the queen by a fanatic named Martin Merino, a priest ot
the Franciscan order. The queen was on her way from
the royal chapel in the palace to her own apartments, when
the priest, in his robes, knelt before her, as if to present a
petition, and instantly drew a dagger from beneath his dress,
and struck her on the side. The wound, though consider¬
able, was not dangerous, but it caused a good deal of sen¬
sation, and the culprit was summarily tried and executed.
On the 5th January 1854 her Majesty gave birth to a
princess, who only survived three days. This year was
characterised by another of those revolutions which are so
common in Spain, and which led to the expulsion of the
queen-mother, and the restoration of Espartero to power.
In the beginning of the year the ministry then in pow'er
were giving great dissatisfaction to the nation, as being
mere instruments in the hands of the queen-mother; and
generals Concha, O’Donnell, and Gonzales Bravo, as heads
of the opposition or moderate party, demanded their dis¬
missal. The only answer vouchsafed to that request was
an order to the generals to retire to the Canaries or Balearic
Islands. General O’Donnell, however, refused to obey,
and contrived to keep himself concealed about Madrid.
About the middle of February, General Hore, with the
soldiers under him in Saragosa, raised the standard of re¬
volt. General Rivero was sent against him, and, in a
desperate engagement which took place, General Hore was
killed, but his soldiers managed to maintain their position.
Finding, however, that there was little hope of any farther
success, they retreated to the French frontier, and there
dispersed. Though the government was successful in
putting an end to this attempt at revolution, the spirit of
discontent spread to an alarming extent during the next
few months, and an attempt to raise a forced loan speedily
brought matters to a crisis. The corruption and misman¬
agement that prevailed in every department of the govern¬
ment had reduced the finances of the country to the very
lowest ebb ; and the inability of the ministers to raise any
farther sums made them have recourse to the expedient of
a forced loan, under the pretence of collecting the taxes
six months previous to their falling due. The revolt first
broke out in Madrid. On the 28th of June, General
Dulce, inspector-general of cavalry, assembled 2000 horse^
in the Campo de Guardias in the outskirts of the city, as if
for inspection, and then exhorted them to revolt. Ihey
were speedily joined by General O’Donnell with three bat¬
talions of infantry, and the whole took up a position at the
village of Canalejas, 4 miles from Madrid. On the morn¬
ing of the 30th a strong body of troops, under the com¬
mand of General Quesada, attacked the insurgents near the
1 N. 483
village of Vicalvaro, but they were speedily compelled to History,
retreat with great loss. On being reinforced, however, by '
fresh troops, they renewed the attack, and maintained the
struggle till nightfall, when the insurgents drew oft’ their
forces, and the queen’s troops retired into Madrid. The
insurgents lost in killed and wounded about 1000 men, and
the royalists about 1500. O’Donnell’s force, however, was
too weak to enable him to maintain his position in the
vicinity of Madrid, and he accordingly retired by railway to
Aranjuez, breaking up the rails after him to prevent pur¬
suit. A body of 5000 men was sent in pursuit, before
which the insurgents continued to retreat. O’Donnell and
the moderado party, however, soon found that they were not
sufficiently popular to gain their object without assistance,
and hence they made proposals to the progresista party,
which were agreed to. A proclamation was accordingly
issued, declaring their object to be the re-establishment of
the constitution of 1837 with its constituent Cortes, the
maintenance of the throne of Isabella II., the dismissal of
the present ministry and the queen-mother, and the reor¬
ganisation of the national guard. On this all the most im¬
portant towns that had hitherto stood aloof from the insur¬
rection immediately declared in its favour. In Madrid, on
the 17th of July, the people rose in insurrection, attacked
the prefecture, possessed themselves of the arms there, and
immediately proceeded to attack the government and other
buildings.- A junta was formed, and a petition drawn up
and presented to the queen, who promised to give the
matter due consideration. A lull in the outbreak then took
place; but General Cordova, who is said to have pledged
himself not to molest the people that night, ordered two
battalions to open fire upon them in the Plaza Major. The
mob, now infuriated, sacked, pillaged, and set on fire the
hotels of several of the ministers. They also attacked the
palace of the queen-mother, and effected an entrance into
one of the wings, threw out the furniture to feed a bon¬
fire, and then set fire to the palace itself. By this time,
however, some troops had arrived, who, after firing a lew
volleys, succeeded in clearing the square, and in confining
the conflagration to the wing in which it had commenced.
On the 18th, barricades were erected in all the main streets
debouching on the Puerta del Sol, behind which the insur¬
gents kept the troops at bay for eighteen hours, i he
queen sent for Espartero, who was then at Logrono, to
come and form a ministry, which he agreed to do, upon
condition of the banishment of the queen-mother, and the
assembling of the constituent Cortes. I he queen having
agreed to these conditions, Espartero set out for Madrid,
and, in the meantime, General O’Donnell, who had de¬
feated the troops sent out against him, was retracing his
steps to Madrid. They entered the capital together on the
29th of July, escorted by the national guard and thousands
of the people. Peace being thus at length restored, the
Cortes was convoked, and Espartero became head of the
new government. The queen-mother left for Lisbon, and
afterwards proceeded to Paris, where she had apartments
assigned for her in the palace of Malmaison.
Espartero continued at the head of the government till
14th July 1856. His liberal measures were offensive to
several of his colleagues, and, through the intrigues of
O’Donnell, he was led into a ministerial difficulty, and felt
himself called upon to tender his resignation, which was
accepted, and O'Donnell was appointed president in his
stead. One of the first acts of the new government was to
declare the whole of Spain under martial law. The people,
however, would not submit to this without a struggle, and
an insurrection broke out in Madrid, in which the national
guard sided with the populace against the soldiery. After
some fighting, however, it was overcome; and similar out¬
breaks in other towns were also speedily suppressed. The
Cortes passed a vote of no confidence in the O’Donnell
484
SPAIN.
Statistics, ministry; but the next day a royal decree appeared, de-
daring the Cortes to be closed. One of the next steps of
the new government was the abolition of the national guard.
O’Donnell did not, however, continue long in power, for
he had to resign on the 13th of October, and a new
ministry was formed under General Narvaez. On the
28th November 1857 the queen gave birth to a son, who, as
heir to the kingdom, takes the title of Prince of the Asturias.
The recent history of Spain, like the preceding, is marked
by frequent ministerial changes, and a generally unsettled
state of the country ; but presents us with nothing calling
for special notice except the present war with Morocco. It
is impossible at present to enter into any account of this
struggle, which is probably only begun. It was under¬
taken contrary to the remonstrances of England, the alleged
cause of it being piracies committed off the coast of Morocco.
Spain, however, seems desirous of establishing a footing in
that part of Africa; for, on the fall of Tetuan, one of the
conditions of peace proposed by her was, that she should
retain possession of all the conquered portion of Morocco.
Rounda
ries.
Coasts.
List of Kings and Queens of Spain since the Union of
the separate Kingdoms.
1512. Ferdinand V.
1516. Charles I.
1556. Philip II.
1598. Philip HI.
1621. Philip
1665. Charles II.
1700. Philip V.
1724. Louis I.
1724. Philip V., restored.
1746. Ferdinand VI.
1759. Charles III.
1788. Charles IV.
1808. Ferdinand VII.
1808. Joseph Buonaparte.
1814. Ferdinand VII., restored.
1833. Isabella II.
(j. F. S.)
STATISTICS.
The kingdoms of Spain and Portugal together form what
is called the Pyrenean Peninsula, or, briefly, the Peninsula,
the most southerly, and at the same time the most westerly,
portion of Europe. Except on the north-east, where it is
connected with the rest of Europe by an isthmus about
one hundred miles in breadth, this peninsula is wholly sur¬
rounded by water. Spain {Espana), which occupies by
far the greater part of it, has for its boundaries on the
south and south-east the Strait of Gibraltar and Mediter¬
ranean Sea; on the west, partly the long and narrow terri¬
tory of Portugal, partly the Atlantic Ocean ; on the north,
the Bay of Biscay; and on the north-east the Pyrenees, a
chain holding the second rank among the mountains of
Europe, and forming a well-defined line of separation be¬
tween France and Spain. Its extent north and south is
from Tarifa Point, in the Straits, in 35° 57' north latitude,
to Cape Ortegal, in Galicia, 43° 46', making 7° 49’ of lati¬
tude, or about 540 English miles. From east to west the
extreme points are Cape Creus, in Catalonia, 3° 12' of east
longitude, and Cape La Roca, 9° 17' of west longitude, the
distance in this direction being 560 miles. The Peninsula
thus forms almost a square, allowance being made for the
irregularity of its outline ; and the entire extent of Portugal
being excluded, it is reckoned to contain about 193,000
square miles English.1
Without reckoning numerous small inlets, the coast line
of Spain is nearly 1400 miles in length, of which the
Atlantic, with the Bay of Biscay, forms above 600, and
about 770 is washed by the Mediterranean. From the
Bay of Gibraltar to the mouth of the Guadiana on the
south-west, the distance is about 140 miles. On the north¬
west, from the mouth of the Rio Minho to Cape Ortegal is
160 miles; and the north coast, from Cape Ortegal to the
French boundary, extends 300 more. The Bay of Gib¬
raltar, with the exception of the rock itself, is low and sandy. Statistics
Proceeding thence in a westerly direction, the coast rises
moderately towards Algesiras and Cape Trafalgar. Pass¬
ing from the admirable Bay of Cadiz to the mouth of the
Guadalquivir, the land becomes swampy and low. From
Huelva, the harbour of which receives the small rivers
Tinto and Odiel, to Ayamonte, at the mouth of the Gua¬
diana, the shore continues low, and abounds with sandy
islets. The northern coast, extending from the French
boundary towards Cape Ortegal, is, generally speaking,
rocky, a wall of rock forming a line of from 20 to 300 feet
in height along the coast. Further west a few inlets occur,
with a few headlands. Between Capes Ortegal and Finis-
terre to the Minho, the coast, though rocky, is less ele¬
vated, and the inlets entering into, and the headlands
stretching from the land, form, as at Ferrol, Vigo, and
Corunna, several large harbours.
From Gibraltar east to Motril the coast is tolerably
level, and in some places even low; but to the east of this
last it rises in some places to the height of several hun¬
dred feet. This elevated line continues to Cape Gata,
and thence northwards to the town of Mojacar. From this
town to Cape de Palos the line is of less elevation. Along
this coast are found the harbour of Malaga, the open bay
of A lineria, and the excellent harbour of Cartagena. The
coast continues sandy and low, with no harbours between,
from Cape de Palos to the roadstead of Alicante. Thence
to Denia the coast is rocky and more elevated. From
Denia to the mouth of the Ebro the coast is again low and
sandy, ^excepting at Castelion de la Plana, where it becomes
higher. Along this coast many lagoons, called Albuferas,
occur; but no harbours, except the open one of Valencia,
and, south of the Ebro, the Puerto de los Alfaques. Proceed¬
ing towards the French boundary from the Ebro, the coast¬
line alternates between high and low spaces, presenting the
good harbours of Barcelona and Rosas, sufficiently deep
for larger vessels, and that of Reus and others, fit only for
smaller ones.
According to M. de Verneuil, so well known as theGeol°^
friend and associate of Sir Roderick Murchison during his
geological labours in Russia, the central part of Spain is
distinguished by three chains of mountains, which constitute
the skeleton of the country—the Guadarrama, the Montes
de Toledo, and the Sierra Morena. Having emerged
before the secondary period, these ridges formed islands
composed of granite, gneiss, and of Silurian or other palaeo¬
zoic rocks, and around which were accumulated the younger
deposits.
Primary Rocks.—One of the highest of these, the Gua¬
darrama, is principally composed of granite, gneiss, and
other crystalline schists. Towards the E. these disappear
under the Silurian and Devonian formations, whilst to the
W. they proceed to the frontier of Portugal. The primary
rocks occur in two other and very distant parts of Spain.
I he province of Galicia is principally composed of granite,
gneiss, and mica-schist, occasionally surrounding patches
of slate and limestone; these rocks are of great antiquity,
and form a sort of expansion of the palaeozoic chain of Can¬
tabria. The Sierra Nevada, S.E. of Granada, offers an
example of a great mass of crystalline schists. The abun¬
dance of garnets in the mica-schist, the crystalline structure
and magnesian condition of the thick band of limestone
which surrounds the central part, indicate the energy of the
metamorphic action which has here taken place.
Palceozoic Rocks.— I lie Sierra Morena is the tract in
which most of the Silurian fossils have been discovered.
I his range is composed of slates, psammites, quartzites,
009 da Ba bl’ ]37>400 geographical square miles. Minano gives it 15,762 square leagues of 20 to a degree, Minutoli only
ifr.. ’ ^ J Moreau de Jonn^s 18,890. Hassel estimates it at 25,145 square leagues of 25 to a degree. In the Censo of 1857, just
puDUsned, Spain, including the Balearic Isles and the Canaries, is placed at 16,356-00 Uguas quadradat, or about 195 000 Eng. sq. miles.
SPAIN.
tatistics. and sandstones; the strata often placed by violent disloca-
tions in a vertical position. Making a section across the
chain, N. to S., from Almaden to Cordova, the formations
succeed each other in an ascending order. The oldest or
lowest traces of life, trilobites, occur in black shivery slates.
The upper Silurian rocks are poorly represented in the
Sierra Morena; the Devonian rocks more fully. The
carboniferous deposits, situated towards its southern part,
contain great masses of limestone. The two sides of the
Sierra Cantabrica, in Leon and the Asturias, present de¬
posits full of well-preserved Devonian fossils, and offer
points of pilgrimage for all palaeontologists. These Devo¬
nian rocks constitute the axis of the Sierra Cantabrica and
its southern side, and are covered in the Asturias, or on
the N., by the richest coal-field of Spain. In general the
carboniferous strata are vertical; this disadvantage, in ex¬
tracting the coal, is lessened by the mountainous relief of
the country, in some parts of which the beds of coal can
be worked 1200 or 1300 feet above the level of the streams.
The depth of the whole group may be estimated at 10,000
or 12,000 feet.
Secondary Rocks.—The trias may be traced from the
Pyrenees through Catalonia, Aragon, Valencia, and Mur¬
cia, to Andalusia, and is the principal store for salt and
gypsum. It is principally composed of conglomerate, sand¬
stone, limestone, and red clays, or marls of various colours.
When the series is complete, it may be divided into three
or'four groups, but is often reduced to two or three. Fossils
are exceedingly rare, and have been found only in the lime¬
stone ; the species are those of the muschelkalk of Ger¬
many. They have been discovered by M. de Verneuil,
Casiano de Prado, and Collomb, in ten or twelve different
places, from the mouth of the Ebro to the mountains of
Jaen. Some species have been also recently discovered by
Professor Vilanova, at Carlet, near Valencia. The Jurassic
and cretaceous groups extend over most of the north¬
eastern and southern part of Spain, covering vast areas in
the Basque Provinces, in Catalonia, Aragon, Valencia,
Murcia, Malaga, and Ronda. Lying upon the red sandstone,
they constitute most of the high lands and mountains which,
to the east of Madrid, make the water-parting between
the Atlantic and Mediterranean. Surrounding the central
and more ancient parts along the Guadarrama, the chalk
penetrates into the very heart of the country. In the
eastern parts, mountains more than 5000 feet high are
composed of Jurassic or cretaceous rocks. The two most
fossiliferous members of the Jura are the Lias and the
Oxfordian group. The lower lias is wanting in Spain,
and all the fossils hitherto found are those which charac¬
terise the middle and the upper zone. To the Jura, M.
de Verneuil refers the Moncayo, the highest in the Ebro
Mountains, then the high ranges north and south of Teruel,
the latter called Camarena, the Sierra of Albarracin, and
those of the N.W. of the province of Valencia. Very
often concealed in the south of that province, as well as
in the east of Murcia, the Jurassic deposits re-appear, and
reach great altitudes in the Mountains of Cazorla and Se¬
gura. Situated N.N.E. of the Sierra Nevada, these moun¬
tains form a high country, the culminating point of which
bears the name of Sierra Sagra, near Huescar, and is 2400
metres high. The Jurassic beds are broken near Czorlaa,
and form magnificent cliffs. After an interruption where
^ country is occupied by the trias, and where passes
the Ri° de Guadix, the Jura again forms the high mountains
of Huelma, Jaen, Cabra, Lucena, Antequera, and extends
to the celebrated Serrania of Ronda, in the highest parts
o which M. de Verneuil has recently discovered lias and
x oidian fossils. West of thesemountians the Jura dis-
appeais under the tertiary basin of the Guadalquivir, in
w nc i stand the cities of Arcos, Jeres, Medina, Sidonia,
am Veger. It is well known that the isolated rock of Gib-
485
raltar is Jurassic. The chalk accompanies the Jura in the Statistics,
eastern provinces of Catalonia, Aragon, Valencia, and
Murcia, but does not extend so far west in Andalusia,
and has not been found in the Ronda Mountains ; on the
contrary, it occupies a much larger area than the Jura in
the Basque Provinces, as well as in Navarre and Santander.
In these last provinces the series has not received its full
development, being represented only by the various members
which lie above the gault, whereas, in the eastern provinces,
those below the gault, or the neocomian beds, are prevalent,
The high plateau called the Maestrazzo, S. W. of Tortosa,
between that place and Teruel, is entirely cretaceous, and
in greater part neocomian. The highest peak, the Pena Go-
losa, 1800 metres high, composed of orbitolite limestone, is
seen from a great distance. Above the chalk, and having
apparently been submitted to the same disturbances, lie the
nummulitic rocks, the true lower eocene. They form an
uninterrupted band or zone along the south side of the
Pyrenees, from the Mediterranean near Gerona to Pam¬
plona. These nummulitic beds disappear some miles east
of Vittoria, where the whole chain is composed of chalk,
with young tertiary basins. At San Vicente la Barquera
and Columbres, not far from Santander, the same beds are
seen, but occupying a small area. One of the most strik¬
ing features of the nummulitic group is, that it surrounds
the great interior plateau, never penetrating into the heart
of it. It occupies the coast-range south of Valencia,
extends into Murcia to the south part of the great
Cazorla Mountains, and forms all the promontories between
Algesiras and Tarifa. At Malaga, and in many other places,
a great discordance may be seen between the nummulitic
limestone and the miocene or younger tertiary deposits,
the first being highly contorted, and the second slightly
inclined.
The younger tertiary rocks cover vast areas in Spain,
generally horizontal, and extending in vast plains, they
contrast strongly with the secondary and nummulitic, or
older tertiary beds, which are always contorted, and form
undulating or mountainous countries. All the great valleys
of the Ebro, the Douro, the Tagus, the Guadiana, and the
Guadalquivir, have been bottoms of seas, estuaries, or ex¬
tensive lakes. The purely fresh-water deposits cover a
larger area thaft the marine ones, extending over Old and
New Castile, from the Cantabrian chain to the Guadarrama,
and from the Guadarrama to the Sierra Morena, through
the great plains of the Mancha. In some places these
deposits reach the altitude of 4500 feet; thus proving how
great elevation Spain has undergone even in recent times ;
recent in effect, to judge by the fresh-water fossil shells,
identical with those living now, and by the bones of great
mammoths discovered in the Cerro San Isidro, near Madrid.
Most of the marine deposits, and especially those of the basin
of the Guadalquivir, are miocene, and upon them lie here
and there some small pliocene, or newer pliocene (modern)
deposits, formed on the maritime shore, and composed of
pebbles and fragments of Pecten and Ostrea. In some
places there are clays in which some good fossils have been
preserved, as in the neighbourhood of Malaga. It is pro¬
bably in the most recent of these periods that the extinct
volcanoes of the Peninsula broke out. Three foci of erup¬
tion are known, one at the Cape of Gata, the other in the
neighbourhood of Ciudad-Real, and the third near Olot, in
Catalonia.
The geology of Spain is not sufficiently advanced to
attempt a classification of its mountains, considered with
respect to their periods of elevation. The Sierra Morena
is probably the most ancient, for in both its sides the ter¬
tiary strata in contact with the old rocks are horizontal.
Near Cordova, for example, the miocene beds, with the
huge Clypeaster altus, are to be seen in that position; and
on the northern side, at Santa Cruz de Mudela, horizontal
486
SPAIN.
Statistics, bands of fresh-water limestone, loaded with helix, lie upon
W/—' hio-hly inclined, trilobite Silurian schists. More recent
movements have taken place in the Guadarrama, since at
the southern foot of that high range, and on the road from
Madrid to Burgos, the same fresh-water limestone is slightly
elevated. In the Pyrenees, as w^ell as in the mountains
which rise in the most southern part of Spain, the subsoil
has been fractured by violent and recent disturbances.
The tertiary formations of the Ebro, and those of Leon
alon" the Cantabrian chain, are often much elevated. In
Leon they are even vertical near the chain, but soon re¬
sume their horizontal position, to range over the great
plains of Castile.1
Mountains. The country may be considered as composed of a series of
mountain-terraces, which, projecting successively their rug¬
ged edges towards the south, present a flight of gigantic
steps from the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean. The chains
of mountains which terminate and divide the great plains
of the Peninsula are branches of the immense ridge that,
from the most elevated part of Tartary, runs across Asia
and Europe, penetrates into the south of France by Swit¬
zerland, and, entering Spain in the direction of the valleys
of Roncal and Bastan, separates Navarre from Guipuscoa,
Biscay from Alava, the highlands of Burgos from the plains
of Old Castile, and Asturias from the kingdom of Leon ;
then crosses Galicia, and dips into the ocean at Capes Or-
tegal and Finisterre.
The Pyrenees are lateral ramifications of this great trunk,
which run east and west on the eastern side of Spain, and
take a south-west and north-west direction on the confines
of Aragon and Navarre. The accumulated mass of these
mountains presents, towards the Peninsula, the convex side
of a spherical segment, which, like a shield with its boss
to the south, rounds its edges near the Atlantic and the
Mediterranean, and rears the highest part of its curve on
the Spanish territory, between the springs of the rivers
Cinca and Ara. This eminence, called Mont Perdu by
the French, is known, in Aragon, by the appellation of I res
Sorores, alluding to its three peaks, distinctly seen from
Saragossa, of which the highest rises 11,2/0 feet above the
level of the sea. The line of perpetual congelation is there
at the height of 8010 feet.
In the minor branches which strike off *from the Pyre¬
nees in a south direction, without forming a part of the
great secondary chains, which we shall presently describe,
there are some mountains too remarkable to be left unno¬
ticed. Such are the Monsen, on the coast of Catalonia, near
the town of Arenys de Mar, and the well-known Monserrat,
which rises, on the same coast, to the height of 4050 feet
above the sea; such the Sierras of Ribagorza, Larbastro,
Huesca, and Jaca, which take their names from the prin¬
cipal cities in their neighbourhood; such, finally, those
numerous spurs of the great ridge which run into Navarre,
whose various appellations would only tend to confuse the
reader.
Great Ibe- Of the main ridges which run across the Peninsula, that
rian chain. whici-, rjses to the west of the source of the Ebro was called
Idubeda by the Romans, and formed the limits of the an¬
cient Celtiberia. In its course towards the Mediterranean,
the natives, according to a general custom, distinguish the
various portions or great links of the chain by the appella¬
tion of Sierras, adding the name of some town or notable
height in their vicinity. Such are the Sierra de Oca of
Urbion (the Distertice of the middle ages), of Moncayo
{Mom Caunus), of Molina, Albarracin, and Cuenpa. Part
of this chain forms the limits of Aragon and Castile; it
then penetrates into Valentia, Murcia, and Granada, and
ends in the Capes Oropesa (Tenebrium), Martin, Palos,
and Gata. The small town of Alcolea, in the province of Statistic
Soria, stands on this chain, at the height of 4074 feet above
the sea. Its mean elevation, on the road between Molina
and Teruel, in Aragon, is 4328 feet.
The first point where this great ridge splits into the
minor chains, which lose themselves in the Mediterranean,
is to the north of Albarracin, in Aragon. Of these branches
the most remarkable is that which, entering the province of
Valentia, is again subdivided into the smaller ridges which
terminate at Peniscola and Cape Oropesa. The waters
that descend from these heights, to the north, mix finally
with the Ebro, while the Turia and the Mijares are swelled
by those which flow from the southern declivities. On the
branch stretching towards Peniscola, and in the limits of
Aragon, rises the Muela de Ares, a conical mountain de¬
prived of its apex; whose top is an extensive plain covered
with luxuriant pasture, and surrounded by fearful preci¬
pices, at the elevation of 4280 feet above the sea. This
is one of the highest spots in the Peninsula. The Tagus,
the Jucar, and the Gabriel, take their rise among these
mountains, and divide the waters which flow from their
sides between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Nu¬
merous flocks of sheep, both itinerant and stationary, find,
in the valleys formed by this chain, the most abundant sum¬
mer pasture.
From Albarracin, this chain strikes into the territory of
Cuenpa, in a direction nearly north and south. It then
sends oif a branch to the east-south-east, on which the Cbl-
lado de la Plata, or Silver Hill, rises 4378 feet above the
sea. It contains a quicksilver mine, which was formerly
worked. From the neighbourhood of this town the Sierra
de Espadan runs, like an unbroken bulwark, to the sea near
Murviedro, in a direction between south-east and north¬
west. These hills are described as singularly grand and
picturesque.
Near the source of the Tagus, the Iberian ridge sends
off another branch, which, stretching in almost a southern
direction, separates La Mancha from the province of Mur¬
cia, to the west of the town of Albacete, and rises into the
lofty mountains of Alcaras and Segura (the ancient Oro-
speda), dividing the waters between the Guadalquivir and
the Segura, the two main streams which .severally and
finally convey them to the ocean and the Mediterranean.
One of the tw’o great limbs which terminate the Iberian
ridge runs into the sea at Cape Cervera; the other, bend¬
ing to the south, skirts the kingdom of Granada, and dis¬
appears at Cape Gata. To the latter belongs the mountain
called Cabezo de Maria, between Carthagena and Cape
Gata, one league west of the town of Vera, on the coast of
Granada. It rises 6265 feet above the sea, and has its
summit covered with snow during one-half ot the year.
Smaller branches of this chain project between the f uria
and the Gabriel, which loses itself in the Jucar at Cofren-
tes. A ridge runs between the last-mentioned river and
the Alcoy, another stream, which flows into the sea near
Gandia. A minor chain separates the Alcoy and the mouth
of the Segura. The province of Valencia is, in fact, di¬
vided by mountains into most fertile strips, watered by
numerous streams, and enjoying every blessing wdiich na¬
ture grants to the most favoured climates.
The great ridge whose summits divide the waters be- Ridge l
tween the Douro and the Tagus grows out of the Iberian tween
chain, not far from the sources of the Jalon and the^ fa-
juna, to the south of the city of Soria, and the site ot the
ancient Numantia. Where it divides the province ot Gua¬
dalajara from that of Soria, it is called Sierra de Parades,
and Altos de Barahona. On one of the hills north ot Sigii-
enza, rises the Henares, which gives its name to the ancient
l See works of P. Torrubia, Francisco Lujan, Ezquerra del Bayo, Paillette, Casiano de Prado, d’Archiac, Hausmann, Coello, De Bo-
tella, Schulz, Wilkoram, Scharenberg, Kossmaessler, Pratt, Ribeiro, Sharpe, De Verneuil, the Revista Minera, &c.
SPA
idstics. Compluium, now Alcala de Henares, the seat of a univer-
sity. Near the source of the Lozoya, a rivulet which runs
into the Jarama, these mountains are called Somosierra,
till, more to the west, they bear the name of Guadarrama;
an appellation which they preserve throughout the long
course in which they skirt the provinces of Segovia, Avila,
Guadalajara, and Madrid. The Puerto de Navacerrada,
the highest point on the road from Madrid to the summer
palace of San Ildefonso, is 6037 feet above the sea.
The mountains of Guadarrama are a very striking object
when seen from the neighbourhood of Madrid, on the road
to Old Castille. They principally consist of naked, frac¬
tured granite rocks, heaped up together, and adorned only
towards their bases with single evergreen oaks, while the
upper parts are bleak, dreary, and barren, presenting fan¬
tastic prominences, and in many places covered with per¬
petual snow. This chain, in its course towards Portugal,
where it ends in the Rock of Lisbon, rises into some re¬
markable elevations. We shall notice that of PeSalara,
between the sources of the Eresma and the Lozoya, 7764
feet above the sea; the Puerto del Pico, in the province of
Avila; the Pena de Francia, and Sierra de Gata, in the
northern limits of Spanish Estremadura.
a;D of Almost parallel to the mountains of Guadarrama, we
gus and find the ridge which divides the waters between the Tagus
adiana. ancj the Guadiana; but it rises to no great height, and is
altogether of minor importance.
dge of The third great branch of the Iberian ridge is the Sierra
.adiana Morena {Montes Mariani), which divides the waters be-
:dGua- tween the Guadiana and the Guadalquivir. _ It begins in
lquivir‘ the vicinity of Alcaraz, near the eastern limits of the pro¬
vince of La Mancha, issuing from that spur of the Iberian
chain which terminates in Cape Palos, and, trending in a
direction north-east and south-west, with La Mancha and
Spanish Estremadura to the north, and Jaen, Cordova, Se¬
ville, and Algarve in Portugal, to the south, ends in the
ocean at Cape St Vincent. The pass named Puerto del
Rev, where the road from Madrid to Andalusia crosses
these mountains, is 2249 feet above the sea. Near Cor¬
dova, where the bold skirts of the Montes Mariani are
seen, within a short distance to the north, like a screen
raised to protect the rich and extensive plains watered by
the Guadalquivir, the ridge borrows the name of the neigh¬
bouring city. On the southern limits of Estremadura, and
to the north of Seville, it is called Sierra de Gaudal-canal.
The chain now bends to the south-west, forms the north¬
ern boundary of the Portuguese province of Algarve, and,
through the Sierras of Caldeiraon and Monchique, connects
itself with Cape St Vincent.
idge of The brink of the last mountain-plain towards the south
ranada 0f Spain is skirted by the ridge of Granada and Ronda,
id Honda. which, striking off at the extremity of the Iberian chain, is
successively called Sierra de Gador, Sierra Nevada, Ber-
meja, and de Ronda, till it ends in various points of the
coast, but most conspicuously in the Rock of Gibraltar.
Part of the Sierra Nevada rises above the highest Py¬
renees. The Cumbre de Mulhaoen is 11,654 feet above
the sea, the Picacho de Veleta 11,377 feet. Ihe line of
perpetual congelation is found in these mountains at the
height of 9055 feet.
livers. The six great streams which water the plains lying be¬
tween the great mountain-ridges, are the Mifio, the Ebro,
the Douro, the Tagus, the Guadiana, and the Guadal¬
quivir.
hno. The Mino, or Minho {Minim, or Bcenis), rises in the
district of Lugo, from a beautiful spring called Puente Mina,
runs through Galicia in a south-west direction by Lugo and
Orense, and from Melgaza to its mouth in the Atlantic,
forms the boundaries between Spain and Portugal. I his
river, 60 leagues in length, is navigable only to Salvatierra,
two leagues above Tuy.
i n. m
The Ebro rises, near Reinosa, out of a spring so copious statistics,
that it turns a corn-mill a few steps from its source. After
a course of 120 leagues, it flows into the Mediterranean at Ebro.
Alfaques. From the boundaries of Navarre to the sea, the
Ebro makes a progress of 1° 12' 42v towards the south.
The chief towns on this stream are Logrono and Cala-
horra, in the province of Rioja; Tudela, in Navarre; Sa-
j-agossa, in Aragon; and Tortosa, in Catalonia. It is a
misfortune for Spain that this great river presents such
strong obstacles to navigation, both in its course and where
it reaches the sea.
The Douro, or Duero, has its source to the north of the Douro.
city of Osma, in a deep lake, at the summit of that portion
of the neighbouring chain of mountains called Sierra de
Urbion. Its course is at first to the east, towards Hino¬
josa, then towards the south, passing by Garray and Soria,
where it turns to the west, continuing in that direction till
it reaches Miranda. From this town to Moncorvo the
river falls again into a south direction. It lastly takes a
decided course to the ocean, which it reaches near Oporto,
having traversed a distance of 130 leagues. This river is
navigable up to the tower of Moncorvo, a distance of 30
leagues. The navigation, which was formerly obstructed
by rapids, has been expedited through the exertions of the
Portuguese company of the Alto Douro. Among its chief
tributary rivers are the Ebros, the Rejas, the Jaramillo, the
Pisuerga, the Esla, the Cea, and the Agueda. Some of
the smaller streams flowing into the Douro rise at remark¬
able heights. The Adaja, which descends from the north¬
ern slope of the great chain between the Douro and the
Tagus, is, at Avila, 3482 feet above the sea; the Eresma,
when it flows by the castle of Segovia, is 3033 feet above
the same level.
We have mentioned that elevated part of the chain be- Tagus,
tween the Tagus and the Guadiana which takes the name
of Albarracin, and the truncated mountain called Muela de
San Juan. An inconsiderable spring, denominated Pie
Izquierdo, is the source of the majestic Tajo, or Tagus.
In its course through the province of Cuenca it is consider¬
ably augmented by the contributions of several streams.
Before its waters reach Aranjuez, they surmount the rocky
edge of its native mountain, and, dashing upon the plain
beneath, sink into a pool of great depth, called Olla de
Borlaque. The Tagus, now running placidly through the
plains of Zurita and the royal gardens of Aranjuez, at the
elevation of 1700 feet above the sea, directs its course to
Toledo, passes by Talavera, Alcantara, Abrantes, and San-
tarem, losing itself finally, after a course of 170 leagues, in
the sea near Lisbon. To its chief tributary rivers belong
the Oceseca, the Gallo, the Jarama, the Guadarrama, the
Alberche, the Alagon, the Herja, the Guadiela, the Araya,
and the Sever.
The sources of the Guadiana are found north of Alcaraz, Guadiana.
in La Mancha, at the pools of Ruidera. T. he course of the
river is first to the north-west for 8 leagues. It is then
absorbed by the soil, and disappears for 7 leagues. The
first gathering of its waters, after their subterraneous disper¬
sion, takes place near Daimiel. I he spot is called Ojos
(Eyes) del Guadiana. The stream now proceeds to Ciudad
Real, the chief town of the province of La Mancha, to
Merida and Badajos. In the neighbourhood of Badajos it
turns to the south, and forms for some length the bound¬
aries between Spain and Portugal. It enters Portugal at
one part of its course, but at Jeres de Guadiana is again
adopted as the boundary line, and continues such till after
a course of 150 leagues, it enters the Atlantic at Ayamonte.
It is navigable to Mertola in Portugal, about 45 miles from
its mouth. Among its tributary rivers are the Gigiiela,
the Rubial, the Estena, the Burdalo, and the Montiel.
The Guadalquivir occupies the centre of the plain which Guadal-
lies between the Sierra Morena and the chain of Granada, quivir.
488
Statistics.
Lakes.
Springs.
Soil and
climate.
SPAIN.
where it takes its course to the north-east of Jaen. The
chief towns on its banks are Andujar, Cordova, Seville, and
San Lucar (Templum Luciferi). At the ferry near Men-
jivar, on the road from Madrid to Granada, the Guadal¬
quivir is 556 feet above the sea. After running about 100
leagues it empties inself into the Atlantic. This river is
navigable for vessels up to Seville; but its bed being con¬
stantly raised and obstructed by growing shallows, the na¬
vigation is extremely tedious. Among its subsidiary rivers
are the Guadalimar, the Jandula, the Jenil, the Corbones,
and the Guadaira.
To these principal streams we may add the Bidasoa, which
has its sources in Navarre, and flows into the sea at Fuen-
terrabia, forming the boundaries between France and Spain,
and is considered a neutral stream by both countries. The
Bilbao, which is navigable for part of its course for small
vessels; the Orinnon, the Mira, the Suanes, the Ulla, the
Umia, and the Caldelas: these three latter are coast rivers
of Galicia, and form at their mouth small bays and har¬
bours called rias. The Tinto, which runs in the Sierra
Morena, and flows into the bay of Huelva after having re¬
ceived the Puerco: its yellow, copper-coloured waters, in
which no animated being has yet been found, petrify wood,
and destroy every vegetable they touch. The Guadarranque;
the Guadiaro; the Segura, a very fine river 45 leagues
long, which waters the beautiful Huertas of Murcia; the
Jucar, 74 leagues long, but not navigable ; the Guadalaviar;
the Palancia; the Francoli; and the Fluvia.
If we except the series of small lakes from which the
river Guadiana takes its rise, there are in Spain few lakes
that merit particular notice. The most remarkable of these
is the lake of Abufera, in the province of Valencia. This
lake begins near the village of Catarroja, about a league
south of the city of Valencia, and extends nearly four leagues,
as far as Cullera. When it is full, it is about four leagues
in length, and two in breadth; but is so shallow that
small boats can scarcely float in it. To supply the defi¬
ciency of water an engine is employed, by which the
neighbouring waters are drawn into the bed of the lake;
and any superabundant water occasioned by heavy rains is
carried off by means of an artificial opening. This lake
contains a great many fish, and numerous aquatic birds
make it their haunt. There are some extensive swamps
and morasses; as the Gallocanta in Aragon, the pestilen¬
tial Nava in Palencia, and the lagunes of Ruidera, Bena-
vente, Bejar, and San Martin de Castaneda.
Mineral springs are so numerous in Spain, that we find
their number stated at more than 1200; but regular and
comfortable watering and bathing establishments scarcely
exist: an hospital is generally the only sanitary establish¬
ment in a Spanish watering-place. The mineral springs
at Trillo in New Castile, are used for drinking and bathing ;
those of Vierra-Vermeja in Granada, contain iron, vitriol,
and sulphur; and those of Busot in Valencia, sulphur,
iron, and salt. The baths of Archena in Murcia, and Caldas
de Monbuy, were known to the Romans.
Viewing Spain as a whole, a threefold principal differ¬
ence is to be observed. The northern zone, which ex¬
tends to the Ebro, differs entirely in its characters from
the middle zone; and this again is completely different
from the southern zone, which is bounded on the north
by the Sierra Morena and a part of the Ostrandes. The
northern zone, which includes Galicia, the Asturias, the
Basques, Navarre, the northern part of Aragon and Cata¬
lonia, is a widely extended, mountainous, and hilly country,
with a temperate but variable climate. The snow-fields
and glaciers of the Pyrenees on the one side, and on
the other the north and north-west winds, have a marked
influence in lowering the temperature of the atmosphere,
and in increasing the supply of water: the annual rain¬
fall in these districts is about 30 inches. The increased
humidity is favourable to vegetation, which on the whole Statistic
very much resembles that of the south of France; and
the variety of rocks containing lime, clay, and sand, and
also their frequent alternations, operate beneficially on
the soil. Everywhere it invites to cultivation, and the in¬
habitants of this region are active husbandmen. The
middle part of Spain, which comprises Old and New Cas¬
tile, a part of Aragon, Leon, and Estremadura, is not so ,
favourably circumstanced. Generally speaking, it is defi¬
cient in either beauty or variety of aspect. The broad
and lofty table-lands, of a mean elevation of 1900 feet,
present a uniform and monotonous surface, destitute of
trees, scorched by the rays of the sun in summer, and sub¬
ject during the winter to a piercing wind, called ihegallego,
which blows from the north-west. The corn-fields are
wretchedly cultivated, and desert heaths of the rockrose
(cistus) meet the eye. Plantations of olive-trees are rare:
here, in short, every kind of vegetation dwindles for want
of water. In most cases the rivers carry but little water
in comparison with the extent of the land and the number
of considerable mountain-chains. The causes of this great
deficiency are principally the extreme dryness of the atmo-
sphere; the inconsiderable covering of snow on the moun¬
tains, and its short continuance; the absence of forests and
great moors on the heights; and the comparatively incon¬
siderable breadth of the mountain-ranges. The people are
principally employed in pastoral occupations, migrating with
their flocks from place to place according to the seasons.
The mean annual temperature of the central table-land is
60°, the mean summer temp. 76°, and that of winter 43°.
The southern and south-western part of Spain, which com¬
prehends Andalusia, Granada, and Murcia, is very different
from that just described. On the opposite side of the Sierra
Morena the whole land has a more southern aspect, which
announces itself not only by the vegetable, but likewise by
the animal kingdom. The great difference of climate is
produced by the southern situation, the exposure of the ac¬
clivity of the south and south-west to the African winds,
and the strong reflection of the solar rays from the lofty
naked mountain-walls. The mountain-ranges are more
closely aggregated, the valleys more deeply cut; and there
is also a greater difference in the rocks and in their position,
so that extensive table-lands cannot be formed. The south
of Spain thus possesses not only a much higher temperature,
one fit for the olive, the orange, and the palm, but also a
more varied and more favourable soil for cultivation. In
East Valencia and Murcia, in the south of Andalusia, and
the Algarves, in Western Alentejo and South Estremadura,
a sort of perpetual spring prevails, and the rich and varied
vegetation rivals that of the fertile plains of Syria. In
Andalusia frosts are unknown, and the snow, if it ever
falls, melts the moment it touches the soil; so that it is not
surprising that, in the cultivated districts, the Spaniards, so
famous for their maritime expeditions of yore, should have
introduced many vegetables from remote parts of the world,
thus giving a perfectly tropical appearance to the country.
There is, however, a deficiency of moisture; and a hot pes¬
tilential wind called the solano, similar to the sirocco of
Italy, often blows from the south-west for severals days in
succession, withering vegetation, enfeebling the animal
frame, and spreading epidemic diseases.
Passing over such productions of the soil as are only Produc-
interesting to the botanist, we here enumerate those which tions.
come under the cognizance of the husbandman. Spain may
be reckoned one of the most fruitful countries of Europe,
and it presents a great variety of products. Wheat, secale,
barley, hemp, and flax, are cultivated in almost all the
provinces, the most productive being Valencia, Catalonia,
Murcia, and some of the northern ones. Oats are ne¬
glected, barley being given to the cattle instead of that
grain. Oil and soda are the principal products of the
SPAIN. 48-9
Statistics, southern shores of the Mediterranean; the others are su-
niach (rhus), and different esculent plants of a superior quality.
In the same part of the country are fields of saffron, planta¬
tions of rice, which stretch out like so many plains, and the
cotton-shrub thrives as on its native soil. The mulberry-
trees are very luxuriant, and their leaves afford rich nou¬
rishment to the silk-worm, which easily accounts for the
superior quality of the silk. In the south of Spain there is
an immense variety of the most delicious fruits, not only
such as are common in temperate climates, but many which
naturally belong to the tropical regions. The sugar-cane
grows near the cotton-plant, and numerous olives furnish
the oil which forms so important a branch of commerce.
Kali, from which barilla is extracted, is produced in great
abundance in Valencia; the liquorice-plant near Seville
and at the mouth of the Ebro; anise, maize, and different
dye-stuffs in Murcia; and the honey of Cuenga is still as
celebrated as it was in the time of the Romans. Among
the vegetable products, we may briefly mention chestnuts and
a variety of other nuts, the cork-tree, palm, lemon, orange,
banana, date, pomegranate, fig, citron, cherimoyer, laurel,
bay, cypress, almond, and strawberry tree; potato and
other culinary vegetables; forests of oak, pine, and other
trees, chiefly in Catalonia, the Asturias, Galicia, and the
Sierra Morena. Extensive valleys covered with rich pas¬
tures are found in Navarre, and numerous herds are fat¬
tened on them. In the Asturias, the Pyrenees, the Sierra
Morena, and the Sierra Nevada, considerable forests still
exist, chiefly of evergreen oaks, from which naval timber is
obtained. But of all the vegetable productions of Spain,
the vine is the most important, the lands being almost
everywhere favourable to its culture. The excess of the
vintage above the quantity consumed in the country forms
a considerable branch of the export trade, and it is capable
of being greatly extended. The wines of Spain are more
vigorous than those of any other country in Europe; but
with the exception of those of Jeres, Rota, Malaga, Ali¬
cante, Benicarlo, &c., which are intended for exportation,
they are still prepared in a careless and imperfect manner.
In the district of Jerez, the centre of the wines so well known
as sherry, there are 12,000 acres, and between Jera de la
Frontera and Puertade Santa Maria there are about 25,000
acres under cultivation. The richest Malaga wine is the
sweet lagrimas made from the juice which oozes, without
pressure, from the rich grapes hung up in nets or in bunches.
In 1857, however, nearly 2,000,000 acres of land were de¬
voted to the culture of the vine, while the quantity of wine
exported exceeded L.4,000,000 in value.
Zoology. The native zoology includes a great number of species.
In the mountains of Asturias the ibex is not uncommon,
and the Alpine squirrel (Sciurus Alpinus) is only found in
the Pyrenees. In the southern parts, bordering on the
African shore, a few species of warblers have been found,
which are but little known to the rest of Europe, and
the flamingo is sometimes seen in the vicinity of Va¬
lencia. The European bee-eater frequents the vicinity of
Gibraltar in large flocks during the season of migration.
Among the domesticated animals, the horse and sheep
deserve particular notice, as having been long celebrated
throughout Europe. The best horses are generally about
four feet six or eight inches in height; they have all the
fire, docility, grace, and action of the beautiful Arabs of
Barbary, and there can be no doubt of these noble animals
having been introduced by the Moors and crossed with the
native breed. Those of Andalusia, Granada, and Estrema-
dura, are the most distinguished. The Asturian horse is
less elegant, but larger, stronger, and better adapted for
common purposes. But little care has been bestowed in
keeping up the more noble breed, so that fine horses are
not so common in Spain as prior to the French invasions.
Ihe mule and the ass are, in so mountainous a country,
VOL. xx.
particularly usefid; the breeds of the latter are very fine, Statistics,
and are hardly excelled by those of Egypt. Spain is still
celebrated for its Merino race of sheep. The flocks are
constantly travelling during the greater part of the summer,
but are carefully kept in winter. This race, subdivided into
breeds, is extended over the greater part of Spain, but
those of Cavage and Negrate are the best. A third breed,
the Sowan, appears more hardy, and passes the winter in
Estremadura, Andalusia, and New Castile. These three
constitute what is called the Transhumante, or travelling
race, to distinguish them from the Estautes, or those of a
somewhat inferior breed, which do not migrate. The best
fleeces are those which appear almost black on their sur¬
face, caused by the dust adhering to the peculiarly greasy pile;
for it is invariably found that such fleeces are of the purest
white beneath. The amount of wool produced annually has
been estimated at about 40,000,000 lbs. There is a very
large breed of oxen in the country round Salamanca; but
the cattle of Spain have been much neglected, the moun¬
taineers deriving much milk and butter from goats. Fine
cattle, however, are reared in the Asturias and in Andalu¬
sia; and pigs are very common on the Asturian mountains.
In 1857, the total number of cattle, &c., was 20,104,000;
of which 13,795,000 were sheep ; 1,381,000 cattle ;
2,734,000 goats ; 1,018,000 swine ; 492,000 asses; 416,000
mules ; and 268,000 horses. The wild-boar, the wolf, the
bear, the chamois, and the lynx, still find shelter in the
Pyrenees, but are gradually becoming extinct. Cochineal
is raised in the south, chameleons are found in the vicinity
of Cadiz, and monkeys on the rock of Gibraltar and in the
Sierra de Ronda.
Spain has long been celebrated for its richness in mine- Minerals,
rals, and rich silver and lead mines have been recently dis¬
covered in the Sierra Almagrega in Almeira. Lead is
found in considerable quantities; the principal veins, as the
lead-glance veins of Linares, being found in granite. In
1856, upwards of 1,000,000 quintals of lead in bars were
exported. The principal mines are near Tortosa, in Cata¬
lonia ; at Zoma, Benasques, and Plan, in Aragon ; in Estre¬
madura, in Murcia; in Old Castile, in Seville; and in the
district of Linares, in Jaen. Mercury is also found, and at
Almaden there is a rich mine of this valuable mineral, which
is wrought in the clay-slate. Sulphur abounds in Murcia,
and asphalte has been discovered and is now worked by a
company in Soria. Iron ore occurs in very large quanti¬
ties, principally in the northern provinces. In the Pays
Basque, the lias formation is very rich in iron ore ; and that
of Mondragon yields 40 per cent. Veins of copper, anti¬
mony, and sulphur, are occasionally discovered, but not in
such quantities as to be worth working. Coal also exists
in considerable quantities in many provinces; and this
mineral is gaining in importance every year, owing to the
introduction of railways, and other fuel being scarce.
Although Spain possesses all the advantages of climate, Agrioul-
and the soil is generally fertile, the agriculture of the coun- ture.
try is in a state of considerable backwardness. A variety of
causes has been assigned for this, one of which is what
has been appropriately termed the curse of the M^sta.
This is a privilege granted to the proprietors of flocks to
conduct their sheep into different provinces for the sake of
pasturage. In their progress the sheep commit consider¬
able depredations on the crops. Ihe law of entail, which
exists in Spain in its worst form, also hinders improvement
in agriculture. The estates of the dukes of Osuna, Alba,
and Medina Coeli alone include the larger portion of An¬
dalusia. But perhaps the most serious obstacle to im¬
provement is the want of internal communication, and the
indolence of the rural population. The farms are generally
small, and the farmers of a district live together in miserable
villages. There is no rotation of crops, and the wheat, after
a slight ploughing, is sown at the commencement of the rains.
490
SPAIN.
Statistics. The operation of thrashing and cleaning the grain is per-
formed in the open air, and the grain is left in the fields, or
concealed in silos or caves till sold. Public granaries, or
jjositos, are also found in various districts. Implements of
husbandry are of the rudest description; fanners are un¬
known except about the sea-coast, and the spade is still in
• use in some of the mountainous parts of the country. The
most careful cultivation is to be found in the huerlas of
Granada, Murcia, and Valencia, which are well irrigated by
the waters of the Jenil, Segura, and Jucar. Rice is pro¬
duced in Valencia, and a mild red pepper is the chief vege¬
table cultivated in Murcia. These three provinces are con¬
sidered as the gardens of Spain, and annually yield three
and four crops of vegetables, maize, and a mild red pepper.
The sugar-cane also grows well in Granada and in Valen¬
cia. The mulberry thrives in the south ; those of Granada
are black, while those of Murcia and Valencia are white.
In spite of this fertility, however, it is calculated that the
entire lands of Spain do not yield more than from 1^ to 2
per cent, to the proprietors. Some improvements have
recently been introduced, but even now scarcely a third of
the surface of the country is applied to any profitable use.
A far greater extent of land is devoted to pasturage than is
required for the maintenance of the cattle ; and only about
a twelfth of the superficies is occupied by wood. In Biscay,
agriculture has made many improvements; and in spite of
the disadvantages of soil, the population of this district is
more numerous, and the grain cheaper, than in the fertile
plains to the south and east of Seville, which, if properly
cultivated, might supply all Spain. The kingdoms of Old
Castile and Leon may be justly considered the granaries
of Spain. They have their outlets in the north by various
ports from Gijon to St Sebastian, the principal being San¬
tander and Bilbao. The provinces of Burgos and Palencia
are the nearest points from which these ports get any
considerable supply; the distance being from 130 to 140
English miles from each. The elevated and rich campos
which extend from Logrono to Burgos, and thence on each
side of the Arlanza and Pisuerga, and along the Cauvion,
and numerous other streams which water the provinces of
Palencia, Valladolid, and Zamora, yield immense quantities
of wheat; and farther to the west, and on the south side of
the Douro, the provinces of Toro and Salamanca may be
considered as forming a portion of the richest wheat coun¬
try in Spain, or perhaps in the world. A portion of the
great properties of the church having been of late years
confiscated and sold, the division thus created has tended
materially to stimulate improvements in agriculture.
The following table gives the quantities of the different
kinds of grain exported from Spain in each of the years
1851, ’53, ’55, and ’56:—
Wheat (bushels)
Rice (cwt.)
Rye & barley (bushels)
Beans (French)..(cwt.)
Tares  „
Maize (bushel)
Pulse  „
Other kinds (cwt.)
Flour & meal 
138,999
29,877
77,070
194,025
48,618
1,192
563,590
1,202,358
65,057
451,492
40,383
39,957
37,263
91,881
13,971
925,187
5,359,477
96,640
450,973
42,790
9.725
227,392
54,563
8.726
1,831,778
1,480,735
121,348
166,367
10,275
18,791
1,458
52,513
7,128
1,262,329
In 1855 the quantity of wheat imported into the United
Kingdom, from Spain, was 201,716 quarters ; of wheat-
meal, and flour, 847,558 cwt.; but in 1858 the quantities
were only 5197 quarters and 584 cwt. respectively.
Manufac* The manufactures of Spain have participated in the
tures. general progress which has been made of late years, and
have recovered from the depressed state into which they
had previouly fallen. Possessing the finest wool in Europe,
the woollen manufactures of Spain ought to be unsurpassed:
the chief towns engaged in them are Mauresa, Tarragona,
Guadalajara, and those of Valencia and Aragon. The
cotton manufactures have also exhibited an extraordinary
improvement, and are still increasing. Vast quantities of
silk-worms are reared in Granada, and there are extensive
silk-manufactories in Barcelona, Valencia, Almagro in La
Mancha, Seville, Madrid, and other towns; but with re¬
gard to both cotton and silk, though the fabrics made are ex¬
cellent, the colours are not good. Tanning, a branch of trade
for which Spain has always been famous, is actively carried
on in the northern provinces. At Seville, there is a con¬
siderable trade in leather, a species of which, prepared with
gall-nuts, is in much request. Ferrol and Vittoria possess
considerable tanneries : at the former varnished leather is
made; and Cordova gives its name to the kind known as
Corduan. There are large cigar manufactories, employing
many thousand persons at Malaga, Seville, &c. Potteries
are numerous, but the articles produced are generally of
an inferior description. There is a royal porcelain manu¬
factory at Madrid, the produce of which is very superior,
but it costs the government more than it returns. Hat and
paper manufactories have also been established, and have
met with considerable success. The manufacture of arms
forms a part of the trade of Spain, but the quantity made
is by no means great. There are two large factories in
Biscay ; at Abacete and Toledo swords are made ; at Sego¬
via, firearms; and at this latter place, as well as at Seville
and Placencia, there are good foundries. Iron manu¬
factories are very numerous in Biscay, but they are not
conducted on an extensive scale. In almost every vil¬
lage in this province seme kind of iron ware is manufac¬
tured ; horse-shoes, fusils, locks, and bedsteads being the
chief articles, which are sent to the interior. Several other
iron manufactories have been established throughout the
country, the principal being at Pederoza and Martulla in
Andalusia. Iron ore is prohibited from being exported, but
considerable quantities are nevertheless sent to France.
Spain is extremely rich in saltpetre, and the gunpowder,
manufactured in great quantities in Valencia, Granada, La
Mancha, and Navarre, is excellent. A kind of rush, grown
near Almeria, and made into coarse matting and cables,
known in England as “ bass,” is exported in large quanti¬
ties. Manufactures are, however, still much checked in
Spain by the system of monopoly, some of the largest manu¬
factories being in the hands of the government, and conse¬
quently conducted at a loss.
The commerce consists chiefly in the exportation of wines,
cereals, wool,brandy, fruits,silk(rawand manufactured),lead,
iron, mercury, barilla, and other articles, amounting in all,
according to a government return in 1856, to the value of
L.10,636,l7l. Iron, in bars, is exported in considerable
quantities from Bilbao, Cumana, and Vittoria, chiefly to
Bayonne and Bordeaux. Malaga and Alicante wines are
also important branches of commerce; and the coarse wines
of Murviedro are extensively exported. The quantity of
wine exported from Cadiz alone amounted in 1859 to 45,919
butts. The export of dried fruits gives activity to the
ports of Alicante, Malaga, Seville, and Valencia; and the
latter town is famous for its dyes. The imports of Spain
consist of sugar, salt, fish, spices, wood, rice, butter,
cheese, hides, wool, cotton, and almost every manufactured
article. The transport of salt from Cadiz and Torrevieja,
for the fisheries of Galicia, is an important branch of com¬
merce, and, along with the fisheries themselves, employs a
great number of hands, producing the best sailors, and
giving to the towns and villages on the coast an activity
which is seldom seen in the interior. It has been difficult
to arrive at any correct estimate of the value of the ex¬
ports and imports of Spain, from the want of official docu¬
ments ; and even when these were obtained, little reliance
Statistics.
Commerce
SPAIN.
491
Statistics.
'ommer-
ial
larine.
ianking,
&c.
Canals.
Hoads.
could be placed on them ; but, In 1851, the value of im¬
ports into Spain was estimated at L.7,406,596 ; the
exports being L.5,333,079 — balance against Spain of
L.2,073,517. In 1858, the value of imports into Spain was
estimated at L.12,345,698, the exports being L.13,905,472
—balance /avowr of Spain, L.1,559,774. According to
Areas, the commercial marine amounted, in 1858, to 5173
vessels, with a tonnage of 349,762, and with nearly 80,000
men and boys. The number of lighthouses in actual opera¬
tion was 61 ; while 76 more were proposed, or under con¬
struction. The amount of customs duty, collected on articles
imported into Spain and the Balearic Islands, in 1856, was
L.1,867,116. It remains but to add, that, owing to the
heavy duties still levied on the productions of foreign coun¬
tries, smuggling, to a considerable extent, continues, more
especially across the Pyrenees, through Portugal, and from
Gibraltar. In 1858, the value of the imports into the
United Kingdom from Spain was L.2,238,288 ; from Cuba
and Porto Rico, L.3,798,778; and value of the exports
from the United Kingdom to Spain was L.2,071,219; to
Cuba, L.1,797,219.
Banking, in its English sense, is almost unknown in Spain,
the principal merchants doing the business of bankers.
Several banks have, however, been recently established in
the large towns, and the circular notes used by travellers
are pretty generally negotiable: there is an extensive cir¬
culation of inland bills of exchange, but in ordinary trans¬
actions there are no substitutes for cash. The difficulty of
transmitting specie is the cause of the bills of exchange
being much used, merchants preferring rather to pay a
premium than run the risk of losing the specie altogether.
The rate of exchange of course varies with the supply of
bills in the market, and also with the character of the
houses offering the paper. Most of the bills are at short
dates, generally within one month. Some are as short as
two days, and these are allowed eight days’ grace, unless
the word fixed is written on them. Interest generally varies
from 3 to 4£ per cent, on discounting bills; but this mode
of negotiation is not much practised. Interest on mercan¬
tile transactions is understood to be fixed at 6 per cent.,
and 3 per cent, on mortgages ; but the law is easily evaded,
there being no penalty inflicted on those who charge more
than the legal interest. The money in ordinary use con¬
sists of cuartos, reales, pesetas, duros, and gold pieces of
80 to 100 reals in value, the real being equal to about 2jd.
English. 1 real = 8£ cuartos ; 1 peseta=4 reals — 1 franc ;
1 duro = 20 reals. French five-franc pieces and gold Napo¬
leons circulate everywhere in Spain.
In internal communication, Spain lies under great disad¬
vantages, both from the mountainous nature of the country
and the obstructed navigation of the rivers. In the hands of
an enterprising people, such difficulties, may, however, soon
be overcome. Irrigation, in a country so exposed to droughts
as Spain, is of the highest importance, and has been car¬
ried to a great extent in Valencia, Catalonia, and Granada.
Several small irrigating canals, remnants of Moorish indus¬
try, exist in some of the provinces. The only navigable
canals of importance are—the canal of Aragon, projected
in 1528 by Charles V., intended to connect Navarre with
the Mediterranean, finished to Saragossa, and navigable for
vessels drawing 10 feet of water. The canal of Castile, to
unite Santander with the Douro, is only partly finished.
That of Segovia connects that town with the river of the
same name; and the canal of San Carlo is constructed to
give a port to Tortosa.
With the exception of the royal roads (Caminos reales),
the highways are badly kept. There are eight of these
royal roads, all radiating from Madrid; that to Barcelona
by Valencia; to La Junquera by Saragossa; to France by
way of Vittoria and Irun—kept in excellent condition
considering the mountainous nature of the country through
which it runs; to Oviedo; to Corunna; to Portugal by Statistics,
way of Badajoz; to Cadiz by Seville, over the Sierra
Morena, well kept; and that to Granada. The two roads
from Madrid to Burgos, one through Valladolid, and the
other through Aranda de Duero, are kept in good con¬
dition. In Biscay and Navarre the roads are under the
superintendence of the provincial administration, and are
more numerous, better constructed, and more carefully
managed than any others in the country. The following
table from the Anuario de Espana, by Areas, Madrid, 1859,
gives the length and direction of the principal roads:—
Leagues.
1. Madrid, by Burgos, Vittoria, San Sebastian, Irun, to j
the frontier of France. J
2. Madrid, by Valladolid, Benavente, Astorga to Cor- 1 ^Q2
unna on the Atlantic J
3. Madrid, by Talavera de la Reina, Trujillo Merida and 1 gg
Badajoz, to the frontier of Portugal J
4. Madrid, by Cordova, Seville & Cadiz, to the Atlantic... 113
5. Madrid, by Bailen, Jaen, Granada, to Malaga, in the l gg
Mediterranean J
6. Madrid, by Albacete and Almansa, to Valencia, on the 1 g^
Mediterranean /
7. Madrid, by Guadalajara, Saragossa, Barcelona, and j
La Junquera (Gerona) el Potus, to the frontier of > 131
France )
Railways are being constructed in various directions; Railways,
those finished and working in December 1859 are the un¬
der-mentioned :—Barcelona to Arenys, 23 English miles;
to Granollers, 18f; to Martorell, 15; to Tarrasa, 22|;
Cadiz to Jerez, 22; Madrid to Alicante, 282; to Guada¬
lajara, 35|-; Reinosa to Alar del Rey, 32; Santander to
Los Corales, 12; Tarragona to Reuss, 8; Valencia to
Magente, 50^—total, 52rEng. miles. There are numerous
others, the works of which are far advanced, which are con¬
structed principally with the aid of French companies, but
the greater part of the capital is found in Spain, the go¬
vernment and the provincial authorities subscribing largely
to them. Those under construction, and conceded, as
given in the Anuario Estadistico de Espana, published by
the Royal Statistical Commission in 1859, are:—
Under construction.—2. Madrid to Valadolid; Burgos to Irun;
Valladolid to Burgos; San Isidro de Duenas to Alar ; Alar to San¬
tander ; Tudela to Bilbao; Madrid to Saragossa; Saragossa to
Alsasua ; Saragossa to Barcelona ; Montblanch to Reus; Granollers
to Santa Coloma; Arenys de Mar to Santa Coloma; Almansa to
Jativa ; Seville to Jerez ; and Puerto-Real to Cadiz.
Conceded.—3. Alcazar to Cuidad-Real; Ciudad-Real to Merida ;
Merida to Badajoz ; Merida to Seville; Merida to Alconetar , Al¬
bacete to Cartagena ; Valencia to Tarragona ; Manzanares to Cor¬
dova, Malaga, and Granada; Ventas de Alcolea to Espiel and
Belmez ; Palencia to Corunna ; and Medina to Zamora.
The electric telegraph has been established during seve-Telegraph
ral years; the total length of the communications being
3800 miles in 1858, with 120 stations.
The Roman Catholic religion exclusively prevails m Religion.
Spain, where in all ages it has assumed a most bigoted and
intolerant form. The church establishment includes ten
archbishops and fifty-nine bishops, with a large multitude
of canons, prebendaries, and other ecclesiastics, under
various denominations. In 1768, the number of priests
amounted to nearly 210,000; in 1787, it was reduced to
about 180,000, while in 1858, it was estimated at 43,000.
In 1837, the convents, then about 1940 in number, and
containing upwards of 30,000 monks and lay brothers, were,
with a few exceptions, suppressed, and their revenues, sub¬
ject to a provision for existing members, confiscated to the
state ; the nunneries, however, amount to about 600, and
contain about 12,000 nuns. The total value of church
property is estimated at L.25,000,000; and the annual cost
to the state under the head of clergy and religious worship
is about L. 1,550,000.
National education in Spain has recently greatly im-
49.2
SPAIN.
Statistics, proved, insomuch that while, at the commencement of this
century, only one in 340 was at school, it is calculated that
in 1859 the means of elementary instruction was afforded to
one to 16. In 1827, the total number of students attend-
Education. ing the public univei’sities and seminaries was 13,677. In
1833, the number was about 18,000; and the total num¬
ber attending universities, seminaries, and all other schools,
was nearly 500,000; while in 1859, the number receiving
instruction has again very greatly increased. In 1845, Spain
was divided into ten university districts, viz., Barcelona,
Granada, Madrid, Oviedo, Salamanca, Santiago, Saragossa,
Seville, Valencia, and Valladolid. With regard to educa¬
tion for special purposes, there is a school of medicine and
a college of surgeons at Madrid ; an academy for engineers
at Zamora; an artillery academy at Segovia; a marine
school, and observatory of San Fernando, at Isla de Leon ;
an academy of fine arts at Madrid, and several learned
societies, the chief of which, the Academy of Sciences
at Madrid, was established by royal decree in 1847. There
are several large public libraries, the utility of which is,
however, much impaired by the prohibition of many valu¬
able works. Mr Ford, in his Murray’s Handbook remarks,
that the Index Expurgatorius, published at Madrid, would
furnish an excellent guide to all about to form a really
good library, as the priest carefully excluded every book
likely to furnish useful and entertaining knowledge.
The revenue of Spain has, during the last few years,
undergone an extraordinary increase. In 1851 it was
L. 12,493,023, being exceeded by the expenditure; in
1858 it amounted to L.20,833,634.
The following table gives the revenue and expenditure
Revenue, for each of the intervening years, from the budgets :—
1852. 1853. 1854.
Revenue L.11,379,264 L.12,334,975 L.14,711,479
Expenditure...L.ll,001,536 L.12,097,087 L.15,892,025
1855. 1856. 1857.
Revenue L.15,690,809 L.14,718,962 L.18,126,314
Expenditure...L.15,673,898 L.14,709,257 L.18,033,001
Of the gross revenue of Spain, a large amount is absorbed
by the cost of collection, but owing to the recent national
prosperity, the assessment on property and income-tax is
collected with less difficulty than formerly, and yields a
much greater sum. In 1855 the government passed the
law of des amortizacion, under which all the land held in
mortmain by the state, the church, and other corporations,
is being sold, and about 80 per cent, of the proceeds in¬
vested in works of public utility. The operation of this
law was suspended for a time, on account of the opposition
it met with from the ctergy ; it is, however, again in force,
though, with regard to the lands belonging to the church,
by a recent agreement with the Papal government, the
clergy are to be allowed stock, paying 3 per cent, to the value
of diat already sold, and no farther sales are to be effected
without the consent of the bishops. The effect of this law
will be, to bring a great extent of waste land into cultiva¬
tion, and to render a large sum available for the prosecu¬
tion of public works, the greater part being laid out on rail¬
ways. The Spanish government not only anticipate that
they will be able to defray the expenses of the present war
with Morocco without having recourse to a loan, but that
the only necessary alteration in the present taxation will be
an addition to the tax on real property of 12 percent, of its
present amount, and of 10 per cent, to the octroi duties
and other taxes, with a deduction of from 8 to 10 per cent,
from the salaries of government employes.
With regard to the national debt, it is difficult to arrive
at a correct estimate ; according to recent official state¬
ments, it amounts to L. 186,000,000, of which the foreign
portion exceeds L.55,000,000, the greater part being due
to this country. During the civilwar, the revenue of Spain
became so exhausted that the interest was unpaid from Statistic
1840 to 1851 ; and when payment was resumed in 1851, it ■v-*
was not at the full rate, but at that of 1 per cent., though Debt
on an increasing scale, so that at the end of eighteen years
the regular 3 per cent, would be paid. For the unpaid
interest, amounting to L.1,000,000, the creditors were of¬
fered stock to the amount of one-half its nominal value.
The government of Spain is vested in the Crown and
the Cortes. The Cortes is composed of two co-legislative
bodies, the senate and the congress of deputies; the senate
is appointed by the king, and is equal in number to three-
fifths of that of the deputies. The deputies are elected,
for three years, by the provinces, which also propose theGovern-
senators, in a number proportional to their population. Theraent-
crown and each of the co-legislative bodies have the right
of originating laws : those which relate to taxes and public
credit are presented first to the deputies, and, if altered in
the senate, receive the royal sanction in the form definitely
decided on by the deputies. The business of the govern¬
ment is conducted by ministers of the interior, justice, foreign
affairs, war, marine, and finance, the appointment and dis¬
missal of whom rests with the crown without restriction.
Justice is administered by a supreme court {primera
instancia), and audiencias, or courts of secondary resort.
The whole number of these secondary courts is fifteen,
each having its seat at a principal town, and exercising
jurisdiction over two or more provinces. Judges of the
first resort are to be found in all the more important dis¬
tricts. Prosecutors, if unsuccessful, have to pay all ex-justicet
penses, and are forced to lodge a sum of money with the
alcalde before any steps can be taken. In 1844 the num¬
ber of persons tried for various crimes was 38,620; being
in the proportion, to the population, of l to 314; the worst
district being that of Pamplona, where it was 1 to 192;
the best those of Barcelona and Oviedo, where it was re¬
spectively 1 to 825 and 1 to 898. Of the total number of
those tried, 31,684 were condemned to various punish¬
ments, 227 to death, and 6936 were acquitted. In 1858
the number of cases tried was 40,975. The principal
crimes are those of robbery and murder, but these do
not prevail now to the extent that they once did. The
regular robbers have almost disappeared from the high-roads
in consequence of the formation of the guardias civiles, a
corps corresponding to the French gendarmerie, stationed
in the principal routes as escorts and patrols.
The army of Spain, once the most formidable and best
organized in Europe, is still, after various vicissitudes,
respectable, and is represented as the most effective part
of her establishment, the pay being regular, the officers
efficient, and the equipments quite equal t^ the require¬
ments of modern warfare. In 1828 the army consisted of
65,000 men; in 1838 of 230,000 ; in 1848 of 147,000; Army,
in 1858 of 120,000; while the total number of men, in¬
cluding 80,000 reserves {provinciales), is at present about
250,000. The navy, though still but the shadow of its former
greatness, has recovered from the state into which it had
iallen, when, in 1823, the only ship of the line, on being
sent out to South America, surrendered to the Peruvians.
It now consists of 2 ships of the line, together carrying 170
guns; 10 frigates, with 391 guns; 4 corvettes, 63 guns;
12 brigs, 132 guns; 4 ureas, 12 guns; 13 schooners, 28uavy.
guns ; 21 steamers, 169 guns ; 17 steam gunboats, 33 guns;
and 11 steam transports—making a total of 94 vessels,
carrying 998 guns and upwards of 18,000 men; beside
which there are now building—1 ship of the line, 5 fri¬
gates, 3 corvettes, and several other smaller vessels. The
cost of the army in 1858 was L.3,424,000, and that of the
navy L.1,026,700.
I he poor in Spain are numerous, and begging is consi¬
dered as no disgrace in some of the provinces. Even stu¬
dents have been known to go on begging excursions during
SPAIN.
493"
Poor.
Statistics, the vacation, labour being in their estimation a greater dis-
grace than asking alms. There are numerous hospitals in
the large towns, chiefly under the management of the
clergy. The funds for maintaining them are principally
derived from legacies of lands and rents, partly bequeathed
by private individuals, and partly by the clergy. In the
northern provinces the hospitals are supported chiefly by
public subscriptions and collections in the churches, the
legacies being unimportant. The convents and monaste¬
ries supported many paupers; the Franciscan, Dominican,
and Capuchin orders, although beggars themselves, keep¬
ing open table for a certain number of poor. A contri¬
bution is annually made from the public funds, being a
portion of the revenue collected by the vicar-general of
\!(\q cruzado. Notwithstanding these institutions, however,
the number of beggars is still very great. Only in some of
the towns is begging prohibited, and in these the vagrants
are employed much in the same way as in our own work-
houses.
The population of Spain is composed of four distinct
races:—ls<, the Spaniards, who form the great majority;
2</, the Basques (about 500,000), speaking a distinct lan¬
guage, and inhabiting some of the northern provinces ; 3c?,
Population
and race.
the Morescoes (about 50,000), descendants of the Moors, Statistics,
mostly found in the south-eastern districts ; and, lastly, the
Gitanos, or gipsies (about 50,000), who speak a dialect
called Ilommany, and are spread all over the Peninsula.
The population of Spain presents fluctuations which can
only be accounted for by the fact of the internal wars
which have so frequently convulsed her, or on the supposi¬
tion that the returns which have been published are incor¬
rect. It has been gradually increasing for the last few
centuries, and latterly in a more rapid progression.' It
appears that in 1700 the population was estimated at
8,000,000, while at present it is more than double that
amount.
So early as the fourteenth century a census of Aragon,
and in the fifteenth, one of Castile, was taken. Although
not entitled to be considered perfect, the following enu¬
merations may be accepted as approximations:—In 1769,
9,160,000; in 1787, 10,268,000; in 1797, 10,541,000;
in 1833, 12,287,000; in 1846, 12,163,000; in 1850,
10,942,000.
The following table gives, from official returns, the for¬
mer and present divisions of the country, the area in square
miles, and the population up to the latest census :—
Old Divisions.
New Castile..*
Old Castile,
Leon 
Asturias  
Galicia 
Estremadura j
Andalusia.... *
Aragon j
Murcia j
Valencia.
Catalonia.
Navarre 
Basque Pro¬
vinces 
Modern Divisions.
Madrid 
Toledo 
Guadalajara 
Cuen9a 
Ciudad-Real 
Burgos 
Logrono 
Santander 
Soria 
Segovia ,....
Avila   
Palencia 
Valladolid 
Leon 
Zamora  
Salamanca 
Oviedo 
Corunna  
Lugo 
Orense  
Pontevedra 
Badajos 
Caceres 
Seville 
Cadiz 
Huelva ..  
Cordova 
Jaen 
Granada   
Almeira   
Malaga 
Saragossa 
Huesca 
Teruel 
Murcia 
Albacete 
Valencia  
Alicante 
Castellon de la Plana.
Barcelona 
Tarragona  
Lerida 
Gerona 
Navarre 
Biscay  
Guipuzcoa 
Alava 
Balearic Islands 
Canary Islands 
Total of Spain in Europe.
Area in
English
Sq. Miles.
2,896
5.620
5,287
7,990
7,713
5,064
1,773
2,121
3,348
3.061
3,125
2,786
2,984
7,176
3,467
4,888
4,216
3,220
3,484
2,588
1,628
7,724
7,018
4.620
2,879
3,937
5,068
4,892
4,354
3,370
3,052
6,584
6,252
3,152
5,184
6,504
3,672
2.868
3,049
2,816
2,488
4,919
2,413
4,069
1,064
891
1,292
1,850
2,980
193,244
Population
in 1834.
Population
in 1849.
363,381
282.197
159,044 |
234,582
277.788
224,407
147,718
166,730
115,619
134,854
137,903
148.491
184,647
267,438
159,425
210,314
434,635
435,670
357.272
319,038
360,002
306,092
241,328
367,303
324,703
133,470
314,459
266,919
370,974
234.789
338,442
304,823
214,874
214,988
283,450
190,326
388,759
368,961
199,220
442.273
233,477
151,322
214,150
221,728
111,436
104.491
67,523
229.197
199,950
12,597,719
405,737
330,000
199,746
252,723
302.594
234,022
185,519
190,000
140,000
155,000
132,936
180,000
210,000
288,833
180,000
240,000
510,000
511,492
419,437
380,000
420,000
336,136
264,988
420,000
358,446
153,462
348,956
307,410
427,250
292,334
438,000
350,000
247,105
250,000
400,000
195,531
500,000
363,219
247,741
533,695
290,000
197,445
262.594
280,000
150,000
141,752
81,397
253,000
257,719
Population
in 1857.
475,785
328.755
199,088
229,959
244,328
333,356
173,812
214,441
147,468
146.839
164,039
185,970
244,023
348.756
249,162
263,516
524,529
551,989
424,186
371,818
428,886
404,981
302,134
463,486
390,192
174,391
351,536
345,879
444,629
315,664
451,406
384,176
257.839
238,628
380.969
201,118
606,608
378,958
260,919
713,734
320,593
306,994
310.970
297,422
160,579
156,493
93,398
262,893
234,046
14,216,219 15,464,340
Chief Towns.
Madrid 
Toledo 
Guadalajara  
Cuenya 
Ciudad-Real 
Burgos 
Logrono 
Santander 
Soria 
Segovia  
Avila   
Palencia  
Valladolid 
Leon 
Zamora 
Salamanca 
Oviedo 
Corunna 
Lugo 
Orense  
Pontevedra 
Badajos 
Caceres  
Seville 
Cadiz 
Huelva 
Cordova  
Jaen 
Granada 
Almeira  
Malaga 
Saragossa 
Huesca 
Teruel  
Murcia -
Albacete 
Valencia 
Alicante 
Castellon de la Plana...
Barcelona 
Tarragona 
Lerida  
Gerona  
Pamplona    
Bilbao 
Tolosa 
Vittoria 
Palma 
Santa Cruz 
Total.
Population
in 1849.
206,714
13,580
5,170
6,037
10.235
15,924
6,848
16,222
5,400
6,625
4,121
11,470
30,000
7,074
8,877
13,786
9,384
19,415
7,269
4,840
4,141
11.715
12,051
100,498
53,920
7,416
41,976
4,000
61,610
17,800
68,577
30,000
9,200
7,165
55,000
13,143
95,288
19,021
16,952
121,815
13,014
12.236
8,172
15.715
10,234
7,000
10,266
40,892
8,070
1,285,878
Population
in 1857.
281,170
15,797
6,533
7,284
8,951
24,327
10,466
24.702
5,191
10,339
6,419
12,811
41,913
9,603
12,881
15,203
14,156
27,354
8,246
6,872
6,623
22,195
14,795
112,139
63,513
8,423
36,501
19,738
63,113
23,018
92,611
58,978
9,874
8,830
26,888
11,860
106,435
20,342
19,297
178,625
18,023
19,581
13,959
22.702
17,649
8,000
15,569
42,910
10,834
1,623,243
494 SPA
Spalato. The language generally spoken, Castilian, is composed of
many elements, but principally based on Latin, with a great
Language, number of Arabic and Gothic phrases and words: it is
manly, sententious, and imposing; full, however, of oriental¬
isms which mean little, and should not be translated
Character, literally. The character of the Spaniards is grave, adven¬
turous, romantic, honourable, and generous, but they display
a great hatred of labour, and refuse to work unless posi¬
tively necessitated ; yet, if roused by proper incitement to
activity and industry, they show great vigour and exertion,
and may achieve independence and reputation. The sol¬
diers are courageous, and, if well commanded, will brave
any danger. They are not a naturally melancholy people,
Amuse- as the spirit with which they throw themselves into the
ments. national amusements will sufficiently prove. Their dances,
especially those of the lower classes, have a national cha¬
racter, and are accompanied by the castanet, in the use
of which they show remarkable skill and dexterity. Their
music principally consists in the singing of ballads, with the
guitar as accompaniment. The bull-fight is still the great
national amusement, and is carried on in precisely the same
manner as formerly: horsemen or picadors,assisted by others
on foot, attack the bull with spears, the coup de grace being
given by the matador, a footman, who plunges a sword into
,its spine between the head and shoulders. The Spanish
theatre has very much declined, and the performances are
generally very insipid. The pleasures of society are chiefly
sought at evening parties, where only slight refreshments
are presented; and indeed, both in eating and drinking,
the Spaniards are remarkably temperate, perhaps more so
Archfteor from an habitual necessity than from virtue. In architecture
tur®' Spain is particularly rich, the chief element being Moorish,
with a mixture of Norman and Gothic. The most remark¬
able architectural monuments are—the Escurial, built in
the Roman or Vitruvian style, in the sixteenth century;
the Alhambra, built by the Moors in the thirteenth cen¬
tury; the Cathedral of Seville, and many other fine edifices.
Spain, in comparison with Italy, has produced few great
painters; but Murillo, Velasquez, Zurbaran, Luis de Var¬
gas, and others, have achieved for their country a high place
in the literature of the fine arts. There is at Madrid an
Academy for Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture; and
there are extensive collections of pictures at Madrid,
Seville, and Valencia. During the French invasion, how-
SPALATO, or Spalatro, a seaport of the Austrian
empire, capital of a circle in Dalmatia, about 100 miles
S.E. of Zara. It stands on a small peninsula, on the north
shore of the strait that separates the islands of Zirona,
Solta, and Brazza from the mainland. The site of the
modern town is that chosen by Diocletian as the place of
his retirement after abdicating the purple. The village of
Salona, about 6 miles to the north, was then a large and
prosperous city, the capital of Dalmatia, and the birthplace
of Diocletian himself. On the shore of a small bay rose
the magnificent palace of the emperor. In form it was
quadrangular, covering nearly ten acres ; and within its
spacious precincts stood temples and theatres, halls and
porticoes; the whole being enclosed by walls flanked with
sixteen imposing towers. When the Goths in the sixth
century, and the Avars in the seventh, laid waste Salona,
its inhabitants fled before them to the adjacent islands;
a&id returning after the storm had passed, they found that
the solid walls of the palace had alone withstood the fury
of the barbarians. Within these, accordingly, they esta¬
blished themselves ; and founded a new town, whose name,
from Palatium, was corrupted into Spalato. In the middle
ages the town gradually increased in size and prosperity,
and spread beyond the limits of the ancient palace walls.
Under the Venetians, it was at one time fortified; but,
SPA
ever, a great number of the finest specimens were car- Spaldin
ried off. v-*
The literature of Spain, in the days of her greatness, Literatu
was on a level with that of any other country in Europe;
but it has since sunk to a low condition. The ballad is
what the early Spanish writers most excelled in; and
this is characterized by romantic fervour, frequently of an
oriental character. The language is peculiarly fitted to ex¬
press the dignified and the pathetic, but its solemn dignity
frequently seduces the writer into bombast. No nation
has such a store of ballads as the Spanish ; but they are,
particularly the early ones, little more than mere relations
of chivalrous deeds. The wars with the Moors form the
subject of an endless number of these ballads, which the
chivalrous nature of the people of Spain during the middle
ages brought to a state of excellence unequalled in any
country in Europe. The song was the natural growth of the
warlike period of Spain, and served to commemorate warlike
exploits; but they were of a very simple character until
the period of the conquest of Naples, when they assumed
a more lyrical form. The national drama has always been
peculiar, consisting chiefly of religious comedies founded
on the lives of saints. There are, however, some noble
comedies of an historical nature. The perfection of the
intrigue is what the Spanish writers chiefly value ; but their
plots are constructed without any regard to the unities.
The drama acquired its greatest celebrity from Lope de
Vega and Calderon. In romance, Spain has accomplished
much. The perfection of Spanish prose is to be found in
the works of the inimitable Cervantes. After his time,
and when the Bourbons ascended the throne, literature de¬
clined with the state, and may be said to have remained ever
since in a similar state of inactivity. Spain possesses at the
present day few writers known beyond their own country.
Jovellanos on political economy, Campany in philology,
Llorente in history, Moralez in mathematics, and Coello
and Madoz in geography, have done much to rouse a spirit
of reflection. Juan Valdez is called the Anacreon of Spain.
Besides the authorities already mentioned, see— Author
ties.
Alcedo ; Antillon ; Arguelles ; Bory de St Vincent; Bowles; Breton;
Carr; Castellanos; Coello; Cortez y Lopez; D'Anville; English Cyclo¬
paedia; Gazetteers of Blackie andFullarton; Lahorde ; Madoz; Make-
Brun ; Mannert ; Minano; Miraplores; Moreau de Jonnes; Napier;
Navarette ; Fortulano ; Townsend ; Tofino ; Urcullu, <Lx. (N. S.)
having been subsequently found indefensible, the walls and
gates have been allowed to fall into decay. The market¬
place of the modern town was one of the halls of Diocle¬
tian’s palace; the temple of Jupiter has been turned into
a cathedral; and that of iEsculapius is now the baptistery of
St John. The streets of the town are narrow and crooked,
and the houses for the most part old-fashioned. East of
Spalato stands, on a rock, the fort of Clessa, which com¬
mands the broad fertile valley leading into the interior of
the country. It is strongly fortified, and commands a wide
and beautiful prospect. The harbour of Spalato is large,
convenient, and safe. A considerable trade is carried on,
both by land and sea, in corn, oil, wine, fruits, cattle,
horses, &c. The people are partly employed in fishing,
and partly in the manufacture of silk, leather, woollen cloth,
and other articles. Pop. 9000.
SPALDING, a market-town of England, Lincolnshire, in
a fenny country on the left bank of the Welland, 34 miles
S.E. of Lincoln, and 122 N. of London. It has four
principal streets, and most of the houses are well built. In
the centre of a large market-place stands a brick town-hall.
The parish church is old, and has a fine tower and spire.
Spalding contains also several places of worship for Dis¬
senters, a theatre, alms-houses, and a grammar-school, of
which the great Bentley was at one time head-master.
.
SPA
i iding, The river has been made navigable for small vessels up to
j^bann' the town ; and an active trade is carried on in corn, tim-
I ber, coal, wool, flax, and hemp. Spalding is connected
Spalding, London by the Great Northern Railway, on which it
filliam. a station. p0p. of the parish, 8829.
SPALDING, Johann Joachim, one of the best pulpit
orators of Germany, was born on the first of November
1714, at Triebsees, in Swedish Pomerania. After having
studied with success at Rostock and Griefswalde, he rose
through various posts until, in 1757, he was appointed first
preacher at Barth. He likewise began to publish his
various theological works about this period, which were
received with high approbation by the German public.
His fame both as an author and as an orator had become
so great, that he was invited to be provost and preacher
at the Nicolaikirche in Berlin, and he was subsequently
chosen a member of the chief consistory. The sermons
of Spalding were characterised by profound thought, ani¬
mated feeling, luminous arrangement, and eloquent and
forcible language. Although written at a comparatively
early period in the history of the German language, they
contain few words that a modern reader would wish to blot.
The “ Religionsedict” subsequently issued by the mystics
put a check upon the free thought and free expression of
Germany, and as it came recommended by royal mandate,
Spalding had to resign his various offices. He went into
retirement, and died on the 2d of March 1804, at the
great age of 90 years. The principal of Spalding’s works
are.— JJeber die Bestimmung des Menschen, 1748;
Gedanken uber den Werth der Gefiihle in dem Christen-
thum, 1761 ; TJeber die Nutzbarkeit des Predigtamts,
1772 ; Religion, eine Angelegenheit des Menschen, 1797 ;
and his Selbstbiographie, 1804. His son, Georg Ludwig
Spalding, edited the latter volume with notes. Born at
Barth in 1762, the younger Spalding pursued his studies
at Gottingen and Halle. After returning from a tour
through Germany, Switzerland, France, England, and Hol¬
land, he I’eturned to Berlin, and was appointed professor in
1787. He subsequently became engrossed in an edition of
Quintilian which he had engaged to complete, and he re¬
fused numerous situations of more emolument and of greater
influence, solely on account of this elegant old author.
After spending nineteen years on it, during which time
he only published 3 volumes, he died in 1811, and left his
darling task to be completed by other hands.
Spalding, William, an esteemed writer on logic, rhe¬
toric, and other branches of literature, was born in 1809.
He was the son of an advocate in Aberdeen, in which city
he spent his youth, and received a very complete classical
and philosophical education at the grammar school and in
Marischal College, where he took the degree of A.M. He
attended the divinity hall for two years, not with a view to
entering the church, but to widen the range of his acquire¬
ments, and prolong his opportunities for study. He at¬
tained to great proficiency in the learned languages, and
loved the study, which he held to be an excellent discipline
for exercising the powers of the youthful mind, and a good
foundation for the highest species of mental culture at a
later period. In this, and in all the other divisions of the
curriculum of arts, he was a bright example of unwearied
diligence, and of the success which attends it. Well aware
at the same time of the vast utility of those modern tongues,
which along with our own are the great repositories of scien¬
tific and philosophic thought, he acquired a thorough know¬
ledge of French, Italian, and German, was able to converse
in either of these languages, and made himself familiar with
the classic authors, both in poetry and prose, of all the
three. In the end of 1830 he came to Edinburgh, and
went into the office of Carnegie and Shepherd, writers to
the signet, with whom he remained till he was called to
the bar in the summer of 1833. In that year he published a
SPA 495
Letter on Shahspeare's authorship of the Two Noble Kins- Spalding.
men, a drama commonly ascribed to John Fletcher. 1 he in^
timate knowledge of the old dramatists displayed in this bro¬
chure, and the critical acumen with which the great poet’s
share in the play (for it wras a joint performance) was traced
out, and separated from the heavier work of his coadjutor,
Fletcher, attracted the notice of Jeffrey, and was followed
by an invitation to Mr Spalding (of which he afterwards
availed himself) to become a contributor to the Edinburgh
Review. But his thoughts had often been occupied with
the project of a tour on the continent, which he resolved to
carry into effect before settling down to the business of the
bar. He commenced his journey in the summer of 1833,
passed a short time in Paris, thence proceeded by Geneva
and the Pass of the Great St Bernard to Turin, Milan,
Genoa, Florence, and Rome. After a minute exploration
of the ancient capital, he went on to Naples, crossed the
Apennines to Ancona, visited Bologna, Mantua, Venice;
then crossed the eastern Alps by Inspruck, spent some time
in Leipsic and Berlin, and returned home by Hamburg,
after an absence of fifteen months.
The fruits of his sojourn beyond the Alps were given
to the public in 1841, in 3 vols., under the title of Italy
and the Italian Islands, from the Earliest Ages to the
Present Time. It is such a book as only a man of
rare acquirements could have written ; nor is it perhaps
too much to say, that, in proportion to its scale, it is the
most complete account of all that is interesting in the
annals and the ancient and modern condition of any one
country that has appeared in recent times. To judge
of its merit, we must keep in view the comprehensiveness
of its plan. It embraces history, antiquities, topography,
literature, art, laws, religion, politics, morals, biographical
sketches of illustrious men, &c.; and each of these topics
has a triple treatment—first for the ancient epoch, next
for the middle ages, and, thirdly, for modern times. The
amount of erudition, the wide range of reading, the know¬
ledge of art required to carry out such a plan, is not
easily estimated. And no subject is handled superficially ;
no statements or opinions are taken on trust; and his re¬
marks on subjects the most diverse—on scenery, architec¬
ture, painting, national character, manners, literary works,
—all bear the impress of an original and richly-stored mind.
Indeed, the only fault of the book arises from the com¬
pression forced upon him by the wide variety and super¬
abundance of good matter it contains, a compression which
sometimes deprives his best ideas of their due relief. 1 he
book went through five editions in a few years. Of his
contributions to the Edinburgh Review we have not a very
accurate record. The first of which we can speak with cer¬
tainty was an article on Darley’s edition of Beaumont and
Fletcher’s works, which appeared in the number for April
1841. It is a masterly sketch of the history of the English
drama from Marlowe to Fletcher, and bespeaks an extent
of reading in these old authors, and an appreciation of their
spirit and their distinctive merits, which could only have been
gained by a minute and patient study of their works indivi¬
dually. Perhaps his partiality for the Greek dramatists led
him to this as a kindred subject; and no doubt he was also
attracted by the rich mine of poetical thought these works af¬
ford and the copious light they throw on the manners of the
period. It must be remembered, that about the end of the
15th century the drama absorbed the activity of the first
minds in England, and its history was to no small extent
the history of English literature. “ It was the favourite
vehicle,” as he observes, “ of public sentiment, and every
other walk of the poetic art was deserted in favour of it. All
men wrote plays who could write at all, and many wrote
indifferent plays who might have attained eminent success
in other departments of poetry.” In 1845 he contri¬
buted to the same journal an elaborate review of the two
496
SPA
SPA
Spalding, valuable editions of Shakspeare’s works published by Mr
Charles Knight and Mr Payne Collier. It is a very able
disquisition on the many difficult questions that have been
mooted respecting the text of the plays; the varieties in
the different editions, and the sources of those varieties;
how far they were alterations made by the poet himself,
how far suppressions or interpolations introduced by others ;
how far the blunders of careless transcribers, or the worse
blunders supposed to be committed by piratical reporters,
who took down the plays from the mouths of the actors in
Shakspeare’s own theatre. These and many other points
are discussed with a sagacity and a range of information
which inspire full confidence in the conclusions come to.
Such investigations are not idle exercises of ingenuity.
The poet’s reputation is national property; and it is satis¬
factory to know that we have the plays almost exactly as
he left them; that the corruptions due to would-be im¬
provers of the text are neither numerous nor important;
that “ for almost everything that is grossly faulty, no less
than for all in them that is superlatively excellent, the poet
himself must stand solely accountable;”-—further, that he
was not the hasty and careless writer some have supposed;
that “ several of his dramas were subjected by himself to a
process of alteration, which is not adequately described un¬
less we call it re-writing; and that several others, though
not changed so materially, received from his hand verbal
corrections so numerous, so careful, and so characteristic, as
to be even a more unequivocal proof than re-writing would
have been, of modest, thoughtful, patient industry.” We
know only of two other articles from his pen in the Edin¬
burgh Review ; on Glassford’s Translations from the Italian
Lyric Poets, and on Sir E. Bulwer Lytton’s poem of King
Arthur. They are less elaborate than his reviews of the
dramatists, but spirited and graceful.
To Rlachioood's Magazine he contributed, in November
1835, a picturesque and amusing narrative of his journey
across the Apennines, entitled Eight Days in the Abruzzi.
In Tatis Magazine he was the author of a review of
Burke's Correspondence; Maitland on the Dark Ages;
Thiers’ History of France under Napoleon; La Motte
Fouque's Theodolf; Life of Aretino ; Michelet’s Priests,
Women, and Families; two tales from the German of
Tschokke, and probably some others. In 1853 he pub¬
lished The History of English Literature, a concise out¬
line of the origin and growth of the English language,
which has had a very extensive sale. Mr Spalding sup¬
plied above fifty biographical notices to the supplement
of the Penny Cyclopcedia, including the names of Armi-
nius, Gauden, Greene, Galt, Gillies, Mitford, &c., and a
number to this Encyclopcedia, including Addison, Bacon,
Demosthenes, Sir Walter Scott, &c. He likewise wrote
the articles Logic and Rhetoric for this work. In
the composition of the former, Mr Spalding adopted
hints from the German authorities, from the excellent
treatise of Mr Mill and from Sir William Hamilton ; but
the work as a whole is highly original, and far in advance
of any manual hitherto published in this country. Its
merit was acknowledged in complimentary letters from
high authorities in England and Germany. The article
Rhetoric is in substance a theory of literature, and contains
much that is new both in form and matter. The first part
is psychological, and deals with the faculties exercised in
the action of mind on mind. The second consists of an
analysis of the processes which constitute the art of elo¬
quence. Both treatises are profound, and severely scien¬
tific in form. Mr Spalding seemed eminently fitted for
the labours of the bar by his careful study of the law, his
singular acuteness and readiness, and great powers of ap¬
plication. But his success did not correspond to his
expectations, and perhaps his proud and fastidious spirit
saw something in the means by which unpatronised men
like himself often rise into extensive practice to which he
was averse. Probably from some such motives, when
Mr Moir resigned the chair of rhetoric in the Universitv
of Edinburgh in 1838, he became a candidate for it and
was successful. He resigned it in 1845, when he was ap¬
pointed professor of logic in the University of St Andrews,
and in this situation he remained till his death on the 16th
November 1859. His natural abilities, which were of a
high order, were improved by an excellent education in
his youth, and by unwearied study in after life. His
apprehension was quick, his memory tenacious, and in the
pursuits to which he gave his mind no amount of labour
deterred him. Hence the wide range and the solidity of
his acquisitions. What he knew he knew accurately, and
could avail himself of readily. His style is distinguished
by clearness, precision, and purity ; it is rarely ornate,
never ambitious or florid. As a teacher he devoted himself
to his duties with an amount of zeal and industry rarely
exemplified, sparing neither himself nor his pupils; or as
one of them expressed it, “ No Scotch professor ever did
so much work for his students, or obtained so much work
from them.” With the quick feeling of honour which
belongs to a gentleman, he united a deep sense of religion;
and in all the private relations of life, as a husband, a
father, and a friend, he was an exemplary man. He fell a
victim to disease of the heart in his fifty-first year, and
with all his faculties in full vigour, leaving a widow and
four children. (c.M.)
SPALLANZANI, Lazaro, a celebrated naturalist, was
born at Scandiano, in the duchy of Modena, on the 12th
January 1729. He began his studies in his native country,
and at the age of fifteen went to Reggio de Modena, where
he was instructed in rhetoric and philosophy by the Jesuits,
who contended with the Dominicans in order to secure his
attachment. His thirst for knowledge determined him to
go to Bologna, where his relative Laura Bassi, a woman
highly celebrated for her genius, eloquence, and skill in
natural philosophy and mathematics, was one of the most
distinguished professors of Italy. Under this enlightened
guide, he was taught to prefer the study of nature to that
of her commentators, judging of the real value of the com¬
mentary by its resemblance to the original. He availed
himself of the wisdom of that lady’s counsels, the happy
effects of which he very soon experienced. Spallanzani’s
taste for philosophy was not exclusive, for he carefully
studied his own language, became a proficient in the Latin
tongue, and attached himself above every other to the
Greek and French. By the advice of a father whom he
ardently loved, he applied himself to jurisprudence; but
being urged by Antonio Vallisnieri to renounce his voca¬
tion, by procuring the consent of his father, he gave him-
seli up to the study of mathematics with more zeal than
ever, at the same time devoting himself to the study of
languages, both living and dead.
It was not long before he was known all over Italy, and,
what is seldom the case, his own country first made that
estimate of his talents which they justly merited. In the
year 1745, he was chosen professor of logic, metaphysics,
and Greek, in the University of Reggio, where he taught
during ten years, devoting every moment of his leisure to
the study and contemplation of the works of nature. The
attention of Haller and Bonnet was fixed by his observa¬
tions on the animalculae of infusions, the latter assisting him
in his laudable career, and ever after distinguishing him as
one of the learned interpreters of nature. He was invited
to the University of Modena in 1760 ; and some years after
he declined to accept of the advantageous offers made to
him by the Academy of St Petersburg, as well as similar
ones from Coimbra, Parma, and Cesene. He preferred
his native spot, and therefore continued at Modena till the
year 1768, and saw raised up by his care a generation of
Spallan-
zani.
SPALLANZANI.
497
■Spallan¬
zani.
men constituting at that time the glory of Italy, among
whom we find Venturi, Belloni, Luchesini, and Angelo
' Mazzo. In 1765, while he resided at Modena, he pub¬
lished his Saggio di Osservazioni Microscopiche concer-
nenti il Sistema di Needham e di Buffon; in which he
establishes by a number of the most ingenious and solid
experiments, the animality of microscopic animalculce.
This work was sent by the author to Bonnet, who drew
from it a prediction respecting the future celebrity of Spal¬
lanzani, which he lived to see accomplished. This circum¬
stance gave birth to the most intimate friendship, which
lasted till the close of life, and constituted their chief hap¬
piness. During the same year he published a truly origi¬
nal work, entitled De Lapidibus ab Aqua resilieidibus ; in
which he proves, by the most satisfactory experiments, and
in opposition to the commonly received opinion, that what
are called ducks and drakes, are not produced by the elas¬
ticity of the water, but by the effect naturally resulting
from the change of direction experienced by the stone in
its movement, after it has struck the water, and has been
carried over the hollow of the cup formed by the con¬
cussion.
When the University of Padua was re-established upon
a larger scale, the Count de Firmian was directed by the
Empress Maria Theresa to invite Spallanzani to be pro¬
fessor of Natural History, although the chair was solicited
by many celebrated characters. His reputation justified
this preference, and immense crowds of students thronged
to his lectures. He possessed much ingenuity, and his
knowledge was of vast extent: his method was simple, but
rigorous in its nature, and what he knew he connected
with principles firmly established.
In the year 1776 he published, in two volumes quarto,
his work entitled, Opuscoli di Fisica Animate e Vegetabile,
containing the explanation of part of the microscopic ob¬
servations which urere previously given to the world. It
must be admitted, that the art of accurate observation is
one of the most difficult, and it cannot be denied that it is
at the same time the most necessary, and requires a rare
combination of talents. These were possessed by Spallan¬
zani in a remarkable degree, as is fully evinced by the
researches which his admirable writings have recorded.
The polite manner in which he conducted his dispute with
Needham respecting the phenomena of generation, secured
for him a high degree of applause. On this occasion, he
treated of the influence of cold upon animals, and proved
that the torpidity of some during winter does not depend
on the impression which the blood may receive from it,
since a frog deprived of blood becomes torpid when re¬
duced to the same cold state, by being immersed in ice,
and swims, as formerly, when restored to a proper degree of
warmth. Spallanzani travelled through Switzerland and
the Orisons, in the year 1779, after which he went to Ge-
neva/ spending a month with his friends, by whom his con¬
versation was not less admired than his masterly writings.
In the year 1780, he published, in two volumes quarto, his
Dissertazioni di Fisica Animale e Vegetabile, in which
he unfolded the secrets of the interpretation of two very
intricate phenomena concerning the economy of animals
and vegetables. To this study he was led from some ex¬
periments made by him upon digestion ; and he repeated
the experiments of Reaumur on gallinacious birds, remark¬
ing, that the trituration, which, in this case, is favourable to
digestion, could not be a very powerful means. He per¬
ceived that the gizzard of those birds, by which the stones
of fruit are pulverized, did not digest the powder thus formed;
it being necessary that it should undergo a new operation
in the stomach, previous to its becoming chyle, for the pro¬
duction of the blood and other humours. This subject may
be regarded as one of the most difficult in physiology, be¬
cause the observer is always under the necessity of finding
VOL. XX.
his way in the midst of darkness: the animal must be
managed with care, that the derangement of the operations
may be avoided; and when the experiments are completed
with great labour it is requisite that the consequences be
well distinguished. In this work Spallanzani analyses facts
with scrupulosity, in order to ascertain their causes with cer¬
tainty ; comparing nature with his experiments, in order to
form a correct judgment respecting them; laying hold of
everything essential to them in his observations, and measur¬
ing their solidity by the increase or diminution of supposed
causes. John Hunter appears to have been greatly hurt
by this work; and in the year 1785 he was induced to
publish Some Observations upon Digestion, in which he
throws out some bitter sarcasms against the Italian natu¬
ralist. Spallanzani took ample revenge by publishing this
work in the Italian language, and addressing to Caldani, in
1788, Una Letter a Apologetica in Risposta alle Osser¬
vazioni del Signor Giovanni Hunter. Here he exposed
with great moderation, but at the same time with logic
which nothing could resist, the mistakes and errors of the
British physiologist.
Ihe generation of animals and plants is discussed in the
second volume of his Dissertazioni ; where, by experiments
as satisfactory as surprising, he proves the pre-existence of
germs to fecundation, showing also the existence of tadpoles
in the females of five different species of frogs, in salaman¬
ders and toads, before their fecundation. He likewise re¬
counts the success of some artificial fecundations upon the
tadpoles of those five species, and even upon a quadruped.
In the year 1781, he took the advantage of the academi¬
cal vacation for the purpose of making a journey, in order
to add to the cabinet of Pavia. In the month of July he
set out for Marseilles, where he began a new history of the
sea, which presented him with many new and curious facts
on numerous genera of the natives of the ocean. He went
also to Finale, Genoa, Massa, and Carrara, to make obser¬
vations on the quarries of marble, held by statuaries in such
estimation. He then returned to Spezzia, and brought from
thence to Pavia a vast number of fishes, which he deposited
is the cabinet of that city, wholly collected by himself.
With the same view and success he visited the coasts of
Istria in 1782, and the Apennine mountains the subsequent
year, taking notice of the dreadful hurricanes and the as¬
tonishing vapours by which that year became so noted in
meteorology. The Emperor Joseph, on examining this
cabinet, presented Spallanzani with a gold medal. In 1785,
he was offered the chair of natural history by the University
of Padua, vacant by the death of Antonio Vallisnieri; but
in order to prevent his acceptance of it, his salary was
doubled by the Archduke ; and he went to Constantinople
with Zuliani, who had been appointed ambassador from
the Venetian Republic. He set out on the 21st of August,
and on the 11th of October reached the Turkish metro¬
polis, where he remained during eleven months. His
attention was fixed by the physical and moral pheno¬
mena of this country, which were new even to Spallan¬
zani. He wandered along the borders of the two seas,
and ascended the mountains in the vicinity ; he paid a visit
to the island of Chalki, discovering to the Turks a copper-
mine, the existence of which they had never once conjec¬
tured. In the island of Principi, not far from Constanti¬
nople, he discovered an iron-mine, of which the Turks were
equally ignorant.
A voyage by sea was undoubtedly the safest, but the dan¬
gers to which he would be exposed by land were regarded
as nothing when contrasted with the idea of being benefi¬
cial to science and to man. Having reached Bucharest,
Mauroceni, the friend of science, received Spallanzani with
marks of distinction, presented him with many rarities which
the country produced, and supplied him with horses for tra¬
velling, with an escort of thirty troopers, to the confines of
3 R
Spallan¬
zani.
498 SPA
'^allan- his own dominions. The philosopher passed by Herman-
zani. stadt in Transylvania, and on the 7th ol Decembei 1786
reached Vienna, where he remained dining five days, and
had two long conferences with the emperor. He was much
esteemed by the nobility of that city, and respectfully
visited by many literary characters. When he arrived at
Pavia, the students advanced from the city-gates to meet
him, and testified their joy at his return by repeated accla¬
mations. He was almost instantly drawn to the auditory,
and compelled to ascend the chair from which he had been
accustomed to deliver his fascinating lectures ; but in the
midst of these demonstrations of joy and shouts of applause,
he requested them to indulge him with that repose in his
own house which was now so absolutely necessary. His
students this year exceeded 500.
The reputation of Spallanzani was sufficiently brilliant to
excite envy and detraction. His discoveries were too ori¬
ginal and solid to be successfully disputed; but some of those
who could not rival his successful ingenuity began to call
in question his integrity in the management of the museum
at Pavia. A judicial investigation completely established
the purity of his character ; and it must be mentioned, to
his honour, that he had the courage to forget this event.
His enemies in general confessed their mistake, renounced
their unprovoked animosity, and still hoped to regain a
friendship of which they had proved themselves so unworthy.
In 1792 he published at Pavia, in 6 vols. 8vo, his Viaggi
alle due Sicilie, ed al alcune parti delV Appennino. Here
we meet with what may be denominated a new volcanology.
We are instructed how to measure the intensity of volcanic
fires, and almost to touch the particular gas wdiich tears
those torrents of stone in fusion from the bowels of the
earth, and raises them to the top of Mount Etna. This de¬
lightful work is closed by some important inquiries into the
nature of swallows, the mildness of their dispositions, the
rapidity of their flight; discussing the celebrated problem
respecting their remaining torpid during the winter season :
proving that artificial cold, much more intense than what is
ever naturally experienced in our climates, does not reduce
these birds to the torpid state.
Things apparently impossible were discovered by Spal¬
lanzani. In the year 1795 he made one of this description,
which he gave to the world in his Lettere sopra il Sospetto
di uii nuovo Senso nei Pippisirelli. In that work we are
informed that bats, deprived of sight, act with the same
precision in every instance as those which have their eyes;
that they shun in the same manner the most trivial obsta¬
cles, and also know where to fix themselves when their
flight is terminated. Several philosophers confirmed these
astonishing experiments, from which a suspicion arose, that
these animals must have a new sense, as it appeared to
Spallanzani that the other known senses could not compen¬
sate for the want of sight; but he was afterwards inclined
to think, in consequence of Professor Jurin’s experiments
on the organ of hearing in bats, that in this particular in¬
stance the sense of hearing might possibly supply the want
of sight.
He published many other works, which we cannot here
enumerate. (See JBiographie Universelle, tom. xliii., p. 246,
where a catalogue of Spallanzani’s works may be found.)
He had nearly finished an account of his voyage to Con¬
stantinople, and had collected many valuable materials for
a history pf the sea, when his life and labours were brought
to a termination. He was seized with a retention of urine,
on the 30th of February 1799, and next morning was so
far deprived of the use of his faculties that he only enjoyed
a sound mind during very short intervals. Tourdes and
Scarpa did everything to save him which could be pro¬
duced by the joint exertions of genius, experience, and
friendship, but in vain. He died on the twelfth of March of
the same year, after having completed the seventieth year of
SPA
his age. His works have been translated into a great va- Spandau
riety of languages, and he was enrolled as a member of many ||
foreign academies. Sparta.
SPANDAU, a town of the Prussian monarchy, in the
province of Brandenburg, at the confluence of the Spree
and the Havel, in the government and 12 miles north of
Potsdam. It is strongly fortified, and has a citadel, a prison,
and a manufactory of arms. The principal building of the
town is the church of St Nicholas, a fine edifice of the 16th
century, containing many interesting monuments. Ship¬
building is carried on here ; and there are also manufactories
of woollen and linen cloth, leather, and earthenware. The
trade and navigation of the place are considerable. Spandau
was at one time the residence of the electors of Branden¬
burg. It was taken by the Swedes in 1631, and by the
French in 1831. Pop. 9778.
SPANHEIM, Ezechiel, a very learned writer, was born
at Geneva on the 7th of December 1629. His father,
Frederic Spanheim, a distinguished theologian, was succes¬
sively professor of divinity at Geneva and Leyden. The
son accompanied him to the latter university, and there dis¬
tinguished himself by his proficiency in solid learning. His
early reputation procured him the professorship of eloquence
at Geneva. He took possession of this chair in 1651; but
he only retained it for a few months, the elector palatine
Charles Louis having appointed him tutor to his only son.
This task he discharged to the entire satisfaction of the
elector, by whom he was also employed in divers negotia¬
tions at foreign courts. In 1677 he entered into the service
of the Elector of Brandenburg, who in 1680 sent him as
envoy extraordinary to the court of France, and soon after
made him a minister of state. After the peace of Ryswick,
he was again sent on an embassy to France, where he con¬
tinued from the year 1697 to 1702. The Elector of Bran¬
denburg having during that interval assumed the title of
King of Prussia, conferred on him the title and dignity of a
baron. In 1702 he left France, and was sent as ambassa¬
dor to England, which he had previously visited on more
than one occasion. He died in London on the 7th of No¬
vember 1710, at the age of eighty-one. It is surprising,
that in discharging the duties of a public minister with so
much exactness, and amidst so many different journeys, he
could find sufficient time to write the various books which he
published. It may be said of him, that he acquitted himself
in his negotiations like a person w'ho had nothing else in
his thoughts; and that he wrote like a man who had spent
his whole time in his study. His works display a very
profound and variegated erudition. The most elaborate of
them is entitled, Dissertationes de Prcestantia et Usu ]Su-
mismatum antiquorum, first printed at Rome in quarto in
the year 1664. The best edition, extending to two volumes
folio, was printed at London in 1706-17. Another valuable
work is his Orbis Romanus, of which the best edition is
that of London, 1704, 4to. He translated the Caesars of
Julian into French, and illustrated them with annotations.
He likewise contributed notes on Aristophanes, Callimachus,
and some other Greek writers, of whom he did not himself
publish editions.
SPANISH TOWN. See Jamaica.
SPAR. See Mineralogical Science.
SPARTA. The early history of this, as of most ancient
nations, is entirely mythical; and we cannot trace by any
trustworthy historical information the gradual rise and pro¬
gress of the state, or of its remarkable and celebrated insti¬
tutions. All that we can do is to make a broad distinction
between the legendary and the historical; and while re¬
taining the former for what it is worth, to begin the real
history of the nation at a much later period. The Dorian
conquest of the Peloponnese affords such a line of separation:
all before it may be considered as simply mythical; while
this event itself, and those which are recorded as having
SPARTA. 499
Sparta, followed it, may probably have in their general features
some basis of historical fact.
, . je_ Lacedaemon, a son of Jupiter and Taygeta, with his wife
ends. Sparta, daughter of Eurotas, are represented as founding
and giving their names to the kingdom and city. The
country was then ruled in succession by twelve of their de¬
scendants, until the line became extinct. Of these monarchs
the most famous in the legends were Hyacinthus, who hav¬
ing been accidentally killed by Apollo, was changed into
the flower that bears his name; Castor and Pollux, who
were raised to heaven, and became special patrons of the
city; their sister Helen and her husband Menelaus, whose
story forms the theme of the early epic songs. On the
failure of the original dynasty, Orestes the son of Agamem¬
non was raised to the throne ; and in the reign of his son
and successor, Tisamenes, is said to have occurred the in¬
vasion of the country by the Heraclidae or descendants of
Hercules, who are represented in the legends as having re¬
turned to claim their ancient inheritance, with the aid of
the Dorians, Aetolians, and Locrians. These vanquished
the Spartan monarch, and divided among them the richest
parts of the peninsula. The country of Laconia, of which
Sparta was the capital, fell to the share of Aristodemus, one
of the three leaders of the conquerors; but, as he died before
the conquest was complete, his twin-sons, Eurysthenes and
Procles, were appointed joint kings, and from them the
double line of Spartan sovereigns is said to have been de¬
scended, there being always on the throne at the same time
an Eurysthenid and a Proclid king. That there is some
truth in the accounts of this migration of the Dorians into
the Peloponnese is generally admitted, though it has doubt¬
less been considerably amplified and embellished by popu¬
lar tradition. It forms one of the great movements of
population which took place in Greece shortly after the time
of the Trojan war, and beyond which no historical researches
can be pushed with any degree of certainty. We may,
therefore, fix this as the boundary between the legendary
and the historical, though it must not be therefore assumed
that everything subsequent to that event is equally well
ascertained. For a long time afterwards, until we come
within the range of contemporary historians, we are in a
sort of middle region, where only the general truth of the
narrative can be depended upon.
listory. Before the Dorian invasion, Laconia, with the rest of
southern Greece, was inhabited by Achaeans. Of these
some left the country and established themselves in the
land to which they gave their name along the south shore
of the Corinthian Gulf; but a considerable number seem
to have remained in the country in a state of subjection to
the Dorians. These were known by the name of Periceci
(yrepioLKOL), or provincials ; and they enjoyed personal liberty
but had no political privileges. Below them was another class,
the Helots or slaves, whose origin is not very certainly
known, and who cultivated the lands of the Dorians or true
Spartans, who were thus left at leisure for the noble em¬
ployments of government and war. Thus the ruling power
was entirely in the hands of the Dorian race ; and the in¬
stitutions and character of the people were entirely Dorian.
Jlie first great event in Spartan history is the legislation of
'•c. 884. Lycurgus in the 9th century B.C. While it is impossible
to believe that such a system as prevailed in Sparta could
have been the work of one man, and not rather the gradual
result of time and circumstances, it is not on that account
necessary to deny altogether that Lycjurgus was a real per¬
sonage. The more probable opinion seems to be, that as a
long time must have elapsed before the commotions raised
by the Dorian invasion had subsided, and many dissensions
and abuses may have crept in ; the legislator’s work was to
rectify these, and restore the constitution according to the
ancient Dorian laws and customs. From this period on¬
wards, the history of Greece consists mainly of a narrative
of the gradual rise of Sparta to a supremacy at first over Spam,
the Dorians in the south, and then over the whole of Greece;
then of the more sudden rise of her rival Athens, and her
long contest with Sparta ; and finally, of the wars between
Sparta and Thebes, and the final subjection of the whole of
Greece to Philip of Macedon.
After the internal confusion had been rectified, and the
government firmly established, the energies of Sparta began
to find vent in foreign conquests. Their arms were at first
directed against Argos and Arcadia; but a more tempting
as well as an easier prey was to be found in the rich land of
Messenia, where the arts of peace were more flourishing
than those of war. Private feuds and border forays gave a
cause or a pretext to the first Messenian war, which was
begun in 743 b.c. by the sudden invasion of the country b.c. 743.
by the Spartans. They took by surprise the fortress of
Amphea near the border, from which they made inroads into
the very heart of the country. The Messenians for a time
did not venture to meet them in the open field, but remain¬
ing in their impregnable strongholds, confined their efforts
to retaliations on the Spartan territory. At length they
changed their tactics, and instead of scattering their forces
all over the country, concentrated them in the stronghold
of Ithome, so as to protect all the country behind it. This
policy proved for a long time successful, though the Mes¬
senians never gained any decided advantage ; but at length,
in 723, they were driven from Ithome, and thus the war b.c. 723.
ended by the total reduction of Messenia under the Spartan
power. A few of the principal men left the country, while
the bulk of the people were reduced to a condition similar
to that of the Helots. For 38 years the Messenians re¬
mained subject to their conquerors, but in 685 they made B>c<
an attempt to regain their liberty under a noble of the name
of Aristomenes, and thus began the second Messenian war.
The valour of this leader in his first engagement so alarmed
the Spartans, that they sought the advice of the Delphic
god, by whom they were directed to seek for an Athenian
counsellor. They obtained the assistance of Tyrtseus, tra¬
ditionally represented as a lame schoolmaster, and he ani¬
mated the Spartan courage by those warlike songs of which
there are still some fragments extant. Notwithstanding
this assistance, Aristomenes gained a great victory at Ste-
nyclerus, which for a time freed his country from the Spar¬
tans. But the Messenians were obliged at last to have
recourse to their former tactics, and this time they chose as
their stronghold Eira in the extreme north of the country.
For a long time they contrived, by means of the able con¬
duct and valiant exploits of their chieftain, to hold out
against the Spartans; but at last, in 668, the fortress was b.c. 668.
taken, its defenders being allowed to retire into Arcadia.
Thus ended the second Messenian war, leaving Sparta in
full possession of the whole of Laconia and Messenia. Nor
were the Spartans slow in pushing their aggressions in other
directions, though they nowhere met with such complete
success as in Messenia. Tegea in Arcadia, with which they
had long carried on hostilities, was in 545 forced to acknow- b.c. 545.
ledge their supremacy, and the district of Cynuria, near the
Laconian border, was conquered from Argos. Sparta thus
gradually rose to a lofty position ; and in the time of Crcesus
was aknowledged to be the most powerful of the Grecian
states. Another war with Argos about 525 b.c. terminated b.c. 525,
likewise in favour of the Spartans. At the instigation of
the Delphic oracle, the Spartans under Cleomenes invaded
Attica in 510, and expelled from Athens Hippias, the last b.c. 510.
of the Pisistratidse. They afterwards interfered under the
same leader in support of the aristocratic against the demo¬
cratic party ; but after holding the acropolis for some time,
Cleomenes was forced ignominiously to retreat. An at- b.c. 508.
tempt which he made immediately after to restore the aris¬
tocratic party, and another, somewhat later, to reinstate
Hippias as tyrant, proved utter failures. The circum-
SPARTA.
E.C. 490.
B.c. 480.
stances are narrated under Attica. We come nme to dhe
events which led to the Persian war. When applied to lor
assistance by the Ionian Greeks in then revolt against
Darius, the Spartans refused to aid them ; but afterwards,
when the Persian monarch sent to demand the subm.ss.on
of Greece to his authority, they joined with their country¬
men in reiecting the demand with contempt, and thus be¬
came involved equally with the Athenians in hostility against
Persia When the confederacy was first formed against
the Persians, the supremacy was admitted even by Athens
to belono- to Sparta; for when the Aeginetans gave into the
demands°of Darius, the Athenians sent to Sparta to accuse
them of betraying the common cause. A jealousy, however,
soon grew up between Sparta and Athens, and the narrow
and often selfish policy of the former tended to widen the
breach. In the first Persian invasion, they permitted the
Athenians single handed to meet and conquer the enemy
at Marathon, being prevented, as they said, from sending
aid in time by having to wait for the time ol full moon.
As a similar delay afterwards occurred on another critical
occasion, one may be permitted to suspect that it was not in
either case due wholly to superstition. In the invasion of
Xerxes, Sparta played a much more conspicuous part in de¬
fence of Grecian liberty; though even then the only en¬
gagement whose glory belongs exclusively to them was
that of Thermopylae ; and this celebrated battle, with all the
courao-e which it displayed, was productive of no good
results. The Persians were advancing with an immense
host through Macedonia and Thessaly against Greece.
The only spot where it could be hoped to make any eifec
tual resistance to their advance was the pass of Thermopylae,
between the eastern extremity of Mount Oeta and the
Malian Gulf. To the north-east, the pass expanded into a
small plain in which stood the town of Trachis, where Xeixes
was encamped during the battle. The force with which
Leonidas undertook to defend this pass consisted only of
300 Spartans, 400 Thebans, and from 8000 to 11,000 allies
from the other states. . , x c ,
Xerxes advancing near the pass, was surprised to hm
that the Greeks were resolved to dispute his passage; tor
he had always flattered himself, that on his approach they
would betake themselves to flight, and riot attempt to oppose
his innumerable forces. He waited four days without un¬
dertaking anything, on purpose to give them time to retreat.
He then ordered them by a herald to dehever up their
jfrms. Leonidas, in a style truly laconical, answered,
“ Come and take them.” Xerxes, transported with rage
at this reply, commanded the Medes and Cissians to marc i
against them, seize them alive, and bring them to him in
fetters. These troops, unable to break the ranks of the
Greeks, soon betook themselves to flight. In their room,
Hvdarnes was ordered to advance with that body which
was called Immortal, and consisted of 10,000 chosen men ;
but when these assailed the Greeks, they succeeded no
better than the Medes and Cissians, being obliged to retire
with great loss. The next day the Persians made another
attack ; but with all their efforts they could not make the
Greeks give way, and, on the contrary were themselves
put to a shameful flight. Having lost all hope of forcing
his way through troops that were determined to conquer
or die, Xerxes was extremely perplexed and doubtful what
measures he should adopt, when one Ephialtes, in expecta¬
tion of a great rew'ard, came to him, and pointed out a cn -
cuitous path which led to the rear of the Spartan foices. 1 he
king immediately ordered Hydarnes, with a select body o
Persians, to follow this path by night, and attack the
Greeks from behind. The Phocians who had been set to
guard this important route were taken by surprise, and
retired with precipitation to the very top of the mountain.
But Hydarnes, neglecting to pursue them, marched down
the mountain with all possible expedition, in order to attack
in the rear those who defended the straits. Leonidas, Sparta,
being apprised of the treachery of Ephialtes, and perceiving
that diere was no longer any hope of success, advised his
allies to retire, though he conceived that he himself and
the Spartans could not with honour retreat. With this
advice they all complied except the Thebans, who were
detained by Leonidas as hostages, for they were suspected
to favour the Persians, and the Thespians, who could not
be prevailed upon to abandon Leonidas. Xerxes, after
pouring out a libation at the rising of the sun, began to
move with the whole body of his army, as he had been
advised by Ephialtes. Upon their approach, Leonidas ad¬
vanced to the broadest part of the pass, and fell upon them
with undaunted courage and resolution. Great numbers
of the enemy falling into the sea, were drowned; others
were trampled under foot by their companions, and very
many killed by the Greeks; wdio, knowing they could not
avoid death upon the arrival of those who were advancing
to fall upon their rear, made prodigious efforts of valour.
In this action fell the brave Leonidas ; on which Abrocomcs
and Hyperanthes, two brothers of Xerxes, advanced to
seize his body, and carry it in triumph to Xerxes. But the
Lacedaemonians, more eager to defend it than their own
lives, repulsed the enemy four times, killed both the princes,
with many other commanders of distinction, and rescued
the body of their beloved general out of the enemy’s hands.
But in the meantime, as the troops, guided by Ephialtes, were
advancing to attack their rear, the surviving Greeks retired
to the narrowest part of the pass, and all drawing together,
except the Thebans, who laid down their arms, posted
themselves on a rising ground. In this place they made
head against the Persians, who assaulted them on all sides,
till at length, overwhelmed by numbers, they all fell, ex¬
cept one, who escaped to Sparta. Some time after, a monu¬
ment was erected at Thermopylae in honour of those brave
defenders of Greece, with two inscriptions ; the one general,
and relating to all those who died on this occasion, importing
that the Greeks of Peloponnesus, only 4000 in number,
fought against the Persian army, consisting of 3,000,000.
The other related to the Spartans in particular, and was
composed by the poet Simonides, in these words ‘ Go,
traveller, and tell the Spartans that we lie here in obe¬
dience to their laws.”
The Persian host now advanced, without further opposi¬
tion, into the heart of Greece, ravaging Phocis, Bceotia,
and Attica. The fate of Athens is narrated in the article
Attica. The Spartans at this time declined to send any
forces to resist the enemy in Northern Greece, and con¬
fined their efforts to the defence of the Peloponnese. Mean¬
while, however, the combined fleet, under Eurybiades, a
Spartan, encountered the Persian armada near Artemisium,
in the strait between Eubcea and the mainland. 1 his en¬
gagement proved indecisive; but soon afterwards the great
naval victory of Salamis was gained, chiefly by the conduct
of Themistocles and the services of the Athenian ships,
which formed the greater part of the fleet. This was the
first decisive check which the Persians received. Xerxes,
with the fleet, was obliged to take to flight, leaving only
his army under Mardonius to effect the conquest of Greece.
The Spartans were at length roused by the remonstrances
of the Athenians to make an effort for the expulsion of the
Persian army from Northern Greece; and in 479 despatched b.c.
a force of 40,000 men under Pausanias for that purpose.
No sooner did Mardonius hear of this movement than he
withdrew from Attica, where he had previously been en¬
camped, and pitched his camp on the Asopus in Bceotia.
Pausanias continued his advance, and was joined at Corinth
by the forces of the other Peloponnesian states, and at
Eleusis by those of Athens under Aristides. He then
took up a strong position on the Asopus, near Plataea, op¬
posite the Persian camp. For some days the two armies
SPARTA. 501
Sparta, remained in sight of each other, engaged in manoeuvres and
skirmishes, marching and countermarching, butwithout com¬
ing to a general engagement. The decisive battle of Plataea
was at length brought on more by accident than design on
cither side. Its issue remained doubtful, till the Persian
general fell in heading a charge of cavalry. On this the
whole army took to flight, and were pursued by the Greeks,
who, after a tremendous carnage, seized upon the camp, with
all its stores and treasures. This victory for ever delivered
Greece from the danger of Persian invasion. The broken
remains of the great army immediately began to retreat;
and their return to Asia forms one of the most disastrous
episodes in the whole course of ancient history. Not con¬
tent with self-defence, the Greeks, emboldened by their
success, prosecuted the war with Persia on the coasts of
Asia Minor, with a view to the emancipation of the Ionian
cities in that country. The victory of Mycale was gained
by the combined fleets on the same day as that of Platma.
Pausanias was soon after appointed to the command of the
naval forces of the confederacy ; and in this capacity he first
conquered Cyprus, and afterwards took Byzantium from
the Persians. But as he became elated with his success,
his proud and overbearing conduct excited the jealousy of
the allies, and they all, with the exception of the Pelopon-
c. 477. nesian states, called upon the Athenians to accept the
supremacy in the confederacy instead of the Spartans.
The latter thereupon withdrew altogether from the war,
and their ascendency was thenceforth confined to the Pelo-
ponnese, which still remained firm in its adherence to Sparta.
From this period the growing jealousy and opposition
between Sparta and Athens began more openly to break
out, until at length the two states were engaged in deadly
war with one another. In 465, the Spartans were on the
point of invading Attica, at the solicitation of the 1 hasians,
when their design w'as cut short by an alarming and
.c 464. dangerous event, which led to the outbreak of the third
Messenian w’ar. A most dreadful earthquake happened at
Sparta, in which, according to Diodorus, 20,000 persons
lost their lives; and Plutarch avers that only five houses
were left standing in the whole city. On this occasion
the Helots, descended from the ancient Messenians, at¬
tempted to regain their liberty, by making an assault on
the city, in hopes of gaining the upper hand in the con¬
fusion," and cutting off all who had escaped from the earth¬
quake. But their attempt was defeated by the prudence of
the Spartan king Archidamus, who, aware of the impend¬
ing danger, and observing that the citizens were exposing
themselves to an attack in their anxiety to preserve their
property, caused the alarm of war to be sounded. On this
the citizens armed themselves in haste with such weapons
as they could lay hold of; and meeting the insurgents a little
way from the city, by their superior discipline compelled them
to retire. The latter, however, knowing that they had now
no mercy to expect from those who had already treated
them wdth such cruelty, resolved to defend themselves to
the last. Having therefore seized upon their old strong¬
hold Ithome, they from thence made such incursions into
the Spartan territories that they compelled their imperious
masters to ask assistance from the Athenians. This was
immediately granted; but the consciousness of their own
bad faith led them to suspect that of the Athenians,
whom they in consequence dismissed, .while retaining the
services of all their other allies. On this the Athenians
left them in disgust, and allied themselves with the Argives
against Sparta. In 457 they attempted to intercept a
Spartan army returning from an expedition to Doris, but
were totally defeated atTanagra. Meanwhile, as the Mes¬
senians did not venture to come to an engagement with a
Spartan army in the field, but took shelter in their fortified
places, the war was protracted for nearly ten years. In
455 the Athenian fleet! under Tolmide$i sailing round the
Peloponnese, burned the Spartan arsenal at Gythium, and Sparta,
received the fugitive Messenians, who had at last been
compelled to surrender Ithome. These were then settled b.c. 455.
at Naupactus, which the Athenians had recently gained,
and there they proved steadfast allies of Athens, and con¬
stant foes to Sparta. Thus ended the third and last of the
Messenian wars. The war with Athens, however, still con¬
tinued, until, by the influence of Cimon, the leader of the
aristocracy in that city, who had been recalled from banish¬
ment about this time, a truce for five years was concluded B C- 450.
in 450. On the expiration of this truce, the Spartans in¬
vaded Attica, and had penetrated as far as Eleusis, when
they suddenly retired, induced, it is said, by bribes from b.c. 445.
Pericles. After this a peace was concluded for thirty years,
in terms more favourable to Sparta than those of the former.
But this peace did not last unbroken for half the time con¬
templated; for, in 431, the Peloponnesian war broke out, b.c. 431.
and during the twenty-seven years of its continuance, Greece
was almost without intermission torn by a deadly struggle
between her most powerful states. The allies and de¬
pendants of Sparta in this war comprised the whole of the
Peloponnese, except Argos and Achaia; and in Northern
Greece, Thebes, with the greater part of Bceotia; the
Opuntian Locrians, Phocians, Dorians, Altolians, and the
Corinthian colonies in the north-west. For an account
of the origin and course of the war see Attica. Towards
the close of this war Sparta had received much assistance
from the younger Cyrus, son of Darius, the Persian mon¬
arch, and satrap of Lydia, Phrygia, and Cappadocia. In
return for this, when Cyrus meditated an expedition to de¬
throne his brother Artaxerxes, he obtained the aid of
10,000 Spartan soldiers. The expedition failed by the b.c. 401.
defeat of Cunaxa, in which Cyrus fell, and the Greek gen¬
erals were soon after treacherously slain ; but Xenophon,
an Athenian, conducted safely the celebrated retreat of the
Greeks, of which he has left a narrative. The Ionian cities
which had supported Cyrus, refusing to submit to his suc¬
cessor Tissaphernes, applied for assistance to Sparta, and
thus led to a new Persian war. Under the command of b.c. 399.
Thimbron, and afterwards of Dercyllidas, the Spartan forces
gained great successes; and after Agesilaus took the com- b.c. 396.
mand, they very nearly overthrew the Persian Empire. But
the career of this victorious general was cut short by the
intrigues of the Persian satrap iithraustes, who succeeded
in raising a confederacy between the Thebans, Athenians,
Corinthians, and Argives, against Sparta, and thus causing
what has been called the Corinthian wrar. The Spartans, b.c. 395
under Lysander, invaded Bceotia, but suffered a total defeat
at Haliartus, where their general fell. Agesilaus was then
recalled from Asia; and returning, completely tui ned the
fortune of the war by his victory at Corinth in 394, and
soon after by that of Coronea. But the naval power of
Athens was re-established by the victory of Conon at
Cnidus; and in the subsequent course of the war the pres¬
tige of the Spartan arms was much weakened by the defeat
of her troops by Iphicrates. Both parties were at length
desirous of peace, which was concluded in 387, through the b.c. 387.
intervention of Persia. I his, which is known as the peace
of Antal cidas, was on the whole favourable to Sparta; and^
about this time that nation had attained the highest pitch of
power which it ever reached. .
By the peace of Antalcidas the 1 hebans were deprived
of the government of Bceotia, which they had for a long
time enjoyed, and they were so much provoked that at first
they absolutely refused to accede to the treaty; but as
Agesilaus made great preparations to attack them, they at
last thought proper to comply. It was not, however, long
before a new war commenced, which threatened the total
subversion of the Spartan state. As, by the peace of An¬
talcidas, the King of Persia had in a manner guaranteed .’ :. '
the sovereignty of Greece to Sparta, this republic very sooq
502
SPARTA.
Sparta.
B.c. 385.
B.c. 379.
b.c. 376.
b.c. 371.
B.c. 362.
B.c. 268.
B.c. 240.
B.c. 221.
B.C. 146,
besjan to exercise its power to the utmost extent. The
Mantineans were the first who felt the weight of their
resentment, although they had been their allies and con¬
federates. In order to find a pretext for making war against
them, they commanded them to quit their city, and to retire
into five old villages, which, they said, had served their
forefathers, and where they would live in peace themselves,
and give no umbrage to their neighbours. As they refused
to obey, an army was sent against them to besiege their
city. The siege was continued through the summer with
very little success on the part of the Spartans ; but having,
during the winter season, dammed up the river on which
the city stood, the water rose to such a height as either to
overflow or throw down the houses; and the Mantineans
were thus compelled to submit to the terms prescribed to
them, and to retire into the villages. The Spartan ven¬
geance next fell on the Phliasians and Olynthians, whom
they forced to agree to such measures as they thought
proper. After this they assailed the Thebans, and, by
attempting to seize on the Piraeus, drew the Athenians also
into the quarrel. But here their career was arrested : the
Thebans had been taught the art of war by Chabrias the
Athenian; so that even Agesilaus himself took the com¬
mand of the Spartan army in vain. At sea they were
defeated by Timotheus the son of Conon ; and by land the
battle of Leuctra put an end to the superiority which Sparta
had so long retained over Greece. After this dreadful
defeat, the Spartans had occasion to exert all their courage
and resolution. Agesilaus, by his prudent conduct, kept
up the spirits of the people, at the same time that by his
skill in military affairs he checked the progress of the
enemy. Yet, during the lifetime of Epaminondas, the
Theban general, the progress of the war was greatly to the
disadvantage of the Spartans; but after his death at the
battle of Mantinea, all parties soon became desirous of
peace. In the peace concluded in the following year, the
independence of Messenia was recognised; and though
Sparta at first refused to acknowledge it, she never re¬
gained her ancient dominion. Agesilaus did not long sur¬
vive ; and with him, we may affirm, perished the glory of
Sparta. Soon after this all the states of Greece fell under
the power of Philip of Macedon, who invaded Laconia after
his victory at Chaeronea in 338. The Spartans, however,
maintained their ground with great resolution against the
celebrated Pyrrhus king of Epirus, whom they repulsed for
three days successively, though not without assistance from
one of the captains of Antigonus. Soon after this one of
the kings of Sparta, named Agis, perceiving the universal
degeneracy that had taken place, made an attempt to re¬
store the laws and discipline of Lycurgus, by which he
hoped the state would be restored to its former glory.
But though at first he met with some appearance of suc¬
cess, he was in a short time tried and condemned by the
ephors as a traitor to his country. Cleomenes, however,
who ascended the throne in 216 B.C., accomplished the
reformation which Agis had in vain attempted. He sup¬
pressed the ephoralty; cancelled all debts; divided the
lands equally, as they had been in the time of Lycur¬
gus ; and put an end to the luxury which prevailed among
the citizens. Cleomenes also gained several victories over
the Achaean league, and conquered a large part of the
Peloponnese; but Antigonus Doson, king of Macedonia,
who had been summoned to the aid of the Achaeans, totally
defeated him in the battle of Sellasia. The Spartan king
then fled to Egypt, where he put an end to his own life.
With him perished every hope of retrieving the affairs of
Sparta; the city fell into the hands of Antigonus, after
which a succession of tyrants gained and lost the ascen¬
dency, till at last all disturbances were ended by the Ro¬
mans, who reduced Greece to the condition of a province.
It only remains to make some observations on the national
character, manners, and customs of the Spartans, which, as Sparta,
they were at once the cause and the result of the peculiar
constitution of the country, may best be learned from
a view of that constitution. It might seem, on first sight, Spartan
a singular circumstance that the government of Sparta, constitu-
which was constantly at the head of the aristocratic party tion.
in Greece, should exhibit what appears to be a very popular
character. But this apparent anomaly disappears when we
remember that the population of Laconia consisted of three
very different classes—the Spartans, or governing class; the Divisiona
Periceci, or subjects; and the Helots, or slaves. The fun-of the
damental principles of the constitution were two—the supe- people,
riority of the Spartans over both the other classes, and their
equality among themselves. Thus the government, in¬
stead of being at all popular, was a very narrow oligarchy;
for none of the inferior orders had any political privileges
whatever, and, in ordinary circumstances, none could ever
rise from a lower to a higher class. The Spartans them¬
selves were divided into three clans or families, and these
again were subdivided into thirty lesser divisions called
obes; but these distinctions, though founded on descent,
did not imply any difference in rank or privileges ; the only
inequality among the ruling class being the hereditary
right to the crown, which belonged to the two families of
the Heraclidae. And though in Sparta, alone of the Greek
states, the kingly form of government was permanently re¬
tained, it was very much limited by the other parts of the
state. The sovereign power ultimately resided in the
assembly of the people, held periodically in a field near the The popu-
city; and in it every Spartan, without respect to birth or lar assem-
wealth, had an equal voice. This assembly had the right %•
of filling all the elective offices in the state, of electing the
Gerusia or senate, and of accepting or rejecting the pro¬
posals made to it by the magistrates. They had the ulti¬
mate decision of all questions about peace and war, treaties,
taxes, changes in the constitution, and disputes about the
succession to the throne. The Gerusia, or council ofThegeru-
elders, consisted of thirty members, two of which were the Ba¬
kings, while the others were elected by the popular as¬
sembly in a singularly primitive fashion. The candidates,
whose only qualification was to be above sixty, came for¬
ward successively to the assembly, and were chosen accord¬
ing to the amount of applause they received, as judged by
persons shut up in a neighbouring room. The duties of
the senators, who held office for life, were to prepare
measures for the popular assembly, and to exercise criminal
jurisdiction. In this body the kings had no greater autho- The king
rity than their colleagues; but they presided in a tribunal
for civil affairs, they were the high-priests of the nation, and
shad the command of the armies. Of the inferior magis¬
trates little is known, with the exception of the ephors, Theephoi
who at one time rose to the highest pow'er in the state.
Their number was five, and they seem to have first come
into prominence at a period subsequent to that of Lycurgus.
It is not improbable that their power was either conferred
or greatly increased at the time of the conquest of Messenia,
when a new body of citizens seems to have been admitted,
and, like the Roman tribunes, whom they resembled in
many respects, they may have been representatives of the
newly admitted and at first inferior citizens. They en¬
grossed the greater part of the civil jurisdiction, which had
before belonged to the kings; and they had the power even
to control the royal proceedings.
The great prevailing principle of the Spartan institutions Manners
was the subordination of the interests of the individual to^.^81
those of the community : the citizen was to live only for
the state ; all his wealth, powers, time, and if need be his
life itself, were to be given up to its service. This state
of things was the necessary result of the position of the
Spartans in the country they had conquered; a mere hand¬
ful of men compared with the numbers of their subjects
SPA
Sparta, and slaves, who were of a wholly distinct and even hostile
race. To this cause must be ascribed the martial char¬
acter of the training to which every Spartan was subjected.
From their very birth all the children were considered to
be the property of the state, and though left to the care of
their parents till their seventh year, they were from that
time onwards put under a course of public discipline, gra¬
dually increasing in severity, and having for its one object
to make them perfect soldiers. This training continued
till the age of thirty; and even after that time they were
liable to military service until they were sixty. The pub¬
lic meals (syssitia) and hard fare of the Spartans are well
known, and may be traced back to. the same general
principle as their other institutions. Industry and com¬
merce were very far from being encouraged at Sparta ; all
agriculture, manufactures, and trade being considered un¬
worthy the attention of the free-born citizen, and left to
the inferior classes. The only legal currency was of iron,
a restriction which, if it was intended to discourage the
love of money, most signally defeated its own end, for
there were no vices to which the Spartans were more prone
than those of venality and avarice. A remarkable feature
of Spartan society was the much greater freedom allowed
and respect paid to women, than in any other of the Greek
states. In this matter they probably retained very much
of the old manners of the heroic age.
parian The national character of the Spartans exhibited many
haracter. shining virtues, such as unwavering patriotism and public
spirit, dauntless courage and endurance, a primitive sim¬
plicity of life and tastes, indefatigable perseverance, and a
temper submissive to the laws of the state ; but these were
balanced by equally glaring faults, overbearing pride and
narrow-minded exclusiveness, avarice, duplicity, and a total
disregard of honour and uprightness in their dealings with
foreign states. The uniformity of training to which they
were all subjected naturally discouraged any great or ori¬
ginal genius, and hardly any Spartan was ever celebrated
in arts or literature, science or philosophy. All the great
names of which she can boast, as those of Leonidas,
Pausanias, Brasidas, Lysander, and Agesilaus, were distin¬
guished solely for military genius, and even in their own
sphere were equalled by many of the citizens of her more
illustrious rival Athens. But although in reading the
history of Greece our sympathies are irresistibly drawn to
the side of Athens, it should be remembered that one im¬
portant phase of the Grecian character is most fully ex¬
hibited in the Spartan institutions and history.
% of With regard to the city of Sparta, the remark of Thucyd-
’P^ta. if jt were destroyed, posterity would have some
difficulty in inferring the power of the nation from the
extent of the remains that would be left, has proved pro¬
phetical ; for of Sparta it might be said at the present day,
with almost as much truth as of Ti'oy long ago, “ etiam
periere ruince.” The city, like that of Rome, was built on
a series of small hills, connected with the chain of Taygetus,
and on the plain to the south-east, between these hills and
the Eurotas. It was originally formed by the union of four
earlier hamlets, Pitane, Limnae, Mesoa, and Cynosura, and
it was never a very compactly built place, but always re¬
tained its original gardens, plantations, and other character¬
istics of village life. Pitane, which was the most fashion¬
able quarter of the town, lay farthest north; Limnae lay
along the bank of the Eurotas; Mesoa probably occupied
the extreme south-east, and Cynosura the extreme south¬
west. In the midst of these different quarters stood the
acropolis and market-place of Sparta. In the former the
principal building was the temple of Athena Chalcicecus,
or of the Brazen House, so called because it was covered
with plates of bronze ; also a temple of the muses, and
several others of smaller size. The spacious agora or
market-place was surrounded by colonnades, and from it the
S P E 503
principal streets in the city diverged. In it stood the Spartacus
senate-house, with the offices of the ephors and other ||
magistrates ; but its chief ornament was the splendid Spelman.
marble portico erected from the spoils of the Persian war, 's—v-*''
and embellished with numerous sculptures. The principal
streets were the Aphetais running southwards from the
agora, and the Scias running to the south-east, both of
which were lined with many temples and public buildings.
Another street led westward from the agora to the theatre,
a building used in the good old days of Sparta, not for
dramatic, but for athletic sports. The private dwellings of
the Spartans, like those of the Romans in early days, were
poor and mean, as they reserved all sumptuous and ex¬
pensive decorations for the temples of the gods and the
halls of the nation. The city was, in its flourishing days,
never fortified, being defended, not by walls, but by the
arms of its citizens; and until the invasion of Epaminondas,
no enemy ever approached near the capital. At a later
period hasty defences were thrown up, but Sparta was not
regularly fortified till it came under the power of the
Romans. A modern town has been built since the Greek
revolution on one of the hills of Sparta, and the village of
Mistra lies not far off.
SPARTACUS. See Roman History.
SPASK, a town of European Russia, in the government
and 30 miles E.S.E. of Riazan, on a lake of the same name,
which communicates with the Oka. Here are several
churches, a school, and many public and private gardens.
Many of the inhabitants are employed in cotton factories,
and also in the navigation of barges on the Oka. Pop.
4433.
Spask, another town of Russia, on the Studenetz, in
the government and 110 miles N.N.E. of Tambov. It con¬
tains churches and schools, and has some manufactures of
iron-ware. Pop. 4447.
SPECIES. See Logic.
SPECIFIC GRAVITY. See Hydrodynamics.
SPECTACLES. See Optics.
SPECTRA, images presented to the eye after removing
them from a bright object, or closing them. These ocular
spectra are of four kinds: 1st, Such as are owing to a less
sensibility of a defined part of the retina, or spectra from
defect of sensibility. 2d, Such as are owing to a greater
sensibility of a defined part of the retina, or spectra from
excess of sensibility. 3d, Such as resemble their object in
its colour as well as form; which may be termed direct
ocular spectra. 4th, Such as are of a colour contrary to
that of their object, which may be termed reverse ocular
spectra.
SPECULUM. See Optics and Telescope.
SPEED, John, an English historian, was born at Farring¬
ton in Cheshire, in the year 1542. He was by trade a tailor,
and a freeman of the company of merchant-tailors in the city
of London. In 1606 he published his Theatre of Great
Britain, which was afterwards reprinted in folio, under the
title of The Theatre of the Empire of Great Britain. In
1614 appeared his History of Great Britain; and in 1616
he published in octavo, The Cloud of Witnesses, or the Ge¬
nealogies of Scripture. These genealogies were prefixed
to many editions of the English translation of the Bible;
and King James gave him a patent for securing the pro¬
perty to him and his heirs. His works were really of but
little merit, and owed their chief excellences to other writers.
He had twelve sons and six daughters, and died in 1629.
He was interred in the church of St Giles’s, Cripplegate,
London, where a monument was erected to his memory.
SPELMAN, Sir Henry, an eminent antiquary, was de¬
scended from an ancient family, and born at Congham,
near Lynn in Norfolk, in 1562. He studied at Trinity
College, Cambridge, and afterwards took to the profession of
law. He was appointed sheriff of his county, and afterwards
504 S P E
Spence,
Joseph.
was knighted by King James I., who had a particular esteem
for him on account of his known capacity for business, and
he employed him several times in Ireland in public affairs.
When he*was about fifty years of age, he retired to London,
whither his genius had always inclined him. He collected
all such books and MSS. as concerned the subject of an¬
tiquities, either foreign or domestic, and published in 1626
the first part of his well-known Glossarium Archaiologicum,
which he never carried beyond the letter L. The next
work which he undertook was an edition of the English
Councils; of which he published the first volume in 1639,
leaving the second volume, as well of this as of his Glossary,
to be published by Dugdale. The second volume appeared
in 1664. Spelman wrote several other works relating to
ancient laws and customs, and died in 1641. Upon his
death, all his papers came into the hands of his son, Sir John
Spelman, a gentleman who had abilities to have completed
his father’s design, if death had not prevented him. The
second part w'as afterwards published by Sir William Dug¬
dale, but with all the marks of a scanty unfinished perfor¬
mance. His Treatise concerning Tithes, and his History
of Sacrilege, deserve a passing notice. His posthumous
works were published at Oxford, in folio, in the year 1698,
under the inspection of Gibson, afterwards Bishop of Lon¬
don.
SPENCE, Joseph, an amiable English writer, was born
in the year 1699, but his family history remains in obscurity.
He was educated at Eton, Winchester, and New College,
Oxford, where he took his degree of A.M. in 1727. The
previous year he published a small volume enticed, An Essay
on Pope's Odyssey, in which some particular beauties and
blemishes of that work are considered. This essay was
greatly admired by his contemporaries, and it procured him
the friendship of Pope. Spence was elected professor of
poetry in 1728, and held that office ten years, which is as
long as the statutes will allow. His account of Stephen
Duck was first published in 1731 ; but it was afterwards
much altered, and prefixed to an edition of Duck’s Poems.
Towards the close of the year 1730 he travelled into
Italy as companion to Charles, earl of Middlesex. He
likewise visited the continent in 1737 and in 1739. In
1736 he republished Gorboduc, at Pope’s desire, with a pre¬
face giving an account of its author, the Earl of Dorset.
He quitted his fellowship in 1742, upon being presented by
his college to the rectory of Great Horwood in Buckingham¬
shire. He never resided on his living; but paid it an an¬
nual visit, distributing large sums of money among the poor,
and providing for many of their children. T he same year he
was appointed professor of modern history at Oxford. In
1 747 he published a large folio volume entitled, Polyme¬
tis ; or, an Inquiry concerning the Agreement between the
Works of the Roman Poets and the Remains of Ancient
Artists; being an attempt to illustrate them mutually
from each other. By the publication of this work, Spence
is said to have cleared L.loOO. He was installed preben¬
dary of the seventh stall at Durham on the 24th May 1754.
Besides editing Blacklock’s Poems, he wrote a number of
tracts on various subjects, which will be found in Dodsley’s
Fugitive Pieces. On the 20th of August of the same year,
he was unfortunately drowned in a canal at Byfleet in Surrey.
More than half a century after his death, appeared his
gossiping Anecdotes, Observations, and Characters of Books
and Men, collected from the Conversation of Mr Pope, and
others, with Notes and a Life of the Author by S. W. Singer,
London, 1820, 8vo, 2d edition, 1858. This is the only
work by which Spence is now known. Dr Johnson, in his
Life of Pope, says of Spence, that he “was a man whose
learning was not very great, and whose mind was not very
powerful. His criticism, however, was commonly just;
what he thought he thought rightly, and his remarks were
recommended by his coolness and candour.”
S P E
Spence, William, an eminent entomologist, was born
in 1783. In early life he was engaged in business at Hull,
and it was here he contracted the taste for the study of in¬
sect life which led to his introduction to the Rev. William
Kirby, and with whom he engaged in the production of
one of the most popular works in the English language on \
the study of natural history. This work was An Introduc¬
tion to Entomology, or Elements of the Natural History of
Insects. The work was suggested originally by Spence in
1808, and the first volume of it appeared in 1815. The
work was completed in 4 vols. in 1826, and has already
gone through seven editions. The two entomologists ex¬
changed specimens in 1805, and this gradually led to the
warmest friendship between them. (See Kirby, William.)
Spence, besides contributing his share to this great work
on natural history, wrote besides various papers illustra¬
tive of insect life, for the Linnean Transactions, and for
the Magazine of Natural History. He was for many years
Fellow of the Royal, Linnean, and Entomological Societies.
He sat in parliament at the beginning of the present cen¬
tury, and wrote a political pamphlet, which attracted a con¬
siderable degree of attention, on the independency of Great
Britain on foreign nations. He died at his residence in
London, where he had lived during the latter part of his
life, on the 10th of January 1860.
SPENCER, John, a learned theologian, was born at
Bocton-under-Blean, in Kent, in the year 1630. From
the grammar-school of Canterbury he was removed to Cor¬
pus Christi College at Cambridge, where he was entered
on the 25th of March 1645. Having taken the degree of
A.B. in 1648, and of A.M. in 1652, he was chosen a fellow
in 1655. In 1660 he preached a sermon before the uni¬
versity, and during the same year it was published under
the title of The Righteous Ruler. He afterwards pub¬
lished a learned and curious work, entitled A Discourse
concerning Prodigies. To the second edition, corrected
and enlarged, he added A Discourse concerning vulgar Pro¬
phecies, Lond., 1665, 8vo. During the same year, he took
his degree of D.D. In 1667, he was presented by his college
to the rectory of Landbeach, and on the 3d of August
elected master of the college. About a month after his
election, he was preferred by the king to the archdeaconry
of Sudbury, in 1672 to a prebend of Ely, and in 1677 to
the deanery of that church. In 1669 he had published a
Latin dissertation concerning Urim and Thummim. But
his most elaborate work is De Legibus Hebraorum Ritu-
alibus, et earum Rationibus, libri tres., Cantab., 1685, 2
tom. tbl. An edition, with the author’s additions and im¬
provements, was published at Cambridge in 1727; and
several editions, one by Pfaff, was printed on the continent.
Dr Spencer died on the 27th of May 1695, in the 63d
year of his age. He was a great benefactor to his college,
to which he bequeathed an estate that had cost him L.3600.
He married Hannah, the daughter of Isaac Pullen of Hert¬
ford, and had a son and a daughter, who both died before
their father.
Spencer, John Charles, third Earl, better known by
the title of Lord Althorp, which he bore throughout the
greater part of his life, was the eldest son of the second
Earl Spencer, and of Lavinia, daughter of the Earl ot
Lucan, and was born on the 30th of May 1782. He was
educated at Harrow and Cambridge, where he received the
honorary degree of M.A. in 1802. At the age of 22 he
became member for Oakhampton, and in 1806 he was an
unsuccessful candidate for the University of Cambridge.
He was returned during the same year for Northampton¬
shire, which he continued to represent until the passing
of the Reform Bill. He was vigilant, active, unostenta¬
tious, and honest in his political conduct during the long
reign of the Tories. On Lord Grey coming to power
in November 1830, Althorp was appointed Chancellor ot
Spence,
William
Spencer,
John
Charles.
S P E
jpener. the Exchequer. While he held this responsible office,
^ he was distinguished for his industry and candour, and
“the honest Lord Althorp” was a name by which he was
long known to the House of Commons and the public. In
his public appearances he was shy and undecided, and had
a thick and painful utterance. Much more capable of
gathering the juice of details than of extracting the riches
from a large generalization, he was incapable, rather than
otherwise, of grasping with iron hand the intelligence and
the sympathies of the House. Yet it was astonishing the
patience with which they waited on his sluggish utterance
and his general clumsiness. This was doubtless owing to
the high character which he bore. His mind was naturally
vigorous, his memory was good, his affections were warm,
and he was wholly free from malice in his public conduct.
Lord Jeffrey expresses once and again his admiration of
his “ calm, clumsy, courageous, immutable probity, and well
meaning.” The good sense and the unflinching honesty of
the man carried him over many a quagmire in which many
a cleverer man would have unquestionably sunk. The
most conspicuous measures which he supported were the
Reform Bill and the Poor Law Amendment Act.
On the 10th of November 1834 Lord Althorp was ele¬
vated to the Upper House by his father’s death, and his
majesty at once availed himself of the opportunity of de¬
claring the Melbourne ministry dissolved. Henceforward
Earl Spencer confined his energies for the most part to the
improvement of agriculture and to the growth of cattle.
It was at his suggestion the Royal Agricultural Society was
formed in 1837; and he was not only chosen president of
this society, but likewise of the Yorkshire Agricultural
Society in 1843. Lord Spencer was likewise an original
member of the Roxburghe Club, and was vice-chairman
of the council of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge. Lord Brougham dedicates to him his Dis¬
course on the Study of Natural Theology, 1835; and it is
understood that it is Lord Althorp with whom he conducts
his Dialogues on Instinct, 1839. Lord Spencer died at his
seat, Wiseton Hall, in Nottinghamshire, on the 1st of Oc¬
tober 1845. He was succeeded in the peerage by his next
surviving brother.
SPENER, Philip Jakob, founder of the Pietists in
Germany, and an exceedingly active reformer of the Prot¬
estant Church, was born, on the 13th of January 1635, at
Rappoltsweiler in Alsace, now Ribeauville, in the depart¬
ment of Haut-Rhin in France. His father was a councillor
of his native town, and he received much of his early educa¬
tion from the Countess of Rappoltstein and her chaplain, who
seem to have taken great interest in the lad. He displayed
early a strong leaning to theology and mysticism. At 15
years of age he was sent to the gymnasium of Colmar, and
subsequently went to Strasburg to study theology under
Schmidt and Dannhauer, who were hot Lutherans. His
mind was active and open, and he stored it with all manner
of solid learning, from Grotius and his philosophy down to
Hebrew and Arabic. Having taken his degree in philos¬
ophy in 1654, he became for a time tutor to the sons of
the Prince of Birkenfeld, and delivered lectures on philo¬
sophy and history. From 1659 to 1662 he visited, in pur¬
suit of knowledge, the universities of Basle, Tubingen,
Freiburg, Geneva, and Lyons. In the latter town, his con¬
tact with Pere Menestrier determined him to heraldry, and
he published a number of works of no great interest, and
chiefly of a genealogico-historical character. On his re¬
turn to Strasburg, he was appointed public preacher in
1662, and he at once rose into notice by the fervid piety
of his discourses and the purity of his life. He was soon
invited to Frankfort-on-the-Main, where his earnestness
S P E 505
and zeal soon gained him followers, and his intemperate Spenser,
denunciations of the Calvinists drew from him many of the
powerful and wealthy citizens of the town. The Calvinists
remonstrated with Spener, and, to the scandal of his own
party, he listened to their complaints, and resolved hence¬
forward to confine his denunciations to the vicious and the
immoral.
In 1670 he set on foot his “ Collegia Pietatis,” which
consisted of a meeting of any of his hearers who found any
difficulties in his weekly discourses, or who required further
explanation of anything that had been advanced in his ser¬
mons. In 1675 appeared his Pia Desideria, pointing out
the need of a reform in the preaching of Germany, and in¬
veighing against all who held up mere doctrine to their
people, to the neglect of common Christian charity and
humility. In 1686 he removed to Dresden, at the request of
the Elector of Saxony, where he was made court preacher
and member of the consistory. The resistance of some
clergymen to the doctrines of mysticism called forth, in
1691, his work on the Independence of Christians from all
Human Authority in Matters of Faith, which materially
extended the principles of tolerance throughout Germany.
At the University of Leipsic the nickname of Pietists was
first bestowed on the followers of Spener; and one of his
disciples, a theological teacher, had been persecuted by the
other professors. An appeal was made to the elector, but
in vain, and Spener found it for his advantage to remove
to Berlin, where the office of provost, of inspector of the
church of St Nicholai, and assessor of the consistory,
awaited him. Here he enjoyed great respect. Being
charged with heresy in 1692 by the theologians of Halle,
Spener wrote in his own defence the True Agreement with
the Confession of Augsburg. Friedrich August I., on his
accession to the throne of Saxony in 1694, urgently soli¬
cited his return to Dresden, but he declined. The good
and pious Spener died at Berlin on the 5th of February
1705. In 1700-9 appeared his Theolog. Bedenken, in 4
vols.; and in 1711 there were added to those theological
replies, Letzte Theolog. Bedenken. Besides his Kleinere
Schriften, published by Steinmetz, there likewise appeared
the posthumous work, Consilia Theologica, in 1709. His life
was written by Canstein in 1740, and by Hossbach in 1828.
SPENSER, Edmund, one of the greatest of English
poets, was born probably in East Smithfield, London, about
the year 1553.1 * There is no record in which the admirers
of his genius may trace the incidents of his early years;
but there is reason to suppose that they were clouded by
poverty and dependence. On the 20th ot May 1569, he
entered Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, in the humble charac¬
ter of a sizer; a circumstance which is alone sufficient to
rescue those luckless scholars from despondency, and to
render them respectable in the eyes of their more fortunate
companions. Some poems, in a collection of fugitive pieces
entitled, The Theatre for Worldlings, which appeared during
this year, are ascribed to Spenser, upon internal evidence.
On the 10th of January 1572-3 he took the degree of
A.B., and on the 26th of June 1576 that of A.M. From
a letter of his friend Gabriel Harvey, himself a poet of
some reoutation in his time, it appears that, in consequence
of having made enemies, who had both the will and power
to injure him, he quitted Cambridge in despair of academ¬
ical preferment. He had luckily some friends in the north
of England, among whom he now found a temporary
asylum? Whether he was received as an honoured guest,
or compelled to turn his learning to account in the way of
tuition, is unknown; but the latter supposition is the more
probable of the two.
During his retirement in the north, Spenser wrote The
1 Thomas Keightley, in a late number of Fraser's Magazine (October 1859), ingeniously argues that Spenser’s birth must have taken
place as early as 1551. „
VOL. XX. ** 3
506
SPENSER.
Spenser. Shepherd’s Calender. Nothing is more common than for
poets to deprecate the barbarity of a phantom, and to be
reduced to despair, because some angelic nonenity turns a
deaf ear to their entreaties; but it is said that “Rosalind”
was a real mistress, at whose feet Spenser sighed in vain.
The successful rival of the needy sonneteer was, in all
likelihood, some substantial yeoman. At this period of his
history, Harvey advised him to try his fortune in London;
and it is probable that he abandoned without reluctance
the scene of his unrequitted passion. Upon his arrival in
the metropolis, he was fortunate enough to obtain an intro¬
duction to Sir Philip Sidney, who invited him to become
his guest at Penshurst, the seat of the family in Kent. As
a token of gratitude for this hospitality, the Shepherd’s
Calender, published in 1579, by E. R., was “entituled to
the noble and vertuous gentleman, most worthy of all titles,
Maister Philip Sidney.”
Till long after the time of Spenser, the poet depended
upon the casual gratuities of distinguished persons, who
sometimes exerted their influence in procuring for a favour¬
ite bard some less precarious means of subsistence. Re¬
commended, as it is conjectured, by the Earl of Leicester,
uncle to Sir Philip Sidney, the poet went to the continent,
as Keightley conjectures, in 1579-80, and subsequently
proceeded to Ireland with Arthur, Lord Grey of Wilton,
who was appointed deputy of that kingdom in 1580. Dur¬
ing this year he had begun his Faerie Queen, for he writes
to Harvey, April 10, 1580, asking him to return it. Spen¬
ser was the secretary of the viceroy, and discharged the
duties of his office with greater promptitude and exactness
than poets usually display in the ordinary business of life.
His View of the State of Ireland, a treatise written in the
form of a dialogue, probably between 1593 and 1596, dis¬
plays no inconsiderable portion of political sagacity. By
the interest of Lord Grey, Leicester, and Sidney, Spenser
s obtained, in 1586, a grant of 3028 acres of the forfeited
- estates of the Earl of Desmond. This piece of good for¬
tune was imbittered by the death of his patron, the gallant
Sidney, who fell in the same year at the battle of Zutphen.
The pastoral elegy of “ Astrophel,” sacred to the memory
of the departed hero, although not published until 1595,
was probably written when the grief of the poet was at
its height. It was provided by the royal patent, that those
who profited by the forfeiture should reside upon the lands
that were allotted to them. According to this arrangement,
Spenser proceeded to a place named Kilcolman, in the
county of Cork. This exile, to what was then little better
than a region of barbarians, was cheered by a visit from
the renowned Sir Walter Raleigh in 1589. At the sugges¬
tion, it may be presumed, of his distinguished guest, whom
perhaps he accompanied to England, the poet soon exchanged
his Hibernian solitude for the splendours of a court. In
1590 were published the first three books of the Fairy
Queen ; and the poet was afterwards presented by Raleigh
to Queen Elizabeth, who conferred upon him a pension of
fifty pounds a-year, then no despicable sum. The grant of
this pension was discovered in the chapel of the Rolls by
Malone, who has thus been enabled to clear the reputation
of Lord Burleigh from the stigma of having intercepted
the bounty of his sovereign to the author of the Fairy
Queen. Malone has also made it appear that Queen
Elizabeth had no poet-laureate, an appointment which
was supposed to have been held by Spenser. In the sonnets
annexed to the poem is one to his new patron, “ the right
noble and valorous knight, Sir Walter Raleighbut
Spenser does not forget to shed a grateful tear to the memory
;f,;; of Sidney. There is a sonnet addressed to the Countess
of Pembroke, the darling sister of that accomplished person,
for whose amusement he wrote his Arcadia. With mourn¬
ful dignity, the poet acknowledges to the countess his many
obligations to
 that most heroicke spirit,
The heauens pride, the glory of our dales.
During his absence in Ireland, to which kingdom he re¬
turned after the publication of the Fairy Queen, was printed
a collection of Spenser’s minor pieces, entitled Complaints:
containing sundrie small Poems of the World’s Vanitie.
Whereof the next page maketh mention, by Ed. Sp.,
Lond., 1591, 4to. This production was followed by Daph-
noida, an elegy on the death of Douglas Howard, daughter
of Henry Lord Howard. It is dated January 1, 1591-2.
About this period he is supposed to have paid a visit to his
native country; after which a considerable space intervenes
unmarked by incidents.
Being no longer a pennyless rhymster, Spenser now
wooed a kinder mistress than “ Rosalind.” This lady, whose
name is unknown (Keightley conjectures it was Elizabeth),
became his wife in 1593 or 1594. This progress of this
successful courtship is traced in his Amoretti, or Sonnets.
In 1595 appeared the pastoral of Colin Clout’s come home
again. It is dedicated to Sir Walter Raleigh, who is intro¬
duced as the Shepherd of the Ocean. In 1596, he pub¬
lished four Hymns. He informs the Countess of Cumber¬
land and the Countess of Warwick, to whom they are in¬
scribed, that the two latter, composed in his riper years,
and treating of heavenly love and beauty, were designed
to atone for the two former, which were written in the
heyday of his blood, and of which the subjects are sensual
desire and earthly grace. In the same year, or more prob¬
ably three years earlier (Sonnet 18), were produced the
fourth, fifth, and sixth books of the Fairy Queen. Of that
magnificent poem, two additional imperfect cantos are all
that can be found. Our limits prohibit the discussion of the
question, whether the remaining six books, which would have
completed the design, were destroyed by fire during the
Irish rebellion, or left unfinished. Nor is there much utility
in transcribing a long list of poems no longer extant, which
are supposed to have shared their fate. In the course of
this year, Spenser presented his View of the State of Ireland
to the queen; but, for reasons not very clearly explained,
that performance was not printed until thirty-five years
after the author’s death. It was published by Sir James
Ware in Dublin in 1633.
In a letter from Queen Elizabeth to the Irish govern¬
ment, dated September 30, 1598, which was discovered by
Malone, Spenser is recommended to be sheriff of Cork.
A royal recommendation is generally equivalent to a com¬
mand, but the rebellion of Tyrone put a period to all the
poet’s hopes of dignity and emolument. To escape the fury
of the insurgents, he abandoned his house in Kilcolman,
leaving behind him one of his children, who had been for¬
gotten in the terror of the moment. Having removed every
thing else that it contained, the miscreants set fire to the
building, and left the infant to perish in the flames. The
burning of his house and the spoiling of his goods are
attributed to his own cupidity by some writers, but the fact
of his having been nominated sheriff of Cork is sufficient
to account for it. Spenser did not long survive these mul¬
tiplied calamities. On the 16th of January 1598-9, soon
after his arrival in England, he died at an inn in King
Street, Westminster, London. The authority for this asser¬
tion, it must be confessed, is somewhat slender. It rests
on the implied truthfulness of a statement in a manuscript
notice in a copy of the Faerie Queen that had originally
belonged to Henry Capell, “ Qui obiit,” says this notice,
“ apud diversorium in platea Regia apud Westmonasterium
juxta London, 16° die Januarii 1598.” The expenses of
his funeral were defrayed by the unfortunate Earl of Essex,
who buried him in Westminster Abbey, near the remains
of Chaucer; a spot on which he had always desired to take
his last repose. Ben Jonson, in his Conversations with
Drummond, stated, with what truth it is difficult to say,
Spenser.
S P E
Spenser. “ that the Irish having rob’d Spenser’s goods and burnt his
house and a little child new born, he and his wyf escaped;
and after, he died for lake of bread in King Street, and
refused twenty pieces sent to him by my Lord of Essex,
and said, ‘ He was sorrie be had no time to spend them.’ ”
Spenser left two sons, Sylvanus and Peregrine. Hugo-
lin, the son of the latter, was restored to his grandfather’s
estate by Charles II.; but, adhering to the infatuated suc¬
cessor of that monarch, he was outlawed, after the Revolu¬
tion, for high treason. The lands of the outlaw, however,
were bestowed upon his cousin William, the son of Sylva¬
nus, through the interest of Montague, afterwards Earl of
Halifax. William Spenser was presented to the notice of
Montague by Congreve. “ The family of the Spensers,”
says Gibbon, “ has been illustrated and enriched by the
trophies of Marlborough, but I exhort them to consider the
Fairy Queen as the most precious jewel in their coronet.”
Of Spenser’s personal character we are in a great measure
left to form our opinion from his works. Both the ten¬
dency and details of these are highly favourable to virtue ;
and the many chaplets he threw upon the hearse of Sidney
prove that he cherished the memory of his benefactor with
pious care. It is easy to imagine gratitude allied to every
other noble quality, and it is mere misanthropy to question
the sincerity of tears that fall to those who can give no more.
Dr G. L. Craik, in his admirable volumes on Spensei- and
his Poetry, has the following remarks : — The Fairy
Queen “is not a poem like the Iliad, fiery, passionate,
dramatic as life itself; it is all more like to a dream than
to waking life. Its descriptions and pictures, it must be
confessed, more resemble visions in the clouds than any¬
thing to be seen on earth. And this, we apprehend, is
what Coleridge must be understood to mean when he says
that Spenser’s descriptions are not, in the true sense of the
word, picturesque; but then no more are Claude’s land¬
scapes picturesque. Both want a peculiar piquancy which
is one of the characteristics and constituents of the pictu¬
resque as commonly limited. It is essentially a thing of
earth rather than of heaven, tending always towards the
human, almost towards the domestic, offering nestling
places for the affections ; delighting, therefore, more in
houses and fields than in mountains and forests, and more
in mountains and forests than in sea and sky. Spenser’s
descriptions are not picturesque in this sense, because his
poetry has so little flesh and blood throughout. Yet he is
surely one of the very greatest of painters in words, diffuse
and florid, no doubt, rather than energetic and expressive ;
but of what affluence and prodigality of power and re¬
sources in his own style, of what inexhaustible ingenuity
and invention, of what flowing freedom of movement, of
how deep and exquisite a sense of beauty ! He is, indeed,
distinctly and pre-eminently the poet of the beautiful. Of
the purely beautiful, as consisting simply in form and colour,
his poetry is the richest storehouse in the literature of the
world ; and what it contains of this pure essential beauty
is not more matchless for its quantity than for the quality
of much of it. Nor let it be supposed that this is a narrow
realm in which he reigns supreme. The region of form is
of boundless extent, comprehending whatever gratifies the
sense of sight and sound, or the imagination and fancy as
excited through them. But Spenser’s poetry is full also of
the spirit of moral beauty. It is not a passionate song, but
yet it is both earnest and high-toned, and it is pervaded by
a quiet tenderness that is always soothing, often touching:
a heart of gentleness and nobleness ever lives and beats in
it. With all its unworldliness, too, it breathes throughout
a thoughtful wisdom, which looks deep even into human
things; and oftenest sad and pitying, is yet also sometimes
stern. Thus, although the music is in the air, and invisible
spirits seem to make it, it wants not many a note betraying
its mortal origin.
s P E 507
“ Spenser’s verse is the most abundantly musical in Eng- Speusip-
lish poetry. Even Milton’s, more scientific and elaborate, pus.
and also rising at times to more volume and grandeur of
tone, has not so rich a natural sweetness and variety, or so
deep a pathos. His poetry swims in music ; he winds his
way through stanza after stanza of his spacious song, more
like one actually singing than writing, borne along, it might
seem, almost without effort or thought.
“ His treatment of words upon such occasions is like
nothing that ever was seen, unless it might be Hercules
breaking the back of the Nemean lion. He gives them
any sense and any shape that the case may demand.
Sometimes he merely alters a letter or two, sometimes he
twists off the head or the tail of the unfortunate vocable
altogether. In short, it is evident that he considers his
prerogative in such matters to be unlimited. But this
fearless, lordly, truly royal style in which he proceeds makes
one only fear the more how easily, if he chose, he could
avoid the necessity of having recourse to such outrages.
After all, they do not occur so frequently as much to mar
the beauty of his verse: the more brilliant passages of
the poem are for the most part free from them.
“ Distinct and dissimilar in many respects, opposed in
some, as are the genius of Spenser and that of Homer, we
have yet always felt that there is something in the poetry
of the one that recalls that of the other. The fire, the
passion, the dramatic life, the narrative rapidity of Homer,
Spenser wants ; the Homeric is of all poetry that in which
there is most flesh and blood, the Spenserian that in which
there is the least. Homer is both soul and body, Spenser
is only soul, or soul with the body laid asleep as it is in
dreams ; the Homeric poetry is essentially and intensely of
this world, that of Spenser as essentially and intensely not
of this world; the one is full of the spirit of sunshine and
the open air, the other of that of moonlight and torchlight.
Yet, spite of these great differences, is there any other
English poetry that is so like the Homeric as that of
Spenser ? any other through which an English reader,
properly warned in regard to the wide disagreement be¬
tween them in many respects, could get so near to a just
and lively conception of that of Homer ? We should say
there certainly is not.
“ One of Spenser’s inventions in the Fairy Queen is his
magnificent stanza, which may be said to be the last new
form of verse that has fairly established itself in the
language.”
There are in all some forty editions of Spenser’s works.
The most prominent of these are, an edition with a glos¬
sary and a life of the author, and an essay on allegorical
poetry, by John Hughes, London, 1715, 6 vols. 12mo.
The Fairy Queen, with an exact collation of the two
original editions, a life of the author by Dr Birch, and a
glossary, together with 32 plates from designs by Kent.
Lond., 1751, 3 vols. 4to. Another edition of this poem,
with notes critical and explanatory, was soon afterwards
published by Ralph Church, A.M., Lond., 1758, 4 vols.
8vo. And about the same time appeared a new edition,
with a glossary and notes explanatory and critical, by John
Upton, A.M., Lond., 1758, 2 vols. 4to. An elaborate and
complete edition of Spenser’s works was at length pub¬
lished by Todd, Lond., 1805, 8 vols. 8vo ; also, Dr Craik’s
Spenser and his Poetry, 3 vols., 1845, already referred to.
SPEUSIPPUS, an Athenian philosopher, and the
nephew and successor of Plato. He assumed the direction
of the Platonic school in 349 B.C. Contrary to the prac¬
tice of his master, Speusippus required from his pupils a
stated gratuity. He placed statues of the Graces in the
school which Plato had built. On account of his infirm
state of health, he was commonly carried to and from the
academy in a vehicle. On his way thither he one day met
Diogenes, and saluted him; the surly philosopher refused
508 S P E
Spey to return the salute, and told him that such a feeble wretch
II ought to be ashamed to live; Speusippus replied, that he
Sphinx. ]jve(j jjj hjg limbs, but in his mind. At length being^
^ v * ' wholly incapacitated, by a paralytic stroke, for the duties ot
the chair, he resigned it to Xenocrates. He is said to have
been of a violent temper, fond of pleasuie, and exceedingly
avaricious. Speusippus wrote many philosophical works,
which are now lost, but which Aristotle thought sufficiently
valuable to refute, and to purchase at the expense of three
talents. From a few fragments which remain of his philo¬
sophy, it appears that he adhered very strictly to the doc¬
trine's of his master. (See Speusippi de Primis Rerum
Principiis Placita, Ravaisson, 8vo, Paris, 1838.)
SPEY, a river of Scotland, rises in a small loch of the
same name, in Inverness-shire, between Lochs Laggan and
Lochy, and flows in a N.E. direction through the valley
called from it Strathspey. Its upper course is in the county
of Inverness; it then traverses that of Moray for a short
distance, and finally separates Moray from Banff. After a
course of about 96 miles it falls into the Moray Firth, a
little to the east of Lossiemouth. It receives many small
streams, but none of any size or importance. Though at
first it is a sluggish stream, in the lower part of its course
it is one of the most rapid in Scotland, and this renders it
difficult of navigation. Large quantities of timber, how¬
ever, are floated down the Spey. The river abounds in
salmon, and the fisheries in it are very valuable.
SPEZIA, a seaport-town of the Sardinian dominions, on
an inlet of the Gulf of Genoa, in the division and 50 miles
E.S.E. of Genoa. It has a fine situation, and is generally
well built, defended by a castle, and enclosed by walls.
There is here a spacious and handsome public square,
numerous churches, a town-hall, convent, hospital, and
schools. The Gulf of Spezia forms a very fine harbour ;
it is the same that was called by the ancients Portus Lunce.
Pop. 9796.
SPHERE is a solid, formed by the revolution of a semi¬
circle about its diameter.
SPHEROID, a solid approaching to the figure of a
sphere. It is generated by the entire revolution of a semi¬
ellipsis about its axis. When the revolution is made round
the largest axis, the spheroid is called prolate ; and when
round the shortest, oblate. This last is the figure of the
earth, and probably of all the planets.
SPHINX, in fabulous history, a monster which had the
head and breasts of a woman, the body of a dog, the tail of
a serpent, the wings of a bird, the paws of a lion, and
a human voice. This creature is variously represented in
Greek mythology. It sprang from the union of Orthos
with the Chimsera, or of Typhon with Echidna, or of
Typhon with the Chimsera. The Sphinx had been sent
into the neighbourhood of Thebes by Juno, who wished to
punish the family of Cadmus, which she persecuted with
immortal hatred ; and it laid this part of Boeotia under con¬
tinual alarms, by proposing enigmas, and devouring the in¬
habitants, if unable to explain them. In the midst of their
consternation, the Thebans were told by the oracle that the
sphinx would destroy herself as soon as one of the enigmas
which she proposed was explained. In this enigma she
wished to know what animal walked on four legs in the
morning, two at noon, and three in the evening. Creon,
king of Thebes, promised his crown and his sister. Jocasta
in marriage to him who could deliver his country from the
monster by a successful explanation of the enigma. It was
at last happily explained by CEdipus, who observed, that
man walked on his hands and feet when young, or in the
morning of life ; at the noon of life he walked erect; and,
in the evening of his days, he supported himself by leaning
on a staff. The sphinx no sooner heard this explanation
than she dashed her head against a rock, and immediately
expired. Some mythologists wish to unriddle the fabulous
S P I
traditions about the sphinx by the supposition, that one of Spihby
the daughters of Cadmus, or Laius, infested the country of ||
Thebes by her continual depredations, because she had Spmning.
been refused a part of her father’s possessions. The lion’s Vs*v^/
paw expressed, as they observe, her cruelty, the body of
the dog her lasciviousness, her enigmas the snares which
she laid for strangers and travellers, and her wings the
despatch which she used in her expeditions. The legend
of the sphinx is supposed to have been introduced from
Egypt or Ethiopia. Among the Egyptians the sphinx was
the symbol of religion, by reason of the obscurity of its
mysteries ; and on the same account the Romans placed a
sphinx in the pronaos or porch of their temples.
SPILSBY, a market-town of England, in the county
and 31 miles east of Lincoln. It consists of four streets,
diverging from a central market-place, in which stands an
octagonal cross. The principal buildings are a court-house,
raised on pillars, and the old parish church, which contains
many interesting monuments. There are also places of
worship for Independents and Methodists, a grammar-
school, two national schools, and various charitable institu¬
tions. Pop. 1461.
SPIN AGE, or Spinach. See Horticulture.
SPINAZZOLA, a town of the kingdom of Naples, in
the province and 23 miles W.S.W. of Bari, near the source
of the river Locone. It contains several churches, con¬
vents, an hospital, and an almshouse. Pop. 5300.
SPINET, or Spinnet (Ital., Spinetta), an old-fashioned
musical instrument, of which the brass and steel wires were
struck by quills fixed to the tongues of the jacks that were
moved by finger-keys. It was the predecessor of the harp¬
sichord and the pianoforte.
SPINNING is the art of forming continuous threads by
drawing out and twisting together filamentous materials.
This was at first a manual art, and was practised in the
earliest ages. The simple tool first made use of consisted of
a piece of wood, with its lower extremity of a conical form
like a boy’s top, and its upper portion long and tapering to
a point, to which the fibres to be spun were fixed; this was
termed a spindle, and in using was spun like a top to twist
the threads. To the spindle an addition was soon made of
the distaff, consisting of a piece of wood, round which the
material to be spun was lapped. The distaff was held in the
one hand of the spinner, while the other hand was engaged in
drawing the fibres from the mass, and ever and anon giving
fresh impetus to the motion of the spindle. This simple ap¬
paratus must have been early used, as among the sculp¬
tures of the early Egyptian tombs we find representations of
femalesformingthreadswith the spindle; and singular though
it be, the same apparatus may yet be found in a few places
in Scotland, affording, in its toilsome progress, a striking con¬
trast to the whirling wonders of the cotton-mill.
A great improvement in the use of the distaff and spindle,
by which the spinner’s hands were in a great measure left
free to regulate the formation of the thread, was made by
mounting the spindle in a frame, and using a larger wheel
to drive it by a belt; and this again was further improved
by using a treadle to effect the movement of the wheel by
the foot of the spinner. No attempt, however, to introduce
mechanism to supply the place of the skill and dexterity in
manipulation, which the spinner could acquire only by as¬
siduous practice, appears to have been made before the be¬
ginning of the eighteenth century. At that time there were
in common use two kinds of spinning implements. The one,
called the large wheel, was used in the spinning of wool and
cotton, consisting of a large wheel or rim mounted in a frame,
and having a belt to drive the spindle which projected from
the side of the frame, and had the material to be spun affix¬
ed to its end. In spinning, the operator, usually a female,
laid hold of the wool or cotton with the finger and thumb of
her left hand, at a few inches distant from the spindlej and
SPINNING.
509
Spinning, drew it towards her, while she turned the wheel with her
right hand ; she thus extended and twisted repeated por¬
tions, and as they were twisted, she, by guiding with her
hand the thread she had formed, allowed it to be wound upon
the spindle. Thus, from the carded cotton or wool, a loose
flabby thread or rove was formed, which was again sub¬
jected to a similar drawing or extension, and twisted until
reduced to a fine and compact thread. The other im¬
plement, called the small or Saxon tvheel, was a more per¬
fect apparatus, and was used for the spinning of flax; it
had on its spindle a bobbin, on which the thread was wound,
and a flyer revolving with greater rapidity than the bobbin,
to give the thread twist; a fixed distaff, on which the pre¬
pared flax was loosely rolled ; and a treadle by which a ro¬
tatory motion was given to the wheel by the foot of the
operator, whose hands were thus left at liberty to draw out
the fibres of the flax in the requisite number to form the
thread; in doing this, the fibres were, from time to time,
moistened with saliva, to make them more readily combine.
Such were the spinning implements used in Britain and
elsewhere, fit companions for the rude looms by which their
produce was woven into cloth. But improvements had be¬
gun to be made in the apparatus for weaving. The shuttle,
which had to be thrown by both hands alternately, and in
cloths above thirty-six inches wide, by two men, one at each
side, was in 1733 superseded by the fly-shuttle, the inven¬
tion of John Kay of Bury in Lancashire. By this improve¬
ment, the weaver could throw the shuttle from side to side
with his right hand; one man could weave the widest fabrics,
and could produce nearly twice as much work as by the old
method. The spinners could not now supply weft for the
weavers, and hence arose the necessity for some machine
that would increase the production of yarn.
In 1738, Lewis Paul, the son of a Dr Paul, and who had
been left in the guardianship of Lord Shaftesbury and his
brother, appears to have been the first who made an attempt
to substitute mechanism for the hands and skill of the spin¬
ner. To him is due the honour of discovering the principle
of roller-spinning, a principle, forty years afterwards, fully
developed by the genius of Arkwright. In that year Paul
obtained a patent for a machine “ for the spinning of wool
and cotton in a manner entirely new.” Paul had originally
some little property acquired by marriage, but while work¬
ing at his invention he appears to have fallen into poverty,
to have become involved in debt, and to have skulked about
under assumed names, to avoid his creditors. He had gone to
Birmingham to avail himself of the better skill of the work¬
men there in the construction of his machine, and had
borrowed money from Mr Warren, a bookseller, and Mr
Wyatt, one of those who worked at the construction of the
machine. He was unable to repay this money, but Warren
accepted as payment of his L.100, a license to erect fifty
spindles; and Wyatt agreed to take the machine which he
had helped to set up in payment of his claim of L.800. On
his return to London, Paul sold several machines. He con¬
fined his attention chiefly, however, to the sale of his
licences, in which he was so successful that he was soon en¬
abled to pay off his debts. He lived in comfortable circum¬
stances to the time of his death in 1759.
Although Wyatt does not appear to have set up any claim
to the invention of the machine which thus fell into his
hands, yet in the following account by his son, Mr Charles
Wyatt, the whole merit of the invention is claimed for him.
“In the year 1730, or thereabouts, living then at a vil¬
lage near Litchfield, our respected father first conceived the
project, and carried it into effect; and in the year 1733,
by a model of about two feet square, in a small building
near Sutton Coldfield, without a single witness to the per¬
formance, was spun the first thread of cotton ever pro¬
duced without the intervention of the human fingers, he,
the inventor, to use his own words, ‘ being all the time in a
pleasing, but trembling, suspense! The wool had been Spinning,
carded in the common way, and was passed between two
cylinders, from whence the bobbin drew it by means of
the tivist.
“ This successful experiment induced him to seek for a
pecuniary connexion equal to the views that the project ex¬
cited, and one appeared to present itself with a Mr Lewis
Paul, which terminated unhappily for the projector; for
Paul, a foreigner, poor and enterprising, made offers and
bargains which he never fulfilled, and contrived, in the year
1738, to have a patent taken out in his own name for some
additional apparatus, a copy of which I send you; and in
1741 , or 1742, a mill turned by two asses walking round an
axis was erected in Birmingham, and ten girls were employ¬
ed in attending the work. Two hanks of the cotton then
and there spun are now in my possession, accompanied with
the inventor’s testimony of the performance. Drawings of
the machinery were sent, or appear to have been sent, to
Mr Cave, for insertion in the Gentleman!s Magazine.
“ This establishment, unsupported by sufficient property,
languished a short time, and then expired; the supplies
were exhausted, and the inventor much injured by the ex¬
periment, but his confidence in the scheme was unimpaired.
The machinery was sold in 1743. A work upon a larger
scale, on a stream of water, was established at Northamp¬
ton, under the direction of Mr Yeoman, but with the pro¬
perty of Mr Cave. The work contained 250 spindles, and
employed fifty pair of hands.
“ The work at Northampton did not prosper. It passed,
I believe, into the possession of a Mr Yeo, a gentleman of
the law, in London, about the year 1764; and, from a strange
coincidence of circumstances, there is the highest proba¬
bility that the machinery got into the hands of a person
who, with the assistance of others, knowing how to apply
it with skill and judgment, and to supply what might be de¬
ficient, raised upon it, by a gradual accession of profit, an
immense establishment, and a princely fortune.”
Mr Robert Cole, F.S.A., is in possession of documents
which, notwithstanding this circumstantial account, clearly
prove Paul’s title to be considered sole inventor of roller¬
spinning. The principles of his invention are contained in
the following extract from the specification of his patent:—
“ The wool or cotton being thus prepared (by carding
into slivers), one end of the mass, rope, thread, or sliver, is
put betwixt a pair of rowlers, cillinders, or cones, or some
such movements, which being twined round by their motion,
draws in the raw mass of wool or cotton to be spun in pro¬
portion to the velocity given so such rowlers, cillinders, or
cones. As the prepared mass passes regularly through or be¬
twixt these rowlers, cillinders, or cones, a succession of other
rowlers, cillinders, or cones, moving proportionably faster
than the first, draw the rope, thread, or sliver, into any de¬
gree of fineness which may be required. Sometimes these
successive rowlers, cillinders, or cones (but not the first)
have another rotation besides that which diminishes the
thread, yarn, or worsted, viz., that they give it a small de¬
gree of twist betwixt each pair, by means of the thread
itself passing through the axis and centre of that rotation.
In some other cases only the first pair of rowlers, cillinders,
or cones, are used, and then the bobbyn, spole, or quill,
upon which the thread, yarn, or worsted is spun, is so con¬
trived as to draw faster than the first rowlers, cillinders, or
cones give, and in such proportion as the first mass, rope,
or sliver is proposed to be diminished.”
To appreciate rightly Paul’s invention, we must take into
consideration the state of the art at his day. No machine,
except the household wheels, already described, then ex¬
isted, and their useful effect depended on the skill and
dexterity of the spinner. Paul’s invention contained the
germ of a self-acting and self-regulating principle ; and the
means which he used were so unlike any operation perform-
510
S P I N N I N G.
Spinning, ed by the hands, that although unfortunately his success
V*—' was only partial, he is yet entitled to our admiration for the
originality of his genius. He did much for the art, if what he
did”prepared a foundation for Arkwright’s superstructure.
The next invention was one in which an effort was made
directly to imitate the action of the spinster, as exemplified
in the wool-wheel, in drawing away the roving of wool, un¬
til extended to the proper length, and, after having twisted
it, winding it on the cope or spindle. This was the “Jenny,”
the invention of which is claimed by Mr Guest for Thomiis
Highs, a reed-maker in Leigh near Bolton, but is more
generally accorded to James Hargreaves, a weaver, residing
at Stanhill village near Blackburn. These ingenious men
were doubtless independent inventors, working out their
ideas without the knowledge of each other’s proceedings,
and the difference in their respective machines countenances
this view. Mr Guest gives Hargreaves the name of the
improver of the jenny.
If we imagine many spindles to be set in motion by one
wheel, and the ends of the rovings connected with these to
be inserted between two pieces of wood, which, like the
jaws of a vice, would hold them firmly, and by which they
could all be drawn back at one time by the left hand of the
spinner, while with his right hand he could drive the wheel
which gives the spindles their motion, we shall have a good
idea of the first spinning-jenny, which was, indeed, no more
than this. In process of time, however, the machine was
rendered very different from the one first constructed. The
spindles were increased from eight (the number in Har¬
greaves’s original machine) to eighty, and upwards; the
clove or clasp by which the slivers or rovings were held was
improved in form, and mounted on a carriage, and made
to run on a railway in the framing, the effect of which was
more perfect equality of the thread, and a greater degree
of precision in the process. The yarn when spun was
built up in a conical form on the cope or spindle by a pro¬
per apparatus, and altogether the machine was very much
improved. Still, with all its improvements, it was only a
hand-wheel of many spindles. But as a hand-wheel it prob¬
ably effected more good than it would have done had it
been more complete. It still remained a domestic imple¬
ment of small cost, and its use rapidly extended. The
jenny was imperfect in so far that it could only be brought to
act upon rovings, which required to be formed on the hand¬
wheel already described. This defect was soon remedied
by the introduction of the stubbing billy, in which the parts
of the jenny were reversed, the place of the clove or clasp
being supplied by rollers, and the spindles being mounted
in a frame running on a railroad. The card rolls or slivers
were in this machine placed continuously on an inclined
plane, formed by a travelling canvass, which conducted them
up to the feeding-rollers, placed at its highest point; and on
passing through the feeding-rollers the slivers were attached
to the spindles, which, receding from the rollers, twisted
the slivers and formed rovings for the jenny. This machine
is still used for forming the rove in wool-spinning.
The problem of automatic spinning, however, remained
yet to be practically solved, and this solution was reserved
for the genius of another man in poor circumstances—
Bichard Arkwright.
The bad success of roller-spinning in the hands of M'yatt,
an ingenious man, and of those other speculators who
purchased either machines or licenses from Paul, would
have deterred most men from again attempting it; but
partial failure appears to have ever stimulated the persever¬
ing Arkwright to fresh exertion. He, a poor man, a barber
by trade, unaided, almost uneducated, and totally unac¬
quainted with mechanics, perfected a system of machine¬
spinning which ultimately raised the manufactures of his
country to a height unexampled, and obtained for him
honour and wealth.
Arkwright’s principle of roller-spinning need not here be Spinning
particularly described, as wre shall have occasion to illustrate v'—>
it more fully afterwards. It is only necessary generally to
observe, that in this mode of spinning the material is ex¬
tended to the requisite degree by rollers, and twisted and
wound up by a flyer and bobbin, as in the small flax-wheel,
the drawing, the twisting, and the winding up being simul¬
taneously carried on. Important as the invention of roller¬
spinning is, it is not on it alone that the fame of Ark¬
wright rests, but also on the power of mind displayed in
remodelling the habits of people accustomed to desultory
working, and, in short, in establishing the factory system.
The next great invention was also produced by a man
in humble circumstances—Samuel Crompton, a weaver at
Hall-in-the-Wood, near Bolton. This ingenious individual,
combining the drawing roller of Arkwright with the jenny
of Hargreaves, produced a beautiful, though somewhat com¬
plex machine, to which he gave the appropriate name of
the mule-jenny. In the mule-jenny the drawing rollers are
mounted in a stationary frame, and the twisting spindles in
a moveable carriage ; the rovings are passed through the
rollers and attached to the spindles; the rollers and spindles
are then made to revolve, and the carriage to recede from
the rollers, carrying away and twisting the attenuated rove.
When a sufficient quantity of rove has been given out, the
motion of the rollers is suddenly stopped, and that of the
spindles of the carriage increased to nearly double its for¬
mer velocity, the carriage itself still receding from the
rollers, but at about one-half its former speed; thus the
greatest extension only takes place as the rove receives
twist to enable it to bear it.
These machines were all the offspring of the cotton ma¬
nufacture ; but it may be well supposed that the principle
on which they act would soon be adopted in the spinning
of wool, flax, and silk. It is not here necessary to trace
the different steps through which, by slow degrees, the
parts of these machines were brought to suit the peculiari¬
ties of other manufactures. We shall, therefore, proceed
to the elucidation of the principles of spinning the various
textile materials by machinery, observing first, that, to fit
these materials for spinning, they are made to undergo
several preparatory processes ; the effect of which, when
well performed, is to separate the fibres, to unravel those
which are entangled, and, except in the case of flax, to
present the whole mass in a continuous sliver or ribbon of
an equal width and density throughout its whole extent.
On this sliver the operation of spinning is performed.
If we take hold of a portion of such a sliver with the
hands rather farther apart from each other than the ave¬
rage length of the fibres of which it is composed, we shall
find that, by the sliding of the fibres on each other, we can
extend it a little without breaking it. Suppose, then, that
we thus extend a few successive portions, and lay them to¬
gether, and combine them by slightly twisting them, so
that the tortion shall generate a certain compression among
the co-fibres, we shall now find that we are able to extend
the mass considerably farther without breaking, and so by
continued drawing and twisting we may attenuate the sli¬
ver until it become a fine thread. There are two circum¬
stances which limit its extensibility. The first is that state
of it when many of the fibres which compose it end together
at the same place, and which it is one of the objects of
carding, and the purpose of some of the after-processes, to
prevent. The second is when the friction produced by the
twisting becomes so great that the fibres will sooner break
than slide on each other.
The operations, then, to be performed by the spinning
machinery are—to extend the mass of sliver as it comes
from the preparatory machines, by repeated operations, or
drawings, as they are termed, into a narrower and nar¬
rower ribbon ; to twist this ribbon into a loose thread or
SPINNING.
511
d
Spinning- rove, to enable it to bear greater extension ; and further,
to extend this rove to the last degree of attenuation re¬
quired, twisting it, at the same time, so hard, that, when
the operation is finished, and the thread perfectly formed,
the fibres will sooner break through than separate, by slid¬
ing on each other. All these operations are, however, more
or less mixed up with each other in practice. Thus, the
carding-engines, besides disentangling the fibres, draw the
broad sheet of loose filaments into a narrower and more
compact sliver ; the drawing-frames extend this into a still
narrower ribbon ; in the roving-frames the drawing still
proceeds, and by an additional apparatus the sliver is twisted ;
and this drawing and twisting are carried on together in the
spinning-frame and in the mule-jenny until the completion
of the thread.
The manner in which the drawing is effected may be
conveniently represented by a
figure. Let a a in the figure
represent a pair of rollers, which
are called retaining-rollers; let
these revolve in the direction of
the arrows with a given velocity, and receive between them
the sliver hd; they will thus impart to it the rate of mo¬
tion of their own surfaces ; let cc be another pair of rollers,
which are called drawing-rollers, revolving with twice the
speed of a a, and receiving between them the sliver. Im¬
parting to it now their own motion, they will cause it to
move forward twice as fast as it is yielded by a a, which it
can only do by the fibres sliding asunder. If, therefore, a
given length of sliver be passed through the roller, it will
be drawn out to twice its original length, and its sectional
area will be but half of what it was. The drawing-rollers
have here been supposed to move twice as fast as the re¬
taining-rollers ; but their relative speed may be in other
proportions. Thus the drawing-rollers may move three,
four, or five times faster than the other pair, and extend the
sliver to three, four, or five times its original length. This
difference of speed is termed the draught of the machine,
and a machine is said to have a draught of two, three, four,
five, or six, as the speed of the surface of the drawing-
rollers is so many times greater than that of the retaining-
rollers. It is obvious that, to effect the lengthening of the
sliver, the distance between the drawing and retaining-rol¬
lers must be somewhat greater than the average length of
the fibres which compose the sliver. For were the distance
less than this, the consequence would be disruption of the
fibres themselves, from both rollers having hold of the
opposite ends of the same fibres at the same time. But the
distance may be too great, which would tend to make the
fibres separate entirely at the middle point between the
rollers, or at least to make the greatest attenuation take
place there.
It is obvious, too, that the amount of extension which a
single sliver can endure must be small, from the danger of
the ends of many fibres occurring at the same place.
Hence there exists a necessity for laying many slivers of
the first drawing together for the second drawing, and
many of these again for the third drawing. This laying
together of the drawings, which is termed doubling, pos¬
sesses the advantage of ensuring greater equality in the
thread, from the inequalities of the separate drawings con-
temperating each other. The oftener this doubling is re¬
peated, the more compact and equal,, or'/eve/, the thread
will be, and the more capable of enduring attenuation from
the interspersion of the endings of the fibres.
As an example, in figures, of the effect of the drawing
and doubling processes, suppose the velocity of the drawing-
rollers to that of the retaining-rollers, or, in other words,
the draught of the machine to be as 5 to 1, let the length
of the sliver, before drawing, be 1, and its density 1; after
the drawing we shall have the length increased to 5, and
the density diminished to *2. Suppose a doubling consist¬
ing of 8 of those new drawings to be put through the rol¬
lers, we shall have a new sliver formed, length 25, density
•32; and the result of the doubling being repeated four
Spinning.
times, the ratios
being the same, that is in fig
8
ures, »•
x
8 _ 4096
5 ~ 625
= 6*5, will be a length of 625, and a
density 6’5 ; that is to say, there will be 6'5 times as many
fibres in the same space as there were originally, and the
length will be increased to 625, this length of 625 being
made up of 4096 separate slivers, or ends, as they are
termed.
Such is the process of drawing without twist, in its sim¬
plest form, and as it is applied to cotton, wool, and silk
waste. In flax-spinning the nature of the material renders
a more complicated apparatus necessary. Each fibre of
flax, on minute examination, will be found to be made up
of a number of smaller parallel filaments bound together.
The separation of these bundled filaments is partially
effected by the hackling process ; but it is evident, that the
thread is not capable of its greatest degree of attenuation
until the total separation of the filaments be completed.
For this reason, a hackle, which shall separate the filaments,
is an essential part of the drawing apparatus for flax ; and,
in the repeated doublings of the slivers, a succession of
machines is used, in which the hackles are gradually finer.
From the length of the fibres of the flax, the rollers re¬
quire to be at a considerable distance from each other,
and the hackles are placed in the interval between them.
They are fixed to an endless chain, working over rollers,
and their points are made to move through the sliver,
with a speed a little greater than that of the retaining-
rollers. They thus have a double action. Entering the
sliver immediately on its emission from the retaining-
rollers, and moving faster than it does, they split down the
bundles of the fibres, and allow the sliver to be extended
by the rollers. As they proceed onwards, the action of
the drawing-rollers makes the extending sliver move many
times faster than the hackles, and, by this means, straightens
and lays parallel those fibres which may happen to be doubled,
or to lie obliquely in the sliver. This ingenious apparatus
is called the Gill, from the name of its inventor.
The process which succeeds these repeated drawings,
whether made by the simple rollers or by the gill, is twist¬
ing the sliver into a rove. For this purpose, an addition
of a bobbin and flyer is made to the drawing machine.
The bobbin is made to revolve with such speed as to wind
up the rove as fast as it is yielded by the last pair of
rollers, and the flyer with so much additional speed as to
give to the sliver the desired twist while moving between
the roller and the bobbin. As the diameter of the bobbin
is continually increasing by the accumulation of the rove,
and as the speed of the rollers remains constant, it is neces¬
sary to vary the speed of the bobbin, so that, as it increases
in diameter, it may diminish in speed, and wind up the
rove at the same rate throughout. The mechanism for
effecting this is, in some machines, very complicated.
The next operation is forming the thread from the rove.
For this there are two kinds of machines used—one, the
throstle, which is a simplification of Arkwright’s spinning-
frame, and consists of a set of drawing-rollers, with bobbins
and flyers, as in the roving frame ; the other is that com¬
bination of the drawing-rollers with the jenny which is
termed the mule. In the roving and throstle frames the
twisting apparatus is stationary, and merely twists, and
the twisting succeeds the drawing. In the mule the twist¬
ing apparatus recedes from the rollers faster than they yield
the sliver, and consequently has a drawing as well as a
twisting power. In the throstle, the rove being pulled by
512 S P I
Spinola. the bobbin through the flyer, is, while yet tender, subjected
to a continual strain. In the mule the rove is only sub¬
jected to strain, as it receives twist enough to enable it to
"bear the strain without injury. The mule, too, by the
peculiarity of its mode of action, destroys those inequali¬
ties of the rove which result from defects in the drawing,
or injury sustained in the roving. To understand how it
does so, it is necessary to observe, that, when a thread of
unequal thickness is twisted, the fibres which compose the
thick parts, forming larger and more oblique spirals than
those which compose the small parts of the thread, require
a greater force to twist them, and consequently remain
soft, while the small parts become comparatively hard
twisted. If a considerable length of such a thread were
pulled, the fibres of the thick parts would slide upon each
other; while those of the smaller parts, being mutually
compressed, by their greater degree of torsion, would resist
the drawing asunder. The drawing would thus take place
only in the thick parts; and as they diminished in size, the
twist would gradually become equally diffused. The mule,
acting in this manner, with a drawing and twisting power,
upon a considerable length of unequally sized, and conse¬
quently unequally twisted rove, reduces its inequalities, and
renders it level and uniformly twisted throughout.
Arkwright’s first machine was called the water-twist
frame, from having originally been driven by water-power.
It consisted of a pair of retaining-rollers and a pair of
drawing-rollers, such as those we have used for the sake of
illustration, which effected the extension of the sliver.
From the drawing-rollers the sliver passed to another pair
of rollers, called the delivering-rollers, which, moving with
the same velocity as the drawing-rollers, had no extending
power, but merely compressed the sliver and delivered it
to the twisting apparatus. This consisted of the bobbin
and flyer of the Saxon or flax wheel, improved in respect
of the flyer being rendered automatic in spreading the
thread on the bobbin ; and this automatic action was shortly
afterwards, with good effect, transferred from Arkwright’s
machine to the hand-wheel by a Mr Antis. Each system
of rollers and twisting apparatus in Arkwright’s machine
was separate, and was driven by a separate system of gear¬
ing, and pulleys and bands, rendering the machine, when
of great extent, exceedingly complicated. One of the
greatest improvements of modern days is the simplification
of the moving parts, by making each roller continuous
along the whole length of the machine, and using only one
set of driving apparatus at the one or other extremity, and
by making the shaft for driving the twisting machinery
also continuous.
We have seen that the parts of the machine which per
form the operations of drawing and twisting, viz., the rollers,
and the bobbin and flyer apparatus, are very simple. The
complexity arises, therefore, from the number of parts
required to communicate motion to these parts, and to
regulate their movements ; and the arbitrary nature of the
form and arrangements of the parts for communicating
motion, causes the great differences which exist in the
various spinning machines. In a brief sketch like the pre¬
sent, it is obviously impossible to notice the many beautiful
arrangements which, from time to time, have been intro¬
duced ; and we must refer the reader to the articles Cotton,
Flax, Rope making, Silk, Wool, &c., for detailed infor¬
mation as to the peculiar modifications in spinning ma¬
chinery, rendered necessary by the quality of the article
operated upon. (j. N.)
SPINOLA, Ambrosio, Marquis de, one of the greatest
generals of his time, was born at Genoa in 1569. His
family had originally come from Spinola, a small town in
the north of Italy; and one of his ancestors, on coming to
y.: Genoa, had amassed a considerable fortune by mercan¬
tile speculations. His brother Frederic, who had entered
. S P I
the naval service of Spain, and had attained the rank of Spinoza
admiral in a year or two, came to Genoa, and induced
Ambrosio, then a quiet citizen, to undertake the command
of the land forces, while he should scour the sea with his
ships. Ambrosio left Milan in May 1602, and by steady
discipline and regular pay, avoided the disorder and mu¬
tiny which prevailed among the majority of the Spanish
troops. Entering the low countries under Mendoza, he
was defeated at the siege of Grave, which he had gone to
relieve, by the renowned general, Prince Maurice, on the
20th September 1602. Shortly after Spinola was ap¬
pointed general-in-chief of the forces of Spain, and he
gained great distinction by the taking of Ostend from the
Dutch, which the Spaniards had besieged for three years
and two months. Having repaired to Madrid, he was
received by King Philip III. with every mark of distinc¬
tion, and was appointed commander-in-chief of all the
Spanish and Italian forces in the Netherlands. In an
interview with Henry IV. of France, to which he was
admitted on his way to resume his command in the Nether¬
lands, that monarch took the opportunity of inquiring at
the Spanish commander his plans for the ensuing cam¬
paign. Spinola caught his drift, and detailed them lite¬
rally as he intended to execute them. The cunning
monarch taking it for granted that Spinola’s intentions were
directly the opposite of what he had narrated to him, wrote
off forthwith to Prince Maurice the very contrary of what
he had been told. “ Others,” said Henry IV. afterwards,
“ have deceived me by falsehood, but Spinola by speaking
the truth.” An armistice was shortly afterwards proposed
by the Court of Madrid, and Spinola and Maurice were at
peace for twelve years. Spain again renewed her claims
upon Holland in 1621, on occasion of the disputed succes¬
sion to the Duchy of Cleves. This roused again the old
foes, Spinola and Maurice, but Spinola had the good for¬
tune to have all the luck on his side. Juliers was taken,
and Breda was besieged by the Spaniards. The Prince of
Nassau (Maurice) died of a fever caught in the low marshes
which surround the town of Breda. Spinola’s health was
likewise shaken, and after the opening of the gates of
Breda, he retired from the command of the Spanish forces.
He died in 1630, it is said of vexation and disappointment
at having his pecuniary claims disregarded by the court of
Spain.
SPINOZA, Benedict de, the greatest pantheist the world
has yet seen, was the son of a Jewish merchant of Portugal,
who had migrated into Holland some time before the date of
the philosopher’s birth, which occurred at Amsterdam on the
24th November 1632, the same year in which John Locke
was born. For the Hebrew name Baruch, which he received
at his baptism, he afterwards substituted the Latin equiva¬
lent Benedictus. His family, which was poor, committed
his education to the hands of the rabbis, and his instructors
discovered very early what a treasure they had received in
Baruch Spinoza. His mind was exceedingly quick and
penetrating; he read and re-read the sacred Scriptures,
which were prescribed to him for study, and used to per¬
plex the chief rabbin, Moses Morteira, with the frequency
of his puzzling questions, which no one had deigned to put
since the days of the oldest patriarch. With the same in¬
dustry and intelligence he perused the Talmud, and with
a similar result. The rabbis shook their heads gravely,
and knew not how it might turn out. Their pupil was so
earnest and simple, so honest and truthful, in all his in¬
quiries, that they were quite at their wits-end what to make
of him. Had he been an immoral boy, they could readily
have found a convenient source for his interrogatories in
the father of lies. But the lad’s goodness rendered such
a supposition absurd. The quiet and decided manner in
which he went about the tasks assigned to him by the
rabbis, and the unconscious daring which he had manifested
S P I N 0 Z A.
513
Spinoza, in bis inquiries into the Holy Scriptures and the Talmud,
required of his instructors a larger measure of intelligence
than they had been blessed with, and a greater degree of
patient watchfulness than they had ever been accustomed
to employ. His friends now induced him to commence
the study of the Latin language, and he accordingly re¬
ceived his first lessons from a German doctor. This last
act presented a fresh source of alarm to the minds of the
faithful rabbis. They tax all their vigilance, and by the
aid of two young spies, try to entrap their gentle pupil.
Spinoza is now in danger, for the frantic rage of a Dutch
mob is no slight matter. On investigation it is found that
he has had the audacity occasionally to absent himself from
the Jewish synagogue. It further appears that he cannot
be brought to make a promise of greater regularity even at
the expense of bribery. One thousand florins, a large sum
for a Jew, have been privately tendered to him to acknow¬
ledge the authority of these bearded prophets, but Spinoza,
who, in the depths of his confused wanderings, has dis¬
covered some gleams of honesty flickering through the dim
vaults of his own soul, replies with great calmness and deci¬
sion that he is not a hypocrite. “ Not,” says he, “ if the
pension were tenfold.” The engines of the ancient faith
are now summoned, and Baruch Spinoza is excommuni¬
cated from the fellowship of the faithful, by the dark and
horrible appliances known only to the Jewish Church.
Spinoza is told of what has happened at the synagogue.
His answer he concludes in these words: “ I know no
better than they what is to become of me, but I have taken
nothing which is not mine, and I have done no one any
wrong, whatever I may suffer.” Father and mother and
sisters (for Spinoza had two of them, who were subsequently
distinguished by all the grovelling avarice of their race)
are now positively forbidden his society, and the quiet lad
must seek his occupation and companionship wheresoever
he may. Still eager for knowledge, he attached himself to
a learned physician, Francis Van den Ende, who was re¬
ported not to be so strict as his neighbours in matters of
religion, and who kept a school for the better class of
young Dutchmen, or others who chose to avail themselves
of his instructions. In this school Spinoza became a tutor
in mathematics and modern languages, and received in
return a knowledge of the Latin language, and some say
also of the Greek. His tutor in Latin was the clever
daughter of his superior, who, in spite of a tendency to
corpulency and other personal defects, gained quite a hold
on the affections of the excommunicated Jew. The honest
usher would have married the girl, had not a more attrac¬
tive object to female vanity been found in a certain Herr
Kerkering, a rich young merchant from Hamburg, who had
likewise taken lessons from the same teacher. The pearl
necklaces, and other finery adapted to the female taste, had
their due effect, and the blushing Van den Ende, though
greatly against her will, was induced to follow to the altar
the gay merchant of Hamburg, and to leave Spinoza to
heal the wound his heart had received as besf he might.
The young philosopher took his jilting as quietly as became
one of his profession, and applied himself with increased
assiduity to his physical and metaphysical studies.
But Spinoza had not yet done with the Jews. Passing
by the old Jewish synagogue one night, he received the
thrust of a dagger, which just grazed his'side, and which
was aimed at him by a fanatic of the religion he had just
renounced. The cunning rabbis now resolved secretly to
destroy the school where he had lately found an asylum.
They circulated rumours of the atheism of the superior,
and Van den Ende was banished out of Holland. This
unfortunate man afterwards sealed his patriotism with his
life at Paris in 1674.
Meanwhile Spinoza had to provide for his necessities as
he could, and he took to the fashioning of glass lenses,
which he came to grind with singular accuracy. With the
exception of some time spent in learning the rudiments of
drawing, he devoted his whole life to his lenses; that is to
say, all the time which he found it necessary to expend
upon labour for which he could fairly expect remuneration.
As for the rest of his time, what one might misname his
leisure hours, he devoted exclusively to speculation. Truth
was the loadstar to which he constantly turned, and pro¬
vided people would only let him alone, he was content to
pursue undisturbed his scientific researches, careless alike
of what is called fame, or of the noisy reputation which the
crowd bestows upon the objects of its admiration. Spinoza
was not an ascetic. He dressed himself plainly and neatly ;
but affected no gaieties such as did not become his posi¬
tion. His fare was exceedingly simple, formed for the
most part of alternations of gruel and mutton broth. His
health, certainly, was not robust, and hence, there was an
additional reason for the simplicity of his fare. The only
luxury he indulged in was a pipe of tobacco. He was of
middle stature, of a pleasant countenance, with piercing
eyes, a slightly dusky skin and black hair; a good specimen,
in short, of a Spanish Jew. Thus did this outcast Hebrew
live and work, always gentle and good-humoured, with a
kind word and a kind smile for every one.
Spinoza dwelt for some time in 1660 with a familiar ac¬
quaintance, who lived between Amsterdam and Auwerkerke.
In 1661 he withdrew to the village of Rhynsburg, where he
remained for the next four years. It was during his resi¬
dence here that his friends prevailed upon him to give to the
world his first publication, Cartesii Principia Philosophiae
more geometrico demonstrata, and added, by way of appen¬
dix, Cogitata Metaphysica. This work appeared in 1663,
with a preface from Louis Meyer, a physician of Amsterdam,
who was kind enough to introduce this shy youth to the
public. Spinoza had brought a more logical intellect to the
study of |his subject than its great author could pretend to,
and hence his representation of Descartes’ philosophy was
the clearest and the most concise in existence. This small
treatise by the obscure Jew flew over all Europe, and
speculators, great and small, were anxious to make his
acquaintance. The most notable of the correspondents of
this year which have been preserved were Henry Olden¬
burg, Simon de Vries, and Louis Meyer. In 1664, he
accepted an invitation from Jan de Witt, the greatest
statesman in Holland, to go to the Hague. He subse¬
quently received from this courtier a pension of L.35 a
year. Accordingly, in the month of June we find him
removed to Voorburg, some miles from the Hague, which
he exchanged, for greater convenience, for a boarding¬
house, kept by a widow. Van Velden, who lived on the
quay. It was in this house that honest old Pastor Colerus,
some time before 1698, hired the room once occupied by
the philosopher, as bed-room, eating-room, and study, and
from which this Protestant clergyman strove to realize to
himself something of the man who had once lived and
worked there. It was during his residence here he pub¬
lished his Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, 1670. The
whole of Christendom almost rose in arms against Spinoza,
but this did not disturb the philosopher, nor does it seem
to have troubled his cogitations. Curious to say, some of
the most eminent divines of the present day have held
principles exactly similar to those promulgated in this
Tractatus ; but three centuries do much to clear the human
vision. Finding this place too expensive (for he must now
save time for his books), Spinoza, in 1671, crossed the street
to the house of a painter named Van der Spyck, where he
spent the remainder of his life. Good, fussy old Colerus
gives many a pleasant picture of Spinoza’s residence in this
household, which cannot here be dwelt upon. Suffice it to
say, that the philosopher lost nothing of his honesty and
simplicity of character. Sometimes, when wearied with
3 x
Spinoza.
514
SPINOZA.
Spinoza. his meditations, he would draw the children of the family
around him, and amuse them by showing them insects in
the microscope. He betrayed an interest in all manner of
creatures, and a spider-fight would make him laugh immo¬
derately. He usually joined the family in hearing the
preaching of Dr Cordes, a good Protestant pastor, and
when the day was over, the great philosopher would per¬
mit the children of Van der Spyck to scramble all over
him. Getting them adjusted he would tell them pleasant
stories, and breath over them an atmosphere of gentle
solemnity. He would speak to them of their Father in
heaven, and one day, he tells them, if they be good chil¬
dren, they may go there to him. And admonishing them
to love their earthly parents, and to be kind to one another,
he lets his young charge go for the night. This does not
look like irreligion, let Pierre Bayle and others croak as
they please about atheism.
The year of his removal to Voorburg was the date of his
letters to William de Blyenburg, a clever, vain sort of man,
who tried, by a rather fulsome letter, to induce Spinoza to
write to him. The correspondence soon broke off, how¬
ever, as Spinoza saw it would be fruitless. The year 1672
was a gloomy one for Spinoza, and for the state of Hol¬
land. He lost his best friend, the statesman, Jan de Witt,
who was murdered by a frantic mob in the prison of
the Hague. This was the only occasion on which the phi¬
losopher is said to have displayed violent emotion. He
wept like a child, and is said ever afterwards to have avoided
the recollection of the scene. Simon de Vries, a wealthy
young student of Amsterdam, had for some time been a
correspondent of Spinoza’s on his darling subject. Coming
to the Hague one day, De Vries called on Spinoza, and
would have him accept a present of 2000 florins. He had
to go sorrowfully away, however, for his simple master had
' no relish for florins. Shortly after the poor youth died.
Spinoza hearing he had been mentioned in his will, hastened
to the spot, and could only be prevailed upon by the brother
of the deceased to accept of 300 florins. In 1673 Dr Fa-
britius wrote to Spinoza from the University of Heidelberg,
by the Elector Palatine’s orders, inviting him to remove
thither, and fill the chair of philosophy, cum amplissimd
•philosophandi libertate. This would not have been an un¬
pleasant invitation to Spinoza, now that his pension and his
friend were gone; but as one of the conditions was the
elector’s hope that the philosopher would contrive to avoid
collision with existing beliefs, Spinoza did not see clearly
“ within what limits his philosophy could be restrained,”
and so he modestly declined. Still the same directness and
unconsciousness ; still the old simplicity of genius. A pro¬
fessor, he said in addition, was an exalted person, and he
had lived all his life as a poor workman ; so he resolved to
stay with Van der Spyck.
The Ethica was now finished, which had cost Spinoza
ten of the best years of his life. But when a man does a
thing really well, no questions are asked as to the time he
expended on it. Spinoza tried to publish this work in the
city of Amsterdam, but the troubled state of the theological
atmosphere withheld him. The remaining years of his life
were employed on a political treatise on the theory of
human society, which he did not live to finish; a Hebrew
Grammar, also unfinished ; and a translation of the Penta¬
teuch, which he destroyed a day or two before his death.
Leibnitz had heard of his matchless skill in constructing
optical glasses, and he wrote Spinoza one or two letters re¬
garding it, which may be seen, with the optician’s answer,
in Epistolce 51, 52 of his Opera. Spinoza, as has been
* already mentioned, was a man of very delicate health, and
so assiduously had he kept at his duties that he was fre¬
quently not seen for many days at a time. A strong frame
would have bent under such constant application to the
most abstruse studies, and Spinoza had to pay the penalty
of his devotion to truth by being prematurely removed from Spinoza,
the working world. He had given symptoms of consump-
tion at a very early period, and that insatiable vampire gra¬
dually sucked out his life-blood. Here is Colerus’s account
of his last hours, leaving Bayle’s and the rest of them for
those who have a relish for such things. On the 21st of
February 1677, being the communion Sabbath with the
Hague Protestants, the Van der Spyck family were at
church. Spinoza, who had been a good deal worse than
usual, sent the day previously for Louis Meyer, the physi¬
cian of Amsterdam. With this friend he had talked about
the publication of his Ethica, and other matters relating to
his effects when he was gone, when the summons came
upon him quite suddenly. Van der Spyck returned from
church to gaze upon the glassy eyes of what, a short while
before, had been his dear friend Benedict Spinoza. He
died at the comparatively early age of forty-four years.
There were published after the death of Spinoza, in 1677,
his Ethica Ordine Geometrico Demonstrata et in quinque
partes distincta; his Tractatus de Intellectus Emenda-
tione ; his Tractatus Politicos; his Epistolce ; and his Com¬
pendium Grammatices Linguce Uebrcece. The edition used
in preparing this article is the Benedicti de Spinoza Opera
quce supersunt omnia, by C. H. Bruder, 3 vols., Leipsic,
1843.
Numerous biographies, of more or less merit, have been
written of Spinoza, of which we may mention the one pub¬
lished at Utrecht, in 1698, by the Lutheran pastor, Johann
Colerus, as, with all its faults, unquestionably the best. This
book was published in French, at the Hague in 1706.
There was issued from the Brussels press, in 1731, Refu¬
tation des Erreurs de Benoit de Spinoza, par M. de
Fenelon, archeveque de Cambray, par P. Lamy, et par
M. le Comte de Boullainvilliers, avec la Vie de Spinoza,
ecrite par M. Jean Colerus, augmented by a number of
particulars drawn from a manuscript of the philosopher’s
life, made by one of his friends. There is likewise the
unfortunate life, or rather caricature, of Spinoza in Bayle’s
Dictionnaire, Amsterdam, 1740. Francis Halma published
at Utrecht, in 1698, Het Leven Van Ben. de Spinoza,
with some notice of his writings. There is likewise La Vie
de Spinoza par un de ses Disciples, Amsterdam, 1719; and
another Vie, by another of his disciples, Hamburg, 1735;
and a Leben B. Von Spinoza, by J. M. Philipson, Braun-
schw., 1790. He is taken up besides in the collections of
N. Barnabite, of Kortholt, and of Saverien. Biographies
of Spinoza have likewise been written by the various editors
of his works. Among the more recent are Paulus, Gfrorer,
Auerbach, Orelli, Bruder, Saintes, and Damiron. Notices
of his life have likewise appeared in English in the Oxford
and Cambridge Review for 1847, and in the Westminster
Review for 1843. These articles have been attributed re¬
spectively to Froude the historian, and to Lewes, author
of the Life of Goethe. Some fifty authors, of all shades
of ability, have written against Spinoza in Latin, Dutch,
German, French, and English.
For an analysis of the Ethica, and for a critical estimate of
its principles, the reader is referred to the article Pantheism.
We shall close this biography with a remark or two
on the method and spirit of Spinoza’s great work. The
Ethica is logically considered the most perfect book in ex¬
istence ; psychologically, it is one of the most fallacious.
Any one who chooses to employ a method of rigorous de¬
duction upon which to construct the universe, must hail the
Ethica as the paragon of all books that have ever emanated
from the human brain. But the man who, while very
anxious to get his knowledge into a strictly deducible order,
finds, nevertheless, at every step of his preliminary inqui¬
ries, that his attention is constantly deflected into the mul¬
titudinous and conflicting channel of details that surrounds
him, must imperiously feel the utter futility of all logical
S P I
S P I
515
Spinosa. attempts at harmonising the sum of knowledge. He at once
^ feels that he must content himself with a much more im¬
perfect comprehension than is held out to him in books like
the Ethica, that are built up upon the sole principle of
order and subordination. All honour to formal logic
when employed about its legitimate work, that of ana¬
lysis and orderly arrangement; but there is perhaps no
single faculty of the human mind whose proper function has
been so much misunderstood, and so frequently misapplied,
both in ancient and modern times. It is really astonishing
how many facts of the living world escape one who is per¬
petually engaged on grinding out of his logical machine the
orderly sounds that enliven his fancy or please his taste.
The great world-hymn is by much too grand and solemn a
thing to be beaten out by patient industry from a paltry
music-box of man’s construction. No ear ever hears a full
diapason of that great world-instrument whose strings
stretch to and fro through all time, and are smitten by in¬
visible fingers into the loftiest and deepest music, tremu¬
lously shaking the hearts of poets into song, falling in dewy
silence on the hearts of thoughtful men, impelling them on
in the race of glorious discovery. It is only in fragments
that we catch in any case the music of the spheres, and it
certainly is never by “ discourse of reason” that airy ladder
is erected on which the angels of God ascend and descend
to the homes of men “ on errands of supernal grace.” It is
only by a rift in the splendid garment in which the universe
is enshrined, that one catches the fading glory of a sum¬
mer’s day ; it is only a glimpse into the distant regal spirit-
world which one exiled on this barren promontory receives,
when he rises to the height of the exalted belief that there,
the just has died for the unjust, and men are brought near
unto God. But neither in the case of the perfectly beautiful,
nor in that of the absolutely good, has logic, or any of its
laws, aught to do with the matter; and to the being who is
caged in behind the iron bars of ratiocination, on all beyond
the narrow circle by which he is enclosed, no light shines,
and the voice of man is not heard at all. Our hearts are
closed by it to tender pity, our ears are shut by it to divine
music, and by it we must judge that there is nothing really
beautiful in all the world. Spinoza, in pursuing this deduc¬
tive method as never man has yet pursued it, has left to the
world an invaluable legacy of a quite negative kind. The
value of his Ethica lies entirely in this, that he has deter¬
mined, once and for all, what the human mind can accom¬
plish in the cn priori region in which he chose to move. He
has left a memorial to all future thinkers of what the discur¬
sive reason, by its sole unaided power, can achieve. This
merit is Spinoza’s by right, that he has put together a book
that may fairly challenge the world to produce its equal in
strict ratiocinative rigour; but the higher question, of
whether he has taken an accurate account of the varied, the
ever-changing and even contradictory elements of man’s life,
is what he cannot answer in the affirmative, and which for
ever must stand in his way when claiming our approval of
what he has so elaborately designed. Spinoza, and all men
both before and since his day, who have absolutely adopted
his method, must be content with being designated by the
name of Pantheist.
No one but the morbidly sentimental can complain of this
as harsh treatment of this illustrious thinker. All men who
choose to labour in the high field of science are usually
known by the complexion of their thoughts, or by the matter
to which those thoughts are applied. Designations have been
invented, of more or less accuracy, to mark off those workers
from their fellow-labourers in the same field, and we have
done no more than assign to Spinoza, as has been often done
before, the place and the title by which he may be known.
The character of Spinoza is naturally one of the most
devout on record, for his life was, in a manner, one unbroken
hymn. He was not a pious man, as that word is ,now
usually understood, for he was not a Christian, at least in
profession. He had much conversation with the sect of the
Mennonites, but it does not appear that he ever subscribed
to their faith. Some of the greatest minds which the world
has known have owned his superiority, and have loudly
proclaimed his fame. Among these not the least illustrious
are Novalis, Schleiermacher, Lessing, and Goethe. All
these men have bowed down before their intellectual supe¬
rior in the sphere of reasoning, and have looked up wor-
shipfully to Spinoza, as to their human master, in much that
pertained to the nature and the character of Deity. Novalis
calls him a “god-intoxicated man,” and Schleiermacher
calls upon all thinkers to offer up with him “ a lock of hair
to the manes of the holy but persecuted Spinoza.” The
thought of these men, all gifted more or less with the high¬
est forms of genius, and widely different in all that can con¬
stitute character, finding a common bond of brotherhood in
the speculations of this obscure Jew, is suggestive of much
curious thought. There is one thing which must have
struck the more patient readers of the Ethica, and which is
likely, more or less, to have been the source of attraction,
whether consciously or unconsciously, to all the higher
minds who have felt themselves drawn towards the book.
It is the deep religious1 feeling with which it is written.
One cannot term it ethical, the word is much too cold to
express the thought. The book is in a manner saturated
with religiousness. Not that it is so observable in the par¬
ticular language of any portion of it. It lurks in the hidden
depths, from which both thought and language flowed. It
floods over, as it were, all the dry propositional details in
which the book abounds. It permeates them. It flows
round them, over them, beneath them, and through them,
with its mysterious motion, covering all that it touches
with a kind of sacredness. It is this, much more than the
matter of which the book is constituted, which has gained
for it so wide a sympathy among all the finer minds who
have been brought into contact with it. But it is precisely
on this account that the book is calculated not to benefit
clever readers, who are not constitutionally thoughtful, who
do not see the open secret of this world. It is because the
dry skeleton holds so well together, that readers of a certain
type are almost sure to wrench it from the deep basis of
feeling on which it naturally rests, and drag it out vaunt-
ingly before the world. To such persons the work is like
the sphinx of old, it devours those who cannot solve its
mysteries. It is perhaps as much what men, drawn to the
Ethica, think into it, that constitutes its main excellence to
them, as what they are capable of extracting from its stub¬
born propositions. (j* D—S.)
SPIRES (Germ. Speyer), a town of Bavaria, capital of
the Palatinate, on the left bank of the Rhine, at its con¬
fluence with the Speyerbach, 10 miles S.S.W. of Man-
heim. It is entered by five gates, and surrounded by walls,
which enclose a large extent of ground, formerly covered
with buildings, but now either entirely vacant or occupied
only with gardens. The most remarkable edifice is the
cathedral, which is one of the largest structures existing in
the Romanesque style of architecture. The east end, which
has two high pointed towers and a semicircular termination,
is part of the original building founded by the Emperor
Conrad in 1027. The rest of the building is all later than
1165; and a great part of it has been built since 1689,
when it was partially destroyed by the French. Since
1816, when Spires came into the possession of Bavaria,
much has been done to repair and restore the cathedral,
Spires.
1 It is hardly necessary to observe, that religion is here emploj'ed in its purely natural signification, as expressive of that attitude of
mind and heart in which one has permanently before his contemplation the things that pertain to a higher state of existence.
-
516 S P I
Spitalfields and in 1856 the three western towers were rebuilt. In the
II kings-choir, between the nave and choir of this church, is
Spitzber- thelmrial-place of many of the German emperors. Of the
v j house of Hohenstaufen, Conrad II., Henry III., IV., and
V., and Philip, were interred here; also Rudolph of Haps-
burg, Adolph of Nassau, and Albert I., the son of Rudolph.
These graves were broken into, and their contents scattered
by the French in 1689; but the bones were collected again
by order of Charles VI., and monuments have been erected
to Adolph of Nassau by his descendant the duke William,
and to Rudolph by King Louis of Bavaria. The interior
of the cathedral is also decorated with frescoes by German
artists, some of which are the finest modern works in the
country. In a hall of antiquities, to the north-east of the ca¬
thedral, are preserved many interesting Roman and mediaeval
remains found in the Palatinate. Of the old Ritscher, or
imperial palace, only a single round wall is now preserved.
It was in this building that the Diet was held in 1529, at
which the Reformed princes gave in the Protest, from
whence they obtained the name of Protestants. Spires
contains, besides the cathedral, numerous Roman Catholic
and Protestant churches, schools, hospitals, public offices,
&c. Wax-candles and tobacco are manufactured here, and
some trade is carried on. Spires is built on the site of the
ancient Noviomagus; and it is one of the most ancient, as
it long was one of the chief cities of Germany. At first it
was a Roman military station, as a defence against the
assaults of the Allemanni, afterwards it was strongly forti¬
fied ; and, from the time of Charlemagne onwards, it was
for a long time the ordinary residence of the emperors of
Germany, and the seat of the Diet. During this period its
population amounted to 27,000, and its trade was very ex¬
tensive ; but in the seventeenth century it began to decline,
and in 1689 was laid in ruins by the French. For many
years it lay in ruins, and even when rebuilt it never re¬
covered its former prosperity. A second time it was de¬
stroyed by the French in 1794; and it was not till after
1816 that it was restored. Pop. 9500.
SPITALFIELDS, a port of London, in the county of
Middlesex, immediately to the N.E. of the city. It is in¬
cluded in the borough of Tower Hamlets, and covers an
area of 53 acres, with a population of 15,336. It is chiefly
occupied by silk-weavers ; and is celebrated for its silk
manufactures, which were first established here by French
refugees after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. (See
London.)
SPITHEAD. See Portsmouth.
SPITZBERGEN, a group of islands in the Arctic
Ocean, lying between N. Lat. 76. 30. and 80. 40., E. Long.
9. and 22., separated from the coast of Greenland on the
west by the Greenland Sea, and from Nova Zembla on the
east by the Sea of Spitzbergen. There are four large, and
a great number of smaller islands. Spitzbergen proper, the
largest of the group, is of a very irregular shape. It con¬
sists of two parts, West Spitzbergen and New Fresland, or
East Spitzbergen, which are connected only by a narrow
isthmus. South of the latter of these parts lies Edges
Island, separated from the other by Tymens Fiord, a strait
about 50 miles long and 10 broad. To the east of New
Fresland, and separated from it by Henloopen or Waygatz
Strait, is North-East Land ; and about 12 miles to the west
of Spitzbergen proper lies the long and narrow Charles’
Island. A long narrow inlet, called Weide Jans Water,
extends into the very heart of the group, separating West
Spitzbergen, first from Edges Island, and then from East
Spitzbergen, and washing, at its northern extremity, the
isthmus that joins the two parts of the main island. The
other side of this isthmus is formed by Weide Bay, an inlet
running in from the N.E. The other islands of the group
}re very insignificant; most of them skirt the shores of the
larger ones at a short distance. The Thousand Isles to the
S P o
south of Edges Island, and the Seven Islands to the north Spohr.
of North-East Land, are the principal groups. The entire ^
area of the islands is estimated at 29,460 square miles.
The west coast of the largest island is irregular, bein°-
penetrated by many small bays and creeks; and it is
skirted by lofty mountains, which in some places come
quite down to the edge of the sea. The mountains rise to
the height of 3000 or 4000 feet; and the valleys between
them are either covered with snow, or else, where they are
narrow, entirely occupied with glaciers, which in many '
places reach down to the sea, and form a perpendicular
wall of ice several hundred feet in height. South Cape, or
Point Lookout, the most southerly headland in Spitzbergen,
is a low promontory; but immediately behind it the moun¬
tain-chain begins to rise. The greater part of Charles
Island is occupied with steep mountains, some of whose
peaks attain the height of 4500 feet. The northern shores
of the group are not so lofty and rugged as the western.
In some places the ground is comparatively level, and not
totally destitute of vegetation. The eastern coast of North-
East Land is lined almost throughout with glaciers. Of
the interior of the islands very little is known. The cli¬
mate is intensely cold; the mean temperature of the three
warmest months on the west coast is not three degrees above
the freezing point. For four months the sun never rises
above the horizon ; and were it not for the brilliancy of the
aurora borealis, and the light of the moon when full, the
land would be enveloped in total darkness. The vegeta¬
tion of the islands is very scanty and stunted, as there are
not more than forty species of plants found here ; but the
most of them are very rapid in their growth, springing
up, flowering, and bearing seed all within a month or six
weeks. 1 he country does not afford sustenance for a single
human being; and yet, not only is Spitzbergen frequently
visited by whalers, but there have been at several times
colonies residing for a length of time on the islands, and
one Russian gentleman spent there fifteen years without
once leaving the country. Reindeer, polar foxes, and polar
bears, are the animals found in Spitzbergen. Whales, wal¬
ruses, seals, &c., abound in the surrounding sea; and there
are large numbers of sea-fowl of different kinds. Spitz¬
bergen was discovered by Barentz, a Dutch navigator, in
1596; though the English afterwards asserted it to have
been the land seen by Sir Hugh Willoughby in his unfor¬
tunate expedition in 1553. The latter, however, was prob¬
ably noj: Spitzbergen, but part of Nova Zembla. The
country^derived its name from the sharp peaks of its moun¬
tains. In the seventeenth century the settlement of Smeer-
enburg, on the north coast of Spitzbergen, was founded by
the Dutch ; and this was for a long time a flourishing
whaling station. At a later period, Russian adventurers
were in the habit of spending a part of the year in hunting
and fishing here.
SPOHR, Ludwig, one of the greatest violinists of the
German school, and also a distinguished composer, was,
according to his own authority, born at Brunswick, on the
5th of April 1784, and not at Seesen in 1783, as has been
stated by several writers. His father, a physician, and a
skilful amateur flute-player, had the good sense to allow bis
son every means of cultivating that talent for music mani¬
fested in his early boyhood. One writer has asserted that
Spohr “ showed no early talent for musicbut that seems
not only highly improbable, but it is contradicted by the
testimony of German and other authors. The violin is an
instrument peculiarly requiring a true and delicate musical
organization for the attainment of excellence in its handling.
Placed under Maucourt, a violinist at the court of the Duke
of Brunswick, the boy Spohr made such progress as to be
able, when only twelve years old, to play at court a violin
concerto of his own composition. At thirteen he was ap¬
pointed one of the musicians of the duke’s chapel. At
S P 0
Spohr. sixteen he became a pupil of the celebrated violinist, Franz
Eck, with whom he visited St Petersburg and Moscow,
remaining in Russia for eighteen months. After his return
to Brunswick he made a musical tour through Saxony and
Prussia, and, with the consent of his patron, the Duke of
Brunswick, accepted the office of music-director at the
court of Saxe-Gotha. Soon afterwards he married Doro¬
thea Schindler, one of the best harpists in Germany, and
went with her to Vienna, where he was appointed music-
director of the theatre An der Wien, an office which he
held for several years. He composed for that theatre his
Faust, his Jessonda, his Zemire und Azor, and some other
operatic works, besides writing several stringed-quartets,
&c. In 1817 he visited Italy, and was heard with great
applause in the chief towms. Returning from Italy he went
to Frankfort-on-the-Maine, to take the place of music-
director of the theatre there. In 1819 he visited Paris,
where his violin-playing wras but coldly received. He went to
London in 1820, by invitation of the Philharmonic Society,
and performed some of his compositions at the concerts of
that society, where also two symphonies and an overture
of his were produced. He was much praised by some of
the London critics for his purity of tone and high finish,
although others found fault with his want of energy and
animation. In 1823 he was appointed chapel-master at
the court of Hesse-Cassel, which office he resigned in
November 1857. In England three of his oratorios were
performed and enthusiastically received, especially his Last
Judgment, but their popularity did not endure. Most of
his instrumental music has met with the same treatment in
Great Britain ; although many of his compositions for the
violin are still, and must always be, highly esteemed. Spohr
was a great master of the violin, and composed much ex¬
cellent music for his instrument, in his own peculiar style.
He is recorded as one of the best quartet-leaders in Europe,
as he always endeavoured to render justice to the author’s
music, making no inopportune display of his own powers of
execution. He was the founder of a new German violin-
school, and some of his pupils are now the best violinists in
Germany. His method of teaching the violin is shown in
his Violinschule, a large folio volume, published at Vienna
in 1831. It is an excellent work, and should be studied by
every aspiring violinist. As a composer of vocal music, Spohr
can hold no high place. For voices he writes too instru-
mentally; and yet it is said of him that his style of violin¬
playing was really vocal—that “ he sang upon his instru¬
ment!” Many years ago, and in the height of the furore
regarding Spohr’s music in England, we had occasion to
publish our opinion of his style of composition. While
considering him, in some respects as a great artist, we ob¬
jected to his want of broad and decided melody, and to his
perpetual and wearisome use of chromatic intervals in his
modulations and harmonies, which gave a character of
vagueness and affectation to his compositions. There is a
dandyism in musical composition, as well as in bodily dress
and bearing. We never thought him a good melodist, nor
a solid contrapuntist; and our opinion seems now to be
gaining ground in England. Few eminent composers have
more widely mistaken the true powers of their art, as well
as their own powers, than Spohr. Attempts to express
physical or moral phenomena by means of rgusic must, in
the nature of things, be always unsuccessful, except in a
very limited degree. (See Music, § Imitative Music.)
Can any thing more absurd be conceived than an attempt,
ln music, to describe silence by means of sound? It ap¬
pears that Spohr was twice married, his first wife, Dorothea
Schindler, having died on the 20th of November 1834.
At Cassel, he retired from professional life in November
185/. He was indefatigable in composing, notwithstand¬
ing his various avocations as a violinist, director, chapel-
master, and teacher. A very tall, stalwart, handsome man,
s p o sir.
his manners appear to have been far from attractive. In Spoils
society he was discourteous, self-sufficient, and overbearing. ||
He affected to know nothing about the works of great con- Spoleto.
temporary composers, seeming to consider himself as all in
all. If not beloved for modesty and affability, he was
through life respected for honest and independent conduct.
Dr Ludwig Spohr died at Cassel on the 22d of October
1859. Dr Spohr’s chief compositions are—three oratorios,
viz., Die Letzten Dinge; Des Heilands letzte Stunden;
and Das Jungste Gericht, besides a scenic oratorio, Das
befreite Deutschland. A Mass for two choirs and five voices
unaccompanied ; three Psalms for two choirs of four voices
each ; Vater Unser, for four voices ; Hymn for four choirs,
four solo voices, and grand orchestra. Seven dramatic
operas—viz., Der Ziveikampf der Geliebten ; Der Berg-
geist; Faust; Jessonda ; Zemire und Azor; Peter von
Albano ; Der Alchymist. Songs for four male voices;
Scene and air (Italian words), with orchestra; Songs for a
voice and piano, seven sets. Six grand Symphonies ; four
Overtures; Nonetto, for nine stringed and wind instru¬
ments ; Ottetto, for five stringed and three wind instru¬
ments ; three Double Quartets, for four violins, two altos,
and two violoncellos; four stringed Quintets ; fourteen
sets of stringed Quartets ; five sets of violin Duets; two
concerted Symphonies for two violins ; thirteen violin Con¬
certos ; two clarinet Concertos ; four Pot-pourris for violin
and orchestra; Quintet for piano, flute, clarinet, horn, and
bassoon; Sonatas, Rondeauxs, and Fantaisies. Spohr’s
Autobiography is at present (April 1860) passing through
the press in Germany. (g. f. g.)
SPOILS, whatever is taken from the enemy in time of
war. Among the ancient Greeks, the spoils were divided
among the whole army, only the general’s share was the
largest; but among the Romans the spoils belonged to the
republic.
SPOLETO, a delegation of the Papal States, bounded
on the N. by those of Perugia and Camerino, E. by that of
Ascoli and the kingdom of Naples, S. by the delegation of
Rieti, and W. by that of Viterbo; area, 1130 square miles.
The eastern part of the country is occupied by the central
chain of the Apennines, including the two loftiest peaks
within the Papal dominions; Monte della Sibilla (7300 feet),
and Monte Vittore (8130 feet). Various branches of this
main ridge extend towards the west, and the delegation is
thus, as a whole, mountainous. The greater part of the
country is watered by affluents of the Tiber; but a small
portion, east of the water-sheds of the Apennines, sends its
waters into the Alriatic by the Tronto. On the west, the
Maroggia flows northwards and joins the Topino, an affluent
of the Tiber; and the Nera, a little to the east of the
former river, flows southwards and falls into the Tiber.
Between these two rivers rises a ridge called the Moun¬
tains of Somma. The valley of the Maroggia is the most
fertile part of the whole country; it produces in abundance
maize, wheat, pulse, wine, oil, and various fruits. The
forests afford much valuable timber. Large numbers of
cattle are reared, and much cheese is made. Among the
minerals of the country are limestone, marble, gypsum, and
potter’s clay. Hardly any manufactures or trade are car¬
ried on here. Pop. (1853) 134,939.
Spoleto, the capital of fthe above delegation, on the side
of a steep hill above the Maroggia, 61 miles N.N.E. of Rome.
It consists of narrow, crooked streets, lined with houses,
not very well built. In a commanding position stands the
cathedral, an edifice erected in the time of the Lombard
dukes of Spoleto, and still retaining some traces of its ori¬
ginal Gothic architecture in five pointed arches, which are
now supported by Grecian pillars, introduced by Bramante.
In the interior are many interesting monuments and works
of art. There are in the town several other churches, a
citadel, originally built b} Theodoric, king of the Goths,
1
*
* 518
S P O
S P K
Spondee a town-hall, and a fine palace, belonging to the Ancajani
II family. Spoleto is the seat of a bishop, and has a college,
Spots wood. manufactories of hats and woollen cloth, and some trade in
corn wine, and oil. It occupies the site of the ancient
Spoletium, which does not seem to have existed before the
Romans established a colony here in 240 b.c. In the
second Punic War, after the battle of Lake Trasimenus,
Hannibal made an assault on the town, but was repulsed
with vigour, and the colony remained faithful to the Roman
cause throughout the whole of the war. While the West¬
ern Empire continued, Spoletium remained a large and
flourishing town. It was partly destroyed by the Goths;
but under the Lombards it became the capital of a duchy,
which continued to exist independently till the 12th cen¬
tury. There are some interesting Roman remains at Spo¬
leto. Pop. 8500.
SPONDEE. See Foot.
SPONGES. See Zoophytes, § Polypes.
SPORADES, the ancient name of a group of islands in
the dSgean Sea, which were so called because they were
irregularly scattered, in opposition to the Cyclades, which
lay in a circle round Delos. Their names, as enumerated
by Strabo, are—Pholegandros, Sicinos, los, Thera, Thera-
sia, Anaphe, Lagusa, Amorgos, Astypalsea, Icaria, the Co-
rassiae, Patmos, Leria, Lebinthos, the Calydnae, Nisyros,
Telos, Chalcia, and Casos. Pliny gives a much longer
list of the Sporades, and some geographers include this
group among that of the Cyclades. The most important
of the islands are described under their several names.
SPOTS WOOD, or Spotiswood, John, Archbishop of
St Andrews, was descended from the lairds of Spotswood
in the county of Berwick, and was born in the year 1565,
being the son of John Spotswood, minister of Calder, and
one of the superintendents. He was educated in the Uni¬
versity of Glasgow, and succeeded his father in the par¬
sonage of Calder when but 18 years of age. In 1601 he
attended Lodowick Duke of Lennox as his chaplain, in an
embassy to the court of France for confirming the ancient
amity between the two nations, and returned in the am¬
bassador’s retinue through England. When he entered
upon the archbishopric of Glasgow, he found there was not
L.100 sterling of yearly revenue left; yet such was his
care for his successors that he greatly improved it, much
to the satisfaction of his diocese. After having filled this
see eleven years, he was raised to that ot St Andrews in
1615, and thus became primate and metropolitan of all
Scotland. Fie presided in several assemblies for bringing
the Church of Scotland to some degree of uniformity with
that of England. He continued in high esteem with King
James VI., nor was he less valued by King Charles L, who
was crowned by him in 1633, in the abbey-church of Holy-
rood House. In 1635, upon the death of the Earl of Kin-
noul, chancellor of Scotland, the primate was advanced to
that post; but he had scarcely held it four years, when the
confusions beginning in Scotland, he wTas obliged to retire
into England; and being wasted with age, grief, and sick¬
ness, died at London on the 26th December 1639, and was
interred in Westminster Abbey. The only work which he
is known to have published bears the title of Refutatio Li-
belli de Regimine Ecclesice Scoticance, Lond., 1620, 8vo.
This was an answer to a tract of Calderwood, who replied
in the Vindicice subjoined to his Altare Damascenum. A
more considerable work was published several years after his
death—The History of the Church and State of Scotland,
beginning the year of our Lord 203, and continued to the end
of the reign of James VI. of ever blessed memory, Lond.,
1655, fol. An Appendix was afterwards added by Thomas
Middleton. The character of Spotswood is thus delineated
by Laing:—“ In prosperity his behaviour was without mo¬
deration, in adversity without dignity; but the character of a
leading, aspiring prelate has either been unduly extolled, or
unjustly degraded. As a scholar and a historian he excelled Sprat
his cotemporaries; and it was his peculiar felicity that his ||
erudition was neither infected with the pedantry nor con- Sprenge]
fined to the polemical disputes of the age. His abilities
recommended him first to preferment; but his ambitious
views were chiefly promoted by the supple, insinuative
habits of craft and intrigue. His revenge was formidable
to the nobility and officers of state, oppressive to the clergy,
and, joined with an inordinate ambition, ultimately ruinous
to his own order.”—Laing’s History of Scotland, vol. hi.,
p. 154.
SPRAT, Thomas, Bishop of Rochester, was born in
1636 at Tallaton in Devonshire. He received his educa¬
tion at Oxford, and after the Restoration entered into holy
orders. In 1659 he published two indifferent poems, on
the Death of O. Cromwell, and on the Plague of Athens.
He became fellow of the Royal Society, chaplain to George
Duke of Buckingham, and chaplain in ordinary to King
Charles II. In 1677 he published the History of the
Royal Society, and a Life of Cowley, who, by his last will,
left to his care his printed works and MSS., which were
accordingly published by him. In 1668 he was installed
prebendary of Westminster; in 1680, he was appointed
canon of Windsor; in 1683, dean of Westminster; and in
1684, consecrated to the bishopric of Rochester. He was
clerk of the closet to King James II., and in 1685 was
made dean of the chapel-royal; and the year following
was appointed one of the commissioners for ecclesiastical
affairs. In 1692 his lordship, with several other persons,
wras charged with treason by two men, who drew up an
association, in which they whose names were inscribed de¬
clared their resolution to restore King James, to seize the
Princess of Orange, dead or alive, and to be ready with
30,000 men to meet King James when he should land.
To this they put the names of Sancroft, Sprat, Marl¬
borough, Salisbury, and others. The bishop was arrested,
and kept at a messenger’s, under a strict guard, for eleven
days. His house was searched, and his papers seized,
among which nothing was found of treasonable appear¬
ance, except one memorandum, in the following words:
“ Thorough-paced doctrine.” Being asked at his exami¬
nation the meaning of the words, he said, that about
twenty years before, curiosity had led him to hear Daniel
Burgess preach; and that being struck with his account
of a certain kind of doctrine, which he said 4< entered
at one ear, and pacing through the head went out at the
other,” he had inserted the memoranda in his table-book,
that he might not lose the substance of so strange a ser¬
mon. His innocence being proved, he was set at liberty,
when he published an account of his examination and deli¬
verance, which made such an impression upon him that
he commemorated it through life by a yearly day of
thanksgiving. He lived till the 77th year of his age, and
died May 20, 1713. His other works are—An Answer to
Sorbiere; The History of the Rye-House Plot; The Rela¬
tion of his own Examination ; and a volume of Sermons.
The following favourable estimate of Sprat’s abilities by
the late Lord Macaulay deserves to be recorded. I homas
Sprat “ was a man to whose talents posterity has scarcely
done justice. Unhappily for his fame, it has been usual
to print his verses in collections of the British poets; and
those who judge of him by his verses must consider him as
a servile imitator, who, without one spark of Cowley’s ad¬
mirable genius, mimicked whatever was least commendable
in Cowley’s manner; but those who are acquainted with
Sprat’s prose writings will form a very different estimate of
his powers. Fie was indeed a very great master of our
language, and possessed at once the eloquence of the ora¬
tor, of the controversialist, and of the historian.” (Hist'
of England, vol. ii., p. 95, 1858.)
SPRENGEL, Kukt, a learned botanist of Germany,
S P R
Jpring- was born on the 3d of August 1766, at Boldekow, in Po-
field. merania. His father, who was a clergyman, superintended
liis early education, and succeeded in laying a broad and
solid foundation of scholarship, on which Sprengel in after
years reared so much. In addition to the ordinary classical
authors, he united a knowledge of Hebrew and Arabic, and
had already begun the study of botany, as his small work,
Anleitung Zur Botanik fur Fraue?izimmer, 1780, still tes¬
tifies. He began his studies in theology and medicine in
Halle in 1784, and took his medical degree there three
years afterwards. In 1789 he was appointed extraordinary
professor of medicine in Halle; in 1795 he was advanced
to be ordinary professor in the same department; and two
years subsequently was made professor of botany. Since
he began his studies at Halle he had published his Beitrdge
zur Geschichte des Pulses, 1787; Galens Fieberlehre, 1788 ;
Apologie des Hippokrates, 1789; Versuch einer pragmat.
Gesch. derArzneikun.de, 1792-99; and his Handbuch der
Pathologie, 1795-97. The celebrity of these works brought
Sprengel into notice, and he got numerous calls to fill va¬
rious important chairs, both in and out of Germany. All
such invitations he respectfully declined, and continued a
close resident in his Alma Mater to the end of his life.
Learned societies vied with each other in bestowing hon¬
ours on the learned botanist of Halle. Upwards of seventy
academies, learned and otherwise, presented him with their
honorary diplomas. Kings also conferred on him their royal
badges of distinction. Sprengel’s head was not turned by
such amazing success; he continued industriously to ply
his favourite studies, by which he ultimately became one of
the most learned men in Germany.
The record of Sprengel’s works is the story of his life.
He published his Antiquitates Botanicce in 1798, which
was followed by his Geschichte der Medicin, 1820, which
had been begun in 1792. His Historia Rei Herbarice,
1807; his Instituiiones Aledicce, 1809-16; his Flora 11 al-
ensis, 1806; and his Von deni Bau und der Natur der
Gewdchse 1811, form the most important of his works.
Sprengel died of grief for the loss of his son, who had been
professor of surgery at Greifwald, on the 15th of March
1833.
SPRINGFIELD, a town of the United States of North
America, in Massachusetts, on the left bank of the Con¬
necticut, 98 miles W. by S. of Boston, and 138 N.N.E.
from New York. It occupies a fine situation, on a flat
tract near the river and a rising ground beyond, and is for
the most part well built of brick. The streets extend
either parallel to the river, or at right angles to it, and in
the centre of the town is an open space, containing fine
trees and public walks. There are 12 or 13 churches, be¬
longing to different sects, many schools, and two news¬
paper offices. Springfield contains the largest arsenal in
the United States. It is in an elevated position, built of
brick, and covers about 20 acres. There are about 20
"ater-vvheels and 30 forges in connection'with it; from
250 to 300 hands are employed; and about 15,000 mus¬
kets are annually manufactured. About 175,000 stand of
arms are kept continually in store at this arsenal. Spring-
held has also manufactories of paper, iron, locomotives, and
various kinds of machinery. The size and prosperity of
the town are rapidly increasing. Pop. (1850) 11,766.
Springfield, the capital of the state of Illinois, one of
the United States of North America, in the midst of wide,
rich prairies, 96 miles N.N.E. of St Louis. It is regularly
laid out, with a public square, and several wide, handsome
streets. The chief buildings are the state-house, court¬
house, banks, churches, academies, &c. The town was
founded in 1822, and had in 1853 about 6500 inhabitants.
Springfield, a town of the United States of North
merica, in Ohio, stands in a fertile and well-cultivated
district, 84 miles N.N.E. of Cincinnati. It contains nu-
s P U 519
merous churches, schools, public libraries, and newspaper Springs
offices. Cotton and woollen cloth, paper, and machinery, ||
are manufactured in the vicinity. Pop. (1850) 5108. Spurzheim.
SPRINGS. See Physical Geography, § 197, &c.
SPROF FAN, a town of the Prussian monarchy, pro¬
vince of Silesia, and government and 37 miles N.W. of
Liegnitz, at the confluence of the Bober and the Sprottan.
It is walled and entered by three gates, and it contains
several Protestant and Roman Catholic churches, a court
of law, public offices, an hospital, &c. Cotton cloth and
hosiery are made here. Pop. 5049.
SPURZHEIM, Johann Caspar, the pupil and col¬
league of Dr Gall in the elucidation of the structure and
functions of the brain, was born near Treves, on the 31st
of December 1776. His father, who cultivated a farm in
that district, at first intended him for the church ; but, after
prosecuting his studies with this view, a change of purpose
took place, and young Spurzheim went in 1799 to acquire
a medical education at Vienna, where he soon became ac¬
quainted with Dr Gall. The views of that physician con¬
cerning the brain proved so interesting to him that, after
bestowing attention upon them for several years, he at
length, in 1804, became the associate of his master. In
the following year, when Gall was forced by the Austrian
government to leave Vienna (See Gall, F. j.), Spurzheim
accompanied him in his travels through Germany, France,
and Denmark. In 1807 they settled in Paris, and next
year presented to the Institute a memoir of their anatomi¬
cal discoveries. A committee, of which Cuvier was the
leading member, was appointed to give an opinion of it:
a translation of their unfavourable and, as the phrenologists
say, uncandid report, will be found in the Edinburgh
Medical and Surgical Journal for January 1809. This
report being unsatisfactory to Gall and Spurzheim, they
published their memoir, and a defence of it, under the
title of Recherches sur le Systeme Nerveux en general, et
sur celui du Cerveau en particulier, 4to, 1809. In 1810
was commenced the publication of the Anatomie et Physi-
ologie du Systeme Nerveux en general, et du Cerveau en
particulier, par F. J. Gall et G. Spurzheim, 4to, a work
which was not completed till 1819. The third and fourth
volumes were published after Spurzheim’s separation from
Gall in 1813, and bear the name of the latter alone. It is
illustrated by a magnificent folio atlas, containing 100
plates. The physiological portion of this work was after¬
wards reprinted in 6 vols. 8vo, by Dr Gall, with his own
name only, under the title, Sur les Fonctions du Cerveau.
Having left Dr Gall, Spurzheim, after taking his degree
of doctor of physic at Vienna, came over to Britain in 1814,
for the purpose of diffusing the new doctrines about the
brain. His first step was the publication of The Physiog¬
nomical System of Drs Gall and Spurzheim, 8vo, London,
1815 ; followed by Outlines of the Physiognomical System,
12mo, 1815, and Observations on the Deranged Manifes¬
tations of Mind, or Insanity, 8vo, 1817. The anatomical
and physiological views expounded in the first of these
works having been violently assailed by the late Dr John
Gordon in the 25th volume of the Edinburgh Review,
Spurzheim suddenly made his appearance in the northern
metropolis, and in the lecture-room of his opponent demon¬
strated by dissection the accuracy of his anatomical asser¬
tions. To the hostile article referred to he also replied at
considerable length in his Examination of the Objections
made in Britain against the Doctrines of Gall and
Spurzheim, 8vo, Edinb., 1817. After lecturing in London,
Dublin, Edinburgh, and other towns in the United King¬
dom, he returned in 1817 to Paris, where he continued to
lecture and publish till 1825. The works which he pro¬
duced during this period are Observations sur la Folie, ou
sur les Derangemens des Fonctions Morales et Intellect
tuelles de VHomme, 8vo, 1818; Observations sur la Phr6~
520 S P U
Spnrzheim. nologie, ou la Connaissance de VHomme Morale et Intel-
^ lectuel, fondee sur les Fonctions du Systeme Nerveux, 8vo,
1818; and Essai Philosophique sur la Nature Morale et
Intellectuelle de VHomme, 8vo, 1820. His English work,
entitled, View of the Elementary Principles of Education,
founded on the Study of the Nature of Man, 12mo, ap¬
peared at Edinburgh in 1821, and was reprinted, with con¬
siderable additions, in 8vo, at London, in 1828. A French
edition was published at Paris in 1822. A prohibition in
1824, by the French government, of the delivery of lec-
tures9without its special permission, obliged Spurzheim to
confine himself to private conversations in his own house,
and induced him in the following year to revisit Britain.
While residing in London, where he gave several courses
of lectures and dissections of the brain, he produced his
Phrenology, or the Doctrine of the Mind and of the Rela¬
tions between its Manifestations and the body, and A View
of the Philosophical Principles of Phrenology, both 8vo,
1825: these are extended editions of some of the chapters
of the Physiognomical System. He returned to Paris,
but again visiting England in 1826, lectured to overflowing
audiences in the London Institution, and in the same year
published Phrenology in Connection with the Study of
Physiognomy, 8vo, with 34 plates; also, The Anatomy of
the Brain, with a General View of the Nervous System,
8vo, with 11 plates. Towards the end of this year, he lec¬
tured at Cambridge, and, after expounding his views in
Bath and Bristol, delivered, in April 1827, a course of lec¬
tures to seven hundred auditors in the London Institution.
His Outlines of Phrenology were published in the same
year, at the close of which he visited Hull, whence he once
more proceeded to Edinburgh, delivering in that city two
courses of popular lectures, besides a professional course
on the anatomy, physiology, and pathology of the brain.
From Edinburgh he proceeded to Glasgow, and afterwards
to London, where he had now fixed his residence. In
1828 appeared his Sketch of the Natural Laws of Man,
12mo, and on 14th May 1829 a paper of his on the brain
was read before the Royal Society, into whose Transac¬
tions, however, it was refused admittance. It was pub¬
lished by Dr Spurzheim as an appendix to his Anatomy of
the Brain, along with some pretty free Remarks on Mr
Charles Bell’s Animadversions on Phrenology. He this
year lectured in many English towns, and in the following
spring accepted of an invitation to Dublin, where he was
created an honorary member of the Royal Irish Academy.
After again lecturing there in 1831, he fixed his residence
in Paris, and published in 1832 a small Manuel de Phre-
nologie, which is the last of his works. For the twofold
purpose of diffusing phrenology and studying the Ameiican
character and institutions, he sailed for the United States
on 20th June 1832. Unfortunately, the climate proved
detrimental to his constitution, which was injured still moie
by over-exertion and incautious exposure while lecturing
at Boston ; the consequence was a fever, which terminated
in his death on the 10th of November 1832. His remains
were honoured at Boston with a public funeral, at which
an oration was delivered by Dr Follen, Professor of
German in Harvard University.
As a phrenologist, Dr Spurzheim is generally regarded
by his British disciples as having improved the philosophi¬
cal aspect of phrenology, by classifying the facts better than
Dr Gall, and also by pursuing them farther into their phi¬
losophical, moral, and practical results. At the same time,
it appears to be the opinion of many that ne sometimes
proceeded to systematise prematurely, and that in his
latter years he occasionally modified his views rather
through caprice than from reason, or from the accumulation
of new observations. It is justly objected to his writings,
in comparison with those of Gall, that, in announcing his
discoveries, he details neither the circumstances in which
S Q U
they w£re made, nor the cases by which they are supported.
There has been much controversy on the relative merits of
these two physicians, in extending the boundaries of phre¬
nology and elucidating the anatomy of the brain. On this
subject, the curious reader may consult the Phrenologi¬
cal Journal, ii. 185, vi. 307, and xi. 225; the preface
to Spurzheim’s Anatomy of the Brain; the Memoir by
Carmichael, 1833; and the Foreign Quarterly Review,
volume ii. (R- C—X.)
SQUARING, or Quadrature of the Circle, signi¬
fies the finding a square exactly equal to the area of a given
circle. This problem, however, has not been, and prob¬
ably cannot be, strictly resolved by the commonly ad¬
mitted principles of geometry, mathematicians having hith¬
erto been unable to do more than to find a square that
shall differ from the area of any proposed circle by as small
a quantity as they please. The problem is of the same
degree of difficulty, and indeed may be regarded as identi¬
cal with another geometrical problem, namely, the rectifi¬
cation of the circle, or the finding a straight line equal to
its circumference, for the area of a circle is equal to that of
a rectangle contained by the radius and a straight line
equal to half the circumference ; therefore, if a straight line
exactly equal to the circumference could be found, a recti¬
lineal space precisely equal to the area might also be found,
and the contrary. But although no perfectly accurate re¬
solution of the problem has been obtained under either
form, we can always find approximate values of the area
and circumference, and it is now customary to apply the
terms quadrature and rectification of the circle also to
these. <
The problem of the quadrature of the circle appears to
have engaged the attention of geometers at a very early
period, for we are told that Anaxagoras, who lived about
five hundred years before Christ, attempted its solution
while confined in prison on account of his philosophical
opinions. We are ignorant of the result of his researches;
but, although we cannot suppose they were attended with
any success, we may reasonably conclude that we are in¬
debted to them for the discovery of some of the properties
of the figure, which are now known as elementary proposi¬
tions in geometry.
Hippocrates of Chios was likewise engaged in trying to
resolve the same problem, and it was no doubt in the course
of his inquiries into this subject, that he discovered the
quadrature of the curvilineal space, which is now known by
the name of the Lune of Hippocrates. The nature of this
discovery may be briefly explained as
follows. Let A BCD be a circle, H its
centre, AC its diameter, ADC a triangle
inscribed in the semicircle, having its
sides, AD, DC equal to one another.
On D as a centre, with DA or DC as
a radius, let the quadrantal arch AEC
be described, then shall the curvilineal
space bounded by the semicircle ABC
and the quadrantal arch AEC (which
is the Lune of Hippocrates), be equal to the rectilineal
triangle ADC.
Although Hippocrates’ discovery has led to no important
conclusion either relating to the quadrature of the circle or
that of any other curve, yet, at the time it was made, it
might be regarded as of some consequence, chiefly because
it showed the possibility of exhibiting a rectilineal figure
equal to a space bounded by curve lines, a thing which we
have reason to suppose was then done for the first time,
and might have been fairly doubted, considering the in¬
superable difficulty that was found to attend the quadrature
of the circle or its rectification.
Aristotle speaks of two persons, namely, Bryson and An¬
tiphon, who, about his time, or a little earlier, were occu-
Squaring,
SQUARING.
Squaring, pied with the quadrature of the circle. The former ap-
pears, according to the testimony of Alexander Aphrodi-
seus, to have erred most egregiously, he having concluded
that the circumference was exactly 3f times the diameter.
And the latter seems to have proceeded in the same
manner as Archimedes afterwards did in squaring the para¬
bola, that is, by first inscribing a square in the circle, then
an isosceles triangle in each of the segments of the curve,
having for its base a side of the square, and next again a
series of triangles in the segments, having for their bases
the sides of the former series, and so on. This mode of
procedure, however, was not attended with success, as
these spaces do not, as in the case of the parabola, admit of
being absolutely summed.
It may be supposed that Archimedes exerted his utmost
efforts to resolve this problem, and probably it was only
after long meditation on the subject that he lost all hopes
of success, and contented himself with that approximation
to the ratio of the diameter to the circumference which is
contained in his treatise De Circuli Dimensione. He
found his approximation to the ratio, by supposing a regu¬
lar polygon of ninety-six sides, to be described about the
circle, and another of the same number to be inscribed in
it, and by showing that the perimeter of the circumscribing
polygon was less than or 3-f times the diameter, but
that the perimeter of the inscribed figure was greater than
3^^ times the diameter; now, the circumference of the
circle being less than the perimeter of the one polygon,
but greater than that of the other, it follows that the cir¬
cumference must be less than 3^- times the diameter, but
greater than 3^ times, so that, taking the first of these
limits, as being expressed by the smallest numbers, the
circumference will be to the diameter as 3^- to 1, or as 22
to 7 nearly.
Although the ratio found by Archimedes be the oldest
known in the western world, yet one more accurate was
known at a much earlier period in India. This we learn
from the Institutes of Akbar (Ayeen Akberry), where it is
said that the Hindoos suppose the diameter of a circle to
be to its circumference as 1250 to 3927. Now, this ratio
must have required the inscription of a polygon of 768 sides
in the circle, and must have been attended with nine ex¬
tractions of the square root, each carried as far as ten places
of figures.
We learn from Simplicius that Nicomedes and Apollo¬
nius both attempted to square the circle, the former by
means of a curve, which he called the quadratrix; the in¬
vention of which, however, is ascribed to Dinostratus, and
the latter, by the help of a curve, denominated the sister to
the tortuous line, or spiral, and which was probably the
quadratrix of Dinostratus; the nature of which, and the
manner of its application to the subject in question, we shall
briefly explain.
Let AFB be a quadrant of a circle (fig. 2), and C its
centre ; and conceive the radius CF to
revolve uniformly about C, from the A
position CA, until at last it coincide
with CB ; while at the same[time a line
DG is carried with a uniform motion
from A towards CB ; the former line 11
continuing always parallel to the latter,
until at last they coincide; both mo- 0
tions being supposed to begin and end
at the same instant; the point E, in Fie‘ 2‘
which the revolving radius CF, and the movable line DG
intersect one another, will generate a certain curve line
AEH, which is the quadratrix of Dinostratus.
Draw EK, FL both perpendicular to CB ; then because
the radius AC and the quadrantal arch AFB, are uniform¬
ly generated in the same time by the points D and F, the
contemporaneous spaces described will have to one another
VOL. xx.
521
the same ratio as the whole spaces; that is, AD : AF : : Squaring.
AC : AB ; hence we have AC : AB : : DC, or EK : FB.
Now, as the moveable point F approaches to B, the ratio of
the straight line EK to the arch FB will approach to, and will
manifestly be ultimately the same as the ratio of the straight
line EK to the straight line FL, which again is equal to the ratio
of CE to CF; therefore the ratio of the radius AC to the
quadrantal arch AFB is the limit of the ratio of CEtoCF, and
consequently equal to the ratioofCHtoCB, H being the point
in which the quadratrix meets CB. Since therefore CH :
CB : : CA, or CB : quad, arch AFB, if by any means we
could determine the point H, we might then find a straight
line equal to the quadrantal arch (by finding a third pro¬
portional to CH and CB), and consequently a straight line
equal to the circumference. The point H, however, can¬
not be determined by a geometrical construction, and there¬
fore all the ingenuity evinced by the person who first
thought of this method of rectifying the circle (which cer¬
tainly is considerable), has been unavailing.
1 he Arabs, who succeeded the Greeks in the cultivation
of the sciences, would no doubt have their pretended squares
of the circle. We, however, know nothing more than that
one of them believed he had discovered that the diameter
being unity, the circumference was the square root of 10;
a very gross mistake; for the square root of 10 exceeds
3,162; but Archimedes had demonstrated that the circum¬
ference was less than 3*143.
It appears that, during the dark ages, some attempts were
made at the resolution of this famous problem, which, how¬
ever, have always remained in manuscripts, buried in the
dust of old libraries. But upon the revival of learning, the
problem was again agitated by different writers, and parti¬
cularly by the celebrated Cardinal De Cusa, who distin¬
guished himself by his unfortunate attempt to resolve it.
His mode of investigation, which had no solid foundation
in geometry, led him to conclude, that if a line equal to the
sum of the radius of a circle, and the side of its inscribed
square were made the diameter of another circle, and an
equilateral triangle were inscribed in this last, the perime¬
ter of this triangle would be equal to the circumference of
the other circle. This pretended quadrature was refuted
by Regiomontanus.
It would be trespassing too much upon the patience of
our readers were we to mention all the absurd and erro¬
neous attempts which have been made during the last three
centuries to square the circle. In a supplement to Mon-
tucla’s Histoire des Mathematiques, we find upwards of forty
pretenders to the honour of this discovery enumerated.
They were almost all very ignorant of geometry ; and many
of them were wild visionaries, pretending to discover inex¬
plicable relations between the plain truths of mathematics
and the most mysterious doctrines of religion. From such
persons as have generally pursued this inquiry, no improve¬
ment whatever of the science was to be expected ; al¬
though, in some instances, it has derived advantage from
the labours of such as have undertaken to expose the ab¬
surdity of their conclusions; as in the case of Metius, who
in refuting the quadrature of one Simon a Quercu, found
a much nearer approximation to the ratio of the diameter
to the circumference than had been previously known in
Europe, namely that of 113 to 355.
Among the most remarkable of those who have under¬
taken to resolve this problem, we cannot fail to enumerate
Joseph Scaliger, a man of stupendous erudition. Full of con¬
fidence in his own powers, he believed that, entering upon
the study of geometry, he could not fail to surmount by the
force of his genius those obstacles which had completely
stopped the progress of all preceding inquirers. Lie gave the
result of his meditations to the world in 1592, under the title
Nova Cyclometria; but he was refuted by Clavius, by Vieta,
and others, who showed that the magnitude which he had
3 u
522 S Q U A
Squaring, assigned to the circumference was a little less than the peri-
meter of the inscribed polygon of 192 sides, which proved
beyond a doubt that he was wrong. Scaliger, however, was
not to be convinced of the absurdity of his conclusion;
and indeed, in almost every instance, pretenders to this dis¬
covery have not been more remarkable for their egregious
errors, than for their obstinacy in maintaining that they
were in the right, and all who held a contrary opinion in
the wrong.
The famous Hobbes came also upon the field about the
year 1650, with pretensions not only to the quadrature of
the circle, but also to the trisection of an angle, the rectifi¬
cation of the parabola, &c.; but his pretended solutions
were refuted by Dr Wallis. And this circumstance afford¬
ed him occasion to write not only against geometers, but
even against the science of geometry itself.
We find it recorded by Montucla, as a sort of phenome¬
non, that one Richard White, an English Jesuit, having
happened upon what he conceived to be a quadrature of the
circle, which he published under the title, Chryscespis, seu
Quadrature, Circuli, suffered himself at last to be convinced
by some of his friends that he was wrong. But a solution
of the same problem, found out by one Mathulen of Lyon,
did not end in so much advantage to its author. This man
in 1728 announced to the world that he had discovered both
the quadrature of the circle and a perpetual motion; and
he was so certain of the truth of these discoveries that he
consigned 1000 ecus (about L.125) to be paid to any one
who should demonstrate that he was deceived in either.
The task was not difficult. Nicole of the Academy of
Sciences demonstrated that he was wrong, and he himself
allowed it; but he hesitated to pay the money, which Ni¬
cole had relinquished in favour of the Hotel Dieu of Lyon.
The affair went before a court of justice, which adjudged
the money to be paid, as Nicole had destined it, to the
poor. At a later period, namely, in 1753, the Chevalier de
Causans, a French officer, and a man who was never sup¬
posed to be a mathematician, suddenly found a quadrature
of the circle in procuring a circular piece of turf to be cut;
and rising from one truth to another, he explained by his
quadrature the doctrine of original sin, and the Trinity !
He engaged himself, by a public writing, to deposit with a
notary the sum of 300,000 francs, to be wagered against
such as should oppose him, and he actually lodged 10,000,
which were to devolve to him who should demonstrate his
error. This was easily done, as it resulted from his disco¬
very that a circle was equal to its circumscribing square,
that is, a part to the whole. Some persons came forward
to answer his challenge, and in particular a young lady sued
him at one of the courts of law; but the French king
judged that the chevalier’s fortune ought not to suffer on
account of his whim; for, setting aside this piece of folly, in
every other respect he was a worthy man. The procedure
was therefore stopped, and the wager declared void.
We shall not enter further into the history of these vain
and absurd attempts to resolve this important problem, but
proceed to state what has actually been done by men of
sound minds and real mathematical acquirements towards
its solution. And in the first place, it may be observed
that the problem admits of being proposed under two diffe¬
rent forms; for it may be required to find either the area
of the whole circle, or, which is the same thing, the length
of the whole circumference ; or else to find the area of any
proposed sector or segment, or, which is equivalent, the
length of the arch of the sector or segment. The former
is termed the definite, and the latter the indefinite quadra¬
ture of the circle. The latter evidently is more general
than the former, and includes it as a particular case. Now,
if we could find by any means a finite algebraic equation that
should express the relation between any proposed arch of a
circle, and some known straight line, or lines, the magni-
E I N G.
tude of one or more of which depended on that arch, then Squaring,
we would have an absolute rectification of the arch, and
consequently a rectification or quadrature of the whole cir¬
cle. We here speak of an analytical solution ; the ancients,
who were almost entirely ignorant of this branch of mathe¬
matical science, must have endeavoured to treat it entirely
upon geometrical principles. It is now well known, how¬
ever, that all geometrical problems may be subjected to >
analysis; and that it is only by such a mode of proceeding
they have in many cases been resolved.
With respect to the definite quadrature of the circle, no
unexceptionable demonstration of its impossibility has
hitherto been published. It is true, that James Gregory, in
his Vera Circuli et Hyperbolce Quadrature, has given what
he considered as such a demonstration ; but it was objected
to by Huygens, one of the best geometers of his time. It
is certain that the ratio of the diameter to the circumference,
also, that the ratio of the square of the diameter to the
square of a straight line equal to the circumference, cannot
be expressed by rational numbers, for this has been strict¬
ly demonstrated by Lambert in the Berlin Memoirs for
1761. A demonstration is also given in Legendre’s Geo¬
metric. As to the indefinite quadrature, if Newton’s de¬
monstration of the twenty-eighth lemma of the first book of
his Principia be correct, the thing ought to be absolutely
impossible. For the object of that proposition is to prove,
that in no oval figure whatever, that returns into itself, can
the area cut off by straight lines at pleasure be universally
found by an equation of a finite dimension, and composed
of a finite number of terms. If this be true, then it will be
impossible to express any sector of a circle taken at plea¬
sure in finite terms. It is, however, to be remarked, that the
accuracy of the reasoning by which Newton has attempted
to establish the truth of the general proposition has been
questioned by no less a geometer than D’Alembert: and
indeed we know one oval curve, which returns into itself,
and which according to Newton’s proposition ought there¬
fore not to admit of an indefinite quadrature ; yet this is by
no means the case, for it does really admit of such a quad¬
rature. The curve we mean is the lemniscata, whose figure
is nearly that of the numeral character 8. Upon the whole,
then, we may infer that an unexceptionable demonstration
of the impossibility of expressing either the whole circle, or
any proposed sector of it, by a finite-equation, is still among
the desiderata of mathematics.
Of the different methods which have" been found for ap¬
proximating to the area or to the circumference, that of
Archimedes is the only one found by the ancients in the
western world that has descended to modern times, and it
appears to have been the most accurate known, until about
the year 1585, when Metius, in refuting a pretended quad¬
rature, found a more accurate ratio of 113 to 355, as we
have already noticed. About the same time Vieta and
Adrianus Romanus published their ratios, the former carry¬
ing the approximation to ten decimals instead of six (which
was that of Metius’s ratio), and the latter extending it to
17 figures. Vieta also gave a kind of series, which being
continued to infinity, gave the value of the circle.
These approximations, however, were far exceeded by
that of Ludolph Van Ceulen, who, in a work published in
Dutch in 1610, carried it as far as 36 figures, showing that if
the diameter were unity, the circumference would be greater
than 3T4159,26535,89793,23846,26433,83279,50288, but
less than the same number with the last figure increased by
an unit. In finding this approximation, Van Ceulen fol¬
lowed the method of Archimedes, doubling continually the
number of sides of the inscribed and circumscribed poly¬
gons, until at length he found two which differed only by
an unit in the 36th place of decimals in the numbers ex¬
pressing their perimeters. This was rather a work of pa¬
tience than of genius; indeed the labour must have been
S T A
S Q U
Squaring, prodigious. He seems to have valued highly this singular
effort; for, in imitation of Archimedes, whose tomb was
adorned with a sphere and cylinder, he directed that the
ratio he had found might be inscribed on his tomb.
Snellius abridged greatly the labour of calculation ; and
although he did not go beyond Van Ceulen, yet he verified
his result. Descartes also found a geometrical construc¬
tion, which being repeated continually, gave the circum¬
ference, and from which he might easily have deduced
an expression in the form of a series. Gregory of St
Vincent distinguished himself also on this subject; he
however committed a great error in supposing he had dis¬
covered the quadrature of both the circle and hyperbola.
Gregory’s mistake was the cause of a sharp controversy
carried on between his disciples on the one side, and by
Huygens, Mersenne, and Lestaud, on the other ; and it
was this that gave Huygens occasion to consider particu¬
larly the quadrature of the circle, and to investigate vari¬
ous new and curious theorems relating to it, which are con¬
tained in his Theoremata de Quadratura Hyperboles, El¬
lipsis, et Circuli, 1651; and in his work De Circuli Magni-
tudine inventa, 1654. In particular, he showed, that if c
denote the chord of an arch, and s its sine, then the arch
itself will be greater than cxKc-s), but less than c +
*4" s
2c + zs + : a^so showed that the arch is less than
the sum off of its sine and f of its tangent.
James Gregory, in his Vera Circuli et Hyperboles
Quadratura, gave several curious theorems upon the re¬
lations of the circle to its inscribed and circumscribed
polygons, and their ratios to one another; and by means
of these he found with infinitely less trouble than by the
ordinary methods, and even by those of Snellius, the mea¬
sure of the circle as far as 20 places of figures. He gave
also, after the example of Huygens, constructions for find¬
ing straight lines nearly equal to arches of a circle, and of
which the degree of accuracy was greater. For example,
he found that if A be put for the chord of an arch of a
circle, and B for twice the chord of half the arch, and C
be taken such that A + B : B :: B : C, then the arch itself is
nearly equal to  , but a little less, the error in
the case of a complete semicircle being less than its
part; and when the arch does not exceed 120°, it is less
than its part; and finally, for a quadrant the error
is not greater than its streVtnr Part- And farther, that if D
be such that A : B :: B : D, then the arch is nearly equal to
12C + 4B-D , i*i
  , but a little greater, the error in the semi¬
circle being less than its xoVtr Pai% anc^ in a quadrant less
than its part.
Dr Wallis gave, in his Ariihmetica Infinitorum, a sin¬
gular expression for the ratio of the circle to the square of
its diameter. He found that the former was to the latter
as 1 to the product
3x3x5x5x7x7x9x9x11x11, &c.
2x4x4x6x6x8x8x10x10x12
the fractions f, f, f, f, &c., being supposed infinite in
number. The products being supposed continued to
infinity, we have the ratio exactly; but if we stop at any
finite number of terms, as must necessarily be the case in
its application, the result will be alternately too great and
too small, according as we take an odd or an even number
of terms of the numerator and denominator.
An expression of another kind for the ratio of the circle
to the square of the diameter was found by Lord Brounker.
He showed that the circle being unity, the square of the
diameter is expressed by the continued fraction
523
i + ■
2 + :
2 +
25
2 +
49
2 +, &c.
which is supposed to go on to infinity, the numerators 1, 9,
25, 49, Sec., being the squares of the odd numbers 1, 3, 5,
/, Sec. By taking two, three, four, Sec., terms of this frac¬
tion, we shall have a series of approximate values, which
are alternately greater and less than its accurate value.
Such were the chief discoveries relating to the quadra¬
ture of the circle made before the time of Newton ; many
others, however, were quickly added by that truly great
man, as well as by his contemporaries. In particular,
James Gregory found that t, being put for the tangent, the
arch is expressed by the very simple series
By supposing that < = 1, in which case the arch is one-
eighth of the circumference, we have the corresponding
arch expressed by the series
3+5 7+9 H + &c*)
which was also given by Leibnitz as a quadrature of the
circle in the Acta Eruditorum in the year 1682, but was
discovered by him in 1673. Gregory had, however, found
the series under its general form several years before.
This series is altogether inapplicable in its present form,
on account of the slowness of its convergency; for Newton
has observed, that to exhibit its value exact to twenty
places of figures, there would be occasion for no less than
five thousand millions of its terms, to compute which would
take up above a thousand years.
The slowness of the convergency has arisen from our
supposing t= 1. If we had supposed t greater than 1, then
the series would not have converged at all, but on the con¬
trary diverged. But by giving to £ a value less than 1, then
the rate of convergency will be increased, and that so much
the more as t is smaller.
If we suppose the arch of which t is the tangent to be
30°, then t will be V 3, and therefore half the cir¬
cumference to radius unity, or the circumference to the
diameter unity, will be
Stade.
^12(l 3-3 + 5-32 7-33 + 9-34 &C'^
Machin, enticed by the easiness of the process, was in¬
duced, about the beginning of the last century, to continue
the approximation as far as 100 places of figures, thus
finding the diameter to be to the circumference as 1 to
3-14159,26535,89793,23846,26433,83279,50288,41971,69
399,37510,58209,74944,59230,78164,06286,20899,86280,
34825,34211,70680. After him, De Lagny continued it
as far as 128 figures. But he has also been outdone ; for
in Radcliffe’s library at Oxford, there is a manuscript in
which it is carried as far as 150 figures, and Dr Rutherford
has carried it to 208!
Although this last series, which was first proposed by Dr
Halley, gives the ratio of the diameter to the circumference
with wonderful facility when compared with the operose
method employed by Van Ceulen, yefr others have been
since found which accomplish it with still greater ease.
We have given such a method in our treatise on Alge¬
bra (see article 272). In the same treatise (article 273),
we have given a very elementary method, which may be
understood by the mere elements of geometry. For the
analytical methods see Fluxions. (w. w.)
STADE, a fortified town of Hanover, capital of a pro¬
vince of the same name, in a marshy district on the
524 S T A
Stadium Schwinge, about 3 miles above its confluence with the
‘ II Elbe, 22 miles west of Hamburg. It is surrounded by
„ walls, and has been recently partly fortified although the
Madamede. ’once entertained 0f making it a complete fortress is
now o-iven up. The chief buildings are three churches; a
normal seminary; a gymnasium, which occupies the site of
an ancient Augustinian convent; a house of correction,
and others. Flannel and hosiery are manufactured, and a
considerable trade is carried on. Stade was in ancient
times the seat of independent counts, of whom we read in
history as far back as 931 ; but it afterwards became in¬
corporated with the possessions of the archbishops of
Bremen. Pop. 7950. . .
STADIUM, the chief Greek measure for itinerary dis¬
tances, which was adopted by the Romans chiefly for
nautical and astronomical measurements. It consisted of
600 Greek feet, or 625 Roman feet, or of 606f English
feet. (See Weights and Measures.)
STAEL, Madame de, Anne Marie Louise Germaine
Necker, was born at Paris in 1766 ; her father settled in
that capital since 1749, and gradually by his industry and
his integrity, raised himself to a very important position.
He was at the head of one of the first banking-houses ; his
opinion on financial matters always commanded attention ;
his salon was the favourite resort of the beaux esprits, who
inaugurated, during the eighteenth century, the reign of
public opinion. Under such circumstances, M. Necker
could not fail to be popular; from the same cause he soon
began to think that the man whose name had become a
household word—that the man whom Marmontel admired
and Turgot listened to—that the friend of princes, econo¬
mists, and academicians—in short, that M. Necker was the
wonder of his age. 11 is quite certain that M. Neckei s
vanity acted as a drawback upon his otherwise estimable char¬
acter ; but some allowances should be made for the peculiar
circumstances in which he was placed. We do not allude
now to the species of worship which Madame de Stael
cherished—the exaggeration of filial love; but the implicit
reliance placed in all quarters upon the financier s ipse dixit
was really ridiculous. Mademoiselle Susanne Curchod, be¬
fore marrying M. Necker, had attracted the attention of
Gibbon the historian, who was deterred, it is said, from any
proposals by the threats of his father. 1 he contrast be¬
tween an extra-polished English gentleman and a simple un¬
affected Swiss country-girl, would have been most striking ;
Susanne Curchod’s exchange of a village school-house for the
crowded drawing-rooms of Paris was quite as piquant. She,
however, soon gave evidence of a natural tact, which en¬
abled her to do honour to the new position in which her lot
was cast; and if it be true that real merit alone is exposed
to the attacks of jealousy, no one ever deserved more praise
than Madame Necker.
The education of the future Corinne was, if we may so
say, begun, continued, and finished in her mothers salon.
*4 We entered the drawing-room,” writes Mdlle. Huber. ‘ By
the side of Madame Necker’s arm-chair was a little wooden
stool on which her daughter was expected to sit, and to
keep herself very upright. Hardly had she taken her ac¬
customed place, when three or four old people came round
her, and spoke to her with the deepest interest. One of
them, who wore a little round wig, took her hands in his,
where he kept them a long time, talking to her all the while,
as if she had been five-and-twenty years old. This was the
Abbe Raynal; the others were MM. Thomas, Marmontel,
the Marquis De Pesay, and Baron De Grimm. Made¬
moiselle Necker at that time was only eleven. Fortunately,
from her strong feelings and her generous affectionate dis¬
position, she could entertain no permanent sympathy for the
heartless sneering and the analytical philosophy of the Yol-
S T A
tairian school, and the perusal of her works amply evidences Stael,
that she-had nothing in common with that clever but dan-Madamede.
gerous coterie. Another writer, more powerful, perhaps,
than the patriarch of Ferney—a writer whose doctrines, at
all events, have contributed in a considerably large propor¬
tion to the intellectual and political education of the present
generation—Rousseau, was the idol of Mademoiselle Nec¬
ker’s earliest literary worship. The author of La Nouvelle
Heloise was a chef d’ecole in literature ; he counteracted very
decidedly the critical tendencies so prevalent towards the
close of the eighteenth century, by powerful appeals to what
M. Sainte-Beuve aptly calls the instinctive forces of the soul
—melancholy, compassion, enthusiasm for genius, for nature,
for virtue, for misfortune. Mademoiselle Necker was pe¬
culiarly qualified to appreciate Rousseau ; full of passion as
she was, and acting from impulse rather than principle, she
espoused a code of tenets which had the merit of awaken¬
ing the soul; and with the exception of a few literary
trifles, which hardly deserve noticing, her first performance
as an author was a work devoted to the apology of Jean
Jacques. The Letters on Rousseau were published in the
year 1788. Written in the pride of youth, they have the
merits and faults peculiar to the production of an ardent
imagination, which pours out its treasures without restraint.
“ An unreasonable admiration of her subject,” says a critic,
“ has betrayed her into some extravagances, which would
have been avoided had she treated the theme in after years;
but the same cause has given birth to passages glowing with
eloquence, and prophetic of the glories she was to achieve.”
The very disposition which drew Mdlle. Necker’s sym¬
pathies towards Rousseau, rendered her perfectly competent
to judge and to censure some of the more prominent faults
of that eloquent writer. She has noticed the sophisms con¬
tained in the Nouvelle Heloise, and the masterly critique
she has given of that work will ever keep its place as a
monument of skill and of discrimination. When the Letters
were first published, the charge of affectation was brought
against the authoress. She might have been accused, per¬
haps, of rashness, but certainly no person in the world was
ever less affected. The reverse is in reality her case. She
yields too much to what the French call entrainement; it
is her soul that guides her pen.
But ere this, in 1786, Mdlle. Necker had married Baron
De Stael, the King of Sweden’s ambassador to the French
court. It was a mariage de convenance in every sense of
the word, and was attended with the usual unpleasant con¬
sequences which render unions of the kind so fatal to both
parties concerned in them. Baron De Stael’s principal
fault seems to have been an utter disregard for the value of
money—a curious failing for so near a connection of the
greatest financier then living. The immense dowry '^hich
M. Necker gave with his daughter, speedily felt the influence
of the baron’s thoughtless liberality ; and had not Madame
De Stael subsequently placed herself and her children under
the protection of M. Necker, it is likely that the improvident
diplomatist would have seriously diminished, if not com¬
pletely destroyed the fortunes of his young family.
The low ideas of morality which unhappily prevailed dur¬
ing the last century rendered matrimonial catastrophes such
as Madame De Stael’s matters of everyday occurrence;
and if they did not always lead to an open rupture, it was
because the husband and wife could quietly make up their
minds'to accept on both sides what society considered as an
event of course. Madame De Stael never gave the slightest
occafcii)n for calumny, but she saw at once that marriage
ought not to be made a question of marketable profit.
Putting things in the most favourable position, the husband
of a femme celebre is speedily metamorphosed into a non¬
entity.1 One day an habitue of Madame Geoffrin’s dinner
1 See on that subject a very curious passage in La Bruyere’s Caractlm, edit. Jannet., vol. i., pp. 221, 222.
“ II y a telle femme,” &c.
S T A E L. 525
Stael, parties asked her what had become of that nice quiet old
Jladamede. gentleman whom he used to meet every Wednesday even-
ing at her house, and whose absence he had noticed for the
last month. “ That gentleman, sir,” answered Madame,
“ was my husband ; he is dead.” Madame De Stael felt to
its full extent the evil resulting from the immoral con¬
ventionalism adopted by the fashionable world, and she stig¬
matised it most energetically in Delphine, a novel which was
published for the first time in 1802. This work produced
the greatest sensation when it first came out; it was a re¬
volution in the style of romance-writing. “ Delphine,” says
Madame Necker de Saussure, “is Madame De Stael in her
youth.” Those fond of studying an author’s character
through the creations of his fancy, must have felt interested
whilst perusing Delphine; but besides this, Madame De
Stael there endeavoured to defend an idea, which is nothing
else but a dangerous paradox. “ Men ought to know how
to set public opinion at defiance ; woman must submit to it.”
Such is the text selected—a text so attractive, and at the
same time so unsound, that it has, since 1802, been the
favourite motto of a school in metaphysical literature. If
Madame De Stael invented the femme incomprise, George
Sand may be said to have vulgarised her. The principle
which serves as a fundamental axiom to Delphine is essen¬
tially false. To quote Chenier, “ Man ought not to defy
public opinion; woman ought not blindly to bend before it.
They should both sift it; accept it when it is legitimate; and
reject it when it is erroneous. Right and wrong are inva¬
riable : the rules of propriety differ, it is true, according to
, the sexes ; but nature does not condemn man to a life of
scandal, and woman to a course of hypocrisy. Virtue and
reason exist equally for both, and before those eternal limits
all conventionalisms must stop. Delphine, as a novel, is
more interesting from the sketches of character it contains
than from the plot itself: M. de Talleyrand is painted to
the life under the name of Madame de Vernon.
It is not our intention to give here a detailed account of
Madame de Stael’s numerous voyages during the revolution
and the empire. We find her in 1793 at Coppet in Swit¬
zerland, where was her father’s estate; she also visited Eng¬
land, and established herself at a house called Juniper Hall
at Mickleham, near Richmond. There a colony of French
refugees was speedily formed; the pressure of the times
drove to foreign countries the most illustrious families of
France, and several distinguished personages were the con¬
stant companions of Madame de Stael at Richmond. Count
de Narbonne, Madame de la Chatre, M. de Talleyrand,
General d’Arblay—such are a few names taken at random.
Under the most distressing circumstances, the colony man¬
aged to keep up their spirits and to weather the storm.
Occasionally they were reduced to very ludicrous shifts;
we are told that this little party could afford to purchase
only one small carriage, which took two persons, and that
MM. de Narbonne andDe Talleyrand alternately assumed
the post of footman as they rode about to see the country,
removing the glass from the back of the coach in order to
join the conversation of those inside.
It was not without the greatest difficulty that Madame
de Stael contrived to escape from Paris during the Reign of
Terror. She had given dire offence by the independent way
in which she acted, and by the sympathy she openly mani¬
fested for persons whom the “ sovereign people ” had visited
with a sentence of proscription. Her letters on Jean Jac¬
ques Rousseau contain the following remarkable passage:—
“N’^ffacezpointlesceaude raison etdepaixque ledestinveut
apposer sur votre constitution; etquand 1’acord unanime vous
permetde compter sur le but que vous voulez atteindre, pre-
lendez & la gloire de Vohtenir sans F avoir passe.” The gifted
writer had thus strikingly prophesied, six months before the
convocation of the States General, the excesses into which Stael,
the spirit of demagogueism was speedily to lead the revol-^adame
ution. The national convention, or rather the members of
the famous comite de salut public, did go beyond the limits
of legitimate reform; and they were not likely to deal merci¬
fully with those, above all, who maintained the rights of
liberty and protested against the tyranny of the mob. How
to preserve her friends, how to harbour them, how to facili¬
tate their escape, was the task Madame de Stael firmly and
exclusively undertook, at a time when every attempt of the
kind rendered her amenable to the guillotine. She thus
saved the life of M. de Talleyrand, M. de Jaucourt, and
M. de Lally-Tollendal. M. de Narbonne, ex-minister of
war, was one of the persons on whose behalf she devoted
herself most energetically. She watched the streets anxi¬
ously during one night when the police were hunting for
him. His fate, if he were seized, would be instant death,
and she knew that the search of her house must discover
him. In this critical circumstance, the government agents
called at the house of the Swedish embassy to make their
dread domiciliary visit; one would think that only nerves
of iron could maintain a calm appearance at such a moment.
But she assures us that with her the case was otherwise.
“We can always,” she adds, “master our emotion, however
violent it may be, when we feel that its indulgence would
expose the life of another.” Was there ever a nobler sen¬
tence penned?
Prior to the appearance of Delphine, Madame de Stael
had published a work, which, together with the volumes on
Germany to be presently noticed, contains the programme
of her aesthetic system. It appeared in 1800, exactly one
year previous to the literary coup d'etat of M. de Chateau¬
briand. The title is, On Literature considered in its re¬
lation to Social Institutions.”1 Thus, nearly at the same
time, from two opposite points of the horizon, rose two
standards more intimately allied with one another than was
thought at first; and round them were soon gathered those
who had long felt the necessity of a literary revival. M.
de Chateaubriand’s fame has cast into the shade Madame
de Stael’s treatise, but the impression produced by the work
we are now mentioning was strong and lasting. It was, in
truth, a bold undertaking, both from the novelty of the
opinions stated, and the frequent allusions to passing events;
and Madame de Stael expected to meet with much bitter
opposition.
Literature holds the closest and the most essential con¬
nection with the virtue, the glory, the liberty, and the hap¬
piness of a state; humanity is ruled by a law of perfecti¬
bility ; and it is this law which, from time to time, has ele¬
vated the standard of public morality, together with the
criteria of taste. The law of perfectibility is indefinite :
guaranteed to the future as it was enjoyed by the past, it
must follow the development of the social institutions ; and
its distinctive character in the present day will be the pre¬
dominancy of the serious principles over wit, the triumph of
the spirit of the north over the literary aspirations of the
south. Such is, in a few words, the argument chosen by
Madame de Stael for the subject-matter of her two volumes.
They are composed of two parts quite distinct, and ought to
be judged each by itself. The historical explanations are
not generally very correct, nor the quotations apposite; this,
of course, impairs more than once the strength of the best
arguments. Madame de Stael may be said to have often
guessed uncommonly well; but everything is not a matter
of guess, and she has repeatedly adduced errors in support
of truths. Imperfectly acquainted as she was with ancient
literature, she might have been expected to stumble at the
name of a Greek philosopher or a Roman poet, but the
Paris Aristarchi could not forgive her a few gross mistakes in
1 De la Litterature comidFree dans ses rapports avec les Institutions Socialet.
526
S T A E L.
Stael, modern lore: they insinuated that she had blundered pur-
Madamede.p0sely in order to make good a Utopian system ; and when
she gave the name of “ father of modern poetry” to Ossian—
that is, to the notorious Macpherson—no wonder that a
hue-and-cry was immediately raised by the public press.
If we consider Madame de Stael’s work as a development
of the idea of perfectibility, it is open to the severest dis¬
cussion. There is in it much to blame, much that is ques¬
tionable ; at the same time the author’s faith and generous
impulses are entitled, on our part, to respect and admiration.
Nay, if we believe in Divine revelation, we also acknow¬
ledge the principle of perfectibility, although modified and
corrected by the influence of the Gospel. Madame de Stael
is too dogmatical, but we sincerely admire her fervent hope,
her thirst for truth, her thorough contempt and hatred for
everything that tends to sever us from immortality, and to
bind us to the present moment.
In a literary point of view, the work we are now noticing
is a complete manifesto of what the French term romanti¬
cism. It is not absolutely necessary, says the author, that
we should do better than our forefathers, but we must do
otherwise ; we must not be imitators, we must be ourselves.
Let us, as regards literature, yield to the inspirations which,
after the downfall of the Roman Empire, came upon society;
let us make room for the Christian element and the Ger¬
manic principle. Madame de Stael may not have suspected
the extent of the literary revolution which she so strongly
advocated; but her views were correct, and have only been
explained and carried out by the Hugo school of French
authors. At the time when she wrote, amidst all the anxieties
of a revolutionary government, and the din of European war¬
fare, it must have seemed extraordinary to many thinkers,
that northern poetry should be considered as the necessary
substratum for a new literary construction. Then, the idea
of turning melancholy into an aesthetic axiom, appeared ridi¬
culous beyond description. Critics laughed at that poetry
which mingled its strains with the roaring of the waves and
the moaning of the winds. The wits of the time of the
Directoire shrugged up their shoulders when told that
melancholy was the true source of inspiration, that authors
ought to be gloomy, and that every genuine poet was, more
or less, under the influence of despondency. In fact,
Madame de Stael’s axioms were so unexpectedly announced
that they were rejected altogether as traits of sophistry.
Chenier, Delille, Fontanes, and many others who enjoyed
a large amount of well-deserved reputation for their poetical
talent, were, besides, far from melancholy; and what was
worse than all, Madame de Stael advocated her gloomy
theory just at the moment when France, escaping from the
Reign of Terror, was already half-intoxicated with glory and
pleasure.
The asperity of the public press against both Delphine
and the work O71 Literature went beyond the bounds of
common politeness. Could the critics have become Do¬
minicans for the nonce, they would assuredly have made
an auto-da-fe of Madame de Stael and of her productions.
Her exile towards the end of 1803, her travels, her long
residence at Coppet, the friendship she formed with the
most eminent German thinkers, directed her ideas into a
new channel, and diverted her attention from the small talk
of the Paris feuilletons. During the Directoire, when
French society was endeavouring to reorganise itself, two
salons served in Paris as centres where those persons met
who had attained some taste for intellectual pleasures and
for the amenities of elegant conversation. The cele¬
brated Madame Tallien gathered together in her drawing¬
room the supporters of the new order of things, the real
republicans, the men of Thermidor; around Madame de
Stael might be found assembled, in a small but brilliant
array, the thinkers, the enthusiasts who aimed at effecting a
compromise between monarchy and the principles of 1789.
Their ideal was derived from a deep acquaintance with Eng- gtaifl
land and English institutions; they thought that liberty could Madamede.
exist most harmoniously in connection with loyalty, a here-
ditary line of kings, and even a powerful aristocracy. These
discussions, these meetings proved of very short duration ;
the eventful 18th of Brumaire occurred, and it became quite
clear that, under the rule of the Consul Buonaparte, no room
would be left for discussions of any kind. Compelled to
quit France, Madame de Stael immediately went to Ger¬
many, studied the language of that country, visited Weimar
and Berlin, and became acquainted with Goethe and the
Princes of Prussia. At that time she was already collecting
materials for the work which a second excursion (1807-8)
enabled her to complete. The tidings of M. Necker’s illness
reached her in the midst of this new society, so suited to her
taste, so calculated to draw out her brilliant conversational
powers. Easily alarmed on account of one so fondly beloved,
Madame de Stael felt a sad presentiment that she had seen
her father alive for the last time. She instantly set out for
Coppet, with her son and his tutor, August Wilhelm Yon
Schlegel. In a state of the greatest anxiety she arrived at
Zurich, where she was met by Madame Necker de Saussure,
who confirmed her worst fears. Her father was already at
rest. Her grief was agonizing to witness, her whole per¬
spective of the future seemed suddenly obliterated; life and
death, earth and heaven, were equally at war against her;
the one compelled her to wander desolate in strange coun¬
tries, the other snatched from her her father—her first,
most faithful, and dearest friend; her last support seemed
gone, and hopeless of relief, she resigned herself to the
most afflicting despair. Baron de Stael was dead since
1802. Thus severed from those whom she had a right to
regard as her natural guardians, she sought in the delights
of friendship both the protection she needed and a diver¬
sion to the sad thoughts which the state of her country could
not fail to excite. Benjamin Constant, Mathieu de Montmo¬
rency, Madame Recamier, were then the favourite habitues
of Coppet; and she watched with increased anxiety over
the education of a son and daughter, whose amiable dispo¬
sitions more than compensated for the bitter disappoint¬
ments she had found in marriage. After a short stay in
Italy, Madame de Stael passed a year in Switzerland. Dur¬
ing this interval she was busy in the composition of Corinne,
and needed little other employment. But as her work
drew to a close, she felt an anxious desire of revisiting Paris,
partly that she might correct the proof-sheets of the novel
with greater care, partly to be near her son, who was then
preparing for the polytechnic school under the direction of
Wilhelm Schlegel. A police order prohibiting her from
coming within 40 leagues of the metropolis, by dint of
manoeuvring, and thanks to the kindness of the minister
Fouche, she obtained leave to reside at half that distance—■
at Acosta, a country-house belonging to Madame de Cas-
tellane. Poor Corinne ! she could find nothing enjoyable far
from the atmosphere of a salon; and thatempassioned poetess
whom we love to fancy, as Gerard’s picture represents her,
sitting on Cape Misenum, would have exchanged without a
pang the Lake of Geneva for the muddy gutter which runs
along the pavement of the Rue du Bac! Buonaparte was
determined not to allow her the simple gratification she so
ardently longed for. Corinne ou Vltalie appeared for the
first time in 1807. Being quite foreign to political subjects,
it might reasonably have been thought incapable of giving
umbrage to the emperor. But its sudden popularity, and
the vivid interest in awakened for Madame de Stael through¬
out Europe, awoke the detestable spirit of jealousy which
characterised a sovereign for whose assaults nothing was
too noble or too hopeless. On the 9th of April 1807, the
very anniversary of her father’s death, she received a new
sentence of exile. It was now too evident that nothing but
the giving up of her independence could satisfy her enemy.
S T A E L.
Stael, Counting the bitter cost, and sighing to reflect that she
Madamede. disposed, perhaps, of the future of others as well as her
own, she proudly resolved to maintain her consistency, and
once more, at the bidding of her tyrant, said adieu to all
that remained of her once brilliant connections in France.
It was impossible, indeed, that she could please the emperor.
Her last sentence breathed a spirit of generous enthusiasm
which was distasteful to him. He is said to have remarked
peevishly, “ It is no matter what she writes, let it be poli¬
tics, history, or romance; it comes to the same thing in
the end: after reading her, people do not like me.”
Corinne is a wonderful work ; whether considered as a de¬
scription of Italy, or as a work on the fine arts, or as a sort
of autobiography, we are equally delighted and surprised.
Her characters are drawn with the most consummate power,
and the psychological analysis which it evinces is not sur¬
passed by any book professing to lay before us the strife of
the passions in the human heart. Corinne is the offspring
of enthusiasm and of grief; it is no fiction. Madame de
Stael was recording her own struggles when she described
the hesitation of a woman who cannot decide in her choice
between the happiness which springs from the affections,
and the emotions to which talent and glory give rise.
We find by glancing at the innumerable memoirs written
during the last century, interesting accounts of the coterie
over which Voltaire presided at Ferney ; a few particulars
respecting Madame de Stael’s salon at Coppet would be still
more welcome, if we could procure them. As many as thirty
persons were often at a time the guests of the illustrious
exile. Benjamin Constant, Schlegel, Bonstetten, Sismondi,
M. de Barante, Madame Recamier, M. de Sabran, were
among the most assiduous. Zacharias Werner was intro¬
duced in 1809; Lord Byron and 44 Monk” Lewis repre¬
sent the genius of England in 1816. The days were spent
in intellectual enjoyments, discussions on literature, and
critical readings ; a spirited opposition was maintained
against antiquated formulas and despotism of every descrip¬
tion. The book on Germany {de VAllemagne) may be con¬
sidered as the result of this epoch in the life of Madame
de Stael. It was written with the manifest intention of
protesting against a threefold tyranny. Buonaparte had
enslaved France; philosophy withered under the oppression
of the materialist school; and literature knew nothing be¬
yond a blind acknowledgment of tradition. Madame de
Stael felt how much her adopted country stood in need of
some stimulant to awaken it to a consciousness of its powers,
and she sent VAllemagne to the press. It was launched, as
it were, to defy the violence of the tempest, and to rescue
sinking France itself, which, as Madame de Stael believed,
had well-nigh lost all its dearly-bought liberties. Convinced
that nations should guide and support one another, she
sought in the bosom of defeated and humbled Germany
the safety of France. There was more patriotism than
national pride in the book of Madame de Stael. Buona¬
parte’s police gave it a character which it did not deserve.
Despite a persecution quite in accordance with the traditions
of military despotism, the spirit of the times, and the gene-
lal bent of the public mind, insured success to the obnoxious
work. Two ideas it contained became popular: the men
whom victory had not rendered insensible to freedom, felt
that a powerful voice had embodied, in an eloquent address,
their hopes and their fears; the panegyric of the descen¬
dants of the Teutons appeared in its true light—a pro¬
clamation of resistance.
Many a battle was fought in the arena of periodical cri-
ticisrn for or against VAllemagne, and it soon became mani-
est that Madame de Stael had successfully maintained her
own doctrine on literature and the fine arts. Already a
ecided tendency might be traced throughout the reading
527
public tovyards something more true to nature than the dull ...
and fastidious imitations of Racine and Corneille; the veil Madameda.
was drawn, and from behind it a glorious landscape burst ^
upon the sight of the astonished gazers; for many a young
and ardent mind, VAllemagne was replete with the perfumes
a.nd emanations of unknown but fragrant stores. That
literature described, by Madame de Stael, strange, wild, as
it appeared, brought to the imagination pleasing fancies and
beautiful ideas. Germany became to France as a long-
forgotten sister, who had treasured in her heart, and was
ever discerning old family traditions, otherwise lost for ever.
Then there came along with her the bewitching prestige of
liberty, a literature free from all restraints, whose resources
weie to be increased a hundred-fold; and the young gener¬
ation, tired of a classicism which was nothing more than the
echo of an echo, thought that, with independence, they had
recovered all the earnests of real happiness, whether for
good or for evil. Madame de Stael’s new work had an
immediate influence. It brought to a close the coldness,
the enmity which had so long existed between two great
people. Many years after, Goethe wrote thus of the book
we are now alluding to. “ It ought to be considered as a
powerful battery which made a wide breach in the sort of
wall raised up between the two nations by superannuated
prejudices. I bus, beyond the Rhine, we were once more
exactly inquired after; and we could not, consequently,
fail to acquire great influence throughout the whole west¬
ern part of Europe.”
The principle which Madame de Stael sought to inocu¬
late on her side of the Rhine was enthusiasm. But she
pursued her plan cleverly, without proclaiming it, without any
flourish of trumpet. Considering her country as an invalid,
to whom change of air is prescribed as the first remedy,
she accompanied the patient on a tour through Germany.
In reading her work, one can fancy a well-informed and
judicious guide pointing out to her friend the most striking
features of a foreign land. There is nothing polemical, no
attack upon particular feelings or tastes ; calmness and im¬
partiality prevail, on the contrary, throughout all the descrip¬
tions. Madame de Stael’s purpose is not to preach a crusade
on behalf of Germany. She simply states the facts, and
leaves her readers to judge. Of the Teutonic race she is
a decided champion ; yet in spite of her acknowledged pre¬
dilection, she did not find favour in the sight of all her Trans-
Rhenish cities. Many accused her of having disguised
the truth, and of being a very superficial judge. It is true
that she had not within her reach all the information which
should have formed the proper ground-work of her obser¬
vations. As for society itself, she knew nothing beyond
the manners of aristocratic circles and the fashionable
world ; whereas, amongst the higher orders, cosmopolitism is
too prevalent, and the national character is worn away by a
constant moral and mental friction with those around.
No one will be astonished at hearing that Madame de
Stael’s Memoirs contain a very unfavourable account of
Napoleon Buonaparte. Besides the complete antagonism
which must exist between military despotism and intellectual
powers of the highest, description, the French emperor’s
behaviour towards the author of Corinne had been marked
by a want of courtesy doubly inexcusable. When a man is
so circumstanced that he can say, sit pro ratione volantas,
rudeness is the characteristic of petty cowardice. At the
same time the evident unfairness stamped upon most of
the verdicts pronounced in Dix Annees d’Exil,1 is much to
be regretted ; Madame de Stael would certainly have best
considered the interest of her glory had she not stooped to
the tone of a common pamphlet writer.
Illusions, however, were beginning to vanish around Co¬
rinne; her circle of friends lost, one by one, its choicest <rems;
1 Such is the title of Madame de Stael’s autobiography.
528
S T A
Staffa. sufferings, disappointments, persecutions, the weight of
years, all told upon her mental energies. For a short time
she believed she saw in M. Rocca s attachment to her, and
in her marriage with him, the phantom of that happiness
which genius had failed to give her; but gradually the
brightest pictures of her fancy lost their hues, and she wisely
sought in the solid joys of religion both peace here and
hope for hereafter. The restoration of the Bourbon family
brought her back to France, so completely altered from
what’she was when she left it, that to those who knew her
at both periods of her life, the difference could not but be
painful. And yet it was a change for the better; it was a
shaking off of “ every weight,” a preparation for the last
struggle. The friendship of persons such as Madame de
Duras, M. du Chateaubriand, and Sir James Mackintosh,
made up, in some measure, for old ties which the rude hand
of death had broken asunder; but she did not lean too much
upon those earthly supports; and when, in July 14, 1817,
she breathed her last, it was with those firm hopes that alone
can light up the passage through the dark valley.
Madame de Stael left two children, who were both re¬
moved from this world in the midst of a career of piety
and of usefulness. Baron Auguste de Stael died in 1827,
at the early age of thirty-seven ; he had already evinced
talents, energies, and dispositions which caused him to be
regarded as a newDuplessis Mornay, or as the Wilberforce of
Protestant France. He took a prominent part in the estab¬
lishment of the Bible Society, of savings-banks, and in
the abolition of the slave trade. His Letters on England,
published in 1825, are full of interesting remarks, though
necessarily incomplete, from the fact that the author died
before he could finish the second volume. Madame de
Stael’s daughter had married, in 1816, the Duke de Broglie.
Her death, in 1838, was felt throughout France as a public
calamity. M. Rocca did not long survive his wife. He
went into Provence, to be near a brother whom he loved,
and there he succumbed under the pressure of sorrow and
disease. (G* M N-)
STAFFA, an islet among the Hebrides, celebrated for its
basaltic rocks and caverns, lies off the west coast of Mull,
about 8 miles distant from it. It consists of an uneven
tableland of an irregular oval form, about a mile and-a-half
in circumference, and the highest point, which is towards
the south-west, readies an elevation of 144 feet above the
sea. The base of the island is a ledge of conglomerated
trap-rock, above which rise basaltic columns, surmounted
bv a mass of basalt which has not assumed a columnar
form. The lowest part of the island is on the eastern
shore, and this is where visitors usually land on Staffa.
From this point towards the south the principal objects of
interest occur in succession. The first of these is the
Clam Shell Cave, one side of which consists of large
columns of basalt, carved like the ribs of a ship, or one of
the shells from which it has its name, while the other side
has, from the projecting ends of columns, a tesselated ap¬
pearance somewhat resembling a honeycomb. Near this
is the islet of Bouchaillie, or the Herdsman, a very beauti¬
ful basaltic structure of a conical form, and of great symme¬
try and regularity. From this place a long colonnade of
basaltic pillars extends as far as the entrance of Fingal s
Cave, which is the most beautiful and sublime of all the
basaltic wonders of Staffa. This cave extends back from
its mouth 227 feet; its breadth at the entrance is 42, and
at the inner extremity 22 feet. The sides are formed by
perpendicular columns of great size, beautifully jointed and
arranged in varied groups. The roof is beautifully marked
with the ends of pendent columns, and has a deep fissure
extending through its whole length parallel to the sides of
the cave. The sea never leaves the cavern, and there is a
depth of 18 feet at low water. The height of the roof
from the mean level of the sea is 66 feet, and the cliffs
S T A
above rise 30 feet higher. The singular resemblance of Stafford,
this magnificent work of nature to a work of art has
called forth the well-known lines of Sir Walter Scott on
Fingal’s Cave:—
“ Where, as to shame the temples deck’d
By skill of earthly architect,
Nature herself, it seemed, would raise
A minster to her Maker’s praise.”
The Boat Cave, which lies a little to the west of this one,
is smaller, but even more symmetrical in its structure; it is
14 or 15 feet in height above high water, about 12 feet
broad, and 150 long. The last cave of any beauty or in¬
terest is Mackinnon’s, also called the Scart or Cormorants
Cave, which approaches the dimensions of Fingal’s Cave,
but is less regular in its structure. There are various
other caves in the island, but none of them so remarkable
for size or beauty as those already mentioned. Though
Staffa is green and fertile, it is entirely destitute of trees, and
there is not a dwelling of any kind, even a hut, on the island.
STAFFORD, the county town of Staffordshire, a muni¬
cipal and paidiamentary borough and market-town of Eng¬
land, on the left bank of the Sow, 123 miles N.W. by W.
of London. It was anciently walled, and defended by a
castle; the latter, about a mile and a half to the south-west,
has been recently rebuilt; but of the walls, which were de¬
stroyed by the parliamentary forces in the 17th century,
few vestiges remain. The houses are for the most part
built of brick and slated, and most of the buildings stand
in two main streets, called Green Gate Street and Gaol
Gate Street, which extend to the north-west of a bridge
spanning the Sow. There are also two squares, in one
of which, the Market Square, stands the County Hall,
a spacious building of stone, containing court-rooms, an
assembly-room, and other handsome apartments. But the
finest buildings in Stafford are the Established churches,
two of which are parochial and of considerable anti¬
quity, while two others, Christ Church and St Paul’s,
have been recently built. St Mary’s is a large cruciform
edifice, with a lofty octagonal tower in the centre. Its
architecture is chiefly of the early English style, but
some portions have more resemblance to the Norman and
the perpendicular. In 1847 the church was repaired and
x*estored at considerable expense. The church of St Chad^
is of smaller size; it has a Norman chancel, but is partly of
modern date. There are other places of worship in the
town for Presbyterians, Independents, Methodists, Quakers,
Baptists, and Roman Catholics. The educational estab¬
lishments in Stafford comprise a grammar school of ancient
date, much enlarged by Edward VI., National, British,
and Ragged schools. The town has also a Mechanics’ In¬
stitute, a public library', almshouses, an infirmary, two lunatic
asylums, and a county jail. Tanning is carried on to some
extent in the town and neighbourhood; and the principal
articles manufactured in the town are shoes, which are ex¬
ported in considerable quantities. Markets are held week¬
ly, and there are five annual fairs. The borough is go¬
verned by a mayor, 5 aldermen, and 18 councillors, and it
returns two members to the House of Commons. Assizes
and quarter sessions for the county are held at Stafford.
The town seems to have grown up round a castle, which
was built here in 913 by Ethelfleda, sister of King Edward
the Elder, and at the time of the Norman conquest it was
a borough, called by the name of Statford or Stadford. In
the civil war of the 17th century, Stafford was occupied by
the king’s forces, after the capture of Lichfield by their
adversaries. An indecisive battle was fought at Hopton
Heath, in the vicinity, in 1643, and at a later period the
town was taken by the Roundheads, under Sir William
Brereton. The castle was also taken shortly after, and at
the close of the war was entirely demolished. Stafford was
the birth-place of the celebrated Isaac Walton. It com-
S T A
Stafford- municates with London by the Trent Valley and London
shire, and North-Western Railways, and has also easy intercourse
by railway with Liverpool, Manchester, and other towns in
the north. Pop. (1851), 11,829.
STAFFORDSHIRE, an inland county, nearly in the
centre, but rather to the W. of England. It is bounded on
the S. by Worcestershire and a detached part of Shropshire,
W. by the main body of Shropshire, N.W. by Cheshire, N.E.
bv Derbyshire, E. by a small portion of Leicestershire, and
S.E. by Warwickshire. Its greatest length from N. to S.E. is
60 miles, and its greatest breadth 38 miles. The southern
boundary is very irregular and much involved with that of
Worcestershire. A portion of the latter county, including
the important town of Dudley, is entirely insulated by
Staffordshire, whilst a portion of Staffordshire, including
the Clent Hills, lies within Worcestershire. An effort was
recently made by the Right Hon. Sir John Pakington and
the Worcestershire magistrates to rectify this irregularity,
but it was opposed by the Staffordshire magistrates, on the
ground that great expense would be incurred in increasing
the county jail at Stafford to provide for the prisoners from
Dudley. Staffordshire contains 1250 square miles, or
781,000 statute acres. It is the 18th county in England
in superficial extent, and the 6th in population.
Its physical aspect is marked by great variety. It in¬
cludes within it a part of the great watersheds of England,
different portions of it draining into the German Ocean,
the Irish Sea, and the Bristol Channel. The main part of
the county, however, belongs to the basin of the Trent; a
small portion to the W. drains into the Mersey, and a
larger strip on the S. into the Severn, which crosses a
narrow limb of the county. The N.E. part of the county
forms the termination of the Pennine range of mountains,
which, stretching southwards from the Cheviot Hills, form
the backbone of that part of England. The river Dove,
which separates Staffordshire from Derbyshire on the N.E.,
flows through a valley formed by two spurs of this range,
which presents a succession of scenery of exquisite beauty.
From the S. or Staffordshire slope of its basin the Dove
receives the Manyfold, Hamps, and Churnet. The two
former streams disappear underground and flow for some
miles in subterranean channels, uniting their streams before
they emerge, and fall into the Dove at Ham. The Dove
enters the Trent near Burton. Extending from the basin
of the Dove on the N.E. to the N.W. of the county is a con¬
tinuous range of hills and moorlands of a wild and varied
character, sloping gradually towards the Trent, and forming
the boundary of its basin to the N. To the E. of this
range, which includes the Weaver Hills, there are emi¬
nences rising to the altitude of 1200 or 1500 feet above the
level of the sea. They gradually subside tow ards the W.,
but are still high enough to give a decided feature to the
scenery, which is mainly moorland. To the W. much
lower elevations separate the basins of the Trent and
Mersey. This line of division is marked by large pools,
called meres, and considerable deposits of peat, which are
to be found extending to the confines of Shropshire.
Aquilate (aqua lata, broad w'ater), near Newport, in Shrop¬
shire, is one of the largest of these pools.
To the south of the county a range of hills extends from
Wolverhampton to Rowley Regis, and forms at once the
southern boundary of the coal-field of South Staffordshire,
and of the basin of the Trent. Wolverhampton itself is
on the apex of this ridge, and its streams drain partly into
the Bristol Channel and partly by the Trent into the
German Ocean. These hills rise at Rowley to the height
of 700 feet. They have been most interestingly described
by Hugh Miller in his First Impressions of England.
They belong to the Silurian system, and are very rich in
fossils. From the great extent to which they have been
quarried for limestone, they present extensive sections,
vol. xx.
S T A 529
open to the observation of the geologist. Very pure basalt Stafford-
exists in large masses at Rowley, and is locally known as shire.
Rowley Rag. It is used very extensively for paving.
“ The Silurian islets,” as Miller calls the principal emi¬
nences in this chain, are precipitous; and two, “The Wren’s
Nest” and the site of Dudley Castle, are very striking
objects.
The basin of the Trent extends from the summit of
these hills in the south to the rugged heights which bound
it on the north ; but near the centre of the county rises an
elevated plateau, known as Cannock Chase, which extends
from the west of Rugeley to the east of the county, rising
rather abruptly on all sides, except the east. It forms a
striking feature in the scenery, viewed either from the Trent
Valley Railway, which it closely approaches, or from the
line between Stafford and Wolverhampton, which is on its
opposite side. Between this central elevation and the
hills to the south of the county, lies the coal- field of South
Staffordshire, which drains eastward into the Tame, a river
rising to the north-west of Walsall, which town is on the
edge of the Chase. The Tame enters Warwickshire near
Birmingham, but sweeping north and north-east, re-enters
Staffordshire at Tamworth, and falls into the Trent a few
miles north of Lichfield.
Between Cannock Chase and the northern range of the
Staffordshire Hills the country is generally level. Through
this district runs the River Trent, the third river in Eng¬
land for length. It rises in the moorlands near Biddulph,
in the north-west of the county, on the borders of Cheshire,
flows south by Trentham, south-east by Rugeley, east to
the boundary of Derbyshire, when it turns north-east, form¬
ing the boundary between the two counties, and enters
Derbyshire just below Burton, its length to that point being
50 miles. It only becomes navigable at Burton. Its
chief tributaries on the left bank are the Blythe and the
Dove, the latter already described. On the right bank is
the Sow, with its tributary the Penk, which latter stream
drains the country north-west of the southern ridge of hills,
terminating west of Wolverhampton. The Tame has
already been described.
The new red sandstone is the prevailing geologic for¬
mation throughout the county. Gypsum is quarried in
Needwood Forest, an elevated tract of land in the north¬
east, and in the adjacent parts of the valley of the Dove.
The basalt at Rowley Regis has been noticed in defin¬
ing the boundaries of the river basins. Trap-rock, appa¬
rently part of a thick vertical greenstone dyke, is found
near Walsall.
The coal-fields form, however, the most important min¬
eral feature of the county. The largest is in the south,
extending from near Walsall to Rowley, and from Wolver¬
hampton to within a few miles of Birmingham. The south
part of this coal-field contains a seam of coal 30 feet thick,
of excellent quality. The coal-measures in this basin have
an average aggregate thickness of about 40 feet, and the
ironstone of about 40 inches. Ironstone is found in strata
intervening between the coal-measures in each of the coal¬
fields.
The Pottery coal-field, in the north-west, is triangular in
shape, its greatest length from base to apex being 13 miles,
and 8 or 10 miles along the base. East of this is a small
insulated basin, called the Cheadle coal-field ; and near
Tamworth, on the east of the county, the Warwickshire
coal-field just enters Staffordshire. Colliery operations are
now being energetically conducted near that town. Nearly
the whole of the elevated district of Cannock Chase is
found to contain valuable beds of coal; and this, hitherto a
barren heath, formerly covered with timber, is rapidly be¬
coming intersected by canals and railways, which the
mining operations call into existence. Ironstone is also
found, but is not yet extracted to any large extent. In
3 x
530 STAFFORDSHIRE.
Stafford- the north of the county, near Froghall, valuable beds of
sh.re. limestone and ironstone are worked, and the minerals con-
veyed to the ironworks of South Staffordshire. Copper
and lead are 'mined in the north of the county, in the
neighbourhood of Oakamoor. Salt-springs occur at Shir-
leywitch and Weston, to the west of Colwich.
The climate is colder than in other counties in corre¬
sponding latitudes, and the fall of rain is large, averaging
about 36 inches a year. The highlands, which form part
of the great watershed of the county, intercept the vapours
from the Atlantic, whilst the quantity of snow which falls
upon them tends to reduce the temperature. The arable
land forms about four-fifths of the land under cultivation.
Clay and heavy loams, gravelly and sandy loams, and light
gravel and sand, exist in various proportions. The meadows
along the banks of the rivers are very fertile. Great pro¬
gress has been made within the last few years in the im¬
provement of the breeds of animals and the processes of
agriculture. Lord Hatherton, the lord-lieutenant of the
county, is a most enterprising and successful agriculturist,
and at a very early period adopted steam culture, the use of
the reaping machine, and other improvements. His exten¬
sive farm adjoining his residence at Teddesley, near Penk-
ridge, is a remarkable illustration of pi ofitable reclamation.
Staffordshire occupies an important position amongst the
manufacturing counties of England. The leading branches
of industry are the manufacture of iron and hardwares on
the South Staffordshire, and of earthenware and iron on
the Pottery coal-field. The iron manufacture has been
long carried on in the former district, but has been im¬
mensely extended since coal was rendered applicable to
smelting the ore instead of charcoal, and again since the
hot-blast was employed. The supply of the superior qua¬
lities of ironstone in the district is now, in consequence of
the vast quantities raised, unequal to the demand, and the
supply of native stone is largely supplemented by the
hematite ore from Cumberland, calcined stone from the
Potteries, &c. The opening of the coal-mines on Can¬
nock Chase has greatly increased the supply of fuel. The
works for the manufacture of iron extend over the whole
of the coal-field. In the commencement of 1860 there
were 189 blast furnaces in the district, including a few in
East Worcestershire, of which 135 were in and 54 out of
operation. The average yield of a furnace is about 120
tons of pig-iron per week, which would give an annual
production from the furnaces then in blast of 842,400 tons
a year. Very little is exported in the shape of pig-iron.
In 1826, there were 109 furnaces in the district, of which
90 were in blast, the annual yield being estimated at
197,280 tons. The produce per furnace has been much
increased of late years. The competition of districts where
the minerals can be raised at less expense, and which are
nearer the seaboard, limits the manufacture of iron in
South Staffordshire for export chiefly to the superior kinds.
Kails are not now largely made in the district.
Almost every branch of hardware manufacture is carried
on in South Staffordshire. Locks are produced to a large
extent in Wolverhampton and Willenhall; tin and japan
wares in Wolverhampton and Bilston—this being one of
the most progressive branches in the district—cast hollow
wares at Wolverhampton, West Bromwich, Sedgley, See.;
saddlers’ ironmongery and saddlery at Walsall; ironwork for
coach-building, and wheels and axles for railways, at Wed-
nesbury ; chains and nails at Dudley, and the district to the
south; gas-tubes, Wednesbury and Walsall; gun-locks,
Wednesbury and Darlaston ; and foundries abound in
various parts. There is scarcely an article of ironmongery
which is not produced in the district. The hardware
trades are fully as flourishing as the iron trade. A large
proportion of articles of hardware are got up at the houses
of the workmen, in many cases the various portions of an
article being collected by the factors or merchants from the Stafford-
separate artificers, and put together in their establishments, shire.
They are extensively exported to every part of America, ■v**1'
Australia, the East Indies, China, the Cape, the Mediter¬
ranean, &c.
The other principal manufacturing district is situated on
the Pottery coal-field, on the north-west of the county.
The manufacture of earthenware in that locality, originally
confined to the commoner kind of articles, has been gra¬
dually improved, until now not only is the most exquisite
china produced there, but new kinds, as encaustic tiles,
parian, jasper, majolica, &c., raise the productions of the
district to a distinguished position in art-manufactures.
The pottery art is greatly indebted for its improvement to
the genius and perseverance of Josiah Wedgwood, who
founded the town of Etruria, where his descendants still
carry on the manufacture. A statue of this benefactor of
the Potteries is about to be erected at the railway station,
Stoke ; and an institute, which is to bear his name, for in¬
struction specially in art and science applicable to the
production and ornamentation of the staple manufacture, is
shortly to be established in Burslem, his native town. It
is worthy of remark, that the workmen engaged in the
earthenware manufacture are engaged from year to year,
instead of by the week or fortnight, as in other trades.
The principal towns are Hanley, Burslem, Stoke, Shelton,
Longton, Tunstall, Fenton, Etruria, Dresden, &c.
Within the last few years the iron trade has been rapidly
extending in the Pottery district. In January 1860 there
were 31 blast furnaces, of which all but 8 were in opera¬
tion. The Earl Granville is the proprietor of extensive
mines and ironworks in the Potteries.
The manufacture of ale and beer at Burton-on-Trent is
carried on to a very large and increasing extent, and that
town is rapidly rising into great importance. No branch of
trade in the county is making more remarkable progress.
At Stafford and Stone the manufacture of shoes is exten¬
sively carried on, and hats are made at Newcastle-under-
Lyme. Glass-works exist in various parts, and branches
of cotton manufacture are prosecuted in some of the rural
districts, but several of these manufactories have long been
closed. At Leek, in the north-west of the county, silk
goods are made to a considerable extent.
Staffordshire is admirably supplied with the means of
internal communication. In addition to good roads, there
is a perfect network of canals and railways, which the de¬
velopment of its mineral riches, and the progress of its
manufactures, have rendered necessary. The Grand Trunk
Canal, the work of the distinguished Brindley, connects the
navigation of the Trent and Mersey. It extends from the
junction of the Derwent with the Trent in Derbyshire,
entering the county near Burton to Runcorn Gap, where it
joins the Mersey. Of its entire length of 93 miles, about
50 are in Staffordshire. At Harecastle, west of the Pot¬
teries, it is carried through two tunnels, one of which is
2926^ yards in length. The Staffordshire and Worcester¬
shire Canal connects the Grand Trunk east of Stafford
with the Severn, and thus the communication between the
German Ocean, the Irish Sea, and the Bristol Channel is
completed. The Birmingham Canal, extending from near
that town, traverses the South Staffordshire coal-field, unit¬
ing with the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal south
of Wolverhampton. It is thence extended to Nantwich in
Cheshire, forming a direct line of communication for Bir¬
mingham and South Staffordshire with the Mersey. From
the nature of the district through which the Birmingham
Canal passes, it has been extended in every direction by
branches. A splendid tunnel, in connection with one of
these branches, recently constructed at Netherton near
Dudley, pierces the lofty range of hills which intersect the
thick coal-basin in that locality. By the Coventry and
S T A
Stafford- Oxford Canal, which joins the Grand Trunk Canal near
shire. Alrewas, the latter is connected with the Thames. Other
canals in South Staffordshire connect every part of the dis¬
trict with the main lines, and important extensions on Can¬
nock Chase are in progress.
The county is well supplied with railways. The Grand
Junction line traverses it from Birmingham to near Crewe,
where it enters Cheshire. The Trent Valley, a shorter
route from Rugby to Stafford, passes by Tamworth, Lich¬
field, and Rugeley, south of Cannock Chase ; the Stour
Valley from Birmingham to Bushbury, a mile north of Wol¬
verhampton, where it unites with the Grand Junction, was
formed to obviate the original defect of the latter, which
scarcely touches any of the South Staffordshire towns.
The South Staffordshire Railway extends from Dudley,
crossing Cannock Chase to Barton, a few miles from which
it runs into the Midland. A branch from Walsall extends
to Cannock, on the summit of the central tableland; and a
short line, the Cannock Mineral, opened in the autumn of
1859, connects Cannock with Rugeley, where it unites
with the Trent Valley. Other branches from the South
Staffordshire line are in progress. The Oxford, Worcester,
and Wolverhampton Railway, passing through Dudley, con¬
nects the South Staffordshire line with the south of Eng¬
land and London. The North Staffordshire, constructed
specially for the convenience of the Pottery district, con¬
nects it with the Grand Junction Line at Norton Bridge,
near Stafford, with the Trent Valley at Colwich, with the
Midland at Burton and Willington, and extends to Maccles¬
field on the north-east, and thence along the north of the
county, in an eastern direction, to Uttoxeter, where it
unites with the Midland branch. Besides these, the Great
Western Railway traverses the district between Birming¬
ham and Wolverhampton, extending from that town by
Shrewsbury to Birkenhead.
The county is divided into five hundreds, each of which
is subdivided into north and south. They do not include
the city of Lichfield, which is a county of itself. For par¬
liamentary purposes it is divided into North and South
Staffordshire,eachofwhich returns twomembers. The popu¬
lation in 1851 was 608,716, having doubled in forty years.
The following are the numbers of the population at each of the
decennial periods named :—1801, 254,084; 1811, 308,129;
1821, 361,859; 1831, 425,140; and 1841, 520,867.
The population of the principal towns is as follows:—
Wolverhampton, 49,985; Walsall, 25,680; Wednesbury,
11,914; Stafford, 11,829; Newcastle-under-Lyme, 10,569;
Leek, 8877 ; Burton-on-Trent, 7934.
The parliamentary boroughs, with their population in
1851, are as follow:—Wolverhampton, including Bilston,
Willenhall, Wednesfield, and Sedgley, 119,748; Stoke-
upon-Trent, including the Pottery towns, 84,027; Wal¬
sall, 25,680; Stafford, 11,829; Newcastle-under-Lyme,
10,569; Tamworth, 8,655 ; and Lichfield, 7,012. Except
Walsall, which only returns one member, all these boroughs
return two each, making 17 members for the whole county.
The rapid collection of large populations on the coal¬
fields in the north and south of the county, earning high
wages, has had its usual effect in occasioning much sensual
depravity. This is increased by the influence on the phy¬
sical aspect of these districts of the mining and manufactur¬
ing pursuits. The former cover the surface with the refuse
matter raised from the mines ; whilst the volumes of smoke
emitted by the works darken the whole atmosphere, caus¬
ing the South Staffordshire district to be locally termed “ the
Black Country,” and destroy vegetation. Hence garden
culture, and the enjoyment of natural scenery, are pro¬
hibited to the residents; cleanliness is very difficult; and the
higher classes usually live at a distance beyond the smoke,
thus depriving the working-classes of much of the influence
they would otherwise exert over them. In the recollection
S T A 531
of many persons, bull-baiting and cock-fighting on Sunday Stagnelius
were common in South Staffordshire. Great improvement II
is, however, manifest. Schools have been extensively v a ‘ >
established for the artisans and labourers. Their influence "
is greatly diminished by the temptation which high wages
offer to parents to send their children to work at an early
age; and prizes, contributed by proprietors of the mines
and ironworks in South and North Staffordshire, are given
to encourage protracted attendance at school. At an early
period the active efforts of the Methodists and Dissenters
did much to keep alive religious and moral sentiments ; and
within the last twenty years the Church of England has
made extraordinary exertions to provide for the religious
and educational wants of the population. The census of
1851 showed that there were then 863 places of worship
within the county, containing 304,292 sittings. Of these,
317 places of worship and 163,856 sittings belonged to the
Established Church. The proportion of sittings to popula¬
tion was 50 per cent., of which 26'9 were connected with
the Church of England. As an indication of the progress
made lately, it may be mentioned that the present Bishop
of Lichfield has consecrated 121 new churches since his
elevation to the see in 1843, and very much the greater
part of these were in Staffordshire. The building of
churches in the diocese is assisted by a society; and the
present bishop (Lonsdale) has on three several occasions
of appealing for its support, headed the subscription list
with L.1000. The census of 1851 showed that there were
in the county 1318 day schools, attended by 66,187 scholars,
of which 44,489 were at public, and 21,698 at private schools.
An efficient police force has for many years been estab¬
lished in the county, Wolverhampton, Walsall, and one or
two of the smaller boroughs, having separate forces. The
towns of Wolverhampton and Hanley have been incor¬
porated under the Municipal Reform Act of 1835—the
former directly after its passing, the latter in 1859. The
other municipal boroughs are Stafford, Lichfield, Tam¬
worth, Walsall, and Newcastle-under-Lyme. Most of
the towns now possess local boards of health, under the
Public Health Act of 1848, or of Commissioners; and pav¬
ing, lighting, and sewerage are better attended to than they
were. In both the south and north coal-fields, the sinking
of the ground, and the destruction of buildings, roads, &c.,
from the mining excavations, is common. South Stafford¬
shire was last year supplied with water by works inter¬
cepting streams and springs at Lichfield, whence the water
is raised to the summit of Cannock Chase. Wolverhamp¬
ton is supplied mainly from surface water from the south,
and by borings into the red sandstone, the water having to
be pumped to the level of the town. There is also a water-
work in North Staffordshire.
In the Roman period Staffordshire was inhabited by the
Cornavii. The Roman roads, Watling Street, Ryknield
Street, and Via Devana (Chester Road), crossed the county.
At Wall (Etocetum) Roman remains are extensively found,
and at Rowley Regis and other places. In the Saxon
period the county formed a part of Mercia; and Tam¬
worth was the place of residence, and of the death, of the
celebrated Ethelfleda. The beautiful cathedral at Lich¬
field occupies the site of a church erected as early as the
seventh century. A part of its south side has been ad¬
mirably restored in stone within the last fifteen years; and
the interior of the choir is now being restored, at a cost of
about L. 10,000, under the direction of Mr G. G. Scott.
Croxden Abbey, in a small valley between Cheadle and
Uttoxeter, is a fine old ruin.
STAGNELIUS, Erik Johan. See Scandinavian
Literature.
STAHL, Georg Ernst, an eminent German chemist,
was born at Anspach, on the 21st of October 1660, and
chosen professor of medicine at Halle, when a university
532
S T A
S T A
Staindrop was founded in that city in 1694. The excellency of his
H lectures while he filled "that chair, the importance of his
Staines. various publications, and his extensive practice, soon raised
his reputation to a very great height. He received an invi¬
tation to Berlin in 1716, which he accepted, and was made
counsellor of state and physician to the king. Stahl is
without doubt one of the greatest men of which the annals
of medicine can boast: his name marks the commencement
of a new and more illustrious era in chemistry. He was
the author of the doctrine of phlogiston, which, though now
completely overturned by the discoveries of Lavoisier and
others, was not without its use, as it served to combine
the scattered fragments of former chemists into a system,
and as it gave rise to more accurate experiments and a
more scientific view of the subject, to which many of the
subsequent discoveries were owing. This theory main¬
tained its ground for more than half a century, and was
received and supported by some of the most eminent men
which Europe has produced—a sufficient proof of the in¬
genuity and the abilities of its author. He was the author
also of a theory of medicine, founded upon the notions
which he entertained of the absolute dominion of mind
over body ; in consequence of which he affirmed, that every
muscular action is a voluntary act of the mind, whether
attended with consciousness or not. This theory he and
his followers carried a great deal too far; but the advices,
at least, which he gives to attend to the state of the mind
of the patient are worthy of the attention of physicians.
“ Stahl,” says Dr Cullen, “ has explicitly founded his sys¬
tem on the supposition, that the power of nature, so much
talked of, is entirely in the rational soul. He supposes that,
upon many occasions, the soul acts independently of the
state of the body; and that, without any physical necessity
arising from that state, the soul, purely in consequence of
its intelligence, perceiving the tendency of noxious powers
threatening, or of disorders anyways arising in the system,
immediately excites such motions in the body as are suited
to obviate the hurtful or pernicious consequences W'hich
might otherwise take place. Many of my readers may
think it was hardly necessary for me to take notice of a
system founded upon so fanciful a hypothesis ; but there is
often so much seeming appearance of intelligence and de¬
sign in the operations of the animal economy, that many
eminent persons, as Perrault in France, Nichols and Mead
in England, Porterfield and Simson in Scotland, and Gau-
bius in Holland, have very much countenanced the same
opinion, and it is therefore certainly entitled to some regard.”
(Cullen’s First Lines of the Practice of Physic, vol. i., p. 12.)
Stahl died in 1734, in the seventy-fifth year of his age.
His principal works are, Experimenta et Observationes
Chymicce et Physicce, Berlin, 1731, 8vo ; Dissertationes
Medicce, Halle, 2 vols., 4to; Theoria Medica vera, 1737 ;
4to; Opusculum Chymico-physico-medicum, 1740, 4to;
A Treatise on Sulphur, both Inflammable and Fixed, writ¬
ten in German ; Negotium Otiosum, Halle, 1720, 4to—it
is in this treatise chiefly that he establishes his system con¬
cerning the action of the soul upon the body ; Fundamenta
Chymice Pogmaticce et Experimentalis, Nurnberg, 1747,
3 vols., 4to; A Treatise on Salts, written in German.
Haller, in his Bibliotheca, gives 250 works which were
either written, edited, or superintended by Stahl.
STAINDROP, a market-town of England, in the
county and 16 miles S.S.W. of Durham, in a beautiful
valley on a branch of the Tees. It consists of one long
street, and contains an old and handsome church, four Dis¬
senting places of worship, and several schools. In the
vicinity there are lead-works. Pop. 2447.
STAINES, a market-town of England, in the county of
Middlesex, on the left bank of the Thames, 18 miles W.
by S. of London. It has a market-house, places of worship
belonging to the Established Church, and to Methodists,
Independents, Baptists, and Quakers; a bank; several Staircase
schools; flour-mills ; and gas-works. Pop. 2577. ||
STAIRCASE. See Architecture. Stamford.
STALEY BRIDGE, a market-town of England, in
Lancashire, on both sides of the Tame, 8 miles E. by N. of
Manchester, and 185 N.W. by N. of London. It is built
on ground which slopes down to each side of the river, and
consists of three principal streets, one of which is old and
somewhat irregular; while the others are straight and
regular, lined, for the most part, with brick-houses two
storeys high. As the town is almost entirely modern, and
owes its importance chiefly to the cotton manufacture,
there are few buildings of much interest or antiquity; the
oldest of them being an octagonal church, which occupies
a prominent position on a rock overhanging the river.
There is also a market-house, which was built in 1832, at
a great expense. Besides the Established church, various
sects of Methodists, the Independents, Baptists, and Roman
Catholics have places of worship here. There are several
schools, a mechanics’ institute, and a savings bank. The
town contains nineteen establishments for spinning cotton-
yarn and weaving calicoes, which employ in all about 9500
hands ; some of the single factories being very large, and
employing from 1000 to 1500. Woollen cloth is also made
at Staleybridge, and there are brass and iron foundries,
brick-works, collieries, and quarries. Markets are held
weekly, and fairs twice a year. Pop. 20,760.
STALIMENE. See Lemnos.
STAMENS. See Botany.
STAMFORD, a parliamentary borough and market-
town of England, in the county and 39 miles S. of Lin¬
coln, on a pleasant slope above the Welland, 89 miles N.
by W. of London. The river is crossed by an old stone
bridge of five, and a modern one of three arches. The town
is old and straggling, consisting of houses, substantially
built of freestone from the neighbouring quarries, and
roofed with slate. There are five parish churches, most of
which are old and interesting buildings. All Saints, which
was built in 1465, is partly early English and partly perpen¬
dicular, and has a fine crocketted spire, and several old
monuments. St George’s church, rebuilt in 1450, is a
plain building, with some portions very ancient; and that
of St John the Baptist, which is about the same age, has a
fine embattled tower, and some good carving in wood. St
Mary’s dates as far back as the thirteenth century ; and
St Michael’s has been recently rebuilt on the site of one
still older. In the church of St Martin, a fine building in
the late perpendicular style, the remains of the great Lord
Burleigh lie in the family vault; and a handsome monu¬
ment has been erected to his memory. Of the Benedic¬
tine priory of St Leonards part of the nave is still standing,
used now as a barn ; and there is also to be seen the west
gate of a Carmelite friary to the north-east of the town.
Stamford once had, besides these, several other ecclesias¬
tical buildings, of which few or no remains now exist.
The grammar-school occupies part of the old church of St
Paul, a building in the Norman and early English styles;
and near it is a Norman gateway, which ancifently belonged
to Brasenose College, a monastic school now no longer in
existence. The grammar-school, which was founded in
1530, has an endowment of about L.580 annually. Stam¬
ford has also a blue-coat school, two free schools, national
schools, and an infant school. There are places of worship
for independents, Roman Catholics, Wesleyan and Re¬
formed Methodists. All these, as well as the large town-
hall, market-house, and jail, are comparatively modern
buildings. The charitable institutions of Stamford are
very numerous. There are several hospitals for different
classes of the poor; alms-houses, establishments for lend¬
ing money to tradesmen, and for apprenticing poor boys,
and several others. A literary and scientific institution was
S T A
Stammer- established here in 1838, with a library, museum, and
ing. lecture-room. There are also in Stamford an assembly-
room, a theatre, and public baths. The town contains
several large breweries, and a manufactory of agricultural
implements. Malt is also made to some extent, but on
the whole Stamford is not an important manufacturing
town. It has an extensive retail trade with the neighbour¬
ing country, which is facilitated not only bv the connection
of the town by railways with all parts of the country, but
by its situation on the Welland, which is navigable up to
the town for boats and barges. The borough is governed
by a mayor, six aldermen, and eighteen councillors, and is
represented in Parliament by two members. Stamford is a
very old town, and is mentioned in history soon after the
departure of the Romans from Britain. The Piets and
Scots, who at that time greatly harassed the country by
their invasions, were defeated here by the Britons anil
Saxons in 449. At a later period it w'as in the possession
of the Danes, who lost it in 922 to Edw-ard the Elder; but
afterwards recovered it, and remained in possession until
1041, though it was taken from them for a time by Ed¬
mund I. in 942. About this time it had risen to be a
place of some size, and was a market-town and king’s
borough. In the twelfth century it was inhabited by many
wealthy Jews, who were plundered and maltreated by the
Crusaders setting out for the Holy Land. Many of the
English sovereigns visited the town, and by some of them
parliaments or councils were held here. It was at one
time fortified and defended by a castle, but it was much
injured by the Lancasterian party, who captured it during
the Wars of the Roses, and the castle was demolished by
Richard III. In 1572 Lord Burleigh, who was lord of
the manor, procured the settlement here of some Flemish
Protestant refugees, silk and serge weavers, and thus con¬
ferred a great benefit on the town. Pop of the borough
(1851) 8933.
STAMMERING is a term which has been loosely em¬
ployed to denote all kinds of defective utterance; neither
is any distinction generally made between the terms stam¬
mering and stuttering, but they are used synonymously to
designate a difficulty in uttering or in articulating without
interruption certain sounds, or an absolute inability to do
so. The Greeks designated these affections somewhat
indiscriminately by the words—psellismos, faltering ; irau-
lismos, lisping; asapheia, indistinctness; ischnophonia,
feebleness of voice ; and battarismos, stuttering. Among
the Romans a stammerer, or any one having an impedi¬
ment of speech, was called balbus ; a lisper, blcesus ; and
Cicero uses the term hcesitantia linguce. The terms stam¬
mering and stuttering, properly used, designate kinds, and
not degrees of the evil. The same confusion exists in the
use of these terms as in the use of the words articulation
and pronunciation, which also have been erroneously re¬
garded as synonymous.
Stammering and stuttering, as contra-distinguished, may
be regarded—the former as mainly an organic or sympto¬
matic, the latter as chiefly an idiopathic or functional affec¬
tion. Stammering may be defined as a difficulty in enun¬
ciating, or an inability to enunciate certain elementary
sounds. This difficulty does not, as is frequently asserted,
occur only in the pronunciation of consonants, but extends
also to the vowels. Stuttering, on the other hand, consists
chiefly in the difficulty fluently to enunciate words and sen¬
tences. The great variety of defects which constitute stam¬
mering arises naturally from as great a variety of causes ;
which causes may be either organic or merely functional.
Among organic causes may be enumerated harelip, cleft
palate, abnormal length of the uvula, inflammation or en¬
largement of the tonsils (a deficiency or. disarrangement of
teeth), tumours of the tongue or in the buccal cavity, &c.
When the organs are in a normal state, and the person is
s T A 533
unable to place them in the proper position for producing Stammer-
the desired effect, the cause is functional. General debi- ing-
lity, paralysis and spasms of the tongue, glottis, lips, &c.,
owing to a general or local affection of the nerves of the
vocal organs; bad habit, imitation, &c.; are some of the
functional causes of stammering. The cause of the im¬
perfection of the vowel-sounds must be sought in the re¬
spiratory organs, the larynx, or the buccal cavity. The
sounds may be deficient in timbre, from affection of the
vocal ligaments ; or the larynx being in a healthy condition,
the tone may be altered in the buccal or nasal cavities ;
while the vowels may be ill formed from misemployment
or defective association of the various organs upon which
articulation depends. The cause of the defective enuncia¬
tion of consonants must be sought in the organs of articu¬
lation, although it may be found to proceed sometimes from
affection or misuse of the respiratory organs or the larynx.
The tongue is frequently too large for the buccal cavity,
in which case most of the speech-sounds will be affected;
while individual muscles often lose their contractility.
Stuttering, as distinguished from stammering, has been
described as consisting, in a momentary difficulty, in pro¬
nouncing, or inability to pronounce, certain syllables or
words. The stoppage of sound may take place at the
second or third syllable, but generally occurs at tbe first.
The stutterer usually finds no difficulty in articulating the
elementary sounds of which speech is composed (in which
respect he differs from the stammerer); but his affection
becomes apparent when he attempts to form syllables and
words. His greatest difficulty is experienced in the pro¬
nunciation of the explosives K, T, P, and their medials G,
D, B, or M ; because in articulating these elements, the
buccal cavity requires to be closed, and immediately re¬
opened for the following vowel. Instead of doing so, the
stutterer allows the respective organs to remain in the
same position longer than is necessary, and compresses the
cavity in trying to force out the sound. The difficulty of
the stutterer is much less when the word begins with a
vowel. The opening of the glottis, in the transition from
the explosive to the vowel, is in fact the chief and most dis¬
tressing difficulty of the stutterer ; and it is this which causes
him to repeat the words or syllables until articulation is
effected. Stuttering, however, is not confined to the con¬
sonants, but may also affect all vowel sounds. It is a remark¬
able fact, that most stutterers can sing without difficulty;
the reason being, that in singing, the continuous action of
the vocal organs is not so frequently interrupted ; and con¬
sequently singing is less difficult than speech, in which a
constant change is demanded in the position of the vocal
organs. The causes of stuttering may be distinguished as
predisposing, exciting, and proximate. As belonging to
the two former may be enumerated—abnormal irritability
of the nervous system ; mental emotions ; affections of the
brain and spinal cord ; solitary vices ; mimicry and involun¬
tary imitation. The proximate cause of stuttering has
been asserted by Drs Muller, Arnott, and others, to be the
spasmodic closure of the glottis. Such a theory is not
however tenable; the glottis is rarely or ever per se at
fault, and the cause must be sought for, either in those
muscles which regulate the inspiration and expiration of
the breath, or in the organs of articulation. If the action
were strictly spasmodic, the speaker would be unable to
arrest it; whereas all stutterers possess this power. With
persons thus affected, expiration is frequently retarded, and
all the muscles concerned in vocalization and articulation
are thrown into inordinate action. In some cases the
tongue may be seen flying about the mouth, and vaguely
endeavouring to regulate itself for the articulation of a par¬
ticular word; while the other organs either sympathise or
are in a dormant state. This derangement gradually ex¬
tends to the larynx and organs of respiration, until the
534
STAMMERING.
Stammer- whole of the vocal organs are influenced and all voluntary
ing. control is lost. When a person thus affected attempts to
sneak, you see the eyes open and close spasmodically, the
face redden, the head jerk backwards and forwards, the
veins of the’ neck swell, the respiratory muscles act spas¬
modically, the arms and legs even sympathise with the
general contortion ; while the heart palpitates violently
(sometimes intermittently), till, with a violent voluntary
effort of the whole muscular system, the word explodes. In
less severe cases, the vocal organs are alone affected. In
such you may see the lips closing and opening, the under-
jaw and tongue working at random ; while the air enters
the lungs with a croup-like sound, and is immediately ex¬
pelled again ; until at last the stutterer feels that his organs
are in the right position, and the word is articulated. In
other cases, the facial muscles and all the vocal organs are
in a quiescent state, and the ordinary observer could not
discover that any effort at articulation was being made; a
slight spasm of the eyelid being the only external sign of
the great internal struggle. The forms which stuttering
assumes are so varied that no two cases are alike. Stut¬
terers may, however, be classed under two heads the
psychical and the physical—a classification which has not
often been employed. I he psychical or mental stutterer
is acted upon by every external influence both mental and
physical; while on the physical stutterer external in¬
fluences have little or no effect. His speech is alike on all
occasions, uninfluenced by the places in which, or the per¬
sons before whom he is speaking; whereas these circum¬
stances would exercise the greatest possible influence upon
the former class. In psychical stuttering the affection is^
sometimes intermittent, disappearing for various periods of
time, and increasing or diminishing according to the mental
and physical condition of the sufferer; all pleasurable men-^
tal emotions tend to diminish the affection ; while those of
an opposite character produce a contrary effect. I he phy¬
sical influences liable to increase the stutter are change¬
able or damp weather, fatigue, dissipation, tobacco, and
alcoholic liquors. These last, however, not unfrequently
produce fluency so long as the sufferer is under theii in¬
fluence, but have a corresponding reaction. Cheerful
society, healthy mental occupation, athletic sports, and
constant observance of the universal law, ‘‘lo be tem¬
perate in all things,” are the physical influences which tend
to diminish the affection. It may be laid down as a general
principle, that everything which tends to lessen the volun¬
tary control increases the stuttering, and vice versd. The
statistics respecting the number of persons suffering from
impediments of speech are very unsatisfactory. Some
writers assume that there is about 1 person in 5000 who
stammers; while others believe that there are 2 in 1000.
Colombat, who made the former calculation, acknowledged
that he only reckoned those who were suffering under a
severe impediment. Colombat is possibly right as to the
number of bad stammerers, but it is equally true that theie
are nearly 2 in 1000 who suffer from affections which may
be included under the general term stammering. The
number of severe cases of stammering in the^world would
thus be 257,200; and the entire number, 2,572,000j thus
would give to Great Britain—of the former cases, 5,498 ;
and a total of 54,978. The number of females who stam¬
mer is much less than that of males. Some authors main¬
tain that there are only 5 females out of every 100 stam¬
merers. The writer believes that the average is about 10
per cent: his practice has given a proportion of 12£ pei
cent. The reason why females should stammer less than
males is by no means certain.
To the anomalous forms that stammering assumes may
probably be traced the variety of remedies that have been
employed for its removal. Amongst other remedies pro¬
posed by scientifie writers are the following:—Colombat Stammer-
employed rhythm to produce harmony between the nervous ^ ing.
action and the organs of articulation. Bertrand recom-
mends motions of the fingers and toes, and the introduction
of foreign substances into the mouth. Dr Rullier con¬
siders that the cause of all stammering must be sought for
in the brain, and his remedies correspond. Professor I tar d
uses a gold or ivory fork about an inch in length, which is
to be applied by its convex surface to the alveolar arch of
the lower jaw. Dr Serres advises the patient to shake the
words out by movements of the arms. Dr M. Hall advises
speaking in a chanting voice. Dr Arnott would prefix the
vowel e to every word, and thus connect words together.
Mrs Leigh of New York made her patients put the tongue
at the top of the palate. This plan was also adopted by
M. Malbouche and by Mr John Broster. Professor Dif-
fenbach performed upon eighty persons the operation of
cutting a transverse wedge out of the tongue, bometimes
one of these remedies was in public favour and sometimes
another; but all failed to remove stammering on physiolo¬
gical principles. Such a state of public opinion afforded,
however, a harvest to quacks and charlatans, each of whom
had some secret panacea. One plan was to enforce talking
with the teeth closed; another to place bits of India-rubber
under the tongue; another advised chanting; another
speaking through the nose ; another drawling; another the
full inflation of the lungs; while another set of professors
cut away tonsils, uvula, and portions of the tongue. The
Rev. C. Kingsley, in writing of the various systems says:
“ Meanwhile the true method of cure, or at least its elements, had
suggested itself to the late Mr Hunt. He found out by patient
comparing of health with unhealth, a fact which seems to have
escaped all before him—that the abuse neither of the tongue, nor of
any single organ, is the cause of stammering—that the whole malady
is so complicated that it is very difficult to perceive what organs
are abused at any given moment—quite impossible to discover what
organ first went wrong and set the rest wrong. For nature
in the perpetual struggle to return to a goal to which she knows
not the path, is ever trying to correct one morbid action by another,
and to expel vice by vice ; ever trying fresh experiments of mis¬
speaking, and failing, alas ! in all: so that the stammer may take
very different forms from year to year ; and the boy who began to
stammer with the lips, may go on to stammer with the tongue,
then with the jaw, and last, and worst of all, with the breath ,
and in after-life try to rid himself of an abuse by trying in alterna¬
tion all the other three. To these four abuses—of the lips, of the
tongue, of the jaw, and of the breath—old Mr Hunt reduced his
puzzling mass of morbid phenomena; and I, for one, believe his
division to be sound and exhaustive.”1
From this it will be seen that the great object must be
first to discover the true cause of the stammer. To do
this with any success, much experience and patient labour
are necessary. When the cause has been ascertained, we
must return to nature through art, and teach the stammerer
to do consciously, what the healthy subject does uncon¬
sciously ; but as the misuse of organs produces weakness,
considerable time is often necessary to restore the vocal
apparatus to healthy action. Great attention must likewise
be paid to the economy of nature, to prevent that waste of
nervous energy which generally accompanies psellismus.
The art of speaking must be really learned, and the same
control gained over the vocal organs as the musician has
over his mechanical instrument. The stammerer cannot,
however, be treated like a mere machine, for his organs
are under the influence of an ever-varying agent- the
mind. The physically abnormal condition in psellismus
reacts most powerfully on the mind, as is proved by the
curious phenomena that most stammerers can read aloud
when alone, can talk fluently if in the dark, or if they wear
a mask ; and can recite or speak in an assumed tone
without difficulty. The peculiar disposition of the mind
must be studied, and every means used to rouse it into
1 See Frazer’* Magazine for July 1859, “ The Irrationale of Speech.
S T A
Stanhope, vigilant and vigorous control over the vocal apparatus. The
same authority before quoted savs :—
“ Of course the very condition of cure—the conscious use of the
organs of speech—makes it depend on the power of self-observa¬
tion, on the attention, on the determination, on the general intel¬
lectual power, in fact, of the patient; and a stupid or volatile lad
will give weary work.”
The sudden improvement frequently produced on first
commencing treatment, induces the belief that the enemy
is conquered. A perfect cure, however, can only be
effected after much diligent application, and those cases
which are quickly cured, are the most liable to relapse.
The advice given by Dr J. Mason Warren, the highest
authority on this subject in the United States, is most
valuable. He says :—
“ Seek out a person who has experience in the treatment of im¬
pediments of speech. Place him under his care, and if he is benefited
do not remove him and think to perfect the cure yourself. Three
months is a very short time for him to remain under the superin¬
tendence of an instructor ; six months is better, and where it is
practicable, he should remain a year. If this interferes with other
studies, it is of no consequence ; he will derive benefits enough to
compensate for the loss. The age I should fix upon for this trial
should be from eight to twelve. At this period the loss of a
year’s study may be a gain. If he meets there others who are
affected as he is, it is all the better; he will no longer look upon
his case as a peculiar one ; and if he sees others whose impediments
are worse than his, it will give him additional courage.
“ Whatever method may be employed for the relief of this
affection, no permanent advantage will be gained in the majority
of cases unless resolutely persevered in for one or two years.”
The writer cannot give his unqualified adherence to the
last paragraph ; but he believes, with Dr Warren, that the
longer the treatment is continued, the more likely is the
cure to be perfect and permanent. (j. H—T.)
STANHOPE, Philip Dormer, the fourth liar/ of
Chesterfield, was born at London, on the 22d of Sep¬
tember 1694. He was the son of Philip, the third Earl,
by his wife, Lady Elizabeth Savile, daughter of George,
Marquis of Halifax. At the age of eighteen he was sent
to Trinity Hall, Cambridge, where he studied assiduously,
and, according to his own account, became an absolute
pedant. In 1714 he quitted the university, and travelled
on the continent, where a familiarity with good company
soon convinced him he was totally mistaken in almost all
his notions, and an attentive study of the air, manner, and
address of people of fashion soon polished a man whose
prominent desire was to please, and who, as it afterwards
appeared, valued exterior accomplishments beyond any
other human acquirement. While Lord Stanhope, he ob¬
tained an early seat in Parliament, and in 1722 succeeded
to his father’s estate and titles. In 1728 and in 1745 he
was appointed ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary
to Holland. This high character he supported with the
greatest dignity, serving his own country, and gaining the
esteem of the States-General. Upon his return from Hol¬
land, he was sent as lord-lieutenant to Ireland, and, during
his administration there, gave general satisfaction to all
parties. He left Dublin in 1746, and in October suc¬
ceeded the Earl of Harrington as secretary of state, in
which post he officiated until February 6, 1748. In 1752,
being seized with a deafness which incapacitated him for
the pleasures of society, he from that time led a private and
retired life, amusing himself with books and his pen, in
particular, he engaged largely as a contributor to a periodical
called The World, in which his contributions have a dis¬
tinguished degree of excellence. He died on the 24th of
March 1773, leaving a character for wit and abilities that
had few' equals. He distinguished himself by his eloquence
in parliament on many important occasions, of which w e
have a characteristic instance of his own relating. He was
an active promoter of the bill for altering the style, and on
this occasion, as he himself writes in one of his letters to
S T A 535
his son, he made so eloquent a speech in the house that Stanhope,
every one was pleased, and said he had made the whole 's—
very clear to them, “ when,” says he, “ God knows, I had
not even attempted it. I could just as soon have talked
Celtic or Sclavonian to them as astronomy, and they would
have understood me full as well.” Lord Macclesfield, who
was considered as a great mathematician, and who had a
principal hand in framing the bill, spoke afterwards, with
all the clearness that a thorough knowledge of the subject
could dictate, but not having a flow' of words equal to Lord
Chesterfield, the latter gained the applause which was
more justly due to the former. He left no issue by his
lady, Melusina de Schulemburg, Countess of Walsingham,
but he had a natural son, Philip Stanhope, Esq., whose
education was for many years a close object of his atten¬
tion, and who was afterwards envoy-extraordinary at the
court of Dresden, but died before him. The high character
which Lord Chesterfield supported during life received no
small injury soon after his death, from a fuller display of it
by his own hand. After Lord Chesterfield’s death, Mr
Stanhope’s widow published a series of letters, written by
the father to the son, filled with instructions suitable to the
different gradations of the young man’s life to whom they
were addressed. These letters contain many fine observa¬
tions on mankind and rules of conduct, but it is observable
that he lays a greater stress on exterior accomplishments
and address than on intellectual qualifications and sincerity,
and allows a much greater latitude to fashionable pleasures
than good morals will justily. Lord Mahon, now Earl
Stanhope, who is the last and the most correct editor that
Chesterfield’s works have received (5 vols. 1853), says re¬
garding his character—“ The defects of Chesterfield were
neither slight nor few, and the more his contemporaries
excused them, lost as they were in the lustre of his fame,
the less should they be passed over by posterity. A want
of generosity, dissimulation carried beyond justifiable
bounds, a passion for deep play, and a contempt for abstract
science, whenever of no practical or immediate use, may, I
think, not unjustly be ranked among his errors.” These
Letters to his Son appeared in 1774, in 2 vols. 4to. This
publication was followed by a collection of his Miscellane¬
ous Works, 1777, 2 vols. 4to. A third volume was added
in 1778.
Stanhope, Charles, third Earl, born in 1753, was the
eldest son of Philip, the second Earl, a man equally re¬
markable for his mathematical talents, and his liberal poli¬
tical opinions. The subject of this notice succeeded to
the peerage in 1786. By his first marriage he became the
brother-in-law of Pitt, and on the mother’s side he was
closely allied to the Scottish Earls of Haddington. By this
marriage he had three daughters, one of them Lady Hester
Stanhope, who gained so great a notoriety by retiring to
the Syrian deserts and fixing her residence at Djoun,
among the mountains of Lebanon, where she died in 1839.
This eccentric but public-spirited and most inventive man,
while he divided his attention among a variety of inquiries,
sufficient to have prevented excellence in any, had the rare
merit of excelling in several most important pursuits,
while in more than one he has bequeathed to the world
discoveries that have proved most extensively useful. In
politics he was a decided Whig, an assertor of religious
toleration, and of non-intervention in the internal affairs of
foreign states. Sometimes, however, he carried out the
principles of his party with a boldness which other minds
scrupled to follow, and in the latter years of his parlia¬
mentary life, Earl Stanhope used to be called “ the minority
of one.” His political works were a refutation of Price’s
scheme of the Sinking Fund, an answer to Burke’s Reflec¬
tions on the French Revolution, and an Essay on Juries.
But his inventions in mechanical science are those by which
he has secured the gratitude of posterity. They are too
536 S T A
Stanhope, many to be here so much as completely enumerated. The
principal of them} the Stanhope press, has been described
jpj ^rtmlg Printing, where notice has also been taken
of his exertions for improving the process of stereotype
printing. He was an early student of Franklin’s theory of
electricity, to which he contributed several valuable obser¬
vations. Another of his most useful inventions was one
for improving the locks of canals, and more curious ones
were his two calculating machines, one of which performed
addition and subtraction, the other multiplication and divi¬
sion. He died in 1816.
Stanhope, George, an eminent divine of the Church of
England, was born at Hartshorn, in Derbyshire, in the
year 1660. His father was rector of that parish, vicar of
St Margaret’s at Leicester, and chaplain to the Earls of
Chesterfield and Clare. His grandfather, Dr George
Stanhope, was chaplain to James I. and Charles I., had the
chancellorship of York, where he was also a canon residen¬
tiary, held a prebend, and was rector of Weldrake, in that
county. For his loyalty he was driven from his home with
eleven children, and died in 1664. The son was sent to
school, first at Uppingham, in Rutland, then at Leicester;
he was afterwards removed to Eton, and thence chosen to
King’s College, in Cambridge, in the place of W. Cleaver.
He took the degree of A.B. in 1681 and of A.M. in 1685,
was elected one of the syndics for the University of Cam¬
bridge, in the business of Alban Francis, 1687, minister of
Quoi, near Cambridge, and vice-proctor, 1688. He was
that year preferred to the rectory of Tring, in Hertford¬
shire, which after some time he quitted. In 1689 he was
presented to the vicarage of Lewisham, in Kent, by Lord
Dartmouth, to whom he had been chaplain, as well as tutor
to his son. He was also appointed chaplain to King
William and Queen Mary, and continued to enjoy that
honour under Queen Anne. He commenced D.D. July
5, 1697, performing all the exercises required to that de¬
gree publicly and with great applause. He was made vicar
of Deptford in 1703, succeeded Dr Hooper as dean of
Canterbury the same year, and was thrice chosen prolocu¬
tor of the lower house of convocation. His uncommon
diligence and industry, assisted by his excellent parts, en¬
riched him with a large stock of polite, solid, and useful
learning. His discourses from the pulpit were equally
pleasing and profitable, a beautiful intermixture ot the
clearest reasoning with the purest diction, attended with all
the graces of a just elocution. In him were happily united
the good Christian, the solid divine, and the fine gentle¬
man. His conversation was polite and delicate, grave
without preciseness, facetious without levity. His piety
was real and rational, his charity great and universal, fruit¬
ful in acts of mercy and in all good works. He died
March 18, 1728, aged sixty-eight years, and was buried in
the chancel of the church at Lewisham. 1 he dean was
twice married, first to Olivia Cotton, by whom he had one
son and four daughters. His second lady, who was sister
to Sir Charles Wager, survived him, dying October 1,
1738, aged about fifty-four. One of the dean’s daughters
was married to a son of Bishop Burnet. Stanhope’s writings,
which are considered as a treasure of piety and devotion,
are—A Paraphrase and Comment upon the Epistles and
Gospels, 1705, 4 vols., 8vo ; Sermons at Boyle’s Lectures,
1706, 4to; Fifteen Sermons, 1700, 8vo; Tioelve Sermons
on Several Occasions, 1727, 8vo; A Translation of
Thomas & Kempis, 1696, 8vo; Epictetus’s Morals, with
Simplicius’s Comment, and the Life of Epictetus, 1700,
8vo; Parson’s Christian Directory, 1716, 8vo; Pious
Breathings, from the works of St Augustine, with select
contemplations from St Anselm and St Bernard ; Boche-
foucault’s Maxims, 1706, 8vo ; A Funeral Sermon on Mr
Richard Sure, bookseller, 1724, two editions, 4to ; Twenty
Sermons, published singly between the years 1692 and
S T A
1724 ; Private Prayers for every Day in the Week, and Stanislas
for the several Parts of each Day, translated from the Leszczyn-
Greek Devotions of Bishop Andrews, with Additions, ski-
1730. In his translations it is well known Dr Stanhope
did not confine himself to a strict and literal version; he
took the liberty of paraphrasing, explaining, and improving
upon his author.
STANISLAS LESZCZYNSKI, or Leszinski, King of
Poland, was born at Lemberg, the capital of Red Russia,
on the 20th of October 1677. His father was a Polish
nobleman, distinguished by his rank and the important
offices which he held, but still more by his firmness and
courage. In 1704 Stanislas was sent ambassador by the
Assembly of Warsaw to Charles XII. of Sweden, who had
conquered Poland. He was at that time twenty-seven
years old, was general of Great Poland, and had been
ambassador-extraordinary to the Grand Signior in 1699.
Charles was so delighted with the frankness and sincerity
of his deportment, and with the firmness and sweetness
which appeared in his countenance, that he offered him the
crown of Poland, and ordered him to be crowned at
Warsaw in 1705. He accompanied Charles into Saxony,
where a treaty was concluded with King Augustus in 1705
by which that prince resigned the crown and acknowledged
Stanislas King of Poland. The new monarch remained in
Saxony with Charles till 1707, when they returned into
Poland and attacked the Russians, wdio were obliged to
evacuate that kingdom in 1708. But Charles being de¬
feated by Peter the Great in 1709, Augustus returned into
Poland, and being assisted by a Russian army, obliged
Stanislas to retire first into Sweden and afterwards into
Turkey. Soon after, he took up his residence at Weissen-
burg, a town in Alsace. Augustus despatched Sum, his
envoy, to France to complain of this, but the Duke of
Orleans, who was then regent, returned this answer:—
“ Tell your king that France has always been the asylum
of unhappy princes.” Stanislas lived in obscurity till 1725,
when Louis XV. espoused the Princess Mary, his daughter.
Upon the death of King Augustus in 1733 he returned to
Poland, in hopes of remounting the throne of that king¬
dom. A large party declared for him, but his competitor,
the young Elector of Saxony, being supported by the Em¬
peror Charles VI. and the Empress of Russia, was declared
king, though the majority was against him. Dantzig, to
which Stanislas had retired, was quickly taken, and with
great difficulty the unfortunate prince made his escape in
disguise, after hearing that the Russians had set a price
upon his head. In 1736, when peace was concluded be¬
tween the Emperor and France, it was agreed that Stanis¬
las should abdicate the throne, but that he should be ac¬
knowledged King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania,
and continue to bear these titles during life; that all his
effects and those of the Queen, his spouse, should be re¬
stored; that an amnesty should be declared in Poland for
all that was past, and that every person should be restored
to his possessions, rights, and privileges; that the Elector of
Saxony should be acknowledged King of Poland by all the
powers who acceded to the treaty; that Stanislas should
be put in peaceable possession of the duchies of Lorraine
and Bar, but that immediately after his death those duchies
should be united for ever to the crown of France. In
Lorraine, Stanislas succeeded a race of princes w ho were
beloved and regretted, and his subjects found their ancient
sovereigns revived in him. He then tasted the pleasure
which he had so long desired, the pleasure of making men
happy. He assisted his new subjects; he embellished
Nancy and Luneville; he formed useful establishments;
he founded colleges, and built hospitals. He was engaged
in these noble employments, when an accident occasioned
his death. His night-gown caught fire, and burned him so
severely before it could be extinguished, that he was seized
S T A
Stanisla- with a fever, and died the 23d of February 1766. He was
wow a protector of the arts and sciences. He wrote several
li works of philosophy, politics, and morality, which were col-
Stanley. ]ec(-e(j au[} published at Paris in 1763, in 4 vols. 8vo.,
— under the title of Oeuvres du Philosophe Bienfaisant. An
octavo volume, ornamented with engravings, was published
in 1825, under the title of CEuvres choisies de Stanislas,
Hoi de Pologne, Due de Lorraine et de Bar, to which an
historical notice was prefixed by Madame de Saint-Ouen.
STANISLAWOW, or Stanislac, a town of the Aus¬
trian Empire, in Galicia, capital of a circle, on the Bistritza,
71 miles S.S.E. of Lemberg. It is strongly fortified, and con¬
tains a castle, now used as a military hospital, three hand¬
some churches, a gymnasium, normal seminary, and other
schools. Here also is a column, erected in 1838 in honour
of the late Emperor Francis. Stanislawow is the seat of
public offices and courts of law; it is generally well built,
and has an active trade in the produce of the surrounding
country. Pop. (1851) 10,864.
STANLEY, Thomas, a very learned writer, was the son
of Sir Thomas Stanley of Laytonstone in Essex, and Cum-
berlow in Hertfordshire, by his second wife Mary, the
daughter of Sir William Hammond of St Alban’s Court.
He was descended from a natural son of Edward earl of
Derby. He was born in the year 1625, and received a
domestic education under the tuition of William the son of
Edward Fairfax, the well-known translator of Tasso. In
1639, he became a fellow-commoner of Pembroke Hall,
Cambridge, where he distinguished himself by his progress
in classical learning. After having travelled on the conti¬
nent, he resided for some time in the Middle Temple.
Here he lived on terms of particular intimacy with his
cousin Edward, afterwards Sir Edward Sherburne, who culti¬
vated similar studies, and who dedicated a volume of poems
to this learned kinsman. Stanley published Poems and
Translations in 1649, 8vo. They were reprinted, with ad¬
ditions, in 1651. But his principal work was his History
of Philosophy, containing the Lives, Opinions, Actions,
and Discourses of the Philosophers of every Sect. Of the
original edition, printed in folio, the first part appeared in
1655, and the third in 1660. The work is dedicated to his
uncle-in-law, Sir John Marsham, author of the Canon
Chronicus, who first suggested the undertaking. There
are four editions of the History, the last and best being
that of 1743, 4to. The author has displayed solid as well
as extensive erudition, but his valuable materials are not
disposed to the best advantage. The reputation of his
work extended to the continent; and a Latin translation of
it by Olearius was published at Leipzig, in quarto, in the
year 1711. The part relating to the history of Oriental
philosophy had been translated into the same language by
Le Clerc, and published at Amsterdam in 1690, with a
dedication to Bishop Burnet. This version Le Clerc after¬
wards inserted in the second volume of his Opera Philoso-
phica. Stanley next prepared his elaborate and valuable
edition of iEschylus, Lond., 1633, fol. Some copies of the
same impression bear the date of 1664. This edition, which
includes the fragments and the Greek scholia, and is ac¬
companied with a commentary and a Latin version, was of
great importance when it first appeared; but since the
death of the learned editor, so much has been effected by
Schiitz, Wellauer, Dindorf, and Scholefield, that it has lost
a great portion of its original value. It was thought expe¬
dient to reprint Stanley’s edition, with the commentary,
corrected and enlarged from his paper% preserved in the
university library at Cambridge. The charge of this edi¬
tion was committed to a very competent scholar, Samuel
Butler, afterwards promoted to the bishopric of Lichfield;
who, with the addition of his own annotations, published it
at Cambridge in the year 1809, in 4 vols. 4to, and in 8
vols. 8vo. Some notes on Demosthenes, ascribed to Stan-
YOL. xx.
S T A 537
ley, have recently been published in the ninth volume of Stannary
Dobson’s Oratores Attici. He died at his lodgings in Courts
Suffolk Street, in the parish of St Martin’s-in-the-Fields, on II
the 12th of April 1678. He had married Dorothy, the arg^rd.
daughter and co-heiress of Sir James Enyon of Flower in ^
Northamptonshire, Bart. He had a son, who bore his own
name, and, like himself, was educated at Pembroke Hall.
At a very early age, he published Aelian’s Various His¬
tones, translated into English, Lond., 1665, 8vo. A me¬
moir of Stanley will be found prefixed to the edition of his
Poems, published in 1814-15, by Sir Egerton Brydges.
S TANNARY COURTS (Y^t. Stannum, tin), are legal
institutions in Devonshire and Cornwall, for the administra¬
tion of justice among the tinners. They are held before the
lord-warden and his substitutes, by a privilege granted to
the workers in the tin-mines, to sue and be sued only in
their own courts, that they may not be drawn from their
business by attending their lawsuits in other courts.
STANOVOI, or Yablonoi Mountains, a chain in Si¬
beria, extending for about 3000 miles in a direction for the
most part N.E. from the Altai range, parallel to the shores
of the sea of Ochotsk, as far as Behring Strait. This chain
sends out numerous smaller branches, but it is more re¬
markable for length than for altitude. South of 55. N. Lat.,
the mountains are densely wooded; from that point as far
north as 63., they gradually become more and more bare,
and beyond the latter point they are quite covered with
snow. Many considerable rivers take their rise in the Sta¬
novoi Mountains.
STARAJA RUSSA, a town of European Russia, in
the government and 40 miles S. of Novgorod, on the south
side of Lake Ilmen. It is generally ill built, but has
several churches and other edifices. Here there are cele¬
brated salt-works, and an active trade in linseed. Pop. 8044.
STARCH. See Chemistry and Food.
STAR-CHAMBER, Court of {Camera Stellata), a
famous, or rather infamous, English tribunal, said to have de¬
rived its name from the room in which it sat, the old council-
chamber of the palace of Westminster, because the roof
was at first garnished with gilded stars. This was a court
of very ancient origin, but new-modelled by statutes 3
Henry VIL, c. 1, and 21 Henry VIII., c. 20, consisting of
divers lords spiritual and temporal, being privy councillors,
together with two judges of the courts of common law,
without the intervention of any jury. Their jurisdiction
extended legally over riots, perjury, misbehaviour of sheriffs,
and other notorious misdemeanours, contrary to the laws of
the land. Yet this was afterwards, as Lord Clarendon in¬
forms us, stretched “ to the asserting of all proclamations
and orders of state; to the vindicating of illegal commis¬
sions and grants of monopolies; holding for honourable
that which pleased, and for just that which profited; and
becoming both a court of law to determine civil rights, and
a court of revenue to enrich the treasury: the council-
table by proclamation enjoining to the people that which was
not enjoined by the laws, and prohibiting that which was
not prohibited; and the star-chamber, which consisted of
the same persons in different rooms, censuring the breach
and disobedience to those proclamations by very great fines,
imprisonments, and corporal severities: so that any disre¬
spect to any acts of state, or to the persons of statesmen,
was in no time more penal, and the foundations of right
never more in danger to be destroyed.” For these reasons,
it was finally abolished by statute 16 Car. L, c. 10, to the
general joy of the whole nation.
STARGARD, a town of the Prussian monarchy, Po¬
merania, in the government and 21 miles E.S.E. of Stettin,
on the navigable river Ihna. It was anciently the chief
town of Farther Pomerania ( Hinterpommern), and is still
surrounded by ancient walls and watch-towers, and entered
by three gates. The town has 4 churches, one of which,
3 Y
538 S T A
Stargard that of St Mary, a Gothic building of the 14th and 15th
II centuries, is remarkable for its richly adorned exterior, and
Statics, majestic proportions of the interior. The town-
' hall, which dates from the 16th century, is also a fine
building. Stargard has a gymnasium and several other
schools, various hospitals, and an orphan asylum. Woollen
and linen cloth, hosiery, hats, &c., are extensively manu¬
factured here, and an active trade is carried on. Pop.
13’107- 1 T.
Stargard, a town of Prussia, on the Ferse, in the
government, and 29 miles S., of Danzig. It has a town-
hall, Protestant and Roman Catholic churches, a school,
and' an hospital. Tanning, brewing, and distilling, are
carried on here. Pop. 4875.
STARK, William, a physician of Scottish descent, was
born at Manchester in the month of July 1740. He was
sent to the University of Glasgow, where, under the tuition
of Dr Smith and Dr Black, with other eminent masters,
he learned the rudiments of science, and acquired the
mathematical accuracy, logical precision, and contempt
of hypotheses, with which he prosecuted all his future
studies. Having chosen physic for his profession, he re¬
moved from the University of Glasgow to that of Edin¬
burgh, where he was soon distinguished, and honoured with
the friendship of the late Dr Cullen. Having finished his
studies at Edinburgh, though he took there no degree, Mr
Stark, in the year 1765, went to London, and devoted him¬
self entirely to the study of physic and the elements of sur¬
gery ; and looking upon anatomy as one of the principal
pillars of both these arts, he endeavoured to complete with
Dr Hunter what he had begun with Dr Monro; and under
these two eminent teachers he appears to have acquired a
high degree of anatomical knowledge. He likewise entered
himself, about this time, a pupil at St George’s Hospital;
S T A
and with what industry he prosecuted this plan, with what Starodub
success his labours were crowned, may be seen in a series II
of Clinical and Anatomical Observations, which were made Statics,
by him during his attendance at the hospital, and were
published after his death by his friend Dr Carmichael Smyth.
In the year 1767 he went to Leyden, where he took the
degree of M.D., publishing an inaugural dissertation on
dvsentery. On his return to London, he recommenced his
studies at the hospital; and when Dr Black was called to
the chemical chair in Edinburgh, Dr Stark was solicited,
by several members of the University of Glasgow, to stand
as a candidate for their professorship of the theory and
practice of physic. This, however, he declined, being in¬
fluenced by the advice of his English friends, who wished
to detain him in London, and having likewise some prospect
of an appointment in the hospital. In 1769 he commenced
a series of experiments on diet, which he was encouraged
to undertake by Sir John Pringle and Dr Franklin, whose
friendship he enjoyed, and from whom he received many
hints respecting both the plan and its execution. These
experiments, or rather the imprudent zeal with which he
prosecuted them, proved, in the opinion of his friends, fatal
to himself; for he began them on the 12th of July 1769
in perfect health and vigour, and from that day, though
his health varied, it was seldom if ever good, till the 23d
of February 1770, when he died after suffering much un¬
easiness.
STARODUB, a town of European Russia, on the Ba-
binza, in the government and 100 miles N.E. of Tcherni-
gov. It is surrounded by earthen ramparts, and contains
a cathedral, a monastery, an extensive copper-work, a bell-
foundry, and tanneries; and it has a considerable trade
with the Baltic and Black Sea. Pop. 9500.
STATEN ISLAND. See New York.
STATICS
Is that branch of mechanical science which treats of the laws
of equilibrium or repose; it is divided into three distinct sec¬
tions, according as it may refer to solid, to fluid, or to gaseous
matter. Hydrostatics and Aerostatics have already been
treated of under their proper heads; and in the present article
we shall confine our attention to the equilibrium of solid bodies,
or to Geostatics, as this section may, with propriety, be termed.
If we could place a body in space so as that nothing
might obstruct its motion, it would move on the application
of the slightest pressure, and could then only be kept at
rest by the application of antagonistic pressures, so that the
doctrines of statics must relate to the manner in which
pressures applied to a solid body keep that body at rest, or,
as we say, in which they balance each other.
Our idea of pressure is obtained directly from the expe¬
rience of resistance to muscular effort; and as our knowledge
of the very existence of resistance is experimental, so our
acquaintance with the laws of resistance must also be de¬
rived from experience, and cannot possibly be the result of
mere intellectual ratiocination : the attempt to make statics
a branch of pure logic must, in the very nature of things,
be a vain one.
When a piece of solid matter is entirely detached from
all other solid bodies, it, except in certain very peculiar cir¬
cumstances, moves and continues to move until it come in
contact with some other solid body, and all the repose of
which we have any actual cognisance, exists among solid
bodies in contact with each other.
On attempting to displace a body which is at rest, we
experience three distinct kinds of resistance :—in the first
place, on trying to lift it, we experience an opposition, as it
were, in the object itself, and if we succeed in raising it we
still feel that it tends to go down again ; to this well-known
and yet very wonderful quality, the name tveigkt is given,
and we recognise in it that very tendency in virtue of which
the object, when let go, descends until it meet an obstacle.
In the second place, on attempting to push the object against
the body on which it is resting, we find that that body re¬
sists our utmost endeavours which never succeed unless by
its displacement or by its fracture; this kind of resistance
may, for the convenience of language, be called direct.
And in the third place, on trying to push the object along
the surface on which it is resting, we experience a resistance,
not insuperable as before, but varying according to the
nature of the surfaces and to other circumstances ; this kind
of resistance is commonly called friction, but as this word
implies motion, it would be more accurate to use the expres¬
sion resistance to friction or lateral resistance. When the
surfaces are smooth and the substances hard, the friction is
comparatively small, and, as is well-known, becomes less
when grease or oil is applied.
EQUILIBRIUM OF TWO PRESSURES.
If we place an object O upon a smooth flat surface, and
push it gently by means
of a stick BA, we find
that it remains at rest, un¬
less the intensity of the
pressure be sufficient to
overcome the friction. If Fig. i.
now another person press against it by means of a stick DC
so as to prevent the motion, we conceive that the two pres¬
sures are of like intensity, or differ from each other only by
STATICS.
539
Squill- the friction, while everyday experience shows that their
brium of directions must be exactly opposed to each other. The
Two Pres- object O seems to be the means of communication between
sures. twQ pressing bodies, and if the two sticks were applied
end to end with pressures equally intense, there would also
be equilibrium, so that we very readily admit the general
proposition, “ Two pressures equal in intensity and opposite
in direction balance each other."
When the object O is hard, we do not readily perceive
that any change is made upon it by the pressures at A and
C, but if a soft body, such as a cork or a bit of elastic gum,
be subjected to such pressures, a visible change is made in
its form ; this change increases as the pressures are aug¬
mented, so that it becomes a kind of index of the intensity
of the pressure, and careful experiments show, that though
often imperceptible in extent, analogous changes take place
in even the hardest substances. When the pressure is re¬
moved, the body resumes its original shape more or less
accurately, and with greater or less rapidity according to the
nature of the material. With some subtances, as lead, a
permanent change of form results if the pressure be con¬
siderable ; with others, as vulcanised caoutchouc, a conside¬
rable time elapses; while wdth the generality of what are
called hard substances, the resumption of form is complete
and almost instantaneous. The communication of pressure,
then, from the point A to the point C, implies important
and complicated changes in the form and position of the
parts of the intervening body.
We have not, however, completely examined this expe¬
riment ; for if one person press against the end B of the stick
BA, while another presses against the end D of DC, the
object O is almost invariably found to turn round: the
slightest error in the direction of either of the rods is fol¬
lowed by a dislocation of the arrangement. The same thing
takes place if two parties attempt to make trial of their
strength by pushing the buttons of their foils against each
other, and it is only by laying the rods between guides that
we can prevent this inconvenience.
If we make two holes
in the object O, one at
A and the other at C, and T.
having passed a cord
through each, pull at the
ends B and D of these Fig. 2.
cords, the object no longer gets displaced ; but, on the con¬
trary, the threads AB and CD always come into one straight
line. The two pressures are still opposite in direction and
equal in intensity.
These two modes of conducting this fundamental expe¬
riment furnish excellent examples of unstable and stable
equilibrium, the contrast between them is instructive in
another way. It appears at first sight, that there are two
modes of urging a body in a given direction, one by pushing,
the other by pulling ; but a closer examination of the matter
shows that pullingor traction is, in reality, pushing ox pressure.
No body can influence another body to move (setting aside
gravitation and such influences as magnetic or electric attrac¬
tions and repulsions), except by pressing upon it. We
cannot draw an object to us by stretching out the hand
unto it and withdrawing the arm again; no : the hand must
be reached to and beyond some integral part of the object,
the fingers must be bent round, and pressure must be applied
to the further surface ; we must take hold of it. Even when,
as in the case of pulling a rope or seizing the end of a stick,
we do not reach to a surface opposed to the direction of the
intended effort, we grasp the object in the hand so as to
occasion friction, and thus our ultimate resort is still to
pressure. The perception of this truth leads to the use of
hooks, eyes, loops, rings, ties, &c., which are all contrived
for the very purpose of reaching beyond and pressing upon
the further surface.
£
5)
Vices and forceps, again, are constructed for pulling by
friction ; their jaws are pressed against the lateral surfaces
of the object, and the friction thus occasioned offers resist¬
ance to the pulls.
Traction occasions complicated changes in the internal
part of the bodies sub¬
jected to it. Thus, if a
pin A driven firmly
into the block B be
drawn towards E by
means of the hook CDE,
the parts of the pin near
C are compressed, but of
the parts near the lower
end a some are com¬
pressed and some are dis- Fig. 3.
tended. I he hook at C is compressed, the parts D on the
one side of the line of traction are partly distended and partly
bent, while the parts E in the line of strain seem to be
merely distended ; so that in this little arrangement we have
compression, lateral flexure, and distension combined, and
this combination is to be found in every case of traction.
W hen we pull by means of a chain, each link is strained,
on the whole lengthened, and communicates its tension to
the next, so that we have a series of examples of the
equilibrium of two opposing pressures. So, when a rope is
used, we imagine that each part is distended, and communi¬
cates the pressure to the adjoining part; but as we, in truth,
know very little of the internal constitution of matter, this
idea rather furnishes us with a convenient mode of speech,
than with an explanation of the matter; it clearly points
to the well known fact that the length of the cord does not,
unless its weight has to be considered, in any way influence
the transmission of pressure from the one end to the other.
It is apparent that we cannot strain a rope by pulling at
the one end unless the other end be held fast; and there¬
fore, when two men pull at opposite ends of a rope, the
rope is not strained by the exertions of two men, but only
by the exertion of one man, and he the weaker of the two.
rI his is very obvious, yet we have examples of its misap¬
prehension. Thus, Otto von Guericke, when exhibiting
publicly his famous experiment of the hemispheres, yoked
eight horses to the one and eight horses to the other cup,
in order to pull them asunder, thinking that he thus em¬
ployed the strength of sixteen horses, whereas, had he
fastened one of the hemispheres to the adjacent tree, the
eight horses yoked to the other cup would have pulled
quite as effectively as when pulling against the other teem.
The change which pressure causes in the form of a
solid is well seen when the strain acts transversely. Thus,
if a wire AB (fig. 4) be bent into the form of a screw, a
slight pressure applied to the end is accom¬
panied by a perceptible alteration in the length
of the spiral. By using a thin wire with large
and numerous convolutions, any degree of deli¬
cacy may be obtained in this kind of spring,
so that we can construct a convenient indicator
of pressure. Tension gauges of this kind are
in common use ; the spiral spring being gene¬
rally inclosed in a tube, and the divisions to
indicate the quantity of compression or disten¬
sion are marked either along the side of the
tube or on a style protruding from one end.
We are not entitled to assume, nor, indeed, is
it strictly true, that the intensity of the pressure
applied is proportional to the lengthening or
shortening of the spiral spring, yet such spring
gauges can be made truly to indicate the pres¬
sures, and they are the most convenient instru¬
ments for examining experimentally the laws of
equilibrium. The unit of pressure is usually
Equili¬
brium of
Two Pres¬
sures.
540 STATICS.
Equili- as t]]e wgig]^ of some known heavy body, such as
bThree°f a Ponnd^ an ounce> or a grain ; ancl this W}^ answer suffi-
Pressures c'ently well our present purpose, although it be a fact that
v r L i gravitation is not quite the same all over the world.
Let then a weight, say of one pound, be hung from the
hook of a spring-balance, and let the protrusion of the
style be marked: remove now the pound, substitute for it
a mass somewhat heavier, and by paring or filing adjust it
so as to bring the index exactly to the same mark, and you
have another pound weight; in this way we may prepare
as many weights as may be required. Hang on now two,
three, four, and so on of these weights at once, marking
the indication corresponding to each, and you have the
spring-balance graduated to show pressures of one, two,
three, etc., pounds. Having prepared several of such pres¬
sure gauges, we are ready to make experiments on the
manner in which pressures balance each other.
On hooking two of these gauges together, directly or
by the intervention of a cord, we obtain at once a confir¬
mation of the law already stated, that two pressures balance
each other when they are equal in intensity and opposite
in direction.
EQUILIBRIUM OF THREE PRESSURES.
In order to examine the simplest case of the equilibrium
of three pressures, we may knot three threads together,
and attach the loose ends of these to the hooks of three
pressure-gauges. On stretching the threads of this little
arrangement, the first thing which offers itself to our notice
is, that, sensibly, they are always in one plane ; and we are
convinced that, when three pressures acting on one point
balance each other, this is always the case. Let (fig. 5)
PA, PB, PC represent the
three threads knotted to¬
gether at P ; in PA and PB
take any points a and b, then
if we join these by a fine line,
as a silk fibre, the continua¬
tion of CP always cuts it ;
this is in accordance with the
well-known property of plane
surfaces. A very slight ex¬
amination of a few cases shows us that the continuation of
the direction of one of the pressures always passes between
the other two, and also that the greater pressure has the
lesser angle opposite to it. If the distances Pa, Vb be
measured off proportional to the intensities of the pressures,
it is found invariably that the continuation of the third
line CP divides the line joining a and b into two equal
parts. Any observer may convince himself of the truth of
this law by bringing a strained system of three threads
over a sheet of paper, by noting the arrangement and by
making the appropriate delineation.
In order to be a general law, this statement must apply
as well to the two pres¬
sures PB and PC as to
PA and PB, wherefore
if Pc be measured pro¬
portional to the tension
of PC, 6 c should be bi¬
sected by the continua¬
tion of AP, and ca by
the continuation of BP ;
and this is in accordance
with the truth that the
three lines which join the
corners of any trigon with
the middles of the oppo¬
site sides all meet in one
point. Having produced c
the line CP/ untilbe Fig. 6.
equal to I/, join ag and bg, then it can easily be shown Equili.
that a ^ is equal to P6, 6^ to Pa, and Vg to Pc, so that brmm of
the intensities of three pressures which balance at a point Three
are proportional to the three sides of a trigon drawnPressures-
parallel to the three directions of the pressures : thus the
tensions of the cords PA, PB, PC are proportional to Pa,
a g, gV. Again, since the sides of a trigon are proportional
to the sines of their opposite angles, and since the sine of
an angle is equal to the sine of its supplement, it follows
that, of three pressures tvhich balance each other at a
point, the intensities are proportional to the sines of the
opposite angles. The same truth may be stated yet in
another way. The two pressures Pa and P6 may be re¬
garded as balancing or resisting the third pressure Pc; but
a pressure represented by P^ would alone resist Pc, so that
we may, as it were, regard the single pressure represented by
Vg as equivalent to the two Pa and P6; the pressure repre¬
sented by P<7 is called the resultant of Pa and P6 ; and thus,
if the two sides of a rhomboid represent in direction and in
intensity two pressures acting on a point, the diagonal of
the rhomboid represents the resultant of those pressures.
This theorem, in whichever way we may prefer to state
it, is the foundation of all mechanical science. Various
attempts have been made to show that it ought, necessarily,
to be true, or, in other words, to deduce our knowledge of
it from some fancied intuitive perception of what should
be ; but the authors of all such attempts proceed by as¬
suming, stated in one form of words, the very law which,
disguised in another form, they wish to establish. Experi¬
ence, and experience alone, tells us that this law is, but
why it is, is utterly beyond our comprehension.
If three pressures, not acting on one point, balance
each other, they must act through the intervention of
some solid body, and must produce strains in the parts of
that body; for we have no example of pressures applied to
one being resisted by other pressures applied to another
and disconnected object. Let us then suppose that three
points, Q, R, S, are connected by three slender rods, QR,
RS, SQ, and let us-endeavour to trace the effects of three
pressures, QA, RB, SC, acting on these points and
balancing each other.
In this arrangement, putting out of view the weights of
the tie-rods, the point Q is kept in equilibrium by three
pressures—one QA, one the strain on QR, and one the
strain on QS ; so, according to the previously observed
law, the direction of Q A must be in the plane QRS, and
as the same may be said of RB, SC, it seems that, in such
an arrangement as this, the directions of the three pres¬
sures must lie in one plane. Let us produce AQ and BR
to meet in P, and draw the perpendiculars PT, PU, PV
to the lines RS, SQ, QR. Then since PU is the sine of
the angle AQS to the radius QP, while PV is the sine of
AQR to the same radius, it follows that the strain on QR
is to the strain on QS as PU is to PV, or denoting strain
by a superscribed line,
QH : QS :: PU : PV.
STATICS.
EqU1li- In the same way, by considering the three strains
brium of balancing at the point R, we find that
nThrel RS : QR : : PV : PT ;
Pressures. ^ ’
wherefore by compounding the ratios we obtain
RS : QS : : PU : PT.
Now this is what would ensue if the direction of the third
pressure CS were to pass through P ; and thus we conclude
that when three pressures acting on three points connected
hy tie-rods balance each other, their directions must all
tend to one point; and farther, it is very easy to show that
the intensities of these pressures must be just as if they
had acted directly on that point. '
This proposition, which we have easily deduced from our
first law in the case of a linear frame QRS, is also true of
pressures applied to any three points in a solid body; but
without having recourse to farther experiments, we are un¬
able to show that it is so.
If, for example, the points
* Q, R, S be taken in a thin
flat plate, we are unable
to trace the manner in
which the strains are
transmitted from the one
point to the other, and
are thus without the
means of pursuing the in¬
vestigation. A few ex¬
periments, however, are
enough to convince us
that the three directions,
AQ, BR, CS, converge
to one point, and that the intensities of the pressures bear to
each other the very same ratios that they would have had
if the strings had been attached to that point.
If the plate have a forked form, as shown in fig. 9, the
tendency is to lengthen
the arms QR and RS,
and to open the angle
QRS, so that we have
a cross or angular strain
upon the arms of this,
which is called a bent
lever. On making trials
with such a form as
this, we find, as before,
that the three pressures
balance just as if they
had been attached di¬
rectly to their point of
common intersection;
and thus we may accept
From Q let fall the
Fig. 8.
Fig. 9.
/
i i \
equal to the sum of the other two.
perpendiculars QT,QU upon
the directions of the pres¬
sures RB, SC; then, since
these are proportional to the
sines of the angles QPB,
QPC, they must also be
proportional to the intensities
of the pressures SC, RB;
and as this proportion, viz.?
SC:RB:: QT:QU, holds
true of every case up to the
very limit of parallelism, we
must conclude that it is true
of parallel pressures also.
This brings us to the very
well known doctrine of the
lever. When a rigid body
RQS, of any form whatever,
is made to rest at one point,
as Q, against an obstacle, and
has pressures applied to it at two other points, it is called a
lever, the resisting point being called the fulcrum, and the
distances, as QR, QS, of the other two points from the ful¬
crum, being called the arms of the lever.
When the three points Q, R, S are in one straight line,
the lever is said to be s'
straight; and in that
case, if the pressures
SC, RB be parallel,
the perpendiculars
QU and QT are pro¬
portional to QS and
QR; hence, when a
straight lever is kept
541
Equili¬
brium of
Four
Pressures.
Fig. 11.
it as a general law, that when three pressures balance each
other, their directions meet in one point, and are in one
plane, and their intensities are proportional to the sides of
a trigon drawn parallel to them.
From this law it follows that the resultant of two pres¬
sures is always less than their sum. If the pressure QA
were made nearly equal to the sum of the other two RB,
SC, the trigon formed with its sides proportional to these
three would have the angle opposite to the representative of
QA very obtuse, so that its supplement BPC would be a
small angle, and the point P would necessarily be situated
considerably beyond Q, in the direction QA, as shown in
fig. 10. If the pressure QA were gradually augmented, so
as to become almost equal to the sum of the others, P
would move off to a very great distance, and the lines
QA, RB, SC, would be nearly parallel; so that in the limit¬
ing case, when we may suppose these lines to have be¬
come absolutely parallel, the middle pressure must be
in equilibrium by weights hung on at its two extremities,
these weights must be inversely proportional to the lengths
of the arms ; and when these lengths are equal, the weights
also must be equal to each other.
This proposition concerning the equilibrium of three
pressures applied to three points in a solid body, contains
the essential principles of balances, steelyards, and other
weighing machines; but it must be remarked, that such an
equilibrium is hardly to be obtained in practice, even though
it were desirable. The balance is always made to rest on
the two ends of a knife edge, and thus there are at least
four pressures acting on four points. (See the article
Balance in Vol. IV.)
EQUILIBRIUM OF FOUR PRESSURES.
When four pressures, acting in the directions PA, PB,
PC, PD, balance each other, we may seek to investigate
their relations by
finding the re¬
sultants of two of
them, as PA,
PB, which we
shall suppose to
be PG, and by
then considering
the equilibrium to
subsist among the
three, PG, PC,
PD; but in fol¬
lowing such a
course we would
be assuming that
because PA, PB
would be resisted
by a pressure
Fig. 12.
542
Equili¬
brium of
several
Pressures.
STATICS.
order, will balance each other when they all act on one Decompo,,;.
point. The equilibrium of many pressures is, however, best tion and
investigated by help of the Itecomposi-
tion of
Pressures.
DECOMPOSITION AND RECOMPOSITION OF PRESSURES.
equal and opposite to PG, the pressure PG may, in all
cases, be substituted for them. Ibis, however, we cannot
demonstrate logically; it is a mere surmise, and cannot be
admitted as an established truth, until it shall have received
a substantial confirmation.
On tying together four cords, and straining them by help
of pressure-gauges, we observe, on varying the directions of
the pulls, that they no longer necessarily lie all in one
plane ; and we readily notice that the continuation of any
one of the directions passes within the solid angle or corner
formed by the other three. If we now measure along PA
and PB distances, Pa, P6, proportional to the tensions, join
the points a, b, by a fine thread, and mark/the middle of
a b, we find, on bringing the eye into the plane of the two
other cords PC, PD, that / is in that plane. Thus, the
line 1/must be the intersection of the two planes APB,
CPD. Similarly, if this be really a law, on measuring Pc,
Vd proportional to the respective strains, and joining c d,
the middle, k of that line must be in the plane APB, so
that P/$ must be the intersection of the same two planes,
and must therefore be a continuation on/P. In the same
way, the line joining the middles ot a d and b c ought to
pass through P, as also that joining the middles of a c and
b d. Now it is a well known property of the tetrahedron,
that the straight lines joining the middles of the opposite
sides meet in one point, and bisect each other, so that this
statical law, which we have observed, is not inconsistent
with the truths of geometry.
The double of P/ represents in direction, and in inten¬
sity, the resultant of PA and PB, and also represents a
pressure which alone would resist PC and PD, so that we
have our surmise confirmed, and may safely conclude that,
so far at least as statical effect is concerned, the resultant
of two pressures may be substituted for them.
Having taken any point p in space, draw p a, parallel and
equal to Pa of fig. 12, and ag parallel and equal to P6,
then it is evident that pg, if joined, would be parallel and
equal to the double of P/; it would, therefore, represent
the resultant of PA and PB. Draw now g e parallel and
equal to Pc, and it is obvious that is also parallel and
equal to Vd, so that we have this general law, that when
four pressures acting on one point are represented in direc¬
tion and in intensity by four connected lines taken in order,
they balance each other; and this proposition is true whether
the connected lines pa, a g, g e, ep,
be or be not all situated in one
plane.
The pressure represented by c
may be regarded as the resultant of
two represented by p g, ge\ but
p g itself represents the resultant of
pa, ag\ so that pe may be re¬
garded as the resultant of the three
pressures pa, a g, g e. Complete
now the rhomb or parallelopiped, of
which pa, pb, pc are three con¬
curring sides, and we see that, of
three pressures, PA, PB, PC, re¬
presented by those lines, the result¬
ant, viz., the opposite of PD, is represented by the diagonal
pe of the solid.
EQUILIBRIUM OF SEVERAL PRESSURES.
These observations on the equilibrium of four pressures
applied to one point, may be extended to that of any num¬
ber; and we have this general law, that if there be any
number of lines connected in the manner of the sides of a
polygon, but not necessarily in one plane, pressures repre¬
sented in intensity and in direction by these lines, taken in
We have seen that the resultant of two pressures may be
substituted for those pressures, and so, conversely, we may
put, instead of a single pressure, any two or more pressures
of which it would be the resultant: this substitution is
called, though with a little impropriety of language, the
decomposition of the pressure. As, for the purpose of in¬
dicating the relative positions of points, we use the method
of co-ordinates, so we employ, with great advantage, the
same method in examining the conditions of equilibrium
of a system of pressures. We decompose each pressure
into three acting in the directions of the axes of co-ordinates,
and thus carry on our investigations more readily.
For the convenience of description let us refer the posi¬
tions of the points of a system to three planes—one hori¬
zontal ; one vertical, passing from east to west; and one
also vertical, and passing from north to south. Let us
measure x northwards, y eastwards, and z upwards. The
direction in which a pressure acts may be indicated by what
astronomers call its zenith distance, that is the angle which
it makes with the vertical line z, and its azimuth or bear¬
ing* that is the angle which its projection upon the hori¬
zontal plane makes with the north line x.
In the first place, we may regard the actual pressure p
as the resultant of two imaginary pressures—one, which we
shall denote by p(li), horizontally in the direction of the
projection, and the other p{z) towards the zenith ; and, in
the second place, we may consider p(/«) as the resultant of
p(x) towards the north, and p{y) towards the east. The
values of these, expressed in trigonometric language, are—
p{x)=p x sin zen. dist. x cos bearing!
p{y)=p x sin zen. dist. x sin bearingV- . . (1.)
p{z)=p x cos zen. dist. )
By making this decomposition for each one of the pres¬
sures acting on a point, and taking the sums of all those
acting in each direction, we obtain the three elements of
the resultant, viz.:—
2p(x)i 2p(y); %p(z);
from which we can compute the bearing, the zenith dis¬
tance, and the intensity of the resultant; and, if these
pressures keep each other in check, we must have
%O)=0; My)=Q\ = o .... (2.)
three equations which contain the conditions of equilibrium.
When the system under examination contains several
points acted on by various pressures, the above equations
must hold good of each separate point, as, otherwise, that
point could not be at rest.
FLEXIBLE POLYGON.
When a number of points are connected by a succession
of ties which bind each one to only two others, the polygon
thus formed is flexible whenever the number of the points
exceeds three. Let ABCDEF (fig. 14) be such a polygon
acted on by pressures Aa, Bb, ... Ff, the directions of
which may or may not be all in one plane; and let AB,
BC, &c., represent the tensions on the various parts of the
cord; then, since the point A is kept in equilibrium by the
three tensions Aa, AB, AF, the direction and intensity of
Aa could be discovered if the tensions AB, AF were
known ; and hence the problem, “ to find those pressures in
virtue of which the parts of a flexible polygon may be
STATICS.
543
Flexible strained with prescribed strains and kept in given posi-
Polygon. tions,” admits of a very easy solution.
Fig. 15.
(3.)
Aa (#) +AB AF (x) = 0 ;
and again, for the point B,
Bl(z) + BA (*) + BC (*) = 0;
and so on for every other point in the series. Adding all
these equations together, and observing that since BA
and AB, being representatives of the tension on the cord
AB, are equal and opposite to each, BA (#) + AB a: is zero,
we have
Aa (#) + B6 (#) + &c.=0;
and similarly,
Aa (?/) + B6 (y) + &c. = 0
Aa (z) + B6 {z) + &c. = 0;
wherefore, the extraneous pressures would, applied to one
point, produce equilibrium.
The same kind of demonstration may be applied to any
system whatever, and we have this general proposition, that
“ the extraneous pressures which, when acting on any sys¬
tem, keep it in equilibrium, would balance each other if they
acted on one point. The converse of this proposition is
not true.
The most interesting case of a flexible polygon is that of
a chain fixed at its two ex¬
tremities, and carrying weights
attached to it at intervals along
its length. As the theory of
this kind of polygon forms the
foundation of the doctrine of
chain-bridges, and of arches in
general, it deserves our parti¬
cular attention.
Let ABCDEF (fig. 15) re¬
present a chord to which are
attached strings B6, Ce, T>d, &c., carrying weights ; and let
us examine the conditions of its equilibrium. Since the three
tensions BA, BC, B6 balance each other at B, we have
BA : BC :: sin 6BC : sin 5BA :: cse 6BA : cse 6BC ;
and again, on account of the equilibrium at C,
CB : CD :: cse cCB : cse cCD ;
wherefore, compounding these ratios we have, since the
angle cCB is the supplement of 6BC,
BA : CD :: cse &BA : cse cCD;
and, as this reasoning can be continued, it follows that, in
every such suspended chain, the tensions at the various
parts are proportional to the cosecants of their inclinations
to the vertical line, or the secants of their inclinations to Suspension
the horizon. ^Bridgeu,
Let the distance Cp be measured along cB to represent
the intensity of the strain on BC, and similarly Cq along
CD ; also, having drawn a horizontal line through C, draw
the vertical lines pr, qs to meet it: then the strain Cp may
be decomposed into cr, rp\ and the strain Cq into Gs, Sg.
The two horizontal strains, Cr, Cs, are equal to and balance
each other; while the difference between the two vertical
strains, rp, sq, must be equal to that caused by the weight
hung on at c. Hence, if h denote the horizontal strain,
BA = A.sec incl.AB; CB = A. sec inch BC 1
weight at C = A (tan inch AB — tan inch BC). J
wherefore the weights hung on any part of such a chain
are equal to the horizontal tension multiplied by the dif¬
ference between the tangents of the inclinations at its two
extremities.
These are the well known principles which regulate the
construction of bridges; they are most distinctly seen in
the case of suspension-bridges, but they are not less essen¬
tially connected with stone-arches.
SUSPENSION-BRIDGES.
The essential parts of a suspension-bridge are—first, the
chain attached to two well secured supports; second, the
suspending-rods; and,
third, the roadway. In
general, the weight of
the roadway far ex¬
ceeds that of the other
parts ; so that, in a first
examination of the mat-
t er, we may take it alone
into consideration, and
suppose that the weights of the chain and of the suspend-
ing-rods are so small as not to be worth notice. Let, then,
B'ABCD, &c., represent the roadway of a chain-bridge
suspended, at equal intervals B'A, AB, BC, &c., by rods
B'5', Aa, B6, Cc, &c., from the chain b'abcd; and let us
suppose that a is the lowest point of the chain, the parts
ab' and ab being equally inclined to the horizon.
Put h to represent the horizontal tension, r the weight
of one foot of the road-way, and a the distance between
the vertical roads, a r being thus the weight supported by
each rod. Then, since the links aV and ab are equally
CLT
inclined, the tangent of the inclination must be ^. Draw
aK parallel to the horizon, and we must have
aK : K6 :x 2h : ar, whence K5 =
24
Passing to the point b, at which again there is an equili¬
brium of three pressures, and drawing the horizontal line
bC we have
CLV
tan L§c —tan Ka£ = —,but
tan Cbc
h
ar
2h
Sar
~2h ''
tan KaZ> = -y ; wherefore,
and
T r ;
Le = a tan Cbc—-^-.
Proceeding in this way, we easily show that the distances
K6, Lc, Md, &c., must be as the successive odd numbers,
1, 3, 5, &c., and therefore the rises above the lowest point
a, must, at b, c, d, &c., be as the successive square numbers
1, 4, 9, and so on ; wherefore, the length Nra of a rod
situated at n intervals from aA, would be given by the equa¬
tion
544
STATICS.
Suspension
Bridges.
N»=Aa+
rfatr
2h
and thus it seems that the chain b'abcb must be inscribed
in a parabola.
If, however, we take into account the weights of the links
of the chain, and the varying lengths and weights of the
suspending-rods, we must obtain a form differing percepti¬
bly from the parabola. Putting c for the weight of one
foot of the chain, where it is horizontal, and i for the incli¬
nation at any other part, the strain there is h sec. i, and,
therefore, as the chain ought to be thickened to bear the
greater strain, the weight of one foot of it should be c sec. i,
and consequently the weight of that portion of the chain
which is vertically over one foot of the roadway must be c,
sec. i2, and thus, exclusive of the suspending-rods, the whole
weight above a foot of the roadway is
r + c sec P, or r + c + c tan e2.
The suspending-rods, having to carry equal weights all
along, must be of uniform strength ; and hence their own
weights are proportional to their lengths, so that the weight
of the suspending-rods may be assumed as proportional to
the area AadD of the elevation of the arch. Let, then, x
be the horizontal distance
measured along AH, z the
ordinate Fp, reckonedfrom
the horizontal line passing
through a, and let s be the
weight of the suspending-
rods, corresponding to one
square foot of side-area:
then the weight above a
minute element, dx, of the
horizontal line is
dw = (r + c + c tan i2 + sz) dx;
and this, according to the law already explained, is equal to
the differential of the tangent of the inclination, multiplied
by the horizontal strain ; wherefore
h . d tan i = (r + c + c tan *2 + sz) dx
expresses the condition of the equilibrium in chain-bridges
when none of the accidents of their formation is ne¬
glected.
The complete integration of this expression cannot be
obtained in finite formulae, but we can develop the value
of the ordinate 2 in a series containing the even powers of
x; thus, if we put
z = Ax2 + Bxi + cx6 + Da;8 + Ea;10 + &c.;
and if, for shortness sake we make
2cr + c2 ,
we have
h
A =
r + c
2h
= 4Ac;
B = A
a + 5
C = B
4a + 5
D = B
3.4.4’ .5.6.4’
34a" -f- 20as -f- s2
5.6 . 7.8 42
£ _ B 496a3 + 474a2S + 84as2 + &c
5.6.7.8.9.1043
In all practical cases, the fractions ~ and ^ are small, so
that the coefficients B, C, D, &c., decrease rapidly in value,
and for all the wants of the engineer, the above terms are
amply sufficient.
The question, “ What is the extreme limit to which a
chain-bridge can be thrown ? ” is an interesting one, parti¬
cularly in reference to proposals which have, from time to Suspension
time, been made for throwing such bridges across our estu- Bridges,
aries, across even the Bosphorus, or the Dardanelles. In's—
order to answer this question definitely, we may remark
that an unloaded chain, no part of which is thicker than
the strain upon it requires, must be capable of spanning the
utmost stretch which the material will allow. Let us, then,
suppose a chain having its horizontal tension 4 as great as
is compatible with the thickness of c pounds per foot at the
lowest part, to be thickened towards each end in such a wav
as in every part to be just able to bear the strain ; then c
sec. i will be the weight per linear foot at any point in the
curve, and the condition of equilibrium will be expressed
by the differential equation
4 . d tan i — c . sec i2 . dx,
from which we at once obtain
cx
T
so that in this, which may be called the catenary of regu¬
lated strength, the inclination of the curve at the point p
is proportional to the horizontal ordinate aP, and becomes
90°, when a; = — ; and thus the utmost horizontal stretch
2c’
of such a chain is
4
2X = — x3T415926,
and even to attain this the vertical height would need to
be infinite. By putting for — the modulus of strength,
or the length of itself which a uniform chain can support,
we would have the absolute limit of span for any given
material.
The form of the catenary of regulated strength is given
by the equations
4
nep. log sec
cx
T’
c
nep. log tan
(7t ca;\
4 + 2A>
in which l is the length of the curve reckoned from the
lowest point a to the top of the ordinate z.
When the chain is of uniform thickness all along, the
form which it assumes is called the catenary. This curve,
although of no great importance in regard to chain-bridges,
has a close connection with the theory of equilibrated arches,
and possesses besides certain very remarkable geometrical
properties. The same notation remaining, its equation of
condition is
4 . d tan i zz. c sec i
whence we obtain, on integrating,
4
1
c X 2
cx
h
+ e
cx
~hX - "L
c
4
. 4 1
7 = - x -
c 2
cx
4 _
cx
h
e being the basis of the Neperian system of logarithms.
The utmost horizontal distance which can be spanned
by a chain of uniform thickness is T3254838, or about
f^ths of its modulus of strength.
The theory of stone-arches is almost a counterpart of
that of chain-bridges ; the difference consisting principally
in this, that the load on the stone-arch is the quantity of
material included between the surface of the roadway and
STATICS.
545
Squili-
brium of
parallel
i'ressures.
Let AR (figure 18) re¬
bridge, apq the arch-
Fi?. 18.
the lower face of the arch-stones,
present the line of road over a
stones; then the load upon
the part ap of the intrados
is the quantity of material
included in the figure a AP/?.
When the entire space is
filled up and the arrange¬
ments made suitable to this
condition, the arch is said
to be equilibrated. The
roadway is commonly almost level; but, in the general in¬
vestigation, we shall suppose it sloped at an angle a to the
horizon. The point a, as before, being made the origin of
rectangular co-ordinates, we have
Vp = Aa — x tan a + z
or putting v for the distance Aa, and u for Yp,
u — v — x tan a z,
and the condition of equilibrium is
7 » ■ i d2u i
hd tan i = k —— = udx\
dx
wherefore, if a be taken at that point of the curve where it
is parallel to the roadway, we have, on integrating,
v
2
x _ x
e Vh + e V/i
which is the equation of a modified catenary.
It may be remarked, that the chords of this curve drawn
parallel to the roadway are bisected by the vertical axis Aa ;
and that, contrary to what has been supposed, the case of
bridges with oblique roadways differs in no essential point
from that of bridges with the roadway horizontal.
EQUILIBRIUM OF PARALLEL PRESSURES.
Parallel pressures can only balance each other by the in¬
tervention of some solid body, which may form a connec¬
tion between the points to which the various pressures are
applied. The simplest mode of viewing the subject is to
imagine the points to be connected by straight rods, the
lengths of which would, geometrically, determine the rela¬
tive positions of the parts, and to investigate at each point
of attachment the distribution of the pressures. But this
method is inapplicable when all the points of attachment
are situated in one plane ; in such a case, we should have
to assume some accessory points out of the plane so as to
communicate firmness to the system.
If, in some plane which passes entirely to one side of
the system of connected points, three points not in one
straight line be chosen, the distances of any point in the
system from these three arbitrary points will determine
its position, and we may thus regard the rigidity of the
system as obtained by means of inextensible rods con¬
necting each point in it with each one of the three assumed
points. Let, then, A, B, C (figure 19), be the three arbi¬
trarily assumed points, and P one of the points in the
system to which the pressure Pp is applied. These
being connected by slen¬
der rods, the pressure
Yp is resisted by the ten¬
sions of PA, BP, CP. In
order to obtain the values
of these tensions, let the
direction P/? be continued,
to meet the plane ABC
in p, and through p lead
planes parallel to BPC,
CPA, APB ; these, with
tiie planes to which they
VOL. XX.
are parallel, include a rhomb, of which Yp is the diagonal,
so that if, for the moment, Yp be taken to represent tiie
intensity of the pressure P/i, the sides of that rhomb would
represent the strains AP, BP, CP. To avoid confusion, v.
this rhomb is not drawn in the figure, but only the plane
passing through p parallel to BPC is shown, cutting PA in
a; Ya in this case represents the tension PA.
The rod PA conveys this strain to the point A, which
is acted on by three pressures PA, AB, AC; and these
not being in one plane, cannot be in equilibrium ; a fourth
pressure must therefore aid in establishing the balance.
Through a draw aa parallel to Ap; the pressure Ya acting
at A may be decomposed into two, one parallel and pro¬
portional to aa, another parallel and proportional to Pa.
That part represented by aa being exerted in the direction
pA is resisted by the tensions of the rods AB, AC; and
the other part represented by Pa, exerted in the direction
of a line drawn through A parallel to Yp, must be resisted
by the other pressures, to which the system is subjected.
Since Yp : Pa : : PA s Pa, and since the altitudes of
the trigons BAG, B/jC are evidently in the same ratio, we
have*—
Pp : Pa :: ABC : Y>pC; and similarly
: Pg:: ABC : QpA,
Yp:Yy:: ABC : A/?B,
so that the pressure Yp is distributed among the points
A, B, C in shares proportional to the areas of the opposite
trigons B/iC, CpA, ApY>,
If the same process be followed for each pressure, we
obtain, on summing up all the shares which are resisted at
each of the points A, B, C,
2 P^=0; 2 P^ = 0; S F7- 0.
Since each pressure Yp is equal to the sum of the three
Pa, P/3, Py, it follows, from the addition of the above
equations, that the sum % Yp of all the parallel pressures
must be zero; or, in other words, that the sum of those
wdiich act in the one direction must be equal to the sum of
those which oppose them.
The trigons BAG and BPC having a common base BC,
are proportional to their altitudes, and these altitudes again
are proportional to the distances of the lines Ad and Yp.
from BC, wherefore the tendency wTich the pressure Yp
has to turn the system round BC as an axis, is just equal
to that which Aa would have, and thus the expression,
2 Add = 0 or 2 Pa = 0, may be interpreted as signifying that
the tendencies of the several pressures to turn the system
round any assumed axis BC must amount to zero; and it
is easy to see that if, while 2 Yp the sum of the pressures
themselves is zero, the sum of the tendencies round any
two axes having different azimuths round the direction Yp
be also zeroes, the system must be in equilibrium.
The above reasoning can, in strictness, only apply to a
network or skeleton of straight rods connecting the points
to which the pressures are applied ; and seeing that we
know nothing, and are not likely ever to know anything
of the manner in which pressure is conveyed from one
point to another of a solid body, it is only by inference
that we can extend the doctrine to the general case of
points anyhow connected. Experience, however, abun¬
dantly testifies that this law of equilibrium is universal.
This course of reasoning leads us to the remarkable
conclusion that the pressure Yp exerts the same influence,
so far as the ultimate resistances are concerned, at what¬
ever point in the line of its direction it may act; but it is
to be noticed, that the strains internal to the system of
connecting-rods are altered by every change in the posi¬
tion of the point of attachment.
3 z •;
Equili¬
brium t>f
parallel
Pressures.
Fig. 19.
I
516
Centre of
Gravity.
STATICS.
CENTRE OF GRAVITY.
Gravitation affords the best example of parallel pres¬
sures ; each part of a body tends downwards, or has weight,
and thus the mere resting of any object whatever upon a
support implies the equilibrium of a multitude of conflict¬
ing pressures.
In order to examine this important subject minutely, let
us consider the case of two ma¬
terial points, A and B, connected
by a rigid straight rod AB.
If AB be divided at E, so that
EB : EA :: A : B a pressure of
— (A + B) applied at_E would re¬
sist the two strains A and B, and
this in whatever position the rod
AEB may be placed. E, in that
case, is called the centre of gra¬
vity of the two weights A and B. Fig. 20.
If we put a?A, xB, xE to represent the distances of A, B, E,
from some assumed plane surface, we have—
(A + B) xE = Axk + Bxb.
Suppose now that there is a third point C, the weight
of which is C, join CE and divide it at F, so that
CF : FE :: A + B : C ; then a pressure — (A + B + C) ap¬
plied at the point F would resist A + B applied at E, and
C applied at C, that is, it would resist the three pressures
A, B, C, applied at the points A, B, C.
Taking a fourth point D, which may or may not be in
the same plane with A, B, C, join DF, and divide DF in
the ratio of A + B + C : D ; the pressure — (A + B + C + D)
acting at G would balance the weights A, B, C, D, placed
at the several points A, B, C, D. In this case G is called
the centre of gravity of the four weights A, B, C, D ; and
in reference to any plane,
(^A + B + C + 1)) xB = Aa?A + B:cb + (^Xq + L)^rB.
As this line of argument can be continued to any extent,
it follows, generally, that if x, y, z be the co-ordinates re¬
ferred to three planes, the position of the centre of gravity
(j of any number of heavy points A, B, C, &c., is given
by the equations—
a-G =
2 Axa
2 A
.. 2 A//a _
IJg — ' » ZG~-
2 A
2 Az,
2 A
ranged from either end. The centre of gravity of each pair Centre of
of such particles is at the middle point, wherefore that middle Gravity,
point is the centre of gravity of the whole. But this mode
of reasoning will not apply in more complex cases. Re¬
presenting by w the whole weight of the thin rod AB, and
by l its length, let us divide the whole length into a great
number p of equal parts, of which Yp may represent one;
zu
the weight of this part Yp must be —, and the tendency of
P
this weight to turn the rod round A as a fulcrum must be
more than if an equal weight were hung on at P, and less
than if it were suspended at p; hence, if the number of
nl
parts in AP be w, and therefore AP itself —, the effect of
71X1)1/
Yp in turning the rod round A is more than  , and less
pp
than d-1) ^ the same may be said of each of the
pp
other parts Yp, it follows that the tendency of the
whole weight to turn the rod round A as a fulcrum
is more than (0+1+2 + 3....p—l) — and less than
wl
pp
(1+2 + 3+ p) — > or, summing these series of
pp a
p p — 1
natural numbers, more than - r—— wl. but less than
P ZP
- PTJ: wi . these limits may be otherwise written A — M
p 2p \ P)
wl
and
By taking the number p enormously
1
These formulae, however, only apply to discrete points:
in order to make them applicable to concrete matter we
must extend the calculations to the infinity of infinitely
minute parts of which we may conceive solid matter to be
composed. For the purposes of this inquiry, we regard a
solid body as composed of a multitude of slices, which may
be rendered so numerous and so thin, that each one may,
so to speak, be regarded as a mere surface. Such surfaces,
again, we divide into elongated sections, which, when made
excessively narrow, are almost lines; and these lines we
again divide into multitudes of parts, which, from their
smallness, we call points. The ideas of physical points,
lines, surfaces, thus differ essentially from those which the
geometer designates by the same names; and it is also to
be noticed that this ideal decomposition of a solid body into
an infinity of infinitely minute particles, does not show
either the infinite divisibility of matter, or any other fact
concerning its physical constitution.
I he centre of gravity of a uniform physical straight line
is, clearly, atits middle. This
becomes evident when we At1 c 
consider it as composed of A *"
equal parts symmetricallyar-
large, the value of the fraction - is made insignificant, and
P
each of the limits approaches to ^ wl, which thus takes the
place of the sum 2 Ax of the general formula. Dividina:
this by w, we find for the distance of the centre of gravity
G from the end A, the value AG = ^ that is, G is in the
middle of AB. The ordinary operation of integrating is,
virtually, this process in disguise. Thus, if we put AY = x,
Yp = dx, the weight of Yp is and its effect in turning
wxdx
the lever round A (or its moment as it is called)
/
w 1
the integral of this, viz., -j - x1, represents the moment of
AP, which, on putting l for x becomes ^ wl for the moment
of the wdiole rod as before.
The position of the centre of gravity of a uniform flat
trigonal surface may be found
by an extension of the same
method.
Fig. 21.
the trigon ABC; through A
draw an axis Ay parallel
to BC, and suppose the sur¬
face to be divided into trape¬
zoids by lines QR. qr drawm
also parallel to BC. Put
l for the length of the
perpendicular AD, and sup¬
pose it divided into p equal parts n of which go to
ri1
AP ; then the weight of the trigon AQR is —w, while that
Centre of
Gravity.
STATICS.
547
(w+lY2
of \qr is ^ ; iv, so that the weight of the trapezoid
OR/o is w. The moment of this in reference to
^ pp
the axis Ay is more than - ^nJr^ wj an(j jess t]ian ^+J_
' p pp p
^-n Al wl- it is therefore between (2«2 + w.) ^-r, and
pp K ' pA
(2/j2 + 3ra+ 1) —. Giving to p all values from 0 to jd — 1
P *
successively, and summing, we find that the moment of the
whole surface is between
 2   wl
{2 (02 + l2 + . . • - 1 ) + (0 + 1 + . . . . p - l)} ^ and
r  2   , Wl
{2 (02+l2+ p-1 ) + 3 (0 + 1 + p- l) + p} —3>
or, summing these series, between
wlmi
Wherefore, on supposing p to be an enormously large
number, the true value of the moment of the whole trigon
2
is - wl, and the distance of the centre of gravity from the
O
axis Ay is two-thirds of the altitude AD. Now the centre
of gravity must also be at the distance of two-thirds of the
altitude drawn from C to AB : wherefore, it is the inter¬
section of the lines which join the corners with the middles
of the opposite sides. The centre of gravity of the surface
of a trigon coincides with that of three equal weights placed
at its three corners.
Similarly it may be shown that the centre of gravity of
a tetrahedron or triangular pyramid, is the intersection of
the four lines which join the four corners with the centres
of gravity of the opposite faces, and therefore coincides
with that of four equal weights placed at the four corners.
Since all polygons may be decomposed into trigons, and
all polyhedrons into tetrahedrons, we can easily find the
centre of gravity of any rectilineal figure, or of any flat¬
faced solid, by imagining the weight of each of the com¬
ponent parts accumulated at its centre of gravity, and then
finding the centre of gravity of these points. In the cases
of surfaces bounded by curved lines, or of solids bounded
by curved surfaces, the nature of the curve necessarily
enters as an element of the computation. One or two ex¬
amples may suffice to explain the procedure.
Let it be required to find the centre of gravity of a para¬
bolic segment CAD.
Draw any chord QR parallel to CD, bisect CD in ]3,
QR in P, and join BP,
producing it to A; then,
according to the property of
the parabola, the line Ay
drawn parallel to CD is a
tangent to the curve; all
chords parallel to CD are
bisected by AB, and their
lengths are in ratios sub¬
duplicate of the distances
intercepted from A. Hence,
if we put, as before, w for
the whole weight or area,
l for AB, x for AP, dx
for Pjo, also b for CD, and a for the angle ABD, we
have QR = Z»/~i a?*; wherefore the area of the surface
comprised between the proximate ordinates QR and qr
is bl~^ sit? a . x* dx, and its moment round the axis
Ay is this, multiplied by x sin a or dm = bl~ * sin a2. x* dx.
On integrating these expressions, we find for the area
QAR, | bl¬
and for its moment 5/" ^ sin a2, xv;
o
Fig. 24.
Integrating these
_ .. x 8r — 3x
gravity trom A is - ——
— tt ^rx2 — - x ^ , m =
Centre of
Gravity.
so that, making x equal to the whole length l, we have
2 2
w~~ bl sin a, while the whole moment is ^ bP sin a2; and
therefore the distance of the centre of gravity from the
3
tangent Ay is / sin a : wherefore, if AG be made three-
o
fifth parts of AB, the centre of gravity must lie in the
ordinate drawn through G; but, as all these ordinates are
bisected, their centres of gravity must be in AB, where¬
fore G itself is the centre of gravity of the parabolic seg¬
ment.
As an example from among solids, we may take the
segment of a sphere. Let
OA —r be the radius of a
sphere, and let it be proposed
to find the centre of gravity
of the segment having AP = a?
for its altitude. Making Pp
= dx and leading planes PQ,
pq perpendicular to AO, the
solid comprised between these
two planes is the differen¬
tial of the solidity, or dw,
but the area of the circle de¬
scribed by PQ is tt . PQ2, or tt . AP . PB = 7r (2r.z-ar)>
wherefore div = ir (2rx — x2) dx, and the moment of this is
dm^iv (2rx2 — xz)dx round an axis passing through A.
we have
wherefore the distance of the centre of
and its distance from P is
x Ar — x
4 3r — x'
On making x = r we find that the distance of
the centre of gravity of a hemisphere from the vertex is-^- r,
8
3
and from the centre —r.
When a solid body is suspended by a thread, it takes
such a position that its centre of gravity lies in the direc¬
tion of the thread; hence, if we suspend an object first
from one point and then from another, noting the direction
each time, the intersection of these two directions will give
us the position of the centre of gravity.
If, when a body is laid upon a flat surface, the vertical
line drawn through the centre of gravity pass within the
convex polygon formed by joining the points at which it
touches, it rests securely. Any attempt to overturn it is
accompanied by a rise in the position of the centre of
gravity, and as soon as the disturbing influence ceases, the
body returns to its former site. But if the under surface
of the object be curved, the slightest influence causes a
displacement: if the arrangement be such that the centre
of gravity tend to rise, as is the case with a spherical seg¬
ment laid on a flat surface, the tendency is to return again
to the first position; in such a case the equilibrium is said
to be stable; if, as in the case of a complete sphere or
cylinder, the centre of gravity describe a horizontal line, the
equilibrium is indifferent; and if, as when the centre of
gravity lies above the centre of curvature, that point tend
to come lower, the body falls still farther, and the equili¬
brium is said to be unstable.
In all statical computations we may proceed as if the
whole weight of a body were concentrated at its centre of
gravity; but whenever we have to consider motion this
hypothesis must be abandoned, because the motion of the
548
STATICS.
General centre
Condition bod}7,
of Equili¬
brium.
of gravity does not represent the whole motion of a
GENERAL CONDITION OF EQUILIBRIUM.
The equilibrium of a number of pressures, acting in
various directions upon a solid body, may be investigated
bv decomposing each pressure into three, acting seveially
in directions parallel to the axes of co-ordinates x, y, z, and
considering that each set of components shpuld, separately,
be in equilibrium.
VIRTUAL VELOCITIES.
The whole doctrines of statics are summed up in one
general proposition, from which we can most readily obtain
the solution of any particular case. To this proposition the
name, law of virtual velocities, has unfortunately been given;
in its statical aspect it has nothing to do with velocity. As
a thorough comprehension of its import almost amounts to
a complete knowledge of this department of science, we
shall endeavour to lay it clearly before the reader.
Let us suppose that the point P is kept in equilibrium
by three ropes PA, PB, PC,
stretched each from a considerable
distance. This being the case, let
us imagine that, by some agent
exterior to the system, the point P
has been displaced to p, the ropes E
now taking up the positions pa, pb,
pc. By this derangement some of
the ropes may have been pulled for¬
wards, some may have been let back¬
wards, Let us suppose that three
thin, straight wires are thrust, at
right angles, one through each of the ropes, so as to form
a trigon EDF; then, since this tr'igon is evidently similar
to any trigon formed by drawing lines parallel to the direc¬
tions of the three ropes, each of its sides may be taken to
represent the strain on the rope to which it is perpendi¬
cular; that is, EF may represent the tension of PA, FD
the tension of PB, and DE the tension of PC. With the
derangement of the system the trigon EDF is displaced,
being brought into the position edf such that the lines
Dr/, Ee, F/ are parallel and equal to Vp. The distance
between EF ande/, measured perpendicularly, is, obviously,
the distance by which the rope PA has been pulled for¬
ward; so the distance between FD and fd shows by how
much the rope PB has been let backwards, and so of the
third rope PC. The area of the rhomboid EF/e thus repre¬
sents the product of the tension of the rope P A by the dis¬
tance through which that tension has been overcome ; that
is, the quantity of work which has been gained upon it. In
the same way the area FDofjf represents the quantity of
work lost by the letting down of the rope PB, and D</eE
the work lost by letting down the rope PC. Now, if, from
the pentagon EFfde we take away the trigon edf, there
remains the rhomboid EF/e; while if, from the same pen¬
tagon, we take away EDF, the two rhomboids FD df,
DdeE remains; wherefore the gain oi' work on the pope
PA is exactly equal to the sum of the two losses on PB
and PC : on the whole, then, there is neither gain nor loss,
The same kind of reasoning can be applied to $11 comr
binations of pressures, and thus we obtain the following Virtual
general law, that “ if any system of pressures in equilibrium Velocities
be slightly disturbed, there is neither gain nor loss of work
by the disturbance,”
Strictly speaking, this proposition is only true of infinit¬
esimally small disturbances, and this circumstance is in¬
tended to be pointed out by the use of the word virtual in
the title, law of virtual velocities, which is given to this
theorem.
Using the word work to mean the product of a pressure
by the distance through which that pressure has been over¬
come, and representing it in general by the letter w, let us
suppose that by the performance of a certain quantity of
work some system has been brought into its actual position,
as represented by the co-ordinates x, y, z. If now the
system be subjected to a definite change, represented by the
symbols dx, Sy, 8z of finite or actual differences, the quan¬
tities of work gained or lost on the several strains may be
deduced from purely geometrical considerations, and, ac¬
cording to Taylor’s well-known theorem, the change in the
quantity of work is given by the expression—
„ die 8x dw 8y dw Sz
&‘,= <teT+AM+rfF 7
d2?c Sx2 dhv
dx
drw 8y
\ .2^dx . dy
8x 8y
T T +
d2w 8x 8z
dx . dz 1 1
dy*
L2 +
8'2iv
8y Sz dhv 8z-
8y .8z l 1 dz1 1.2
+ &c.
Now, the law enunciated above refers only to the fiist
differential co-efficients; that is to say, for mere equilibrium
, 8w 8iv 8w , . . .
we must have -?r-, tt- , v- each zero ; and these conditions
bx by1 bz
must hold good in reference to every separate point of the
system.
The values of the second derivatives determine whether
the equilibrium be stable, indifferent, or instable. When
these derivatives have positive values the equilibrium is
stable; it required the application of actual work to change
the position of the system ; and when the extraneous pres¬
sures cease to act, the system again returns to the position
of equilibrium. When the higher derivatives also are zeroes,
the equilibrium is indifferent; and, when the second deri¬
vatives are negative, the system, if once disturbed from the
position of equilibrium, will tend to go still farther from that
position.
This theorem, besides being of great value as enabling
us readily to investigate the strains in any structure, is im¬
portant as throwing a clear light upon the general action of
machines as transmitters of force. As the machine con¬
tains in itself no source of power, it can only convey force,
it cannot augment it: thus, although a crane enable one
man to raise at once a load which he could only have lifted
piece-meal, it does not enable him to do more work than
he could have done in the same time with the load divided
to suit his strength, it only enables him to perform the work
more conveniently ; nay, on account of the friction of the
parts, it even reduces slightly the actual amount of work
done. This consideration at once dispels all those dreams
about perpetual motions which have emptied the purses of
so many schemers, and, at times, even ruined their in¬
tellects, (e. s.)
Statistics.
STATISTICS. 549
STATISTICS is a term derived from the German word
Staat, a state or body of men existing together in social
union. It was first introduced (at least in its present sense)1
in 1749 by Professor Achenwall of Gottingen, who has the
credit of being the founder of the science. He was the
first that attempted to estimate the power and character of
a state at a given time, by a systematic examination of its
social condition, its progress in civilization, and its natural
resources; and to determine the nature and force of those
various circumstances in the history and condition of a
people that go to form their character.
Statistics, therefore, concerns itself with man as exist¬
ing in society, and its province comprises everything that
bears upon his condition. “ As all things on earth were
given to man for his use, and all things in creation were so
ordained as to contribute to his advantage and comfort, and
as whatever affects man individually affects also man in a state
of society, it follows that statistics enter more or less into
every branch of science, and form that part of each which
immediately connects it with human interests.” {Journal
of the London Statistical Society, vol. i.) It is difficult to
define the limits of a science embracing so wide a field, and
comprehending so great a variety of subjects. Its main ob¬
ject, however, is the collection and arrangement of facts,
from which a knowledge may be attained of the nature and
power of those laws on which the character, condition, and
happiness of man depend.
Man in this world is subject to certain fixed laws, which
form his character and determine his condition, and in pro¬
portion as these are understood and acted upon will his hap¬
piness be increased and his progress in civilisation accel¬
erated. These are, however, so various, and act and react
upon each other in so many different ways, that it is difficult
or impossible to trace their workings in individual cases,
and hence it is only by taking bodies of men in similar cir¬
cumstances that we can arrive at a satisfactory knowledge
of them, and estimate their effects. The laws themselves
are as pertain, fixed, and complete, as those of astronomy.
We cannot indeed predict the history of society like that
of the celestial appearances for thousands of years to come ;
but this arises not from any uncertainty in the laws them¬
selves, but from the data to which these laws tire to be ap¬
plied. The data in astronomy are as certain as the laws
themselves: “ The circumstances, on the contrary, which
influence the condition and progress of society are innu¬
merable and perpetually changing; and though they all
change in obedience to causes, and therefore to laws, the
multitude of causes is so great as to defy our limited powers
of calculation.” But while it maybe impossible to attain an
amount of knowledge necessary for prediction, “ there is
nothing chimerical in the hope that general laws .... really
admit of being ascertained,” sufficient to enable us, “ in any
given condition of social affairs, .... to understand by what
causes it had, in any and every particular, been made what
it was ; whether it was tending to any and what changes ;
what effects each feature of its existing state was likely to
produce in the future; and by what means any of those
effects might be prevented, modified, or accelerated, or a
different class of effects superinduced.” {See J. Stuart
Mill’s Logic, b. vi„ c. 6, § 2.)
We cannot, however, by d priori reasoning discover the
laws which regulate the complex fabric of human society ;
we must proceed by induction from well-ascertained facts,
and hence the value of that science that more particularly
concerns itself with the collection and arrangement of facts,
by which alone these can be ascertained. Statistics, then,
is that important branch of social science which collects,
arranges, and compares the facts from which the politician
may ascertain those principles in accordance with which Statistics.
governments may best promote the wellbeing and happi-
ness of their subjects, and the political economist those laws
that regulate the production and distribution of wealth. But
while the statist collects materials for the politician and
political economist, he must from them learn in what manner
and in what directions to pursue his investigations; how
to arrange his facts so as to bring out the truths which they
are calculated to convey; what to collect as valuable, and
what to reject as worthless. Facts collected in ignorance
of the manner in which they are to be applied, or of the
principles which they tend to illustrate, are in mpst cases of
little value. Hence it is that we so frequently find facts
collected that convey no useful information, or arranged
in such a way as that they tend only to mislead.
But while the statist furnishes the politician and political
economist with facts on which to found their reasonings,
and from which to draw their conclusions, he, on the other
hand, avails himself largely of the labours of the historian
and geographer. Indeed, statistics is that science that takes
up and shows the practical bearings of the facts of history
and geography upon the condition of man. Thus, while his¬
tory narrates the long series of occurrences that are to be
found in the annals of a conn try, statistics only deals with those
of them that may have contributed to form the character
and fix the political and social condition of the people.
The historian, too, usually travels over an extended period,
while the statist brings his facts to bear upon a particular
time. Hence, in the words of Professor Schlpzer, the pupil
and successor of Achenwall, “ Statistics is history at a stand ;
history is statistics in a state of progression.” With geo¬
graphy the science of statistics is even more intimately con¬
nected, for the physical characteristics of a country are a
chief element in determining the condition of the in¬
habitants. The heat, cold, moisture, &c„ of the climate
affect their health and energies; while the climate is in¬
fluenced by the position and physical features of the country,
—its mountains, valleys, plains, lakes, marshes, vegetable pro¬
ductions, and state of cultivation. The climate, position,
elevation, and nature of the surface and soil determine the
animal and vegetable productions, which in their turn im¬
part a distinctive character to the people, and direct their
labours. A fertile and plain country draws their attention
to the peaceful pursuits of husbandry and pasturage ; a
mountainous, rugged, and barren country, abounding in
wild animals, renders them active, hardy, and fearless, and
leads them to seek subsistence in the phase ; while in the
vicinity of seas and rivers abounding in fish, piscatory
pursuits are fostered. Harbours and navigable rivers
incline them to commerce, which increases as the want ot
foreign products is felt, as the country affords them articles
pf exchange, and as the means of internal communication
are favourable; while mineral wealth draws their atten¬
tion to mining and the working of metals. Hence, while
geography describes the position and physical conditions of
a country, its mountains, rivers, climate, productions, &c.,
statistics treats of the political importance ot these, and ot
their bearings upon the condition ot the inhabitants at a
given time. As the statist looks for direction to the poli¬
tician and political economist, not less ought the geographer
and historian to learn from him how to prosecute their re¬
searches, so as to bring intp due prominence those circum¬
stances that tend chiefly to stamp the character of a people ;
for in reality their labours are of value as they can be
brought practically to bear upon the conditions of social life.
But indeed every science that bears upon the condition
of man enters more or less into statistics; and on the other
hand derives valuable aid from it. Law, medicine, che-
1 The noun Stntista, signifying a statesman, and the adjeetive Statisticus, occur about three-quarters of a century earlier in Thesaurus
Jterumpublicarum, by Ph. Andreas Oldenburger, Geneva, 1675.
550
STATISTICS.
Statistics, mis try, botany, zoology, geology, meteorology, ethnology,
^technology, and anthropology, all contribute facts that are ot
value in statistics. Its character, however, is distinct from all
of them ; for while, for example, the jurist studies the laws
of a country systematically, according to their nature, or the
subjects with which they deal; the statist views them only
and judges of them as they affect the social system. We
shall, however, perhaps, best illustrate the importance and
practical bearings of the science by noticing some of the
principal subjects that come within its sphere. As what¬
ever affects the condition of man in society forms a part of
statistics, it follows that a statistical account of a country
ought to include an exposition of all those circumstances in
the physical characteristics of the country, or in the social
condition of the people that influence their character, minister
to their subsistence, add to their power, or tend to increase
their happiness. “ Statistik eines Landes und Volkes ist der
Inbegrijf seiner StaatsmerkwurdigkeiterU’ (Achenwall.) A
statistical account of a country therefore includes—Under
Physical Features—An account of its position, extent, and natural
divisions; its boundaries; the extent and character of its coast;
the height, form, and direction of its mountains; the extent and
elevation of its plains; the character of its valleys ; the length,
direction, size, and velocity of its rivers; the nature and extent of
its lakes and marshes ; its springs.
OZmate—The variations of temperature ; fall of rain ; direction
of the prevailing winds ; atmospheric pressure.
Geology—The geological formations of the country ; its various
mineral resources ; character of the soil.
Botany and Zoology—The number and distribution of the various
species of animals and plants, with their uses as ministering to the
necessities or comforts of the people, as supplying them with mate¬
rials for labour, or as furnishing them with articles of trade.
Agriculture—The extent of cultivated land, heaths, forests, pas¬
tures, &c.; the progress of agriculture ; modes of cultivation ; agri¬
cultural implements; fertility of the soil; the different kinds of
crops; their amount, and the proportion they bear to the wants of
the people; the number of the various kinds of cattle, and their
uses in agriculture or domestic economy.
Mining—The number, character, and productiveness of the mines;
the quantities and values of the different ores raised; the progress
of mining, and modes of carrying on operations.
Fisheries—The various kinds of sea and river fisheries; their
importance, and the means and manner of prosecuting them.
Manufactures—Their progress and present state ; the different
branches of manufacture ; their principal seats ; their importance,
as contributing to the wealth of the country, or as affording em¬
ployment and the means of subsistence to the people ; the amount
and value of the labour expended upon them ; the machinery em¬
ployed ; how far the raw materials are home produced or imported ;
how far the manufactured articles are necessaries or luxuries, are
for home consumption or for exportation.
Commerce—The amount of the exports and imports; the quanti¬
ties and values of the principal articles; the principal ports; the
countries with which trade is chiefly carried on, and the principal
articles sent to or brought from each; by whom, or under what flags
the trade is principally carried on ; how far the imports are neces¬
saries or luxuries ; how far for direct consumption, for manufac¬
ture, or for exportation ; how far the exports on raw or manufac¬
tured goods, are the natural production of the country or imported
or manufactured. It includes, also, an account of the nature,
amount, &c., of the internal or coasting trade.
Facilities for Commerce—The amount of shipping belonging to
the country ; amount of sailing and steam vessels; the state of the
harbours ; the length of the navigable rivers and canals ; the nature
and length of the roads and railways; nature of conveyances.
Population—The number at different periods ; races; rate of in¬
crease ; emigration and immigration; proportion of births and
deaths ; the proportion of the sexes, and marriage relations; the
different ages of the population ; the average duration of life, and
how affected by locality, climate, occupation, or mode of life; the
nature and prevalence of certain diseases ; the proportion of the
population to the production, wealth, and consumption of the
country.
Social Condition—The general character, disposition, and habits
of the people ; their manners and customs; their progress in civi¬
lization; the different classes of society; their numbers and rela¬
tions to one another; the social condition, and intellectual and
moral culture of each ; houses; the distribution of wealth and
power; the occupations of the people ; the proportion of capital to
labour ; skilled and unskilled labour; wages; prices of provi- Statistic
sions ; amount of chief articles of consumption; national vices ; i
pauperism.
Language and Literature—Character and growth of the language ;
different dialects; affinity with other languages:—Literature, its
character, state, and progress; the branches in which most distin¬
guished ; names of principal authors ; different classes of publica¬
tions ; literary associations ; public libraries; restrictions on lite¬
rature.
Science and Art—State and progress of; branches in which
principally distinguished; institutions for the promotion of, as
scientific associations, academies, museums, picture galleries, &c.
Government—Its nature, form, and progress; the legislative,
judicial, and executive functions, in whom vested, and how carried
out; the character of its laws ; the political divisions of the country ;
how far and in what way the different classes are represented;
public works, and other means adopted by government for the en¬
couragement of industry and commerce, or for promoting the social
and intellectual progress of the people.
Religion—Its character, condition, and progress; its connection
with the state; the various sects; toleration; number of churches
and extent of accommodation ; the various classes of the clergy ;
their emoluments ; the amount and sources of the church revenues,
as provided by the state, by voluntary contributions, &c.
Education—The number and character of the various seminaries
of education ; their efficiency ; how supported ; fees; the number
of teachers; their incomes; number and ages of scholars, and their
proportion to population, within the same ages; how far the state
controls or interferes with education.
CVme—State of crime; different classes of offences; the social
condition of offenders, age, sex, education, &c.; number of convic¬
tions ; proportion of convictions to committals ; the different kinds
of punishment; means for the punishment or prevention of crime,
prisons, reformatories, police, &c.
Defence—The natural defences of the country ; its fortresses ; the
amount and efficiency of the army and navy.
Finance—Amount of national debt, its character and growth ;
the various sources of revenue ; the gross and net amount received
from each; the proportion of income to expenditure; the various
branches of expenditure.
Taxation—Amount of; its character as direct or indirect; its
branches; articles on which imposed; how levied; expenses of
collection; how far protective or retaliatory; effects on industry
or commerce ; recent alterations and effects of.
Money, Ac.—The weights, measures, and moneys of the country,
and their equivalents; banks and banking system, &c.
Antiquities—The different classes of antiquities; their character
and age ; their state of preservation, $;c.
Authorities—The various sources of information, at least so far
as not previously referred to, in order to afford the means of
judging what degree of reliance can be placed upon the various
statements.
Information on these various points, so far as applicable
to any particular state is necessary, in order to a compre¬
hensive knowledge of it—in order to understand its present
position, to trace the various circumstances by which it has
been brought about, and to acquire some knowledge of the
action and reaction that is constantly taking place among
its various elements. How few the means are that we yet
possess of drawing up a complete statistical account of any
country it is scarcely necessary to say. Those who have
occasion to search for such information know how meagre
are the materials and how unreliable the sources. On many
points, the governments of the various countries can alone
be looked to for information ; and they possess numerous
facilities for carrying out such investigations. In our own
country, a statistical department has been connected with
the Board of Trade since 1832, and has collected and pub¬
lished many valuable facts relating to our own and other
countries. We are still, however, in this respect far be¬
hind several of the continental states. Lord Stanley, in
his opening address before section F (Economical Science
and Statistics) of the British Association in 1856, forcibly
points out the importance to the government of statistical
facts, and thus alludes to the necessity of establishing a
special department of government, charged with the annual
publication of statistical facts relative to our national affairs.
“ Statistics,” said he, “ are the f unction of the state, in a
STATISTICS.
Statistics, sense in which no other science is so. . . . We have sta-
tistics enough presented to Parliament every session, but they
are, in the great majority of cases, called for by individuals.
They are drawn out to suit the particular purpose of those
who move for them : they are accordingly deficient in unity,
and often of no use beyond the moment. Now I speak
from some personal observation, when I say, that at a cost
hardly greater than that of those desultory, fragmentary,
isolated returns (which have in addition the inconvenience,
coming as they do at unexpected times, and without any
regularity, of throwing a sudden increase of work on par¬
ticular offices), it would be possible to present to the nation
such a yearly resume of administrative statistics, as should,
to a very great degree, supersede the present system (if
system it can be called) of moving for returns as and when
they are wanted. I have said, that I think a statistical
department desirable instead of a statistical branch in every
department; because the former method gives better secu¬
rity for unity of plan, and because the work will be best
done by those whose sole and undivided business it is.” In
1833 the statistical section of the British Association for
the advancement of science was formed; and in 1834, the
London Statistical Society was founded, both of which have
done much in the way of collecting and collating important
statistical information, and of diffusing a knowledge of the
principles and value of the science.
1 here are indeed some who seek to confine this science
exclusively to an exposition of the state of a country or
people, at a particular time, and to such circumstances in
their condition as may be reduced to numerical calculation
and exhibited in tables. But this is to deprive the science
of all that is most interesting and instructive, and to render
it of little practical value. Numbers are undoubtedly a most
important part of statistics. They are that which gives pre¬
cision and accuracy to the science, and without which it
would be little else than a mass of generalities and uncer¬
tainties. Figures, however, of themselves unaccompanied
by any explanation of the nature of the subject upon which
they bear, and especially without any account of the causes
that may have influenced them, or the circumstances by
which they were attended, can lead only to false conclu¬
sions, or to no conclusion at all. Figures are the mere dry
bones of statistics, which require to be systematically ar¬
ranged and explained, and the principles which they illus¬
trate pointed out before they can be of real value. In the
same way, to know merely the population, productions, or
trade of a country or place at a given time, is of compara¬
tively little value, unless we possess also the same facts for
different periods, in order to compare them, and to know
how far, and in what particulars, progress or decline has
taken place. It is from comparing similar facts of the same
country for different times, or of different countries at the
same time, and noting the difference of circumstances in
each, that the statist arrives at a knowledge of those prin¬
ciples that are constantly at work in society ; and hence
to confine his operations to mere figures, or to a particular
time, would be to deprive them of their chief value. In¬
deed, nothing has tended more to bring the science into
general disrepute than the attempt thus to limit the sphere
of its operations. It is by being thus restricted that statistics
has been so frequently made the means of promulgating or
upholding gross errors. When every one is lelt to explain
or arrange figures in his own way, there is scarcely a theory
however wild, or an error however palpable, to which an
ignorant or designing person may not by means of them
give an air of truth ; and thus occasion has been given for
the saying, that “ anything may be proved by figures.”
1 he confidence, too, with which they are handled, and
the appearance of accuracy which they bear, lead to their
being received without a due amount of examination.
Hence statistics is a favourite mode of argument with cer-
551
tain classes of speakers and writers, as it is generally found Statistics,
to carry conviction in proportion as their hearers or readers
are ignorant of the principles of the science, or are unable
to test their assertions by the rules of sound criticism. In¬
deed, there is nothing about which one ought to be more
sceptical than the great mass of what are called statistical
facts, however accurate and imposing they may appear.
Statistics, like every other science, has its principles which
require to be known, and in accordance with which its
facts are to be expounded. It concerns itself chiefly
with the accumulation and comparison of facts, and does
not admit of any kind of speculation. The statist must,
therefore, not only be a man in whose judgment and
honesty we can confide, but he must also come to the con¬
sideration of his subject with a mind void of preconceived
theories, otherwise he may be led, even unconsciously, into
a partial or deceptive exposition of the facts.
The statist has, first of all, to ascertain what reliance can
be placed upon the facts or figures which are to form the
basis of inquiry—from what sources they have been ob¬
tained, and how or for what purpose they have been col¬
lected. Figures collected for a specific purpose may often
be of little or no value for one of a different nature, as de¬
tails may have been omitted, and distinctions neglected to
be made, which would materially affect the result. Even
when these are collected with the utmost possible care, and
under the most favourable circumstances, they may be of
such a nature as that the parties applied to for information
may have a direct interest in concealing the truth ; and
even where such temptations do not ex st, ignorance of the
exact nature of the information required, or objections to
inquiries o'" a personal or inquisitorial nature, may lead
many to make false or misleading statements. It would
be easy to illustrate this by referring to official or parlia¬
mentary documents of our own country ; and when we find
such errors among ourselves, with all our appliances for col¬
lecting information, and all our efforts to ensure accuracy,
what can we expect of countries and times less civilized ?
There is no more frequent cause of error than that of
taking as complete what is only a partial statement of facts.
Where a traveller or historian is the source of information,
the statist has to ascertain his character for accuracy or
impartiality, the means he had of obtaining information, and
the point of view from which he looks at the subject.
Having ascertained what degree of reliance can be placed
upon the facts themselves, or made allowance for defici¬
encies, the next duty of the statist is to arrange them so as
to find out what inferences may be legitimately drawn from
them. By a careful analysis and comparison of the facts
he attempts to ascertain the nature and force of the various
laws that have been acting upon them. It is to be borne
in mind, that in society no effect can have only one cause,
neither can one cause have only one effect. Every one of
the social phenomena is the result not of one only, but of a
multitude of causes. “ Whatever affects in an appreciable
degree any one element of the social state, affects through
it all the other elements There is no social pheno¬
menon which is not more or less influenced by every other
part of the condition of the same society, and therefore by
every cause which is influencing any other of the contem¬
poraneous social phenomena” (Mill’s Zlogw). Every effect,
therefore, in the social system is produced by a complexity
of circumstances, and “ amounts precisely to the sum of
the effects of the circumstances taken singly” (Ibid).
Hence it is, that as we cannot know all the circumstances
that may have been at work in producing a certain result,
statistics cannot be considered as an exact science, but
rather as a science of probabilities. But while we cannot
know all the causes, there are yet in every case certain of
them that have been more immediately concerned in bring¬
ing about the result, and it is to these that the statist
552 S T A
Statistics, principally directs his attention. Having, for instance,
^ » y * ascertained the average duration of life in a country at a
particular time, he arranges the figures by which that result
has been obtained, according to the circumstances that tend
more immediately to shorten or prolong life, and thus ascer¬
tains how far each of them affects the general result.
While the statist thus deals with those causes that have
been more immediately influencing a particular result, an
important principle comes into operation to give precision
and accuracy to his calculations—namely, that the influence
of minor disturbing causes diminishes, as the area of his
investigations increases, until, if the basis be sufficiently
extended^ he is justified in disregarding them altogether.
Thus, while the number of deaths in a country from any
special cause may, in a given year, be much modified or
aggravated by other causes, yet by taking the number of
the deaths from that cause over a number of years, or over
different countries, the disturbing causes will counteract or
neutralise each other. It is upon this principle that insur¬
ance companies are established. In dealing with great
numbers, the average duration of life can be calculated
with a surprising degree of precision. An insurance com¬
pany having only a small number of members, might be
ruined in a short time by a few deaths.
It is, however, in the comparison of facts of a similar
nature, either of different countries at the same time, or of
the same country at different times, that the statist requires
to exercise the greatest judgment, and manifest the greatest
care. In comparing, for example, the state of crime in this
country at present with that of a previous period, there are
many things that have to be taken into account besides the
proportion of criminals to population. Crime may now have
assumed a much lighter character, the means of detection
may be greater, lesser offences may have been brought into
the penal code, the meaning of terms may have changed, the
temptations or facilities to crime may have increased—all
these, and many other circumstances, have to be taken into
account before the two periods can be properly compared,
or their facts correctly reasoned upon. Much more have
circumstances like these to be carefully investigated in com¬
paring the state of crime in different countries. In com¬
paring the crime of different towns, the ages of the popu¬
lation is often an important element, for in some towns, as
where manufactures are largely carried on, there is always
a preponderance of persons at those ages at which the
tendency to crime is greatest. In towns, too, the induce¬
ments to crime are always greater than in rural districts.
It is by comparing the state of crime in the same or differ¬
ent countries under various circumstances that the statist
is enabled to discover and estimate the force of the various
causes that tend to its production, and at the same time to
ascertain the best means of repressing it,—of intimidating,
punishing, or reforming criminals. As the astronomer, by
finding a discrepancy between his calculations and observa¬
tions, is led to conclude the existence of some yet undis¬
covered disturbing cause, so the statist, if, in comparing
facts of a similar nature, and after making allowance for
difference of circumstances, he finds a marked discrepancy
still to exist, may readily infer that there are other causes at
work in the one case or the other, of which he is yet ignorant.
Among the errors that reasoners upon statistics fre¬
quently fall into, is the attributing of a social fact to one
only of its many antecedents or producing causes, without
any process of elimination or comparison of instances. It is
only by considering, as far as possible, all causes which
conjunctly influence a given effect, and compounding their
laws with one another, that we can infer the nature and
force of the determining circumstances. It is by tracing a
certain effect to its various producing causes, or a certain
cause down through its numerous effects, that a correct
knowledge of the social phenomena can be obtained. The
S T A
confounding of cause and effect, and the considering of two Statius,
circumstances as cause and effect which are both the result
of common causes, are also frequent sources of error.
To estimate the production, &c., of a country from that of
a small portion of it is always a very uncertain mode of pro¬
ceeding, and has frequently led to very grave errors. For
while on a large scale minor disturbing causes tend to neu¬
tralize each other, on a small scale some of them are
always to be found in excess, and thus greatly affect the
result when many times multiplied. As every cause in
the body social acts and is acted upon by numerous others,
many persons err in drawing conclusions from one state
of society, and applying them to others in which many
of the elements are not the same. Social science, like me¬
chanics, has to deal with conflicting forces,—with causes
counteracting or modifying one another. In mechanics, we
continually find two or more moving forces producing, not
motion but rest, or motion in a different direction from that
which would have been produced by either of the gener¬
ating forces acting separately. Hence it is that the same
cause is found to act very differently in different states of
society, even to the extent of being beneficial to some and
highly injurious to others; and hence, too, the error of
“all who found their theories of politics upon what is
called abstract right, that is to say, upon universal precepts.”
(Mill’s Logic.) It is rarely safe to introduce great or
sudden changes into a state, for however beneficial the
measure may be in itself, the number of opposing ele¬
ments with which it will have to contend may deprive it of
all utility, if not render it absolutely injurious ; whereas
small changes, or changes gradually introduced, may meet
with a number of favouring circumstances, which will
accelerate and increase their beneficial effects. (d. k.)
STATIUS, P. Papinius, a poet and grammarian, who
between the age of 13 and 19 was six times crowned
as a successful candidate in the Greek poetic games at
Naples. Dodwell conjectures that he was born a.d. 39, and
died a.d. 86. On the strength of his reputation he went
to Rome, where he arrived during the civil wars between
Yitellus and Vespasian. Soon after his arrival, the Capitol
was reduced to ashes ; and seeing in this disaster a fine
opportunity for artistic effect, he composed a poem, which
was published almost before the cinders had ceased to
smoke. This poem excited the admiration of the great men
of the day, and, above all, of the emperor himself. Statius
opened a school to teach Greek literature to the young
nobles, and he also instructed the Salii and other priests
in various branches of their duty with equal severity and
success. In spite, however, of his literary labours, he seems
to have left his son very little other patrimony beside the
half-dozen faded chaplets of pine and laurel which he had
won in the Neapolitan contests. The story that Domitian
made him a tutor, and presented him with a golden crown,
only rests on the authority of Maturantius, and may be a
mere mistaken inference from the language of the Epice-
dion in patrem. All his works, even the famous poem on
the Capitol, have perished, and he would probably have
been forgotten but for the reputation of his son.
Statius, P. Papinius, the son of the above, was prob¬
ably born about a.d. 61, and at a very early age he excited
by his precocious talents the admiration of his father’s
patrons. It was a miserable school for a young and clever
boy, and we trace the flatterer and protege in all his works.
Before his father’s death he w on a crown at the Neapolitan
games, and was thrice victor in the Alban Quinquatria.
During Domitian’s reign he and Martial were the accredited
poets of the imperial court. At that time poems were first
made known by public recitation; a pernicious custom, which
had been disliked and discouraged by Horace, but which
had increased under the injudicious approval of Ovid, and the
practice and patronage of Nero and Domitian. A most bril.
S T A
Statius, liant and lively picture of these public readings is given by
M. Nisard in his Etudes sur les Poetes de la Decadence,
from particulars gleaned out of the writings of Pliny,
Martial, and Seneca. Statius was the most fashionable
reciter of the day; and even Juvenal, who reckons “the
poets spouting in the dog-days” among the curses of Rome,
speaks with enthusiasm of the delight which was felt in the
city when Statius had promised to read some fresh Sylva
or new book of the Thebaid.
At length, however, even his popularity began to wane.
He was defeated in the quinquennial games, and this in¬
duced him to put in execution his long-cherished design of
retiring to Naples, his native city, and bidding a final adieu
to the noisy but fickle plaudits of a niggardly and tasteless
crowd. He hoped at Naples to enjoy, in a poverty which
would be less galling when it ceased to be contrasted with
so much grandeur, that domestic life for which he was emi¬
nently adapted, and of which he was deeply fond. Statius
was a man of a quiet and amiable disposition ; and in his pri¬
vate capacity, apart from the degrading accidents of his time
and position, demands our honest admiration. While yet a
youth, he had married a freed-woman, Claudia, to whom he
was faithfully and tenderly attached. What became of
Statius is unknown ; he probably died in privacy at Naples,
and Dodwell conjecturally places his death in the year
a.d. 96. We have been unable to discover any authority
whatever for the absurd stories that he was a Christian,
or that he was stabbed by the emperor with an iron style.
We can only judge of the character of Statius from his
own works. One or two of them are very creditable to his
personal feelings ; and if there are many which show him
in the contemptible light of a parasite, a gossip, and a
flatterer, we must remember Bacon’s warning respecting
the difference between vitia temporis and vitia horminis.
But we must not. deny that Statius sinks deeper still.
We find him lending the ornaments of his ingenuity to
the grossest excesses, and the vilest passions of patrician
and imperial crime. What can we say of a poet who
throws all the force of his charming versification into the
Consolatio ad Flavium, and the apotheosis of a eunuch’s
hair? No purity or simplicity of private life can wholly
atone for baseness such as this. Yet the Coma Earini is
the theme of emulous raptures on the part of Martial and Sta¬
tius, the two recognized poets-laureate of Domitian’s court;
and it is far from improbable that the necessity of rivalry in
the celebration of such subjects led to that jealousy for his
brother poet which critics have traced in the writings1 of
the epigrammatist. Both by his envious silence and his ma¬
licious sneers, Martial shows his intolerance of “a brother
near the throne.”
Statius belongs to that period of declining literature in
which the poets sink into mere learned versifiers. In such
an age, art not only predominates over inspiration, but has
entirely superseded it, and for “ the sensibilities of the heart
are substituted the susceptibilities of the ear.” Statius and
his contemporaries (“ et tons ces gargon-la,” as Scaliger
somewhat contemptuously called them) “ have taste, learn¬
ing, and ingenuity, but not one spark of the true Prome¬
thean fire. They desired to be poets—they fancied them¬
selves poets; but they rarely rise above the level of
rhetoricians who wrote in rythm. Statius teaches us
nothing, is good for nothing, has no influence in the edu¬
cation of humanity; he sings of the tresses of a eunuch
and the dead lion of an emperor, and yet he was endowed,
and that in an eminent degree, with those qualities which,
at certain privileged epochs, reveal to the poet truths of
eternal interest, and suggest to him the utterance which
renders them immortal.”2
I he works of Statius are—
S T A
553
1. The Sylvce, five books of poems in various metres, and in com- Staunton
memoration, for the most part, of the trifling subjects of the day. |]
Statius seems to have thought very lightly of these in comparison Stavropol-
with his epics; and yet his claim to poetic laurels rests almost ^ - J
solely on these brochures, and not on his more ambitious works.
Niebuhr’s judgment of them was very favourable; and many of them
(particularly those in which he touches on his own private affairs)
are sufficiently sincere to be regarded as very interesting and agree¬
able compositions. They are well deserving of an attentive perusal.
2. The Thebais, in 12 books, each of which occupied a year in
elaborating, and which were frequently recited previous to their
publication. They were completed before A.D. 90, as we infer from
various allusions3 in the Nyfoce, and from the prose proems in which
Statius dedicated them to his various acquaintances. It was on this
work that Statius mainly founded his hope of poetic immortality.
3. The Achilleid, which is left in a fragmentary condition, and
the completion of which was perhaps abandoned when the poet re¬
tired to Naples. He twice alludes to it in his Sylvce.
The chief editions of Statius are—
The Editio Princeps of the Sylvce, about 1470, 4to. The Editio
Princeps of the Thebaid and Achilleid, folio, about the same date.
Markland, Lond., 1728; Sillig, Dresden, 1827; Lemaire, Paris,
1830. Parts of Statius have been turned into English verse by
Pope, Stephens, Lewis, and Howard. (f. w. f.)
STAUNTON, Sir George Leonard, was descended
from an old English family, and was born in Galway, Ire¬
land, on the 19th of April 1737. Having gone to Mont¬
pelier, in the south of France, for his health, he studied
medicine there, and on his return to London in 1760 com¬
menced writing for periodicals. On setting out for the
West Indies in 1762, Dr Johnson, whose acquaintance he
had formed during his short stay in London, wrote him a
kind letter, which may still be seen in Boswell’s Life. He
settled in the West Indies, where he practiced as a physi¬
cian, and amassed a considerable fortune from his profes¬
sion and from official situations. Investing this money in
estates in the island of Granada, he returned to England
in 1770. In 1772 he again went to Granada, where he
was chosen attorney-general, and made the acquaintance of
Lord Macartney, who became governor of that island in
1774. Staunton lost his property by the capture of Gran¬
ada by the French, and he returned to England with the
governor of the island in 1779. He accompanied Lord
Macartney to Madras in 1781, and for his distinguished
services while in India he received a pension of L.500 per
annum from the East India Company, was created a ba¬
ronet, and received the honorary degree of LL.D. from the
University of Oxford. Sir George again accompanied Lord
Macartney to China in 1792, as secretary and minister-
plenipotentiary, and wrote a very interesting account of
China and the Chinese on his return to London. He died
in London, January 14, 1801, and was buried in West¬
minster Abbey.
STAVANGER, a seaport of Norway, in the diocese of
Christiansand, in the Biileke Fiord, an inlet of the German
Ocean, 100 miles S. of Bergen. It is built on the N.E.
side of a promontory, in the fiord, and commands a fine
view towards the mountains in the E. and N.E. I he
principal building is the cathedral, which was built in 1013,
and is, with the exception of that of Drontheim, the most
perfect specimen of mediaeval architecture in Norway.
Stavanger has also several schools, an hospital, and a poor-
house. ~ There are here shipbuilding yards, distilleries, &c.,
but the inhabitants depend chiefly on the herring fishery.
The harbour is good, and sheltered by a small island. Timber
is exported to a considerable extent. Pop. (1855) 11,717.
STAVROPOL, a town of Russia, capital of a circle of
the same name, in the province of Caucasus, stands on a
hill near the Taschly, 59 miles W.N.W. of Alexandrov,
and about 260 S.W. of Astrachan. It is fortified, and has
several churches, a gymnasium, and manufactories of soap
and leather. Pop. 7()00.
1 Mart. ix. 20, 91.
VOL. XX.
2 Nisard, i. 202, 271 ; Charpentier Sar les Ecrivains Latins, 292.
3 Theb. xii. 811; Sylv. v. 36, &c.
. - 4 A
554
S T E
Considera- CHAP. I.—CONSIDERATIONS OF A GENERAL NATURE RK-
tions re- GARDING THE PROPERTIES, PHENOMENA, AND APPLICA-
garding TIONS OF STEAM.
Steam.
^ Steam is the name given in our language to the visible,
moist vapour which arises from all bodies which contain
juices easily expelled from them by heats not sufficient for
their combustion. Thus we say, the steam of boiling
water, of malt, of a tan-bed. It is distinguished from
smoke by its not having been produced by combustion, by
not containing any soot, and by its being condensible by
cold into water, oil, inflammable spirits, or liquids composed
of these. We see it rise in great abundance from bodies
when they are heated, forming a white cloud, which diffuses
itself and disappears at no very great distance from the
body from which it was produced. In this case the sur¬
rounding air is found loaded with the water or moisture
which seems to have produced it; and the steam seems to
be completely soluble in air, composing, while thus united,
a transparent elastic fluid. But in order to its appearance
in the form of an opaque white cloud, the mixture with or
dissemination in air seems necessary. If a tea-kettle boils
violently, so that the steam is formed at the spout in great
abundance, it may be observed that the visible cloud is not
formed at the very mouth of the spout, but at a small
distance before it, and that the vapour is perfectly invisible
at its first emission. This is rendered still more evident
by fitting to the spout of the tea-kettle a glass-pipe of any
length, and of as large a diameter as we please. The
steam is produced as copiously as without this pipe, but
the vapour is transparent and colourless throughout the
whole of the pipe ; nay, if this pipe communicate with a
glass vessel terminating in another pipe, and if the vessel
be kept sufficiently hot, the steam will be as abundantly
produced at the mouth of this second pipe as before, and
the vessel will remain quite transparent. Ihe visibility,
therefore, of the matter which constitutes the steam is an
accidental circumstance, and appears to require its dissemi¬
nation in the air ; and we know that one perfectly trans¬
parent body, when minutely divided and diffused among
the parts of another transparent body, but not dissolved in
it, makes a mass which is visible. Thus oil beaten up with
water makes a white opaque mass.
When steam is produced, the water gradually wastes in
the tea-kettle, and will soon be totally expended if we con¬
tinue it on the fire. It is reasonable, therefore, to suppose
that this steam is nothing but water, changed by heat into
an aerial or elastic form. If so, we should expect that the
privation of this heat would leave it in the form of water
again. Accordingly, this is fully verified by experiment;
for if the pipe fitted to the tea-kettle be surrounded with
ice, or any cold substance, no steam will issue, but water
will continually trickle from it in drops; and if the process
be conducted with the proper precautions, the water which
we thus obtain from the pipe will be found equal in quantity
to that which disappears from the tea-kettle. Steam is
therefore the matter of water converted by heat into an
elastic vapour.
We are most familiar with steam when in the act of
rising violently from heated water in the process of ebulli¬
tion. The history of steam at this crisis is highly in¬
structive, and its phenomena may be studied with advan¬
tage by examining it in a glass vessel placed over a strong
lamp. When heat is first applied, a rapid circulation of
the fluid ensues. The water on the bottom, being first
heated and expanded, becoming lighter than the rest, rises
A M.
to the top, and is replaced by the current of colder water Considera-
descending, to receive in its turn a further accession of tions re¬
heat. By and by small globules of steam, formed on the g^rdlnS
bottom and surrounded by a film of water, are observed eam'
adhering to the glass ; as the heat increases they enlarge ;
in a short time several of them unite, form a bubble larger
than the others, and, detaching themselves from the glass,
rise upwards in the fluid. But they never reach the sur¬
face ; they encounter currents of water still comparatively
cold, and descending to receive from the bottom their
supply of heat, and encountering them, the bubbles are
robbed of their heat, shrivel up into their original bulk,
and are lost among the other particles of water In a
short time the mass of the water becomes more uniformly
heated; the bubbles, becoming larger and more frequent,
are condensed with a loud crackling noise, and at last,
when the heat of the whole mass reaches 212°, the bubbles
from the bottom rise without condensation through the
water, swell and unite with others as they rise, and burst
out upon the air in a copious volume of steam, of the same
heat as the water from which they are formed, and pushing
aside the air, make room for themselves. In this process,
by continuing the application of heat, the whole of the
water may be “ boiled away” or converted into steam.
The singular sounds produced from a vessel of water
exposed to heat previously to boiling, have attracted atten¬
tion ; the water is then vulgarly said to be simmering or
singing, and, when this takes place, it is because the vessel
is boiling at one place and comparatively cold at another.
This noise is most distinctly heard when the fire or flame
applied is small and its heat intense, when the vessel is
large and the water deep ; for in that case the entrance of
the caloric will take place more rapidly than the circulation
can convey it to the remote particles of fluid, and so
bubbles of steam- will form rapidly at one place and be
rapidly condensed at another; the degree of velocity with
which such bubbles succeed will determine the pitch of the
singing tone. We have observed this phenomenon in
greatest perfection when we have attached a slender pipe
to a close boiler producing steam, and carried its open
mouth, of the diameter of £ or T\ths of an inch, down
below the surface of cold water in a glass jar. When the
mouth of the steam-pipe is held just below the surface of
the water, the steam issues with great rapidity in small
bubbles, producing an acute tone ; and, on the other hand,
when the pipe is held at a considerable depth, the concus¬
sions become more violent and louder, their intervals of
succession greater, the tone is lowered, and finally, the
shocks become detached, and so violent as to shake the
glass and surrounding objects with much force. On this
subject Professor Robison observes that a violent and
remarkable phenomenon appears if we suddenly plunge a
lump of red-hot iron into a vessel of cold water, taking
care that no red part be near the surface. If the hand be
now applied to the side of the vessel, a most violent tremor
is felt, and sometimes strong thumps ; these arise from the
collapsing of very large bubbles. If the upper part of the
iron be too hot, it wayms the surrounding water so much,
that the bubbles from below come up through it uncon¬
densed, and produce ebullition without concussion. The
great resemblance of this tremor to the sensation which we
experience during the shock of an earthquake has led
many to suppose that the latter is produced in the same
way ; and their hypothesis is by no means unfeasible. Any
obstruction on the bottom of a boiler on the inside, as a
piece of metal or stone introduced among the water, may
STEAM.
555
Considera- produce a succession of smart concussions by the sudden
tions re- condensation of gas collected under it.
garding permanence of the boiling point is one of the most
Steam, remarkable of the phenomena of ebullition. When water
has once been brought to boil in an open vessel, it is not
possible to make the water sensibly hotter, however strongly
the fire may be urged or its intensity increased. This cir¬
cumstance is very striking, because we know that heat
continues to be thrown in exactly as fast as before the
boiling point; and that, in that case, the heat rose rapidly,
whereas now it has altogether ceased to increase. If a
thermometer of mercury, air, oil, or metal be placed among
the water, the temperature will constantly increase, and ex¬
pand the matter of the thermometer until the water boils ;
and then, whether it boil slowly or rapidly, with a strong
fire or a gentle one, the thermometer will continue to stand
at the same point. This point is so well defined as to fur¬
nish our standard for the comparison of temperature, and is
the same on all thermometers, being called the boiling point,
although it is differently numbered on each, being called
212° on our common thermometer, or Fahrenheit’s, 80° on
Reaumur’s, and 100° on the centigrade thermometer.
It is also to be remarked that the temperature of the
steam issuing from boiling water is the same with the tem¬
perature of the water itself, and remains equally invariable ;
so that all the steam produced from water boiling at 212°
is itself at 212°. This remark will assist us in accounting
for the disposal of the heat which the fire gives out during
the time of ebullition ; for it is manifest that the heat is all
the while carried off by the large volumes of steam, at a
temperature of 212°, that are diffused through the air ; and
so it happens that an increase of heat in the fire, instead of
increasing the heat of the water, only increases the volumes
of the steam thrown off and the quantity of heat carried
away. This view of the subject is confirmed by a simple
experiment. Take a strong glass flask, place water in it,
and a thermometer among the water, and let it be held over
a lamp until the water boil, and the thermometer will be
observed rising till it reach 212°, when the steam will be¬
gin to escape rapidly from the neck of the flask. Let it
now be corked tightly, and the heat continually applied;
and it will be observed that the thermometer does not now
stand at 212°, but rises rapidly from that point up to 220°
and 230°, showing that the free escape of the steam into the
open air is necessary to the permanence of the boiling
point. If the heat be still applied, the experiment may be
rendered still more instructive by suddenly pulling out the
cork of the flask, when the vapour will instantly rush out in
a large volume, and the thermometer sink down to 212°,
showing that all the excess of heat has been carried off by
the steam into the air.
It has thus been seen that a large quantity of heat may
be given out in the particles of a certain quantity of water,
converting them into steam ; and yet that the thermometer
shall afford no indication of this quantity. As soon as water
boils the whole mass is heated up to 212°; and although
the same heat that produced the ebullition be still con¬
tinually applied, and although we know that this heat must
be continually entering into the water, still it is not de¬
tected, or in any way exhibited by the thermometer. On
this account the heat given to water during ebullition is
said to become latent, or lie hid from the thermometer;
and, indeed, the thermometer merely indicates the inten¬
sity of heat; the calorimeter alone can measure its quantity.
The quantity of heat given out to water after it has begun
to boil is more than fivefold that which is sufficient to
bring it from the freezing up to the boiling point; for, if
we continue the fire with the same intensity that was used
in bringing it to boil, it will require more than fivefold that
duration and quantity of fuel to boil all the water away, or
convert it all into steam of 212° of heat. Thus the sen¬
sible heat, added from 32°, will be 180°, and that latent in Considera-
the steam is more than fivefold ; or, in other words, the in- tions re-
sensible caloric in steam is fivefold its sensible heat; or the garding
same quantity of matter in the condition of steam at 212°, Steam.
and of water at 212°, will hold different quantities of caloric,
in the proportion of above 6 to 1. This is called the
greater capacity of steam for caloric than of water for that
substance; and it is in part accounted for by the greater
distances of the particles of the matter of steam and water
from each other in the former than the latter condition.
Dr Black was the discoverer of the admirable doctrine of
latent heat.
Dr Dalton has thus illustrated the doctrine of latent heat,
and of the increased capacity of a liquid for holding caloric
when it passes into the condition of vapour. The liquid
and its vapour may be considered as two reservoirs of
caloric, capable of holding different quantities of that fluid.
Let fig. 1 represent to us such an
arrangement: the internal cylin¬
der of smaller capacity ; the' ex¬
ternal one of enlarged capacity,
surrounding and extending far
above it; and a small open tube
of glass, communicating freely at
the bottom with the internal cy¬
linder. Let us now conceive
water to be poured into the in¬
ternal cylinder; the water will
manifestly flow into the slender
tube till it stand on the same
level in the tube as in the cylin¬
der. If any additional quantity
be now poured into the internal
cylinder, the rise of water in the
slender glass tube will serve as
an index of the quantity of added
fluid; and when it is filled to
the top, the fluid will stand at the height marked 212°,
and will still be a correct index of the addition of fluid.
But if more water be now added to it, it will not make its
appearance in the slender tube, but will simply overflow
from the internal cylinder over into that of enlarged capa¬
city, so that while a large quantity is passing into the vessel
and gradually filling it up to 212°, no additional rise takes
place until the whole of the outer cylinder become filled
to that point, after which any further addition will again
become sensible by a corresponding rise in the tube. This
process is in precise analogy to the succession of circum¬
stances in heating a liquid and converting it into a steam.
The internal cylinder represents the liquid; the external
one, the vapour of greater capacity ; and the slender glass
tube at the side, the thermometer placed in communication
with them. When heat flows into the liquid, it passes
equally into the thermometer; and each increment of the
one produces an equal increment in the other, until the liquid
reaches the limit of its capacity, when it suddenly begins
to enlarge its bulk and take the form of steam ; but the
quantity of heat required to fill up this enlarged capacity is
so great as to require about times as much to fill it as was
contained in the whole liquid before, so that all this time
the thermometer is standing still, and it is not until the
whole of the steam is thus supplied with 212° of caloric
that the thermometer will begin to show any further eleva¬
tion ; after which, any increment of heat thrown into the
steam will make its appearance on the thermometer, and
proceed, as formerly, by simultaneous increments.
It appears, therefore, that the cause why water boiling
under the open air does not reach a higher temperature
than 212° is, that the steam which is raised by any addi¬
tional heat carries that additional quantity of heat along
with it into the air. But here a question occurs at once
556
STEAM.
Considera- to the inquirer into these phenomena, viz., Why does
tions re- water require to be heated up to 212 before it will throw
garding 0fjp jjs increments of heat and vapour into the air ? Why
bteam. doeg n0(. gteam rige equaHy strongly from water at 200° or
180°? The categorical reply is, that the elastic force of
the heat is not sufficient to enable the steam to force its
way against the pressure of the air until it reaches this
point. In order to understand the means by which we
arrive at this conclusion, it is necessary to know that, when
the pressure of air on the surface of the water is artificially
diminished, the steam does actually rise, and the water
bubbles and boils with great violence, at temperatures far
below 212°. It is only when the surface of the water is
* exposed to the full pressure of the air in a common vessel
that it is prevented from rising in vapour, at temperatures
lower than the usual boiling point. If the surface of the
hot water be protected from the pressure of the air, by
being placed under a glass shade, and the air removed
from the inside of it by an air-pump, the water may be
made to boil at all temperatures below 212°.
Conceive a vessel of water first of all boiling at 212° in
the open air, as the vessel A in fig. 2, the thermometer i
A
being placed in it. After allowing the water to cool to
200°, let the vessel of water and the immerged thermome¬
ter be now placed on the plate-stand p of an air-pump,
and covered over with a strong glass receiver r ; and let
a portion of the enclosed air be now withdrawn by the
pump from the inside of the receiver by the pipe f ; and
suppose that there are in all 30 cubic inches, or other
volumes, of air in the receiver at first; then the water
being at 200°, when about 7 out of the 30 parts of the
air have been withdrawn, leaving only about 23 parts out
of 30 pressing on the water, it will be observed instantly to
commence giving off steam in rapid ebullition. If next, the
process be repeated, only allowing the water to cool to 190°,
the ebullition will not commence at this lower temperature
till about 12 out of the 30 volumes of air have been with¬
drawn ; and if, in a third experiment, the water be cooled
down to 180°, the elastic force communicated by this de¬
gree of heat will not be capable of overcoming the resist¬
ance arising from the pressure of the air until one-half of
the original pressure of 30 has been removed. To this
process there is no limit, for as we go on lowering the tem¬
perature, we can always find a point at which the water
will boil, provided the counteracting pressure be sufficiently
diminished.
Distillation is a method of separating a liquid from ex¬
traneous matter, by first of all converting it into steam, and
then condensing that steam so as to form the liquid. Dif-
garding
Steam.
ferent substances take the liquid form at various temper- Considera
atures; and, therefore, the heat may be so regulated that tio™ re-
only one substance of a mixture shall take the form of va¬
pour', and being conveyed by a pipe through a vessel of
cold water, or otherwise exposed to the cooling process,
the vapour being condensed will give the pure liquid. A
great improvement upon the process of separating liquids
has been successfully introduced by Mr Howard. It con¬
sists of distillation or evaporation in vacuo, and has been
most usefully employed in the refining process of sugar.
When sugar is dissolved in water, it requires a much higher
temperature than 212° to boil the mixture, or to convert
the water into steam and separate it from the solid; and as
the process goes on, and the solution comes to hold less
and less water, the requisite degree of heat is further
augmented, until the temperature becomes so high as to
injure the colour and otherwise deteriorate the article of
merchandise in its crystallized state. Instead of this in¬
creased temperature, Mr Howard places the syrup in vacuo,
and thus boils it at a low and innoxious heat.
The pulse-glass, an invention attributed to Dr Franklin,
is an apparatus illustrating beautifully the process of ebul¬
lition in vacuo at low temperatures. If two glass-balls, a
and b (fig. 3), be connected by a slender tube, and one of
them a be filled with water,
Fig. 3.
a small opening or pipe b
being left at the top of the
other, and this be made to boil,
the vapour produced by it will
drive all the air out of the
other, and will at last come out
itself, producing steam at the mouth of the pipe. When the
ball b is observed to be occupied by transparent vapour, we
may conclude that the air is completely expelled. Now, shut
the pipe by sticking into it a piece of tallow or wax, the vapour
in b will soon condense, and there will be a vacuum. The
flame of a lamp and blow-pipe being directed to the little
pipe b, will immediately cause it to close and seal herme¬
tically. We have now a pulse-glass. Grasp the ball A in
the hollow of the hand ; the heat of the hand will imme¬
diately expand the bubble of vapour which may be in it,
and this vapour will drive the water into b, and then will
blow up through it for a long while, keeping it in a state of
violent ebullition, as long as there remains a drop or film of
water in A. But care must be taken that B is all the while
kept cold, that it may condense the vapour as fast as it
rises through the water. Touching B with the hand, or
breathing warm on it, will immediately stop the ebullition.
When the water in A has thus been dissipated, grasp B in
the hand ; the water will be driven into A, and the ebulli¬
tion will take place there as it did in b. Putting one of
the balls into the mouth will make the ebullition more
violent in the other, and the one in the mouth will feel
very cold. This is a pretty illustration of the rapid absorp¬
tion of the heat by the particles of water, which are thus
converted into elastic vapour. We have seen this little
toy suspended by the middle of the tube like a balance,
and thus placed in the inside of a w'indow, having two
holes a, b cut in the pane, in such a situation, that, when
A is full of water and preponderates, B is opposite to the
hole b. Whenever the room became sufficiently warm, the
vapour was formed in a and immediately brought the water
into b, which was kept cool by the air coming into the room
through the hole b. By this means B was made to pre¬
ponderate in its turn, and A was then opposite to the hole
a, and the process was now repeated in the opposite direc¬
tion. This amusement continued as long as the room was
warm enough. Instead of water, alcohol or ether may be
substituted, and will act more readily.
The following experiment, where ebullition is produced
by the application of cold, is instructive. A Florence flask
Considera
tioits re¬
garding
Steam.
STEAM.
557
e (fig:. 4) is about one-third full of water, and is placed over
Pig. 4.
a lamp E until the water boils ; and wdien the steam has
been rising for a short time violently from the neck of the
vessel, the cork s is to be applied as a stopper, and must fit
with great accuracy. The flask thus closed is to be set
aside for a few minutes till it have cooled considerably, and
is then to be suddenly placed on a stand in the cold water
w, contained in the glass reservoir R. The ebullition in the
flask will recommence with a degree of violence propor¬
tioned to the coldness of the water w. The theory of this
action is simple. When the flask is plunged in the cold
water, two-fitths of its contents are steam : the chill water
condenses it into water, it shrinks up into j^V^d part of its
bulk, and would leave 1641 parts out of 1642 vacuous;
but the warm water being now in vacuo, throws up in
rapid ebullition copious volumes of vapour of its own tem¬
perature, which is, again, by coming into contact with the
sides of the vessel and by directly giving off its heat to
the water, chilled into water; and so in succession all the
vapour thus sent up is in turn reconverted into water and
the vacuum sustained, until at last, the equilibrium be¬
tween the temperature of the water, within and around the
flask, having been established, the interchange of caloric
ceases ; and even now, if the flask were plunged into freez¬
ing water, the ebullition would recommence as violently as
before.
We have already noticed the fact, that, when water is
confined in a close vessel, and heat is applied to it, the
water w ill not boil even at a temperature of 212°. If heat
be continually thrown into the water in this state, the par¬
ticles will acquire a very high temperature ; and, at the
same time, the tendency of the enclosed fluid to burst the
vessel will become very great. The following experiment
upon this subject is one of the most interesting and the
earliest of which we are in possession. It was published in
1663 by the Marquis of Worcester, and we give it in his
own words :—“ I have taken a piece of a whole cannon,
whereof the end w'as burst, and filled it [w ith water] three-
quarters full, stopping and screwing up the broken end as
also the touch-hole, and making a constant fire under it;
within twenty-four hours it burst, and made a great crack.”
It is in virtue of the great elastic force by which water,
when heated, tends to expand into many times its bulk, in
the form of steam, that this element has become a mecha¬
nical mover, subject to the control of man. There are
two great principles of classification upon which such
machines are constructed ; the one commonly called high-
pressure or non-condensing steam-engines, and the other
low-pressure or condensing steam-engines.
In order, however, to its successful application as a me¬
chanical power, and its profitable use in each of the various
functions which it is capable of performing, it is necessary
to study its various phenomena in greater detail; to obtain
Experi¬
ments on
Steam.
an intimate acquaintance with its properties; to deter- Historical
mine its laws in the various relations of space, time, and Notice of
quantity ; how much heat it requires; what fuel it con¬
sumes ; what force it exerts; how fast it will move; how it
will condense, expand, and contract; and what relation it
bears to the fluid from which it is derived. These in¬
quiries, and the manner in which these objects may be
most satisfactorily obtained, is the subject of this article,
and of the following articles on the steam-engine in its
various applications.
CHAP. II.—HISTORICAX NOTICE OF EXPERIMENTS ON THE
PROPERTIES OF STEAM.
The earliest researches into the phenomena of steam,
undertaken with the philosophical purpose of obtaining ex¬
perimental data for the scientific investigation of its pro¬
perties and relations, are to be met with in a scarce work,
printed at Basle in 1769, written by Jo. Henrico Ziegler.
Unhappily, he lived too remote from the scene of the phi¬
losophical discoveries of that period to adopt the precau¬
tions necessary to give value to his experiments. He
allowed atmospheric air to mingle with the steam to such
an extent as greatly to vitiate the results.
M. Betancourt, about the end of last century, undertook
a series of experiments on the force of the vapour of water,
alcohol, or other liquids, at various temperatures. His
apparatus was tolerably perfect; and the precautions which
he adopted for the removal of atmospheric air from inter¬
mixture with the vapour, gave his experiments consider¬
able value and precision. Some of his experiments were
made in vacuo ; and he seems to have been one of the first
philosophers who examined the production of steam at
temperatures below' the ordinary point of ebullition, under
the pressure of the atmosphere. His experiments extend
from 32° up to 279°, being 67° above the ordinary boiling
point.
Of British philosophers, Dr Robison was one of the first
to make accurate and systematic experiments on the phe¬
nomena of the temperature and elastic force of steam ; they
appear to have been made in 1778. Previously, however,
Mr Watt had been led, in the course of his invention of
the steam-engine, in 1764-65, to make experiments on the
elastic force of steam. From the data he then obtained,
he laid down a curve, in which he says, “ the abscissae
represented the temperatures, and the ordinates the pres¬
sures, and thereby found the law by which they were
governed, sufficiently near for my then purpose.” In 1773-
74, he resumed his experimental researches on the relative
temperatures and pressures of saturated steam up to about
40 lb. total pressure per square inch. Having been dissa¬
tisfied w ith the irregularities of the results he obtained, Mr
Southern and Mr Creighton, at his request, repeated his
experiments in 1803, with the view of ascertaining the
density of steam raised from w ater under different pressures
above, as well as below, that of the atmosphere ; they ex¬
tended from a pressure of ‘4 inch to 240 inches of mercury,
or 8 atmospheres.
Dr Dalton appears to have been the first to escape from
the natural enough error of assuming that the vapour of
water at 32° Fahr., the freezing point, would be repre¬
sented by 0. This apparatus was the most simple and
refined of any that had been employed for temperatures
below 212°, and his experiments continued for many years
to possess the greatest authority. His experiments were
first published in 1793 ; and afterwards, when more ex¬
tended, in 1802. Dr Ure, in 1817, and subsequently Mr
Philip Taylor, and Professor Arsberger, of Vienna, made
experiments on high pressure steam through an extensive
range of temperatures.
In 1823, the government of France having resolved to
558
STEAM.
Historical legislate on the means for obtaining security in the use of
Notice of steam-engines, consulted the Academy of Sciences upon
me^nt*1' the mot*e most effectually Promoting the public safety,
nSteam>n without placing useless restrictions on commercial enter-
v  \ prise and manufacturing industry. The examination into
the state of knowledge concerning the phenomena of
vapour at elevated temperatures, which resulted from this
application, having brought the imperfections of this part
of science prominently into notice, the Academy were in¬
duced to undertake a long and laborious inquiry, not en¬
tirely free from personal danger, into the law connecting
temperature with the pressure of steam. The commission
consisted of the illustrious members of the Academy, Ba¬
ron de Prony, Arago, Girard, and Dulong ; and the results
of their investigations, finished in 1829, were published in
the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences in 1831. The
experiments were conducted principally by MM. Arago
and Dulong, and on a scale of magnitude and expense
suited to the munificence of the French government and
the resources of the Academy ; they were carried as high
as to 24 atmospheres of pressure, or about 360 lb. per square
inch.
Towards the end of 1830, a committee of the Franklin
Institute, of the State of Pennsylvania, United States, was
appointed to examine into the causes of the explosion of
steam-boilers, and to devise the most effectual means of
preventing the accidents. The committee experimented
on the elastic force and temperature of steam, at pressures
varying from 1£ to 10 atmospheres.
In 1844, Professor Gustav Magnus published, in Pog-
gendorf’s Annalen, No. 2, a memoir on the expansive force
of steam, in which he notices the defects in former methods,
arising from the difficulty of determining with accuracy the
true temperature of the vapour, and also the correct pres¬
sure, owing to the unequal heating and consequent partial
expansion of the mercurial column ; and explains the me¬
thod he adopted to obviate these difficulties.
In July 1844, M. V. Regnault published his very valu¬
able memoir on the Elastic Force of Aqueous Vapour, in
the Annales de Chirnie et de Physique, and since, more
fully, in the Memoirs of the Institute, in 1847. “ To estab¬
lish a physical fact,” says this ingenious and accurate phy¬
sicist, “ we must not confine ourselves to a single method
of investigation. It is necessary to employ various methods,
and even to repeat those made use of by former experi¬
menters, unless they are absolutely faulty ; and we must
show that all, when used with proper precaution, conduct
to the same result; or, if this be not the case, we must
point out by direct experiment the cause of error in the
defective methods.” Acting on this principle, M. Regnault
repeated the methods of Dalton, Ure, Magnus, ^ulong,
and Arago, with such modifications as the improved state
of experimental science, and his own skill and experience
suggested; and he has pointed out the defects under which
they labour, and the limits within which their results may
be relied on.
Mr Dalton’s method may be described as consisting
essentially in determining the heights of the mercurial
column in two barometer tubes, the chamber of one being
occupied with vapour and the other being a vacuum. In
this method the temperature of the vapour is determined
by that of a water-bath surrounding the chamber, and
either the whole or a part of the mercurial column is main¬
tained by the same means at the same temperature. M.
Biot has remarked, that the chief defect in this method
arises from the fact, that it is impossible to maintain the
water surrounding the tubes at a constant temperature
through all its depth, if this depth is considerable, and its
temperature differs much from that of the surrounding
medium. Mr Ure attempted to remedy this defect by
limiting the space occupied by the vapour, and thus re¬
ducing the depth of the bath, and in this respect, certainly, Histoid
his modification of Mr Dalton’s method was a decided im- Notice r
provement. M. Regnault has shown that, if the whole of Kxpen
the tubes be surrounded by water, for the purpose of main- nients c
taining the columns at the same known temperature, Mr v Steam
Dalton’s method is capable of giving accurate results be- ‘v“,“
tween the limits + 10° C., and + 30° C., provided the water
be incessantly and rapidly agitated, the agitation being
merely interrupted for a moment to observe the heights of
the mercurial column. Above the higher limit, however
the separation of the liquid into strata of unequal tempera¬
ture commences the instant the agitation ceases, and the
observations are accordingly rendered uncertain. The fol¬
lowing account of the apparatus and method of experiment
adopted by Regnault, is derived from Dixon’s Treatise on
Heat.
Where it was intended only to raise the chambers and a
part of the mercurial column to the temperature of the
vapour, M. Regnault made use of the following form of
apparatus:—Two barometers B, B, as similar as possible,
of about 14 millimetres internal diameter, are arranged,
side by side, on a frame (fig. o). These barometers pass
through two tubular openings in the bottom of a vessel
y of galvanized sheet-iron, and are secured by means of
caoutchouc collars. The vessel v, shown in section and
plan in fig. 6, has, on one side, a rectangular aperture,
round which is fixed an iron frame. A plate of glass, with
perfectly parallel faces, is secured to this frame by means
of a similar frame attached to the former by screws. A
slip of caoutchouc, of the form of the contour of the aper¬
ture, is placed between the glass and the frame, and ren¬
ders the joint perfectly water-tight. The two barometers
are plunged in the same reservoir u. The capacity of the
vessel is about 45 litres. This vessel is filled with water,
which is continually agitated, and its temperature is given
by a very sensitive mercurial thermometer immersed in it,
which is observed by means of a small horizontal telescope
L. The height of the column in the barometer is read off
by means of a kathetometer, the agitation of the water beinn-
stopped for an instant at the time of the observation ol*
each column. Observations are made with great precision
at the temperature of the surrounding air ; to observe the
force at higher temperature, a small quantity of water is
removed from the vessel by means of a syphon, and re¬
placed with a corresponding quantity of hot-water. A spirit-
lamp is then placed under the vessel, and its distance from
S T E A M.
storical it, as well as the height of its wick, is so arranged that the
atice of temperature of the water, which is still kept in a state of
jxperi- brisk agitation, finally becomes constant. This condition
entson jg easjiy obtained after some trials, and if the temperature
3team- (joes not surpass qQ° it may be maintained stationary
and uniform for any length of time, provided only that the
agitation of the water is brisk and constant. Three or four
observations were made every time that the temperature
was rendered stationary, an interval of eight or ten minutes
being left between each. In this method of operating, the
portions of the columns outside the vessel are in circum¬
stances completely identical, and the difference of height of
the portions within, which are at the temperature of the
bath, being reduced to 0°, measures exactly the tension of
the vapour, allowance, of course, being made for the pres¬
sure of the film of water. It is unnecessary to point out
how much more accurate this method of ascertaining the
temperature corresponding to observed forces is, than
either M. Betancourt’s or Mr Dalton’s.
A second series of experiments M. Regnault made with
the following apparatus :—A balloon A (figs. 5 and 6), whose
capacity equals 500 cubic centimeters, contains a little glass
vessel full of water recently boiled. The balloon is soldered
to a curved tube, cemented into a tubular piece of copper,
with three branches, d, e,f. In the branch e is cemented
a tube soldered to the upper part of the barometer /t; and
in the branch f a tube, communicating with an air-pump,
by means of the desiccating apparatus mn, filled with
powdered pumice, steeped in sulphuric acid. The tube o
is a perfect barometer as before. The apparatus being
arranged, as in the figures, a vacuum was made forty or
fifty times successively; and each time the air slowly re¬
admitted ; by this means the interior of the balloon and
barometric chamber was completely dried. The vacuum
was then finally made as perfectly as possible, and the
tube / sealed by a blow-pipe. At first M. Regnault was
unable to reduce the vacuum below two millimetres, but
his air-pump having been cleaned, he subsequently suc¬
ceeded in bringing it below one millimetre. The balloon
was then surrounded with melting ice, and the difference
of the columns in the two tubes gave the elastic force at 0°
of the remaining air. The ice having been removed, the
vessel v was filled with water, and its temperature being
sufficiently raised, the little glass vessel was burst by the
expansion of the water it contained, and the balloon and
chamber filled with aqueous vapour, whose force at the
corresponding temperatures was observed as before.
This method answers very well for temperatures below
that of the surrounding medium, and for 10° or 15° C.
above it; it also answers for determining the force of
aqueous vapours in air of any density within those limits of
temperature.
Those two forms of apparatus do not answer for tensions
above 200 millimetres ; beyond this force M. Regnault em¬
ployed the following, which in principle is similar to Pro¬
fessor Magnus’s, and which he also employed in the case
of liquids more volatile than water.
A syphon-shaped tube a b e (fig. 5), of about 15 mil¬
limetres internal diameter, terminates in a fine curved
tube c e. The closed branch a b is filled with mercury,
which is carefully boiled to expel all air and moisture.
When the mercury is cool, a small quantity of volatile
liquid is introduced into the branch b e, and boiled for some
minutes; the tube is then inclined, and a little of the liquid,
yet hot, is passed up into the branch a b; the branch b e
is then completely dried. The tube is now fixed in a per¬
fectly vertical position in the vessel v, in front of the
glass-plate. The tube c e is cemented into one branch of
a piece of copper c df, whose other branches commu¬
nicate, one d, with a manometric apparatus with a stop¬
cock r, and the other f with an air-pump, if necessary.
The tubes h i, k l, are first completely filled with mercury,
the air being expelled through f g; the tube f g is then
closed with the blow-pipe and a portion of the mercury
being allowed to flow out through the stop-cock r, the
pressure of the air in the branch n e c is so far diminished
as ultimately to become nearly equal to the pressure of the
vapour in a m, when the mercury in the two branches of
the syphon-shaped tube falls nearly to the same level.
The force of the vapour is then measured by the atmo¬
spheric pressure, diminished by the column r s in the mano¬
meter, and the column mn \n the tube a b, both these
columns, whose temperatures are known, being reduced to
their heights at 0°. The temperature of the vapour is
ascertained as in the preceding experiment.
None of the foregoing methods answer for temperatures
above 60° or 70° C. At higher degrees the water in
the vessel v separates so promptly into strata of different
temperatures as to require constant agitation to prevent
this result from taking place. For temperatures above
100° C., moreover, those methods become impracticable
from other causes. For higher degrees, therefore, M.
Regnault had recourse to the well-known method employed
by Mr Dalton, and other physicists subsequently, of ascer¬
taining the temperature of the vapour of water boiling
under determined pressures.
In order to obtain results of the degree of accuracy
which this method is capable of giving, it is necessary to
boil the water in a vessel communicating freely with a
space of tolerable capacity, in which we can dilate or con¬
dense at will; and by this means form an artificial atmo¬
sphere, which exerts a determined pressure on the surface of
the heated liquid. We thus obtain a temperature of ebul¬
lition as perfectly stationary as that of water boiling in free
air, and we can maintain this temperature stationary as long
as we will. The apparatus employed for this purpose by
M. Regnault is represented in fig. 7. It consists of a
Fig. 7
retort of red copper A, closed with a cover. This cover
carries four iron tubes closed below ; of these, two descend
to the bottom of the retort, the others only reach half-way
down. These tubes, which are 7 millimetres in internal
diameter, and about 1 millimetre thick, are surrounded by a
case of very thin copper attached to the cover, and hav¬
ing apertures in its upper part. They are filled with
mercury to within a few centimetres of their upper edge,
and hold four mercurial thermometers, whose bulbs de¬
scend to the bottom of the tubes. From the arrangement
of the tubes, it appears that two of the thermometers are
plunged in vapour and two in water, as shown in section. The
neck of the retort is connected with a tube tt, about I metre
559
Historical
Notice of
Experi¬
ments on
Steam.
560
Historical
Notice of
Experi¬
ments on
Steam.
STEAM.
in length, surrounded by a copper cylinder, through which
flows a constant current of cold water, supplied by a reser¬
voir p. This tube communicates with a copper balloon B
of about 24 litres in capacity, contained in a vessel v full
of water at the temperature of the surrounding medium.
To the balloon is attached a pipe, with two branches, one
of which is cemented to the tube e g h of the apparatus
represented in fig. 6, when the experiments are made at
pressures inferior to that of the atmosphere, or with the
tube p q of the apparatus in fig. 7, for greater pressures.
The second branch is connected by means of a lead tube
11, with an exhausting or condensing air-pump.
For pressures inferior to the atmospheric, the air in the
balloon having been rarefied, the water in the retort is
heated until ebullition commences. The vapour, accord¬
ing as it forms, is condensed in the refrigerator tt, and
falls back into the retort. The pressure is measured by
the difference of heights of the mercury in the barometric
tubes. It may be remarked that the column in the baro¬
metric tube connected with the balloon, is never abso¬
lutely stationary ; the amplitude of its oscillations, however,
when the fire is properly regulated, is very small, not ex¬
ceeding one-tenth of a millimetre. The mercury in the
barometer o, on the other hand, remains perfectly station¬
ary. The difference of the heights of these columns is ob¬
served by means of a kathetometer ; and an assistant, at the
same instant, notes the height of the thermometers. Seve¬
ral observations were made, at intervals of eight or ten
minutes, under the same pressure; and it was thus easy to
perceive the perfect constancy of the temperatures indi¬
cated by the thermometer for the same pressure, and to
show that the least change in the latter was followed by a
corresponding change in the former.
The height of the kathetometers not exceeding one
metre, when greater differences of level in the apparatus
required to be measured, it was necessary to employ two
of them. In order to ascertain if the divisions of the scales
of the two instruments were identical, M. Regnault read
off the divisions of one, in lengths of centimetres, by means
of the other ; and such was the accuracy of their graduation,
that he, in no case, encountered a difference of more than
one-twentieth of a millimetre. To attain such a degree of
precision in the measures, it is evident that the instruments
must be constructed with the greatest accuracy; the tele¬
scopes must not have too great a focal length (0m. 30), and
the levels, in particular, must possess extreme sensibility.
Those in the kathetometers constructed by M. Gambey in¬
dicated inclinations of one second. The verniers gave di¬
rectly one-fiftieth of a millimetre, and easily admitted of
the estimation of one-hundredth.
The thermometers, says M. Regnault, employed in the
experiments, made at pressures inferior to the atmo¬
spheric, ranged from 0° to 100° C.; they had from six to
eight divisions in 1° C.; it was, consequently, easy to
read with certainty the one-sixtieth of a degree. Those
employed for higher pressures had a range from 0° to
240°, and 1° C. contained 2-5 or three divisions of their
scale. All these instruments were graduated and verified
with the greatest care. In estimating the temperature
from the indication of the thermometers, a correction re¬
quired to be made for the portion of mercury in the stem
unassimilated in the temperature. The temperature of
this portion was ascertained by means of a sensitive mercu¬
rial thermometer suspended between the four stems. It
may be remarked, that the temperature indicated by the
thermometer in the liquid was always higher, at low tem¬
peratures, than that indicated by those in the vapour; the
difference in some cases amounted to 0o,7. As the pres¬
sure approached the atmospheric, this difference became
less, and, at high temperatures, was quite insensible.
The method by which M. Regnault investigated the force
of vapours at high temperatures was similar to that last de- Mechanical
scribed ; and the apparatus which he employed for this pur- Theory of
pose differed from the preceding merely in the size and Heat,
strength of the parts. The boiler was made of copper,
about 5 millimetres thick, and had a total capacity of 70
litres. The reservoir B forming the artificial atmosphere
was also of copper, 13 millimetres thick, and contained about
280 litres. The manometer destined to measure the pres¬
sure of the artificial atmosphere, and thus of the vapour in
the boiler, consisted of a tube, or rather a series of tubes,
placed vertically over one another, and attached to the
walls of the building in the vicinity of which the experi¬
ments were performed, and continued along a strong pole
or mast firmly secured to the top of the wall. This system
of tubes was open above, and contained the column of mer¬
cury, which measured the tension in B. Its total height
was 24 metres, and it was accordingly able to measure a
pressure of 30 atmospheres.
The experiments were conducted as follows:—The water
in the boiler having been raised nearly to its boiling point,
the air in the reservoir b was compressed, until it had
reached the pressure under which it was desired to make
the experiment. A column of mercury of the correspond¬
ing height was next forced up the manometer from below
by means of a force-pump, and connection was then made
between the manometer and the reservoir. Meanwhile,
the temperature of the water in A was rising, and con¬
tinued to increase until it reached its boiling point under
the pressure to which it was exposed. It was then kept
in a state of ebullition for at least half an hour, and no
observation was made until it was ascertained that the mer¬
curial thermometers connected with the boiler were per¬
fectly stationary. The temperatures indicated by these
thermometers were then observed, and also the indications
of an air thermometer, which, to insure greater accuracy,
was employed in addition to the former. At the same
time, the difference of level of the mercury in the branches
of the manometer was noted. M. Regnault’s experiments
with this apparatus extended to a pressure of about 28
atmospheres,-corresponding to a temperature of230o,56 C.
measured on the air thermometer.
CHAP. III.—THE MECHANICAL THEORY OF HEAT.
An important and interesting inquiry relative to steam
and its operation in the steam-engine, is that which traces
the connection between the heat expended and the dyna¬
mical effect, or work, produced. The method of separate
condensation, and the application of the force of expanding
steam, changed to an important extent the accepted rela¬
tions of heat to power, and added remarkably to the dyna¬
mical effect of the fuel; and though the steam-engine has
been progressively improved by the continual elaboration of
small economies, there is yet good reason to believe that the
field of improvement is wide, and that the labourer in that
field has the prospect of a good return. The inquiries of
scientific men on the subject of the relation of heat to me¬
chanical effect, have resulted in the establishment of the
principle that heat and mechanical force are identical and
convertible, and that the action of a given quantity of heat
may be represented by a constant quantity of mechanical work
performed. “ Motion and force,” says Professor Rankine,
“ being the only phenomena of which we thoroughly and
exactly know the laws, and mechanics the only complete
physical science, it has been the constant endeavour of na¬
tural philosophers, by conceiving the other phenomena of
nature as modifications of motion and force, to reduce the
other physical sciences to branches of mechanics. Newton
expresses a wish for the extension of this kind of investi¬
gation. The theory of radiant heat and light having been
reduced to a branch of mechanics by means of the hypo-
STEAM.
Mechanical thesis of undulations, it is the object of the hypothesis of
Theory of molecular vortices”—oscillation or vibratory motion—“to
^eat^ reduce the theory of thermometric heat, and elasticity also,
J"~to a branch of mechanics, by so conceiving the molecular
structure of matter that the laws of these phenomena shall
be the consequences of those of motion and force. This
hypothesis, like all others, is neither demonstrably true nor
demonstrably false, but merely probable in proportion to
the extent of the class of facts with which its consequences
agree. It must, however, be remarked that, whether the
hypothesis, of molecular motion be probable or improbable,
the theoretical and practical results arrived at in regard to
the mechanical action of heat remain unaffected, being de¬
duced from principles which have been established by ex¬
periment and demonstration. From these principles, Pro¬
fessor Rankine announced the specific heat of air before
it was otherwise known,—the accuracy of his deductions
having since been verified to within less than 1 per cent,
by the experiments of Regnault. The best experiments,
previous to those made by Regnault, in regard to the spe¬
cific heat of air, were those of Delaroche and Berard, from
which they deduced a specific heat of *266; but, arguino-
from the mechanical theory of heat, Professor Rankine de¬
clared that this value must be erroneous, and that the spe¬
cific heat of air could not exceed '240. It has been found
accordingly, by Regnault, since the statement was made,
as the result of a hundred experiments, that the specific
heat of air was ‘238, and that it is constant for all pressures
from one to ten^ atmospheres, or at least differs almost
inappreciably. 1 his coincidence of theoretical prediction
with experimental evidence, it has been well observed,
should have something like the same tendency in strength¬
ening our belief of the theory upon which Professor Ran¬
kine s estimate was based, as the discovery of an unknown
planet, previously indicated by Le Verrier and Adams, had
in confirming our faith in the science of astronomy.
The principle of the dynamical or mechanical theory of
heat, as already stated, is that, independently of the medium
through which heat may be developed into mechanical
action, the same quantity of heat converted is invariably
resolved into the same total quantity of mechanical action.
Foi the exact expression of this relation, of course, units of
measure are established:—in terms of the English foot, as
the measure of space; the pound avoirdupois, as the mea¬
sure of weight, pressure, elasticity; and the degree of
Fahrenheit’s scale, as the measure of temperature and heat.
Work done consists of the exertion of pressure through
space, and the English unit of work is the exertion of
1 lb. of pressure through 1 foot, or the raising of 1 lb.
weight through a vertical height of I foot: briefly, a
foot-pound. The unit of heat is that which raises the
temperature of ] lb. of ordinary cold water by 1 degree
Tahr. If 2 lb. of water be raised 1 degree, or 1 lb. be
raised 2 degrees in temperature, the expenditure of heat
is, equally in both cases, two units of heat. Similarly, if
1 lb. weight be raised through 1 foot, or 2 lb. weight be
laised through 2 feet, the power expended, or work done,
is equally in both cases two units of work, or two foot-
pounds. From these definitions, then, the comparison lies
between the unit of heat, on the one part, and the unit of
work, or the foot-pound, on the other.
M. Clapeyron, in his treatise on the moving power of
heat, and M. Noltzman, of Manheim, in 1845, who availed
himself of the labours of M. Clapeyron and M. Carnot in
the same field, grounding their investigations on the re¬
ceive aws of Boyle, or Marriotte, and Gay Lussac, which
express t le observed relations of heat, elasticity, and volume,
in steam and other gaseous matter, concluded that the unit
c^Pahle of raising a weight, between tbe limits
of 626 b. and 782 lb, 1 foot high; that is to sav, that one
unit of heat was equivalent to from 626 to 782 foot-pounds,
VOL. XX. r
561
By this mode of investigation, they suppose a given weight Mechanical
°t steam, or gaseous matter, to be contained in a vertical Theory of
cylinder formed of non-conducting material, in which is fitted Heat,
an air-tight but freely-moving piston, which is pressed down-
wards by a weight equal to the elasticity of the gas. Now,
the weight, initial temperature, pressure, and volume being
known, a definite quantity of heat from without is supposed
to be imparted to the vapour; and the result is partly an
elevation of the temperature of the vapour, and partly a
dilation or increase of volume, or, in other words, an exer¬
tion of pressure through space—the elasticity remaining
t )e same. But the result may be represented entirely by
nation, so that there shall not be any final alteration of
temperature; and for this purpose, it is only necessary to
a low the vapour to dilate without any loss of its original or
imparted heat until it re-acquires its initial temperature.
In this case, the ultimate effect is purely dilatation, or mo¬
tion against piessure ; and the work done is represented by
the product of that pressure into the space moved through.
Mr Joule, of Manchester, in 1843-47, proceeded, by
entire y different, independent, and, in fact, purely experi¬
mental methods, to investigate the relation of heat and
work By observing the calorific effects of magneto¬
electricity. He caused to revolve a small compound electro¬
magnet, immersed in a glass vessel containing water, be¬
tween the poles of a powerful magnet: heat was proved
to be excited by the machine, by the change of tempera¬
ture in the water surrounding it, and its mechanical effect
was measured by the motion of such weights as by their
descent were sufficient to keep the machine in motion at
any assigned velocity. 2d, By observing the changes of
temperature produced by the rarefaction and condensation
of air. In this case, the mechanical force producing com¬
pression being known, the heat excited was measured by
observing the changes of temperature of the water in which
the condensing apparatus was immersed. 3d, By observing
the heat evolved by the friction of fluids a brass paddle-
wheel, in a copper can containing the fluid, was made to
revolve by descending weights. Sperm oil and water
yielded the same results. Mr Joule considered the third
method the most likely to afford accurate results ; and he
ailived at the conclusion that one unit of heat was capable
of raising 772 lb. 1 foot in height; or, that the mecha¬
nical equivalent of heat was expressible by 772 foot-pounds
for 1 unit of heat,— known as “Joule’s equivalent.”
The following are the values of Joule’s equivalent for
different thermometric scales,, and in English and French
units:—
1 English thermal unit, or 1 degree of Fahrenheit I .
in 1 pound of water    j 'foot-pounds.
1 centigrade degree in 1 pound of water  1389*6
(or nearly 1390).
1 French thermal unit, or 1 centigrade degree 1 423*55 kilogram-
in a kilogramme of water J metres.
The mechanical theory of heat rests upon a wide basis,
and proofs in verification of the theory are constantly accu¬
mulating. When the weight of any liquid whatever is
known, with the comparative weight of its vapour at differ¬
ent pressures, the latent heat at the different pressures is
readily estimated from the theory; and this method of esti¬
mation agrees with the best experimental results, as may
afterwards be shown; and when the latent heat is also
known, the specific heat of the liquid can be determined by
means of the same theory: in other words, the quantity of
work, in foot-pounds, may be determined, which would, by
agitating the liquid or by friction, be required to raise the
temperature of any given quantity of the liquid by, say, one
degree, altogether independently of Joule’s experiments.
The theory enables us to discover the utmost power it is
possible to realize from the combination of any given weight
of carbon and oxygen, or other elementary substances, with
4 ii
562
STEAM.
Mechanical nearly as much precision as we can estimate the utmost
Theory of quantity of work it is possible to obtain from a known
Heat, vveight of water falling through a given height. It is
not difficult to comprehend, then, that the theory of the
mechanical equivalent of heat proves of great practical
utility.
According to the mechanical theory of heat, in its ge¬
neral form, heat, mechanical force, electricity, chemical
affinity, light, sound, are but different manifestations of
motion. Dulong and Gay Lussac proved, by their experi¬
ments on sound, that the greater the specific heat of a gas,
the more rapid are its atomic vibrations. Elevation of
temperature does not alter the rapidity, but increases the
length of their vibrations, and in consequence produces
“ expansion” of the body. All gases and vapours are as¬
sumed to consist of numerous small atoms, moving or vi¬
brating In all directions with great rapidity; but the average
velocity of these vibrations can be estimated when the pres¬
sure and weight of any given volume of the gas is known,
pressure being, as explained by Joule, the impact of those
numerous small atoms striking in all directions, and against
the sides of the vessel containing the gas. The greater
the number of these atoms, or the greater their aggregate
weight, in a given space, and the higher the velocity, the
greater is the pressure. A double weight of a perfect gas,
when confined in the same space, and vibrating with the
same velocity—that is, having the same temperature—gives
a double pressure; but the same weight of gas, confined
in the same space, will, when the atoms vibrate with a
double velocity, give a quadruple pressure. An increase
or decrease of temperature is simply an increase or decrease
of molecular motion. The truth of this hypothesis is very
well established, as already intimated, by the numerous
experimental facts with which it is in harmony.
When a gas is confined in a cylinder under a piston, so
long as no motion is given to the piston, the atoms, in
striking, will rebound from the piston after impact with the
same velocity with which they approached it, and no mo¬
tion will be lost by the atoms. But when the piston yields
to the pressure, the atoms will not rebound from it with
the same velocity with which they strike, but will return
after each succeeding blow, with a velocity continually
decreasing as the piston continues to recede, and the length
of the vibrations will be diminished. The motion gained
by the piston will, it is obvious, be precisely equivalent to
the energy, heat, or molecular motion lost by the atoms of
the gas. Vibratory motion, or heat, being converted into
its equivalent of onward motion, or dynamical effect, the
conversion of heat into power, or of power into heat, is
thus simply a transference of motion; and it Yvould be as
reasonable to expect one billiard-ball to strike and gb e
motion to another without losing any of its own motion, as
to suppose that the piston of a steam-engine can be set in
motion without a corresponding quantity of energy being
lost by some other body.
In expanding air spontaneously to a double volume,
delivering it, say into a vacuous space, it has been proved
repeatedly that the air does not fall appreciably in tem¬
perature, no external work being performed ; but, on the
contrary, if the air, at a temperature, say of 230° Fahr., be
expanded under pressure or resistance, as against the piston
of a cylinder, giving motion to it, raising a weight, or other¬
wise doing work, by giving motion to some other body, the
temperature will fall nearly 170° when the volume is
doubled, that is, from 230° to about 60° ; and, taking the
initial pressure at 40 lb., the final pressure would be 15 lb.
per square inch.
When a pound weight of air, in expanding, at any tem¬
perature or pressure, raises 130 lb. 1 foot high, it loses
1° in temperature ; in other words, this pound of air would
lose as much molecular energy as would equal the energy
acquired by a weight of 1 lb. falling through a height of Mechanical
130 feet. It must, hoYvever, be remarked, that but a small Theory of
portion of this work, 130 foot-pounds, can be had as avail- Heat-
able work, as the heat which disappears does not depend
on the amount of work or duty realised, but upon the total
of the opposing forces, including all resistance from any
external source whatever. When air is compressed, the
atmosphere descends and follows the piston, assisting in
the operation with its whole weight; and when air is ex¬
panded, the motion of the piston is, on the contrary, op¬
posed by the whole weight of the atmosphere, which is
again elevated. Although, therefore, in expanding air,
the heat which disappears is in proportion to the total op¬
posing force, it is much in excess of what can be rendered
available ; and, commonly, where air is compressed, the
heat generated is much greater than that which is due to
the work which is required to be expended, the weight of
the atmosphere assisting in the operation.
Let a pound of water, at a temperature of 212° Fahr., be
injected into a vacuous space or vessel, having 26,36 cubic
feet of capacity—the volume of 1 pound of saturated
steam at that temperature—and let it be evaporated into
such steam, then 893‘8 units of heat would be expended in
the process. But, if a second pound of water, at 212°,
be injected and evaporated at the same temperature, under
a uniform pressure of 14’7 lb. per square inch due, to the
temperature, the second pound must dislodge the first, by
repelling that pressure, involving an amount of labour equal
to 55,800 foot-pounds (that is, i4’7 lb. x 144 square inches
x 26*36 cubic feet), and an additional expenditure of 72*3
units of heat (that is, 55,800-f-772), making a total for the
second pound of 965*1 units.
Similarly, when 1408 units of heat are expended in raising
the temperature of air at constant pressure, 1000 of these
units increase the velocity of the molecules, or produce a
sensible increment of temperature ; while the remaining
408 parts which disappear as the air expands, are directly
expended in repelling the external pressure.
Again, if steam be permitted to flow from a boiler into
a comparatively vacuous space, without giving motion to
another body, the temperature of the steam entering this
space would rise much higher than that of the steam in the
boiler. Or, suppose two vessels, side by side, one of them
vacuous, and the other filled with air at, say two atmo¬
spheres, a communication being opened between the vessels,
the pressure v\rould become equal in the two vessels; but
the temperature would fall in one vessel and rise in the
other; and although the air is expanded in this manner to
a double volume, there would not on the whole be any
appreciable loss of heat, for if the separate portions of air
be mixed together, the resulting average temperature of
the whole would be very nearly the same as at first. It
has been proved experimentally, corroborative of this argu¬
ment, that the quantity of heat required to raise the tem¬
perature of a given weight of air, to a given extent, was the
same, irrespective of the density or volume of the air.
Regnault and Joule found that, to raise the temperature
of a pound weight of air, 1 cubic foot in volume, or 10
cubic feet, the same quantity of heat Yvas expended.
In rising against the force of gravity, steam becomes
colder, and partially condenses while ascending, in the
effort of overcoming the resistance of gravity, by the con¬
version of heat into water. For instance, a column of
steam weighing, on a square inch of base, 250*3 lb., that
is, a pressure of 250*3 lb. per square inch, would, at a
height of 275,000 feet, be reduced to a pressure of 1 lb.
per square inch, and, in ascending to this height, the tem¬
perature would fall from 401° to 102° Fahr., while, at the
same time, nearly 25 per cent, of the whole vapour would
be precipitated in the form of water, if not supplied with
heat while ascending.
STEAM.
563
General If a body of compressed air be allowed to rush freely
Relations jnt0 the atmosphere, the temperature falls in the rapid
°fif A60*13 Part t^ie current> by the conversion of heat into motion,
° ie3' / but the heat is almost all reproduced when the motion is
quite subsided; and from recent experiments, it appears
that nearly similar results are obtained from the emission
of steam under pressure.
When water falls through a gaseous atmosphere, its mo¬
tion is constantly retarded as it is brought into collision
with the particles of that atmosphere; and by this collision
it is partly heated and partly converted into vapour.
If a body of water descends freely through a height of
772 feet, it acquires from gravity a velocity of 223 feet per
second ; and if suddenly brought to rest when moving with
this velocity, it would be violently agitated, and raised one
degree in temperature. But suppose a water-wheel, 772
feet in diameter, into the buckets of which the water is
quietly dropped, when the water descends to the foot of the
fall, and is delivered gently into the tail-race, it is not sen¬
sibly heated. The greatest amount of work it is possible
to obtain from water falling from one level to another lower
level, is expressible by the weight of water multiplied by
the height of the fall.
The objects of these illustrative exhibitions of the nature
and reciprocal action of heat and motive power, with their
relations, are,'—first, to familiarise the reader with the doc¬
trine of the mechanical equivalence of heat; second, to
show that the nature and extent of the change of tempera¬
ture of a gas while expanding, depends nearly altogether
upon the circumstances under which the change of volume
takes place.
CHAP. IV.—GENERAL RELATIONS OE GASEOUS BODIES.
Gases are divided into the two classes,—permanent gases,
and vapours. The former were originally so called, under
the impression that they existed permanently in the gaseous
state, and could not possibly be reduced to the liquid form ;
while those which could be so reduced, and could be re¬
converted to the state of gas, were called vapours. It has,
however, been shown by Sir Humphrey Davy and Mr
Faraday, that by the conjoined effects of great pressure,
and of a high degree of cold, most of the permanent gases
may be liquefied. The under-mentioned still retained the
gaseous state at the annexed temperatures and pressures:—
Hydrogen  at
Oxygen  
»o  „
Nitrogen  ,,
Nitric Oxide  „
Carbonic Oxide .... ,,
Coal-gas  „
— 166° Fahr. and 27 atmospheres.
-166
-140
-166
-166
-166
-166
27
58-5
50
50
40
32
Several of the liquefied gases are further capable of being
reduced to the solid state. Thus, sulphurous acid becomes
solidified at — 105° ; sulphuretted hydrogen at — 122° ; car¬
bonic acid at —72°; ammonia at —103°. The difference,
then, between the permanent gases and vapours, is merely one
of degree, and depends upon the temperature at which the
change from the fluid to the gaseous state occurs. Those
which exist in the fluid state under ordinary temperatures
and pressures are called vapours; those which require
strong pressure and extremely low temperatures to reduce
them to the liquid form, are called permanent gases.
Steam, as the elastic vapour of water, is amenable to the
laws of gaseous fluids; and, according to these laws, the
pressure, the density or the volume, and the temperature,
bear fixed relations to each other. The influence of tem¬
perature on the expansion of permanent gases under con¬
stant pressures is such, that, for equal increments of temper¬
ature, the increments of volume by expansion are also
equal, and they are nearly the same for different gases.
The expansion of air by increase of temperature may be General
assumed to represent that of other gases ; and, it may be Relations
added, the most exact measure of real temperature is to be Gaseous
found in the expansion of air, or any other perfect gas. v -*!(K'ies- ^
By real or absolute temperature is signified the measure of
the whole of the heat of a body ; and at the absolute zero
point of the scale, all gases would cease to have elasticity
or molecular motion. As the expansion of air under con¬
stant pressure is found experimentally to be uniform for
uniform increments of temperature, it is inferred, conversely,
that it would contract uniformly, under uniform reduction
of temperature, until, on arriving at a temperature 461°
below zero of Fahrenheit’s scale, or, exactly — 46T2°, the
air would be in a state of collapse, without appreciable
elasticity. This point has, therefore, been adopted as that
of absolute zero, standing at the foot of the natural scale of
temperature. For example, let a volume of air, 673 cubic
inches in bulk, at a temperature of 212° Fahr., be confined
at a constant pressure in a cylinder, under a piston movable
without friction. If the gas be cooled 10°, the piston will de¬
scend through 10 cubic inches; if cooled 100°, the piston
will descend, and the air will contract, through 100 cubic
inches; and so on, in the same ratio ; so that, by lowering
the temperature 673°, the air would not possess appreciable
volume; and 673-212 = 461° below the artificial zero of
Fahr., wmuld, therefore, be arrived at as the point of abso¬
lute zero.
Again, if a given weight of air at 0° Fahr. be raised in
temperature to 461° under a constant pressure, its volume
will be doubled by expansion ; and, if heated to 461 x 2 =
922°, its volume will be trebled ; in short, for every incre¬
ment of one degree of temperature, its volume will be
enlarged by equal increments uniformly part of the
volume at 0®.
The following, then, are the established relations of the
properties of permanent gases :—
With a constant temperature, the pressure varies simply
as the density, or inversely as the volume. This is known
as Boyle’s or Marriotte’s law.
With a constant pressure, expansion is uniform under a
uniform accession of heat or rise of temperature, at the
rate of part of the volume at 0° Fahr. for each degree
of heat. If, then, 461° be added to the indicated tempe¬
rature by Fahrenheit’s scale, the sum, or absolute tempe¬
rature, varies directly as the total volume, expanding or
contracting, and inversely as the density. This is known
as the law of Gay Lussac.
With a constant volume, or density, the increase of
pressure is uniformly at the rate of part of the pres¬
sure at 0° Fahr. for each degree of temperature acquired.
Adding 461° to the indicated temperature, the sum, or ab¬
solute temperature, varies directly as the total pressure.
In brief, 1 st, the pressure varies inversely as the volume
when the temperature is constant; 2c?, the volume varies
as the absolute temperature when the pressure is constant;
3c?, the pressure varies as the absolute temperature when
the volume is constant.
The foregoing enunciation of the relations of tempera¬
ture, pressure, and density, should be qualified by the re¬
mark, that the more easily condensible gases, as they ap¬
proach the liquefying point, become sensibly more com¬
pressible than air; and that they do not strictly conform to
the relations of pressure and volume belonging to the per¬
manent gases. It has been found that, as far as 100
atmospheres, oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, nitric oxide, and
carbonic oxide, follow the same law of compression as at¬
mospheric air, these being amongst the incondensible gases;
and that sulphurous acid, ammoniac gas, carbonic acid,
and protoxide of nitrogen—proved to be condensible—com¬
mence to be sensibly more compressible than air when
they have been reduced to one-third or one-fourth of their
564
S T E A M.
General original volume. Carbonic acid, for examide, in place of
Relations of following the simple ratio of the pressure and density for a
tsaturated constant temperature, increased in density in a greatei
steam. ratio than the pressure, as indicated in the following table,
^ v imL showing, in tho third column, the volume of cm borne cicid
and increasing pressures relative to that of air, which is
expressed by unity : —
Table of the Compressibility of Carbonic Acid, as referred
to Air. Temperature, 10° Centig., or 50° Fahr.
Pressures.
Theoretic
Volumes.
Compressibility of
Carbonic Acid.
Atmospheres.
1
2
4
5
6-67
10
15-38
20
25
33-3
40
45
1000
500
250
200
150
100
65
50
40
30
25
Air=l-000
1-000
1-000
1-000
•989
•980
•965
•934
•919
•880
•808
•739
liquefied.
The deviations from unity in the last column express
the deviations from the law of Boyle, as applicable to dry
air at a constant temperature ; and they show that, under
a pressure of 40 atmospheres, carbonic acid, near the con¬
densing point, occupied rather less than three-fourths of
the volume which would have been occupied by air under
the same circumstances. This accelerated density, or in¬
cipient condensation, characteristic of carbonic acid and
other condensible gases, in approaching the point of lique¬
faction, foretells the approaching change. It is, neverthe¬
less, established that all gases, at some distance from the
point of maximum density for the pressure, do virtually fol¬
low the law of Boyle, according to which the pressure and
the density vary directly as each other when the tempera¬
ture is constant; and, on such conditions, they rank as per¬
fect gases.
CHAP. V.—GENERAL RELATIONS OF ORDINARY OR SATURATED
STEAM.
The accelerated reduction of volume and increase of
density, observable in the condensible gases, as they ap¬
proach their condensing points, hold likewise with steam.
Steam produced in an ordinary boiler, over water, is gene¬
rated at its maximum density and pressure for the tem¬
perature, whatever this may be. In this condition of maxi¬
mum density, steam is said to be saturated, being incapable
of vaporizing or absorbing more water into its substance,
or increasing its pressure, so long as the temperature re¬
mains the same. Nor, on the contrary, will steam be
generated with less than the maximum constituent quantity
of water which it is capable of appropriating from the liquid
out of which it ascends. It stands both at the condensing
point and at the generating point; so that a change in any
one of the three elements oi pressure, density, or tempera¬
ture, is necessarily accompanied by a change of the two
others. One density, one pressure, and one temperature,
unalterably occur in conjunction: the same density is in¬
variably accompanied by the same pressure and temperature.
If a part of the heat of saturated steam be withdrawn, the
pressure will fall, and also the density, by the precipitation
of a part of the steam in the liquid form.
If, while the temperature remains constant, the volume
of steam over water be increased, then, as long as there is
liquid in excess to supply fresh vapour to occupy the in¬
creased space opened for its reception, the density will not
be diminished, but will, with the pressure, remain constant,
—the maximum density and pressure due to the tempera- Relation
tore being maintained. of the Pres-
If, when all the liquid is evaporated, the fire or source of sure and
heat be removed, the pressure and density diminish when Tteu™g q™'
the volume is increased, as in permanent gases ; and, if the Saturated
volume be again reduced, the pressure and density increase Steam,
until the latter returns to the maximum due to the tem-
perature—that is to say, reaches the condensing point; and
the effect of any further diminution of volume, or attempt
to further increase the density at the same temperature, is
simply attended by the precipitation of a portion of the
vapour to the liquid state,—the density remaining the same.
On the contrary, if when all the liquid is evaporated, the
application of heat be continued, the state of saturation
ceases, the temperature and pressure are increased, whilst
the density remains the same: the steam is said to be
superheated, or surcharged with heat, and it becomes more
perfectly gaseous. And were it, whilst in this condition,
to be replaced in contact with water of the original tem¬
perature, it would evaporate a part of the water, transferring
to it the surcharge of heat, and would resume its normal
state of saturation.
Further, let the space for steam over the water remain
unaltered, then, if the temperature is raised by addition of
heat, the density of the vapour is increased by fresh vaporiz¬
ation, and the elastic force is consequently increased in a
much more rapid ratio than it would be in a permanent gas
by the same change of temperature. Conversely, if the
temperature be lowered, a part of the vapour is condensed,
the density is diminished, and the elastic force reduced more
rapidly than in a permanent gas.
An account of the special results of M. Regnault’s experi¬
ments, and of the investigations and deductions of himself
and others based upon them, is given in detail in the follow¬
ing sections.
CHAP. VI. RELATION OF THE PRESSURE AND TEMPERATURE
OF SATURATED STEAM.
The admirable investigations of the constants relating to
the economical employment of steam as a motive agency,
conducted by M. Regnault, may be fairly considered as
affording conclusive data of all the phenomena included
within the range examined, until some new discovery in
science, of a fundamental character, shall offer additional
facilities of research. The direct methods of trial and ob¬
servation may, in the meantime, be regarded as exhausted,
and to have yielded the full measure of accuracy of which
they are susceptible. It, therefore, only remained to give
effect to the results obtained by reducing them to rules of
calculation, of ready application, and the most simple of
which the relations admit.
One of the most important of those relations is that sub¬
sisting between the temperature and the pressure, or elas¬
ticity of the steam in contact with the fluid from which it
is generated. As yet this relation has only been expressed
approximately, and by empirical formulas. The true law of
connection has hitherto eluded analysis ; and one is com¬
pelled to rely in most important calculations on rules which
represent the law more or less distinctly, and usually over
a very small portion of the curve graphically representing
the pressures. There are many such rules, and some of
them represent very exactly the data on which they are
founded; but as these data are much less complete than
those obtained from the elegant and extended researches of
Regnault, it becomes necessary, even supposing the forms
the most convenient, to lay aside the constants they con¬
tain, and to derive them anew from the more recent data.
There are two qualities required in a formula of this
kind,—accuracy and simplicity. The first is obtainable by
such a form of equation as that suggested by Laplace, which
STEAM.
565
Steam.
Kelation expresses the expansive force by a series arranged accord-
of the Pres- ing to the ascending powers of the temperature. This sug'
fureand gestion was afterwards modified by Biot, whose form has
Tempera- keen adopted, in the main, by Regnault, as the basis of his
tureof principal and most approved and exact formulas. The
datura genera| form given by Regnault is the following:—
Log F = aA +6B +cC +
in which 6 is a function of the thermometrical temperature ;
the other literal quantities are constants, to be determined
from the series of experiments which the formula is in¬
tended to represent.
Egen’s formula is also susceptible of accuracy. It is, in
some measure, the inverse of that of Biot, and expresses
the temperature by a series arranged according to the as¬
cending powers of the logarithms of the elasticity.
Formulas, according to these models, may include any
number of points of the curve of pressures, and may there¬
fore be made to express any required degree of exactness.
But such formulas become exceedingly unwieldy and in¬
convenient for the ordinary purposes of calculation; and
they, moreover, do not admit of direct inversion. The
formula of Dr Thomas Young, on which those of Creighton,
Southern, Tredgold, Mellet, Coriolis, the Commission of the
French Academy, the Committee of the Franklin Institute,
and others, are founded, is comparatively simple in form ;
but it does not admit of very great exactness over any con¬
siderable extent of the curve. The expression in its most
general form is
F = (a + bt)m
This equation passes the curve through three given points,
and when these are taken at no great distance apart, it may
be employed to interpolate; but it cannot with safety be
extended to any considerable distance beyond the assumed
limits.
Another class of formulas is founded on that proposed
by Professor Roche in 1828, from theoretical considera¬
tions. It expresses the elasticity by a constant number
multiplied by a second constant raised to a power of which
the exponent is a fraction, having the temperature in the
nominator, and some function of the temperature in the
denominator, thus —
t
F = a A7 + *’
This form has been virtually adopted by August and
Strehlke, Von Wrede, Magnus, Holtzmann, and Shortrede.
It is greatly superior, as a formula of interpolation, to that
of Dr Young in extent and accuracy, and to that of Biot in
point of simplicity. It approaches more nearly to the double
condition of accuracy and simplicity than any other expres¬
sion which has yet been proposed ; and, in fact, as a prac¬
tical formula applicable to calculations relative to the steam-
engine, leaves little to be regretted that it is not absolute.
The most simple and convenient form to which this expres¬
sion is reducible is, for the elastic force.
Log F=A-^r(jS
and the inverse formula for finding the temperature, when
the pressure is given, is, accordingly,
B
t=-
-C.
A — log F
The late Mr W. M. Buchanan, of Glasgow, adopted this
general equation as the basis of his formula, of which he
published an account, in 1850, in the Practical Mechanic's
Journal, and he tested it by a number of very careful de¬
terminations of the constants, from the graphic curve of
pressures constructed by Regnault to represent the mean
results of his experiments. He was led to conclude that
no three points of that curve, which can be taken as data Relation
for the values of the constants, render the expression of the Pres-
satisfactory throughout the entire range, experimentally ®ure
represented. That range, however, extends over a space tarlTof'
of 262° of the centigrade scale, equal to 471’6° of Fah- Saturated
renheit’s thermometer ; namely, from 25’6° below 0° Fahr., Steam,
at which the pressure is less than 0006 lb. on the square
inch of surface, to 446° Fahr., at which the pressure is
over 400 lb. on the square inch. Both extremes of this
range are at present much beyond the limits at which
a practical formula is required for calculations relating to
the steam-engine. The lower limit, especially, is ob¬
viously of no moment for such an object, however im¬
portant it may be for other scientific purposes. Bearing in
mind these considerations, Mr Buchanan adopted a tem¬
perature of 120° Fain*, as the lower limit of temperature at
which it is practically necessary to consider the elasticity of
steam as a motive-power, and he determined the constants
from that limit to the higher extremity of the given curve,
for the results obtained, both by the air and the mercurial
thermometer. The values of these constants are arranged
in the following statement:—
When the elasticity of the
steam is expressed in atmo¬
spheres of 29-9212 inches of mer¬
cury, =14-68728 lb. on the square
inch of surface 
When the elasticity is ex-,
pressed in atmospheres of 301
inches of mercury=14-726 lb./
on the square inch J
When the elasticity is ex-\
pressed in inches of mercury of
specific gravity 13-59596, which
corresponds to the density at I
32° Fahr >
{A=5-0324128 for the air
thermometer.
=4-8988483 for the mer¬
curial do.
{A=5-0312707 for the air
thermometer.
=4-8977061 for the mer¬
curial do.
^=6-5083919 for the air
thermometer.
=6‘3748274for the mer¬
curial do.
then
When the elasticity is ex
pressed in lbs. on the square inch
•Jthenj
rA=6-1993544 for the air
thermometer.
=6-0657899 for the mer¬
curial do.
For the air thermometer  B=2938-16.
„ mercurial thermometer  B=2795-97.
„ air thermometer  C= 37P85.
„ mercurial thermometer  0= 358-74.
The formulas for p lb. pressure on the square inch, by the
two modes of measuring the temperature are, therefore—
For the Air Thermometer.
Log p = 6T 993544 2938 16
£ =
2938T6
6T 993544 - log p
£ + 37l‘85 ’
371*85.
For the Mercurial Thermometer.
279e)'97
Logp=6-0657899-( + 8.8.74i
t =
2795*97
6*0657899 - log p
- 358*74.
Mr Buchanan observes, that “ the indications by the air
thermometer are greatly more to be relied upon than those
of the mercurial. The air thermometer is not only more
sensitive, but likewise admits of the employment of a rela¬
tively larger volume of the expanding fluid, compared with
the volume of the glass envelope in which it is enclosed,
The errors arising from the different expansibilities of dif¬
ferent qualities of glass are, in consequence, much reduced
relatively in amount; and, besides, the expansion of the
fluid is very nearly uniform for equal increments of tem¬
perature. It is, however, the mercurial thermometer which
is ordinarily employed in the measurement of temperatures,
and accordingly it is of importance that the indications of
the ordinary instrument should be represented by an ap¬
propriate formula. This formula, it is true, cannot possess
566
STEAM.
Relation more than an average approximation to the measurement
of the Pres- by any particular instruments ; for all thermometers made
sure and from djfferent qualities of glass, and even when the usual
fixed points are exactly and accurately determined, differ
Saturated from one another at the higher temperatures. This is fully
Steam, illustrated by the comparisons given by M. Regnault, in his
memoir on the measurement of temperature, which has
been justly characterized as one of the most elegant and
successful examples we possess of the combination of ex¬
perimental adaptation with inductive application of the re¬
sults obtained. Let us take a single line of one of the
many tables furnished; it compares four of the mercurial
thermometers used with each other, and with the tempera¬
ture indicated by the standard air thermometer. Take the
temperature of 250° C. by the standard: in the medium
having that temperature, the mercurial thermometer of
Choisy-le-Roi crystal, indicated  253 00 C.
Ordinary glass    250-05
Green glass 25185
Swedish glass  251-44
At 100° higher, namely, 350° C., by the air thermometer,
the first of these four thermometers gave 360’5° ; and the
second, 354°, as the temperature of the same medium. In
this, it is to be remarked, that the deviations of the ordi¬
nary glass thermometer are the least; and this is true
throughout the whole extent of the table,—a circumstance
which ought to attract the attention, especially of the
makers of these instruments. The wide differences thus
shown to exist among thermometrical instruments of the very
best description, render it little surprising that there should
have existed very considerable discrepancies among the
results obtained by different experimenters, in investigations
involving the measurement of temperature. Both Reg¬
nault and Magnus have fortunately avoided this source of
uncertainty in their researches relative to the elasticity of
gaseous fluids, and accordingly their results agree with re¬
markable nearness.”
The formulas employed by Regnault to connect the tem¬
perature with the pressure of steam in a state of saturation,
chiefly constructed on the model of Biot’s equation, though
greatly more laborious, do not appear to be much, if in
any degree, more exact than those constructed on Professor
Roche’s model. The wide range over which Buchanan’s
rules extend, based on Roche’s model, and the great accu¬
racy which they exhibit within the limits for which they are
determined, seem to indicate that they contain at least the
first terms of the absolute law. This supposition is further
countenanced by the circumstance referred to by Mr
Buchanan, that the same form expresses, better than any
other, the tension of the vapours of some other liquids, as
ether and alcohol; and he suggests that the formula ought
to contain higher powers of the temperature than the first;
that it ought to take some such form as the following:—
x A* + (3t + yt‘i+'
M. Bary applied the formula in this form, continued to the
third power of t, to vapours.
Professor Rankine, of Glasgow, in 1849, published a for¬
mula for vapours in general, as follows:—
T be
Log p = a-j-jiy
in which log p represents the logarithm of the pressure of
vapour at saturation ; t, the absolute temperature a, b, c,
three constants, to be determined from three experimental
data for each fluid. When the pressure is expressed in
inches of mercury, and the temperature in degrees of Fah¬
renheit, the values of these constants, for steam, are as
follows :—
a = 6*426421; log 5 = 3*4403816; log c=5*o932626.
The inverse formula, for calculating the temperature from
the pressure, is—
1 _ la — log p b1 b
t N/ c 4 c2 2 c ’
Constitu¬
ent Heat of
Saturated
Steam.
in which A = 0*003o163, -^=0*000012364.
2 c 4 c2
The operations of this formula are considerable, but in
point of accuracy it is generally very satisfactory. Extend¬
ing from — 22° to 446° of Fahrenheit’s scale, it is the most
exact of all the formulae hitherto proposed for the same
width of range. It is, however, much more tedious, espe¬
cially in the inverse form, and is at least not more exact
than Mr Buchanan’s formula, between the same limits.
CHAP. VII.—CONSTITUENT HEAT OF SATURATED STEAM.
The relation of the sensible temperature, measured by
the thermometer, and the pressure of saturated steam,
having been approximately determined and formulated, the
next stage of the inquiry is the relation which the sensible
temperature bears to the total heat of saturated steam.
The total heat of steam comprises the latent heat, in addi¬
tion to the sensible heat or temperature; that which is not
directly measurable by the thermometer, and therefore
called latent, together with that which is directly sensible
to, and measurable by it. The total heat of steam would
appear, at first sight, to be in some way related to, if not
identical with, total or absolute temperature. The latter
is, however, a speculative quantity, employed in the consi¬
deration of gaseous bodies, for the convenient expression
of their known properties. The total heat of steam, ac¬
cording to the general acceptation, as defined by M.
Regnault, is that quantity of heat which would be trans¬
ferred to some other body in condensing the steam at
the same temperature and pressure as those at which
it was generated, and in cooling the condensed steam,
or water, down to the freezing point. That is to say,
conversely, if water be supplied at the freezing point
of temperature, 0° centigrade, or 32° Fahrenheit, for
evaporation into steam, the total quantity of heat applied
to the water, and consumed in generating steam of any
pressure and temperature from it, is said to be the total
heat of the steam of the given pressure and temperature ;
and in general, whatever may be the actual temperature of
the water from which the steam is generated, the total
heat of the steam is reckoned from the freezing point. The
adoption of the freezing-point as the zero for total heat, as
well as for that of the sensible temperature in the case of
the centigrade thermometer, is not done, of course, with
any purpose of fixing an absolute datum for total constituent
heat; but for convenience, being situated sufficiently low
in the scale of temperature to underlie all the ordinary cal¬
culations about steam.
It was determined experimentally by Regnault, that the
latent heat of saturated steam, at 0° C., was 606*5° C.;
so that the latent heat of 1 lb. of steam, at 0° C., would
raise the temperature of 606*5 lb. of cold water through ]°.
The total heat of steam at 0° C. is the same as the latent
heat, namely, 606*5o C.; and it was found that the total
heat of saturated steam increased uniformly between the
temperatures of 0° and 230° C., by *305°, with each incre¬
ment of 1° of temperature. The specific heat of ordinary
steam is thus *305°, that of water being =1. The total
heat H of saturated steam of any temperature if, in cen¬
tigrade degrees, is therefore expressed by the equation—
H = 606*5+ *305 t.
From this equation it appears, that, whilst the sensible
heat or temperature rises 1°, the total heat increases only
*305°, or less than a third of a degree. The latent heat
STEAM.
567
Constitu- must, therefore, necessarily be diminished as the tempera-
ent Heat of ture rises, other circumstances being the same, by as much
Saturated as *305° falls short of 1°, or 1 — ’305 = "GQo0 for each degree
Steam. 0f temperature; and the decreasing latent heat would be
expressed by GOG'S0 — *695° t. There is one slight dis¬
turbing element, however,—the specific heat of water, which
is not constant for all temperatures, but is slightly in¬
creased by a rise of temperature ; and by as much as the
specific heat of the water is increased, the latent heat of
the steam is still further diminished, and the true rate of
reduction is expressed by a higher fraction than ’695 t. In
fact, if the specific heat of water, at temperatures between
0° and 30° C., be represented by an average of unity,
it will be equal to T005 between 30° and 120°, and T013
between 120° and 190° C., or 374° Fahr. M. Regnault
embodies this slight rate of increase in the formula,
C = L +'00004 £+'0000009 f, in which C is the specific
heat of water at any temperature t, that at 0° C., the
freezing-point, being = 1. The introduction of this element
into a general formula for the latent heat of steam, would
complicate it too much for general use; and for present
purposes, the equation employed by Clausius is preferred,
namely,
L = 607 - ‘70S t,
in which L is the latent heat due to the temperature t; and
it may be noted that the co-efficient of t is slightly increased
above that which would be due to a constant specific
heat of water, as the deduction due to a slightly increasing
specific heat. That the results afforded by the simpler
equation are sufficiently near correctness, appears by the
following comparative instances of its application, at diffe¬
rent temperatures, by Fahrenheit’s scale, as against the use
of Regnault’s correct but more complicated process :—
100° 200° 212° 300° 400° F.
By Clausius, L= 1044-4 973-6 965-1 902-8 832
By Regnault, L = 1044-47 974 965-7 902-9 829-84
In estimating the latent heat of steam at 100° C., or
212° Fahr., Regnault found, that on account of the slight
variation of the specific heat of water, 100'5 centigrade
units, or 180'9 Fahrenheit units, of heat, were required
to raise the unit of water from 0° to 100° C., or through
180° Fahr.; and he found that the total heat of steam, at
100° C., was 636'67° C. From this deduct 100'5°, and the
difference, 636'67 — 100'5 = 536T7° C., represents the true
latent heat of steam at 100° C. But as, in the compilation
of his tables, Regnault started with the integral number
637°, the latent heat of saturated steam, at 100° C., or
. 212° Fahr., is estimated by him at 536'0° C. =965'7° Fahr.
To modify the formula for the total heat of steam, in terms
of Fahrenheit degrees, 606'5° C. x 9-5-5 = 109T7° Fahr., is
the total heat at 32° Fahr.; and as t represents the indi¬
cated temperature, the total heat would be expressed by
109T7 +'305 (£ — 32), or, in a more general form, by
(1123'7 - 32) + (*305£ - 9-76) = (1113*94-32) +-305£.
The first element in this expression should be reduced to
1113’4, in order to produce exact conformity with the ob¬
served total heat at 212° Fahr., Regnault’s starting-point;
and the formula for the total heat, in terms of Fahrenheit
degrees, becomes,
H = (1113'4 — 32) + '305£ ; or,
H = 1081 *4 + *305£.
By this equation, the total heat of steam generated at 212°
Fahr. is equal to 1113*4-32 +('305 x 212) = 1146° Fahr.;
and this represents what would be consumption of heat in
generating the steam, if the water were supplied at 32°
Fahr. By means of the same form of equation, the total
expenditure of heat consumed in raising steam from water
supplied at ordinary temperatures may be calculated, by
substituting for 32 in the formula, the initial temperature
of the water supplied for evaporation, subject to an allow¬
ance, if deemed sufficiently important, for the slight in- Constitu-
crease of specific heat of the water of higher temperature. e"t Heat
Thus, when the water is supplied at 62° Fahr., the average Sgttg^e<i
temperature of cold water, the extra specific heat may be
neglected, and the heat expended in generating steam from
the water is expressed by the equation,
Hx=(l 113'4 — 62) + '305£; or
Hj = 1051'4 + *305£.
If, as in condensing engines, the water be supplied at, say
100° Fahr., the heat expended in generating steam from it,
again neglecting the specific heat, is expressed as follows :—
H2 = (1113‘4 — 100) + '305£ ; or,
H2= 1013-4+ -305£.
Again, if the water be supplied at a boiling temperature,
212° Fahr., the specific heat of the water at 212°, as already
noted, would be *9 unit, or degree, of heat in excess of that
at 32°, and 212 + '9 = 212'9° should be substituted. Hence,
for an initial temperature of 212° Fahr., the expenditure of
heat in generating steam would be
H3 = (1113'4-212-9)+ *305£; or,
H3 = 900-5+ *30o£.
To convert Clausius’s formula for the latent heat of
steam, namely, L = 607 —’708£, into Fahrenheit’s measure,
607° C. x 9+-5 = 1092*6° Fahr., and for £° C. substitute
(£-32) Fahr., then L = 1092'6°-*708 (£-32) Fahr., or
finally, by the Fahrenheit scale,
L = 1115'2--708£.
It is convenient to bear in mind that the same figures
which express in degrees the relations of the constituent
heat of steam, as ratios simply, not as absolute quantities,
express also positive values—in units of heat—when applied
to 1 pound-weight of steam, in accordance with the defini¬
tion of the heat-unit, or the thermal unit. Now, to trace the
appropriation of all the heat which contributes to the forma¬
tion of a pound of steam, in terms of thermal units, as well as
of dynamic units or foot-pounds, take 1 pound of water at 32°
Fahr., to be converted into saturated steam at 212°. The
first instalment of heat is provided to elevate the tempera¬
ture to 212°, through 180° ; in other words, to increase the
molecular velocity and slightly expand the liquid, which
appropriates 180'9 units of heat, equivalent to 180'9x 772
= 139655 foot-pounds. Secondly, heat is absorbed in over¬
coming the molecular attraction, and separating the par¬
ticles ; that is, in the formation of steam, appropriating
892*8 units of heat = 689,242 foot-pounds. Thirdly, in
repelling the incumbent pressure, whether of the atmo¬
sphere, or of the neighbouring steam ; that is, to raise
a load of 14'7 lb. per square inch, or 2116*8 lb. on a square
foot, through a cubic space of 26*36 cubic feet, which is
the volume of 1 pound of saturated steam: equal to
55,815 foot-pounds, or 72'3 units of heat. Strictly, there
is the initial volume of the original pound of water to
be deducted from this total volume; but it is relatively
small, and need not be further considered. The second of
the above proportions of heat is formed by subtracting
the sum of the first and third, which are both arrived at
by direct observation, from the total heat. The first is the
sensible heat, and the second and third together constitute
the latent heat. With respect to the third constituent pro¬
portion of heat, it is simply an expression of the necessary
mechanical labour of disengaging 26'36 cubic feet of steam,
and forcing its way into space against a pressure of 2116'8
lb. per square foot; and these quantities being multiplied
together, and divided by 772, are equivalent to 72'3 units
of heat.
The proportions of the heat expended in generating
saturated steam at 212^ Fahr., and at 14'7 lb. pressure per
square inch, from water supplied at 32°, may be exhibited
thus .*i—  
568
STEAM.
Constitu¬
ent Heat of
Saturated
Steam.
The Sensible Heat:—
1. To raise the temperature of the
water from 32° to 212°, through
180°, 
The Latent Heat:—
2. In the formation of steam,  
3. In resisting the incumbent pres¬
sure of 14-7 lb. per square inch,
or 2116-8 lb. per square foot...
Units
of
Heat.
180-9 or
892-8 „
72-3 „
Mechanical
Equivalent
in foot-pounds.
139,655
689,242
55,815
Latent heat  965-1 or 745,057
Total heat  1146-0 or 884,712
Supposing, however, that 1 lb. of water, at 32° Fahr.,
were injected into a vacuous space or vessel, having 26'36
cubic feet of capacity. If heat were applied to evaporate
this water into steam of 212°, and 14-7 lb. per square inch
pressure, so as to fill the whole space with saturated steam,
the expenditure of heat would consist only of the sensible
heat, to raise the temperature of the water 180-9 units,
plus the latent heat for the formation of the steam, 892'8
units, = 1073'7 units, as in this case there would be no
incumbent pressure to resist, and no extraneous work.
But, again, let a second pound of water be injected into
the same vessel, already full of steam, to be evaporated into
steam of 14-7 lb. pressure per square inch, so that the
vapour of the second pound of water must expel the first, a
uniform pressure of 14‘7 lb. per square inch being main¬
tained within the vessel. The expenditure of heat in the
generation of the second pound will be 72-3 units in excess
of that required for the first pound, being the additional
quantity required to repel the incumbent pressure; and
the total expenditure will be 1146 units. The 72-3 units
excess of heat expended on the second pound of steam
disappears, or rather it does not appear as heat, but is trans¬
formed into the work of expelling the first pound of steam ;
and, after its production, the second pound contains just
the same quantity of heat as the first, namely, 1073-7 units,
which may be proved by condensing them both into water
of 32° Fahr.
The latent heat of steam, then, is not, as is sometimes
supposed, an expression of the total work or energy in the
steam ; but is the work expended in overcoming the at¬
traction of the particles, forcing them asunder, together
with the work expended in repelling the external pressure
under which the steam is generated. As the temperature
rises, the centrifugal velocity, or vibratory motion of the
minute particles is accelerated, the liquid expands, and
the attraction of the particles is consequently diminished.
Hence that part of the latent heat, or work, expended in
effecting an entire separation of the particles, diminishes as
the temperature rises. When water is evaporated at alow
temperature, it is obvious that the particles are held to¬
gether by a greater force than if it were evaporated at a
higher temperature, after heat has been expended in ac¬
celerating the velocity of the particles, and expanding the
liquid; and less work is expended in effecting their separa¬
tion. At high temperatures the particles are already in
part separated; they have a less hold on each other, and
consequently an entire separation is more easily completed
at higher than at lower temperatures. On the contrary,
the second, but inferior portion of latent heat expended in
repelling the external resistance—the product of increasing
pressure into diminishing volume—increases slowly as the
temperature rises; but the increase in this respect is less
than the decrease in respect of the chief duty of the latent
heat. In this manner it is to be explained, that though
the total constituent heat of steam slowly increases as the
temperature rises, in consequence of the comparative
rapidity with which the sensible heat increases, the latent
heat slowly diminishes as the temperature is elevated.
CHAP. VIII.—THE DENSITY OP SATURATED STEAM. Density of
Saturated
On the principle of the mechanical equivalence of heat Steam.
according to which heat, and work or duty performed, are
convertible into and representative of each other, the in¬
vestigation of the properties of steam may be conveniently
conducted in terms of one form of expression or the other
—heat, or dynamic effect—as the nature of the experi¬
mental evidence may demand. The density of saturated
steam is one of its properties which has not yet been ac¬
curately determined by direct experiment; nor, of course,
has the relative volume, which is inversely as the density.
The density of steam is expressed by the weight of a given
constant volume—say one cubic foot; and the relative
volume by the number of volumes of steam produced by
one volume of water—hence called relative. The density
and the relative volume are, however, most accurately de¬
terminable by means of the pressure, temperature, and
latent heat of steam, all of which have been subjects of
careful and comprehensive experiment. When steam is
freely generated in contact with water in a boiler, the actual
process of generation consists, first, in heating the water to
the temperature due to the pressure under which the steam
is generated; second, in the absorption of a large quantity
of heat which becomes latent—not affecting the thermo¬
meter—and is replaced physically by a quantity of steam
of the same temperature—the sensible heat of the water
continuing sensible in the steam. It is properly argued,
then, that the specific function of converting the water into
steam, of changing a non-elastic into an elastic substance,
of thus developing a reservoir of motive-power where none
existed before, is performed by the latent heat; and that,
inasmuch as the process is just the conversion or change of
form, of heat into elastic force, the force or power so manifested
is simply commensurate with the latent heat; and if the la¬
tent heat, the amount of which is known experimentally,
be converted into foot-pounds, in terms of Joule’s equiva¬
lent, it will constitute one side of an equation, which will
show on the other side the dynamic expression of the rela¬
tive temperature and pressure, which also are directly
known by experiment.
Suppose 1 pound of water in contact with other water,
to be converted into 1 pound of steam within a boiler,
and that the process of heating and conversion be com¬
menced at the bottom of the scale of absolute temperature,
at 461 below zero Fahrenheit. Whether it be possible or
not, it is at least conceivable that the whole of the given
weight of water may be in a state of vapour at 1° absolute
temperature, ot extreme tenuity, indefinitely large in volume,
and indefinitely low in pressure ; let it be supposed that
this 1 pound of steam occupies the entire capacity of the
boiler, and let the temperature be raised to 2°; another por¬
tion of vapour would be generated, occupying part of the
capacity of the boiler, and forcing the prior steam into
smaller compass, and thus increasing its density. If the
temperature be thus continually elevated by degrees, the
particular pound of steam under consideration would be
continually reduced into smaller bulk, and its density would
be increased, and likewise the pressure. It may properly
be conceived, therefore, to undergo a process of compres¬
sion from its conception to maturity—the increments of
pressure accumulating with the increments of density and
pressure. Now, the work or dynamic force accumulated in
the given pound of steam, in virtue of the successive com¬
pression to which it may be supposed to have been subjected,
is the same in quantity for each degree of temperature:—it
is equal, in fact, to the product of the final increment of
pressure multiplied into the final volume of the steam. Or—
regarding the problem in another way—a pound of water is
converted into a pound of steam, generating and occupying
a certain volume, and this volume is consummated with a
STEAM.
Density of final increment of pressure for the final degree of tempera-
Saturated ture.
Steam. This final increment of pressure, then, represents, for this
particular volume, one degree of temperature ; and if multi¬
plied into the volume, is an expression of the action for one
degree of temperature. If further multiplied by the abso¬
lute temperature in degrees, the resulting product expresses
the whole of the latent heat of evaporation inherent in the
given weight of steam.
In strict argument, this mode of estimation, in terms of
the whole volume of the steam, gives a result slightly in
excess of the literal result, as the volume actually generated
is not the whole final volume, but only the excess of this
above the volume of the water from which it is generated.
To vary the form of the argument, suppose the final
volume of the given pound-weight of steam to be erected
into a vertical column on 1 square foot of base, the
column would of course weigh 1 pound ; and if the height
be multiplied by the final increment of pressure in lbs.
per square foot for one degree of temperature, the product
would express the height of a vertical column of the steam
on 1 square foot of base, equal in weight to the final in¬
crement of pressure. If the weight be again multiplied by
the absolute temperature, the ultimate product will express
the latent heat of 1 pound weight of steam in “ feet of
fall” of 1 pound, that is, foot-pounds ; and, further, divid¬
ing by 772, Joule’s equivalent, the quotient will be the
equivalent value of the latent heat in units or degrees of
Fahrenheit’s scale.
This form of reasoning, no doubt, contains a principle
of hypothetical origin, according to which the actual heat
present in a substance is simply proportional to its tem¬
perature, measured from a certain point of absolute cold,
and multiplied by a specific constant; and “ although,”
as Professor Rankine observes, “existing experimental
data may not be adequate to verify this principle precisely,
they are still sufficient to prove, that it is near enough to
the truth for all purposes connected with thermo-dynamic
engines, and to afford a strong probability that it is an exact
physical law.”
Let g = the increment of pressure for the final degree of
temperature in lbs. on the square foot; 772 foot-pounds
= the mechanical equivalent of one unit of heat, or so much
heat as would raise the temperature of 1 pound of cold
water 1°; L = the latent heat of 1 pound of water in units,
which is of course identical with the latent heat in de¬
grees deduced from the temperature; T = the absolute
temperature; V = the volume of 1 lb. of steam in cubic
feet, and v the volume of the water from which it is ge¬
nerated; then V -t; = the volume generated, and the con¬
templated equation would be as follows :—
772L = Tg (V-«) ;
or, for simplicity, let the volume of the water be neglected,
as it is not practically important, then the equation would
be—
772L = TgV.
From this equation, it follows that the latent heat of one
pound of steam is
T ToV .
L= - units ox heat; or,
L = T^V foot-pounds.
Consequently, also, the latent heat l, of one cubic foot of
steam, dividing the above quantities by V, is
/= 7^21 un^ts ^eat ’ or’
£= T^r foot-pounds.
1 he volume of 1 lb. of steam in cubic feet, L being ex¬
pressed in units of heat, is
VOL. xx.
V =
772 L
Ttf
cubic feet.
As the weight of 1 cubic foot of cold water is 62*3 lbs.,
it follows that 62,3V is the volume, in cubic feet, of the
steam generated from 1 cubic foot of water. If n be the
relative volume, then w=62,3V, and V = w-r-62,3; and,
by substitution,
_n _ 772L
62-3 - ~yTg—'>
from which the relative volume of the steam is
772L
569
Density of
Saturated
Steam.
T$r-S- 62*3 ’
also, conversely, the latent heat, in Fahrenheit degrees, in
terms of the relative volume, is
I - nT.9
772 x 62'3‘
For illustration, let the temperature be raised from 211J
to 212£°, through one degree, the pressure will rise from
20941b. to 2136 lb. per square foot, making the increment
of pressure #=42 lb. per square foot. The mean tempera¬
ture is 212°, and the absolute temperature T = 461 +212
= 673°. The latent heat T# in foot-pounds, of 1 cubic
foot of steam at 212°, and a pressure of \A'*1 lb. per square
inch, or 2116,8 lb. per square foot, is, therefore, 673 x 42
= 28,266 foot-pounds. To determine next the value of
V, the volume of 1 lb. of steam at 212°, and at atmo¬
spheric pressure, let the steam be gaseous, then, by the
equation for gaseous steam (which will be afterwards ex¬
plained), V = 85-4 T -i-P = 85-4 x 673-f-2116-8 = 27-16
cubic feet; and substituting numerical values, we have for
the latent heat of 1 lb. of gaseous steam at 212°, and at¬
mospheric pressure,
L =
T#V 673 x 42 x 27-16
772 ^ 772
= 994-4,
which is precisely the latent heat of gaseous steam at 212°,
as deduced by Mr Brownlee, in terms of Regnault’s con¬
stant for the specific heat of gaseous steam, namely, *475.
According to the preceding equations, the volume of
1 lb. of saturated steam at 212°, is
V =
772 L 772x965-1
T# 673 x 42
and the relative volume of the same steam is
772 x 965-1
= 26'36 cubic feet;
673x42+62-3
= 1642 volumes,
which has been, but erroneously, considered to be 1700
volumes.
The density or weight of 1 cubic foot of saturated
steam is readily deducible from the equation for the volume
in cubic feet of 1 pound of steam, in which V = 772L +
T# ; as the weight of a cubic foot is simply the inverse
of this equation. Thus, the density D, or the weight in
pounds of 1 cubic foot = y-, or
T#
D =
772 L‘
Mr James Brownlee has deduced a simple expression for
the density of saturated steam in terms of the total pres¬
sure, thus—
P-941
D =
or.
330-36 ’
Log D = *941 log p-2-519;
in which D is the weight of 1 cubic foot of steam, of the
pressure p Fahr. The results presented by means of this
formula are very accurate; they do not differ from those
4 c
570
Gaseous
Steam.
STEAM.
obtained in terms of the temperature and latent heat of
steam for pressures from 1 lb. to 250 lb. per square inch
by more than }th per cent. The volume in cubic feet of
1 pound of saturated steam is of course expressed by the
inverse of the weight in pounds of a cubic foot of the steaiUj
thus V = 4r, consequently
p
Log V = 2,519-,941 log/?.
Again, the relative volume of the steam is expressed by
the ratio of 62-3 lb., the weight of a cubic foot of water, to
D the weight of a cubic foot of steam; hence, 62 3
•941
 = 62‘3 x 330-36-f-/? ‘94l, = the relative volume.
330-36 ^
Putting n = the relative volume.
20559
n~ p-94i ’ 0r>
Log 4*3135 — (-941 x log />);
from which it appears that the relative volume of saturated
steam of 14-7 lb. pressure per square inch, and 212° tem¬
perature, is 1642, the same as was found before in terms of
the temperature and latent heat.
CHAP. IX.—GASEOUS STEAM.
If ordinary or saturated steam be superheated or “ sur¬
charged” with heat, it advances from the state of satura¬
tion into that of gaseity. The transition into the gaseous
state involves a considerable elevation of temperature, by
amounts which increase with the pressures; and steam,
when thus sufficiently elevated in temperature above the
saturation-point due to its density, is known as gaseous
steam, distinctively from ordinary, or, as it may be called,
imperfectly gaseous steam.
Regnault found, throughout the whole range of his ob¬
servations, that the specific density of gaseous steam at all
temperatures was '622 ; that is to say, the weights of equal
volumes of air and sufficiently superheated or gaseous
steam, having the same pressures and temperatures, were as
1 to -622, and that therefore the steam so treated was
gaseous, as, the specific density being constant, the air and
the gaseous steam, when taken at the same temperature,
must expand alike when equally raised in temperature.
Confirmatory of Regnault’s specific density of gaseous
steam, the chemical union of oxygen and hydrogen, in the
proportions to form steam, may be referred to. Two cubic
feet of hydrogen and one of oxygen combining, will form
two cubic feet of gaseous steam at the same temperature.
The specific density of hydrogen is = -06926, and that of
oxygen = IT 0563, and the density of the product is in the
combined ratio of the densities and the uniting volumes.
Hydrogen, 2 volumes, X -06926 = -13852
Oxygen, 1 do. X 1-10563 = 1-10563
Gaseous steam, 2 volumes  1-24415 -f- 2
Specific density = ’622
being the same as was determined by Regnault from direct
observation.
In accordance with the relations of perfect gases, the
weight of a cubic foot of air, expressive of the density, D,
at any pressure per square inch, p, and temperature, l ,
Fahrenheit, is expressed by the equation,
p_ H4 p
53-15 (t + 461) ’
in which 144 p expresses the pressure per square foot, t + 461
the absolute temperature, and 53-15 a constant determined
for air. The same form will express the weight of steam
by a modification of the constant in terms of the specific
density ; thus, for gaseous steam, 53-15 *f- -622 = 85-4 is Gaseous
the appropriate constant, and the weight of a cubic foot of Steam,
gaseous steam is expressed by the equation,
144 /? P
D~85-4 (< +461) “85-4 T’
in which P = 144/?, and T = * + 461.
As the pressure, volume, and temperature of gaseous
steam, and other gases, vary with each other in simple
ratios—the pressure and the volume inversely with each
other, and both of them directly with the absolute tempera¬
ture—their mutual relation for any given constant weight
of gas is such, that the pressure multiplied by the volume
is equal to the absolute temperature multiplied by a con¬
stant number. For gaseous steam, as the weight in pounds
of 1 cubic foot is equal to P -r- 85’4 T ; then, conversely,
the volume in cubic feet of 1 pound of steam is 85-4T -f-
P, and, generally, PV = 85"4T, for gaseous steam. For
air, and a few other gases, the following are the general
equations for a given weight, 1 pound of gas :—
Constants for One Pound Weight of Gas.
Specific Density.
Air rV = T x 53.15 1-000
Gaseous steam PV = T x 85-4 -622
Oxygen gas   ....PV = T x 48-07 1-106
Hydrogen gas PV = T x 767-4 -069
Sulphuric ether  PV = T x 20-8 2-556
Alcohol PV = T x 33-45 1-589
Chloroform PV = T x 10 0 5-300
In order to find the total heat of steam, it may be observed,
that from some experiments made by Regnault, it ap¬
peared that ordinary steam is nearly gaseous at temperatures
below 60° Fahr. Mr Brownlee has adopted a fundamen¬
tal temperature of 40° Fahr. as that at which the saturated
and the gaseous steams become identical in constitution.
For gaseous -steam, Regnault found the specific heat to
be *475° : that is, that the total heat of gaseous steam in¬
creases uniformly ■475° for each degree of sensible tem¬
perature ; and it follows that an equation on the model of
that for saturated steam may be found to express the total
heat of gaseous steam. Proceeding on this basis, Mr
Brownlee finds, by the formula for saturated steam, that the
total heat of steam at 40° Fahr., and at the pressure due to
saturation, is 1113"4 — 32 + ("305 x 40) = 1093-6° F.; and
he substitutes for "305 the gaseous constant -475, and ad¬
justs also the first quantity in the expression, reducing it
to 1106-6,—by as much, in fact, as the constant "475 adds
to the first side of the equation. The expression, then, be¬
comes 1106-6-3§ +(-475 x 40)= 1093-6° F., showing the
same total heat, 1093-6° Fahr., regarded as gaseous steam,
as was found by the formula appropriate for saturated steam.
The general formula for the total heat of gaseous steam,
putting ^ for the temperature in Fahrenheit degrees, is, then,
H= 1106-6-32+ -475/; or,
H = 1074-6 +-475*.
To raise the temperature of the vapour generated at 40°
to 212° through 172°, the pressure remaining the same, the
additional heat is measured by ”475 x 172 = 8T7°, and
1093-6 + 81-7= 1175-30, the total heat. Or, employing the
above equation in the calculation, -475 x 212=100-7, and
H = 1074-6+100-7= 1175-3°, as before.
As already shown for saturated steam, the foregoing
equation for the total heat of gaseous steam may be em¬
ployed to find the actual expenditure of heat in raising
gaseous steam from water of any temperature higher than
32° Fahr. The latent heat of this steam may be estimated
from the total heat by deducting 180-9°, the heat neces¬
sary to raise the temperature of water from 32° to 212°;
thus, 1175-3 -180-9 = 994-4°, is the latent heat of any
gaseous steam at 212°.
STEAM.
Table of
the Pro¬
perties of
Saturated
Steam.
As for saturated steam, so also for gaseous steam, the
latent heat diminishes as the temperature rises, but not so
rapidly in the latter as in the former, as the specific heat
is greater; that is to say, the increment of total heat, '4.1
for each degree of sensible temperature of gaseous steam,
is greater than the increment, ‘SOS'5, for saturated steam ;
and therefore the difference, 1 — *475 = •525°, being the re¬
duction of latent heat for each degree of temperature for
gaseous steam, is less than the difference, 1 —'305 = -69o°,
for saturated steam.
The actual expenditure of heat in generating gaseous
steam from water of higher temperature than 32° Fahr., may
be found by substituting the temperature for 32 in the last
formula; as follows, forthecommontemperature62°Fahr.;—
1106'6 — 62 +’475^; or,
1^= 1044-6+ -475*.
For a temperature of 100° Fahr. the formula is—
H2= 1106‘6 - 100 + ’47o^; or,
H2= 1006-6+ -475£
For a temperature of 212°, with the specific heat of water
212-9°, the formula is—
H3= 1106-6-212-9+ -475/; or,
H3 = 893-7+ ‘475*.
TABLE OP THE PROPERTIES OF SATURATED STEAM.
The appended table of the properties of saturated steam
has been calculated by means of the formulas in this article.
1 he first column contains the ascending total pressures in
pounds per square inch. The second column, of tempera¬
tures, was calculated from the pressures by the formula—
2938-16
-371-85;
6-1993544 - log. p
the third column, of total heat, was calculated by the for¬
mula H = 1081-4 + -305 t; the fourth column, of latent heat,
by the formula L= 1115-2 —*708 the fifth column, of
density, by the formula Log D =-941 log. p-2-519; the
sixth column, of the volume of 1 lb. of steam, by the formula
Log V = 2-519 —"941 log. p; and the seventh column,
of relative volume, by the formula Lor w = 4-3135 -
("941 x log/).)
Table of the Properties of Saturated Steam.
Total I Tempera-
pressuroi tore in
per Fahren-
square heit de-
inch. grees.
Lb.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
14-7
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
Fahr.
102-1
126-3
141-6
1531
162-3
170-2
176-9
182-9
188-3
193-3
197-8
202-0
205-9
209-6
2120
213-1
216-3
219-6
222-4
225-3
2280
230-6
233-1
235-5
237-8
240 1
242-3
244-4
-246-4
248-4
250-4
252-2
254- 1
255- 9
257-6
259- 3
260- 9
262-6
264- 2
265- 8
267- 3
268- 7
270- 2
271- 6
2730
274- 4
275- 8
277-1
Total
Heat in
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees from
32 degrees.
Fahr.
1112-5
1119-7
1124-6
1128-1
1130-9
1133-3
1135-3
1137- 2
1138- 8
1140- 3
1141- 7
11430
1144- 2
1145- 3
1146- 1
1146- 4
1147- 4
1148- 3
1149- 2
11501
1150- 9
1151- 7
1152- 5
1153- 2
1153- 9
1154- 6
1155- 3
1155- 8
1156- 4
1157- 1
1157- 8
1158- 4
1158-9
1159 5
1160-0
1160- 5
1161- 0
1161- 5
1162- 0
1162-5
1162- 9
1163- 4
1163- 8
1164- 2
1164- 6
1165- 1
1165-5
1165-9
Latent
Heat.
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees.
Fahr.
1042-9
1025-8
1015-0
1006-8
1000-3
994-7
990-0
985-7
981-9
978-4
975-2
972-2
969-4
966-8
965-2
964-3
962-1
959-8
957-7
955-7
952-8
951-3
949-9
948-5
946-9
945-3
943-7
942-2
940-8
939-4
937-9
936-7
935-3
934-0
932-8
931-6
930-5
929-3
928-2
927-1
9260
924-9
923-9
922-9
921-9
920-9
919-9
919-0
Density or
weight of
one cubic
foot.
Lb.
•0030
•0058
•0085
•0112
•0138
•0163
•0189
■0214
•0239
•0264
•0289
•0314
•0338
•0362
•0380
•0387
•0411
•0435
•0459
•0483
•0507
•0531
•0555
•0580
•0601
•0625
•0650
•0673
•0696
•0719
•0743
•0766
•0789
•0812
•0835
•0858
•0881
•0905
•0929
•0952
•0974
•0996
•1020
•1042
•1065
•1089
•1111
•1133
Volume of
one pound
of Steam.
Relation
Volume, or
cubic feet
of Steam
from one
cubic foot
of Water.
Cubic Feet
330-36
172-08
117-52
89-62
72-66
61-21
52 94
46-69
41-79
37-84
34-63
31-88
29-57
27-61
26-36
25-85
24-32
22-96
21-78
20-70
19-72
18-84
18-03
17-26
16-64
15-99
15-38
14-86
14-37
13-90
13-46
13-05
12-67
12-31
11-97
11-65
11-34
11-04
10-76
10-51
10-27
10-03
9-81
9-59
9-39
9-18
9-00
8-82
Eel. Vol,
20582
10721
7322
5583
4527
3813
3298
2909
2604
2358
2157
1986
1842
1720
1642
1610
1515
1431
1357
1290
1229
1174
1123
1075
1036
996
958
926
895
866
838
813
789
767
746
726
707
68 8
671
655
640
625
611
598
585
572
561
550
Total
pressure
per
square
inch.
Lb.
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
Tempera
ture in
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees.
Fahr.
278- 4
279- 7
281-0
282- 3
283- 5
284- 7
285- 9
287- 1
288- 2
289- 3
290- 4
291- 6
292- 7
293- 8
294- 8
295- 9
296- 9
298 0
2990
300-0
300- 9
301- 9
302- 9
303- 9
304- 8
305- 7
306- 6
307- 5
308- 4
309- 3
310- 2
311- 1
312- 0
312- 8
313- 6
314- 5
315- 3
316- 1
316- 9
317- 8
318- 6
319- 4
320- 2
321- 0
321- 7
322- 5
323- 3
324- 1
Total
Heat in
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees from
32 degrees,
Fahr.
1166-3
1166- 7
1167- 1
1167-5
1167- 9
1168- 3
1168-6
1169- 0
1169-3
1169- 7
1170- 0
1170-4
1170- 7
1171- 1
1171-4
1171- 7
1172- 0
1172-3
1172-6
1172- 9
1173- 2
1173-5
1173- 8
1174- 1
1174-3
1174-6
1174- 9
1175- 2
1175-4
1175- 7
1176- 0
1176-3
1176-5
1176- 8
1177- 1
1177-4
1177-6
1177- 9
1178- 1
1178-4
1178-6
1178- 9
1179- 1
1179-3
1179-5
1179- 8
1180- 0
1180-3
Latent
Heat.
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees.
Density or
weight of
one cubic
foot.
Fahr.
918-1
917-2
916-3
915-4
914-5
913-6
912-8
912-0
911-2
910-4
909-6
908-8
908-0
907-2
906-4
905-6
904-9
904-2
903-5
902-8
902-1
901-4
900-8
900-3
899-6
898-9
898-2
897-5
896-8
896-1
895-5
894-9
894-3
893-7
893-1
892-5
892-0
891-4
890-8
890-2
889-6
889-0
888-5
887-9
887-3
886-8
886-3
885-8
Volume
of one
pound of
Steam.
Lb.
•1156
•1179
T202
•1224
•1246
•1269
•1291
•1314
•1336
•1364
T380
•1403
•1425
•1447
■1469
•1493
•1516
•1538
•1560
•1583
•1605
•1627
•1648
•1670
•1692
•1714
•1736
•1759
•1782
T804
T826
•1848
•1869
•1891
•1913
•1935
•1957
•1980
•2002
•2024
•2044
•2067
•2089
•2111
•2133
•2155
•2176
•2198
Cubic Feet
8-65
8-48
8-31
8-17
8-04
7-88
774
7-61
7-48
7-36
7-24
7T2
7-01
6-90
6-81
6-70
6-60
6-49
6-41
6-32
6-23
6T5
6-07
5-99
5-91
5-83
5-76
5-68
5-61
5-54
5-48
5-41
5-35
5-29
5-23
5-17
5-11
5-05
5-00
4-94
4-89
4-84
4-79
4-74
4-69
4-64
4-60
4-55
Relation
Volume,or
cubic feet
of Steam
from one
cubic foot
of Water,
Rel. Vol
539
529
518
509
500
491
482
474
466
458
451
444
437
430
424
417
411
405
399
393
388
383
378
373
368
363
359
353
349
345
341
337
333
329
325
321
318
314
311
308
305
301
298
295
292
289
286
283
571
Table of
the Pro¬
perties of
Saturated
Steam.
572
STEAM.
Properties
of Satu¬
rated
Steam.
Table of the Properties of Saturated Steam—(Continued.)
Total
pressure
per
square
inch.
Lb.
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
Tempera¬
ture in
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees.
Fahr.
324- 8
325- 6
326- 3
327 1
327- 9
328- 5
3291
329- 9
330- 6
331- 3
331- 9
332- 6
333- 3
334- 0
334- 6
335- 3
336- 0
336- 7
337- 4
338- 0
338- 6
339- 3
339- 9
340- 5
341- 1
341- 8
342- 4
3430
343- 6
344- 2
344- 8
345- 4
346- 0
346- 6
347- 2
347- 8
348- 3
348-9
Total
Heat in
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees from
32 degrees
Fahr.
1180- 5
1180-8
1181- 0
1181-2
1181- 4
1181-6
1181-8
11820
1182- 2
1182- 4
1182-6
1182-8
1183- 0
1183-3
1183-5
1183-7
1183- 9
1184- 1
1184-3
1184-5
1184-7
1184- 9
1185- 1
1185-3
1185-4
1185-6
1185- 8
1186- 0
1186-2
1186-4
1186-6
1186-8
1186- 9
1187- 1
1187-3
1187-5
1187-6
1187-8
Latent
Heat.
Fahren-,
heit de¬
grees.
Density or
weight of
one cubic
foot.
Fahr.
885-2
884-6
884-1
883-6
883-1
882-6
882-1
881-6
881-1
880-7
880-2
879-7
879-2
878-7
878-3
877-8
877-3
876-8
876-3
875-9
875-5
875 0
874-5
874-1
873-7
873-2
872-8
872-3
871-9
871-5
871-1
870-7
870-2
869-8
869-4
869-0
888-6
868-2
Lb.
•2219
•2241
•2263
•2285
•2307
•2329
•2351
•2373
•2393
•2414
•2435
•2456
•2477
•2499
•2521
•2543
•2564
•2586
•2607
•2628
•2649
•2652
•2674
•2696
•2738
•2759
•2780
•2801
•2822
•2845
•2867
•2889
•2911
•2933
•2955
•2977
•2999
•3020
Volume
of one
pound of
Steam.
Relation
Volume, or
cubic feet
of Steam
from one
cubic foot
of Water.
Cubic Feet
4-51
4-46
4-42
4-37
4-33
4-29
4-25
4-21
4-18
4-14
4-11
4-07
4-04
4-00
3-97
3-93
3-90
3-86
3-83
3-80
3-77
3-74
3-71
3-68
3-65
3-62
3-59
3-56
3-54
3-51
3-49
3-46
3-44
3-41
3-38
3-35
3-33
3-31
Rel. Vol.
281
278
275
272
270
267
265
262
260
257
255
253
251
249
247
245
243
241
239
237
235
233
231
229
227
225
224
222
221
219
217
215
214
212
211
209
208
206
Total
pressure
per
square
inch.
Lb.
134
135
135
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
155
160
165
170
175
180
185
190
195
200
210
220
230
240
250
260
270
280
290
300
Tempera¬
ture in
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees.
Fahr.
349- 5
350- 1
350- 6
351- 2
351- 8
352- 4
352- 9
353- 5
354- 0
354- 5
3550
355- 6
356- 1
356- 7
357- 2
357- 8
358- 3
3610
363-4
366-0
368-2
370-8
372-9
375-3
377-5
379-7
381-7
386-0
389-9
393-8
397-5
401-1
404'5
407-9
411-2
414-4
417-5
Total
Heat in
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees from
32 degrees,
Fahr.
1188-0
1188-2
1188-3
1188-5
1188-7
1188- 9
1189- 0
1189-2
1189-4
1189-6
1189-7
1189- 9
1190- 0
1190-2
1190-3
1190-5
1190- 7
1191- 5
1192- 2
1192- 9
1193- 7
1194- 4
1195- 1
1195- 8
1196- 5
1197- 2
1197-8
1199- 1
1200- 3
1201- 5
1202- 6
1203- 7
1204- 8
1205- 8
1206- 8
1207- 8
1208- 7
Latent
Heat.
Fahren¬
heit de¬
grees.
Density or
weight of
one cubic
foot.
Fahr.
867-8
867-4
867-0
866-6
866-2
865-8
865-4
865-0
864-6
864-2
8639
863-5
863-1
862-7
862-3
861-9
861-5
859-7
857-9
856-2
854-5
852-9
851-3
849-6
848-0
846-5
845-0
841-9
839-2
836-4
833-8
831-2
828-8
826-4
824-1
821-8
819-6
Lb.
•3040
•3060
•3080
•3101
3121
•3142
•3162
•3184
•3206
•3228
•3250
•3273
•3294
•3315
•3336
•3357
•3377
•3484
•3590
•3695
•3798
•3899
•4009
•4117
•4222
•4327
•4431
•4634
•4842
•5052
•5248
•5464
•5669
•5868
•6081
•6273
•6486.
Volume
of one
pound of
Steam.
Relation
Volume, or
cubic feet
of Steam
from one
cubic foot
of Water.
Cubic Feet
3-29
3-27
3-25
3-22
3-20
3-18
316
314
3-12
310
3-08
306
3-04
3-02
3-00
2-98
2-96
2-87
2-79
2-71
2-63
2-56
2-49
2-43
2-37
2-31
2-26
2-16
2-06
1-98
1-90
1-83
1-76
1-70
1-64
1-59
1-54
Rel. Vol.
205
203
202
200
199
198
197
195
194
193
192
190
189
188
187
186
184
179
174
169
164
159
155
151
148
144
141
135
129
123
119
114
110
106
102
99
96
Properties
of Satu¬
rated
Steam.
Mr William Fairbairn and Mr Thomas Tate read a
paper at the meeting of the British Association for the ad¬
vancement of science in September 1859, containing some
approximate results of experiments undertaken by them,
for the purpose of determining the law of the density of
steam and other condensable vapours, and of testing the
deductions from the dynamic theory of heat of Professor
Rankine and others, with respect to that subject. The
new feature of the experiments consists in the use of the
“ saturation-guage,” to aid in determining with precision
the point of saturation of steam. Suppose two globes,
called A and B, to be connected by a syphon tube, con¬
taining mercury, and the whole to be immersed in a bath,
in which they can be raised to any required temperature.
If an absolute vacuum be created in each globe, and 20
grains of water be introduced into A, and 30 or 40 grains
into B; then, if the temperature be slowly and uniformly
raised around the globes, the water within them will be
gradually evaporated, and filled with steam of a density in¬
creasing with the temperature, until the whole of the water
in A is converted into steam, when instantly the line of the
mercury, heretofore undisturbed, will rise towards the globe
A. The disturbance of level thus occasioned constitutes
the saturation-test; it is caused by the change of the steam
in A, from the condition of saturation to that of superheat¬
ing, whilst that in B, which contains a surplus of water,
must necessarily continue in the state of saturation, and
there is no longer an equilibrium of pressure. The volume
of the steam in A is known, and the temperature in the
bath at the instant of the disturbance of the mercury is that
of saturation. The following is a selection of temperatures
and relative volumes of saturated steam approximately re¬
duced from the experiments, with the corresponding vo¬
lumes reckoned from the foregoing table of the properties
of saturated steam :—
Temperature.
244°
245
257
262
268
270
283
Relative Vo¬
lume by Expe¬
riment.
896
890
751
684
633
604
490
Relative Vo¬
lume by tbe
Formula.
935
917
753
695
632
613
504
Difference
by Experi¬
ment.
-39
-27
- 2
-11
+ 1
- 9
-14
The nearness of the experimental results to those theo¬
retically established is very remarkable. The differences,
as Professor Rankine suggests, may arise from a difference
in the value assumed for the volume of water.
The reader is referred to the end of the article Steam-
Engine for a list of references to works on steam. The
first chapter of this article, it should be stated, is abridged
from the article on Steam in the previous edition of the
Encyclopaedia Britannica. (d. k. C.)
573
History
and De¬
scriptive
Account.
—
STEAM-ENGINE.
PART I.—HISTORY AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OP THE STEAM-ENGINE.
SECTION I.
It appears highly probable that the ancients knew more of
the phenomena of steam than has been generally admitted;
and one evident cause of this mistake is, that no specific
term equivalent to the word steam was generally used
by them ; and water, when heated, was said to be con¬
verted into air. Hero of Alexandria, in his Pneumatics,
written more than 120 years before the Christian era, col¬
lected the science and inventions of the ancients, along
with some of his own, into a systematic treatise. His book
commences with a lucid dissertation on the properties of
air as a medium for the communication of pressure and
motion, and especially upon the nature and effects of a
vacuum, subjects to be thoroughly understood by all who
would master the theory of the steam-engine.
The following description of the manner in which the
force of steam issuing from a boiler may be applied to sup¬
port a weight is given in the Pneumatics :—“ A boiler
(fig. 1) perforated on the top is placed on the fire. From the
perforation there proceeds a tube on whose extremity is
fixed a hollow hemisphere perforated in like manner. If
then we place a light ball in the hemispherical cup, it wdll
follow that the vapour rising up from the boiler through the
tube will support the sphere, and it will appeal to dance.”
His;. 1. Rig. 2.
There is another apparatus in the Pneumatics for pro¬
ducing a.revolving motion by the action of steam from a
boiler, issuing through a couple of bent arms, from orifices
at their extremities (fig. 2); the arms being free to revolve
horizontally, do so in obedience to the action of the escap¬
ing jets of steam.
The same apparatus, on similar principles, is next applied
by Hero to the construction of a machine still more cu¬
rious. The agent mentioned in this case is rarified air,
although the action is of precisely the same nature. Here
the science of the philosopher appears to have been de¬
graded to assist the priesthood in deceiving the populace
by the resemblance of miraculous interference. “ A fire
having been kindled upon an altar, living figures will ap¬
pear to lead a choral dance, even although the altar itself
be of transparent glass or horn. Through the epipyrus a
pipe is to be let down to the base of the altar, where it is
to revolve on an iron pin, the other end being passed
through a tubular fitting attached to the epipyrus. And
this pipe is to have other little cross-pipes attached to it,
and perforated (fig. 3), so as to communicate with it (which
Rig. 3.
are to radiate opposite to one another around it), and turned
alternately in opposite directions in the ends. There shall
likewise be a drum attached to it, upon which the figures
of the dance are to be set. Then by the action of the
kindled fire, the air, being warmed, will proceed into the
pipe, and from its being driven out through the bent tubes
in the base of the altar, will turn round the pipe and its
drum.”
There is considerable reason to suppose that, to their
knowledge of the elements of machinery, the Egyptians
added some acquaintance with the power of steam, applied
however, only to the degraded service of superstition. The
statue of Memnon is said to have emitted sounds which
Pausanias compares to those produced by the snapping of
the strings of a harp. Strabo expressly states that he
heard them ; and Philostratus states, that when the sun
shone strongly on the statue, sounds issued from its mouth
similar to those of a stringed instrument.
The Romans appear to have done little for the mechani¬
cal arts, and nothing for the improvement of steam appara¬
tus. It was not until the dawn of knowledge succeeded
the darkness of the middle ages, that the light reflected
from the works of Hero and the older mechanicians, re¬
kindled the flame of mechanical invention. The works of
Archimedes and of Hero were read with great avidity, and
formed some of the most popular productions of the young
art of printing.
Giambattista Della Porta, an Italian, was one of the
ablest expositors of the principles of pneumatics. In his
work published at Naples in 1601, he describes a beautiful
and simple expedient designed for determining the philoso¬
phical question, Plow much aqueous vapour is formed by
a given quantity of water ? And it shows an acquaintance
with the fact, that water heated by fire is converted into
History
and De¬
scriptive
Account.
STEAM-ENGINE.
574
History aqueous air, with sufficient force to raise water above its
and De- ]|evel and form a running stream.
scriptive Salomon de Caus, a French engineer, published at Frank-
Account. fort^ jn 10] 5, s0rne account of his works, constructed for the
Gratification of “ gentille curiosite,” in which he states that
The violence with which water is dissolved into air by means
of fire is very great, and that a ball of copper containing
water, if placed in a fire, would certainly burst. He after¬
wards shows how a jet of water may be made to rise above
its level, and play in the air by means of fire; a copper
ball A (fig. 4) has an orifice D, at which water is poured
in, and it is then closed with a stop-cock. Another tube
bc is closely fitted to the same ball, but passes down near
to the bottom, where it is open in
the water: the pipe terminates
above in an orifice for a small jet
of water, which is regulated by a
stop-cock. In fact, the apparatus
is precisely that which Hero uses
for raising a jet of water, but with¬
out the aid of heat, when he forces
air above the water, till it raises a
jet of water by its pressure. Of
course the heat produces the same
elastic force in De Caus’s machine
as the compression of air does in
Hero.
The direct emission of steam from an orifice of the
boiler, which had been used by Hero to sustain the ball in
the air, was applied by Branca, an Italian architect and
engineer, to impress a revolving motion on the vanes of a
wheel like a common mill-wheel, and this communicating
with a series of toothed wheels gave motion to a series of
pestles in mortars. This and many other machines were
published by him at Rome in 1629. This period appears
to have teemed with curiosities of mechanical invention :—
Perpetual motions were very common ; wings for enabling
men to fly in the air, mechanical chariots for a similar pur¬
pose, conveyances to the moon, and engines for making
continual and chea]3 music by mills or by fire, for rocking
of cradles and turning of spits, were favourite subjects of
design ; and many of these curious contrivances, without
serving any definite purpose, form elegant and curious
pieces of apparatus.
The Marquis of Worcester invented and constructed the
first actual steam-engine, announced in the Century of In¬
ventions in 1663 ; none of the contrivances before his time
were provided with means to make their action continuous.
The instrument of De Caus had merely the power of
emptying itself of the boiling-water with which it was
filled; the engine of Worcester was provided with two
vessels to act successively and continuously, in raising
water. “ Having found a way to make my vessels so that
they are straightened by the force within them, and the
one to fill after the other, I have seen the water run like a
constant fountain, 40 feet high. One vessel of water rari-
fied by fire driveth up 40 of cold water ; and a man that
attends the work is but to turn two cocks, that one vessel
of water being consumed, another begins to force and refill
with cold water, and so successively.” The Marquis enu¬
merates many important practical uses to which his engine
might be applied, and many of them it certainly would have
been competent to compass. Lord Worcester’s “ Water-
commanding Engine” was the first machine moved by fire
of efficacy and permanence: he actually erected one of his
engines of about 2-horse power on the banks of the
Thames, at Vauxhall, and it was employed in supplying
the town with water. Not that any great merit is to be
attached even to that contrivance, for it is deducible with¬
out any violent stretch of the imagination from the schemes
of Hero; and there is no doubt, as Mr Bourne suggests,
that the ancients would have realized an effectual steam- History
engine, if they only had possessed mines that required to and De-
be drained, and coal to bestow on such a purpose. scriptive
The next forward step of invention was the accomplish- Account'
ment of a vacuum by the agency of steam, by Captain v*—'
Thomas Savery, who exhibited a model of his engine to the
Royal Society in 1669. The Marquis’s engine appears to
have been placed on or below the level of the water to be
raised, and, his vessels being filled, their contents were
raised by the elastic force only of the steam; Savery, on
the other hand, erected his engine at a height of nearly 30
feet above the level of the water. A large close vessel
was filled with steam ; this steam was reconverted, by cool¬
ing the outside of the vessel, into water, leaving the large
space it had formerly occupied vacuous ; into this vacuum
water was raised, as into the vacuum of a common sucking-
pump, by atmospheric pressure, and so within the limit
of atmospheric pressure, raised 28 or 30 feet. After this
was accomplished, the water was further raised by the
elastic force of the steam, just as in the engine of the Mar¬
quis of Worcester. But the improve¬
ment was great, and led to the general
use of steam as a means of raising water.
Fig. 5 represents this engine as applied
to draw water from deep mines. It is
placed under ground, on a platform from
20 to 30 feet above the level of the water
at A. The chimney ascends in the shaft
of the mine along with a pipe, through
which the water is forced to the surface.
The engine consisted of two boilers, in
which the necessary steam was generated,
and two receivers with valves. The pro¬
cess of pumping was effected by admit¬
ting steam into one of the receivers a,
and then cutting off the connection with
the boiler. The steam was suddenly
condensed by means of a jet of cold
water, which, forming a vacuum, the
water to be lifted rushed up the pipe
6, to refill the receiver. Steam was then
admitted from the boiler to press upon
the water in the receiver, and all con¬
nection with b being cut off by a valve,
the water was forced up the pipe c, and
discharged into the trough d. The steam
in the receiver a, being again condensed,
the process was repeated; and thus by
the alternate action of two receivers, a
continuous stream was maintained.
One of the first uses of Savery’s
engine, proposed by himself, was to raise
water to fall on a mill-wheel, turning
machinery as by a common fall of water.
Several engines were erected by a
Mr Joshua Rigley at Manchester, and
throughout Lancashire, to impel the ma¬
chinery of some of the earliest cotton
mills and manufactories of the district.
One was erected at St Pancras, London,
at the manufactory of a Mr Kier, where
it long continued to turn lathes, &c.
Dr Denis Papin, in 1690, proposed a
scheme for producing a vacuum under a
piston,—first of all by gunpowder, and
afterwards by steam. He had a cylin¬
der A B C D (fig. 6), containing a piston Fig. 5.
p, below which he placed a fire, and so as to generate steam
from a little water in the bottom of the cylinder. This
steam raised the piston, which was secured in its elevated
position by a catch; then the fire was removed, the steam
STEAM-ENGINE.
575
History
and De¬
scriptive
Account.
condensed, and the piston was released and forced down
by the pressure of the atmosphere. This plan,
though crude, contained the earliest suggestion
, of a vacuum under a piston by the agency of
steam.
But Papin halted there. His proposed modes
of procuring a vacuum by removing the fire
was a step in retrogression from Savery’s prac¬
tice, which was to pour water over the receiver,
and operate by surface condensation. In Sa¬
very’s engine, however, there was the waste of
steam consumed in re-heating the receivers
and the upper stratum of water, every time it
was admitted for the purpose of forcing up the
water. It was reserved for Newcomen and
Cawley of Hartford to combine the good points Fig. 6.
of Savery and Papin:—a separate boiler and furnace,
and a separate cylinder and piston, with a distinct water-
pump connected with the piston through the medium of
a beam; a means of rapid condensation by injecting
water into the cylinder in direct contact with the steam
to be condensed, and a system of self-acting valves, which
were opened and closed by the reciprocations of the beam,
without the usual agency of an attendant. The history
of the discovery of the two last-named features is thus
concisely given by Dr Desaguliers:—“ They were sur¬
prised to see the engine go several strokes and very quick
together, when after a search they found a hole in the
piston which let the cold w^ater in to condense the steam in
the inside of the cylinder, whereas before they had always
done it on the outside. They used before to work with a
buoy in the cylinder enclosed in a pipe, which buoy rose
when the steam was strong, and opened the injection-pipe
and made a stroke, whereby they were capable of only
giving six, eight, or ten strokes in a minute, till a boy
named Humphrey Potter, who attended the engine, added
what he called a scoggan, by which the beam of the engine
always opened and shut its own valves, and then it would
go (entirely without the attendance of a man) fifteen or six¬
teen strokes in a minute. But this being perplexed with
catches and strings, Mr Henry Beighton, in an engine he
had built at Newcastle-on-Tyne in 1788, took them all
away, the beam itself supplying all much better.” Thus,
for more than half a century, the engine remained in
general use without any material change.
Newcomen, Potter, and Beighton had rendered the at¬
mospheric steam-engine an independent self-acting mecha¬
nical power of so great perfection in its principle of action,
and its minor details, as to be very generally introduced as
a substitute for the power of animals in draining mines and
collieries, and to confer very great advantages in those im¬
portant and primary sources of national industry and wealth.
The saving of money from this change was so great as to
be continually opening up new avenues of mining enter-
prize, by the rapid progress of which the capabilities of the
engine were soon put to the severest trial. The cylinders,
which had been originally of 12 and 16 inches diameter,
were gradually increased to 60 inches. Along with this
dimension, the other parts required to be increased in a
still higher proportion ; and at last the structure became so
gigantic as to demand an amount of science and practical
skill which was rare in that period. The man suited to the
emergency at last arose in the father of civil engineering,
the justly celebrated Smeaton, who brought to bear on this
subject endowments and accomplishments seldom united.
He conferred upon the atmospheric steam-engine all the
extent and variety of application of which it w’as capable,
and all the perfection of proportion and execution which the
state of the mechanical arts could then afford. The most
magnificent of Smeaton’s works in this department is his
great Chasewater engine, of which the details are also given
in his reports, and which abound in ingenious contrivances History
and judicious arrangement. This engine was of 150 horse- and De¬
power, turning out 880 hogsheads of water per hour, by scriptive
the heat of 16^ bushels of coal. The cylinder A b, fig. 7, vAccount'
is 72 inches in diameter, the stroke 10 feet 6 inches. The
great lever or beam of the engine d d consists of twenty
large bulks of timber, the four nearest the centre being
each a foot square, and the whole firmly joggled together
with heart of oak, and bolted with iron, forming a very ele¬
gant but ponderous beam. The beams F Fupon which the
cylinder rests are kept in their place by being entered into
the side-walls of the house, and are joggled and framed to¬
gether similarly to the great lever; G is the boiler, H the
furnace, I b the steam-pipe, j the injection-pipe, K the
injection cistern, fed by a pump l, which is wrought by the
great lever, m the waste-pipe for the condensed steam. On
the left edge of the figure is the spear or rod of the great
draining-pump, wrought by the engine; F p is the plug-
tree, suspended from the main beam and carrying plugs,
which in their upward and downward progress act on the
levers which open and shut the regulator and injection-
cocks. The date of this engine is 1775. Its working
gear, which is very simple and good, is represented on a
larger scale in fig. 8, for those who are conscientious
enough to study it.
A collateral scintillation of invention was exhibited by
Jacob Leupold in 1725, who inverted the ordinary New¬
comen’s engine, causing the engine to do its work against
the atmosphere. He introduced comparatively high pres¬
sure steam below a piston, and raised it against the pressure
of the atmosphere, plus the active resistance of the column
of water forced up by a pump. His machine (figs. 9 and
10) was a true water-pumping high-pressure steam-engine,
and might be efficiently used without any alteration at the
present day, only the modern machines do the work with
less fuel. Two pumps ty for raising water are directly
worked by steam by connecting the handles g H of these
576
History
and De¬
scriptive
Account.
STEAM-ENGINE.
pumps with the pistons of two high-pressure cylinders c d
in such a manner that, when the pistons are raised by the
steam, the water is forced up in the pump-pipe k. In fig.
9, at A c, the steam is entering the cylinder c, and push-
Figs. 9 and 10.
ing up the end of the lever G, so as to force the water ;
and in fig. 10 the steam is shown entering the cylinder d
to work it. This change is effected by turning round the
disc a f into the position which reverses the passages.
Thus, while the steam is entering the cylinder c (fig. 9)
through ac, the steam from the cylinder d is escaping
through e f into the open air ; and in fig. 10 the steam is
passing into the cylinder D through ae, and out of the
cylinder c through C f. The action of this four-way
stop-cock is very simple and beautiful, and deserves to be
carefully studied. By continually turning it in one direc¬
tion, communications are simultaneously effected between
the boiler and each of the cylinders alternately, and be¬
tween each cylinder and the open air.
Hitherto the fire-engine, even in Smeaton’s hands, was
so imperfect, that it wasted a large quantity of fuel and of
steam in doing what was useless, viz., heating the cylinder,
which was cooled alternately in each stroke by the cold
water injected into it. In Long Benton colliery engine,
out of 63 cubic feet of steam 32 were thus wasted, and History
the remaining 31 feet alone performed useful work. There and De-
remained, therefore, one-half of the power of the steam scriptive
and expense of the fuel to be saved by future improve- vAccount‘
ments, provided the useless heating and cooling of the
cylinder could be avoided. The vacuum formed below the
cylinder was also far from being perfect. In this state
James Watt found the atmospheric fire-engine in the
hands of Smeaton, and produced from it the pure steam-
engine, which he left to us in its present state of high im¬
provement. He was the man who turned the scale of
expense in favour of the fire-engine, when it was a more
costly power than horses, except when fuel was extremely
cheap. In his hands it ceased to be an atmospheric
engine, and became wholly a steam-engine, capable of
being applied to any purpose, on a much larger scale, and
at much less expense than the power of horses. He re¬
flected that, “ in order to make the best use of the steam,
it was necessary, first, that the cylinder should be maintained
always as hot as the steam which entered it; and secondly,
that when the steam was condensed, the water of which it
was composed, and the injection itself, should be cooled
down to 100°, or lower where that was possible.” The
means of accomplishing these objects occurred to Mr Watt
in 1765 :—The separate condenser, distinct from but in
connection with the steam-cylinder, into which the steam
from the cylinder would flow, and in which all the opera¬
tions of condensation could be performed by surrounding
it with cold water, or by injection, or both. The water
which would necessarily accumulate in the condenser,
Mr Watt proposed to remove by means of a pump. “ It
next occurred to me,” says Mr Watt, “that the mouth of
the cylinder, being open, the air which entered to act on
the piston would cool the cylinder, and condense some
steam on again filling it. I therefore proposed to put an
air-tight cover upon the cylinder, with a hole and stuffing-
box for the piston rod to slide through, and to admit steam
above the piston to act upon it instead of the atmosphere.
There still remained another source of the destruction of
steam, the cooling of the cylinder by the external air,
which would produce an internal condensation whenever
steam entered it, and which would be repeated every
stroke. This I proposed to remedy by an external
cylinder containing steam, surrounded by another of wood,
or of some other substance which would conduct heat
slowly.
“ When once the idea of the separate condensation was
started, all these improvements followed as corollaries in
quick succession ; so that, in the course of one or two
days, the invention was thus far complete in my mind, and
I immediately set about an experiment to verify it practi¬
cally. I took a large brass syringe A, If inches diameter
and 10 inches long, made a cover and bottom to it of tin¬
plate, with a pipe s to convey steam to both ends of the
cylinder from the boiler; another pipe E to convey steam
from the upper end to the condenser (for to save apparatus
I inverted the cylinder). I drilled a hole longitudinally
through the axis of the stem of p the piston, and fixed a
valve at its lower end, to permit the water which was pro¬
duced by the condensed steam on first filling the cylinder
to issue. The condenser used upon this occasion consisted
of two pipes a 5, cd of thin tin-plate, 10 or 12 inches
long and about •Jth-inch diameter, standing perpendicular
and communicating at top with a short horizontal pipe h of
large diameter, having an aperture on its upper side which
was shut by a valve opening upwards. These pipes were
joined at bottom to another perpendicular pipe /> of about
an inch diameter, which served for the air and water pump,
and both the condensing pipes and the air-pump were
placed in a small cistern c filled with cold water.
“ The steam-pipe was adjusted to a small boiler b.
STEAM-ENGINE.
History When steam was produced it was admitted into the
and De- cylinder, and soon issued through the perforation of the
scriptive
Account.
577
Fig. 12.
in re-heating it, which was unavoidable in Newcomen’s History
engine. We have, then, the boiler or generator, with its and De¬
appendages ; the cylinder or applicator, with its append- scriptive
ages ; and the refrigerator or condenser, with its append- A0001111**
ages—the function to be discharged by the first of these
being altogether the reverse of the last; the first producing
steam by heat from water, the last producing water from
steam by cooling. Papin’s scheme was possible but im¬
practicable ; Newcomen’s system was practicable but
wasteful; Watt’s system was practical, economical, and
complete.
Mr Watt’s first engines are in general form represented
by fig. 13, in which a represents the cylinder of his earlier
rod, and at the valve of the condenser. When it was
judged that the air was expelled, the steam-cock was shut,
and the air-pump piston-rod was drawn up, which leaving
the small pipes of the condenser in a state of vacuum, the
steam entered them and was condensed. The piston of
the cylinder immediately arose, and lifted a weight of
about 18 lbs. which was hung to the lower end of the
piston-rod. The exhaustion-cock was shut, the steam was
re-admitted into the cylinder, and the operation was re¬
peated ; the quantity of steam consumed, and the weights
it could raise were observed ; and excepting the non-appli¬
cation of the steam case and external covering, the inven¬
tion was complete in so far as regarded the savings of
steam and fuel. A large model with an outer cylinder and
wooden case (fig. 12) was immediately constructed, and the
experiments made with it served
to verify the expectations I had
formed, and to place the advan¬
tage of the invention beyond
the reach of doubt.” Mr Watt
patented his inventions in the
steam-engine in 1768.
In recapitulation, it appears
that the invention of the steam-
engine as a useful and permanent
machine originated with the
Marquis of Worcester, that he
employed high-pressed steam in
close vessels pressing directly
upon water contained in them, and forcing it to consider¬
able elevations above the level of the engine. Second,
Captain Savery created a vacuum within the vessels by
means of cold water applied externally, so as to lift the
water from below tbe level of the engine, as well as to
force it above the level. Third, Papin proposed the use
of a cylinder and piston separate and distinct from but
connected with the work to be done, but showed no prac¬
ticable application of the proposal. Fourth, Newcomen
and Cawley successfully embodied Papin’s idea of the
independent cylinder and piston connected by a beam to
the pumps for raising water, and they greatly accelerated
the action and increased the efficiency of the machine by
internal condensation, or the injection of cold water within
the cylinder. Fifth, James Watt added the separate con¬
denser—a chamber distinct from but auxiliary to the work¬
ing cylinder, in which internal condensation was effected
without necessarily cooling the cylinder and wasting steam
VOE. XX.
engine, B the boiler, and c the condenser, each with its
various appendages. The appendages of the boiler b are,
of course/, the furnace; gg small pipes for showing the
height of the water in the boiler; h a pipe for supplying
the boiler with water as it passes off in the form of steam;
s s a pipe for conveying the steam to the cylinder. The
appendages of the cylinder are—p the piston, fitting
accurately the inside of the cylinder, and surrounded with
hemp-packing, soaked with tallow and oil, so as to be steam-
tight ; the jacket or casing c c c c, which prevents the cold
air of the atmosphere from entering into and cooling the
cylinder at the expense of afterwards heating it by the
steam ; and instead of allowing such air to enter at the top
of the cylinder A and press down the piston, as in New¬
comen’s engine, the hot steam is substituted, which, being
of an elasticity equal to the force of the atmosphere,
presses it towards the bottom of the cylinder. On this
being accomplished, the handle of the valve vl is raised so
as to admit the steam below as well as above the piston,
which equilibrium of upward and downward pressure
allows the piston again to rise, in consequence of a counter
weight connected with the top of the piston-rod r, and this
opening, of what is called the steam-valve vl, continues
until the piston again reaches the top of the cylinder, when
it is closed. The eduction valve v2, which is at that
moment opened, permits the steam to escape suddenly into
the condenser, when it becomes water, and leaves the
space below the cylinder vacuous, so as to give free space
for the piston to be carried down into the cylinder by the
pressure of the steam upon the top of the piston. These,
the casing, piston, piston-rod, steam-valve, eduction-valve,
and communicating passages are appendages of the second
great member of the machine, viz., the cylinder, by which
the power of the steam is applied to give the required
motion to whatever solid machinery may be placed in con¬
nection with the piston-rod. The appendages of the con¬
denser c of Mr Watt are as follows:—First of all, a
large cistern w of cold water is provided, and iurnished
continually with fresh supplies of cold water either from a
4 D
578
History
and De-
srriptive
Account.
STEAM-ENGINE.
running stream or by means of a pump in or wrought by
the engine itself; in this is placed the condensing chamber
c x x, wholly surrounded by cold water, but perfectly empty,
excepting that a small jet of cold water from the exterior
is admitted through a regulated aperture to play in the in¬
side, by which injection it has always been observed that
the condensation of the steam is more efficient than when
a casing of metal intervenes between the cold water and
the steam. The eduction-pipe eee conducts the steam out
of the cylinder by the valve v2 into the condenser x x,
where it is reduced back into the water from which it had
been originally generated. Now, it must be obvious on a
little consideration, that the water which is injected into
the condenser must rapidly accumulate there, becoming at
the same time warmed by mixing with the steam, and so
would impede the progress of condensation by ultimately
filling up the interior of the condensing chamber, which
should be kept vacuous; and further, that the steam itself,
becoming reconverted into water, would soon accumulate
in the condenser and choke it up. Hence a principal
appendage of the condenser is a large pump, which is
essential to its long-continued efficient action, and which
withdraws a portion of the accumulated warm water from
the interior of the condenser, and keeps it vacuous ; and
because there is generally air in the water, and because,
also, air is very apt to insinuate itself by many chinks or
crevices into the condenser, this clearing pump must be
capable of pumping out air as well as water. This ap¬
pendage of the condenser, represented in the preceding
figure by y y, is generally termed the “air-pump,” a name
which but imperfectly expresses its functions.
Fire being placed under the boiler, its heat, communi¬
cated to the water, rapidly expands that water, and rarifies
it into steam, by the addition of more than five times the
heat which would raise its temperature from the freezing
to the boiling point. This combination of heat and water,
forming the steam, rushes along the steam-pipe into the
cylinder casing, and is admitted into the interior of the
machine, filling all its chambers and pipes with steam;
but that portion of the steam which is in communication
with the condenser, being instantly chilled by the jet of
cold water and the cold sides of the vessels in the cold
well, is condensed, and then the valve v2 being closed so
as to admit no more steam into the condenser, and the
valve t?1 being closed so as to admit no more steam into
the lower part of the cylinder below the piston, there re¬
mains the elastic force of the steam above pressing it to¬
wards the bottom of the cylinder with a force proportioned
to the pressure of the steam and the extent of the cylinder.
Thus, a moving power is generated in the cylinder by the
steam which may be conveyed through the piston-rod r,
and applied through various mechanism of application to
the performance of the required work. The steam which
has thus pressed down the piston is now admitted below to
neutralize the force of that which remains ; and having
thus done its duty, is again annihilated by the opening of
the communication into the condenser, into which it rushes ;
and being almost instantly deprived of the heat which gave
it power and magnitude, there remains nothing except the
few spoonfuls of water from which all that volume of steam
had arisen, now lying inert at the bottom of the cylinder.
This dead water is not yet cold. It is evident that in tfie
primary generation of steam in the boiler, the supply of
water must be rapidly diminished by this boiling off, and
this water must somehow be supplied. Now, here lies an
opportunity for economy; this waste, instead of being sup¬
plied by cold water, may be better replenished with the
water of the condenser, which is highly heated in condens¬
ing the steam from the cylinder.
Mr Watt’s engine was first' used as a substitute for the
engine of Newcomen in pumping up water or draining
mines. In 1788 it had attained the form represented in History
fig. 14, as placed within the walls of a building, the ante- an<! D«-
rior portion of which is omitted, to show the machine. On ^nPtiv®
the left stands the boiler outside the building; and on the v CC0UD ^
right also outside the house, is the large pump, by which
the water is raised and the work of the engine performed.
Nearly in the middle stands the cylinder, with its append¬
ages, and below these are the well and condensing appa¬
ratus.
Beginning with the apparatus for generating steam. It
is the boiler of what is called the wagon shape, set in a
furnace of brickwork immediately over the fire, which rests
on the fire-bars at p, over a deep ash-pit; the flame passes
under the concave bottom of the boiler to the further end,
and there, instead of proceeding at once up the chimney,
returns by o on the left side of the boiler, through the
brick channel or flue, giving out additional heat to the
water, and after passing across the front of the boiler, pro¬
ceeds along the right hand flue o in the chimney. The
draught of the chimney is regulated by the damper r,
which is lowered into the flue or raised out of it in any
degree by the attendant, and so permits the gases to rush with
greater or less ease up the chimney. A tube t, regulated
by a stop-cock, comes from a small pump u, on the right
hand side of the cylinder, which raises the warm water dis¬
charged by the air-pump, and sends it into the boiler, so
as to replenish its waste ; this pipe and pump being gene¬
rally named the feed-pipe and tube. The two little tubes
proceeding from the water in the boiler are open at both
ends, and have external stop-cocks, which are always shut,
except when the attendant wishes to ascertain the height
of the water in the boiler. He then opens these guage-
cocks, and observing whether water or steam issues from
them, forms his judgment accordingly. F is the steam-pipe
which carries the steam from the boiler to the cylinder.
The second great member of the machine, the working-
cylinder A, is placed in the engine-house. It contains the
moving piston b, which communicates the force impressed
on it by the steam, through the piston-rod c, and the chain
f to the end of the great lever or working-beam f a e,
which is forced up and down around the fixed centre or
iron gudgeon &, and so raises or depresses the other end of
the lever on the right hand side of the figure, and thus
STEAM-ENGINE.
History gives the required motion to hj the piston and rods in the
and De- barrel of the great pump, in which the work of raising
scriptive Water to a height or from a mine is the useful labour or
Account.^ (juty ^ performed by the engine. Returning to the
~rr'/ cylinder at A, we have now to examine the mechanism by
which the steam is admitted alternately above and below
the piston, through the openings or ports which may be
observed on the right hand side of the cylinder at top and
bottom, f is the steam-pipe which brings steam from the
boiler to the top of the valve-passages, and the pipe I con¬
ducts it down to the bottom valves and port at K, and the
pipe J forming the eduction-pipe, conducts the steam into
the refrigerating apparatus, where it is finally condensed.
In commencing to work the machine, the duty of the at¬
tendant is to allow the steam to pass freely into all the
pipes, passages, and ports F, G, I, j, &c., filling the cylinder
a, the condenser m, and passing out at an aperture O,
closed by a valve, called the blow-off valve, by means of
which operation the whole of the parts being filled with
steam, are rendered vacuous from air, and this preparatory
process is called blowing through. At G is a steam nozzle
and valve, or regulator, which allows the steam to enter
the cylinder at the upper part whenever it is opened, by
raising the metallic cover or valve from the opening of the
nozzle immediately below, which it exactly fits. At K is
a similar contrivance, called the equilibrium valve and
nozzle, which admits steam through the pipe r into the
bottom part of the cylinder, and the third, or exhaustion
valve and nozzle or aperture, allows the final egress of the
steam into the condenser. After the engine has been
wholly filled with steam, the piston b, being at the top of
the cylinder, the injection-cock N is suddenly opened, and
the cold jet of water playing amongst the steam condenses
it instantaneously, forming a vacuum into which the steam
from the cylinder instantly rushes, and is in like manner
annihilated, leaving the cylinder below the piston equally
vacuous; and, of course, the steam from the boiler, on
being admitted by the valve G to the upper side of the
piston, instantly presses it down into the vacuum below
with a force proportional to the perfection of that vacuum
and to the pressure of the steam. Thus, the engine makes
its first stroke, and raises the water of the great pump on
the right of the figure, and the weight of the chain, rod,
and bucket, and also a counterpoise A, added for restoring
the beam to its former position, which it does in the fol¬
lowing manner. The equilibrium valve K is opened, and
the steam getting admission below the piston, as well as
above it, ceases to urge it in either direction, and being
thus in equilibrio, the piston would remain passively in its
place at the bottom of the cylinder; but the counterpoise
A, and the weight of the pump, rods, and bucket in the
large pump on the outside, draw down the outer end of the
great lever or working-beam/ a e, and so raise the anterior
end / and the piston B to the top of the cylinder. The
equilibrium valve is then closed at k, and the eduction-
valve L is opened, so as to allow the steam below the piston
to rush down into the condenser and leave a vacuum
under the piston, into which it is
immediately forced down by the pres¬
sure of the steam above A, as at
first, and raising water at the other
end of the beam through a second
stroke ; and thus, by the continual
opening and shutting of the valves
by the attendant, the engine per¬
forms its work. But we have still
to consider the mechanism by which
the machine shuts and opens its
own valves; for this purpose we
have given in fig. 15 two separate Tig 15.
and enlarged draw ings of one cf the valves and its working
gear; / ? / is a part of the air-pump rod, formed of wood,
called the plug-frame or plug-tree, on which are two pro¬
jecting plugs of wood to work the upper and lower valves.
One of these plugs is seen at i. As the plugtree moves up
and down, the plugs strike the handles or working gear
of the valves, and open or shut them at the proper instant.
1 he valve d e is called a conical valve, because the small
cover d which closes the opening of the nozzle is slightly
tapered downwards, so as the more readily to fit its seat,
from which it is lifted by a small-toothed rack and pinion
c, moved by a spindle from without, and communicating
by rods with the valve gear at r, or at zand y in figure 14.
W hen the plug frame l i l descends, the valve D is closed
by the plug ?, and the valve K is shut, and the valve L in
fig. 14 opened by the plug y.
Returning to figure 14, where the condensing apparatus
and its appendages are placed almost immediately under
the cylinder, and to the right of it. The eduction-pipe J
conducts the steam into the condensing chamber M, which
is in the middle of the cold well, wholly surrounded by
cold water, and through the regulated aperture N a jet of
cold w ater, pressed in by the atmosphere, is allowed to play
in the inside of it amongst the steam, p the air-pump is
also placed in the cold well, surrounded by water; Q the
piston or bucket of the air-pump, is worked up and down
by the piston-rod Q Y z ^ from the great lever. The valve
K closes when the piston descends, and opens on its ascent,
allowing water and air to pass into the air-pump, but pre¬
venting their return; and the upper valve of the air-pump
S allows the escape of water and air outwards, but prevents
their return ; this valve s leads to the hot well T, from which
the feed-pump u supplies water for the boiler.
The great advantage of Mr Watt’s form consists in
avoiding the excessive waste of steam formerly occasioned
by condensing in the cylinder itself. The cylinder now is
always hot, and therefore perfectly dry. By the time Mr
Watt had completed these improvements, his experiments
on steam had given him a pretty accurate knowledge of its
density ; and he found that the quantity of steam employed
did not much exceed what would fill the cylinder, so that
very little was unavoidably wasted. But before he could
bring the engine to this degree of perfection, he had many
difficulties to overcome. He enclosed the cylinder in an¬
other containing steam, and that in a wooden case at a
small distance from it, which effectually prevented all con¬
densation in the inner cylinder from external influence;
and the condensation by the outer cylinder was very small.
In order to regulate the power of the engines when
working light loads, Mr Watt introduced the variety which
he called the expansive engine, the principle of which had
first occurred to him in 1769, and was applied by him
about 1776. “ The steam-valve is always allowed to open
fully ; the pins of the plug-frame are regulated so that that
valve shall shut the moment the piston has descended a
certain portion, suppose one-fourth, one-third, or one-half
of the length of the cylinder. Thus far the cylinder is
occupied by steam as elastic as common air. In pressing
the piston farther down, it behoves the steam to expand
and its elasticity to diminish. It is plain that this can be
done in any degree we please, and that the adjustment can
be varied in a minute by shifting the plug-pins.
“ In the meantime, the pressure on the piston is con¬
tinually changing, and consequently the accelerating force.
The motion, therefore, will no longer be uniformly accele¬
rated. It will approach much taster to uniformity ; nay,
it may be retarded, because, although the pressure on the
piston at the beginning of the stroke may exceed the re¬
sistance of the load, yet, when the piston is near the bottom,
the resistance may exceed the pressure.”
Hitherto we have considered the condensing steam-en¬
gine of WTatt as applied to work the large pumps used to
579
History
and De¬
scriptive
Account.
580
STEAM-ENGINE.
History draw water from mines, or to supply reservoirs from a lower
and De- level. This, indeed, was the most obvious and immediate
scriptive application of the steam-engine, which was at first intro-
Account. as a substitute for the atmospheric pumping-engine
of Newcomen. But it had always been matter of regret
that one-half of the motion was unaccompanied by any
work. It was a very obvious thing to Mr Watt, that as
the steam admitted above the piston pressed it down, so
steam admitted below the piston would press it up with
the same force, provided a vacuum was made on its upper
side. This was easily done, by connecting the lower end
of the cylinder with the boiler, and the upper end with the
condenser. The steam-engine of revolution of Mr Watt
was an invention subsequent to the mining steam-engine,
or “ water commanding machine.” Previously to the time
of Watt, indeed, there had been a few attempts to produce
a revolving motion by steam, such as the case where the
engines of Savery and Newcomen drew up water to turn a
wheel. There had also been many attempts to apply the
old pumping-engine directly to this purpose. Jonathan
Hulls, Keane, Fitzgerald, Mr Oxley, John Stewart, and
Matthew Wasbrough, had all contrived some means of pro¬
ducing a revolving motion from the reciprocation of the
great beam; but Watt’s engine alone was capable of being
rendered an efficient and economical motive-power for
driving machinery of continual motion. The earliest re¬
cord of the invention was in 1774. The Albion Mill
“ The piston being at the top of its stroke, the valves History
G and L are to be opened, and the fly-wheel m turned and De-
bv hand about the eighth of a revolution, or more, in 8.criPtive
D Account.
Fig. 16.
engine (figs. 16 and 17) were amongst the earliest rotative
engines made for sale.
The steam-pipe f conveys steam from the boiler n to the
cross-pipe or upper steam-nozzle G, and by the perpen¬
dicular steam-pipe I, to the lower steam-nozzle K. In the
nozzle G is a valve, which, when open, admits steam into
the cylinder above the piston B (fig. 16), through the hori¬
zontal square pipe at its top ; and in the lower steam-nozzle
K there is another valve, which, when open, admits steam
into the cylinder below the piston. In the upper ex¬
haustion-nozzle H is a valve, which, when open, admits
steam to pass from the cylinder above the piston into the
exhaustion-pipe j, which conveys it to the condensing ves¬
sel m, where it meets the jet of the injection from the
cock m, and is reduced to water; and in the lower ex¬
haustion-nozzle l there is also a valve, which, when open,
admits steam to pass out of the cylinder below the piston,
by the eduction-pipe into the condenser h.
the direction in which it is intended to move; the steam
which is then in the cylinder will pass by L into the
condenser, when, meeting the jet of water from the injection-
cock, it will be converted into water, and the cylinder thus
becoming exhausted, the steam, entering the cylinder by
the valve G, will press upon the piston, and cause it to
descend, while, by its action upon the working-beam
through the piston-rod, &c., it pulls down the cylinder out
of the beam and raises up the outer end and the con¬
necting-rod J), which causes the planet-wheel i to tend to
revolve round the sun-wheelj; but the former of these
wheels being fixed upon the connecting-rod, so that it
cannot turn upon its own axis, and its teeth being en¬
gaged in those of the sun-wheel, the latter, and the fly¬
wheel, upon whose axle or shaft it is fixed, are made to
revolve in the desired direction, and give motion to the
mill work.
“ As the piston descends, the plug-tree z also descends, and
a clamp or slider q, fixed upon the side of the plug-tree,
presses upon the handle 1 of the upper Y shaft, or axis,
and thereby shuts the valves G and L ; and the same ope¬
ration, by disengaging a detent, permits a weight sus¬
pended to the arm of the lower Y shaft to turn the shaft
upon its axis, and thereby to open the valves K and H.
Just before the opening of these valves, the piston had
reached the lowest part of its stroke, and the cylinder
above the piston was filled with steam ; but as soon as H
is opened, that steam rushes, by the eduction-pipe J, into
the condenser, and leaves the cylinder empty above the
piston. The steam from the boiler entering by I and K,
acts upon the lower side of the piston, and forces it to
return to the top of the cylinder. When the piston is
very near the upper limit of its stroke, another slider A raises
the handle Q, and in so doing disengages the catch, which
permits the upper Y shaft to revolve upon its own axis
and open the valves G and l, and the downward stroke re¬
commences, as has been related.
When the piston descends, the buckets r, t of the air-
pump p and hot-water pump t also descend. The water
which is contained in these pumps passes through the valves
STEAM-ENGINE.
History of their buckets, and is drawn up and discharged by them
and De- through the lander or trough t by the next descending
scriptive stroke of the piston. Part of this water is raised up by the
Account.^ pump N for ^ SUppiy 0f b0iler> and the rest runs to
waste.
The history of the steam-engine in a great measure ends
with the history of Mr Watt’s labours. There remain, of
course, important improvements in points more nearly of
detail; and it would be unfair to ignore the doings of Watt,
and others, in the article of boilers. For a consideration
of these and other points arising for discussion, the reader
is referred to the succeeding portions of this treatise.
The names of many individuals who have in earlier
times distinguished themselves by ingenuity directed to the
steam-engine have been omitted in this notice, not because
we consider their labours either undeserving of notice or
uninteresting to the general reader, but because they have
not contributed towards the production of the modern
steam-engine, and because an account of their works would
rather serve to illustrate the possible varieties of the ma¬
chine and the fertility of the human mind in mechanical
devices, than either to conduct the reader along the stream
of historical succession, or render him better acquainted
with the nature and mechanical peculiarities of the steam-
engine itself.
For the important purpose of converting reciprocating
rectilineal into rotary motion, Mr Watt had early designed
the application of the crank. A crank is an elementary
machine, which has been used from the earliest times for
converting a revolving into a rectilineal motion, or the re¬
verse. A crank is merely a handle to a
wheel, by which it may be turned round.
In fig. 18, let ax be an axis of a wheel
bed, and «rp the usual bent (or crooked)
handle by which it is turned round
by the man, whose arm first pushes
it from him, and then draws it towards
him, and so continually turns the wheel
round, then the part or radiating from
the centre, is called the crank, the axis ax
is called the crank-axle, and the straight
part pr is called the crank-pin.
The idea' of the crank had very early occurred to Mr
Watt; “but my attention,” says he, “being fully employed
in making and erecting engines for raising water, it re¬
mained in petto until about the year 1778 or 1779, when
Mr Wasbrough erected one of his ratchet-wheel engines at
Birmingham, the frequent breakages and irregularities of
which recalled the subject to my mind, and I proceeded to
make a model of my method, which answered my expecta¬
tions ; but having neglected to take out a patent, the inven¬
tion was communicated by a workman employed to make the
model to some of the people about Mr Wasbrough’s en¬
gine, and a patent was taken out by them for the application
of the crank to steam-engines. This fact the said work¬
man confessed, and the engineer who directed the works
acknowledged it, but said, nevertheless, the same idea had
occurred to him prior to his hearing of mine, and that he
had even made a model of it before that time, which might
be a fact, as the application of a single crank was suffi¬
ciently obvious. In these circumstances I thought it better
to endeavour to accomplish the same end by other means,
than to enter into litigation, and if successful, by demolish¬
ing the patent, to lay the matter open to every body. Ac¬
cordingly, in 1781, I invented and took out a patent for
several methods of producing rotative motions from recipro¬
cating ones, amongst which was the method of the sun and
planet wheels, above described.”
Oliver Evans, of Philadelphia, United States, devoted
himself to the development of the non-condensing, high-
pressure steam-engine, in which the condenser was super-
581
seded, and the steam was treated as in Leupold’s engine, and Cylinder-
exhausted into the atmosphere. Before 1785 he had erected Valves and
and made experiments upon a high-pressure engine, which their be¬
seems to have been in all essential respects similar to our cllani8m'
own. Indeed, it appears that the Americans have taken
the form and arrangements of their engines from Evans,
as implicitly as in this country we have adopted those of
Watt. The history of Evans consists almost entirely of
the romance of real life. Sanguine and energetic, he
continually encountered difficulties only to overcome them,
and to encounter renewed disaster and disappointment, till
he at length died of a broken heart. To him may be attri¬
buted the rapid advancement of America, at the commence¬
ment of the present century, in all that relates to the in¬
troduction of the steam-engine in its multifarious applica¬
tions, and especially in steam navigation. He had awakened
in that nation a lively sense of the advantages they were
likely to derive from the power of steam, and placed in
their hands an instrument wTell fitted for their use, and
which they were not slow to adopt and apply.
SECTION II.—CYLINDER-VALVES AND THEIR MECHANISM—
HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT.
The modern non-condensing steam-engine is in principle
the same as Leupold’s engine ; and if the latter be supposed
to be consolidated into one cylinder, double-acting, analo¬
gous to the conversion of the single-acting condensing
engine by Mr Watt into double action, its operation would
be represented by the figure 19, which comprises an au¬
tomatic valve, or four-way cock, opened and closed by the
reciprocating movements of
the beam. A vertical
rod, ii2, being suspended
from the lever, with two
plugs by which the handle
h of the valve is raised;
in that position the steam
enters at s, and passes up
the superior passage into
the top of the cylinder,
forcing the piston down,
while the steam, acting be¬
low the piston, finds free
egress along the inferior
passage B, through the
valve, and escapes by the
eduction-pipe E into the
open air. Just before the
piston gets to the bottom of the stroke, the plug i strikes
the handle H into the position h2, when the direction of
the passages is reversed; the steam enters below the pis¬
ton, and escapes from above. The four-way cock was
superseded by Murray’s “ slide-valve,” now in ordinary
use, by means of which the distribution of the steam
was more simply effected. In this case all the four pas¬
sages are united in a square box called a valve-box,
or valve-chest, as in fig. 20; s, E, A, B being the steam,
eduction, upper and lower passages. Into this box is in¬
troduced a small valve or cover d (fig. 21), which is of such
a size as at one time to leave open only one of the three
openings on the right; so that, by covering two of the
openings A and e, as in fig. 22, the steam from s can only
find its way through b into the lower part of the engine,
while the steam already in the upper part of the cylinder
can find its way, below the valve D, into the eduction-pipe
E, so as to escape into the air. The valve is next shown
in fig. 23, in its middle position, where all the three pas¬
sages are closed, preparatory to reversing the direction of the
steam, as in the third position wffien it slides from the upper
port A, as is shown in fig. 24, so as to allow the steam to
Eig. 18.
582
STEAM-ENGINE.
Cylinder- enter above the piston and press it down, while the steam
Valves and formerly below the piston escapes into the air through the
their Me-
ehanisrn.
Fig. 20.
Fig. 21.
Fig. 22.
passage b, under the valve D, by the eduction-pipe E.
This valve, named from its figure the D valve, is also
Fig. 23. Fig. 24.
worked by the machine itself, either by some of its mov¬
ing parts striking plugs on a rod which is fixed to the valve,
or by some of the other apparatus, which will afterwards be
described.
Another form is that called the long slide or long d valve,
the invention of Mr Murdoch, which gives the advantage
of shutting off the steam close to its ingress into the cylin¬
der, and so saving what in the common short D slide is
lost in the passage from A and B to the ends of the cylinder.
It is formed thus :—The valve-chest extends along the side
of the cylinder. It is shown in fig. 25 without the valve.
In fig. 26 the long d slide valve is shown separately. It is
a sort of pipe, extending along the whole length of the
cylinder. Towards the ends, this pipe is almost semi¬
circular, with two narrow flat plates capable of covering the
openings or ports of the cylinder. This pipe is left open,
and perfectly clear from the one end to the other, so that the
steam may traverse it freely lengthwise. The steam-pipe is
represented as entering the valve-chest from below at s,
and the eduction-pipe in the middle as at E. In this valve-
chest are placed packing-boxes, as they are called, imme¬
diately opposite the ports of the cylinder. They contain
soft, elastic hemp, soaked in oily matter, the object of which
is to press against the truly cylindrical and polished out¬
side ot the slide-valve when it its place, and make steam-
tight partitions in the valve-chest, to prevent communication
between the middle and the two ends.
In the figs. 27 and 28, the valve is shown in the working Cylinder
position. In fig. 28, the steam from s rises up along the Valves ar
centre of the slide, and enters the upper port A, while the their Me
chan ism
sJHLz,
Fig. 27.
steam in the under part of the cylinder has free egress
through B to the eduction-pipe E. In fig. 27, the steam
has free access to the lower port B, while the steam already
above the piston has free egress through the upper port
A to the eduction-pipe E. In this species of slide, there
is scarcely any loss of steam in the passages, as it is cut off
close to the cylinder.
Instead of the long d slide, which is very heavy, on a
large scale, two short slides, similar to its two ends, and
connected together by bars, have been used in the follow¬
ing form. Fig. 29 is a section of the slide; fig. 30 a face
view; and fig. 31 a section of the cylinder with the valves
Fig. 29.
Fig. 30.
in their places. In this case, however, there are two educ¬
tion-pipes E, e instead of one, as formerly, and the steam-
pipe s enters between the valves.
A cylindrical slide-valve of the following form has been
used in a considerable num¬
ber of engines, and works
well. The valve-chest is an
upright cylindrical pipe p Q,
the inside of which is bored
truly cylindrical, and is ex¬
actly fitted by two metallic
cylindrical plugs, which are
ground so smooth in their
places as to be steam-tight.
It will be apparent from the
figure that these two plugs, be¬
ing raised and depressed by
the valve-rod which connects
them, will effect the same
purpose as the former valve.
(Fig. 32.)
The conical-valve, spindle-valve, or button-valve, as it is
variously designated, is a species introduced by Mr Watt,
and improved by his assistant Mr Murdoch, from whom
the steam-engine of Watt has received many valuable ap-
STEAM-ENGINE.
583
chamsm.
Fig. 34.
Cylinder- pendages and much of its practical perfection. It has
1 halves and been applied in two forms. Mr Watt’s own form, the
their Me- ear]ier one, is given in the following figures. For a single
engine four valves are required. One of them is represented
separately in figures 33, 34, which are vertical sections
through the valve, at right angles to each other. The
valve is shown open in fig. 33, and shut in 34. s is the
entrance of the steam, A the port, v the conical valve, and
N the seat or nozzle which it covers. On a cursory glance,
it is evident that when „
the conical cover v
of the aperture N is
up, as in the first
diagram, the steam
has free entrance
and when it is closed, Fig, 33.
the steam will merely press the valve down into its seat,
without obtaining an escape from the nozzle.
The last valve which may here be described is the crown-
valve, or equilibrium-valve, which is in use on the Cornish
engine, and has also been introduced into rotative engines.
Its value consists in effecting a large opening, and requir¬
ing little force to work it, while large valves of the common
sort are heavy, or are so much pressed in one direction by
the steam as to require great force to work them.
The crown-valve is so named from its resemblance to a
diadem. Conceive a chamber, fig. 35, out of which an
aperture A leads into the cylinder, and into which a pipe s
brings steam. The aperture a is surrounded by an upright
ring or collar rising a few inches into the chamber, which
ring is on all sides perforated by slits of considerable size,
but closed at the top. Figure 36 represents the crown or
cover of this valve, which is also a ring attached to a steel
rod or spindle, by which it is raised or depressed. All
round at the top and bottom, the collar in the chamber and
the crown-valve are ground so as accurately to fit each
other. Fig. 37 shows the valve on its seat and closed on
all sides, so that no steam can find admittance; and fig.
38 represents it open or raised up from its seat, with steam
Fig. 35, Fig. 36.
entering freely on every side. There are two ways in which
valves are worked by the steam-engine itself. The first
of these is by the agency of some part of the engine that
happens to move up and down, or performs a reciprocating
motion, and the other is by the agency of some part which
revolves. The following is a simple method, which has
been applied to the short D slide, already described. In
fig. 39, abp is the cylinder, p the piston, acting on the end
L ot the great lever ll2, raising and depressing it alternately ;
while the other end l2, united by the connecting-rod l2r
to the crank of the fly-wheel, turns it round. The manner
in which the steam-valves are moved, is by the long verti¬
cal bar or plug-rod tt, suspended from the lever ll2, so as
to move up and down with it. This bar tt carries two
projecting plugs of wood ss2 upon it, wnich strike alter- Cylinder-
nately up and down upon the handle IP at the bottom and Valves and
their Me¬
chanism.
top of the stroke, and so produce the reciprocating motion
of the slide-valve D; and by admitting the steam on alter¬
nate sides of the piston, and discharging it at the opposite
ports, produce the continuous motion of the engine. In
the figure, the steam is supposed to be forcing down the
piston ; but when the piston gets near the bottom, the plug
s will have come in contact with the valve-rod ll'1, and
will have forced it and the slide-valve D into the opposite
position, and so permitted the steam formerly above the
piston to pass into the open air, while the steam on the
other side presses up the piston, so as to bring the plug s2
in contact with the lever, pressing it up, and the valve D
down into its first position, and so on alternately. This
method of moving the valves, by a plug-frame, rising
and falling with the strokes of the piston, has been prin¬
cipally adopted for pumping engines that have no revolving
motion.
In the second system of valve apparatus, by which the
steam-engine is rendered automatic, the steam-valves are
worked by the revolving of one of the shafts or wheels.
Of the various methods in which this has been done, the
following are some examples. On the axis o of the crank
(at the bottom of the right side of fig. 40), which is turned
round by the rod L R during each alternate ascent and de¬
scent of the piston, is placed a cam or projection. A square
frame $l $2 sz encloses this cam. As the axis turns round,
the cam comes into such positions as to bear upon the sides
sx s1 and s3 s4 of the frame successively, and so pushes the
frame towards the right and left alternately, s e « is a bell
584
STEAM-ENGINE.
Cylinder- crank, which the horizontal rod ss"1 attached to the frame
Valves and moves on its centre e, and so shifts the point v and the
their Me- valve-rod uv up and down alternately, together with the
valves. The different positions into which the frame is
forced by the cam are sketched in figs. 41, 42, and 43.
chanism.
Fig. 41. Fig. 42. Fig. 43.
But that modification of this principle which is in by far
the most general use, is in the form called “ the eccentric
which is a circular disc, or ring of metal, placed upon the
shaft or axis, turned by the crank. In fig. 44, o is the
centre of the shaft or axis, to which revolution is given by
the crank R of the steam-engine. On this axis the circular
disc E E e is placed, but eccentric to it, so that its centre d
moves round the axis. The distance of the centre d of
the disc from the centre o of the axis is called the eccen-
tricity, and it is equal to half the throw or range of the
motion of the valves to be moved by the eccentric. The
rod, fig. 45, is called the eccentric rod, and is attached to
a hoop, or circle, that exactly fits the eccentric disc. The
various positions which the eccentric will take during the
revolution of the engine is shown in figs. 46 to 49.
Fig. 44.
In the application of valve-gear to railway locomotives,
it appeared that the gearing must be capable of being
readily reversed. In the early engines of the Killingworth Cylinder-
Railway, before 1820, the valves were moved by means of Valves and
a “ square box or tumbler, which was superseded by a loose their Me-
eccentric, fitting the driving-axle (fig. 50), a motion which chanism.
exactly answered the purpose, and was employed till the
revolutionary year in railway history, 1829. A lever was
fixed upon, and revolved with the driving-axle, formed with
a stud, which entered and slid freely in a concentric groove
cut in the body of the eccentric. The stud found its way
to one end of the groove, and determined the position of
the eccentric on the axle, for the fore or back gear. The
small end of the eccentric rod was permitted some longitu¬
dinal play in the eye of the intermediate lever, adjustable
by nuts. With an adjustable eccentric, of sufficient throw,
and the adjustable limits of the travel of valve, the valve
was quickly opened and closed, and its movement was
equally good for both directions. The motion so derived
was obviously similar to that of the ancient tappet frame, or
the more modern cam. Loose eccentric gear was employed
by Hackworth, and in the original inside cylinder engines of
the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. The two eccen¬
trics were cast in two pieces, and bolted together into one
mass, capable of sliding laterally on the axle between the
cranks. No play was permitted between the eccentric
rods and the valve-levers: a necessary precaution in high¬
speed engines. The eccentrics were engaged in fore and
back gear, by two snugs or catches fixed on the axle, be¬
hind each crank; the locking of the eccentrics being ac¬
complished by a forcible lateral movement. Separate
mechanism was employed to control the small ends of the
eccentric-rods, formed with gabs to disengage them when
it was necessary to work the valves by “ hand-gear,” which
was occasionally required at starting, as in Bury’s valve-
gear, fig. 51. But the system of loose eccentrics was, for
locomotives, cumbrous, complicated, abrupt, and easily
deranged. It was, therefore, readily abandoned for a
simpler and firmer plan. Two fast eccentrics were substi¬
tuted for the loose ones, one to each cylinder. This was
partially a reversion to the primitive plan of the fixed cam ;
and the same difficulty of working equally well in fore and
back gear was encountered. Mechanism suitable for work •
ing each valve with one fixed eccentric, affording the re¬
quired lead both ways, was invented by J. and C. Carmichael,
of Dundee, in 1818, and has been variously applied by
them. For locomotives (fig. 52), the eccentric rod was
finished with a double fork, to gear with the pivots of a
double spanner on the traverse shaft of the valve, and was
STEAM-ENGINE.
Cylinder- grvooed to receive a roller on the end of the reversing
Valves and lever, by which it was placed in fore or back gear, with the
theiir Me¬
chanism.
585
Fig. 52.
lower or upper spanner. The spread of the forks enabled
them to engage the pivots of the spanner in all positions of
the valve, and to bring them home to the gabs. This
motion, duly proportioned, preserved the lead of the valve
both ways—a matter of fact which for many years proved
a pons asinorum for ingenious youths. It was a real ad¬
vance upon the system of the loose eccentric, as one handle
sufficed for working the gear, and all the parts were solidly
put together.
The inconvenience of combining in one eccentric the
functions of two, was removed by the adoption of four fixed
eccentrics, of which the authorship is uncertain. Two were
provided for each cylinder, for working respectively in fore
and back gear. Each eccentric had its own fork; and
though the plan entailed the use of four eccentrics, and
additional bearings, the increased workmanship was com¬
pensated by precision and certainty of action. The first
application of four eccentrics to locomotives was made by
the Hawthorns of Newcastle, in 1837. It has been ascer¬
tained, however, that some time previously, an ingenious
mechanic, in private circumstances, residing at Newcastle,
had contrived and constructed an efficient model of valve-
gear for locomotives, in which four eccentrics were em¬
ployed, in the manner afterwards wrought out in practice.
In all the forms of double-eccentric gear, it was necessary
to effect simultaneously the disengagement of one pair of
eccentrics, and the engagement of the other. Various plans
of reversing were adopted. Stephenson employed two trans¬
verse shafts (fig. 53), the principal of which was worked by
Fig. 53.
the reversing handle, and commanded the four gabs; the
secondary shaft was linked to, and worked by, the principal
shaft, and it had charge of the back gabs. All the forks
geared from below, and one movement of the reversing
handle elevated one pair and lowered the other. Thus,
the manipulation was simple and easy, as the reciprocal
action of the gear balanced the weight of one pair of rods
with that of the other. To consolidate the gearing by
ispensing with the second shaft, Buddicom employed a
system for the outside-cylinder engines of the Paris and
Kouen Railway, in which the forks were opposed, and
VOL. xx.
worked by one lever on the reversing shaft, which was Expansion
placed below, and left clear head-room under the boiler. Valves.
In these plans an intermediate traverse shaft was neces-
sary to transmit the motion to the valves, as the valve-
spindles could not, according to the prevailing arrangement
of the steam-chest over the cylinder, be in the same hori¬
zontal plane with the driving-axle. A modification was
introduced, however, by which the valve-chests were re¬
moved from the top and placed between the cylinders,
uniting into one capacious chest, with vertical valve faces,
which brought the valve-spindles to the level of the driving-
axle, to dismiss the intermediate shaft, and to work the
valves directly. The forks were transferred to the valve-
rods, and the eccentric rod-ends formed with plain pins,
and linked. This motion, as it was the most direct, and
involved the fewest parts, was the best of all that had yet
appeared.
EXPANSION VALVES.
The conical valves of Watt, operated by tappets, which
opened and closed them at any desirable point of the
stroke of the piston, afforded ample range for expansive-
working ; and equal facilities were afforded by the use of
cams. But when slide-valves and eccentric motion came
in, the benefits of expansive-working and a clear exhaus¬
tion of steam were sacrificed to the simplicity and smooth¬
ness of action of the new mechanism of distribution. The
essential proportions of the primitive slide-valves, and the
steam-ports over which they travelled, are shown in section
in fig. 54, in which it is apparent that the length of the
valve was a very
little greater than
the extent of the
ports a, a, so as
barely to lap one-
sixteenth inch over
these openings,
just as an assur¬
ance that the steam
should not enter at both ends of the cylinder at the same
time; the body of the valve was made just so long that the
w'alls of the cavity c just closed the steam-ports a, a, on the
inside, when the valve stood midway. Engineers desired
chiefly to insure timely and free admission of steam, over¬
looking the much greater necessity that existed for an early
and liberal exhaustion; this valve, with such properties, was
in common use until 1838. The steam-passage was opened
to the exhaust immediately after it w'as closed for admis¬
sion, and both events took place at the termination of the
slider. Thus, no time was allowed for exhaustion previously
to the beginning of the succeeding stroke ; and so little were
the defects of this valve understood in locomotives, where
the highest speeds of piston were practised, that when, in
1836, according to Mr Edward Woods, short-stroke passen¬
ger-engines were introduced on the Liverpool and Man¬
chester Railway, to run at high speed, their greater con¬
sumption of fuel was ascribed to the supposed mechanical
disadvantage of the short stroke. Mr John Gray, then
locomotive-foreman at Liverpool, appears to have been the
first to have suspected the cause of the excessive consump¬
tion of fuel; and after having made a few preliminary ex¬
periments on the valves of the stationary engine, and satis¬
fied himself that the evils complained of could be traced to
defective exhaustion, he lengthened the valves of one of
the locomotives, which had originally a “ lap” over the
steam-port at each end, of only % inch to f inch. The
effect was, that the eccentric being shifted and advanced
on the shaft, so as to cause the valve, with the additional
lap, to be just open at the beginning of the stroke, the
inside was open at least f inch to the exhaust, whereas,
previously, it was not open at all. The consumption of
4 E
Fig. 54.
5S6
STEAM-ENGINE.
Expansion fuel was, in consequence of the timely and more efficient
Valves, exhaust, reduced about one-fourth. Further experience
' led the way to the adoption by Mr John Dewrance of
1 inch of lap at each end of the valve, with a travel of 4£
inches, as depicted in fig. 55. By the use of the long
valve, which just
opened for steam
at the beginning
of the stroke, and
stood 1 inch open
for the exhaust, the
steam was cut off F’£- 55-
at 79 per cent, of the stroke, expanded in the cylinder
to 95 per cent., or 5 per cent, from the end of the steam-
stroke, and at this point it was exhausted. The waste steam
which had previously been choked up in the cylinder,
owing to the difficulty of escape, and so causing excessive
back-pressure on the piston, was freely released, less steam
was thus consumed, and other natural advantages accrued.
The necessity and advantage of lap on the valve was
thus established in railway practice, both as to its facilities
for affording a free exhaust, and tor working steam expan¬
sively. Without lap there could be no expansion ; and
though it was introduced primarily for the purpose of an
efficient release, its advantages as a means of working ex¬
pansively became likewise apparent. It was quickly adopted
on other lines of railway, as a specially good thing for high¬
speed engines, and by slow degrees circulated also in
stationary and marine practice, in which, certainly, pistons
moved at a more moderate velocity. In order to vary the
degree of expansive-working of steam, according to cir¬
cumstances, two classes of mechanism have been employed
for slide-valves—first, those mechanisms which operate
upon single valves by varying their travel; second, those
in which two valves are employed, one of which is spe¬
cially designed for varying the expansion. Increase of
expansion, it must be observed, is obtained simply by
causing the valve to cut off the steam earlier in the course
of the stroke. In mechanisms of the first-class, the travel
is varied by means of mechanism external to the valve-
chest, of which the merit of the first application was made
by Mr John Gray, on the Liverpool and Manchester Railway
in 1839. In his plan, the pin at the end of the eccentric-
rod slides in a segmented lever, curved to the radius of
the rod, the upper end of the lever being linked to the
valve-rod; thus the travel of the valve could be varied by
raising or lowering the eccentric-rod end in the segmented
lever. The celebrated “ link-motion” was originally in¬
troduced in 1843, by Robert Stephenson and Co., on loco¬
motives, and is now universally applied to them; it is also
extensively applied in marine and winding engines. It is
shown at fig. 56, as applied by that firm to locomotives,
Fig. 5G.
and is specially adapted for situations where the engine re¬
quires to be quickly and easily reversed, whilst its capacity
for advantageously working by variable expansion, in vary¬
ing the travel of the valve, is unquestionable. The two
eccentrics, fore and aft, usually provided, have the ends of
their rods connected by a slotted link, the slot of which
embraces the end of the valve-spindle from which the valve Historical
is worked. The link is commanded by a reversing lever, notice of
and may be raised or lowered, so as to bring the valve and
spindle into gear with, and receive the motion of, the fore or
the back eccentric; and, while the link would partake of
the two motions jointly of the two eccentrics, its horizontal
motion would be smallest at the centre of its length, and
would be extended towards the extremities. By shifting
the block or end of the valve-spindle towards the centre,
the travel of the valve is reduced, and variable expansion
obtained.
Variable-expansion gear of the second-class, with two
or more valves, has been applied in many different forms.
The use of a secondary valve, in addition to the principal
valve for expansive-working, is now limited to stationary
engines. For locomotives, it has often been tried and
abandoned, except in the United States, where, however,
the link-motion with a single valve is steadily superseding
the double-valves.
SECT. m.—HISTORICAL NOTICE OF STEAM-BOILERS.
During the first period of the history of the steam-engine,
the danger of bursting the boiler, and the difficulty of
making it strong enough to resist the internal force acting
towards explosion, and also of making the joints tight
against the leakage of highly elastic steam, formed the
chief obstacles to the introduction of steam as a mechanical
mover. The first important point in preparing a steam-
boiler is to secure strength without unnecessary expense.
The globular or spherical shape was very early adopted as
one of greatest capacity, as a shape in which, the pressure
at every point being equal, there remained no force tending
to produce flexure, or destroy the equilibrium of strength
and strain at any point. A fire was lighted below the
boiler, and the steam confined until the heat had raised it
to the required pressure. This form was accordingly
adopted by Hero, Savery, and others, as already noticed.
It was soon found that a spherical boiler, when set upon
an open fire, required an enormous consumption of fuel to
raise a small quantity of steam, the heat being copiously
communicated not only to the water in the boiler, but also
in very great quantity to the surrounding objects, besides
being rapidly carried off by the air. To surround the
spherical boiler with rion-conducting substances, and to
keep the flame throughout its
whole extent in
the boiler, so as to
ation to surrounding
and also to diminish the size
the fire by making it wind rou
the boiler, were the first ste
towards improvement; and i
accordingly find in the work
Dr Desaguliers the form
boiler (fig. 57), which is bn
into a brick casing, with the Fig. 57.
fireplace below, and the flue winding round the boiler
on its way to the chimney.
The form next in simplicity to the spherical boiler is the
cylindrical. From the facility with which a cylinder is
made, it was introduced at a very early period. It stood
upright like a bottle, as in fig. 58, the fire being placed at
the bottom, and the flue winding round that part of the
sides covered with water. This form of boiler was found,
however, to be weak in the bottom part.
For the prevention of these two evils, the cylindrical
form of boiler was very soon modified and improved by
two opposite expedients, one applied at the top and the
other at the bottom of the cylinder. The top being made
hemispherical, possessed all the advantages of a spherical
STEAM-ENGINE.
Eig. 58.
Fig. 59.
Historical boiler; and the bottom being arched upwards, so as to
notice of present a large concave dome to the impact of the flame.
Steam-
Boilers. ' '
This dome being sustained by the cylindrical belt round
its spring, a very strong and extensive surface was obtained,
as in fig. 59.
In this cylindro-spherical boiler it was found that the
action of the flame on the upright round sides produced
but a very slight effect in raising heat. It was therefore
desirable that the flame should be brought somewhat under
the sides by inclining them a little outwards. From the
form the boiler then assumed, and which has since become
very common, it has not inaptly been named the hay-stack
boiler, fig. 60. The same effect was next obtained in many
ot the boilers of Newcomen in the way represented in fig.
61, so that the flame in the flues impinged upon a surface
Fig. 61.
directly over them, the flues in this case forming a recess
in the sides of the boiler, instead of being built around it
by the brick-work alone.
In process of time, boilers of much larger size came to
be required, and the spherical shape was found cumbrous
and too capacious; that is to say, contained an enormous
mass of water, which it required much time and fuel to heat
to the boiling point before any steam could be raised. The
diameter, also, of the boiler was so great when much steam
was required, that the enormous dome became weakened.
To make a stronger boiler, and one which should at the
same time cover a large fire, the waggon-boiler (fig. 62), so
named from its form, was introduced by Mr Watt. It was
made of considerable length, and its transverse section re¬
sembles that of the old cylindrical boiler. In this form the
boiler was long made by Messrs Boulton and Watt. It was
afterwards improved by hollowing the sides (see figs. 63 and
Fig. 62.
Fig. 63.
64) in order to bring them more immediately over the flame.
These forms of boiler, although very convenient, are weak ;
they are very different from the spherical or cylindro-
spherical boilers in strength and safety, and it is necessary
to place in them strong iron stays, which are essential to
Fig. 64.
strength and security in' boilers having large surfaces, con¬
cave outwardly, or perfectly flat. To avoid the use of
stays, and to secure great strength without any other metal
than the shell of the boiler itself, is the object of the
cylindrical boiler with two hemispherical ends (fig. 65), laid
with its axis nearly horizontal, and below it, at one end, is
placed the fire, enclosed by brick, as usual. The flame tra¬
verses the bottom of the boiler, beating directly upon its
under horizontal surface, till it reaches the end furthest from
the fire. The flame and hot air then, in some examples,
return along the one side of the cylinder, being confined
in a brick flue, and passing along in front of the end which
is over the fire, traverses the other side towards the chim¬
ney, which it enters after having thus traversed the length
of the boiler three times, and applied its heat successively
to every point of the cylinder, which is covered with water.
This is a boiler that requires no stays, and is valuable
where room is not important. It contains much water, re¬
quires much heat to raise its temperature after being cooled
at night, and is very bulky.
The spherical, cylindrical, and waggon shaped may pro¬
perly be denominated the simple boilers. But some
hundred kinds of boilers have been invented for different
purposes ; almost all of them designed to save either bulk,
weight, or fuel. For these purposes one great object of
improvements in boilers has been to increase as much as
possible the extent of heating surface without increasing
the general dimen¬
sions. Thus Boul¬
ton and Watt have
inserted a flue in
the middle of the
large waggon-boiler
in the manner shown
in figs. 66 and 67,
so that, after the
flame has passed
Fig.66.
along the bottom of the boiler to the
further end, it returns along the flue in
the middle of the water to the front,
and then makes an entire circuit of the
outside of the boiler before entering
the chimney. The same plan has been
employed in cylindrical-boilers, the
flame and hot air being made to tra- Fig. 67.
verse a hollow tube or cylinder in the interior of the
boiler; sometimes several such flues have been used.
587
Historical
notice of
Steam-
Boilers.
V'—v—-^
588
Historical
notice of
Steam-
Boilers.
STEAM-ENGINE.
In these boilers, a large surface is still exposed to the
cold air; and the brick-work, in which the fire is placed,
radiates off a considerable portion of heat, which is lost.
To remedy this evil, the furnace has been so contrived that
the fire is in the inside of the boiler. This was probably
done for the first time by Smeaton, who succeeded in pro¬
ducing almost as high a proportion of steam from fuel as
engineers of a more modern date. His portable engine-
boiler is represented in figs. 68, 69. The interior of this
hay-cock boiler contains a hollow ball of cast-iron, in which
the fuel is burned. Air enters by an aperture at the bot¬
tom ; a large cast-iron pipe leads through the water to the
door, and another pipe, in the opposite direction, passes
through the water, conducting the products of combustion
to the chimney, immediately round which are introduced
the fresh supplies of cold water for replenishing the boiler.
But a much better boiler than this, and one which indeed
might bear comparison with many boilers of the present
day, is given by Mr Farey as the invention of an unknown
author. In the centre of a large old-fashioned hay-stack
boiler, figs. 70, 71, is placed a large round furnace, from
Fig. 70. Fig. 71.
which there passes a simple rectangular flue, winding round
and round the boiler in spiral circuits till it reaches the out¬
side, and thence passes to the chimney. In the same way,
it has often been provided, that the furnace should be in
the interior of a cylindrical boiler, by placing another cylin¬
drical tube, of large dimensions, in the interior of the outer-
case, as in fig. 72, to serve at once as furnace and flue.
This was probably first done by Trevithick, the advocate
of high-pressure engines in this country.
To the great central flue there have been sometimes
added lateral flues on each side, for the return of the pro¬
ducts of combustion, fig. 73. Thus, again, this internal Historical
flue has been made elliptical, fig. 74, a weak, and therefore notice of
dangerous, form. It is one of the faults of the boilers that Steain-
have their fires in the internal tubes, that the ash-pit and Boilers-
interior of the furnace over the fuel are so confined as to
prevent that perfect combustion of fuel which may be ob¬
tained by a deep ash-pit, a large expanse of fire-grate, and
a deep and wide furnace. These evils may, in some mea¬
sure, be obviated by an internal flue of large dimensions,
or by the following species of boiler, figs. 75, 76, where
the fire is still surrounded by water, and gives ample room
for the most perfect combustion. In this species of boiler,
the tube opens out at the front, so as to leave a semi¬
cylinder above the fire, and two vertical spaces, or “ water-
legs,” as they are called, which cover the fire on both sides ;
thus obstructing the heat that would otherwise pass away
into the brick-building, and, at the same time, covering a
large and wide space of furnace-bars, a deep ash-pit, and
so insuring adequate combustion. The internal surface
of this boiler has been still further increased, by substitut¬
ing for this single tube a number of smaller ones, which
in some cases are not more than two inches in diameter,
as in figs. 77, 78. After passing through all these tubes,
Fig. 77.
the flame and hot gases again return along the bottom and
sides on the right of the boiler, and pass back on the other
side to the chimney. The Butterly boiler (figs. 79, 80),
and similar to this, has been much used in Lancashire. It
has the large internal flue, but wants the fire-legs, and, in
this respect, is inferior to the former.
STEAM-ENGINE.
589
Definition
of the
Organs of
the Engine
PART II.—THE MODERN STEAM-ENGINE.
SECTION /.—THE MECHANICAL ORGANS OF THE MO¬
DERN STEAM-ENGINE—THEIR DYNAMICAL ACTION.
CHAP. I. ENUMERATION AND DEFINITION OF THE ORGANS
OF THE ENGINE PROPER.
The steam is conducted to the engine through the steam-
pipe, in which the stop-valve is placed; also the throttle-
valve, or regulator, for adjusting the supply of steam to
the cylinder; the supply may be regulated by hand or by
a governor. The steam-pipe sometimes contains also the
cut-off or expansion-valve, for cutting off the steam at any
part of the stroke, and may be controlled by the governor.
The cylinder may be single or double-acting. When
single-acting, or operating in one direction only under the
steam pressure, the piston is made to return in the opposite
direction by the action of a weight or counterpoise. In a
double-acting cylinder, the steam is admitted on the piston
at both ends alternately. The steam passes into the cylin¬
der through steam-passages, or steam-ways, or ports, the
entrances to which are sometimes called specifically the
ports, sometimes nozzles, opened and closed by the induc¬
tion and eduction-valves. When these are in one, it is
called a slide-valve, which is placed in the valve-chest.
In non-condensing engines, conventionally called high-
pressure engines, the waste steam discharged from the
cylinder escapes into the atmosphere through an exhaust-
pipe, or blast-pipe as in locomotives. The cylinder-cover
has a stuffing-box to pass the piston-rod, which, if tubular,
is called a trunk. A grease-cock is fixed to the cylinder,
or the cover, for the lubrication of the piston. An escape-
valve, held by a spring, may be placed at each end of the
cylinder, or blow-through, or cylinder-cocks, for the escape
of water collected in the cylinder, either by condensation
or by the priming of liquid water from the boiler. To
prevent condensation in the cylinder, it is cased in a jacket,
filled with steam from the boiler, or hot air ; and the jacket
is covered with clothing, or cleading, of felt and wood.
Double-cylinder engines have two cylinders, the steam
being admitted from the boiler to the first cylinder, and
filling the second by expansion from the first. The con¬
denser is a steam and air-tight vessel, into which the steam
from the cylinder is discharged and condensed by a shower
of cold water from the overheated injection-valve. In land
engines the injection-ioater is supplied from the cold well
surrounding the condenser, which is filled by the cold water
pump. In marine engines the water enters direct from the
sea. In the surface condenser the steam is condensed
within tubes, or other passages, surrounded by cold water
or air. The blow-through valves connect the cylinder with
the condenser, and there is a snifting-valve opening to the
atmosphere; through these valves steam may be blown to
expel air from the cylinder and condenser before the engine
is set to work. The vacuum-guage on the condenser shows
how much the pressure in the condenser falls below the
atmospheric pressure. Residual steam, air, and water are
extracted from the condenser by the air-pump, and dis¬
charged into the hot well, from which the boiler is supplied
with water. The surplus is discharged into a pond to cool,
in land engines; in marine engines it is delivered into the
sea.
The cross-head of the piston-rod is guided by a parallel
motion, to move in a straight line ; except in trunk-engines,
guided by the stuffing-box; oscillating-engines, in which
the cylinders oscillate on trunnions, and the piston-rod is
connected direct to the crank; Mr Hunt’s Z-crank-engines,
disc-engines, and rotatory-engines. The reciprocations of
the piston are either transmitted through a beam, and a
connecting-rod, to the crank, and the crank-shaft, for
double-acting rotative-engines', or the beam may be dis¬
pensed with, and the piston-rod coupled to the connecting-
rod, forming a direct-action engine. The fly-wheel on the
crank or main shaft equalizes the motion. The mechanism
to work the valves is called the valve-gearing, or valve-
motion.
A pair of engines work together on the same shaft; they
have a pair of cylinders, a. pair of pistons, a pair of cranks.
Engines are properly in pairs, when they are designed
simply to equalize the action of the power.
CHAP. II. ENUMERATION AND DEFINITION OF THE PARTS
AND APPENDAGES OF BOILERS.
The shell of the boiler, or outer part, commonly of iron,
is spherical, cylindrical, or flat in figure, or a combination
of these forms. The steam-chest, or dome, on the upper
side of the boiler, is a reservoir, whence the steam is sup¬
plied to the engine by the steam-pipe, which is fitted with
a stop-valve. The furnace is the chamber for the combus¬
tion of the fuel; when within the shell, it is called a fire¬
box. The flues, or conduits for the products, are either
external or internal to the boiler; cylindrical metal flues
are flue-tubes, and they are fixed at the ends into tube-
plales. The man-hole is the entrance to the boiler for in¬
spection, &c. Mud-holes are placed at or near the bottom
for the discharge of sediment, &c. The water is supplied by
the feed-apparatus ; its level is indicated by a float. The
boiler is emptied by the blowoff-cock ; the surface of the
water is cleared by the scum-cock. Brine-pumps may be
used instead of bloivqff-cocks to draw off the brine from
marine boilers. Sediment-collectors receive the solid im¬
purities floating in the water. Surplus steam escapes by the
safety-valves. Vacuum-valves admit air into the boiler, when
the pressure is less than that of the atmosphere, to prevent
collapse. Fusible plugs are inserted in the boiler, over the
fire, which melt and give vent to the steam when the pres¬
sure and temperature in the boiler become excessive and
dangerous. The pressure is indicated by the pressure-gauge.
The water-gauge shows the level of the water: it may be a
glass-tube, or it may be guage-cocks. The boiler is strength¬
ened by stays, which may consist of rods, bolts, or gussets.
The boiler is covered with clothing or cleading.
The fire-grate carries the fuel, and consists offire-bars
or grate-bars, supported by cross-bearers or bar-frames.
The mouth-piece is the entrance to the furnace, and rests
on the dead-plate ; the fire-door is fitted to and hung by it.
The heating-surface is the surface of the boiler exposed
to the flame and hot gases from the furnace. The boiler-
room, or internal capacity of the boiler, is divided into the
vjater-room, occupied by water ; and the steam-room, occu¬
pied by steam.
CHAP. III.—THE CRANK AND FLY-WHEEL.
The introductory historical account of the steam-engine
—in particular the engine of Watt—prepares the way for a
more systematic investigation of the modern steam-engine,
with its manifold adaptations to the demands of engineering
practice. The cylinder and piston, the crank and the main
shaft, are the primary elements of steam-engines; the
cylinder to contain the steam, the others to receive and
transmit its energy. The following chapter is to be devoted
to a consideration of the movements and action of the
mechanical organs of the steam-engine, geometrically con-
Definition
of the
Parts of
Boilers.
590
STEAM-ENGINE.
Wheel.
The Crank sidered, prior to the study of the behaviour and performance
and Fly- Gf t}le steam within the cylinder.
The Crank and Fly-wheel.—One of the most important
appendages of the steam-engine is the crank, by means of
which the force of steam, although at first producing motion
only upwards and downwards in the straight line of the axis
of the cylinder, is nevertheless rendered capable of exerting
that force equally well in a circular direction. When the
steam-engine is only employed for some such purpose as
pumping up water no crank is necessary; but as some of
the most usual and valuable applications of the steam-engine
are those where it turns wheels of mills, of cotton ma¬
chinery, of steam-vessels, or locomotive engines, the crank,
by which this is accomplished in an admirable and simple
manner, which has superseded every other plan of trans¬
mission, is entitled to very minute consideration. On ex¬
amining in detail the action of the crank, it is to be ob¬
served that the force exerted by the steam is neither con¬
stant in direction nor in action. If the steam be admitted
first below the piston, it forces it to the top of the cylinder ;
it is then cut off, preparatory to its being admitted above
the piston ; and in the interval it has no motive action.
When admitted above the piston, it forces it to the bottom
of the cylinder; and again there is a cessation in its action
during the change in the position of the valve. Now it is
evident that this recurring cessation of action between the
alternating impulses would interrupt the continuous revolu¬
tion in the wheel, but for the power of the wheel itself to
continue the motion, by what is termed the momentum of
its mass. When the steam, during a stroke of the machine,
is acting most powerfully on the piston, part of its power is
spent in accelerating the wheel; and when, at the end of
the stroke, it ceases for a time to act, the wheel gives out
the power which it had gained, and continues its motion
until the next stroke gives it a fresh accession of power.
A wheel of this kind, when attached to an axle for equaliz¬
ing motion, is termed a fly-wheel; and to obtain the full
benefit of its equalizing power it is made of large diameter,
that its rim may move rapidly, and it is made of great
weight, being formed of iron, that it may acquire momen¬
tum to render the motion as uniform as possible.
From the circumstance that at one period the steam
possesses no power of turning the crank, it has been ima¬
gined that some considerable loss of the power of the steam
takes place during its transmission through the crank. This
is a grave error. Figs. 81 to 84 represent the crank in
different positions. In figs.
81, 84, the connecting
rod and crank are in the
same straight line, techni¬
cally called the position
“ on the centre,” or pass¬
ing the line of centres, in
which the action of the
the steam neither tends to
turn the crank in the one
direction nor the other.
Again at M and N (figs.
82, 83), where the crank
is acted upon at right
angles by the connecting-
rod, it is plain that the
whole force transferred
through the rod is acting
to turn the crank ; while
in the intermediate posi-
Fig. SI.
Fig. 82.
L" ,
Fig. 83.
Fig. 84.
tions there are two efforts, one acting on the centre of the
crank, and another to turn it round. For examining the
proportion of these forces to each other, we may use the
two following diagrams. Fig. 85 represents the circle of
the crank, the arrows showing the direction in which the
crank-rod would require to act, in order that all its force The Crank
should be undivided, and produce alone the single effect of and Fly.
Fig. 85. Fig. 86.
causing revolution. Fig. 86 indicates the deviation which
the actual motion of the crank exhibits from this hypothet¬
ical condition. The arrow a indicates the direction of the
action of the connecting-rod, which at divisions 10 and 20
is acting only towards the centre of the circle, with no effect
in producing revolution. At divisions 5 and 15 the whole
effect takes place in producing revolution only. Through
the first half of the circle the pressure of the rod acts wholly
downwards, and through the latter half of the circle wholly
upwards. The circumference of the circle being divided
into twenty equal parts, the analysis of the force is given in
the figure at several of these points. At the second divi¬
sion, a represents the direction of action of the crank-rod;
h is parallel to the direction of the circumference (or tan¬
gent) of the circle at that point, while the line c is directed
to the centre ; a indicating the direction of the whole force
of the connecting-rod, h representing the effect produced
in the direction of the tangent to turn it round, and c the
effect of the force of the connecting-rod acting to produce
pressure on the centre of the crank; but as the centre of
the crank is fixed and prevented from moving, none of the
moving power of the crank is given out in producing motion
towards the centre, but only in producing motion in the
circumference. At the fourth division of the circumference,
it may be observed that the effect of the connecting-rod is
differently distributed. The whole force a is now more
nearly in the direction of b, and c is comparatively small;
showing that, as we approach the end of the first quarter’s re¬
volution, the force of the connecting-rod is producing much
less pressure in the centre of the crank, and pressing in a
higher proportion in the direction of the revolving effect,
until at last the connecting-rod being at right angles to the
crank, its whole pressure acting to turn round the crank,
none of it is directed towards the centre. After passing
the quadrantal point 5, the crank-rod still presses down¬
wards, as shown by the arrow a at point 7 ; but, of its two
effective pressures, one represented by b still acts in turn¬
ing round the crank, while another, represented by c, in¬
stead of acting towards the centre, as in the upper quad¬
rant, now produces a pressure which would draw the crank
away from the centre; but as the crank is fixed, none of
the motive-power is employed in producing any motion of
the crank away from its centre. Similar alternating effects
are produced through the other quadrants; so that while
the pressure of the steam, acting through the connecting-
rod upon the extremity of the crank, is divided into two
effects, one of these is prevented from expending the mov¬
ing force of the engine by the fixedness of the crank-
centre, and the whole motive-power is given out only at the
circumference of the crank-circle in turning it round, but
in a proportion of pressure that is continually varying from
0 to a maximum, and from a maximum to 0, through every
successive quadrant of the circle. In order to simplify the
inquiry, it proceeds, meantime, on the assumption that the
pressure transmitted through the connecting-rod is con¬
stant. In general practice, with expansive-working and
other circumstances, it varies, and the influence of this
STEAM-ENGINE.
591
The Crank variation will be another subject for consideration. The
and Fly- variation of pressure circumferentially on the crank of a
Wheel, steam-engine may be conveniently represented by curves.
Let the circumference of the circle described by the crank
be represented by the straight line A x (fig. 87), and
divided into any number of equal parts; let straight lines
y y1 y3, &c., be drawn to represent the amount of pressure
converted into the direction of the motion of the crank,
according to the line b in fig. 118, being the amounts re¬
presented in the line of figures, then the curved line A,
y y y x, passing through the summit of all these lines, will
represent the variation in the power of the crank at each
instant of time, each ordinate yx y1 y* being the pressure,
and the area of the whole figure will represent the whole
motive-power, having a maximum at yb and yXb, and a
point of change of direction from pressure one way to pres¬
sure the opposite way at y™.
Now, one method of equalizing the rotative pressure on
the crank has been proposed, and is very generally adopted,
•—viz., to make two steam-engines act on the same axis by
means of two cranks at right angles to each other, so that
w hen the one ceases to exert force the other may be at its
point of greatest force.
Thus, in figs. 88 to 91, two cranks are represented as
coming from two cylinders, and attached to the same axis,
so that when the one of them is at 0 the other is at 5,
when the first is at 5 the second is at 10, and so on ; so that
while either is on the line of cessation of force, the other is
at the point of maximum.
The joint effect of two such cranks may be represented by
curves in the following way:—Let the circumference of each
crank-circle be represented by the lines A x, and A2 x2 (figs.
92, 93), as formerly, each semi-circumference being divided
into eight parts, and let the pressure be calculated from a
table of sines, where each will be found as the sine of the arch
of the circumference to which it corresponds ; the numbers
thus obtained being set off on the base lines, the varying
quantity of force, but without regarding the reversion of
direction. If, now, we place these curves together, as in
fig. 94, their whole ordinates taken across from the one
curve to the other, will represent the amount of the sum of
the forces and its variation ; and if we place all these ordi¬
nates from a fourth axis, we shall have represented by the
new curve (fig. 95) the variations of the sum of the forces
of the two cranks.
When a lever intervenes between the crank-rod and the
piston-rod, new irregularities are introduced. The varia¬
tion in the direction of the connecting-link, and in the posi¬
tion of the lever-ends from a straight line, introduces modi¬
fications of these effects of a serious nature, but not of a
large amount. It is worthy the attention of practical men
to consider these variations, and the manner in which they
affect the uniformity of the pressure. They affect it by
way of increase at the beginning and end of the stroke.
By proper arrangements these very obliquities may be ren-
First.
00000
38-268
70-710
92-388
100-000
92-388
70-710
38-268
00-000
38-268
70-710
92-388
100-000
92-388
70-710
38-268
00-000
Fig. 95.
Second. Sum.
100 000 100-000
92-388 130-656
70-710 141-420
38-268 130-656
00-000 100-000
38-268 130-656
70-710 141-420
92-388 130-656
100-000 100-000
92-388 130-656
70-710 141-420
38-268 130-656
00-000 100000
38268 130-656
70-710 141-420
92-388 130-656
100000 100 000
The Con¬
necting-
Rod and
Parallel
Motion.
dered very considerable improvements in the working of
the engine. It should also be observed that the stroke of
the piston and crank will not remain of the same length.
The agency of the crank in transmitting a force parallel
to the piston-rod has been represented by the curve of sines,
as in fig. 96. But
if we represent in a
similar way the pres¬
sures produced by the
obliquity of the con¬
necting-rod, we shall
find the form become
that given in the fol¬
lowing figures. Fig.
97 represents the
variation of pressure
with a connecting-
rod of four times the
length of the crank ;
fig. 98 with a con¬
necting-rod of double
the length of the Flg- 96' f lg‘97- Flg’98, Fig- "•
crank ; and fig. 99 with a connecting-rod equal to the
length of the crank. It is obvious that with the shortening
of the connecting-rod, the irregularity of the motion be¬
comes very great. Two maxima rapidly succeed each
other, and these are wide apart from the next pair. Thus
two violent pressures succeed at a short interval, and a long
pause intervenes when the force is very small.
Instead of using two cranks for applying the force of two
steam-engines to the same axis of revolution, two engines
have been used with their cylinders laid at right angles to
each other, and having their connecting-rods applied to the
same cranks.
CHAP. IV.—THE CONNECTING-ROD AND PARALLEL MOTION
—THE GOVERNOR.
In considering the agency of the crank in modifying the
force and velocity of steam, so as to connect its direction, and
distribute its force in the manner required to produce a rota¬
tive motion in the machinery from the original reciprocat¬
ing motion of the piston in the cylinder, we have hitherto
avoided the introduction of another important element, by
which a further variation of force and of motion is produced.
The connecting-rod is a rigid bar of metal, which conveys
the motion of the piston from the piston-rod to the crank,
either immediately or through the interposition of the
lever or beam ; and as the connecting-rod, in doing so,
takes various directions, different from those either of the
piston-rod or of the crank, there is an obliquity of pressure
592
STEAM-ENGINE.
The Con- produced at both extremities of the connect,ng-rod, wh.ch
—gives rise to a variation of force and of direct,on winch
must be practically provided for and carefully appreciated
in quantity, in so far as it may affect the ultimate operation
of the machine. . ,. , . . . .
There are two ways in which the motion ot the piston-
rod is most commonly transferred to the crank,—either im¬
mediately through the connecting-rod, as in fig. 100, or
necting-
Rod and
Parallel
Motion.
Motion.
attached to the piston-rod at g and ^f1, they should have The Con-
the effect of keeping the point p in the straight line o g g' p. necting.
As these bars sg and s gx must describe circles round s and Rod and
s1, they would, in the positions s g2, s1 ^3, deviate altogether Parallel
from the straight line of the piston-rod ; but as the one will
act nearly as much in the one direction as the other in the
opposite, it occurred to Mr Watt that, by connecting their
extremities with a link g gl, and attaching the piston-rod,
not to the ends of the guide-bars, but to the middle of this
link, the point p might be prevented from deviating to any
appreciable extent from the straight line. This is accord-
ingly produced in a very simple way. The following
figures, 103, 104, 105, show the effect of these links in
various positions.
through the medium of the great lever, as in fig. 101, both
ends of that lever describing circles around its middle ful¬
crum as a centre, and the head of the piston-rod being
connected with the one end of the lever by means of an
iron strap or connecting-link. From inspection of the
figure it becomes plain that the connecting-rod or link is
never, except at two points, in the same straight line with
the piston-rod, so as to propagate its remodified force to the
crank, but that in these oblique positions it would produce
a lateral motion in the end of the piston-rod, which would
not only be a waste of power in producing motion in a
place where it is useless, but would have the effect of con¬
tinually bending the piston-rod in opposite sides, so as
either to break it or materially to impair its working. In
the first of these figures, Fp being the direction of the pis¬
ton-rod, p R that of the crank, the force in the piston-rod
in the direction p a becomes resolved into two parts p R
and pc, pu being effective in the direction of the crank-rod,
and pc tending only to give lateral motion to the piston-
rod, or else to bend it or break it across. And so also in
the second figure there is a similar separation of pressure.
To prevent these oblique pressures from wasting the power
of the steam, by producing lateral, useless, or injurious
motions, is the object of a series of contrivances called
parallel motions or parallel guides. The most notable of
these we owe to Mr Watt.
Let it be supposed that we desire to prevent the top of
the piston-rod p (fig. 102) from being  ^
moved by the obliquity of the connect- / \
ing-rod jor, either towards the right or
the left, then it is accomplished in the
following way:—A fixed support s is
found on one side of the piston-rod,
and another on the other sl, at equal
distances from it, and two parallel bars
g s and g1 sx are placed between the
piston-rod and these points, so that it
may be steadied between them. These
parallel bars are made so as to revolve
freely round the points s, sx, as centres,
each of the ends g gx describing the
circles g, g2, gx, g3; from which it is evi¬
dent that, if these rods were directly
This elegant and simple contrivance is not, however,
absolutely perfect. At the best, only a part of the line
which it describes makes an approximation to a straight
line, of scarcely sufficient length, and. beyond which the
stroke of the piston cannot be increased without being
seriously deranged. Nor can this be remedied but by con¬
structing the apparatus on a scale so large as to be highly
objectionable. Thus, in the above arrangement, the point
p is not kept perfectly in a straight line, but is, on the con¬
trary, compelled to deviate from it so as to describe a looped
curve. The nature of this deviation will become very evi¬
dent if we suppose the parallel motion to be altogether de¬
tached from the piston-rod, and the motion of the parallel
bar and link carried to its extreme, as in the following
figures, 106, 107. A pencil being used to trace the motion
Fig. 106.
Fig. 107.
\2
—
Fig. 102*
of the middle point, p will describe, not a straight line, but
a curve p xy. When we carry the rods up to the position
represented in fig. 106, where the bar g s comes into the
straight line with the link g g, the point p deviates from the
straight line by turning to px; and this is reversed in the
opposite extreme. In figure 107 the deviation is much
greater when the link g g comes into the same line with the
other bar ^5, and is also reversed in the position at the
bottom of the figure. By the time the links have been re-
STEAM-ENGINE.
The Con -
necting-
Kod and
Parallel
Motion.
turned to their primitive position, they have described the
curve xpy.
It is important to diminish this deviation, which increases
more rapidly than the square of the length of the stroke.
Having ascertained the greatest deviation at the end of the
stroke, and also at |-th part of the stroke from the middle,
bring the centres s and s nearer each other by a quantity
equal to the deviation at the said eighth part, and the great¬
est deviation will now be reduced to less than one quarter
of its former amount; the curve will now become a line of
the sixth (eighth ?) order.
The parallel motion of one point having thus been se¬
cured, it is easy to transfer it to any other point. This is
most commonly done by a pointed parallelogram. Thus,
to transfer it to a point in connection with s g prolonged
to t (figs. 108 to 110), take a second link t q, equal to g g,
Fig. 108. Fig. 109. Fig. 110.
and a second bar, called the parallel bar g q, equal to g t,
the corner q of the parallelogram will give a motion tq
similar to p. Figs. Ill, 112, show the parallel motion
Fig. 111.
Fig. 112.
transferred to a point still farther from the original point.
Another form of Mr Watt’s invention consists in placing
two bars in the same direction, with such a difference in
their length as may afford the means of compensation.
Suppose that the point p (fig. 113) is to be guided to move
g-
ff *-
Fig. 113.
Fig. 114.
in the straight line pgg; ss are points on the s^me side
of the required direction of motion, and sg,s'g, are the
differential bars connected by a link g'g, which is prolonged
to p. The dotted lines of the figures show the bars in dif¬
ferent positions. The point p does not describe a straight
line, but a curve, like figs. 106, 107. The motion of the
point p may be transferred to a distance, as in the former
instance, by a jointed parallelogram gptq (fig. 114). All
these parallel motions may be inverted, and, indeed, gene¬
rally are inverted, in steamboat engines. For practical
examples of them the reader may consult the plates.
All these motions, as well as the first, being imperfect,
various plans have from time to time been adopted for re¬
medying the evil. In American steam-engines, Watt’s
parallel motion has been to a great extent abandoned, be¬
cause in them long strokes and long cranks are preferred ;
and because, in such cases, the deviations of the point p—
that is to say, of the piston-rod from a straight line—would,
VOL. XX.
with Watt’s method, become excessive. Watt and his
assistants and followers were perfectly aware of this, and
hence were led to construct beams, and connecting-rods,
and parallel motions, of very great length, so as to diminish
the evil as far as possible. This has, of course, the effect
of rendering the whole engine both bulky and expensive,
and is, therefore, in many cases inexpedient. The Ameri¬
can engineers, therefore, use the sliding parallel motion ;
that is, they have substituted for the radius bars of the
parallel motion of Mr Watt a sliding-bar or groove, in
which the top of the piston-rod is guided. The head of the
piston-rod p (figs. 115, 116) is enclosed between two flat
surfaces, or between two parallel iron bars, which are kept
in the vertical position by means of stiff framing ; on these
it slides, or, to diminish the friction, wheels may be added ;
but there are reasons why such wheels do not, in practice,
work very well, and the plain slide is therefore preferred.
In fig. 115 we have represented this motion as applied to
Fig. 115,
Fig. lit).
an engine of the simplest form ; and in fig. 116, to a beam
engine. In locomotives and some classes of marine en¬
gines, the guide-bars are universally employed.
Another species of parallel motion was, we think, first
adopted in America;
but it has also been
used in this country.
It is the engine with
vibrating pillar. The
pillar, which supports
the beam or lever, in¬
stead of being fixed in
qn upright position, has
a joint at the bottom,
as will be seen in fig.
117, on which it, and
the beam, and the Fig. nr.
crank-rod perform a joggling motion backwards and for¬
wards during each stroke. The motion is of the following
nature:—The points (fig.
118) is fixed; so is s';
s g and s'g are moveable
bars; p g is ^ of p g.
The point g describes a
circle round s, and g
round s'; hence p de¬
scribes the curve psp oi
the sixth order. The
oscillation of the moving
mass of the engine in al¬
ternate directions, with a
sudden jolt at the end of
the stroke, renders this a
bid engine when made Fig.ns.
593
The Con’
necting-
Rod and
Parallel
Motion.
594
The Con¬
necting-
Rod and
Parallel
Motion.
STEAM-ENGINE.
on a large scale ; and it is obvious that the deviation of the
piston-rod from the straight line is very great.
But the principle which furnishes the most perfect paral¬
lel motion is one which, although not new, we have never
seen applied to practice. It is well known that the locus
of the extremity of a straight line, the middle of which
moves in a circle, the other end being confined to one
straight line, is also another straight line at right angles to
the former. Beta straight bar xy (fig. 119) be placed
with one end y confined in an horizontal groove a s, and
let a pin in the middle g be allowed to slide in circular
groove y g x, then the end x will always describe a straight
ties placed in a given straight line, while it moves along a
given fixed point, the other extremity of the arc will de¬
scribe another straight line at right angles to the former.
Let a semi-circular round ba.v y b x (fig. 120) be allowed to
slide through a fixed centre at s, the one end y sliding in
a groove, or along a bar s y, then the point x will describe
the perpendicular s xl, a perfect straight line.
To put this in practice in a form which shall not deviate
widely from received forms of construction, is not difficult.
The semi-circular groove and the semi-circular bar are not
good constructive expedients. But if we take a radius bar
sg (figs. 121, 122, 123), fixed at a centre s, so that its end
Fig. 124.
g describes a circle freely round it; and if we take a rigid
bar py of double the length of s g, and united to it at g,
then the middle ofpy being thus constrained to move in
the circle round s, we have only to permit y to slide freely
in au horizontal groove, and the point p being carried up
and down, will describe the straight line p s p. Fig. 124
shows the application of this motion to the simple engine,
and fig. 125 to the beam engine.
The Con¬
necting-
Rod and
Parallel
Motion.
Fig. 126.
Such is the mechanism which the obliquity of the direc¬
tion between the connecting-rod, or link, renders necessary
to prevent any of the motion, propagated through them,
from being expended in producing oblique transverse mo¬
tion in the top of the piston-rod. Still, however, the mo¬
tion of the piston-rod is modified by transference in an
oblique direction, and we have now to consider the nature
of that modification. With an indefinitely long connect¬
ing-rod, of which the angularity is inconsiderable, the rela¬
tion of the motion of the crank and the piston is repre¬
sented by the annexed diagram (fig. 126), in which ac is
the stroke of the piston, and ab c the
half revolution of the crank-pin simul¬
taneously described. Let the path
of the crank-pin be divided into equal
parts at the points 1, 2, 3, 4, and draw /
verticals from the points of division
to the line a c; then, as the angular
speed of the crank is uniform, and
the divisions of the circular path ab c
are equal, the line a c will he divided
by the perpendiculars already drawn into segments repre¬
senting spaces described by the piston in equal times; and
therefore, also, the varying average velocity of the piston
in the same spaces. Whence it is obvious, that the speed
of the piston, during one stroke, begins and ends at nothing
at the extreme or dead points a, c; that it accelerates to¬
wards b, the position, at half stroke, when it reaches a
maximum, and that beyond this point it is retarded till it
gains the end of its stroke. The two halves of the stroke
are described in equal times ; and in these halves the varia¬
tion of the velocity of the piston are exact counterparts.
The obliquity of the connecting-rod destroys the sym¬
metry here observed. In a stroke of the piston there are
three cardinal points—the commencement, the middle, and
the termination of the stroke. According to the preceding
diagram, these three points are arrived at by the piston
simultaneously with the horizontal and vertical positions of
the crank. But the angularity of the connecting-rod at
half-stroke of the piston virtually shortens its length, and
the crank-pin is by as much short of its midway position.
As the crank is presumed to move with a uniform angular
velocity, it follows that the piston describes the two halves
of its stroke with different average velocities, and in un¬
equal times. In an engine, for example, with a stroke
of 22 inches, and a connecting-rod 5£ feet long, or six
times the length of the crank, we find from the annexed
diagram (fig. 127) of the relative positions of the piston and
the crank, that, at half-stroke of the piston, the connecting-
rod a b falls short of the vertical centre line of the crank
by the amount o r, fully 1 inch. Dividing the stroke of
the piston into three equal parts, the connecting-rod being
in the relative positions, c d, ef, the distances of the points
d, /, from the centre line, are o s, o t, respectively 4£ and
2f inches. The corresponding angular positions of the
crank are, for the half-stroke of the piston, 6° with the ver¬
tical, and for the one-third of the stroke respectively 26°
The Gover
nor.
v
STEAM-ENGINE.
and 15°. The sum of 26° and 15°, or 41°, is the angular
motion of the crank during the middle third of the stroke,
and the complements of these 75° and 64° are the angular
motions for the extreme thirds. The average speeds of
the piston, therefore, in describing the successive thirds of
its stroke in the direction ab, are inversely as 64, 41, 75,
or directly, as 6, 9, 5, nearly ; and the two halves of the
whole stroke are described with average speeds inversely
as 84 to 96, or directly, as 8 to 7. The shorter the con¬
necting-rod, the greater is the irregularity so introduced
into the motion of the piston. The general effect, there¬
fore, of the connecting-rod on the motion of the piston is,
that the piston anticipates the position which it would oc¬
cupy if the connecting-rod were “ indefinitely” long at any
point throughout the whole of the front stroke, which is
described towards the crank ; and that throughout the back
stroke the piston is in the same degree behind the position
due to the crank alone.
T/te Governor.—The governor is an appendage to a
steam-engine of much value in regulating all its applica¬
tions to the production of uniform revolving motion. It
is merely a modification of an apparatus similar to the pen¬
dulum, and by which Huyghens once attempted to regu¬
late a time-keeper instead of the common pendulum. If
we suppose the axis A.x (fig. 128) to revolve along with
the ball b, hung by a
thread from x, and also
with two pieces of iron
#c, xc, bent so as to form
cheeks, of a form called
the cycloidal curve; then,
when the string b# comes
in contact with those
cheeks, the ball will per¬
form each revolution in
the same time as it would
make two oscillations if
merely swinging as a common pendulum ; that is, if there
be 39" 1 inches from the centre of b to x, the pendulum will
revolve once in two seconds. If, however, the ball b be
suspended from a; by a straight bar, such as bx in fig. 129,
the line Bar, in deviating from ax, will describe the circular
arch ab instead of a cycloid as formerly, and the time of
oscillation will vary as the ball recedes from A, the revolu¬
tions being more rapid at b than at b. If, in the position
B, the perpendicular height xc be 39T4 inches, then will
the revolution be performed in two seconds, or at the rate
of 30 per minute ; while at b they will be performed in less
time, and between b and A more slowly. The height ca:
for any required number of revolutions is equal to the length
of a simple pendulum, which will give double the number
of vibrations in the same time.
1 he regulation of the engine by the rate of the admission
of steam to the cylinder is effected in the following man-
ner • balls bb (fig. 130), showing Watt’s original
governor, are suspended by rigid bars from the fixed point
or centre x. These bars, being prolonged to kk, are joined
by links ky and ky to a moveable socket y, which can
slide up and down the axis. The straight lever yp is acted
Fig. 128. Fig. 129.
on at one end by y, and at the other it draws up or pushes
down the handle of a circular disc v, so as either to close
or open it to different de¬
grees ; this disc, called the
throttle-valve, is placed
within or in connection with
the steam-pipe that sup¬
plies the cylinder, so that
if the engine should at any
time move too slowly from
having too much work to
do, the balls will collapse,
raise up y, and open v to
the fullest extent, as at 4
in the small sectional figure
to the right, 3 being the
mean position ; while, on
the other hand, should the a
engine, from its work being
taken off, go too quickly,
the balls would fly off from
the axis, bring down y, and
close the valve to 2 ; or if
Fig. 130.
it had happened, as by an accident, that the load was sud¬
denly withdrawn, close the valve altogether, as at 1 in the
side figure. Instead, however, of the bars being always, as
here, prolonged above x, they have frequently the points
k k placed below x, and the socket y below these again, as
in several of the plates and woodcut illustrations.
SECTION //.—THE DISTRIBUTION" AND BEHAVIOUR OF
STEAM IN THE STEAM-ENGINE.
CHAP. I.—INTRODUCTORY.
It is within the cylinder that the power of steam is ex¬
erted and its work consummated, and our next business is
to study the behaviour of steam in the cylinder, and to
discover the conditions upon which its good working pro¬
perties may most efficiently be turned to advantage.
Steam, as it is commonly employed, is drawn directly
from the boiler, and is in the condition of maximum
density for the pressure and temperature, under which it
is generated and delivered over to the cylinder. The
slightest reduction of temperature, or abstraction of heat,
does, therefore, unavoidably incur the condensation of a
portion of the steam. It is this peculiarity of ordinary or
saturated steam—its sensitiveness to cold and susceptibility
of condensation—which defeats the ordinary expedients for
increasing its efficiency ; and it is essential that the nature
and extent of this distinction should be understood and
appreciated, in order to show how it may be prevented.
From the detailed description already accorded to Watt’s
engines, it may be gathered that steam operates in the
cylinder in a twofold manner—first, it is admitted freely
from the boiler into the cylinder, following the piston, and
exerting pressure upon it throughout a greater or less
portion of the whole stroke ; second, the communication
from the boiler to the cylinder being cut off, the volume of
steam thus enclosed within the cylinder continues, though
isolated, to press upon the piston and to follow it to the
end of the stroke, or at least for so far as the steam is
therein confined—that is to say, the steam is “ worked ex¬
pansively.” The energy resident in the steam, and of
which only a part is utilised in following the piston direct
from the boiler, is further utilised in virtue of the inherent
elasticity of the body of steam cut off into the cylinder.
Strictly speaking, the whole process is one of expansive
action, as the steam admitted direct from the boiler flows
into the cylinder by its elastic or expansive force, the
boiler constituting the fulcrum, or “point d’appui,” of
595
Distribu¬
tion and
Behaviour
of Steam in
the Steam -
Engine.
STEAM-ENGINE.
596
Distribu- action. The process is continued on a more limited scale
tion and within the cylinder, after the steam is shut off, the steam
Behaviour continuing, in virtue of the same elastic force, its expansive
°the St ™ ^action aSainst the Piston> the end of the cylinders consti-
Entum;111- tuting the fulcrum. The boiler, of course, exercises inde-
v , pendently its function of generating fresh steam to replace
that which is expelled.
Although, however, there is no generic distinction be¬
tween the admission of steam direct from the boiler to the
cylinder, and the subsequent continuation of duty under
the name of expansive working—seeing that it is but
elastic action in both cases—yet it is convenient in practice
to draw a line of demarcation between the period of the
stroke during which steam is admitted into the cylinder
and the period during which it is simply expanded therein.
The different conditions of the pressure or elastic force
during these two periods is usually quite apparent in the
indications of the internal pressure which, by means of
suitable instruments, may readily be observed and regis¬
tered, where proper proportions subsist in the mechanism
employed for the distribution of the steam; but in certain
conditions the distinction is obliterated, and the steady
uniform pressure with which the entering steam ought to
take its place in the cylinder merges frequently in the
descending pressure characteristic of simply expanding
steam. This descending pressure, indicated while yet the
communication between the boiler and the cylinder is not
finally cut off, is the result of what is expressively called
“ wire-drawing” the steam, the current of steam into the
cylinder being partially intercepted at the “port” or
entrance, by the nearly-closed valve or slide, and thus wire¬
drawn, “ throttled,” or spun into steam of reduced density
and pressure. Thus, then, in consequence of what is
technically considered an imperfection of mechanism, in¬
terrupting the flow of steam before it is fairly shut off, the
process of “ expansive working,”—an economising process
and nominally initiated when the cylinder is fully closed,—
may be anticipated at an earlier part of the stroke.
In describing the cycle of events known as the “ distri¬
bution,” or the ordering of the steam admitted to and sub¬
sequently discharged from the cylinder, it should be noted,
by way of recapitulation—speaking of engines as ordinarily
formed—that with the cylinder is associated the valve-chest
or steam-chest, into which the steam from the boiler enters
previously to its passing into the cylinder,—an ante-room
where the steam waits in readiness to enter the cylinder
when admitted. The form and position of the chest or
chamber varies indefinitely with the design of the engine.
From this chest three passages are formed, one leading to
each end of the cylinder, and the third passage leading to
the condenser or to the atmosphere, or otherwise for the
exit of the steam from the cylinder. The orifices of these
three passages or thoroughfares are known as ports, and are
usually brought together and placed parallel, terminating in
a flat surface on the side of the cylinder, on which the
valve reciprocates. The function of the valve is to distri¬
bute the steam, for which purpose it is impressed with a
simple reciprocating motion, by which it alternately covers
and uncovers each port leading to the cylinder, admitting
the steam from the chest, suppressing or cutting it off, and
ultimately releasing it from the cylinder by opening a
means of exit by the third port already mentioned. The
reciprocating motion of the valve is derived from an
eccentric, in the simpler forms of mechanism, fixed on the
driving-axle, and revolving with it. The linear motion
derived to the valve from the eccentric is, on a smaller
scale, exactly similar to that of the piston in connection
with the crank.
I hat the steam may gain admission to the interior of the
cylinder at the commencement of each stroke, the eccentric
is so set on the axle, in advance of the crank, as to have
the valve moved sufficiently aside at that juncture, that Geometri-
the steam-port may be uncovered by a small amount known callllustra-
as “lead,” at the beginning of the stroke. When the ta)n.ofthe
piston has described a portion of the stroke, the valve re-
turns in obedience to the return of the eccentric, and Valve6"
closes the port, thereby shutting off the further supply of i ^_J_r
steam to the cylinder behind the advancing piston; and
confining what has been admitted, during an additional
portion of the stroke. As the valve continues in its retro¬
grade motion, it uncovers the steam-port on the inside,
while the piston is still some distance from the end of the
stroke, and opens the way out of the cylinder for the
steam within, from which accordingly it emerges, and
rushes into the condenser or the atmosphere. This ex¬
ternal communication continues open, not only to the end
of the “ steam-stroke” through which the course of the
piston has been traced, but also during the greater part of
the “ return-stroke,” while the steam from the valve-chest
is busy on the other face of the piston. Shortly before
the completion of the return-stroke, the valve, in the regu¬
lar course of the motion prescribed for it by the eccentric,
closes the port to the atmosphere, and, finally, at a very
small distance from the end of the return-stroke, the port
is again opened, and the valve obtains the necessary lead
in timely preparation for the entrance of steam from the
valve-chest, before the commencement of the next steam-
stroke, and the development of the full steam-pressure on
the piston for another cycle of duty.
The periodical and cotemporaneous operations of the
piston, the valve, and the steam, just described for one end
of the cylinder and one face of the piston, take place inde¬
pendently for the other face of the piston ; so that, two
performances are proceeding together in one cylinder, and
the engine is thence denominated double-acting. Four
distinct events take place in consecutive order with respect
to each end of the cylinder—first, the admission of the steam
at or just before the beginning of the stroke; second, the
suppression of the steam ; third, the release or exhaust of
the steam ; and finally, the lock-up, or compression of the
exhaust steam, prior to the opening of the port for admis¬
sion. These four events together constitute the “distri¬
bution” for the cylinder, and their durations, measured in
parts of the stroke, are the “ periods of the distribution.”
By the aid of the indicator, which, as its name implies, is
a sort of stethoscope for the observation of what transpires
within the cylinder—a simple instrument for receiving and
registering the tension of the steam—a minute and accurate
picture of the operations within is transferred by pencil
to paper, affording valuable and indeed indispensable data
for the measurement of the power and efficiency of the
steam in the cylinder. But before proceeding with this
part of the inquiry, the movement and action of the slide-
valve, in its relation to that of the piston, had better be
explained by the process of geometrical illustration.
CHAP. II.—GEOMETRICAL ILLUSTRATION OF THE ACTION OF
THE SLIDE-VALVE.
As the path of the crank-pin is represented by a circle,
and the stroke of the piston oy a straight line, equal to the
diameter of that circle, so also the path of the eccentric is
represented by a circle, and the travel of the slide-valve by
a straight line, equal to the diameter of the eccentric circle
—assuming, for the sake of illustration, that the valve is actu¬
ated in direct connection with the eccentric. If, then, two
circles be described on a common centre C (fig. 131), for the
crank-path and the eccentric-path respectively, their dia¬
meters ab, ab, are the stroke of the piston, and the travel of
the valve. When the piston is at one end of the stroke at a',
the valve is opening the port at a", and is just as much in ad¬
vance of its middle position over the ports as is needed to
STEAM-ENGINE.
Geometri- draw the lap clear off the edge of the port at a, in addition
callllustra- to the lead or opening of the port at the beginning of the
tion of the
Fig. 131.
stroke. The position of the eccentric, then, (represented by
its own revolving-centre), must be at the point a", which is in
advance of its position at half-throw, in the line de, by as
much as the lap plusthe lead. As the axle revolves, the valve
is further opened by the retiring eccentric, till it falls into the
line ab, when the crank is getting on to half-throw. When
the crank has attained to half-throw, in the position CD, the
eccentric is on its way returning, and the motion of the
valve is reversed on the way to close the port. The port
is actually closed sometime before the valve and the eccen¬
tric return to their midway position—the former over the
ports, and the latter in the line CE,—in virtue of the lap on
the valve. Further, when the valve and the eccentric do
arrive at their middle positions, half-travel and half-throw,
the edge of the cavity of the valve coincides with the inner
edge of the steam-port, and the opening of the port to the
exhaust-passage, through the medium of the cavity, is forth¬
with established by the progressive motion of the valve.
All that has just been described of the operation of the
eccentric on the valve is effected before the crank com¬
pletes a half-revolution, that is, before the crank-pin arrives
at the point B, and, consequently, before the piston com¬
pletes its stroke. The valve, indeed, makes another change
before this ; it opens the other port at b', for the other end
of the cylinder, the lap having been completely withdrawn,
and an additional movement for the lead effected, just as
the stroke is completed.
The successive positions occupied by the valve during a
revolution of the crank may be graphically represented, as
in fig. 132, where ab and ab, being the circles of the crank
and the eccentric respectively, are divided into any equal
number of parts, of which the points A, a, are respectively
the positions of the crank and the eccentric at the begin¬
ning of the stroke ; the other points, B, b', d, d\ e, e, show
the simultaneous positions of the crank and eccentric at
intervals of one-fourth of a revolution. Draw the lines e,
f, g, h, i, k, parallel to the centre line ab, spaced apart at
intervals, equal to the exhaust and steam-ports and the in¬
tervening bridges ; e f and i k being the steam-ports, and
gh the exhaust-port. Place the valve on the perpendicu¬
lar at A, in the right position with respect to the parallels
e>f> K f°r the commencement of the stroke, showing the
requisite lead at f, and set off its positions on the face of
the diagram, according with the positions of the crank. The
elliptic lines, traced so as to connect these positions, re¬
present the linear motion of the valve relative to the ports
and to the crank, and, with the aid of a little shading, they
clearly show the successive periods and changes of the
distribution, subject, of course, to correction for the an¬
gularity of the connecting-rod. The shaded space G shows
the period of admission, terminating at g ; and the shaded
space H, the period of exhaustion, commencing at K. The
shaded space i shows the exhaustion for the alternate end
of the cylinder, k the compression, and L the short period
of pre-admission of steam for the following stroke.
On the same system, diagrams of motions may be con¬
structed for any other proportions, or other species of valve,
whether double or superposed valves, conical valves, moved
by cams, or with conditions otherwise varied. The link-
motion, as a variable expansion gear, operates by varying
the travel of the valve ; the extra expansion, and diminished
period of admission, being affected by the shortening of
the travel-the result being precisely the same as if an
eccentric of correspondingly smaller throw were substituted
for an eccentric of greater throw.
CHAP. HI. THE INDICATOR-DIAGRAM—THE GENERAL
BEHAVIOUR OF STEAM IN THE CYLINDER.
Proceeding to the investigation of the behaviour of steam
in the cylinder, it may be noted that the action is funda¬
mentally the same with condensing as with non-condensing
engines ; the difference being chiefly in degree. The re¬
ceptacle into which the steam from the cylinder is dis¬
charged, is, in one case, the artificial atmosphere of the
condenser, which causes an absolute pressure of 1 lb. per
square inch, less or more; in the other case, the natural
atmosphere, having a higher absolute pressure of 14’7 lb.,
or, in round numbers, 15 lb. per square inch. The action
of steam is developed, in its most simple form, in the non¬
condensing engine, in which the question of the vacuum
has no part; and the writer will, therefore, open the inquiry
with a summary of his experimental analysis of the beha¬
viour of steam in non-condensing engines, chiefly of the
locomotive class, first published in 1851, in Railway Ma¬
chinery.
In illustration of the function and utility of the indicator,
by means of which most of the writer’s observations were
conducted, examples of indicator-diagrams, obtained by
the writer from one of the cylinders of a locomotive, are
illustrated in fig. 133. The base line A b is the line of
atmospheric pressure, and represents the stroke of the pis¬
ton ; and the rectangular space above it may be supposed
to be the interior of the cylinder. The heavily lined figure
is a diagram of the indicated action of the steam, when the
piston moved in the cylinder at an average slow speed of
597
The Indi¬
cator-
Diagram.
r
598 STEAM-
Behaviour 40 feet per minute, and shows, by its angularity, how the
of Steam steam js controlled by the valve, and the precise points of
Cylinder ^ie stro^e at which the changes of the distribution take
v y place. The piston is represented as having started from
the right hand end of the cylinder, under a uniform pres¬
sure of 61 lb. steam above the atmosphere, traced from the
upper right hand corner, till it reaches the point of sup¬
pression. The admission being terminated, the period of
expansion is commenced, the pressure declines as the pis¬
ton advances before the expanding steam, and continues to
do so till the piston reaches the point of release. At this
point the piston enters on its third and last stage of proo-ress
toward the end of the steam-stroke; the steam, primarily
admitted at 61 lb. above the atmosphere, and attenuated
to 23 lb. pressure previously to being released, quickly dis¬
charges itself into the atmosphere, in virtue of its remain¬
ing elasticity, and is entirely evacuated before the end of
the stroke, as indicated by the quick and total decline of
the steam-line during the period of exhaust towards the
point b. The evacuation is, however, only relative, not
absolute, as steam of atmospheric pressure remains in the
cylinder, though not obviously sensible in the indicator-
diagram ; during the return stroke, therefore, the valve
ought to maintain the exhausted end of the cylinder con¬
tinuously open, to allow the steam of one atmosphere to
escape before the returning piston, and the benefit of this
provision is proved by the diagram, in which it appears that
during the continuation of the exhaust the steam of latent
pressure remains at the zero point of the scale. At the
instant of closing or compression, however, when there is
no longer an exit for the latent steam before the piston,
the diagram-line slopes upwards towards the right hand side,
and the steam is compressed against the end of the cylinder.
While the volume of the compressed steam is being thus
forcibly reduced, the density is increased, the pressure is
raised, until the accumulation of back-pressure so induced
is merged into the superior pressure of the steam admitted
by anticipation for the business of the next steam-stroke.
1 he point at which this irruption of pressure occurs is in¬
dicated by the small compartment a in the figure, repre¬
senting the “period of pre-admission;” instantly the pres¬
sure mounts to the maximum initial pressure of 61 lb., in
readiness for the succeeding steam-stroke.
The behaviour of the steam in the cylinder may thus,
with the aid of the indicator-diagram, be clearly traced
through the cycle of changes. The period of admission,
in the example just described is, it appears, about one-
third of the whole stroke; that of expansion is something
more, and a simple inspection of the diagram shows that,
in this instance, one-half of the work of the steam is per¬
formed by simple expansion while shut up in the cylinder.
Even the period of exhaust supplies its quota of effect, in¬
asmuch as the evacuation is a work of time, and the extra
positive pressure so yielded is represented by the small
triangular space between the point of release and the end
of the stroke. The force developed by compression is pro¬
perly designated resistance, as it is opposed to the motion
of the piston, and must be classed with the slight opposi¬
tion also made by the entering steam during its pre-ad¬
mission for the steam-stroke.
But the important inquiry remains to be urged, How is
the behaviour of the steam affected by the speed of the
piston ? If the piston move slowly, there is plenty of time
for the steam to go about its mechanical duties. While
the steam is admitted, it follows up the piston at full pres¬
sure; while the exhaust is open, it thoroughly evacuates
itself. But at higher speed, the time for each evolution is
proportionally shortened; and it remains to be considered,
in what way this acceleration of duty is discharged. The
dotted-line diagram, fig. 133, illustrates the behaviour of the
steam in the same cylinder, under the altered circumstance
ENGINE.
of a higher speed of piston, averaging 310 feet per minute, Behavi0l;
other circumstances being the same. The steam enters at of Stean
an initial pressure of 62 lb. per square inch, but suffers a in the
slight reduction of pressure as the piston recedes before it Cy?inder
—a circumstance which may at once be attributed to the dur-in? ^
accelerating speed of the piston in the cylinder, specifically
due to the nature of the crank-motion, and the conse-
quently greater difficulty of following it. The difficulty,
however, is not considerable, and it is only when the piston
nears the point of suppression, and the port is nearly closed
by the valve, that the pressure rapidly falls in the diagram
towards the suppression-line. This is a case of simple
wire-drawing, as the opening of the port, previously wide
enough to admit all the steam that could find its way into
the cylinder, against the frictional resistance and bends of
the passage, is now reduced to the minimum width con¬
sistent with this condition, and a further contraction and
final closing necessarily occasions an accelerated fall of the
pressure. The pressure at the instant of suppression, or
cut off, under these circumstances, is 54 lb. above the
atmosphere. The curve descends during the period of ex¬
pansion, and cuts the line of release at a pressure of 19 lb.,
and on reaching the end of the stroke it attains a minimum
of 2 lb. pressure. The curve of expansion, it appears,
runs into those of the admission and the exhaust without
any of the abruptness which distinguishes the slow dia¬
gram ; the fact being that, before the steam was nominally
cut off, expansion, technically so called, had begun—a
result implied in wire-drawing—and there was therefore
not the same liability to sudden change of pressure on
entering the period of simple expansion. At the termina¬
tion of the period of expansion, the curve crosses the ex¬
haust line nearly at right angles, and barely reaches the
minimum pressure at the termination of the stroke. The
comparative delay so evinced in the accomplishment of the
exhaust, is plainly a consequence of the shorter time al¬
lowed for this purpose by the greater speed of the piston ;
and, accordingly, we perceive a material accession to the
area of the diagram, or the useful effect of the steam, in
the very circumstance that it exhausts less freely. On the
other hand, a drawback on this additional effect exists in
the sustained back-pressure of 2 lb. per square inch, as in¬
dicated during the return stroke, referable to the same
cause, imperfect exhaustion. The exhaust-line runs into
the compression-line w ith a slight bend; and it is observ¬
able, that before the pre-admission takes place, the com¬
pressed steam attains to a higher pressure than that found
by the slow diagram, a circumstance referable to conden¬
sation of steam in the cylinder at the low speed, which wrill
be fully considered. But, though the curve of high speed
is in advance of that of the low speed at the instant of
admission of fresh steam, it falls behind at the commence¬
ment of the stroke; at this point the pressure does not get
beyond 51 lb. above the atmosphere, and only attains the
maximum, 62 lb., w hen the piston has described half an
inch of the steam-stroke. This deficiency is attributable
chiefly to the shortness of time allowed for the re-estab-
lishrnent of the working pressure, and indicates the need
for more lead of the valve.
CHAP. IY. THE BEHAVIOUR OF STEAM IN THE CYLINDER
DURING ADMISSION.
In the flow of steam from the boiler to the cylinder it meets
with hindrances to its passage which usually operate to cause
a considerable reduction of pressure when it reaches the
cylinder, even if all the passages be thrown wide open.
The actual charge of steam transmitted through an irregular
passage of considerable length, and of a given sectional area,
is, in all cases, less than what can be passed through an
aperture, of a very short length, as in a thin plate of the
STEAM-ENGINE.
599
lehaviour same sectional area, owing to the bends and lateral friction
,f Steam of the long passage. It, therefore, frequently happens, that
in the the opening of the port allowed by the valve, though it may
>yljnd- be much less than the total area of the port, is sufficiently
url"f^ large to pass all the steam that can force its way along the
^ passage. 1 ms tact is constantly exemplified in practice ;
it is known that opening the port beyond a certain amount,
in all cases less than the area of the port itself, ceases to be
advantageous in facilitating the passage of the steam into
the cylinder. Similarly, the opening of the regulator, or
“ throttle-valve,” beyond a small fraction of the sectional
area of the steam-pipe, does not add to the available
pressure at the valve-chest. When the steam is not dry,
or contains water in suspension, the labour of moving in
passages is greatly increased, owing to the quantity of dead
inelastic weight to be dragged along, and the reduction of
pressure is consequently much more than with dry steam.
Directing attention, for the present, to the behaviour of
steam within the cylinder, it is to be premised that, not¬
withstanding the objections that have been urged against
the ordinary slide-valve, worked by eccentric-motion, for
want of sufficient celerity of action, there is no material
wire-drawing of steam by the closing valve, when the
period of admission exceeds two-thirds of the stroke, unless
at very high speeds of piston, exceeding 500 to 600 feet per
minute. When the steam is cut off at shorter periods, how¬
ever, the travel of the valve being less, and therefore also
its velocity of motion, the wire-drawing increases at high
speeds, though at low speeds it does not. For example,
the indicator-diagrams, fig. 134, were taken from a locomo¬
tive-cylinder, 18 inches diameter, 24 inches stroke ; steam-
ports, 13 inches by 2 inches ; exhaust-port, 13 by 3^- inches ;
lap of valve outside, inch; inside, inch. Each
figure shows three diagrams for periods of admission, re¬
spectively 16, Ilf, and 7 inches of the stroke, the termi¬
nations of which, and of the expansions, are pointed off on
the figures ; for the first figure the speed of piston was 240
feet per minute ; for the second, 770 feet per minute. The
wire-drawing at the lower speed was obviously nothing ; at
the higher speed, the pressure fell 3 lb., 12 lb., and 25 lb.,
below the initial pressure before the steam was cut off.
This shows that the wire-drawing increased very much in
proportion as the steam was cut off earlier—doubtless ex¬
plained by the fact, that, in the three cases, the travel of
the valves was, respectively, 4f, 3ff, 3/^, inches; and the
maximum opening of the port was 1^, nearly, and ^
inch. It was found, however, that, in the third case, with
the shortest admission, the steam line was practically straight
and parallel to the atmospheric line, at speeds of piston up
to 450 feet per minute. In inferiorly arranged engines, with
short lap and short travel of valve, wire-drawing is consid¬
erably greater than in the example just illustrated. With
the same sizes of cylinders, a |- inch lap wire-draws con¬
siderably more than 1 inch lap of valve.
Long lap, in conjunction with wide ports, reduces the
wire-drawing to a minimum. The more dry the steam is,
the more susceptible it is of apparent wire-drawing, as in¬
dicated in the cylinder, because dry steam enters the cylin¬
der more freely than wet steam, and attains a higher initial
pressure.
As to the quantity of lead of the valve needful to insure
ample and timely admission of steam into the cylinder at
the commencement of the stroke, one-fifth of the length of Behaviour
the steam-port is sufficient. When the lead is excessive, steam
the steam is admitted so readily as to be momentarily com- cin..tl\e
pressed, and to cause, in some cases, an unfavourable pul- during ex-
satory action of the steam. The total absence of lead like- pansion.
wise occasions an unsteady pulsatory pressure in the cylin-
der. If lead is deficient, or wanting, the maximum pres¬
sure of steam in the cylinder is not attained until after a
portion of the stroke is travelled by the piston.
CHAP. V. THE BEHAVIOUR OF STEAM IN THE CYLINDER
DURING EXPANSION.
When steam is admitted into the cylinder, while the latter
is comparatively cold, or colder than the steam, a very sen¬
sible condensation of the steam takes place during admis¬
sion, in the process of heating the cylinder to the tempera¬
ture of the steam, which continues to a certain extent dur¬
ing the period of expansion. A portion of this heat, though
but a small part, passes off and is lost; the remainder is
retained by the cylinder until it is re-absorbed by the pre¬
cipitated steam during the expansion of the remaining
steam, if it be long enough continued—that is, until the
temperature of the latter falls below that of the cylinder.
This is a destructive process, occasioning an absolute loss
of steam, and the amount of steam thus injuriously precipi¬
tated, and but partially revived, increases rapidly in propor¬
tion as the steam is earlier cut off and expansion extended.
In the cylinders of ordinary steam-engines, the extra con¬
sumption and waste of steam devoted to the heating of the
cylinder in the first part of the stroke is above 12 per cent,
of the whole steam consumed for a period of admission of
one-third of the stroke. In exposed locomotive cylinders,
the loss has been proved to amount to nearly 40 per cent,
of the whole steam consumed, when cut off at an eighth of
the stroke.
This important species of loss is inseparable from the
attempt to work steam expansively where there is no provi¬
sion for the heating of the cylinder, and maintaining it at a
suitably high temperature, equal, at least, to the initial tem¬
perature of the steam. The magnitude of the loss is so
great as to defeat all such attempts at economy of fuel and
steam by expansive-working, and it affords a sufficient ex¬
planation of the fact, in engineering practice, that expan¬
sive-working has been found to be expensive working, and
that, in many cases, an absolutely greater quantity of fuel
has been consumed in extended expansive-working, while
less power is actually developed.
With respect to the ratio of pressure to expansion of
steam in cylinders, observed in ordinary practice, it may be
sufficient to remark in this place, that the quantity or weight
of steam in the cylinder is the same throughout the pro¬
cess of expansion, estimated in terms of the pressure and
the volume of the steam, as saturated at different points
of the stroke, when the steam is dry, and the tempera¬
ture of the cylinder is properly maintained ; and that, con¬
sequently, the pressure of expanding steam in a cylinder,
under such circumstances, may be determined with suffi¬
cient accuracy, for any degree of expansion, in terms of the
ascertained density of saturated steam. On the contrary,
in cylinders imperfectly heated, when the steam is partially
precipitated during admission, and during the first part of
the expansion, the expanding pressure at first declines more
rapidly than would be due to the maintenance of a constant
quantity of steam, and, afterwards less rapidly, rising above
the expanding line of pressure, proper for a constant weight
of steam, equal to that contained in the cylinder at the com¬
mencement of expansion. This want of conformity is ex¬
emplified in a diagram taken from an outside-cylinder loco¬
motive, with a stroke of 24 inches, at a low speed (fig. 135),
in which the dotted lines show the expansion-curve which
600
STEAM-ENGINE.
Behaviour would have been described with a constant weight of steam,
of Steam This process of successive conden-
in the sation and re-evaporation is dis-
during ex-indicated ; for, no sooner is
haustion. the steam cut off at A, than conden-
sation is made visible by the verti¬
cal sinking of the expansion-curve
below the standard or normal curve,
until the temperatures of the steam
and the material of the cylinder
become equal, when, as the pressure continues to fall, and
the temperature of the steam with it, the curve rises
and crosses the normal curve at c, in virtue of a partial re¬
evaporation of the steam previously precipitated, caused by
the cylinder itself, which, at first colder than the steam, and
heated by it in the first stage of the expansion, is then rela¬
tively hotter, and partially restores the heat of which it had
previously robbed the steam. The process of restoration
of heat goes on to the end of the expansion, as farther
proved by the increasing excess of the indicated above the
normal pressure at the point D, amounting to above 10 lb.
per square inch at the point of exhaustion.
That the condensing power of an unprotected cylinder
is something very considerable, is rendered very obvious
by an indicator-diagram (fig. 136),
taken from the same cylinder, in full
gear, at a low speed, shortly after
starting with a train. It shows that
the pressure could not be maintained
in the cylinder, as condensation in
heating the cylinder proceeded faster
than steam could be supplied through
the opening of the port. Had the cylinder been hot, the
pressure would have been fully maintained, according to
the dotted line.
Fig. 136.
CHAP. VI.—THE BEHAVIOUR OF STEAM IN THE CYLINDER
DURING EXHAUSTION.
In no part of the distribution is the advantage of time
more apparent than during the period of exhaust. It is
plain, by reference to figs. 133 and 134, that the steam does
not discharge itself instantaneously from the cylinder at
the point of release, as the piston, in all the diagrams, has
visibly to go some distance before the pressure falls to a
minimum. In fig. 133, at the lower speed, the piston
moves 3^ inches from the point at which the steam is re¬
leased to the point at which the pressure falls to the atmo¬
spheric line. At the higher speed, the steam only reaches
the minimum pressure of 2 lb., when the piston has at¬
tained to the end of the stroke, through 5 inches of the
cylinder. These are elementary proofs of the benefit of time
for insuring a good exhaust.
As the velocity of steam, escaping uninterruptedly, would
practically suffice to evacuate the cylinder in good time, to
prevent the evil of back-pressure, there is no doubt that
the back-pressure which does actually arise is owing to the
circumstantial hindrance of mixed water, strictures, bends,
and friction. The retarded motion of the piston towards
the end of the stroke, in virtue of the action of the crank,
is peculiarly favourable for the exhaustion of the steam,
as it allows time for its escape before the piston returns
upon it. At the higher speeds, however, the escaping
steam may be overtaken, and driven before the piston
into the atmosphere, should its remaining elasticity prove
insufficient, and then an opposing back-pressure is esta¬
blished. The wider the lead for the exhaust, the less is
the back-pressure, on account of the increased facility for
escape. For the usual speeds of pistons of stationary en¬
gines, about 300 feet per minute, the back-pressure is prac¬
tically unimportant, if the cylinder be properly heated and
in the
Cylinder
during ex.
haustion.
Fig. 137.
the steam dry. On the contrary, the back-pressure is very Behaviour
great when the steam is condensed within the cylinder, of Steam
or if it be loaded with water by priming. Fig. 137 shows. ' “
in contrast, the evil of condensation
in a cylinder, in causing back-pres¬
sure. In the one case, the steam
admitted at 80 lb. pressure above the
atmosphere is cut off at one-sixth of
the stroke, and exhausted at half¬
stroke, yet it is so loaded with water,
when discharged, that it incurs a back¬
pressure of 12 lb. per inch in being expelled by the piston,
moving at an average speed of 430 feet per minute. In the
other case, illustrated in the same figure, the steam was ad¬
mitted in a much greater volume, though half the stroke,
at a speed of piston of 580 feet per minute, whilst the ex¬
haust-pressure fell to about 2£ lb. per square inch. The
cylinder had been previously heated by hard work, the
steam was comparatively dry, and the opposing pressure
was, consequently, almost entirely removed.
The ordinary effect of the priming of muddy water from
a locomotive boiler is illustrated by fig. 138, in which are
shown indicator-diagrams, taken from
the cylinder immediately previous and
subsequent to blowing off the boiler
when the water had been unusually im¬
pure, at the same speed of piston, about
600 feet per minute. The full line
was described before, and the dot-line
after the boiler was supplied with clean Fi2-138-
water; and other circumstances being the same, the back¬
pressure fell from 9 lb. to about 1£ lb. per square inch
above the atmosphere. In some cases, the priming of water
into the cylinder has been found to reduce the effective pres¬
sure more than a half.
The blast-pipe of locomotives should be larger in sec¬
tional area than the steam-passages in the cylinder, in order
to discharge the steam with facility. The orifice of the
blast-pipe should not be less, and it need not be greater
than the smallest part of the passage from the cylinder ; if
smaller, it increases back-pressure.
Summary of data as to Back-pressure.—If the steam
working in steam-engines could escape freely, without re¬
sistance, the back-pressure would be simply the pressure
of the atmosphere, in non-condensing engines ; and, in con¬
densing engines, it would be the pressure corresponding to
the temperature in the condenser—what Professor Rankine
calls the “ pressure of condensation.” The mean back¬
pressure, however, always—sometimes considerably—ex¬
ceeds the pressure of condensation. One cause of this, in
condensing engines, is the presence of air mixed with the
steam, which causes the pressure in the condenser, and also
the back-pressure, to be greater than the pressure of con¬
densation of the steam. The ordinary temperature in the
condenser, in proper working order, is about 104° Fahr., for
which the pressure is 1'06 lb. per square inch ; whilst the
actual pressure in the best condensers of ordinary engines
may be scarcely ever less than 2 lb. on the square inch.
The principal cause, however, of increased back-pressure
is resistance to the escape of the steam from the cylinder,
amounting to from 1 to 3 lb. per inch greater than the
pressure in the condenser. Professor Rankine thus sum¬
marises the ordinary results of observation on the back¬
pressure in condensing engines :—
Mean Back-pressure.
Ratio of expansion from 1J to 3 5 lb. per square inch.
Ditto 4 to 7 4J to 3J lb. „
Ditto 8 to 15 3£ to 3 lb. „
There is no doubt that, practically, in condensing engines,
the back-pressure increases with the speed of the engine,
and also with the density of the exhausted steam, and with
STEAM-ENGINE.
the Boiler,
t
Relative the size of the exhaust-ports. In non-condensing locomo-
Pressure of tive-engines, Mr D. K. Clark, in Railway Machinery, has
Steam in foun(j t]iat the excess of back-pressure above the atmo-
spheric pressure vanes nearly as the square of the speed ;—
as the pressure of the exhaust-steam at the commencement
of the exhaust;—and inversely as the square of the area of
the orifice of the blast-pipe ; that it is less, the greater the
ratio of expansion ; that it is less, the longer the time
during which the exhaustion of the steam lasts ; and that
it is increased by the presence of liquid water amongst the
steam.
601
CHAP. VII.—RELATIVE PRESSURES OF STEAM IN THE
BOILER, THE VALVE-CHEST, AND THE CYLINDER.
As in the cylinder, so in the intermediate thoroughfares
between that and the boiler, the movements of steam are
affected by the conditions of dryness, as well as by the size
and form of the passages. In well-protected cylinders,
with dry steam, and ports -j^g-th of the area of the piston,
the fall of pressure, or wire-drawing, in the cylinder-passages
is about 16 per cent, of the pressure in the valve-chest, at a
speed of piston of 600 feet per minute; and with a port
T1^-th the area of the piston, the fall of pressure does not ex¬
ceed 10 per cent, at any speed. An example of the rela¬
tive indicated pressures in the valve-chest and the cylinder
of a locomotive is shown in fig. 139, when the former is re¬
presented to have oscillated above ^
5 lb. per square inch.
In imperfectly protected cylin¬
ders, when the steam is not dry,
the fall of pressure varies from 20
to 40 per cent. The fall of pres¬
sure in passing through pipes less
than T\-th of the piston in area, may
be from one-third to one-fourth ;
in a pipe of -j^th the piston, the
Fig. 139.
fall is inconsiderable.
If the steam be highly dried, a pipe of ordinary length, -j^th
the area of piston, is sufficient to transmit the steam undi¬
minished in pressure.
The greatest useful opening of the regulator does not
exceed ^th the area of the piston. A greater opening is
not found to add to the facility of transmission.
SECTION ///.—MEASUREMENT OF POWER—HORSE¬
POWER.
CHAP. I.—MEASUREMENT OF WORK DONE IN THE CYLINDER
FROM THE INDICATOR-DIAGRAM—FRICTION-BRAKES.
Definition of Work.—Work is an exertion of pressure
through space. The unit by which quantities of work are
measurable is the labour necessary to raise one pound
weight through the height of one foot—that is, a foot-pound.
The rate at which work is done is expressed in horse-power,
and one horse-power is equivalent to work done at the rate
of 33,000 lb. raised through one foot in one minute of
time, or 33,000 foot-pounds—that is, one horse-power is
expressed by the performance of 33,000 units of work per
minute. The rather odd number 33,000 was adopted by
the fathers of steam-engines, for the measure of power,
because it was actually the measure of the performance of
an average working-horse, under favourable circumstances;
and though it was a useful and convenient measure at the
time of its adoption, when horses rivalled steam-engines,
the number 33,000 is only now retained because it is in¬
convenient to alter what has continued for so long a pe¬
riod to be the standard measure of power.
Ihe indicator-diagram represents the active pressure
and the back-pressure per square inch exerted by the
VOL, xx.
steam on one face of the piston. During one stroke of the Measure-
piston, therefore, if the steam-pressure be supposed to be ment of
exerted uniformly throughout the stroke, and if there be WmA done
no back-pressure, the work done would be simply expressed
by the product of the whole pressure on the piston in lbs. v. ^ m
into the stroke in feet. The diagram expressing such an ” v-"-
uniform exertion of force would necessarily be rectangular,
and the product of its length in feet by its weight in lbs.,
measured by scale, would be an expression of its area, and
would express the work done for one stroke per square inch
of piston. If an uniform back-pressure were indicated, it
would form a deduction from the useful pressure; and the
difference of height representing power and resistance on
the diagram, would be the effective pressure, which, multi¬
plied by the length, would express, as before, the useful area
ot the diagram, or the useful work done per square inch of
piston.
But, in practice, the lines of positive-pressure and back¬
pressure on the diagram are not straight but curved.
These conditions involve a preliminary process of reduction
before the area of the diagram can be estimated, and the
work for one stroke determined. Let the diagram be
divided vertically into a sufficient number of parts by a
series of parallels, drawn at equal distances across the figure
transversely to the atmospheric line, representing the stroke
of the piston ; measure the mean effective pressure in each
section by the scale, take the sum of the pressures thus
found, and divide by the number of divisions of the dia¬
gram. I he quotient is the effective mean pressure per unit
of surface for the whole diagram. Multiply the effective
mean pressure per unit of surface thus found by the area
of the piston in the same units of surface, say square inches,
and by the length of stroke in feet, and the resulting pro¬
duct expresses the whole effective work done upon the whole
surface of the piston for one stroke. Reduce, in a similar
manner, a second indicator-diagram for the other face of
the piston, and take the mean of the two expressions of
work done ; or assume for a double-acting engine that the
same quantity of work is done in the alternate stroke, multi¬
ply by the number of single strokes of the piston per minute,
and divide by 33,000; the resulting quotient expresses the
indicator horse-power of the engine.
If there be two or more cylinders to the engine, the
power must be found in the same way for each cylinder,
and the whole added into one sum, to express the entire
indicator-power. But the simplest way in dealing with
two or more cylinders, of equal diameters and strokes,
working on a common main-shaft, is, first, to find from
indicator-diagrams the average effective mean pressure on
the whole surface of the piston, for all the cylinders ; second,
to multiply that by the length of the stroke, and by 2, and
by the number of revolutions of the shaft per minute, and
by the number of cylinders; third, to divide this product
by 33,000. The quotient is the indicator horse-power.
On the contrary, should the cylinders be various in their
functions, as in compound engines, in which a non-con¬
densing and a condensing cylinder are combined, or should
they be differently connected to the main-shaft, or have
different diameters or lengths of stroke, it is better to find
the power for each cylinder singly, and subsequently to
sum the powers together, to find the whole. There is an
advantage in this method of procedure, that the contribu¬
tion of each cylinder, or class of cylinder, to the aggregate
of power may be distinguished.
The friction-dynamometer measures the useful work
done by a prime mover, by causing the whole of that work
to be expended in overcoming the friction of a brake.
The magnitude of the work done may be measured by a
weight or a spring, as in Prony’s dynamometer, in which
the moving shaft or pulley is embraced by friction-blocks
commanded by a lever weighted at the end.
4 G
602
Horse-
Power of
Engines.
ENGINE.
the piston, its area, and the mean effective pressure. The Horse-
mean speed is based on the stroke and the number of revo- Power of
lutions in a given time; and as a given number of revolu- Boilers.
tions is usually required, the formula should contain these
two data individually. The effective pressure, also, is the
result of the positive and negative pressures, in the boiler on
the one part, and the exhaust-pressure on the other part,
with the additional element of expansive-working.
Actual horse-power, reckoned according to the principle
with which Mr Watt originally started, of dealing with
actual quantities, should constitute the basis of a revised
code of' rules for nominal power. There are two forms in
which it may be reckoned: as the indicator horse-power,
or the power communicated to the piston, undiminished
by friction, measured by the indicator; or as the power
delivered at the main or crank-shaft, measured by the
brake, which is less than the indicator-power by as much
as the friction of the mechanism of the engine employed in
transmitting the power from the piston. For commercial
purposes, the friction of the engine should be a consid¬
eration.
The indicator horse-power of a cylinder, reckoned in
terms of the effective mean pressure in lbs. per square-inch
on the piston, the diameter in inches, the stroke in feet, and
the revolutions per minute, is computed thus :—
STEAM-
CHAP. II.—HORSE-POWER OF ENGINES.
Horse-power is the term employed to express the capa¬
city, magnitude, or power of an engine. It sprung from
the actual measure of horse-power originally adopted by
Mr Watt—namely, the performance of work at the rate of
33,000 foot-pounds or units of work per hour ; or the
raising of 33,000 pounds, 1 foot high, per hour. From the
desire to give over-measure, just as the hundredweight
rose from the original 100 lb. weight to 112 lb., as well as
from the scanty means of exactly gauging the real power
of engines, the horse-power rose to two, three, four, or five
times that of actual horse-power ; and thus, commercially,
real or actual horse-power was altogether disregarded, and
was replaced by what is called “ nominal horse-power,” the
estimation of which is based simply upon the dimensions of
the cylinder. “ Nominal horse-power” is not, then, in any
sense, horse-power, but is a commercial unit of capacity
or power of performance, to fix the magnitude of the en¬
gine, and the price which is to be paid for it. But, even
nominal power is not estimated by any uniform standard ;
individual manufacturers and others adopt different mea¬
sures, and a uniform and universally recognised measure of
power is a desideratum.
Different rules are applied to condensing and to non-con¬
densing engines, the effect of which is to give a larger al¬
lowance of capacity to the former than to the latter. For
condensing engines, the following are a few of the rules in
use:—
Boulton and Watt’s Buie.—Assume the speed of the
piston to be 128 feet per minute, multiplied by the cube
root of the length of stroke in feet; and the mean effective
pressure to be 7 lb. per square inch. Then, nominal horse-
stroke in feet x diameter8 in inches . ,
power = — ~~6(j   ^ Bis riBe
is much in use in the south of England, and to some extent
in Manchester.
Manchester Rule.—The common rule is to allow 23
square inches of piston per nominal horse-power; or, nominal
, area of piston in inches „ nr. .
horse-power = ^3 ’ Occasionally, 30 is
used for the divisor.
Leeds Rule.—This rule is taken in terms of circular
inches of piston, or the simple square of the diameter, al¬
lowing 30 per nominal horse-power; thus, nominal horse-
diameter2 in inches r™ • • „ ,
power =  * 1ms is, practically, almost
oO
identical with the Manchester rule, as 30 circular inches are
equal to 24 square inches.
For non-condensing engines, the usual rules are as fol¬
low :—
Manchester Rule.—Ten square inches of piston are al¬
lowed per nominal horse-power; or, nominal horse-power =
area of piston in in dies #
10
Leeds Rule.—Sixteen circular inches are allowed; thus,
. , , diameter2 in inches
nominal horse-power =  .
Glasgow Rule.—Square the diameter of piston in inches,
and point off the unit figure. The result is the nominal
horse-power. This is the same in form as the Manchester
rule, as it is essentially a process of division by 10. The
Leeds rule is more liberal than the other, as 16 circular
inches are equal to about 13 square inches.
For compound engines, having both non-condensing and
condensing cylinders, it is the custom in Leeds to throw in
the small or non-condensing cylinder, taking no account of
it, and to rule from the condensing cylinder only.
The elements of a sound and comprehensive rule for the
power of steam-engines must comprise the mean speed of
T , , pressure x diam.2 x •7854 x stroke x 2 x No. of turns.
Ind.-h.-p. =  
 pressure X diam.2 x stroke x No. of turns
” — 21,000 *
 pressure x area x stroke x 2 x No. of turns
” 33,000 ’
CHAP. III.—HORSE-POWER OF BOILERS.
The nominal horse-power of boilers is reckoned variously
*—from the lineal, and from the superficial, dimensions.
The old waggon boiler was reckoned at the rate of l foot
in length per nominal horse-power. For ordinary cylindri¬
cal boilers without internal flues, 5^ to 6—usually 6—square
feet of horizontal area is allowed per nominal horse-power,
the area being taken as the product of the diameter by the
length in feet. For boilers having one or two internal fire-
tubes, or “ Cornish boilers,” the diameter of the flue-tube
is added to that of the shell to find the proper multiplier.
Galloway allows only 5J to 4 square feet of horizontal area
in his boilers, as they have upright water-tubes in the flues,
available as heating surface.
Again, reckoning by superficies, 15 square feet of heat¬
ing surface, and 1 square foot of fire-grate, are commonly
allowed per nominal horse-power; the heating surface com¬
prising the actual area of the shell exposed to heat, but only
the upper half of the internal flues. For multitubular boilers,
of the locomotive type, 16 to 20 square feet of the total
heating or exposed surface, and or ^ square foot of
fire-grate, are allowed per nominal horse-power; that is,
more heating surface, because it is not considered so effec¬
tive, and less grate used, because the draft is stronger than
in Cornish boilers.
SECTION 7F.—CLASSIFICATION OF STEAM-ENGINES,
WITH EXAMPLES.
The modern steam-engine, comprising under this gene¬
ral designation, the engine proper, and the boiler and fur¬
nace, has been moulded into many varieties of form, accord¬
ing to the systems on which it has been constructed, and
the various uses to which it has been applied. Irrespective
of the uses to which engines are applied, they are distin¬
guished into the two great classes of condensing engines,
STEAM-ENGINE.
603
Stationary and non-condensing engines; the former exhausting the
Beam- used steam into an artificial atmosphere of low pressure ;
Engines. {Pg latter exhausting into the natural atmosphere of 14'7
lb. pressure per square inch. The former class is usually
more efficient in the production of power from fuel than
the latter; but the latter has fewer parts and is simpler in
design.
The second classification is based on the uses to which
steam-engines are applied, thus:—First, stationary-engines,
placed in permanent situations, for driving factory-ma¬
chinery, pumping water, &c. Second, portable-engines,
placed on wheels, or transportable, to be shifted to the scene
of operations, to do the work of stationary-engines. Third,
locomotive-engines, for propelling vehicles on land, chiefly
on railways. Fourth, marine-engines, for propelling vessels
on water. With the first, second, and third, it is the pro¬
vince of this article to deal; the fourth is reserved for a
separate article.
CHAP. I.—STATIONARY BEAM-ENGINES.
Stationary beam-engines are usually made with con¬
densers, and may be typified by the large engines erected
by Messrs William Fairbairn and Sons, Manchester, to
drive the machinery for preparing, spinning, and weaving
alpaca fabrics, at the Saltaire Mills, near Bradford, the
property of Mr Titus Salt. The engines are arranged in
two pairs, to obtain the requisite uniformity of action, and
are placed in large engine-houses on either side of the
front entrance to the buildings; and they are supplied with
steam from boilers placed in a boiler-house beneath the
surface of the ground, and a short distance in front of the
mills, according to the general plan and sectional elevations
of the engine and boiler houses, Plate XVTII. The follow¬
ing is Mr Fairbairn’s account of the Saltaire engines and
boilers:—
The Engines.—“ Plate XIX. contains a side elevation of
one of these engines, giving a general view of the arrange¬
ment of the parts. The power generated in the cylinders
C, and transmitted through the working beam B B, to the
large spur-flywheel w, 24 feet in diameter, is taken direct
from its circumference by the pinions p, p, which give it off
at the required velocity to the shafting of the mill.
“ The working beam is supported on two massive
columns c, 16 feet high, 14^ inches in least diameter, and
inch thick of metal; these columns are bolted down
beneath the whole mass of masonry supporting the engine.
The heavy entablature e bolted to each column, and to the
columns of the adjoining engine, is firmly fixed in the
walls of the engine-house on each side, and the spring-
beams A, A, over this and at right angles with it, are similarly
attached to the cross-beams, b, b. In this way an exceed¬
ingly strong and rigid support is secured for the main
centre of the engine, which, resting in its pedestal a, has to
sustain the principal strain of working. The spaces be¬
tween the spring-beams and walls, excepting where the
main beam vibrates, are filled with ornamental perforated
iron-plates forming the beam-room, approached by the
staircase/, for the purpose of oiling the centres, repairs, &c.
The working-beam receives its motion from the piston-rod
g, through the parallel motion h h, and transmits it by the
connecting-rod r and crank G to the fly-wheel w.
“ The steam is brought from the boilers through a pro¬
longation of the tunnel in which the smoke passes to the
chimney, and enters the engine-house by the pipe D.
Having thence been admitted to the cylinder through the
valve-chests kk, it repasses, after it has completed its work,
to the condenser h, through the eduction-pipe E, in
the usual way. The condenser is supplied with cold
water from the river Aire, by the pipe k k, which com¬
municates with the cold water cistern j ; the injector
through which the water enters is in these engines 6 Stationary
inches in diameter, but the supply of water may be Beam-
diminished if necessary by the injection gear hereafter Engines,
described. Beside the condenser is the air-pump, for
pumping out the water and the air which enters with the
water into the condenser, and is worked by the rod 11 from
a part of the parallel motion. A pump to supply the
cold-water cistern is worked by the rod n, and another
pump is worked by the rod pp, by which part of the hot
water from the condenser is pumped back again for the
supply of the boilers, in proportion as the water in them is
decreased by the evaporation into steam. The supply of
steam to the engine is regulated by the governor N acting
on the throttle-valve q, and thus the speed of the engine
is kept uniform. A shaft ss, receiving motion from a
bevel-wheel on the crank-shaft, works the equilibrium
valves in the valve-chests kk, as will be described, tt is
a flooring or stage by which access is gained to the cylinder
covers for oiling and cleaning. The cylinder is 50 inches
in internal diameter, and has 7 feet stroke; it stands on
the circular cylinder bottom c', which is firmly bolted to
the masonry by the long holding-down bolts r r.
“ Plate XIX. contains also a plan of one engine-house,
showing the relative arrangement of one pair of engines.
The length of this house is 50 feet, and its breadth 24
feet. It will be seen that the two engines are combined so
as to act in concert upon the same crank-shaft and fly¬
wheel, the cranks being placed at right angles to each
other, that, when one engine is passing its top and bottom
centres, and exerting least power, the other is in mid¬
stroke, and exerting its whole power upon the full leverage
of the crank. In this way the action of the engines is
equalised, and the motion rendered smoother than is pos¬
sible with an independent engine, whilst, in case of acci¬
dent to either of the pair, its fellow may be employed alone
until the damage is made good.
“ Plate XX. exhibits a half elevation and half section of
the valve-chests, condensers, air-pumps, &c., showing the
valves and the manner of working them. As before, C C
are the cylinders, c'c' the cylinder-bottoms, kk the upper,
and r'k' the lower valve-chests, fixed right over the
cylinder ports, and communicating by the side-pipes 11'.
d D steam-pipe, h h condensers, l l air-pumps; m hot-well,
into which the air-pump lifts the water accumulating in the
condenser; this water passes away by the overflow-pipe m;
p,p,p, feed-pipes for supplying the boilers, with an air-
vessel p for equalising the pressure and preventing injury
to the pipes from sudden shocks; u injection-cock and in-
jecter, the quantity of water admitted being regulated by
the injection-cock, worked by the hand-wheel f, through
the medium of the small shafts and bell-cranks n, n.
“ The valves in these engines are of a peculiar construc¬
tion, being modifications of the double beat or equilibrium
valve, invented by Mr Hornblower, and generally employed
in the mining engines in Cornwall, where the high price of
coal has led to that rigid economy for which its engineers
have long been justly famous. We believe Mr Fairbairn
was the first to introduce and advocate the present system
of high steam worked expansively for factory engines,
which he accomplished (not without considerable opposition
on the part of those for whose benefit it was designed) by
perseverance, and with the assistance of an active trade
competition, driving the manufacturers to greater economy.
It has now become general, much to the advantage of
manufacturers, where the same amount of work is accom¬
plished with half the quantity of fuel. Most of the appli¬
ances for using steam expansively in rotative engines are
open to the objections—first, of wire-drawing the steam ;
second, of cutting it off too slowly ; and third, of leaving
too much space between the cut-off valve and the cylinder,
whereby much steam is wasted without producing any
604
STEAM-ENGINE*
StatidMry effect. To remedy these defects, Mr Fairbairn employs
Bearn- the shafts and expansion apparatus shown in the plates,
Engines. which are applicable to all rotative engines working ex-
ni pansively, whether with high or low pressure-steam.
“ The steam entering the upper steam-chest K, through
the stop-valve a, has free access also to the lower steam-
chest k through the side-pipe t, whilst the exhaust steam
has also clear access to the condenser through the other
side-pipe i. The steam is admitted to the cylinder from
the valve-boxes by means of the valves x and and after
havino- completed its work, it passes through the exhaust-
valves y and y to the condenser, these valves being opened
and shut alternately at the right instant by an apparatus
yet to be described. Each of the valves consists of two
single conical valves, carefully secured together and accu¬
rately fitting their seats, the lower valve being slightly
smaller than the upper. The steam is admitted on the
upper and lower side of each of these pairs of valves,
and presses in opposite directions, so that the downward
pressure on the upper valve is neutralized by the upward
pressure on the lower, excepting that a slight preponder¬
ance is given to the former in consequence of the difference
of area in the valves, in order to aid in keeping the valves
firmly pressed upon their seats when released by the cams.
Hence they lift with the greatest ease, and expose any
required opening for the admission of the steam.
“ The mode of working these valves is very simple ; a
shaft (ss, Plate XIX.) receives motion from the crank¬
shaft, and imparts it by the bevel-wheels bbto the horizontal-
shaft c c; this in turn gives motion to the valve-spindles
dd, which pass continuously through bearings in the valve-
chests, and are supported on footsteps on the brackets e e.
Upon each of these spindles are fixed two discs g g, carry¬
ing cams upon their upper surfaces so arranged as to lift
and release each valve at the proper instant of time. This
is effected by a direct and simple action ; the height of the
cam corresponds with the lift of the valve, its length with
the duration of the lift, and its position on the cam ring,
which revolves at the same rate as the crank-shaft regulates
the instant of time in the course of each stroke at which
the valve is opened. The action of the cams is transferred
to the valves through the medium of friction pulleys kkkk,
fixed upon small cross-heads, which are guided in their
upward and downward motion by the brass standards on
which they work. In the case of the steam-valve, these
pulleys are capable of adjustment by sliding along the
cross-head, so as to bring them over any section of cam
that may be required, and thus the steam may be cut oft'
at a J, or any required portion of the stroke, the re¬
mainder being effected by expansion.
“ The exhaust steam being a constant quantity requiring
a full opening into the condenser, it is desirable to retain
the exhaust-valve open during the whole length of the*
stroke. By the present arrangement, this is effected with
a greater degree of certainty than by any other means
hitherto proposed. The exhaust-valves rise suddenly upon
the short incline planes of the cams, and having allowed
time for the escape of the steam through a wide passage
to the condenser, they fall with equal celerity by their own
weight, and thus a more complete vacuum is formed under
the piston than is perhaps possible to obtain by any other
process.
“ The stop-valve a is a simple conical valve, worked
by a lever and hand-wheel z, fixed by a bracket to the side
of the steam-chest, and is chiefly used for shutting off the
steam from the engine.
“ The indicator-diagrams (figs. 140 and 141) were taken
from these engines on May 4, 1859. The engines were
then working at 25 revolutions per minute, and one pair
with part of the load off. The maximum vacuum varies
( fr°m ^3*0 to 13*2 lbs, per square inch below the atmo*
sphere ; the average vacuum is 12f lbs. per square inch. Stationary
Diameter of cylinder, 50 inches; area, 1963*50 square Beam-
inches ; speed of piston, 350 feet per minute. Engines.
“ From these diagrams we get—
Per Square Inch.
“ Engine A.—Mean pressure of steam lb.
Deduct for friction, air-pump, &c...=2,0000 „
Effective pressure  5-1684 „
Actual horses power ... 107-63
“ Engine B.—Mean pressure of steam =7-3646 lb.
Deduct for friction  2 0000 ,,
5-3646
Horses power =111-46
“ Engine C.—Mean pressure of steam =13.301 lb.
Deduct for friction  = 2 000 „
11-301
Horses power =235-34
“ Engine D.—Mean pressure of steam   12-946 lb.
Deduct for friction   2-000 „
10-946
Horses power  227-95
“ With a higher pressure of steam, however, or a shorter
expansion, these engines will work to a considerably higher
power.”
“ The Saltaire Boilers.—Plate XVIII. contains a general
plan of the boiler-house and boilers at Saltaire; and Plate
XX. contains enlarged sectional views of one of the boilers.
c',c', are the boilers, ten in number. They are 24 feet long
and 7 feet in diameter, and are of the description known as
multitubular. At b' the upper half of one boiler has been
removed so as to expose the flues in the interior, in which
the heat is generated; and at a' the whole boiler has been
removed to expose the arrangement of the flues beneath,
and the direction of the currents of heated gases as they
pass from the furnace to the chimney. The fire generated
in the fire-tubes a', d, passes into the mixing-chamber b',
where the air is thoroughly mixed with the flame and
smoke, to ensure as perfect a combustion as possible, and
thence the gaseous products pass through 109 small tubes,
3 inches in diameter, and descend at 6', b', into the brick¬
work flues beneath the boilers; thence following the direc¬
tion of the arrows, they return at c, and enter at d' the
great tunnel T t', through which they are conveyed to a
chimney 240 feet high, at some distance on one side of
the mill.
“In the tunnel is placed the large steam-pipe s' s' s', which
communicates with all the boilers by means of the pipes
e, e, e'; by this arrangement the hot gases round the pipe
not only prevent the radiation of heat and condensation of
the steam, but in fact in a slight degree superheat it, and
render it more effective in working. The steam then
passes to the engines by the pipes t', i, t'. To supply the
waste of water in the boilers caused by evaporation, they
are supplied from the engines by means of the feed¬
pumps, from which the water is conveyed by the feed-pipe
q q to the tunnel t't', in which it is heated by the waste
gases in an apparatus known as Green’s fuel economiser.
This apparatus consists of a series of upright tubes intro-
STEAM-ENGINE.
605
Stationary duced in the tunnel between the boilers and the chimney,
Beam through which the water is made to pass on its way to the
Engines, toilers, and is there heated to above the boiling point.
v*'/ The practical difficulty in the employment of this appa¬
ratus was the formation of a coating of soot upon the pipes,
which effectually prevented the absorption of heat by the
pipes and the water. To obviate this, Mr Green employs
a number of rings or scrapers encircling the pipes, and
kept in motion by means of chains and pulleys, driven by a
shaft from the engine; these scrapers traverse the whole
length of the pipes, and thus prevent any accumulation of
soot upon their surfaces. It has been found that, when
the waste gases from a boiler escape at a temperature of
only 400° to 500°, the feed water can be heated to an
average of 225°, and the temperature of the gases on
leaving the pipes is reduced to about 250°. To produce
this effect, 10 square feet of heating surface in the pipes
are required for each horse-power. In this way a con¬
siderable economy of fuel is said to be effected, amounting
to 17 to 25 per cent. After passing through this apparatus,
the heated feed-water re-enters the boiler-house by the
pipe r r r, and is thence distributed to the boilers. The
safety-valves shown at
/,/,/, consist, for
each of these boilers,
of two valves, each of
12 inches area, loaded
with fixed weights to
the maximum working
pressure of the boiler,
and of a third valve of
five inches area, at¬
tached to a spring-
balance, so that any
required pressure may
be secured by its ad¬
justment. These valves
are fixed upon a com¬
mon valve - seating ;
m, m, rri, are the man¬
holes by which access is gained when requisite to the inte¬
rior of the boiler, for the purpose of examination, cleaning,
&c. At d' there is a self-acting elevator for raising the
ashes and depositing them at once in railway waggons above.
The coal is brought by railway and dropped at once from
the waggons into the boiler-house at e', e'.
“ Referring to the sectional views of the boiler and boiler-
house, a', a', are the fire-tubes and fire-grates, and ri, ri, the
bridges; b' the mixing-chamber, in which three vertical
tubes//,/?', will be noticed, which strengthen the flue in
its weakest part, viz., where it is elliptical in form, and aid
in absorbing the heat by increasing the heating surface;
b b the descending flue ; d! d the entrance to the common
flue or tunnel t/ ; e'e' the steam-pipe, with shut-off’valve at
y, entering the common steam-pipe s in the tunnel; r the
leed-pipe, with valve for regulating the supply to each
boiler, communicating with the interior by the pipe x ;
v',v,v,' stays or gussets for strengthening the ends of the
boiler; f safety-valves, with levers, weights, and spring-
balance y ; h! the glass water-gauge ; i' cock for drawing off
the water when requisite ; and k' additional man-hole for
cleaning the boiler beneath the flues.
“ The principal dimensions of the boiler are as follows :—
Shell, 7 feet diameter, 24 feet long. The length is divided
thus—Fire-tubes, 9 feet long; mixing-chamber, 8 feet;
flue-tubes, 7 feet; total, 24 feet. The fire-tubes are 2^
feet in diameter; grates, 2^ feet by 6£ feet long ; mixing-
chamber, 3 feet 10 inches diameter ; 109 flue-tubes, 3
inches diameter.
“ The heating surface in each of these boilers may be
stated as follows;—■
Safety-Valves.
Area of fire-tubes     135 square feet.
Area of mixing-chamber   102 „
Area of vertical tubes  28 „
Area of 3-inch tubes  550 „
Total  815 „
Area of fire-grate (16-1 X 2)  321 »
“ The chimney is 250 feet high above the level of the
ground. It is built in the style of an Italian campanile,
and consists of an outer ornamental stone casing, and an
inner and perfectly distinct parallel brick flue, the space
between the flue and the casing being free for the ex¬
pansion and contraction of the flue. The flue is 6£ feet
square, having 42^ square feet of sectional area, to the
summit. The external casing is 20 feat square outside at
the base, and tapers to 10 feet square at the summit.”
I he following are additional particulars and illustrations
of the Saltaire engines and boilers, with reference also to
the foregoing detail illustrations:—The cylinders (fig. 143)
are 50 inches diameter, with
7 feet stroke, of metal, 1£
inches thick, on a pedestal
of the same thickness, bolted
down to the foundation. The
ports are 20 inches wide by
6 inches deep, with a sec¬
tional area T^th the area of
the piston. The equilibrium
valves have the upper disc
12 inches diameter, area 113
square inches ; the lower disc
is 10)? inches diameter, with
86£ square inches area ; dif¬
ference of areas, 26£ square
Stationary
Beam-
Engines.
Section of Cylinder and Base. Dia¬
meter, 50 inches; stroke, 7 feet.
Shut-off Valve on Boiler,
9 inches diameter of seat.
inches. Lift of steam-valves, If inches ; of exhaust-valves,
If inches; steam-branches, 12f inches diameter; ex¬
haust-pipe, 13 inches; stop-valve, 12f inches diameter.
Condenser, 40 inches diameter; air-pump, 33f inches, by
3f feet stroke; foot-valve, 30 inches by 6f inches, 195
square inches, or jlg-th of the sectional area of the air-pump;
discharge-valve, 31 inches by 7 inches; injector, 7 inches
diameter. The pistons and air-pump buckets (figs. 145
and 146) are packed with Goodfellow’s notched V rings, in
one piece. The beam is 21 feet 6 inches long between
end centres, or over three times the length of the stroke ;
it is 3f feet deep at the middle, or f th of the length, and
the web and the rim are 2f inches thick ; the main-centre
(fig. 147) is 12 inches diameter in the beam, and 9 inches
at the bearings ; the connecting-rod (fig. 148) is about 20
feet long, of cast-iron, of a cruciform section in the body,
measuring 22 inches across, and If inches thick at the
edges. The spur-flywheel is 24 feet 5 inches in diameter,
with 230 cogs in the rim, 14 inches broad, 4 inches pitch;
606
STEAM-ENGINE.
Stationary the rim is in 10 segments, and has a sectional area of 200
Beam- square inches. In fig. 149, the cover of the centre is re-
Engines.
Section and plan of Piston on Goodfellow’s system ; 50 inches diameter.
moved in order to show how the arm of the wheel is in¬
serted and bolted into the recess prepared for it. Fig. 150
Pig. 146.
Sections of Air-pump Bucket; 33J
inches diameter, 31 feet stroke.
Fig. 147.
Main centre and section of Beam;
3J feet deep.
Pig. 148.
Section of connecting-rod at
the middle; 22 inches square.
shows the most recent form of section of spur-flywheel rim,
adopted by Messrs Fairbairn. The feed-pump has a
plunger 6 inches diameter (fig. 151).
Fig. 150. Pig. 151.
Spur-Plywheel Rim, as recently Peed-pnmp : 6 inches diameter, 21 inches
made by Messrs Pairbairn. stroke ; water-way, 4 inches diameter.
Mr Fairbaim estimates each pair of engines at 200 nomi¬
nal horse-power, or the gross nominal power of the two Stationary
pairs at 400 horse-power. His rule for nominal power is Beam-
to multiply the area of the piston, lOGS’S square inches, by EngiDes.
7 lb. pressure per square inch, and by a speed of piston of
240 feet per minute, and to divide by 33,000, which gives
100 nominal horse-power for one cylinder, or
1963-5x7x240 1AA ,
 33 OOQ = 100 nom- horse-p°wer>
giving 400 horse-power for the four cylinders, or two pairs-
According to the ordinary Manchester rule, the united
nominal powers would be 341 horse-power.
The boilers are made of best Staffordshire iron-plates,
T6^ inch thick for the shell, and ^ inch for the ends; f inch
Lowmoor plates for the flues, except for the furnaces, oi
upper part of the fire-tubes. The pressure varies from
25 lb. to 30 lb. per square inch, according to the load ; it is
calculated that the pressure may safely amount to 40 lb.
Eight boilers are in steam at one time to supply the mill
and the engines when working with their full load; but
nine boilers, and sometimes all the ten, are at work when
inferior coal is used. In addition to the large engines of
400 nominal horse-power, there are two 25 horse-power
blowing-engines, also worked by the boilers, to heat the
mills. Each boiler is estimated at 50 nominal horse-power,
allowing about § square foot of fire-grate surface per horse¬
power, and is stated to be sufficient to supply steam for 150
indicator horse-power.
The consumption of fuel averages from 3 lb. to 3^ lb of
good coal per indicator horse-power per hour, and 4|- to
4f lb. of slack per indicator horse-power.
The total weight of cast-iron in each pair of engines, ex¬
clusive of steam-pipes, is 157 tons, 7 cwt., 1 qr.; of wrought-
iron, 11 tons, 8 cwt., 3 qrs.; of brass, 2 tons. 7 cwt., 1 qr.;
total weight of metal in one pair of engines, exclusive of
connections, 171 tons, 3 cwt., 1 qr.; in two pairs, 342
tons, 6 cwt., 2 qrs. The weight of one boiler complete is
10£ tons; of ten boilers, 105 tons. The gross weight of
metal in all the four engines and ten boilers, exclusive of
connections, is 447 tons, 6 cwt., 2 qrs.
The peculiar design of non-condensing beam-engines (fig.
152) is the production of the Corliss Steam-Engine Company,
Providence, in the United States. The beam is uncommonly
deep and rigid; the cylinder is coupled to the beam, not
by the usual parallel motion, but by a connecting-rod, from
the cross-head of the piston-rod, which is guided by an
upright slide. The beam is supported by a cast-iron stand¬
ard, stayed diagonally by wrought-iron rods. The engine
is worked by Corliss’s valve-gear. On this system, the
steam-passages are reduced to the shortest length prac-
STEAM-ENGINE.
607
Modified ticable, and a valve is applied to each passage, two for the
Arrange- admission of steam, and two separate passages for exhaust;
merits of four jn a]]_ gearing js designed to work the steam
f 'nes vari°us degrees of expansion, and is operated on by the
t _ l'v governor, so that the speed is regulated, not by wire-draw-
^ ing, as is usual, but by varying the degree of expansion,
admitting steam of full pressure into the cylinder before
cutting off. The valves are segmental, and rotative-reci¬
procating in their action ; they are worked from a “ wrist-
plate,” shown in the figure, deriving its motion from the
eccentric. The)r are easy to work, and are operated on by
the governor, without any resistance to the latter, and thus
a steady equable motion of the engine is insured. The
governor operates through an ingenious contrivance for dis¬
engaging and re-engaging the valve-gear, by means of an
inclined-plane motion. The indicator-diagrams produced
by this motion are good, and the practical results of its
working are excellent.
CHAP. II.—MODIFIED ARRANGEMENTS OF BEAM-ENGINES.
The non-condensing engines made by Messrs Mather,
Dixon, and Co., erected to work the inclined plane on the
Liverpool and Manchester Railway, at Liverpool Station,
Plate XXL, shows how, by simple inversion of the engine,
the power is transmitted from the cylinder through the beam,
at once to the main-shaft under ground, which carries the
large grooved pulley to work the rope. There is a pair of
engines to work the main-shaft, connected at right angles.
The centres of the beams el rest at a level of 3 feet above
the floor of the engine. A is the cylinder, in section in
fig. 2 ; L is a side-rod from the cylinder cross-head to the
lever, and the connecting-rod L K descends to the crank¬
shaft x. s s the steam-pipes, D D the valves, and x x the
valve-gear. The foundations are solid red-sandstone rock,
in which excavations are made for the shafts and ropes.
Another arrangement of beam-engine, with low-hung
beams, Plate XXII., was erected by Messrs Wm. Fairbairn,
in a mill at Staley Bridge. The whole of the pair of engines
stands on an independent metal sole-plate, and is similar in
form to the well-known type of marine engines. The
beam L L is, as it were, split in two, one of the halves being
placed on each side of the engine, but united at the middle
by a large gudgeon, or main-centre, and at the ends by
cross-heads, side-rods, and connecting-rod, to the piston and
the crank. A the cylinders ; r the cross-heads ; K the crank;
ll the beams; w the spur-flywheel, driving the mill-shaft Y
through the smaller spur-wheel g ; m the parallel-motion ;
x x the motion for actuating the valve-gear ; d a counter¬
poise to the valves ; w the governor ; h the cross-head to
work the air-pump.
CHAP. III.—COMPOUND BEAM-ENGINES.
Mr Wm. M‘Naught, of Manchester, introduced an im¬
portant addition to the ordinary beam-condensing engine,
in the application of an additional cylinder, non-condensing,
to co-operate with the condensing cylinder, under the same
beam, but on the other side of the main-centre. This
system is illustrated by the diagram (fig. 153) of a pair of
engines, erected at the Gutta Pereha Company’s Works,
City Road, London. A, A, are the ordinary condensing
cylinders at one end of the beam, 34 inches diameter, 6-feet
stroke ; B, b, are the additional, and smaller, non-condensing
cylinders, 31 inches diameter, 3-feet stroke, placed under
and connected with the other half of the beam, near the
crank-end. “High-pressure” steam is admitted from the
boiler to the small cylinders B, thence to the large cylin¬
ders A, thence to the condenser c, by means of suitably-
arranged pipes and gearing; the steam is admitted to the
former at a pressure of from 40 lb. to 50 lb. above the atmo¬
sphere, and is cut off by means of an ordinary lap-valve, at Compound
from ^d to f ds, but usually at half-stroke; it is expanded Beam-
Engines.
Fig. 153.
to the end of the stroke, and then is exhausted into the
large cylinder, which commences its stroke at the termina¬
tion of the stroke of the first cylinder, and the two cylinders
perform respectively their steam-stroke and re turn-stroke
at the same time, the steam continuously expanding from
the smaller into the larger, and evacuating the former pre¬
cisely as if it was exhausted into the atmosphere. At the
end of the steam-stroke of the larger cylinder, the steam is
exhausted in the usual way into the condenser; and at the
end of the return-stroke of the smaller cylinder, the steam
from the boiler is admitted into it for the next steam-stroke.
The indicator-diagrams (fig. 154) show the conjoint work¬
ing of the coupled cylinders
of one of Mr M‘Naught’s
engines, erected at a grain-
mill at Drogheda, in which
the high-pressure cylinder is
31^ inches diameter, with
37-inch stroke ; and the low-
pressure cylinder is 34 inches
diameter, with 74-inch stroke,
making 20 revolutions per
minute. The nearness of
the exhaust-line of the for¬
mer to the expansion-line of
the latter, proves the proper
action of the system, and that there is no material loss of
pressure by the passage of the steam from the one cylinder
to the other. The steam is admitted at 33 lb. sensible pres¬
sure, and there is a vacuum of 11^- lb. The indicator horse¬
power obtained in the small cylinder is 79f horse-power; and
in the larger, 77 horse-power, nearly equal, making together
156£ horse-power. The engine works day and night, and
consumes 2,84 lb. of Welsh slack per indicator horse-power
per hour. In other cases of M‘Naught’s engines, a fall
608
STEAM-ENGINE.
Compound of 2 lb. to 3 lb. pressure may be observed in the passage of
Beam- the steam from the small to the large cylinder, arising from
Engines. the probable condensation and friction in the passages.
' The usual consumption of fuel by this class of engine in
mills is about 3 lb. per indicator horse-power per hour,
which includes the necessary steaming of the mill; in one
case it was only 2§ lb., and if f lb. be
deducted for other purposes, the usual
consumption of M‘Naught’s engines
would be at the rate of 2£ to 2 lb. per
indicator horse-power per hour. With
very inferior fuel, the gross consump¬
tion has amounted to 5-28 lb. per
horse-power. The system has been
applied to upwards of 400 engines,
and, besides the economy of fuel, it
effects a perfectly steady motion, by
the equal distribution of the moving
force at the two ends of the beam, and
reduces the violent strain, or “ lift,”
usual in single-cylinder engines, work¬
ing expansively at the main-centre and
the crank-shaft bearings.
Beam-engines are occasionally com¬
pounded by placing two cylinders side
by side, under the «ante end of the beam, exhausting
from the top of the small cylinder to the bottom of the
large one, and vice versd. On this system the passages be¬
tween the two cylinders are shorter than on M'Naught’s;
but there is an obvious disadvantage in the united action
of the two cylinders on the beam and the bearings in the
same direction.
Mr Charles Swift, Blackburn, constructs a single slide-
valve, for exhausting from the high to the low-pressure
cylinder, shown in detail in figs. 155,156. The exhaust takes
from the high-pressure cylinder is obtained on the low- Direct
pressure piston. Action Ho-
rizontal
Engines.
CHAP. IV.—DIRECT ACTION HORIZONTAL ENGINES. v  ,
Non-condensing engines are now almost invariably con-
place close to the low-pressure cylinder, as shown in the
fig. 156, which represents in plan a pair of cylinders, high-
pressure and low-pressure, with separate beams and cranks
on one shaft. Thus the full pressure of the steam exhausted
structed “direct-action,” or without the intervention of a
beam—the connecting-rod uniting the cross-head of the
piston-rod to the crank-pin. They are made horizontal
and vertical; but the former disposition is most common,
and is adopted where space is not limited, and other ar¬
rangements permit, as the whole of the engine lies low,
under easy inspection, and may be firmly placed on a solid
cast-iron base, rested on a plain foundation. The non¬
condensing horizontal engine, made by Messrs Garrett,
Marshall, and Co., Leeds, of 30 nominal horse-power, is
shown in figs. 157 and 158. The cylinder is 21 inches in
diameter, with 42-inch stroke, with short ports, and is fitted
with double valves, to effect variable expansion, the ex¬
pansion-valve being placed upon the back of the ordinary
valve, and worked by a separate eccentric on the main-
shaft, adjusted to cut off at various points of the stroke.
There is also a feed-water heating apparatus placed over the
cylinder, consisting of a fagot of small tubes placed in an
upright cylindrical vessel; the steam is exhausted through
the tubes, and the feed-water is forced into the vessel
around the tubes, by which it is heated from the steam, on
its way to the boiler. The advantage of so heating the
water on its way from the pump is, that it may be lifted
cold by the pump from considerable depths, with more
certainty than when hot. The sole-plate of the engine is
20 feet long, in one piece.
Another variety of direct-action horizontal engine, non¬
condensing, of 10 nominal horse-power, by Messrs Clayton,
Shuttleworth, and Co., Lincoln, is represented by figs. 160
and 161. The cylinder is 10 inches diameter, 14-inches
stroke, and the engine makes 110 revolutions per minute.
The distinguishing feature of this engine is the apparatus
for heating the feed-water, which consists of a large pipe
underground, 9 feet long, 5 inches diameter, into which the
steam is exhausted from the cylinder at one end, and from
which it escapes at the other end. The cold water is
pumped by the engine into a 2-inch tube, which traverses
the heating-pipe from end to end, where it becomes heated
on its way to the boiler. The engine is placed on a sole-
piece, 8-^ feet long.
Condensing engines of moderate power are frequently
made horizontal direct-acting. They are distinguished in
appearance from the non-condensing engine by the addition
of the air-pump and condenser on the same base-plate. Two
examples are illustrated in Plate XXIII. The first is an
engine of 20 nominal horse-power, by Messrs Barrett, Exall,
STEAM-ENGINE.
609
Direct and Andrewes, of Reading, with a cylinder 16 inches number of revolutions, 80 per minute. The steam-ports Direct
Action Ho- diameter, and 20-inch stroke, working with 50 lb. steam ; are made as short as is practicable ; there are two valves, for Action Ho¬
rizontal rizontal
Engines. Engines.
Figs. 157 and 158.
variable expansion, worked by two eccentrics, one to each ;
the expansion is varied by altering the position of the
expansion-eccentric on the shaft, by means of a screw and
hand-wheel moving the eccentric on a diagonal key fixed
on the shaft. The piston-rod is extended through the bottom
of the cylinder to force the air-pump rod, the air-pump
being situated within the condenser, at the extreme left of
the engine. The injection-water is discharged from the
condenser through an overflow-pipe, and the injection-water
rises to the condenser in virtue of the vacuum. The base¬
plate of the engine is 15^ feet long.
An engine of this class was subjected to a ten hours’
continuous trial by Messrs Barrett and Co., at their
works. It had a 21-inch cylinder, 30-inch stroke, jacketed
on the sides and ends; it cut off steam at 3£ inches, or 9‘4
per cent., or about -^xth of the stroke, besides a clearance
of 1 inch of the stroke, with 50 lb. steam in the boiler.
The boiler evaporated 9 lb. of water per lb. of coal, fed
from the hot-well at a temperature of 82° Fahr., the cold
water being supplied at 38° Fahr. The average speed of
the engine was 60 03 revolutions, or 300 feet of piston per
VOL. xx
minute, and the power measured at the main-shaft, by the
friction-dynamometer, was 40 horse-power. The indicator-
diagrams (fig. 159) were taken from the two ends of the
610
STEAM-ENGINE.
Direct of 47 horse-power, from which it appears that the resistance in the condenser was 27 inches of mercury, or 12£ lb. per
Action of the engine consumed 7 horse-power, or 15 per cent, of square inch.
Vertical ^ wh0ie indicator-power. The fuel consumed was S'Od lb. The compound-engine, by Messrs Carrett, Marshall, and
De8 ,) per dynamometric horse-power, or 2'6 lb. per indicator Co., Leeds, Plate XXIII., comprises a variety of new and
*horse-power. The figure shows an average vacuum of useful features. The high and low cylinders, and 16
nearly 12 lb. below the atmospheric line, whilst the vacuum inches diameter respectively, with 20-inch stroke, are placed
Figs, 160 and 161.
side by side on one base-plate, and work to cranks, dia¬
metrically opposed on the same shaft. Thus the pistons
do not, as is usual in compounded twin-cylinders, work
together on the same cross-head, making their forward and
backward strokes together; but they alternate, and by
this means the steam is exhausted by the medium of a
single slide, straight across from the high-pressure to the
same end of the low-pressure cylinder, through the shortest
possible passage. Thus, also, the reciprocating mechanism
balances itself, and a perfectly steady motion is obtained.
By the cross sections it is shown, that the valve-faces
of the cylinder are at right angles to each other, connected
by a single slide, and are at 45° with the horizontal plane
of the cylinders. The air-pump, which is double-acting,
and the condenser, are placed apart behind the low-pressure
cylinder; the pump is within the condenser, and is worked
by a prolongation of the low-pressure piston-rod. In this
way, it is apparent, the weight of the heavier piston is
carried in stuffing-boxes, and on slide-blocks, at both ends
of the cylinder. The feed-water is heated in a simple,
ingenious, and effective way, by injecting water from the
hot well through a perforated pipe into the interior of the
exhaust-pipe, from the low-pressure cylinder, where it
acquires the temperature of the steam, and whence it is
pumped into the boiler. The base-plate of the engine is
about 10 feet long, and does not include the condenser.
Mr B. Goodfellow, of Hyde, constructs compound hori¬
zontal engines, working on cranks at right angles on the
main-shaft, in which the high-pressure piston is worked at
a higher speed than the low-pressure, by the expedient of
giving it a longer stroke ; and the air-pump and condenser
are placed on the base-plate between the low-pressure
cylinder and its crank, being worked by the continued piston-
rod of the cylinder. The condenser and air-pump for
horizontal engines are frequently placed beneath the base¬
plate, and worked by bell-cranks; but the arrangements
illustrated are now generally preferred.
CHAP. V.—DIRECT ACTION VERTICAL ENGINES.
Where space is confined, and compactness an object,
upright engines are serviceable. They are made variously ;
but the chief distinctions are—first, with the cylinder above
and the crank below, near the ground; second, with cylin¬
der below and the crank overhead. Of the first class, the
engine (figs. 162 and 163) of 16 nominal horse-power, by
Messrs Carrett, Marshall, and Co., Leeds, is a simple and
effective example. The cylinder is 17 inches diameter,
2 feet stroke, and is supported by a strong frame directly on
the cast-iron base, which carries also the crank-shaft; the
valve-gear, feed-pump, and governors, also are directly
worked; all the parts are easily accessible, and the whole
rests on one foundation, 6 feet by about 5 feet, excepting the
outer bearing of the crank-shaft. The stuffing-box projects
into the cylinder, and thus prevents the leakage of water
from it; and the lubrication of the piston-rod is effected by
a receptacle in the gland for lubricating packing, distinct
from the ordinary packing. In addition to the ordinary
Direct
Action
Vertical
Engines
STEAM-ENGINE.
Direct valve there is a sepa c, expansion, or cut-off valve, on the
Action back of it, worked by a separate eccentric, by means of
Vertical which the steam may be advantageously cut off at any
Engines. J b j j
611
Fig. 163.
point, from T’7th tooths of the stroke:—the lead remaining
constant, and the exhaust unvarying. With heated feed-
water, engines of this class work with from 3 to 4 lb. of
good coal per indicator horse-power. In some cases this
kind of engine is made with a condenser.
The vertical engine, by Messrs Williamson Brothers, of
Kendal (figs. 164 and 165), exemplifies the reverse arrange-
Fig. 164.
Fig. 165.
!=====:!
Fig. 166.
ment, where the crank is overhead and the cylinder below.
Here a stiffer and more solid erection is needed for resist¬
ing the swing and action of the crank, and it is made in the
form of a hollow pillar, equally stiff in every direction, and Pumping¬
combining strength with lightness. The strain is confined Engines8
to one casting, and there are few separate parts. The
engine is fitted with an equilibrium-valve, controlled by
the governor, designed without arms or rings, to prevent
sticking in any part;
the governor can be
disconnected instantly
by a lever, which shuts
off the steam at the
same time. The same
form of engine is ap¬
plied to underlying
crank-shafts, when the
engine is required to
stand independent, and
to drive only by a belt
from the fly-wheel, or
from a pulley on the
main shaft.
In situations where a
medium level of crank¬
shaft is to be observed,
the “steeple” form of
engine is occasionally
used, exemplified in
fig. 166, as applied by
Messrs Dunn and Co.,
Manchester, to the
driving of sugar-mills.
Here the cylinder is
below, the cross-head and guide-bars at the top, and the
crank-shaft is half-way up, worked by a connecting-rod
depending from the
cross-head. To effect
this arrangement, the
piston-rod must be
united to a triangular
frame, wide enough
to clear the vibra¬
tions of the connect¬
ing-rod.
Oscillating engines,
also, are occasionally
applied vertically, so
as to diminish the
weight*of the engine;
and for small power
they are useful and
convenient. The Ex¬
ample (fig. 167),
made by Mr Michie,
of Nine Elms, Lon¬
don, has a 4^-inch cy¬
linder, 12-inch stroke,
and makes 100 revo¬
lutions per minute.
The slide-valve is not Flg‘167,
worked by an eccentric, but derives its motion from a
fixed stud in the framing, to which is jointed a link and
double lever, passing to the spindle of the slide in the
side of the cylinder; thus the*oscillation of the cylinder
gives the action to the valve. Engines in this style are
made up to 12 horse-power, and they work well, with few
repairs.
CHAP. VI.—PUMPING-ENGINES.
Pumping water from mines, or for the service of towns,
or for other purposes, has, until of late, been almost uni¬
versally performed by direct lifts, after the style introduced
612
STEAM-ENGINE.
Pumping- by Newcomen and Cawlej', and adopted by Smeaton and
^Engines, by ^yatt (figS. 7 ami As the duty was simple—the
lifting of a dead-weight—so was the engine, the steam
cylinder at one end, the pump at the other, and the beam
between to connect them, with no superfluous rotative
or crank-motion. Lately, double-acting rotative pumping-
engines, with crank and fly-wheel, have been introduced.
They are more convenient and more compact than the
direct-lift engines, but they are not so efficient. The
“duty,” as it is technically called, is inferior, owing to the
greater internal friction of the rotative engine, and to
the less nearly perfect adaptation of the action of the
engine to the nature of the material to be dealt with and
the work to be done. The term “ duty” was first employed
by Mr Watt to signify the net effect resulting from the
consumption of a given quantity of coal; and was expressed
by the product of the weight in pounds of water raised,
by the height through which it was lifted in feet, divided
by the weight in bushels of the fuel consumed in perform¬
ing a given quantity of work. The duty of the best of
Smeaton’s engines was, in 1772, 9,450,000 foot-pounds per
cwt. of coal. On the expiration of Watt’s patent, about the
year 1800, the highest duty of his engine amounted to
20,000,000, or more than double the former duty, which may
represent the economic value of the improvement effected
by Watt under his various patents. The reported duty of
Cornish pumping-engines, by the consumption of 94 lbs.
of coal, rose from an average of 19,500,000, and a maxi¬
mum of 26,500,000 in 1813, to an average of 60,000,000
and a maximum of 96,000,000 in 1843. The average
duty in 1856 was only 47,000,000, probably on account of
inferior qualities of coals used.
It is necessary to bear in mind the distinction between
the duty of a bushel of coals, 94 lb., and the duty of a cwt.
of coals, 112 lb., both of which are employed as measures
of fuel and of duty. In terms of 112 lb. of coal, the aver¬
age duty of Cornish engines, in 1843, would be 71,500,000;
and, in 1856, 56,000,000 ; and the maximum duty, in 1843,
would be 114,500,000.
The functions of pumping-engines, for the supply of
water to towns, &c., are chiefly distinguished from those of
Cornish engines in the relatively shallow lifts, or depths
from which the water is pumped, together with the height
to which it is elevated, or the “ head” of pressure against
which the engine works. Thus Austin’s engine, Fowey
Consols, in Cornwall, in 1856, lifted the water through a
height of 183 fathoms, or 1100 feet. In the London water¬
bearing district, the depth from the surface of the ground
to the level of water does not exceed 100 to 120 feet. No
water-works engines are employed to lift water from a
greater depth than 15 or 16 feet below the pump; but
at the East London Water-Works, the combined lift and
head of pressure is about 140 feet. The extreme variety
of duty of course involves a variety of proportions, chiefly
in the ratio of the diameter of the cylinder to that of the
“ plunger-pole” of the pump. The Fowey Consols engine
has an 80-inch cylinder, with 10 feet 4 inches stroke ; the
pump has 9 feet 3 inches stroke, drawing six lifts—that is
to say, pumping by six successive stages: three of the
plunger-poles are 15 inches, one 13^ inches, and two 12
inches diameter—the diameter of the plunger-poles being
about £th that of the cylinder. On the contrary, the pole of
the “ Victoria” pumping-engine at the East London Water-
Works is 50 inches diameter, with 100-inch cylinder, being
one-half the diameter. The obvious ruling element is the
“ head” against which the engine is to work; the greater
the head, the smaller is the pole in proportion to the cylin¬
der, other circumstances being alike.
1 he duty of a pumping-engine may be variously defined.
Preliminarily, there is the gross work done by the steam in
the cylinder, or the “ total load.” measured by the indi¬
cator, comprising the whole work done of whatever kind, Pumping,
useful and useless—water lifted, friction of pump, and fric- Engines.
tion of the engine itself. The “steam-duty” is the duty
performed within the pump, measured by an indicator, com¬
prising the whole w6rk done in lifting the water into the
pumps and expelling it into the mains—the steam-duty
being equal to the gross work of the steam, minus the
friction of the engine. The pumping, or effective duty, is
the duty realised in the mains ; this is measured by the
head of pressure outside the pump, measured by the guage,
and is equal to the steam-duty, minus the resistance of the
pump. The effective duty is that which is usually under¬
stood to be signified by the “ duty” of an engine.
At the East London Water-Works there are four en¬
gines, particulars of the working of which have been
kindly contributed by the engineer, Mr C. Greaves.
The leading dimension is respectively as follows for the
four engines:—
Engine.
Ajax  
Cornish ...
Wicksteed,
Victoria ..
Diameter of
Cylinder.
72 inches.
80 „
90 „
100 „
These engines are worked with 35 lb. steam in the
boiler, and the initial pressure in the cylinder is 20 lb. to
25 lb. per square inch on the piston. The cylinders are
steam-jacketed, and the steam is usually cut off at about
jth of the stroke, and expanded during the remainder.
The following are particulars of regular working results in
1857. The relative effective steam pressures per square
inch on the piston, or the “ total load,” and the work done
in the pump, reduced to the equivalent pressure on the
steam-piston, being elements respectively of the total load,
or gross work of the steam, and of the steam-duty, are as
follow:—
Cylinder.
Total Load
in lbs. per
Square Inch.
Pumping
Work done
in lbs. per
Square Inch.
Difference, or Friction of
Engine in lbs. per
Square Inch.
72-inch
80 „
90 „
100 „
Mean.
15-00
14- 38
15- 58
16- 58
1400
12-73
14- 10
15- 01
1-00 or 6-64 per cent.
1-65 „ 11-47 „
1-48 „ 9-51 „
1-57 „ 9-47 „
15-38
13-96
Showing a mean friction of engine equal to 1-42 lb. per
square inch of piston, being 9j per cent, of the gross work
of the steam ; and showing that the steam-duty is 90f per
cent, of the gross work of steam. The performance of
three of these engines is as follows :—
Cylinder.
80-inch.
90 „ .
100 .
Mean
Usual
Length of
Stroke.
No. of
Strokes
ft. in.
9 9 {
10 7 {
11 0 J
6-48
8-08
5-38
5-97
4- 75
5- 06
5-95
Duty per 112
lbs.of Fuel.
86,576,976
78,675,829
86,749,117
93,595,265
78,667,331
79,848,876
84,018,899
Effective
H.P.
104
135-4
120-5
133-9
165-5
180
140
Showing that, with a mean of 6 strokes per minute, 140 effec¬
tive horse-power was realised, with a duty of 84,000,000,
the maximum duty being about 93,600,000. The horse¬
power developed at different points was as follows, that in
the cylinder being estimated in terms of the friction-ratios
previously deduced : —
STEAM-ENGINE.
Pumping-
Engines.
Cylinder.
H.P. in
Cylinder
(estimated).
80.
90.
100.
Mean 
Ratio to cylinder H.P,
128-4
150-3
167-1
199-8
219-2
173-0
H.P. in Pump.
113-7
136
151-2
180-9
198-5
156-1
90£ per cent
Effective H P.
104-0
135-4
120-5
133 9
165-5
1800
1400
81 per cent.
Showing that the effective horse-power,—the “pumping
duty,” is 81 per cent., or about fths of the indicator horse¬
power exerted in the cylinder—the “ total loadand that
the remaining 19 per cent., or ^th, is absorbed almost in
equal proportions by the friction of the engine, including
that of the pole on one part; and the friction and resist¬
ance of the pump on the other part, being each nearly 10
per cent, of the “ total load.”
The East London pumping-engines are supplied with
steam from Cornish boilers, with single internal flue, of the
following dimensions:—
Cylinder.
80.
90.
100.
No. of
Boilers.
Diameter
of Shell.
ft. in.
6 5J
6 6
5 9
Diameter
of Flue.
ft. in.
3 10^
4 0
3 6
Length.
ft. in.
27 9
34 0
30 0
Total
Area of
Fire Grate
sq. ft.
62- 5
74-25
76- 8
116- 0
It is found from long-continued observation, that these boilers
evaporate 10 lb. of water per lb. of gas coke, or \felsh
coal, and the duty of the engines has already been stated
according to this ratio. The following are the proportional
consumptions of fuel:—
Cylinder.
80.
90.
100.
Means.
Fuel per
Hour.
lb.
266
382
308
317
467
499
373
Per Foot
of Grate
per hour.
lb.
4-25
6-10
4-14
4-26
6-07
4-30
4T9
Per H.P.
Gross Load
per Hour,
lb.
2-07
2-05
1-81
2-34
2-28
2-11
Per H.P.
in Pump
per Hour.
lb.
2-34
2-26
2-09
2-58
2-51
2-36
per H.P.
Effective
per Hour.
lb.
2-55
2-81
2-56
2-37
2-82
2-78
2-65
The following are the proportional consumptions of water
from the boilers :—
Cylinder.
80.
90.
100.
Means.,
Water
per lb. of
F uel.
lb.
10
10
10
10
10
10
Water
Per Hour.
Cubic ft.
42-7
611
49 6
50-9
750
80-1
60-0
Per
Boiler
per Hour.
Cubic ft.
14-2
20-4
16-5
170
18-7
16 0
17-1
Per Foot
of Grate
per Hour.
Cubic ft.
•68
•98
•67
•67
•98
•69
•78
Per
Stroke.
lb.
68
80
9-6
8-9
16-4
16-4
110
Showing that an average of 4^ lb. of fuel is consumed per
square foot of grate per hour, and 2^ lb. per cylinder horse¬
power per hour, or 2§ lb. per effective horse-power per
hour ; that an average of 60 cubic feet of water per hour
is evaporated for each engine, and 17 cubic feet by each
boiler, or about $ cubic feet per square foot of grate per
hour; and 11 lb., or above a gallon per stroke is consumed.
As the average cylinder or indicator horse-power is 173
613
horse-power, performed with an average of 3-6 boilers, the rumping-
gross actual horse-power of one boiler averages only 47 Engines,
horse-power. About J cubic foot of water is consumed per
actual horse-power.
The air-space through the grates averages from Jth to
£th of the area of the grate. The force of the draft at the
base of the chimney varies from ^ to ^ inch of water.
In the side-flues the draft was -j^th inch for the boilers of
the 80 and 90 inch cylinders, and ^ to -fy inch for the
100-inch boilers. In the side-flues the temperature varied
from 280° to 415° Fahr., according to the opening of the
damper and the strength of the draft; and in the chimney,
at a level 10 feet from the top, the temperature varied
from 260° to 318°—the average for 24 hours being 274°.
The temperature of 35 lb. steam, of 50 lb. total pressure, is
281°, which approaches the lower limit of temperature in
the side-flues.
The condensation of steam in the jacket of the 90-inch
cylinder, cutting off at ^th, amounts to -^th, or about
4 per cent, of the steam consumed in the cylinder, and
would average about 2 cubic feet per hour for this engine.
1 he steam-jackets are thickly clothed with sand or ashes,
to prevent loss of heat by radiation, which, when the cloth¬
ing is omitted, causes a loss of more than 10 per cent, of
the efficiency.
The expenditure of fuel necessary to keep up the steam
in one boiler—that is, to keep up the heat of one boiler and
the surrounding building—was less than 1 cwt. of coke per
day of 24 hours. To keep up the steam in the jacket
additionally, the consumption was 2 cwt. per day.
The duty of double-acting rotative pumping-engines,
having a crank and fly-wheel, averages from 40,000,000
to 50,000,000 ; and, in general, their efficiency is not above
two-thirds of that of single-acting engines. A pair of rota¬
tive engines, with two fly-wheels, for pumping, were found
to absorb about 30 per cent, of their power in driving them¬
selves, leaving 70 per cent, for the interior of the pump, or
the “ steam-duty.”
Single-acting pumping-engines are of two general classes:
—beam-engines, represented by Plate XXIV., and direct-
action, or bull-engines, represented by Plate XXV. In the
former, the cylinder is at one end of the beam, the pump at
the other ; in the latter, the beam is dispensed with .and the
pump placed under the cylinder, and directly connected to it
by the piston-rod. In the beam-engine, the steam from the
boiler is admitted to the upper side of the piston and
worked expansively, forcing it down, and lifting the
weighted pole of the pump at the other end of the beam.
The impetus communicated to the moving mass by the
initial charge of steam, together with the expansive action
of the steam, carries it through the remainder of the stroke,
—the velocity of the piston being gradually retarded till the
end of its course, while the resistance remains the same.
The uplifting of the pole causes a vacuum in the pump into
which the water flows. At the end of the steam-stroke
the exhaust-valve closes, and the equilibrium-valve opens,
admitting the steam above the piston to the under side,
and the pressure is equalized above and below the piston ;
then the weighted pole descends and forces the water out
of the pump; the piston ascends also to the top of the
cylinder, and, just before reaching the top, the equilibrium-
valve closes, and compresses the portion of steam left above
the piston, forming a cushion, to bring the piston to a state
of rest. The outlet-valve from the lower side of the piston
to the condenser is then opened, and fresh steam from the
boiler admitted above the piston, when the piston performs
the next descending stroke. The speed of the. engine is
regulated by a “cataract,” a mechanical appliance connected
with the gearing, which is set in action at every stroke of
the engine, and is adjusted to expend itself, and, at a
suitable interval, to release the detents by which the
614
STEAM-ENGINE.
Pumping- movements of the valve-gearing are controlled. The de-
Engines. tents being disengaged, the steam-valve opens, by means of
the action of the treadle-weights, and the steam is admitted
for the next steam-stroke. All the valves fall open by
means of the treadle-weights, and are closed by means of
tappets.
The “ Victoria” engine, made for the East London
Water-Works, by Messrs Harvey and Co., to the specifica¬
tion of Mr Greaves, the Engineer of the company, is repre¬
sented in Plate XXIV. It is a single-acting beam-engine.
The cylinder A is 100 inches in diameter, and is capable
of making a stroke of 12 feet. The beam B is 36 feet long
and 7 feet 6 inches deep at the middle. The pole c is 50
inches diameter, same stroke as the piston ; d is the pole-
case, 68 inches diameter, with the water supply w, and the
discharging main e, upwards of 4 feet in diameter ; joisthe
piston; i the inlet valve; o the outlet valve; t the tappet
rod, moved by the beam, having tappets to shut the valves,
by means of levers and rods; c the condenser; a the air-
pump ; h the hot well; / the feed-pump ; w inlet into water-
pump ; x exit from pump into mains; v air-vessel on the
mains, to equalise the head of pressure ; d detents, or cross¬
bars on the beam, to limit the stroke of the engine. For
particulars of the boilers, the reader is referred to previous
statements.
The direct-acting pumping-engine, made by Messrs
Harvey and Co., for the Grand Junction Water-Works at
Campden Hill Station (Plate XXIV.), hasa 70-inch cylinder,
with 10 feet stroke; pole 32J inch diameter, with 3 feet
water-pipes. The letters of reference are the same as for
the beam-engine. The pump and valve-gear are worked by
means of the lever L, actuated by connection with the pole.
The engine is supplied with steam from six boilers b, b,
shown in section longitudinally, and endwise in a separate
view on the same plate. The boilers are 5 feet 9 inches
diameter, with 3 feet 6 inches flues ; and are expanded to
6 feet 1 inch, with 3 feet 10 inch fire-places at the furnaces;
s is the steam-chest, to collect the steam from the boilers.
The fire-grates are 6 feet long.
There are many varieties of pumping-engine on a small
scale. Horizontal direct-action engines are in use. Upright
direct action-engines, by Messrs Carrett and Co. of Leeds,
are also much in use, similar in general appearance to
their ordinary upright engine. A new and good system, Portable
by Messrs T. Cowburn and Co., of Manchester (fig. 168), Engiues.
deserves notice. The steam-cylinder and the pump are
fixed against a cast-iron pillar, which carries the crank¬
shaft on the top, and a fly-wheel, from which power may be
taken off* if wanted. The plunger is novel; it is hollow, so
as to admit a second plunger, or ram, to work within it.
Thus a continuous delivery of water is effected.
CHAP. VII. PORTABLE ENGINES.
The term 'portable engines, formerly signifying self-con¬
tained engines, is now used to signify engines placed on
wheels, capable of being moved from place to place, either
by their own power of self-propulsion, or by horse-traction.
They are in general use for agricultural purposes, and are
carried on four broad wheels ; they are made light enough
to be handy and manageable by the staff of an agricultural
establishment. Their boilers are of the locomotive type,
with inside fire-box and flue-tubes, and the cylinder, or
cylinders if two in number, are fixed on the top of the
boiler at one end, and the shaft at the other. The 8 horse¬
power portable-engines, made by Messrs Clayton, Shuttle-
worth, and Co., of Lincoln, are shown in elevation and sec¬
tion in Plate XXVII., in two varieties, from which it is appar¬
ent that, practically, the boiler constitutes the foundation or
basis of the whole structure. Small boilers are proportion¬
ally stronger than large ones; in the latter, independent
frame-work, is needed. Messrs Barrett, Exall, and An-
drewes, of Reading, formerly made their portable-engines on
a bed-plate fixed to the boiler, which, with several advan¬
tages, had the disadvantage of increasing materially the
weight of the engine, and was subsequently abandoned.
In Clayton and Co.’s engine there is one cylinder A, 9 inches
diameter, with 12-inches stroke ; and b, the band-pulley on
the crank-shaft is 5 feet in diameter. The boiler c has a
fire-box 1 foot 6 inches long, 2 feet 7 inches wide inside,
and 2 feet 1 inch in height above the grate. There are 30
flue-tubes 2§ inches outside diameter, 6 feet 4 inches long
within the boiler. The following are the amounts of sur¬
face :—
Heating surface in the fire-box  IS'o square feet.
Do. do. tubes 124,5 „
Total inside surfaces 143 0 „
Area of grate  3‘87 „
The cylinder is placed directly over the fire-box, from
which it is supplied with steam, and the exhaust-pipe from
the cylinder is carried through the boiler into the chimney.
The chimney is made with a joint to fold back over the
boiler, and rest in a crutch, when not required. In the
whole design of this engine there is freedom of access
to and inspection of all parts. Agricultural engines are,
in general features, much alike.
Messrs Clayton and Co. make engines with the cylinders
within the hot smoke-box, and jacketed, from which, no
doubt, the cylinders derive benefit, leading to economy of
fuel.
CHAP. VIII.—LOCOMOTIVE ENGINES.
The general features and characteristics of modern loco¬
motive practice are represented in Plates XXVI., XXVII.,
and XXVIIL, showing English and American engines.
The passenger-locomotive, Plate XXVI., by Messrs Robert
Stephenson and Co., is a type of the prevailing kind of
engines used in this country for passenger-traffic ; and it is
specially adapted for drawing express trains at high velocity.
It has two cylinders coupled to cranks at right angles on the
driving-axle. They are 15f inches diameter, and have 20
inches stroke. The driving-wheels are 6 feet 2 inches
diameter ; so that, at a speed of 50 miles per hour, the
STEAM-ENGINE.
615
Locomo- piston would move at a mean speed of 760 feet per minute ;
five and at 60 miles per hour, it would have a speed of 910 feet
Engines.^ per minute, or three times as much as ordinary stationary
engines. There are 170 flue-tubes 2 inches diameter, and
11 feet 4 inches long, and the heating surface is as follows:—
Inside heating-surface of tubes   915 square feet.
Do. do. fire-box  80 „
Total  995
Area of fire-grate 13-63
The goods-engine, with six coupled wheels, Plates XXVI.
and XXVII., made by Messrs Beyer, Peacock, and Co.,
Manchester, represent in like manner the ordinary form of
goods engine used in this country. The sections and plans
show in detail the construction of the engine. The cylin¬
ders are 16 inches diameter, with 24 inches stroke; the
wheels are 5 feet diameter. The fire-box is 4 feet 3 inches
long, by 3 feet 6 inches wide; there are 191 flue-tubes, 2
inches diameter outside, and 11 feet 7 inches long. The
following are the surfaces :—
Heating surface of fire-box  86-3 square feet.
Do. do. tubes 1052-4 „
Total 1138-7
Area of grate  14-9
>)
19
The following literal references in Plate XXVII. will ex¬
plain the details of the goods engine, a, the cylinder; b, the
driving, or crank axle ; c, the driving-wheels; D, the fire¬
box ; E, the fire-box shell; F, the barrel of the boiler ; g,
the flue-tubes ; H, the steam-pipe from the boiler, pro¬
ceeding from the regulator h, in the dome i, to the smoke-
box k, and thence by branches l to the cylinders ; M, the
blast-pipe; N, the chimney; O, the valve-gear, handled by
the reversing lever p; q, the regulator-handle; R, the
safety-valves ; s, the feed-pumps.
The following formulas, based on experimental data, have
been given for the resistances of engines and trains on
railways, at various speeds. Resistance is divided into two
parts :—a fixed or constant quantity, and a variable quantity,
increasing as the square of the speed. The conditions under
which the formulas are applicable, are—
1. A good sound road.
2. A straight and level road.
3. An average side wind.
4. Engine, tender, and train, in good working order.
Let w = the speed of the train in miles per hour, and r
the total resistance per ton of weight moved. Then, first,
to find the total resistance per ton gross, of the engine,
tender, and train, there is a constant resistance of 8 lb. per
ton, and
R = 8 +
171'
Second. To find the resistance per ton, R', of the train
alone, there is a constant of 6 lb. per ton, and
v2
R' = 6 +
240'
Third. For the resistance per ton (R") of the engine
and tender alone, including machinery-friction, let W = the
weight of the engine and tender in tons, tt>=the weight of
the train in tons, then
R’=<6+w>+((2+6sr>*(^>)>
in which the first member is the resistance of the engine and
tender as carriages simply, and the second member is the
whole machinery-friction, the amount of which varies with
the weight of the train.
• ^*ncHnes> the resistance is increased or dimin¬
ished by gravity, according to the ratio of the incline, and
according as the train ascends or descends.
2. The results obtained by the above formulas must be
increased one-half more, in order to find the resistance
under the ordinary conditions of railways.
The following are examples of the tractive resistance per
ton, gross, of engine, tender, and train, on a level, at various
speeds:—
Speeds.
Miles per hour.
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
Resistance
under superior
Conditions,
lb. per ton.
8-6
10-3
13-2
17-3
22-6
29-0
36-6
Resistance
under ordinary
Conditions,
lb. per ton,
13-0
15-5
20-0
26-0
34-0
43-5
550
• ^ie Preva'^nff types of American locomotives are shown
in Plate XXVIII. for passengers and for goods traffic in the
United States. It is remarkable with what a degree of
unanimity American engineers have matured the designs of
their engines.
For an account of the history of locomotives, their pecu¬
liarities, their performances, and other information, see
Railways.
4 he annexed cut (fig. 169) shows a simple design of
balanced slide-valve, by Mr
Gregory of Lisbon, for loco¬
motives. The back of the 1
valve is formed cylindrically J
with a groove, and a packing
ring is let into the groove
or circular channel, with an
elastic tube of india-rubber
between. By the partial Fig. 169.
compression of this tube the ring is pressed against the
back of the valve-box, and steam-tightness is produced,
preventing the steam from pressing on the protected por¬
tion of the back of the valve. This is an object of con¬
siderable importance.
Classifica¬
tion of
Steam-
Boilers.
SECTION V.—CLASSIFICATION OP STEAM-BOILERS,
WITH EXAMPLES.
In the course of the preceding section on steam-engines,
a few examples of boilers have been illustrated and de¬
scribed, and performances recorded. It is the object of
this section to complete the survey of steam-boilers. Boilers
may be classed, generally, as horizontal and as upright
boilers, in which the direction of the heating surface is re¬
spectively horizontal and vertical. Or they may be classed
as open flue-boilers, and as multi-tubular boilers. But it is
not necessary to follow any particular classification ; a con¬
secutive notice of each kind will suffice.
The Waggon Boiler.—This form of boiler has already
been illustrated and described in Part I. It is suitable for
low pressure only, and was for a long time the most gener¬
ally used of all boilers.
The Cylindrical Egg-end boiler, fig. 65, has been in ex¬
tensive use, but is now used chiefly at collieries, where
simplicity is a particular object, and fuel of small value.
This boiler is 4 feet 6 inches diameter, and 30 feet long.
The grate is 6 feet 6 inches long, and 3 feet wide, and the
flue proceeds direct to the other end. The form of this
boiler is favourable for strength and safety, but it requires
great length of boiler to provide sufficient heating surface.
The steam is taken from the receiver at the centre, with a
stop-valve above. There are two safety-valves towards the
front, and a man-hole behind; and the feed-water is intro¬
duced at the far end.
The Retort Boiler, the production of Messrs Dunn and
Co., Manchester, is composed of a series of independent
cylinders placed side by side (figs. 170), about 19 inches in
diameter, and upwards of 9 feet long, with cast-iron ends.
They all communicate upwards with a steam-receiver above
616 STEAM-ENGINE.
Classifies- the furnace. This class of boiler is undoubtedly safer than
Figs. 170.
the ordinary large boiler, and is equally efficient in evapo¬
rative performances. It is compact and portable.
The Cornish Boiler has already been illustrated and
described in the previous section.
The Cylindrical Double-Flue Boiler, Plate XX., is
in general use in the north of England. It has two fires,
one in each flue a, a, which are fed with fuel alternately,
so that the smoke from one furnace mixes with, and is
consumed by, the hot gases and air from the other furnace.
The products of combustion descend and pass through the
flues c, c, twice along the whole length of the boiler, and
thence by the tunnel T to the chimney. The steam is
taken from a dome d, in order to insure its dryness, and is
conveyed by the steam-pipe s s to the engine. The other
arrangements are similar to those in the Saltaire boilers.
m, man-hole ; k, additional man-hole ; f, safety-valves ; g,
spring-balance ; h, glass water-gauge; i, blow-off cock;
r, r, feed-pipe ; v, v, v, gussets, or stays.
In this drawing the flues a, a, a, are represented with
the strong ribs of angle iron b, b, b, b, as recommended by
Mr Fairbairn, for obviating the dangers of collapse. The
flue, as shown, is in accordance with the laws deduced in
the experimental researches recently conducted by him,
according to which the strength is three times that of the
same flue constructed in the ordinary method without in¬
termediate supports; and the light thrown upon the sub¬
ject by these experiments is likely to cause a considerable
revolution in the construction of flues. (See Experimental
Researches on the Collapse of Boiler-Flues, by Mr Fair¬
bairn, 1858.)
Multitubular Horizontal Boilers.—Of these, the Saltaire
boilers, introduced by Mr Fairbairn, Plates XVIII. and XX.,
and already described, are examples of one kind—the double
flue in conjunction with the multitubular arrangement. An
effective and compact plan of boiler, introduced and con- Classifka-
structed by Messrs Smith and Coventry, Manchester, is tion of
shown in figs. 171 and 172, in which the boiler consists of a
cylindrical shell, and furnace beneath, with return multitu- v 01
bular flues through the boiler, ending in a smoke-box at the
front. The safety-valve of this boiler, detailed in fig. 173, is
Fig. 173.
worthy of note. It is placed on knife-edges, and the valve,
being spherical, is free to suit itself to the seat.
Agricultural boilers, and locomotive boilers, multitubular,
have already been described.
The Butterly boiler, already described (figs. 79, 80), is
frequently used.
Varieties of Boilers.—Galloway’s boiler (fig. 174) is made
Fig. 174.
with a large oval flue within the boiler, having a number of
vertical conical water-passages uniting the top and the bot¬
tom ; so that a free circulation of water is maintained, and
a considerable addition to the heating surface is effected.
It is a species of “ water-tube” boiler, and there is no doubt
it produces good results. There is a double furnace, so as
to allow of alternate firing, and the presence of the water-
tubes in the thoroughfare of the draft promotes the mixture
and combustion of the gases. A steam-reservoir is placed
upon the boiler.
In Cowburn’s cellular boiler (fig. 175), the internal flue
consists of a number of compartments or cells, connected
by short wrought-iron pipes to each other, and to the lower
STEAM-ENGINE.
617
Classifica- side of the boiler. There are two distinct furnaces, one
tion of within the flue, and one below the boiler, and the flame
and smoke from the two furnaces commingle within the
cells, and become effectually consumed. The flue, by
being subdivided, as shown, yields to expansion elastically
endwise ; and as, in addition to this advantage, the boiler is
more uniformly heated by the distribution of the fires in¬
side and outside, the over-straining of joints is prevented,
and the chances of leakage and rupture are diminished.
The safety-valve of this boiler, detailed in figs. 176 and 177,
is worthy of note. It is direct-
acting, without levers ; is freely
suspended, so preventing adhe¬
sion or sticking to its seat, and
readily adjusts itself to the seat,
the bearing surfaces being sphe¬
rical. The fusible plug, or valve
(figs. 178, 179), to give warning
in case of low water, is another
good feature. It consists of an
inverted brass cup, fixed on the
top of the hottest part of the flue, with a cap screwed on,
and numerously perforated,
screwed, and filled with block-
tin. When the water in the
boiler falls, accidentally, below
the level of the cap, the plugs Fig. its. Fig. m.
are melted out by the heat, and the steam rushing into the
furnace, gives the needful warning of danger.
Mr Goodfellow of Hyde, in order to prevent the unequal
expansion and straining of flue-boilers, contracts the flue
at each end conically (figs. 180), so as to admit of elastic
action. It is difficult to perceive how, with such a gentle
taper, there can be sufficient scope for the elastic move-
Fig.176.
Fig. 177.
ment. The steeper taper employed in the Cornish boilers,
exemplified in Plate XXV., is more likely to be of service,
as in fact it has been proved to be sufficient to prevent injuri¬
ous overstraining of those boilers.
Upright Boilers.—The ordinary form of upright boiler
is cylindrical, with the axis vertical. An internal fire-box is
placed near the bottom, and a faggotof small tubes proceeds
from the crown of the fire-box to the roof of the boiler, and
thence to the chimney. The direct upward draft thus oc¬
casioned, though it quickens combustion, and excites a high
temperature, is wasteful, inasmuch as the heat is too rapidly
conveyed, and much of it is carried away into the chimney.
Expedients for detaining or deflecting the current are found
to operate with advantage. Messrs Dunn and Co. have pro¬
duced an effective boiler(figs. 181),on the principleof down¬
draught ; the boiler is cylindrical, with a plain domed fire¬
box within, divided transversely by two water-partitions;
there are two grates, one on each side, and the gases as¬
cending from them meet at the crown, are deflected, and
descend through the vertical flue. The shell of the boiler
VOL. xx
is 4 feet 6 inches diameter, and 10 feet high ; the fire-box is Principles
3 feet 10 inches diameter, with a total height of 7 feet of Thermo-
T he segmental grates have a versed sine of 15f inches, and Dynamics,
have a combined area equal to 7 square feet.
The upright boiler of Messrs Armstrong and Bowman,
the former of whom is the well-known authority on boilers,
contains a number of transverse double-cone steam-genera¬
tors (figs. 182), within which water circulates, which baffle
Fig. 183.
and divert the ascending hot currents; the ends of these
generators project into the surrounding water space of the
boiler, and so throw off the steam
which is discharged from them, out r? ^
ol contact with the vertical sides of
the fire-box. This boiler is found
to work effectively.
An objection to ordinary conical
safety-valves, directly weighted, fig.
183, or by a lever (fig. 184), is, that
they do not rise with a sufficient degree of freedom to let
escape the surplus steam, k n
and the pressure in the
boiler consequently rises
considerably above that to
which the valve is weighted.
Mr R. Bodmer has removed
this objection, in the design (fig. 185), by admitting water or
steam, at the whole pressure in
the boiler, under the valve,
through an independent tube,
free from the interference of
the rushing steam. Thus the ^
valve is lifted well off its seat,
and a free exit provided for
the steam. The valve is in
the form of a hollow cylinder, fitting exactly, but easily,
over a piston or plug, on which it slides vertically.
Fig. 184.
Fig. 185.
SECTION F/.—THE WORK OF STEAM IN THE STEAM-
ENGINE.
CHAP. I.—PRINCIPLES OF THERMO-DYNAMICS.
The following general outline of the principles of thermo¬
dynamics—a science of recent origin, and underlying the
whole theory of heat-engines—is abstracted from Professor
Rankine’s work on the Steam-Engine and other Prime
Movers, which contains the first systematic exposition of
the science.
4 i
618
STEAM-ENGINE.
Principles Thermo-dynamics defined.—It is a matter of ordinary
of Thermo- observation, that heat, by expanding bodies, is a source of
Dynamics, mechanical energy; and, conversely,that mechanical energy,
being expended either in compressing bodies or in friction,
is a source of heat. The reduction of the laws, according
to which such phenomena take place, to a physical theory,
or connected system of principles, constitutes what is called
the science of thermo-dynamics.
First Law of Thermo-dynamics.—Heat and mechanical
energy are mutually convertible; and heat requires for its
production, and produces by its disappearance, mechanical
energy in the proportion of 772 foot-pounds for each
British unit of heat (Joule’s equivalent); the said unit
being the amount of heat required to raise the tempera¬
ture of one pound of liquid water by one degree of Fahr.,
near the temperature of the maximum density. This law
may be considered as a particular case of the application of
two more general laws, namely,—1. All forms of energy
are convertible. 2. The total energy of any substance or
system cannot be altered by the mutual actions of its
parts.
Dynamical Expression of Quantities of Heat.—All quan¬
tities of heat, such as the specific heat of any substance, or
the latent heat corresponding to any physical effect, or any
other of the quantities of heat treated of, may be expressed
dynamically, that is, in units of work, by multiplying their
values in ordinary units of heat by Joule’s equivalent. The
following are examples of this mode of expressing quan¬
tities of heat, which is by far the most convenient in treat¬
ing of thermo-dynamical questions:—
I'oot-Pounds.
Latent heat of evaporation of 1 pound of water,
from and at 212°  745,812
Total heat of combustion of 1 pound of carbon  11,194,000
Total Actual Heat.—Let a substance, by the expendi¬
ture of energy in friction, be brought from a condition of
total privation of heat to any particular condition as to heat.
Then, if from the total energy so expended, there is sub¬
tracted, the mechanical work performed by the action
of the substance on external bodies, through changes of its
volume and figure, during such heating; secondly, the
mechanical work due to mutual actions between the par¬
ticles of the substance itself during such heating; the
remainder will represent the energy which is employed in
making the substance hot, and which might be made to
reappear as ordinary mechanical energy, if it were possible
to reduce the substance to a state of total privation of heat.
This remainder is the quantity called the total actual heat
of the substance, being the total energy, or capacity for
performing work, which the substance possesses in virtue
of being hot.
Second Law of Thermo-dynamics.—If the total actual
heat of a homogeneous and uniformly hot substance be
conceived to be divided into any number of equal parts,
the effects of those parts in causing work to be performed
are equal.
This law may be considered as a particular case of a
general law, applicable to every kind of actual energy; that
is, capacity for performing work, constituted by a certain
condition of each particle of a substance, how small soever,
independently of the presence of other particles (such as
the energy of motion).
Absolute Temperature—Specific Heat, Real and Appa¬
rent.— Temperature is a function depending on the ten¬
dency of bodies to communicate the condition of heat to
each other. Two bodies are at equal temperatures, when
the tendencies of each to make the other hotter are equal.
All substances absolutely devoid of heat are at the same
temperature. Let this be called the absolute zero of heat;
and let the scale of temperature be so graduated, that for
a given homogeneous substance each degree shall corre¬
spond to an equal increment of actual heat. This mode of Principles
graduation necessarily leads to the same scale of tempera- of The™io.
tore for all substances. The amount of actual heat ex- Dynamic8-
pressed in units of work, which corresponds in a given sub- V>—
stance to one degree of absolute temperature, is the real
dynamical specific heat of that substance, and is a con¬
stant quantity for all temperatures. The total quantity of
mechanical energy required to raise the temperature of
unity of weight of a substance by one degree, generally in¬
cludes, besides the real specific heat, work performed in
overcoming molecular forces and external pressures. This
is the apparent dynamical specific heat, and may be con¬
stant or variable. Joule’s equivalent is the apparent dyna¬
mical specific heat of liquid water at and near its maximum
density ; and it is probably equal sensibly to the real speci¬
fic heat of that substance. The real specific heat of each
substance is constant at all densities, so long as the substance
retains the same condition, solid, liquid, or gaseous ; but a
change of real specific heat, sometimes considerable, often
accompanies the change between any two of these con¬
ditions. From the mutual proportionality of actual heat
and absolute temperature there follows:—
The Second Law of Thermo-dynamics, expressed with
reference to absolute temperature. If the absolute tempera¬
ture of any uniformly hot substance be divided into any
number of equal parts, the effects of those parts in causing
work to be performed are equal.
The first and second laws virtually comprise the whole
theory of thermo-dynamics.
Of Heat Potentially, and Thermo-dynamic Functions.—
The second law of thermo-dynamics may also be expressed
in the following form:—The work performed by the dis¬
appearance of heat during any indefinitely small variation
in the state of a substance, is expressed by the product of
the absolute temperature into the variation of a certain
function, which function is the rate of variation of the
effective work performed with temperature ; that is to say,
in Professor Rankine’s notation, let U = the effective work
performed, r = the absolute temperature, J = Joule’s equi¬
valent, A = the quantity of heat in common thermal units,
H = the same quantity of heat in foot-pounds, k — the
real dynamic specific heat of the substance; and make
~t~ =F ; then the work performed by the disappearance
of heat is r e? F. This function F has been called the heat
potential of the given substance for the kind of work under
consideration. Now, let the substance both perform work
and undergo a variation of absolute temperature cfr; then
the whole heat which it must receive from an external
source of heat to produce those two effects simultaneouly, is
J dh = dYi~k dr -Vt dY — t d
in which , , . . dU
0 = £xhyp. logT + -^-.
is called the thermo-dynamic function of the substance
for the kind of work in question, and sometimes the heat-
factor. Ihe above equation is the general equation of
thermo-dyna m ics.
Principal Applications of ihe Laws of the Expansive
Action of Heat.—The relation between the temperature,
pressure, and volume, of 1 pound of any particular sub¬
stance being known by experiment, the principles of thermo¬
dynamics serve to compute the quantity of heat which will
be absorbed or rejected by 1 pound of that substance
under given circumstances; and, conversely, in some cases,
when the quantities of heat absorbed or rejected under
given circumstances are known by experiment, the same
principles serve to determine relations between the tem¬
perature, pressure, and density of the substances. The
chief subjects to which the principles of the expansive ac¬
tion of heat are applicable are the following:—Real and
STEAM-ENGINE.
Principles apparent specific heat, the heating and cooling of gases
of Thermo- an(] vapours by compression and expansion ; the velocity
Dynamics. soun(j jn gases ; the free expansion of gases ; the flow of
gases through orifices and pipes; the latent and total heat
of evaporation of fluids ; the latent heat of fusion ; the
efficiency of thermo-dynamic engines.
Analysis of the Efficiency of Heat-Engines.—The total
heat of combustion of the fuel is expended in any given
engine in producing the following effects, whose sum is
equal to the heat so expended :—
1. The waste heat of the furnace.
2. The necessarily rejected heat of the engine, being the
excess of the whole heat communicated to the working
fluid by each pound of fuel burned, above the portion of
that heat which permanently disappears, being replaced by
mechanical energy.
3. The heat wasted by the engine, whether by con¬
duction or by nonfulfilment of the conditions of maximum
efficiency.
4. The useless work of the engine employed in over¬
coming friction and other prejudicial resistances.
5. The useful work.
Efficiency of the Fluid in an Elementary Heat-Engine.
—An elementary engine is one in which the reception of
heat by the fluid takes place wholly at one absolute tem¬
perature Tj, and its rejection wholly at another (lower) ab¬
solute temperature T2. Consequently, in such an engine
the change between those two limiting temperatures must
be made entirely by compression and expansion of the fluid.
Let H^the heat received by the fluid from the furnace
at each stroke, H2 = the heat rejected at each stroke, and
abstracted (as by a jet of cold water in the condenser of a
steam-engine) ; then the efficiency of the engine is—
_ T, — T2 _ tA-t2
Hi T1 ^1 + 4610,2’
in which tl and t2 are the higher and lower temperatures
by Fahrenheit’s scale. This equation expresses the law
of the efficiency of elementary thermo-dynamic engines,
viz.:—
The heat transformed into mechanical energy,—
Is to the whole heat received by the fluid,—
As the range of temperature,—•
Is to the absolute temperature at which heat is received.
Heat-Engine of Maximum Efficiency.—Between given
limits of temperature, the efficiency of a thermo-dynamic
engine is the greatest possible when the whole reception of
heat takes place at the higher limit, and the whole rejection
of heat at the lower; that is to say, when the engine is an
elementary engine, and the efficiency of the fluid in such
an engine is independent of the nature of the fluid em¬
ployed.
Heat Economiser, or Regenerator.—To fulfil strictly the
above condition of maximum efficiency between given
limits of temperature, the elevation of the temperature of
the fluid must be performed wholly by compression, and
the depression of its temperature wholly by expansion:
operations which are, in many cases, impracticable from
the great bulk of cylinders which their performance would
require. This difficulty is almost entirely avoided by the
following process, for producing alternate elevation and
depression of temperature with a small expenditure of heat,
invented about the year 1816, by Dr Robert Stirling, and
subsequently improved and modified by Mr James Stirling,
Captain Ericsson, Mr C. W. Siemens, and others. The fluid
whose temperature is to be lowered is passed through the
interstices of an apparatus, called an economiser or regene¬
rator, formed by a number of thin plates of metal or other
solid conducting substance, or by a network of wires, expos-
ing a great surface within a small space. The material of
the economiser becomes heated by the cooling of the fluid.
619
When the temperature of the fluid is again to be raised, it Prelimi-
is passed through the interstices of the economiser in the nary,
contrary direction, and the heat which it had previously
given out is in part restored to it. It is impossible to per¬
form this process absolutely without waste. In some expe¬
riments by Mr Siemens on air, the waste of heat at each
stroke was about ^th part of the heat ultimately ab¬
stracted from and restored to the air, and in the air-engines
of the ship Ericsson about -j^th.
Air-Engines.—The ease with which air is obtained in
any quantity, and its safety from explosion at high tempera¬
tures, have induced many inventors to devise engines in
which it is the working fluid. Very few, however, of these
engines have been brought into practical operation, owing
chiefly to the difficulty of obtaining a sufficiently rapid con¬
vection of heat to and from the mass of air employed, and
to the necessity for using a more bulky cylinder than is
required for a steam-engine of the same power, and with
the same maximum pressure.
Such, very summarily, are the principles and the scope
of the modern science of thermo-dynamics, as propounded
by Professor Rankine, and investigated by him at consider¬
able length in his work on Prime Movers. His treatise
embraces also, in detail, the applications of the power of
steam in the steam-engine, and the results of his investiga¬
tions will be referred to in the sequel as occasion may
arise.
CHAP. II. PRELIMINARY.
In calculations of the duty of steam in a cylinder, the
back-pressure on the piston, whether arising from the at¬
mosphere or from a condenser, is an essential element.
The piston of an engine, in fact, works between two pres¬
sures, and continues in motion, or has a tendency to do so,
as long as the pressure in the boiler is greater than that in
the condenser, or in the exhaust passage; and when steam
is very greatly expanded in a condensing-engine, a low
pressure in the condenser is no less necessary than a high
pressure in the boiler. If all losses and difficulties inci¬
dental to, and perhaps in some degree inseparable from, the
use of steam of very high pressure, be neglected, then it
must be maintained that the highest pressure in the boiler,
coupled with the lowest pressure in the condenser, would
give the highest duty for a given quantity of heat, provided
the steam is expanded in the cylinder from the greater
pressure down to, or nearly down to, the lower pressure.
The term “ vacuum,” it may be remarked, is liable to a
double interpretation, signifying either the absolute pressure
in the condenser, or the difference between this and the
atmospheric pressure. Now, in questions affecting the
quantity of work of steam, and its efficiency in the steam-
engine, there are the total pressures respectively in the two
separate vessels which require to be considered; that is to
say, the initial pressure in the cylinder, and the total pres¬
sure in the condenser, into which the exhausted steam is
propelled by the superior pressure on the other face of the
piston. If the pressure of the atmosphere were 10 lb. or
30 lb., in place of 14'7 lb. per square inch, as it is, it would
not at all affect the action of a condensing engine, farther
than slightly diminishing or increasing the force required
to work the air-pump, and causing a greater or less weight
to be placed upon the safety-valve, in order to obtain the
same total pressure in the boiler. When the mercury in
an ordinary barometer is observed to stand at a height of
30 inches, and the mercury in another tube communicating
with the condenser of a steam-engine, at a height of 5
inches, instead of describing the conditions of the case as
representing a vacuum of 25 inches of mercury, it would
afford a clearer conception of the matter to consider that
the total pressure in the condenser is equal to 5 inches of
620
Work of
Steam
without
Expansion,
STEAM-ENGINE.
mercury, while the total pressure in the boiler is equal
to 30 inches of mercury plus the load on the safety-valve.
In short, the operations of a condensing engine are practi¬
cally independent of the incidental variations of atmospheric
pressure.
Again, the operations of a non-condensing engine, ex¬
hausting into the atmosphere, are referable to the atmo¬
spheric pressure, as it affords the datum or base line to
which the expansive and exhaust pressures should be ap¬
proximated, and below which they cannot be extended. It
is usual, therefore, in dealing with non-condensing engines,
to designate the pressure of steam by the difference or
excess of its pressure above that of the atmosphere,—147
lb. absolute pressure per square inch being adopted for
the zero of the non-condensing scale. The round number,
15 lb., is occasionally adopted.
CHAP. in.—THE WORK OF STEAM WITHOUT EXPANSION.
The development of heat into pressure and motion by
the media of the water in the boiler and the piston of the en¬
gine may, sinking details, be thus concisely illustrated. Let
abed (fig. 186) be a tall cylindrical upright ves¬
sel, open at the top, and having one square foot ”*
of area of base or cross section ; and e a piston or
disc, without weight, exactly fitting the vessel, and
capable of moving up and down without friction.
Let there be 1 pound weight of water at the bot¬
tom of the vessel, with the piston resting upon it.
If a fire be lighted beneath the vessel, and heat
communicated to the water, the temperature of
the water will be raised to 212° Fahr. before any
steam is generated, being subject to the atmo¬
spheric pressure on the piston, of 14-7 lb. per
square inch. When the temperature reaches 212°
1'ahr., the heat of the fire being continued, it will
not rise higher, but, instead of an ascending tem¬
perature, steam will be formed and disengaged
under the piston; the piston will be raised, with
its atmospheric load of 14‘7 lb. per square inch,
or 2116-8 lb. on the 1 square foot area of the pis¬
ton, through successive stages, 1 foot high, to
the positions e', e," e \ until it reaches an ele¬
vation of 26-36 feet above the bottom of the
cylinder, when the whole of the pound of water will
be evaporated, having a constant elasticity throughout
the process, of 14-7 lb. per square inch, and a temperature
of 212°. In this instance, the boiler and the engine are
represented by one vessel, in which the piston and the
water are brought into direct contact, and the intervention
of pipes or passages for the steam is dispensed with. The
work done or duty performed is the raising of a weight of
2116-8 lb, through a height of 26-36 feet, equal to 55,799
foot-pounds, by 1 pound of saturated steam at atmospheric
pressure.
Work of Steam without Expansion and without Con¬
densation—This duty or work done is performed by the
steam pushing its way into space, and repelling or pushing
aside whatever resisting medium is opposed to its develop¬
ment,—the resistance in the case under consideration being
the pressure of the atmosphere. Suppose the experiment
to be repeated, with the addition of a weight on the piston
equal to the pressure of the atmosphere, making, say, in
round numbers, a total incumbent pressure of 30 lb. per
square inch, or 4320 lb. absolute weight on the square foot,
the area of the piston. On the application of heat, the tem-
peiature of the water will be gradually raised to 250'4° Fahr.,
when the temperature will become stationary, and evapora¬
tion will commence, and will proceed until the whole of
t le water is evaporated. At this stage, the piston, with its
load, will have been raised to a height of 13-46 feet; and
the work done will be the raising of a weight of 4320 lb w t
though a height of 13-46 feet, equal to 58,147 foot-pounds' s°team
by 1 pound of saturated steam at a total pressure of 30 without
lb. per square inch, of which about a half is only atmo- Expansion,
spheric resistance, or exactly 14.7 lb. x 144 x 13-46 feet=
28,492 foot-pounds, having a balance of 29,655 foot-pounds
of tangible work done, which will be all the available use¬
ful duty of the pound of steam, supposing it then to be
discharged. Generally, whatever be the load imposed on
the piston, a deduction must be made from the total duty
of an amount necessary for repelling the atmosphere, to
find the available useful duty.
Such are precisely the conditions of a non-condensing
steam-engine worked without expansion, the steam being
admitted behind the piston throughout the whole of the
stroke, and then discharged into the atmosphere. The
cylinder of a steam-engine, it is true, is placed at a con¬
venient distance from the boiler, and not immediately over
the water, as in the experimental apparatus; the differ¬
ence is, however, only circumstantial, the steam is gene¬
rated at one end of the boiler, and it goes out simulta¬
neously at the other.
To find how much of the whole quantity of heat con¬
sumed in generating the steam, is, by this non-condensing
non-expansive process, converted into useful effect, let it
be assumed that the water is supplied to the boiler at a
boiling temperature, 212° Fahr.; then, according to the
foimula for the total heat of steam, of 30 lb. pressure per
square inch, and 250-4° Fahr.
H = 1113-4 - 212-9 + ’305t = 900-5 + ‘305t;
and the total heat given to the boiler for 1 pound of
water evaporated, is 976’9 degrees, or units of heat. On
the contrary, the tangible work done, or useful effect, has
been found to amount to 29,655 foot-pounds, or to 29,655
-^-772 = 38-4 units of heat. The loss of heat, that is to
say, the unappropriated heat, is therefore 976-9-38-4 =
938-5 units thrown away, and the proportion of heat
utilised is only about ^g-th of the total heat expended.
The amount of heat expended in repelling the atmo¬
sphere, expressed in force, was found to be 28,492 foot¬
pounds; or, expressed in units, it is 28,492-^772 = 36-9
units. If this be added to the heat utilised, the sum
36-9+ 38-4 = 75-3 units, expresses the total exertion of the
steam in forcing its way into existence behind the piston.
Of course, the generation of the steam demands the same
exertion, whether it takes place behind a piston, or under a
safety-valve loaded to the given pressure, through which
the surplus steam escapes ; and the whole amount of heat
supplied to the boiler in the formation of 1 pound of
steam of 30 lb. total pressure per square inch, must, there¬
fore, be distributed as follow:—
. _ . Units of Heat.
1. In overcoming the molecular attraction, and sepa¬
rating the particles, 696,020 foot-pounds —
772=...    901-6
2. In repelling the incumbent pressure; in other
words, to raise a load of 4320 pounds through
a height of 13-46 feet=58,147 foot-pounds
-*-772= r.  75-3
The total heat expended  976-9
Of all this heat, there is, as already estimated, only about
a half of the second and smaller portion utilised by a com¬
mon non-condensing non-expansive steam-engine. Even
this twenty-fifth part of the total is too favourable an esti¬
mate, as applied to engines in ordinary condition, because
there is usually a portion of the steam condensed in the
cylinder, or, it may be, burdened with priming, and a back¬
pressure is caused which still further diminishes the effi¬
ciency. The annexed indicator-diagram, fig. 187, was taken
from a small non-condensing steam-engine, from which it
STEAM-ENGINE.
621
Work of appears that, of the whole sensible pressure, 20 lb. above
Steam the atmosphere, exerted on
without t}ie piston, 5 lb. was de-
Expansion. stroyecj by back-pressure,
leaving only an effective
pressure of 15 lb. on the  
piston, or only three-fourths Fig. 137.
of the whole sensible pressure.
If, under the same conditions, steam of 45 lb. total pres¬
sure be raised from water supplied at 212°, and worked at
that pressure in the cylinder, it is found, by a similar cal¬
culation, that for each pound of steam consumed, 77 units
of heat are absorbed in repelling the incumbent pressure ;
of this only 25 units are expended on the atmospheric
resistance, and the remainder, 52 units, may be utilised on
the piston, being one-third more than with 30 lb. steam,
and constituting one-nineteenth of the whole of the heat,
984,2°, supplied to the water in generating steam.
Again, with steam of 60 lb. total pressure, by the same
calculation, 78'5 units of heat are absorbed in repelling
incumbent pressure, of which only 19 units are expended
on the atmospheric resistance, leaving SO’S units for useful
work, or a little over one-half more than with 30 lb. steam.
There is a common notion, that in proportion as steam
of higher pressure exceeds the atmospheric pressure, the
efficiency for useful work increases in the same ratio. This
is true only of the capacity of a cylinder of given dimen¬
sions for delivering useful work. But it is very far from
the truth if applied to the efficiency of a given weight of
steam ; for, in the examples above, it has been found ap¬
proximately that—
For 1 pound weight of steam of 30, 45, 60 lb. total pressure.
The effective useful pressures are 15, 30, 45 „
In the ratio of  1, 2, 3 „
But the useful quantities of
work are only 38-4, 52 0,59'5 units of heat.
Only in the ratio of about  1, l-3, 1’5 „
Showing, that with three times the excess of pressure above
the atmosphere, there is only one and a half times the use¬
ful work, with equal weights of steam. And, in order to
get double the useful work from the same weight of steam,
worked, of course, in the manner which has formed the
subject of this chapter, it would be necessary to introduce
high-pressed steam of 180 lb. absolute pressure per square
inch, compared with steam of 30 lb. per inch.
Work of Steam without Expansion, hut with Condensa¬
tion.—That is to say, the steam is supposed to be con¬
densed within the cylinder (fig. 186), after the piston has
been raised through the height due to its volume, against
the resistance of the atmosphere; and the development of
useful duty from the steam, heretofore terminated on having
raised the piston with its incumbent load, comprising the
unprofitable atmospheric resistance, may be further pro¬
moted. Let the material weight placed on the piston be
removed, and the piston be attached to a rising weight
over a pulley nearly equal to the amount of atmospheric
pressure on the piston, or 2116,8 lb.; then, if an absolute
vacuum be established within the cylinder, the piston will
descend to the bottom, and the suspended weight will rise
through a height equal to the descent. This weight may,
for present purposes, be supposed to equal the atmospheric
pressure, and the additional work done will be equal to
2116,8 lb., multiplied by the descent of the piston, or the
ascent of the weight, in feet; being, in fact, equal to the
work before unprofitably expended in opposing the atmo¬
sphere. The work thus redeemed was found to be, for 1
pound weight of 30 lb. steam under the piston, 28,492
foot-pounds, or 36’9 units; for 45 lb. steam, 25 units of
heat; for 6 lb. steam, 19 units.
These reclaimed quantities of work being added to the
useful work previously done in raising the piston, the total
useful work done would be—
For 30 lb. steam  75-3 units. Work of
For 45 lb. steam...  77' ,, Gaseous
For 60 lb. steam  78'5 „ Stea^n with
being, in any case, just about one-thirteenth of the heat Expansion,
supplied to the boiler.
The above conclusions are directly applicable to the
steam-engine; and it appears, that when steam is worked
in a common steam-engine, in direct continued connection
with the boiler, non-expansively, that is to say, without
applying its inherent expansive energy, there is only a
small fraction, about a thirteenth, of all the heat given to
the boiler, converted into useful work on the piston, with
the advantage of a perfect vacuum behind the piston ; and
the proportion of useful work is still less than that if the
steam be exhausted into the atmosphere. These deduc¬
tions are based on otherwise favourable conditions.
CHAP. IY.—THE WORK OF GASEOUS STEAM WITH EXPANSION.
The action of gaseous or superheated steam, maintained
at a constant temperature within the cylinder, is based on
comparatively simple conditions. The total pressure of
gaseous steam, when the temperature is constant, falls in
proportion as the volume by expansion is increased, the
pressure being inversely as the volume ; and, consequently,
the product of the diminishing pressure by the increasing
volume, at all points of the stroke, is constant; and, for
1 pound weight of steam, it is equal to times the ab¬
solute temperature ; or, PV= 85-4 T. This constant re¬
lation of the pressure and volume of expanding steam may
be represented diagrammatically on a base line ab (fig. 188),
representing volume, which is supposed to be
developed in a straight line, in a cylinder, of
which ab is the length of stroke. Neglecting
clearance for the present, let steam be ad¬
mitted into the cylinder at a total pressure of
10 lb., represented by the ordinate ac, and for
a space of 1 foot in length represented by A d,
then the rectangular area aged represents
the product of the pressure and volume of the fl
Fig. 188.
steam admitted into the cylinder. Let the steam be ex¬
panded at a constant temperature into double the volume
A d, and to half the pressure dc\ the area of the elongated
rectangle Kd ec, will be equal to that of the initial rectangle
A e. Expanding, further, to three volumes a d!, and to the
third part of the initial pressure d'e, the still more extended
rectangle A e' is equal to each of the others. The expan¬
sion may be further extended to four and five volumes, and
to a fourth and a fifth of the pressure, constituting the
rectangles Ae" and A e"; and while the products of the
pressure and volume are always the same, represented by
the successively elongated rectangles, the elevations de, d' J,
&c., will correctly represent the successively reduced pres¬
sures for the several increments of expansion. It is ob¬
vious, that any number of intermediate pressures may b§^
interpolated by the simple process of dividing the product
of the initial pressure and volume by the distance traversed
by the piston, and that they may be joined by a curve Ee",
traced through their summits, representing the continuous
expansion curve of the steam, which would be traced by
the pencil of an indicator applied to the cylinder. This
curve of expansion is, according to the principle of its con¬
struction—the equality of the rectangles—a portion of a
hyperbola; and it may be indefinitely extended at either
end, to embrace on the one part intense pressures and small
volumes, and, on the other part, very low pressures and
large volumes. In the extension upward of the curve into
622
STEAM-ENGINE.
Work of the higher pressures, it would only be correct as an expo-
SteamwUh nen*: t^le mut;na^ relation of pressure and volume, on the
Expansion, understanding that a proportionally high uniform tempera-
v In ^ > ture should be adopted, to ensure the gaseous condition of
the steam. A curve constructed on this principle, though
indefinitely extended in either direction, does not meet or
touch the base line ab, or the vertical AC.
As the rectangular area AE, in the foregoing figure,
expresses the work done by the steam in entering and oc¬
cupying the cylinder, the hyperbolic area de ef'e"' likewise
expresses the work done by the steam by expansion against
the piston. This area, and consequently the quantity of
work done, may be computed from the known relations of
hyperbolic superficies with their base lines, according to
which, if the base lines ad, a d, xd\ &c. (fig. 188), extend
in a geometrical ratio, the successive areas d e, De', &c.,
increase in an arithmetical ratio. If, for example, the lines
or volumes ad, xd, &c., are as 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, &c., the
areas d e, De, &c., are as 1, 2, 3, 4, &c. On the prin¬
ciples of logarithms, which represent, in arithmetical ratio,
numbers naturally in geometrical ratio, special tables of
hyperbolic logarithms are compiled, to facilitate the calcula¬
tion of areas of power due to various degrees of expansion,—
such logarithms being, in fact, direct expressions of the pro¬
portion borne by the expansive duty pertaining to different
degrees of expansion, to the work done by the initial volume
of steam. If, for example, the initial volume be expressed
by 1, and the total volumes by expansion to different de¬
grees be represented by
2, 4, 8, 16, &c.,
the hyperbolic logarithms of these numbers are,
•693, 1-386, 2-079, 2-772,
which are in arithmetical proportion thus—
1, 2, 3, 4,
and express the actual ratios of the entire expansive duties
successively to the initial duty of the steam in entering and
occupying the cylinder previous to expansion. The lo¬
garithms, it will be noted, are, in each case, the logarithm
of the number expressing the ratio of expansion, or the
number of times the initial volume is expanded.
It is needful, of course, to make a deduction for the un¬
avoidable back-pressure in the condenser, to find the effec¬
tive duty of the steam. Suppose a cylinder 5 feet long,
with 1 square inch area of piston; steam being admitted,
as before, at 10 lb. pressure ; let the back-pressure be taken
as a uniform resistance of 2 lb. throughout the stroke, and
applied to the diagram of duty, constructed as before, as in
fig. 189, where the 2 lb. zone of resist¬
ance is shaded. It is plain, in the first
place, that if the steam, after following
the piston through the first foot of the
stroke A D, be exhausted into the con¬
denser, with a residual pressure of 2
lb., the effective pressure is 10 — 2 = 8
lb., and the work done is equal to 8
foot-pounds. But let the steam be
expanded through the remaining four-fifths of the stroke;
then—
At the end of the  1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th foot of stroke
The total pressures would be 10 5 3£ 2£ 2 lb. per sq. inch.
The back-pressures  2 2 2 2 2 lb. do. do. *
The effective pressures  8 3 l£ 0$ 0 lb. do. do!
Then the total work done by expansion up to the end of
each foot of stroke is represented by the hyperbolic logar-
ithm of the ratio of expansion, when the work done during
admission is represented by unity, thus—
Thpt«ird-°f the"V l8t’ 2d’ 3d> 4th> 5th foot of stroke
The steam is expanded into 2
Of which the hyp. logs, are 0 -69
The initial duty being as... 1 1
And the total duty as  1 1’69
Fig. 189.
showing that the total duty of the steam, by expanding Work of
it to five times the initial volume, is increased to fully 2^ Gaseous
times the initial duty without expansion, if no deduction Steam
be made for back-pressure. To make this necessary de- Exl)ansi'>n.
duction at the rate of 2 lb. per square inch, and also to
express the relative duty in foot-pounds, the whole initial
duty is, as already said, 10 foot-pounds on a piston of 1
square inch area, moved through 1 foot, with a pressure of
10 lb. ; the total work done in the first and second feet of
the stroke is 10 x 1'69= 16-9 foot-pounds; and so on. Then
there is a drawback of 2 foot-pounds on each foot of the
stroke. The relations of the work of the same weight of
steam in the cylinder are therefore as follows : 
At the end of the  1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th foot of stroke
The total work done is... 10, 16 9, 21-0, 23-9, 261 foot-pounds
The total resistance is.... 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 do.
The total effective work is 8, 12 9, 15-0, 15 9, 161 do.
And the gain by expan-1 .
sion is   J 0 61 87 99 101 per cent.
Here it is to be observed, that by expanding the steam
five times, the effective work is doubled, that is, it is in¬
creased from 8 foot-pounds to 16-1 foot-pounds ; and that
when the expansion is extended to the utmost useful limit 
to the point at which the pressure of the expanded steam
becomes equal to the back-pressure—the total resistance
of the back-pressure in foot-pounds amounts to as much as
the total work, which is done by the steam previous to
expansion,—namely, 10 foot-pounds. It follows, therefore,
that the total effective work of the steam expanded down
to the pressure in the condenser is just equal to the total
work developed by expansion alone,—that is, 16T foot¬
pounds is equal to 26'l — 10 foot-pounds. The initial
performance of the steam may be said, conventionally, to
go for nothing, being balanced by the resistance, and the
whole of the useful work may be said to be accomplished
by the residual expansive force alone. This conclusion ap¬
plies generally wherever the steam is expanded down to the
pressure in the condenser. It may further be concluded,
that the utmost ratio of expansion, or limit to which expan¬
sion can be carried efficaciously,—regard being had simply
to the operations of the steam, as indicated in the cylinder,
is measured by the number of times which the total
pressure of the vapour in the condenser is contained in the
total initial steam in the cylinder.
For further illustration, let the total initial pressure A c
of the steam in the cylinder (fig. 189), during the first foot
of stroke be 75 lb. per square inch, and suppose it to be
expanded five times as before, and then exhausted into the
atmosphere, with a back-pressure of 15 lb. per square inch
throughout the stroke, indicated by the shaded zone.
1 hen, as before, if the steam be maintained at a uniform
temperature, the pressure at the end of the stroke will be
75-1-5 = 15 lb. per square inch, or down to atmospheric
piessure, beyond which it would be useless to expand it.
On a piston of 1 square inch area, the ratios of work done
will be as before—
At the end of the  1st, 2d, 3d, 4th,
The total work done ) ,    
is as... j ^ 1‘69 2-10 2‘39
The total work done 1 -
is actually | 75 51 7 157'5
The total resistance is 15 30 45
The total effective 1
work is J
And the gain by ex- 1
pansion is j
60 48-7 112-5
179 2
60
119-2
5 th foot of stroke
2-61
195-7 foot-pounds.
75
120-7
do.
do.
3 4 5 volumes.
1*10 1-39 1-61
111 unity.
2-10 2-39 2 61
0 61 87 99 101 per cent.
The proportions of work, in this case, where steam of
five atmospheres is expanded five times, and exhausted into
the atmosphere at a pressure of one atmosphere, are the
same as when steam of 10 lb. pressure per inch is also ex¬
panded five times, and exhausted at a pressure of one-fifth,
or 2 lb. per inch ; and they indicate an equal efficiency of
the steam in the way it is applied.
STEAM-ENGINE.
Work of
Gaseous
team with
xpansion.
It is observable from the foregoing illustration, that when
the opposing pressure is not less than one-fifth of the initial
pressure in the cylinder, or, say in the boiler, there is no
^ material extra duty gained by expanding to more than four
volumes; in further expanding to five volumes, the pro¬
portion of further gain is only 02 upon IS’D, or 1^ per
cent.
The clearance which must be allowed between the piston
and the end of the cylinder, for safety of working, and also
the space or passage from the valve to the cylinder, must
necessarily be filled with steam of the initial pressure, at
the commencement of every stroke, which, doing no work,
must be reckoned as entirely non-effective in non-expansive
engines, and, in that respect, as wasted. Where the steam,
however, is expanded within the cylinder, the clearance-
steam contributes its quota of effect by expansion ; and,
therefore, in estimating the work done by steam, a distinc¬
tion must be drawn between the quantity of steam effec¬
tively engaged in the cylinder before the suppression or
cut-off, and the quantity after suppression—that is to
say, before expansion and during expansion. For simpli¬
city of calculation, the volume of the clearance may be
expressed in units of the stroke, and added to the period
of suppression, in order to express proportionally the initial
volume of the steam submitted to expansion.
In the construction of a formula for the relative efficiency
of gaseous steam worked expansively, viewed simply as a
problem of absolute duty, irrespective of drawbacks on ac¬
count of the resistance in the condenser and otherwise,
the length of the stroke, the clearance, the period of ad¬
mission, and the absolute initial pressure, are essential ele¬
ments ; and whereas the ratio of expansion is commonly
expressed by the number of times the period of admission
is contained in the length of stroke, or otherwise by the
fraction of the stroke at which the steam is cut off, the
actual ratio for the calculation of efficiency must be formed
upon the addition of the amount of the clearance.
Let the duty of steam, without expansion, when the
clearance is neglected, be expressed by unity, or 1 ; then
the additional duty by expansively working it, is expressed
by the hyperbolic logarithm of the ratio of expansion, and
the entire duty is expressed by l+hyp. log. ratio of ex¬
pansion. When the clearance is added, the initial duty is
proportionally less than unity, as the clearance adds to the
volume consumed; and the duty is expressible by the
period of admission divided by itself plus the clearance.
1 he ratio of expansion also is less, inasmuch as the clear¬
ance augments the initial volume proportionally more than
it does the expanded volume, and is, in fact, equal to the
initial volume plus the clearance, divided by the final
volume plus the clearance. Let L = the length of stroke,
1= the period of admission, and c— the clearance. Then
the relative expression of the entire duty, neglecting clear¬
ance, is 1 + hyp. log. .
If the clearance be added, the expression becomes
G^ + i>yp. 1os-GT!
in which the first fraction expresses something less than 1,
or unity (which is the assumed datum or measure of the
entire non-expansive duty of steam without clearance), being
the depreciation caused by the presence of clearance ; and
the second fraction is the modified ratio of expansion.
Now, the period of admission plus the clearance, or
(^ + c), is the measure of the volume of steam actually ad-
tc> the cylinder for the performance of work, to
which the foregoing general expression of entire duty is
i e ated ; and if it be multiplied by the area of the piston
(a), the product will be the volume of the steam admitted,
or a (/+c). The entire duty of which the steam actually
expended would be capable, without expansion and without
clearance, would be equal to this volume multiplied by the
pressure (/?) per unit of surface, or to ap (/+c); and it is
to this standard measure of duty that the general expres¬
sion of entire duty must be applied by multiplying the one
by the other, in order to show how the work of steam is
affected by the clearance. If W = the actual entire duty,
then
W=aP(/+c)j/JL + hyp.Iog.(^) j.
For non-expansive engines, the actual entire duty is ex¬
pressed by the equation—
W= aj? (/ + C)-JL. = aply
in which l becomes equal to L, and signifying that the
actual duty is, of course, equal to the product of the vo¬
lume described by the piston, or the area multiplied by the
stroke, and the pressure per unit of surface.
To indicate the importance of the clearance as an ele¬
ment in the efficiency of steam, take a locomotive-cylinder
15 inches in diameter and 20 inches stroke, with a clearance
of ^ inch off each end of the cylinder, and steam-passages
10 inches wide by 1^ inch broad, and brought up in the
usual manner to a single valve-face in the middle of the
cylinder. Taking each passage at 12 inches in length, its
cubic contents are 10 x x 12= 150 cubic inches, which,
divided by the area of piston, gives f inch as the equiva¬
lent length of cylinder; and | + | = 1 inch, or one-
twentieth of the stroke, is the total clearance or steam-room
at each end of the cylinder. Now, if the steam were cut
off at one-fifth, or 4 inches, and expanded to the end of the
stroke, it would not properly be expanded so much as five
times; for there are 5 inches of steam to be expanded into
20 inches, and the real expansion would be only four times.
In cylinders, of course, where higher ratios of expansion
are practised, the influence of clearance is still greater;
and if, with a clearance of one-twentieth of the stroke, the
steam be cut off at a twentieth, the volume admitted would
be two-twentieths, and the steam would only be expanded
into ten volumes, and not twenty. The advantages in this
respect of short and direct passages from the valve-chest
to the cylinder are obvious:—insuring a higher initial
pressure, a higher ratio of expansion, and a less proportion
of inactive steam in the cylinder than with long passages.
Professor Rankine proposes the following formula for
the work U of 1 pound of gaseous steam, or “ steam-gas,”
in which py and vl are the initial pressure and volume, r is
the ratio of expansion, and p3 is the back-pressure :—
U =/>,„, (4-29-3-29-A-) -p,
r v.
He estimates that the gain of efficiency by superheating
steam, of 34 lb. total pressure, in an ordinary engine, cutting
off at one-fifth, by the heat of the furnace, is about 15 per
cent., and that if the heat for this purpose be derived from
the flues, which would otherwise be wasted, the saving is
about 23 per cent. The latter result agrees very nearly
with the general results of recent practice.
The preceding discussion comprehends the ordinary hy¬
pothesis on which the work of steam by expansive working is
usually estimated. It assumes too much, however:—that
steam, as used in practice, is entirely gaseous; and it does
not consist with the true ratio of expansion in a steam-
cylinder. The exemplifications of its application, in estimat¬
ing the particular gains by expansive-working, are, never¬
theless, important, as they measure, with a sufficient de¬
gree of exactitude, the value of expansive-working gene¬
rally, in various degrees, as a means of increasing the effi¬
ciency of steam, and they point to the special significance
of back-pressure in neutralising in an important degree the
623
Work of
Gaseous
Steam with
Expansion.
STEAM-ENGINE.
624
Work of expected benefit of prolonged expansion. In the following
Dry Satu- chapter is treated the work of dry saturated steam,—the
rated condition in which steam exists in actual good practice.
E^ansion1 ** regenerative steam-engine” of Mr C. W. Siemens
xpansion. wor^ec[ wit]1 gaseous steam, maintained at a nearly con-
stant temperature, by placing the cylinder over a furnace ;
but the steam on its way to and from the space below the
plunger of the cylinder traverses a “ regenerator,” the
effect of which is, that nearly the whole of the heat em¬
ployed to raise the temperature of the steam above the
boiling point corresponding to its pressure is obtained at
each stroke from the regenerator in which that heat has
previously been stored by steam leaving the hot end of the
cylinder. Mr Siemens states, that in some of his experi¬
ments with this engine, the consumption of fuel was only
1’5 lb. per indicator horse-power per hour.
CHAP. V. THE WORK OF DRY SATURATED STEAM WITH
EXPANSION.
The pressure of saturated, or ordinary steam, expanding in
a jacketless or unheated cylinder, it has already been stated,
falls more rapidly than that of steam of equal temperature,
during the first stages of expansion; but ultimately less
rapidly, if the expansion be sufficiently prolonged. This has
been proved by the writer, from his observations on locomo¬
tive-engines, and by others on stationary-engines, to arise
from the evaporation of water from the heated sides of the
cylinder, when the expanding steam has fallen to a relatively
low pressure and temperature—on the same principle as the
spontaneous ebullition of hot fluids in vacuo—the water
having been formed by the precipitation of steam during
the admission to the cylinder, and in the first stages of ex¬
pansion, upon the relatively cold surface of the cylinder.
There is another, but secondary source of the production
of water in the cylinder,—the condensation of ordinary
steam during the process of expansion behind the piston,
owing to the conversion of part of the heat into work, and
the precipitation of the water thus forsaken. This is a
species of condensation which arises independently of the
relative temperature of the cylinder, and would exist even
if the material of the cylinder were a perfect non-conduc¬
tor. Its existence was originally demonstrated, contem¬
poraneously and independently, by Professor Rankine and
Professor Clausius, in 1849.
This condition of things supplies an explanation of the
whole mystery of expansive-working of steam. It fully
accounts for the failure of attempts to economise fuel by
expansive-working, without any provision for preventing
the condensation of the steam within the cylinder, arising
from the extreme alternations of temperature of the steam
itself, during a double stroke of the piston, and the sympa¬
thetic condition of the cylinder, heated and cooled by the
steam. In ordinary practice, the higher the initial pressure
in the cylinder, and the greater the extent of expansive-
working to which the steam is subjected, the more difficult
it is to prevent the pressure in the condenser from rising, be¬
cause, as before stated, if the cylinder be exposed, and the
integrity of the steam be affected by the alternations of tem¬
perature within, there is a considerable amount of supple¬
mentary evaporation of water within the cylinder towards
the end of the steam-stroke, as well as during the return
stroke, when the cylinder is open to the condenser, which
partially overpowers the latter, and excites additional back¬
pressure ; and yet, if the back-pressure be not subdued,
the gain by expansive-working is neutralised. The loss of
expansive efficiency from this cause is important also in non¬
condensing engines.
The means of preventing the existence of water in the
cylinders, thus caused, is provided by supplying heat to the
cylinder from an independent source—an external jacket
of hot steam, for example—in virtue of which the cylinder Work of
is not only maintained at a temperature as high as that of Satu.
the steam within it, but may also communicate a portion of rated
its heat to the expanding steam. And the question arises, pteam 'y'ft
is it sufficient that the steam should be simply preserved ^xPansion'
from being diminished in quantity by condensation during "
expansion : being supplied from the jacket while expanding,
with just sufficient heat to prevent condensation ? Or, is
it preferable that the steam should be superheated into the
gaseous condition, either within the cylinder from the
jacket, or by other means, before it is admitted, so as to
act as a perfect gas, considerably removed from the state
of saturation ? It can be shown that, the best result is
obtainable when there is just a sufficient supply of heat
communicated to the steam in the cylinder, to prevent the
precipitation of any portion of it as water. If the steam be
discharged from the cylinder in a superheated state, it
carries with it a greater quantity of rejected heat than if
discharged at the saturation-point.
The liquefaction of steam in the cylinder, by the legiti¬
mate process of the conversion of heat into work, is not in
itself a loss; it is, in fact, an expenditure of steam repre¬
senting its equivalent of duty, and if the water of conden¬
sation thus precipitated could be instantly removed from
the cylinder as soon as formed, so as to leave the cylinder
dry at the end of the stroke, a still better result would be
obtained per unit of heat expended, than when heat is
absorbed from the jacket to prevent its condensation. But
the objection to this liquefaction of steam in the cylinder is
a practical one, as water in the cylinder, by whatever cause
it may be formed, cools the cylinder by evaporation from
its surfaces:—an evaporation doing but little good for the
time, that is to say, during the remainder of the steam-
stroke, and otherwise positive harm.
It is believed that, practically, the use of the steam-jacket
does not extend materially beyond the maintenance of the
steam in a state of dry saturation while expanding; the
steam in the cylinder receiving just enough of heat from
the steam in the jacket to prevent any appreciable part of
it from condensing without superheating it. Professor
Rankine, in adopting this view of the case, bases the as¬
sumption on the fact, “ that dry steam is a bad conductor
of heat, as compared with liquid water, or with cloudy
steam ; and that after cloudy steam has received enough
of heat to make it dry, or nearly dry, it will receive addi¬
tional heat very slowly. The assumption,” he adds, “ is
justified by the fact, that its results are confirmed by expe¬
riment.” Professor Rankine investigated, and published
in 1859, exact and also approximate formulas for the work
of dry saturated steam, under such conditions, and for the
expenditure of heat in producing and using that steam.
Adopting his notation, let T = absolute temperature in de¬
grees of Fahrenheit = temperature measured from the
ordinary zero + 461 •2°; p = pressure in pounds on the square
foot; v = volume of 1 pound of steam in cubic feet;
tv pv Vy, refer to the admission of steam into the cylinder;
tv p2, v2, to the end of the expansion; let r = v2-i-vl the
ratio of expansion ; p3, the pressure of exhaustion, or back¬
pressure ; tf4, the absolute temperature of the feed-water;
J = Joule’s equivalent, or specific heat of 1 pound of
liquid water, =772 foot-pounds per degree of Fahrenheit;
W = work of 1 pound of steam in foot-pounds; H =
expenditure of heat per pound of steam in foot-pounds;
a = 1,109,550 foot-pounds ; 5 = 540*4 foot-pounds per de¬
gree of Fahrenheit; efficiency of steam, W-i-H.
Let the curve b c k (fig. 190) be the expansion-curve of
a body of dry saturated steam. Let OA=p1, and AB=v1,
represent the pressure and volume of admission; also let
OD =p2, and DC = r2, represent the pressure and volume
at the end of the expansion ; and let OF =p3 the pressure
of exhaustion; then v2-r-v1 = r is the ratio of expansion,
STEAM-ENGINE.
Work of , v, l . ,
DrySatu- and 18 tlie period of admission or effective cut-off.
Steam with The following are the exact formulas :—
Expansion.
W = a hyp. log. £ - 6 -12) + (p2 - p3).
H=a (1 + hyp. log. £) -bt. + J (t2 - Q.
The approximate formulas are founded on the facts, that
for total initial pressures of steam from 30 to 120 lb. per
Fig. 190.
square inch, and for ratios of expansion up to sixteen times,
the pressure of saturated steam varies nearly as the seven¬
teenth power of the sixteenth root of its density, or of its
volume inversely; and that the expenditure of heat in an
engine in which dry saturated steam is used, expressed in
units of work, is nearly equal to 15| times the product of
the initial pressure and volume of steam expended. If p
and v represent relative pressures and volumes, then, as
aboved stated,
1
p vanes as —rr'
The ratio of the mean total pressure to the initial pressure
of the steam, for different values of the ratio of expansion,
r, is given by the expression—•
17 16
Then,
the final pressure, p2 = ;
rit
(1 *7 1 ft \
— 7 /
the mean effective pressure = o. — «
\ r r\l) 3
the work of 1 pound of steam, exerted on the piston
(area, abcfa, fig. 190), =
(11 - J|)
The work per cubic foot of the space swept through by
the piston, is
w—O2-^) -*•
It is evident that if the pressure of exhaustion be given,
and any two of the three quantities, namely, the initial
pressure, the mean effective pressure, the ratio of expan¬
sion, the fourth quantity can be calculated directly, except
it be the ratio of expansion, which can be found by trial
and error.
The approximate formula for the expenditure of heat
per pound of steam, when the feed-water is supplied at a
temperature of from 100° to 120° Fahr., is as follows
Expenditure of heat per pound of steam—
*V
The heat expended per cubic foot is—— ,
r
The efficiency of the steam, W-r-H, is by reduction,
VOL. xx.
17-
16
^ r_h_
625
Work of
Dry Satu-
. 15} p/ SleS^Hh
liy emciency is meant the proportion which the actual Expansion,
useful effect bears to the whole expenditure of heat com-
municated to the steam.
In the foregoing formulas, the initial volume for the
effective cut-off is measured to the point at which the
curve of expansion, if produced upwards, intersects the
horizontal line of admission. It is thus that the action of
wire-drawing is accounted for, and an example of the ope¬
ration is shown in fig. 134, where, by an extension of the
expansion-line upwards, the shaded area D is enclosed,
and the point of effective cut-off is placed 2 inches in ad¬
vance, at 5 inches of the stroke, instead of 7 inches, to
which the valves are set.
There is a small loss of effect by the release of the steam
from the cylinder before the end of the stroke, shown also
by shaded spaces in fig. 134. The compression or cushion¬
ing of the exhaust steam, though it reduces the area of the
diagram, and the work done, does not, unless excessive,
reduce the efficiency of the steam.
Ihe clearance, as before mentioned, adds to the space
to be filled with steam for each stroke, and reduces the
ratio of expansion. Ihis effect is more or less counter¬
balanced by the wire-drawing, the influence of which is to
increase the ratio of expansion.
When the feed-water is delivered at other temperatures
than 104° Fahr., or thereabouts, for which temperature the
approximate formula for the expenditure of heat was ob¬
tained, an allowance must be made for the greater or less
expenditure of heat, in proportion to the total heat of the
steam generated. For example, if the water be heated to
204° Fahr., 100° higher than assumed in the formula; and
if the steam be generated at 100 lb. total pressure, hav¬
ing IISM0 total heat, the addition of 100° to the tempe¬
rature of the feed-water reduces the expenditure of heat
by or 5 and the co-efficient of the formula
H = 15£p2 vl is reduced by lo|-r-ll-8 = l*3, to 14-2; and
the expression becomes H = 14-2 px vr
The following example of the application of the formulas
to actual engines, and of the comparison of their results
with those of experiment, is given by Professor Rankine:—
Example.—Double-cylinder engines of 744 indicator
horse-power, calculated by the exact formulas :—
Data.
Bottom of Top of
Cylinders. Cylinders.
Pressure of admission, ^j-^-144 ZZ'l 34<3
Back-pressure, ^3-i-l 44   4-0 4-0
Ratio of expansion, r  4£
Ordinary temperature of feed-water, 104° Fahr.
Calculated Results.
Bottom.
Final volume of 1 pound of steam,
^2 —     50*375
Final pressure,/>2-f-144  7*367
Work of 1 pound of steam,  109552
Mean effective pressure in pounds on
the inch  15*1
Mean of both results 13*03
Mean effective pressure, as observed ..13*1
Top.
74*4
4*867
117338
10*95
Difference  _ 0*07
Bottom, Top,
, foot-pounds, foot-pounds.
Available heat expended per pound
of steam  906989 925678
Pressure in lbs. per square inch, equi¬
valent to heat  125 86*4
Mean 105*7
Efficiency  0*121 0*127
Mean, 13*03-i-105*7 0*123
4 K
626
STEAM-ENGINE.
Work of The same example calculated by the approximate for-
Dry Satu- mula;_
Data.
lbs. per inch.
Mean pressure of admission, pj-f-144  34
Mean back-pressure, jp3-j-144  4
1 0-24+ 0-16
Mean cut of h °'2
rated
Steam with
Expansion.
power inversely, which are equivalent expressions of the
power; and
1-0627
.p2=100
*(ro)
1-0627
= 8‘656 lb. per square inch,
Results.
Mean gross pressure, 34 X -505 17-17
Mean effective pressure, 17-17 — 4 13-17
Observed 13-10
Difference + 0-07
Pressure equivalent to expenditure of heat 105-4
Efficiency  0-125
Both the exact and the approximate formulas appear to
possess a great degree of accuracy in their practical ap¬
plication.
Mr Brownlee, in July 1859, published the following
formulas for the work and heat of dry saturated steam,
founded, like Rankine’s approximate formula, on the fact of
the uniform variation of the density, with a constant power
of the pressure; in fact, the -941 power. (See Steam.)
Conversely, the pressure varies as the power of the
17
volume inversely, or as the -- power, or as the 1-0627
Work of
Dry Satu-
with a temperature of 185-5°; ^=14,400 lb. per square SteanTwith
foot; ^ = 4-3351 cubic feet; -^=-1, and 1- (±-\ ^ ®xPansion;
v2 10 V0/
= -1344. If the back-pressure be equal to the pressure of
final expansion p2, the whole available work will be
W= 16-949 x 14400 x 4-3351 x -13441 = 42200 ft.-pounds.
Then, assuming the water to be supplied at 100°, the
total heat H1} of 100 lbs. steam, reckoned from this tempe¬
rature, will be 1113-4° (see Steam), whilst at 185-5° and
8-656 lb. pressure, the total heat H2 will be, 1013-4+ (-305
x 185-5) = 1070-2°; and - H2= 1113*4 - 1070-2 = 43-2°.
Also, —j-=
W 142200
= 184-2 units. Therefore, the heat ab-
J 772
sorbed from the jacket, necessary to prevent condensation,
is 184*2 — 43-2=141 units of heat. Hence, with water
supplied at 100°, the total heat necessarily expended per
poundof steam = 1113-4 +141 = 1254-4 units, and the work
done for each unit of heat expended, is
142200
T254-4 ~ ^ ^ ^ ^oot;‘Poun^s*
But, further, let the steam, after expanding to 8-656 lb.
pressure per inch, be exhausted to 2 lb. back-pressure
in the cylinder during the return-stroke. To find the ad¬
ditional work, v2 (Pn-Pz), thus done, vi=vl x 10 = 43351 x
10 = 43-351 cubic feet; and p2—jo3 = 6-656 lb. per square
inch; then the additional work is
43-351 x 6"656 x 144 = 41540 foot-pounds ;
and. the total available work is 142200 + 41540=183740
foot-pounds for 1 pound of steam; or, for each unit of
heat expended, it is
If the steam be discharged after expansion at the same
terminal pressure p2, as the pressure at which the steam is
condensed or exhausted, the total available work done, in
foot-pounds, including clearance, and other drawbacks, is
Let H^the total heat of the initial steam, and H2 = the
total heat at the end of the expansion ; then the heat re¬
quired to be supplied from the jacket to prevent condensa¬
tion, while the steam expands from px to p2
W
= ^-(H1-H2),
in which J = 772, Joule’s equivalent.
If, again, the steam is permitted to flow into the con¬
denser, or any space in which the pressure is less than that,
p2, at which expansion is terminated, and the pressure in
the cylinder is thereby reduced to p3, at which pressure
the remaining vapour is finally expelled, there is obtained
the additional work v2 (p2 — p3); and the whole available
work of the steam is
W = 16-949 p, vx 11 - J + v2 (p2-p3).
The exhaustion from the cylinder to the lowest pressure/>3,
has a slightly cooling effect on the cylinder, as the ex¬
hausted vapour falls in temperature, and partially condenses
while expanding and expelling that portion which flows off.
Neglecting, in the meantime, this small expenditure of heat,
Mr Brownlee takes for illustration the case of 1 pound
of steam at 100 lb. total pressure per square inch, or
14,400 lb. per square foot, expanded to ten volumes, and
maintained in a state of dry saturation by the addition of
heat from the jacket. The terminal pressure will be
1254-4 == ^ foot-pounds.
It appears that, in this case, nearly 11^ per cent, of the
whole heat consumed within the cylinder would be sup¬
plied to the steam while expanding, to maintain it in a
state of dry saturation; and the efficiency of the engine is
146'4 1
measured by the fraction or 18 per cent., show-
77^ 0*0
ing that 82 per cent, of the heat expended is rejected.
Formulas have been constructed for the work of high-
pressure steam, worked expansively by means of the link-
motion, based on the indicator-power of locomotives, de¬
tailed in the work on Railway Machinery. The cylinder
from which the data were obtained, was 18.inches diameter,
24 inches stroke, and had 1-8 inches total clearance, or i^-th
of the stroke at each end, with steam-ports 13 by 2 inches,
or about -j^th of the piston-area. The cylinders were
placed in the smoke-box, and the steam maintained in
good condition. The maximum pressure in the cylinder
varied from 70 to 90 lb. per square inch above the atmo¬
sphere. The volume of steam admitted was estimated in
terms of the indicator-pressure at the point of suppression,
and is now recalculated from the most recent investiga¬
tions of relative volume. The formulas give the nett per¬
formances, allowing for drawbacks of every kind, as clear¬
ance, back-pressure, wire-drawing; and it is remarked that
the incidental advantage by the increased wire-drawing of
steam at greater speed during admission, is practically equi¬
valent to the loss by increase of back-pressure. Thus, the
formulas are applicable with accuracy for all the different
observed speeds of piston, from 200 to 800 feet per minute.
Let r- = the percentage of the stroke at which the steam is
cut off, then the consumption of steam in lbs. per horse¬
power per hour
= 24r+15;
and dividing the result by the evaporative ratio of the fuel,
STEAM-ENGINE.
Work of the quotient is the consumption of fuel in lbs. per indicator
Saturated horse-power per hour.
/fteNormal as one actual horse-power is equal to 1,980,000
Conditions ^oot‘Pounds per hour, the work of 1 lb. of steam
with Ex-’ _ 1,980,000
pansion. (/24r + 15)*
v—v-—The effective mean pressure in lbs. per square inch in
the cylinder, for a given maximum pressure P, and per¬
centage of admission, r, is
Eff. mean pressure = P x T35VV- -28.
The above three formulas are applicable without mate¬
rial error for periods of admission from 10 to 80 per cent.,
and for pressures of 60 lb. to 150 lb. per square inch. For
high pressures, the results they give are slightly under
the actual results,—a negative error. The effective mean
pressure, by the last equation, is slightly too small for the
lower speeds, and slightly too great for the higher, but is
exact for a speed of piston of 560 feet per minute.
CHAP. VI.—THE WORK OF SATURATED STEAM UNDER
NORMAL CONDITIONS, WITH EXPANSION.
In the two preceding sections the work of steam in a
cylinder has been considered, first, as gaseous steam, where
the steam has been super-heated above its temperature of
saturation, and maintained at a uniform temperature ;
second, as dry saturated steam, where it receives, during
expansion, just as much heat as is sufficient to prevent the
condensation of any portion of it. It remains to consider
the action of steam, when it neither parts with nor receives
heat during any part of the stroke. This condition sup¬
poses a normal state of things, and implies that the material
of the cylinder is a perfect non-conductor, and that the
water of condensation during expansion is discharged with
the steam at the end of each stroke. Such a condition of
things does not, and perhaps cannot, exist in practice,
but the consideration of it as an elementary question will
be useful.
It has been stated that, whatever the fluid employed,
the proportion of heat utilised, in working over the same
range, or between the same pair of temperatures, is the
same, whatever the fluid employed, when all the heat
derived from the heater or boiler is communicated to the
fluid at the maximum temperature, and when the entire
fall of temperature is effected by the useful expansion of
the fluid. On these principles it is necessary, first, that the
substance should be raised from the temperature of the
condenser to that of the boiler, without directly abstracting
heat from the source of heat,—for example, the feed-water
should be heated independently to the temperature in the
boiler; second, that the fluid should be expanded down to
the temperature of the condenser. Under these circum-
T - T
stances, the ratio —-2 expresses the efficiency of the heat
expended, or the proportion of heat utilised, and the re¬
mainder, Tj - T2, being the measure of the heat utilised, and
12 the measure of the heat rejected, the relative proportion
of the latter can never, under any conceivable circumstances,
T
be less than For example, let the absolute temperature
of the condenser, T2=600°, and that of the boilerT^SOO0,
then the heat utilised cannot be more than 800-600 =
200°, or the fraction f, and the heat rejected cannot be
less than 600°, or the fraction f. The ultimate maximum
of work, in foot-pounds per unit of heat expended, would,
with any vapour or gas, equal 772 x —^and suppose,
again, Tj = 718°, and T2 = 563°; the heat utilised
would be 718-563 = 155°, and there would be^| parts
563
of the heat converted into work, and parts rejected, or
transferred to the condenser. The work done for each
unit of heat expended would be 772 x ^-r- = 166,6 foot-
718
pounds. This is for a perfect heat-engine.
Now, reverting to the steam-engine, whilst the maximum
of duty is obtained by the expansion of the steam within
the cylinder down to the pressure in the condenser, prior
to its being discharged, it is obviously impossible to comply
with the first condition of a perfect engine, namely, the
heating of the feed-water to the temperature in the boiler,
without abstracting heat from the furnace, or from the
boiler itself; the only other source of heat is in the con¬
denser, which is only at the temperature due to the pres¬
sure—that is, for, say 1 lb. absolute pressure, the sensible
temperature is 102° Fahr., and the feed-water supplied from
the condenser cannot exceed this temperature. The heat
expended, under such circumstances, must therefore be
increased by a quantity arising from the inferiority of the
sensible temperature of the feed-water at 102°, to that of the
steam in the boiler, expressed by Tj — T2 degrees; so that,
if the water at 102° be converted into saturated steam at
102°, and the temperature and pressure of the resulting
steam be raised to those of the saturated steam in the boiler,
though Tj0 — T°2, or 155°, the quantity of heat thus absorbed
is measured by '305 (Tj — T2), or, say, to allow for the vary¬
ing specific heat of water, -3 (Tx - T2). The denomi¬
nator of the ratio of efficiency must therefore be increased
by this quantity; and putting ^ = the greatest proportion
of the heat expended, it is possible to convert into work,
by expanding the steam down to a temperature of 102°, with
the condenser at this temperature, and an absolute pres¬
sure of 1 lb. per square-inch. Then we have Mr Brownlee’s
formula,—
h =
t,-t2
Ti + '^Tj- T2)
Let, for example, as before, T1 = 718°, for a total pressure
of 33*7 lb. per square inch; then T2 being 102° sensible,
or 563° absolute, (T^ - T2°)= 155°, and
, 155 155
“718 +(-3 x 155)“ 764-5 “ ’2027,
or about one-fifth, being the ratio of efficency; and the
work done for each unit of heat expended is 772 x -2027 =
156-5 foot-pounds.
The comparison, in the particular cases under consider¬
ation, between the efficiency of the most perfect engine con¬
ceivable, and that of an ordinary condensing engine, work¬
ing under the conditions specified, may thus be stated:—
Extreme absolute Extreme total
temperatures. pressures.
Perfect engine,...718° to 563° 33 7 lb. to 1 lb.
Ordinary do.,...718° to 563° 33-7 lb. to 1 lb.
Work done per
unit of heat
expended.
166-6 foot-pounds.
156.5
3J
It would appear, then, that the ordinary engine would yield
10-1 foot-pounds, or only 6 per cent, less duty than the
perfect engine, when working over the same range, or be¬
tween the same pairs of temperatures.
It has been said that, in a perfect engine working between
the same temperatures, the total work performed for a
given expenditure of heat is the same, whatever the sub¬
stance or vehicle of the heat may be. But in ordinary
working,—confining the comparison to condensing engines
for the present,—the liquid is supplied directly from the con¬
denser at a lower than the initial temperature; and the
work done with different liquids is not the same for equal
quantities of heat expended, although working similarly be¬
tween the same pair of temperatures, and regularly ex¬
panding from the highest to the lowest. A steam-engine,
for instance, with the boiler at 212°, and the condenser at
627
Work of
Saturated
Steam un¬
der Normal
Conditions,
with Ex¬
pansion.
628
STEAM-ENGINE.
Coal, its 104°, the steam expanded in the cylinder from the former
Composi- to the latter temperature, and the feed-water supplied at
tion and io4°, would convert into work •1526 of the heat expended,
ec°i^>0S1" represented by unity. With a sulphuric ether engine,
\ , under the same conditions, the maximum utility would be
expressed by ’MOG. In an air-engine, let the air be sup¬
plied to the heater at the constant temperature 104°, and
therein raised at constant pressure from 104° to 212°;
thence admitted to and expanded upon a piston till the
temperature falls to 104°, and then discharge at this tem¬
perature, then it cannot utilise more t>.an -09 of the heat
expended.
In order to compare, by an example, the action of steam
in an ordinary engine, where it neither gains nor loses
heat while expanding with its action in a jacketed cylinder,
—being supplied with just as much heat while expanding as
to prevent condensation of any kind in the cylinder—the
example already detailed, in illustration of Mr Brownlee’s
formula for the action of steam in a jacketed cylinder may
be assumed. It was found in that case, that 1216 foot¬
pounds of work was done for each unit of heat expended,
with initial steam of 100 lb. total pressure per square-inch
expanded to 10 volumes, with a final pressure in the cylin¬
der of 8-656 lb., and the same pressure in the condenser.
The initial and final absolute temperatures due to the pres¬
sures were 788-8° and 646-5°; then T, - T2= 142-3, and
T -T
■L 1 * 2
142i=-mi;
and 772+T711 = 131
'L\+-3 (Tj-T,) 831-5
foot-pounds of work per unit of heat expended, when heat
was neither given to nor taken from the steam in the
cylinder, to be compared with 12T6 foot-pounds in the
jacketed cylinder. Again, for 1 pound of steam, the
expenditure of heat in the act of expansion was found to
be 1028 units, exclusive of the heat derived from the
jacket; and 1028x 131 = 134,700 foot-pounds would be
the total action of 1 pound of steam in the unjacketed
cylinder, to be compared with 142,200 foot-pounds, which
comprises the additional work arising from the absorption
of heat from the jacket. Hence it appears that, in the
unjacketed non-condensing cylinder, there was less work
per pound of steam, but more work per unit of heat ex¬
pended, than in the jacketed cylinder. Of course this
comparison, though just, is hypothetical, as it supposes that
no part of the heat of the steam is absorbed or wasted
through the cylinder, which is not a state of things that
can be said ever to occur in practice. The jacketed cylin¬
der, then, is not essentially better than the unjacketed, but
is so only because of practical imperfections arising from
the conducting power of metals, in the latter case, and the
consequent precipitation and unprofitable re-evaporation of
steam.
SECTION VII.
CHAP. I.—COAL :—ITS COMPOSITION AND DECOMPOSITION.
COKE.
The combustion of fuel consists in the chemical union
of the combustible elements with atmospheric oxygen, and
the practical management of the process consists, therefore,
in so disposing of the fuel in layers on the grate, and so
administering the air as to effect their intimate mixture in
order to effect their final combustion. The process is
simple or complex, according to the composition of the fuel.
Coke consists, substantially, of but one combustible, carbon,
and the whole process is comprised in the union of the car¬
bon with oxygen in the proper saturating proportion. But
coal is not a homogeneous substance ; the combustible
matter of it is found, by analysis, to consist mainly of carbon
and hydrogen:—carbon, dull and unevaporable';—hydrogen,
the most elastic gas known;—at the extreme of the scale of
existence. The question of the prevention of smoke is Coal, its
intimately associated with that of the combustion of coal. Composi-
They are, indeed, essentially one question ; for, if coal be Dtl0n and.
completely burnt, there cannot be any smoke ; and, other- eC^n°81"
wise, if there be smoke, the coal is certainly not completely v r '
burnt. Now, as coke and anthracite coal give no smoke
during combustion, although composed of the very matter
of smoke—carbon,—it follows that the property of smoke¬
making is in some way associated with the hydrogen of the
coal, which is at the same time the most perfect type of
gaseity known in chemistry. The constituent hydrogen is
associated in chemical union with a portion of the carbon,
forming with it a complex group of compounds, known col¬
lectively as hydro-carbons, which present themselves in
various forms, when separated or distilled, by the application
of heat. At the lowest temperature, the products obtained
are chiefly oils, resins, and like distinctive compounds, vapo¬
rizable at temperatures under red heat. A somewhat higher
temperature brings off fluids of volatile character, as naphtha.
A higher still, the third stage of temperature, produces the
rich illuminating gas, olefiant gas, or bi-carburetted hydro¬
gen. The fourth stage discharges the common gas, car-
buretted hydrogen, which continues to be given off after
the coal has reached low red heat. But as the temperature
rises, pure hydrogen also is given off; until, finally, in the
fifth and last stage, hydrogen gas alone is discharged.
What remains is the fixed or solid carbon of coal—the coke;
with earthy matter—the ash of the coal.
These hydro-carbons, especially those which are given off
at the lowest temperatures, which are richest in carbon,
constitute the flame-and-smoke making part of the coal;
and the greater their entire weight, as compared with that
of the fixed carbon, the more highly is this character de¬
veloped. When subjected to degrees of heat much above
the temperatures required to vaporize them, they become
decomposed, and pass successively into more and more
permanent forms, by precipitating portions of their carbon.
At the temperature of low redness, none of them are to be
found, and the olefiant gas is the densest type that remains,
mixed largely with carburetted hydrogen and free hydrogen.
It is in these transformations that the great body of smoke
is produced, when the precipitated carbon passes off uncom¬
bined ; even olefiant gas, at a bright red heat, deposits half
its carbon, changing to carburetted hydrogen, and this gas
may deposit the last remaining equivalent of carbon, at the
highest furnace-heats becoming pure hydrogen.
Throughout all the primary and secondary conditions of
the hydro-carbon compounds, raised by distillation from
coal, the hydrogen maintains the first claim to the oxygen
present above the fuel; until it is satisfied, the precipitated
carbon remains unburnt.
There are very great individual differences in the chemi¬
cal composition and properties of coals, and their varieties
are very numerous. The proportion of fixed carbon in coal
ranges from 30 to 93 per cent.; of hydro-carbons, from 5
to 58 per cent.; of water, or oxygen and hydrogen, in the
proportions to form water, from a mere trace to 27 per cent.;
and of ash, from 1^ to 26 per cent. The varieties of coal
may be arranged into five classes:—
1. Anthracite, or blind coal, consisting almost entirely of
free carbon. 2. Dry bituminous coal, having from 70 to 80
per cent, of carbon. 3. Bituminous caking coal, having 50
to 60 per cent, of carbon. 4. Long flaming or cannel coal,
differing from the last in containing more oxygen; and in
some varieties it does not cake. 5. Lignite, or brown coal,
containing 27 to 50 per cent, of carbon.
The following summary presents the mean compo¬
sition and characteristics of English, Welsh, and Scotch
coals, derived from the Report on Coals suited to the
Royal Navy, by Dr Playfair and Professor De La
Beche:—
Coal, its
Composi¬
tion and
^composi¬
tion.
STEAM-ENGINE.
Table of the Mean Chemical Composition of Coals.
Locality.
Wales, 36 samples 
Newcastle district, 18 samples.
Lancashire, 28 samples 
Scotch, 8 samples 
Derbyshire, 7 samples 
Gross means.
Constituent elements, by weight.
Carbon. Hydrogen. Oxygen. Nitrogen. Sulphur. Ashes
Per Cent.
83-78
82-12
77- 0
78- 53
79- 68
80-22
Per Cent.
4- 79
5- 31
5-32
5-61
4-94
5-20
Per Cent.
4- 15
5- 69
9-53
9-69
10-28
7-87
Per Cent.
0-98
1-35
1-93
1-0
1-41
1-33
Per Cent.
1-43
1-24
1-44
1-11
1-01
1-25
Per Cent.
4-91
3- 77
4- 88
4-03
2-65
4-05
Coke left by
Distillation.
Per Cent.
72-60
60-67
60-22
54-22
59-22
61-40
Water
evaporated
per pound
of Coal.
lbs.
905
8-37
7-94
7-70
7-58
8-13
629
Coal, its
Composi¬
tion and
Decomposi¬
tion.
It appears from this summary that the composition of
British coals averages about 80 per cent, of carbon, 5 per
cent, of hydrogen, 8 per cent, of oxygen, 1^- per cent of
nitrogen, l£ per cent, of sulphur, and 4 per cent, of ashes.
Also, that the coke, or fixed carbon, as distinguished from
the volatilized carbon, averages a little over 60 per cent, of
the weight of the coal; the volatilized carbon averaging
20 per cent. Of the volatile portions of coal, then, gene¬
rated in the preliminary stage of decomposition and dis¬
tillation, prior to combustion, those which arise in chemical
combination are, say,
Carbon 20 per cent.
Hydrogen  6 „
Oxygen  8 „
One part of the hydrogen is united to the 8 parts of oxygen,
in the chemically combining proportions forming steam, and
of the remaining 4 parts of hydrogen, 3^ parts unite in
chemical proportion with the 20 parts of carbon, forming
carburetted hydrogen, and | of one part passes off as pure
hydrogen. The elements of the decomposed fuel, prior to
combustion, may thus be summarised :—
Fixed carbon 
Volatilized ditto..
Hydrogen 
Oxygen 
Nitrogen, ash, &c.
100 lbs. of Coal.
lb.
.60'
.20
. 5 -
. 8
. 7j
forming
lb.
’60 fixed carbon.
23J carburetted hydrog.
« 9 steam.
§ hydrogen.
, 7 nitrogen, &c.
100 100
Ccke exists in various degrees of purity. The purest
coke contains about per cent, of carbon, according to
the following analysis of the best Newcastle coke: 
Carbon 97-6 percent.
Sulphur  Q-85 „
Ashes  1-55
100-00
Coke is classified into three kinds: good, middling, bad;
of which the good contains an average of 94 per cent, of
carbon ; the middling 88 per cent.; and the bad 82 per
cent. Coke usually contains more sulphur than coal, and
that is the most injurious element in its effects on the me¬
tallic substances exposed to the products of combustion.
Peat, or turf, is in considerable use in Ireland. Perfectly
dry peat, of the best quality, contains, in 100 parts—
Carbon 58 per cent.
Hydrogen  6 „
Oxygen 31 „
' 100
In its ordinary state of dryness, it contains 25 to 30 per
cent, of water.
CHAP. n. THE CHEMISTRY OF THE COMBUSTION OF COAL.
One pound of hydrogen unites with and requires 8 lb.
° oxygen for its combustion; measuring by volume, 1 cubic
foot of hydrogen requires just half a cubic foot of oxygen
for combustion ; the product being steam, aqueous vapour,
or water. Oxygen is sixteen times as weighty as hydrogen,
and so hydrogen combines with eight times its weight, and
but half its volume, of oxygen. In round numbers, 1 pound
of hydrogen is 200 cubic feet in bulk, at 62° Fahr., and the
combining volume of oxygen is 100 cubic feet.
One pound of carbon unites with 2§ lb., or 32 cubic feet,
of oxygen for its complete combustion, forming carbonic
acid.
Atmospheric air is composed of oxygen and nitrogen, in
the proportion of 1 lb. of the former to 3| lb. of the latter ;
or, by volume, 1 cubic foot of oxygen to 4 cubic feet of
nitrogen. Nitrogen is a neutral gas in combustion, and is
present as a diluent simply; and for every cubic foot of
oxygen required in combustion 5 cubic feet of air must be
supplied.
It follows, that for the combustion of 1 lb. of hydrogen
500 cubic feet of air are required; and for the complete
combustion of 1 lb. of carbon, 160 cubic feet of air are
required.
These are the combining proportions of hydrogen and
carbon with oxygen, and air, in combustion. In practice,
the presence of an excess of oxygen above that which is
chemically appropriated, is essential to the completeness
of the combustion of the volatilised portions; but the
amount of excess necessary becomes less as the general
temperature in the furnace becomes greater. It is not
needful, for present objects, to entertain the question of
excess of air specifically, nor the relative demands of the
varieties of hydro-carbons generated from coal. It suffices
to show, generally, the proportions of air required for full
chemical union with the volatile and the solid portions of
the fuel; and thus illustrate the relative importance of the
claims of the gases upon the general oxygen fund. It
was shown that the average proportion of volatilised hydro¬
carbons was 23J per cent, by weight of the whole body of
coal, of which the hydrogen constituted 3^- per cent, and
the carbon 20 per cent.; and there remained 60 per cent,
as solid carbon. For illustration, take 100 lb. of coal;
then the relative quantities of air chemically consumed
in completely burning the combustible elements are as
follows:—
Volatile / Hydrogen, 4 lbs. consumes 2000 cubic feet of air.
\ Carbon, 20 do. do. 3200 do. do.
5200
Fixed  Carbon, 60 do. do. 9600 do. do.
85 do. do. 14,800 do. do.
It may be assumed, in round numbers, that, for the
complete combustion of 100 lb. of coal, that is, of its com¬
bustible elements, 15,000 cubic feet of air is chemically
consumed, or 150 cubic feet for 1 lb. of coal. And, of this
supply of air, the volatile and fixed elements consume re¬
spectively, for the volatile, about one-third, and for the
fixed, two-thirds.
If allowance be made for the excess of air practically
630
STEAM-ENGINE.
Heat of required for the complete combustion of the gases, say
Combustion double the chemical equivalent, the total supply of air
of Coal required for the combustion of 100 lb. of coal would be as
and Coke. c n1
^ follows:—
Volatile elements, 10,400, or say, 10,000 cubic feet of air.
Fixed element, 9,600, or say, 10,000 do, do.
Table of the Total Heat of Combustion of the Constituents Heat of
of Coal and other Fuels
Total for 100 lb. of coal, 20,000 cubic feet of air.
Thus, finally, it is estimated, that for the complete com¬
bustion of 100 lb. of coal of average composition, 15,000
cubic feet of air are chemically consumed ; and that 20,000
cubic feet of air are required in practice, or 200 cubic feet
of air for 1 lb. of coal, of which one-half is devoted to the
fixed portion of the fuel, and one-half to the volatile por¬
tion.
The importance of the share in the business of the fur¬
nace, taken by the volatilised parts of the fuel, evinced by
the large proportion of air allotted to it, is enhanced by the
reflection, that the development of heat by combustion is
generally in the ratio of the quantity of oxygen chemically
combined in the process; and that thus the heat developed
by the complete combustion of the volatile elements is
one-third of the entire quantity of heat generated. There
is, then, scope for the economization of fuel, as well as for
the prevention of smoke; but, as there is no doubt that
much of the air consumed in burning the volatile elements
is drawn through the grate, in company with that which is
devoted to the solid portion, there remains so much the
less fresh air to be thrown in above or beyond the fuel.
There are, doubtless, empiricists who do not believe in the
increase of economy by smoke-prevention. Unquestion¬
ably, however, when the prevention of dense smoke is not
accompanied by a material saving of fuel, there must be a
want of adjustment of the appliances, and necessarily im¬
perfect combustion, or waste of means. Carbon, as already
stated, may combine with oxygen in one of two proportions,
forming carbonic oxide and carbonic acid, of which both are
colourless; but, in the production of the former of these,
much less heat is developed than in that of the latter.
Besides the combustibles, hydrogen and carbon, the
other elements of coal—oxygen, in union with its equiva¬
lent of hydrogen, with nitrogen and sulphur—are driven
off in the gaseous form. Ammonia is the product of the
union of hydrogen and nitrogen, and may possibly be
driven off direct from the coal. However the chemical
details of combustion may be developed, it is certain that
hydrogen from coal practically monopolises a considerable
portion of atmospheric oxygen ; for the supply of which,
therefore, to the hydrogen, provision must be made with¬
out prejudice to the requirements of the fixed carbon, in
order to effect complete combustion.
CHAP. III.—THE HEAT OF COMBUSTION OF COAL AND COKE.
The total heat of combustion of the elements of coal,
simple and compound, has been the subject of elaborate
experiment by several physicists, amongst whom are MM.
Favre and Silbermann, who employed in their observations
the mercurial calorimeter, an instrument from which great
accuracy may be expected. The following table of the
results arrived at by the above-named experimentalists
shows the total heat of combustion with oxygen, of one
pound of each of the substances named, in British thermal
units, and also in pounds of water evaporated from 212°
Fahr., with the weight of oxygen required to combine with
one pound of each of the combustibles.
The result arrived at by MM. Favre and Silbermann, as
the total heat of combustion of carbon, is higher than that
of Dulong, 12,906 units, and that of Despritz, 14,040 units;
but it is preferred, as the highest result in experiments of
this kind is the most likely to be correct.
Combustible (1 pound).
Hydrogen gas 
Carbon, imperfectly \
burned, so as to make l
carbonic oxide J
Carbon, completely
burned, so as to make l
carbonic acid J
Olefiant gas 
Various liquid hydro¬
carbons 
Coal (average)..
Coke (average).
Weight of
Oxygen con¬
sumed per
pound of com
bustible.
lbs.
8
n
3#
O 9
2i
Total heat
in British
units.
units.
62,032
4,400
14,500
21,344
21,000
to
19,000
14,081
12,760
Evaporative
power in
weight of
water, from
212® Fahr.
lbs.
64-2
4-55
150
221
22
to
20
14-57
13-2
Combustion
of Coal
and Coke,
It is to be observed, that the imperfect combustion of car¬
bon, making carbonic oxide, produces less than one-third of
the heat yielded by the complete combustion of it; also, that
the heating power of hydrogen gas is 4^ times that of
carbon. It may be deduced, further, that the total heat of
combustion of any compound of hydrogen and carbon is
the sum of the quantities of heat which the hydrogen and
carbon contained in it would produce separately by their
combustion. It has also been inferred from other expe¬
riments, that the presence of oxygen and hydrogen in fuel,
in the proportion to form water or steam, does not affect
the total heat of combustion ; and that it is only the excess
of hydrogen that can be made serviceable as a source of
available heat. It would appear, however, that one essen¬
tial element in the question of the total heat of combustion
of coal has not yet been determined, namely the quantity
of heat absorbed from the general stock, or rendered latent,
in gasifying the hydro-carbons, which is to be charged
against the hydrogen, as the evaporative efficiency of the
hydrogen must be measured by the quantity of heat de¬
veloped in its union with oxygen, minus the heat absorbed
in the preliminary gasification of it. As Professor Rankine
concisely puts it, “ the heat obtained is the excess of the
heat produced by the combinations, above the heat which
disappears in consequence of the decompositions. Some¬
times, also, the heat produced is subject to a further deduc¬
tion, on account of heat which disappears in melting or
evaporating some of the substances which combine, either
before or during the act of combination.” One thing is clear,
that in order to make the best of it, the hydrogen, once
volatilised, should be oxidized, as well as the carbon
associated with it, in order to realize the large measure of
heat generated by their combustion. There is a favourite
theory, having at least the merit of simplicity, that the
heating power of coal is just equal to that of the coke
derived from it, which is manifestly absurd. It would be
nearer the truth to say, that the heating power of coal is
measured by that of its constituent carbon. The evi¬
dence of the evaporative powers of coals, abstracted in the
table, page 629, appears to support this mode of estima¬
tion, in so far as the evaporative efficiency varies gene¬
rally with the percentage of constituent carbon. The
percentages of constituent hydrogen vary within narrow
limits, and do not afford data for any marked compari¬
son ; but it may be suggested, that generally, the eva¬
porative efficiency is less, as the constituent hydrogen is
greater in quantity. Neither the variations of the hydro¬
gen nor those of the carbon, however, suffice to account
for the comparatively wide differences of efficiency; but,
on referring to the next column, of the constituent oxygen,
it is remarkable, that the efficiency of the fuel decreases
regularly as the percentage of oxygen in the fuel increases.
I
STEAM-ENGINE.
631
Physical Welsh coal, with about 84 per cent, of carbon, and 4 per
omlitions cent, of oxygen, evaporates lb. of water per lb. of fuel;
of the whilst Derbyshire coal, with about 80 per cent, of carbon
|ombustionancl 10 per cent, of oxygen, evaporates only 7*58 lb. of
of Coal. water per p0uncl 0f fuei. The difference of carbon does
not sufficiently account for the difference of evaporative
efficiency; nor does the difference of hydrogen, which is
practically the same in both cases. The prime cause, appa¬
rently, is the oxygen, which is in great excess in the in¬
ferior coal; and an explanation readily occurs. All this
oxygen must, in the first place, be volatilised, and it must
absorb a portion of heat, which is thus diverted from the
business of evaporation; and though, no doubt, it may
subsequently restore the heat thus temporarily abstracted
in combining with the hydrogen as a gas, yet, as compared
with the atmospheric oxygen, which, in the absence of
solid oxygen, supplies its place, the solid oxygen is at a
disadvantage, in so far as atmospheric oxygen is yielded at
once in the half converted, desirable condition of a gas.
It appears, then, that the evaporative efficiency of coal
varies directly with the quantity of constituent carbon, and
inversely with the quantity of constituent oxygen; but that
it varies, not so much because there is more or less carbon,
as, chiefly, because there is less or more oxygen. The
percentages of constituent hydrogen, nitrogen, sulphur,
and ash, are practically constant, with individual excep¬
tions, of course, and their united influence should be so
also. Practically, then, treating the question as one of
evaporative efficiency, the solution of it lies between the
carbon and the oxygen.
The theoretical estimate of the calorific value of coal of
average quality, namely, the evaporation of 14*57 lb. of
water, from and at 212°, is confirmed by the results of an
apparatus constructed by Mr Wright of Westminster; so
contrived, that a portion of coal is burned under water, and
the products of combustion actually passed through the
water, so that the whole of the heat generated is absorbed.
By means of this apparatus, the following calorific values,
or total heats of combustion, were obtained, the particulars
of which were published in the Reports on the Use of the
Steam Coals of the Hartley District of Northumberland,
by Messrs Armstrong, Longridge, and Richardson:—
"Welsh coal  14-30 lb. from 212°
Hartley coal  14'63 „
Mean (by experiment)  14’46 lb.
By theoretical estimate  14-57 lb.
The total heat of combustion of coke is deducible
directly from that of carbon, which constitutes the com¬
bustible matter of coke. The percentage of carbon in coke
determines the percentage of its heating power. Thus:—
Coke.
Constituent
Carbon.
Good..  94 per cent.
Middling  88 ,,
Bad  82 „
Total heat of
Combustion of
one pound.
13,620 units
12,760 „
11,890 „
Total Evaporative
power in pounds of
water from 212°
140
13-2
12-3
CHAP. IV.—PHYSICAL CONDITIONS OF THE COMPLETE
COMBUSTION OF COAL.
It has been seen that coal undergoing combustion is ex¬
hibited in two forms, solid and gaseous, of which the solid
(coke) rests on the grate, and the gaseous (hydro-carbons
and hydrogen) rise from the solid portion. To get the air
into immediate contact and mixture with these elements,
so as completely to burn them individually and in detail, is
the important problem, the solution of which has been the
study of engineers. The mode of so introducing and mix¬
ing the air depends on the circumstances of the furnace.
If the grate be very large, and the combustion very slow
and uniform, as is usual in the practice of Cornish pumping-
engines, all or nearly all the air needed for effecting the Physical
complete combustion of the fuel may be passed through the Conditions
grate. If, on the contrary, the grate be small, and the com- of the
bustion rapid and irregular, as in locomotive practice, a
large proportion of the air needed to accomplish the entire
combustion of the fuel must be introduced above the fuel,
there to mix with and consume the gases. The introduc¬
tion of air through the grate is, in ordinary practice, the
fundamental condition; the admission of air otherwise
above the fuel is auxiliary or supplementary to it, supplying
just the additional quantity of air requisite to complete the
combustion.
Again, the temperature should be maintained at a suffi¬
cient elevation, or, more correctly, it should not be lowered
by external causes, during the combustion of the hydro¬
carbon gases, in order to effect the union of the carbon
element with its full proportion of oxygen. In chemical
order, the hydrogen discharges the associated carbon, and
unites with oxygen ; by this union intense heat is gene¬
rated, which envelopes the separated carbon-particles, and
raises them to a white heat. Becoming thus luminous, and
being the matter of flame, the carbon, in its intensely
heated state, is prepared to unite with its saturating propor¬
tion of oxygen, and the union is effected the instant they
meet, should the carbon retain its temperature until it gets
into contact with oxygen. Upon this contingency depends
the final condition of the precipitated carbon, whether as
unburnt, uncombined particles, the colouring matter of
smoke, or as the product of combustion, carbonic acid*
Should the carbon-particles miss the opportunity of uniting
with oxygen whilst yet at the high temperature which
qualifies them to unite, it becomes practically impossible
to restore them to the combining condition, and they in¬
evitably pass away as smoke.
It follows, further, as a condition essential to the com¬
plete combustion of coal, that the combustible gases should
be thoroughly mixed with their supply of air. When the
streams or columns of hydro-carbon gases rise, undisturbed
or unbroken, from the body of the fuel, they are decom¬
posed in bands or films at what may be conceived as their
surfaces of contact, when the oxygen of the surrounding
air unites, in the first place, with the hydrogen of the de¬
composed distillation, and, in the second place, with the
carbon-particles. So far the combustion is complete.
Watery vapour and carbonic acid are generated as the re¬
sults of the union of the distilled gases and the oxygen.
At this stage, however, a contingency arises, and a partial
re-action may ensue; for in the ordinary course of the
circulation of the gases, the film or stratum of burnt gas
mixes with and loses itself amongst the neighbouring
hydro-carbon gases, and should there not be present a suf¬
ficiency of fresh atmospheric oxygen to continue the com¬
bustion in that quarter, the newly formed carbonic acid
would be attacked by the hydrogen of the hydro-carbon,
and resolved into its elements, of which the oxygen would
be appropriated by the hydrogen, and the carbon would be
re-precipitated simultaneously with the carbon separated
from the newly formed hydrogen. It may be observed,
however, that notwithstanding such occasional action and
re-action to which the carbon is subjected, and chargeable
to the superior affinities of the associated hydrogen, the
carbon may be in condition, as at first, to again unite with
oxygen, and to be ultimately and completely burned:—in the
condition, namely, of a sufficiently elevated temperature.
It is clear that a continuous process of intermixture is neces¬
sary to the completion of the combustion of coal, bringing
together successively fresh portions of the combining ele¬
ments, and throwing the separated carbon in the w*ay of
fresh oxygen for its own proper combustion.
The complication that usually characterizes the burning
of coal is, then, both physical and chemical; physical, be-.
Combustion
of Coal.
632
STEAM-ENGINE.
Physical cause an intimate mixture, and a suitable proportion of the
Conditions elements concerned, is essential to the completeness of their
of the conversion ; chemical, because, unfortunately for the spe-
Gombustion cial object Gf t]ie furnace, which is to generate heat, the
V ° °^ •, least important element, hydrogen, is precisely that which
“commands the preference, and must have its share of oxy¬
gen before the claims of the staple element, carbon, can be
really entertained and satisfied. The hydrogen must be
driven off before the main business of the furnace com¬
mences. The occasional presence of oxygen and nitrogen
in considerable quantity further complicates the process, as
they must be volatilised and driven off in the due course of
distillation.
Nevertheless, both coal and coke are, in good practice,
effectually burned in furnaces properly formed. The com¬
pleteness of the combustion of coke in locomotive boilers has
been proved by chemical and by mechanical analysis. The
combustion of coal has been for many years diligently studied
and practised by Mr Charles Wye Williams, and has been by
him reduced to successful and varied practice. His lead¬
ing principle, as published in his Treatise on the Combus¬
tion of Coal, is the introduction of air above the fuel, to
mix with and consume the combustible gases, on the prin¬
ciple of the argand lamp, through a great number of small
orifices in the furnace-door, or at the bridge, or otherwise.
In its application, of course, the details are various, and in
some classes of furnace having powerful draught, as loco¬
motive fire-boxes, it has not been found necessary to sub¬
divide the air so minutely as Mr Williams’ practice indicates.
On the system of steam-inducted air-currents, the air is
introduced in several streams, which, when necessary, are
propelled into the furnace amongst the smoke, by means of
jets of steam properly directed through the apertures, which
are quite efficient in effecting the object.
There is an opinion that there is advantage in burning
fuel in furnaces with long flues, slightly moist, and that
ash-pits should be supplied with water, from which steam
may be generated by the radiant heat from the fire, and
passed through the grate. There is no actual gain of heat
by this expedient; but it may be that the radiant heat,
otherwise lost, is utilised in making steam, which may in¬
crease the efficiency of the fuel. The access of water to
the fuel lessens the “ glow-fire ” or flameless incandescent
fuel, and increases the quantity of flame by forming car¬
bonic-oxide and hydrogen gases in its decomposition into
its elements, oxygen and hydrogen, and the reduction by
the oxygen of the carbonic acid already formed in the fur¬
nace. The presence of moisture, even in coke, creates
flame, and reduces the intensity of the heat in the “ glow-
fire on the same principle of deferred or distributed com¬
bustion, moist bituminous coal is found to be most effec¬
tive in furnaces with long flues, as in Cornish boilers, where
they are 100 or 150 feet in length. These considerations
point to the distinctive qualifications of coke and coal in
furnaces. Whilst, under steam-boilers, coal and coke may
be rendered equally efficient in the generation and com¬
munication of heat, per pound weight; on the contrary, it
has been found, as recorded by Mr Apsley Pellatt, who
gives the results of many years’ practice, that in glass fur¬
naces, where intense local heat is required, 13 cwt. of coke
is practically equivalent to 21 cwt. of coal. Coke is of the
most effective value where local intensity of heat is needed,
as in glass furnaces, and in others with short flues and
rapid draft, where the flame cannot be used. Coal is gene¬
rally more effective where carried heat is in demand, the
process of combustion being deferred and distributed, and
the active development of flame and heat being sustained
in the flues; and the benefit of a limited proportion of
moisture in the coal depends upon the length of the flues
and the time allowed for combustion, when the heat taken
up in the glow-fire is given out again in the flame.
The circumstances under which coal is burned under Efficiency
steam-boilers are as various as the qualities of coal itself, of Steam.
The rate of combustion varies from 2 lbs. to 120 lbs. of fuel Boilers.
per square foot of fire-grate surface per hour.; the combus-
tion may be equally perfect for all rates, and in good prac¬
tice it is so. The rate depends chiefly on the strength of
the draught, which, if by chimney, does not, at its best,
enable the furnace to consume above 30 lbs. of coal per
square foot of grate per hour. For higher rates of com¬
bustion, the blastrpipe or the fan is employed. The rates
of combustion in boiler furnaces may be thus classified :—
1. The slowest rate of combustion in Cornish
boilers with Welsh coal 
2. The slowest rate of combustion in Cornish
boilers with Newcastle coal....... 
3. Factory boilers     
4. Marine boilers 
5. Dry coal, quickest rate 
6. Caking coal, „     
7. Locomotives   
8. Do. ordinary variations..... 
lbs. per Square
Foot per Hour.
2 to 2}
4
12 to 16
16 to 24
20 to 23
24 to 27
40 to 130
50 to 100
The temperature of the products of combustion at the
instant of their formation varies of course with the quantity
of cold air in dilution. Professor Rankine estimates the
temperature to be as follows:—
Orlm,. <>'*«;«
Fuel, undiluted with air 4580°
If diluted with an excess of half the air 1 „01 -0
consumed J *
If diluted with an excess equal to all 1 giio0
the air consumed  | U
5050°
3515°
2710°
The temperature of the escaping products of combustion
in the chimney does not usually exceed 600° Fahr.; it is
frequently lower, occasionally not above 300°, and at times
barely sufficient to boil water. But this sort of excellence
is not to be found except with the largest class of boilers
and the slowest combustion. In passenger-locomotives on
ordinary duty, the temperature usually rises to 600° and up¬
wards, and in goods locomotives it probably reaches to 1000°.
CHAP. V.—THE EFFICIENCY OF STEAM-BOILERS.
Of the total heat of combustion of fuel, perfectly con¬
sumed in the furnace, a portion is absorbed through the
heating surface of the boiler, and the remainder passes off
without being utilised in the formation of steam. The
proportion of utilised heat, or the efficiency of the boiler,
varies with every circumstance, but it is regulated chiefly
by the area of the fire-grate, the area of the heating sur¬
face, and the rate of combustion per unit of grate-surface,
say per square foot of grate. If the grate be large and the
combustion slow, a greater extent of heating surface is
necessary to insure the same efficiency, than if the grate
were small and the combustion quick, supposing in the two
cases the same total quantity of fuel be consumed per hour.
The reason is, that the intensity of combustion increases
with the rate at which it proceeds per square foot of grate,
the general temperature is higher, as there is a less ex¬
cess of air in dilution, the radiant heat is also greater, and
consequently there is a more rapid absorption of heat into
the boiler. The importance of the last condition as to
radiant heat is proved by the experiments of Peclet, who
found that more than half of the heat of incandescent fuel
is radiated from the mass. The relative proportions of
the grate area, the heating surface, and the rate of com¬
bustion, constitute a question of great practical import¬
ance. It was investigated with respect to locomotive-
boilers, and the results published in Railway Machinery,
in 1852, and also in the Proceedings of the Institution
of Civil Engineers, in 1853, when it was shown that,
in order to insure the same efficiency, the following rela-
STEAM-ENGINE.
633
Efficiency tions must be observed:—For a given area of grate,
of Steam- the total hourly consumption of fuel should vary as the
Boilers. Square Gf t]ie tota[ heating surface; that is to say, for
^ ™ example, if the heating surface were doubled, the total
consumption of fuel might be increased to four times,
whilst the same evaporative efficiency would be main¬
tained. 2d, For a given extent of heating surface, the
total hourly consumption should vary inversely as the
area of grate; for example, if the grate-surface were in¬
creased to twice the area, the total hourly consumption of
fuel should be absolutely reduced to one-half, in order to
maintain the same efficiency. 3rf, For a given hourly con¬
sumption of fuel, the area of fire-grate will vary as the
square of the heating surface, in maintaining the same effi¬
ciency ; for example, if twice the heating surface be em¬
ployed, the grate may be extended to four times; con¬
versely, if half of the heating surface be removed, thegrate
must be reduced to one-fourth of its area.
The mutual relations of heating surface, grate-area, and
consumption of fuel, thus announced, are remarkable; and
they bear upon the well-known sensitiveness of furnaces to
superfluous enlargement of grates, in the reduction of effi¬
ciency. For it appears, that if a grate be doubled in area,
only half the 'fuel can be burned on it, and only half the
steam generated, if the same degree of efficiency, or evapo¬
rative power of the fuel, is to be maintained; so that only a
fourth of the fuel can be, with equal utility, burned upon
a square foot of the enlarged grate. It is apparent, then,
that a superfluous size of grate is detrimental to the power
of the boiler, unless at a sacrifice of fuel. On the contrary,
an extension of heating surface adds in a still greater pro¬
portion to the power of the boiler, whilst the same efficiency
of fuel is maintained. The general equation embodying
these relations is,
H2
F = C ~,
vjt
in which F=the quantity of fuel consumed per hour, H =
the area of heating surface, G = the area of fire-grate, and
C = a co-efficient, which is constant for similar boilers, but
may vary for different kinds of boilers. Let the fuel be
expressed in pounds, and the areas in square feet, and let
the efficiency be represented by the evaporation of 9 pounds
of water per pound of fuel, then the constant for locomo¬
tive-boilers, burning good coke, is equal to •0154, and the
formula becomes
H2
F = -0154 ~.
G
Assuming 10 square feet area of grate, the hourly consump¬
tion of fuel, for different heating surfaces, capable of evapo¬
rating 9 lb. of water per pound of coke, are as follow :—
Area of Grate.
Square feet.
10
10
10
10
10
10
Area of
heating surface.
Square feet.
450
500
600
700
800
900
Consumption of
coke per hour.
Effieiency=9 lb. of
water per lb. coke.
lb.
312
385
554
755
985
1247
If the consumption be expressed at per unit of grate
area, one square foot, the expression in the general formula
becomes
in which r = the ratio of the heating surface to the grate,
and showing that the consumption of fuel, for constant effi¬
ciency, per square foot of grate, varies as the square of
VOL. xx.
that ratio; in which case the formula for locomotives, as
before, is
v F1='0154 r\
The relative consiitnption of water evaporated is nine times
the weight of coke, or •0154 r2 x 9 = T384 r2. The follow¬
ing are examples of the relative quantities, reduced to units
of measure:—
Efficiency
of Steam-
Boilers.
Ratio of
heating surface
to fire-grate.
Grate = 1.
45
50
60
70
80
90
Consumption of
coke per square
foot of grate
per hour.
lb.
31
38
55
75
98
125
Evaporation of water
per square foot of
grate per hour.
lb.
28Q
346
498
678
886
1121
Cubic feet,
4-5
56
8-0
10-9
140
18-0
Evaporation of
water per square
foot of heating
surface per hour
lb.
62
6-9
8- 3
9- 7
11-1
12-5
This statement shows how very much the active value
of the heating surface, per unit of its area, in evaporating
water with the same degree of efficiency, may be increased
by relatively reducing the grate, or by extending the heat¬
ing surface itself. These results are based upon the con¬
ditions of the ordinary locomotive-boilers, with fire-box and
small flue-tubes, about 2 inches diameter, and with sufficient
clearance between the tubes, say f or f inch for 160 tubes,
and, of course, under good management. The same pro¬
portions stand good for coal in the locomotive. The
evaporative standard of 9 lb. of water per pound of fuel is
assumed, which would be equivalent to the utilisation of,
say, 10,000 units of heat per pound of fuel, or about £ths
of the total heat of combustion. For other evaporative
standards, though, no doubt, the same general equation is
appropriate, different co-efficients would be required; and
with respect to locomotive-boilers, it may only now be re¬
marked, that, generally, within certain limits, the greater
the rate of combustion on a given area of grate, with
a given heating surface, the less is the evaporative effi¬
ciency. In locomotive boilers, an evaporative efficiency of
above 10 lb. of water per pound of fuel has been attained.
It must be admitted, however, that in general practice, an
evaporation of only 8 lb. of water per pound of fuel is ef¬
fected; and the efficiency fluctuates within the ordinary limits
of 7 lb. and 9 lb. per pound of fuel. In locomotive practice
the fuel is very commonly consumed at a rate varying from
60 lb. to 80 lb. per square foot of grate ; but it descends as
low as 40 lb. per foot of grate, with passenger-trains, and
amounts to 100 lb., 120 lb., and even above that, per foot of
grate per hour, in working goods-trains.
It follows, that the “long-boiler” type of locomotive-
boiler, introduced and made by Messrs Robert Stephenson
and Co., with a moderate grate, and long flue-tubes, is in
general the most efficient in evaporative performance.
The general equation of efficient evaporative power is
applicable to all classes of boilers, the value of the co-effi¬
cient probably differing for each class, and, of course, for
each sort of fuel. The doctrine is powerfully illustrated in
the practice of Cornish boilers, in which, with very large
grates, the rate of combustion, as practised in Cornwall, is
only from 2 to 4 lb. of fuel per square foot of grate. It is
by slow combustion, they say, that they obtain their econo¬
mical results, namely, a high evaporation of water—about
10 lb. per pound of coal. The system, of course, demands
immense boilers, with long flues and extensive heating
surface, to absorb at leisure the heat produced so languidly
from the grate. The very low rate of combustion practised
is in accordance with the nature of the fuel, commonly in
small pieces, and in the form of dross; it requires to be
deposited in layers on the grate and left undisturbed, so as
to burn off gradually and uniformly. If forced, or disturbed,
the smoke is disengaged, and there is a loss of efficiency.
4 L
634
STEAM-ENGINE.
Strength of Thus there is a necessity for a large grate, in order to
Steam- effect the complete combustion of the fuel; and there is a
v ^ ers,y necessity for a large boiler and extensive surface, in conse-
* v-"- quence of the large grate, in order to absorb the heat.
Professor Rankine has announced the following approxi¬
mate formula for expressing the efficiency of a furnace:—
E'_ BS
E~S + AF’
in which E denotes the theoretical evaporative power, and
E' the available evaporative power of 1 pound of a given
sort of fuel; S the area of heating surface in square feet per
square foot of grate, and F the number of pounds of fuel
burned per foot of grate per hour; A, a constant, which is to
be found empirically, probably proportional approximately to
the square of the quantity of air supplied per pound of fuel;
B, an empirical constant. In applying the formula to
different classes of boilers, different values of A and B are
proposed; for locomotive-boilers Professor Rankine com¬
putes the values of S and F from Mr Clark’s formula, and
arrives at near approximations for rates of consumption of
about 60 lb. of fuel per square foot of grate per hour.
With respect to forcing a boiler, that is, urging the fire
by frequent stirring and poking, discharging smoke and
wasting fuel—a practice strongly deprecated by Mr Fair-
bairn—Professor Rankine justly observes that “the economy
of fuel depends very much on the proper adjustment of
the rate of combustion per square foot of grate to the
draught of the furnaceand that “ it is best, in prac¬
tice, to make the grate-area at first rather too large, and
then to contract it by means of fire-bricks, until the smallest
area is obtained upon which the required quantity of coal
can be burned without incomplete combustion ”
CHAP. VI.—STRENGTH OF STEAM-BOILERS.
smaller, and in some cases thicker plates are positively
weaker at the joints than thinner ones. The “ working
strength” is measured by the maximum strain prescribed
by cautious engineers for practice, and does not usually
exceed one-sixth of the ultimate strength, though occasion¬
ally one-fifth.
To apply these data for finding the strength of a cy¬
lindrical boiler—for example, one of 6 feet in diameter,
and Staffordshire plates f-inch thick; the strength is to be
expressed in lbs. per square inch. The united thickness of
two opposite sides of the boiler is | x 2 = f-inch, and there is
f square inch sectional area of metal to resist the strain on
1 inch length of the boiler. The ultimate strength of Staf¬
fordshire plate is 20 tons per square inch, or 15 tons on f
square inch. In 6 feet diameter there are 72 inches, and
15 tons-r-72 = 466 lb. per square inch, the ultimate strength
of the solid metal of the boiler expressed in steam-pressure ;
and 466-t-6 = 78 lb. per square inch, the working strength
of the solid metal. If the plates be united by single-
riveted lap-joints, of which the strength is only 60 per cent.
60
of that of the solid plate, then 78 x y^}=47 lb. per square
inch is the working pressure per square inch.
Large iron tube flues are not capable of resisting so
great a pressure externally against a collapse as they can
bear internally, and they require careful staying to prevent
collapse. Mr Fairbairn has worked out that question suc¬
cessfully, and he finds that the power of resistance of a
plain tube to external pressure varies inversely on the un¬
supported length of the tube, inversely on the diameter, and
inversely on the square of the thickness. The application
of angle-iron ribs for stiffening long flues, recommended by
Mr Fairbairn, is shown in his double-flue boiler, already
described, Plate XX.
English boiler-plates of iron are usually classed as York¬
shire plates, and Staffordshire, indicating the localities where
they are manufactured. Cast-steel plates, also, are success¬
fully manufactured of great strength, tenacity, and tough¬
ness; and good boilers may be made of that material.
American boiler-plate appears to be made generally of
superior quality. The following are the average ultimate
tensile strengths of boiler-plate; that is to say, the weights
necessary to tear the material asunder, per square inch of
section:—
Per square inch.
Yorkshire iron plate, best quality  25 tons.
Staffordshire iron plate, do 20 „
American iron plate, do 31 „
Do. do. ordinary  27 „
Cast-steel plates   40 „
The breaking or ultimate tensile strengths of welded and
riveted joints, making that of the solid plate = 100, are as
follow:—
1. The solid plate  100
2. Scarf-welded joint  100
3. Double-riveted double-welt joint  80
4. Double-riveted lap-joint  72
5. Lap-welded joint  66
6. Double-riveted single-welt joint  65
7. Single-riveted lap-joint  60
It thus appears that scarf-welded joints are equal in
strength to the solid plate, and that lap-welded joints, or
such as have the edges of the plates merely superposed,
have only £ds of the strength. Double and single riveting,
as the terms imply, signify the union of two plates by two
rows or by one row of rivets, respectively. A welt is a
band of metal applied over the seam on one side ; a double¬
welt is applied on both sides. The above proportions are
to be accepted as correct, for plates not exceeding f-inch
in thickness; for thicker plates the relative strengths are
CHAP. VII.—RUPTURES AND EXPLOSIONS OF BOILERS.
A steam-boiler fails, when the internal pressure of the
steam overpowers the strength of the boiler to withstand
the pressure. The boiler is said to rupture when the fail¬
ure is not accompanied by a sudden or extraordinary de¬
velopment of elastic force ; the material of the boiler giving
way, by cracking or splitting open, and affording an outlet
for the contained water and steam. The boiler is said to
explode when the failure is accompanied by an extraor¬
dinary development of elastic force ; the boiler being rent
and torn asunder at strong places and weak places, fre¬
quently without distinction. When merely ruptured, a
boiler rests in its place; when exploded, it is usually torn
from its bed and projected—more or less entire, or in frag¬
ments to considerable distances from its bed, carrying with
it, or repelling, whatever opposes its progress, moving large
masses, and affording other evidences of the enormous
power suddenly developed as a consequence of the failure
of the boiler. Various theories of explosions have been
proposed; but though, to a greater or lesser extent, they
serve to explain special phenomena, yet, by none of those
hitherto proposed has the essential distinction between
ruptures and explosions been accounted for. Many of
them are based upon considerations derived from the
sciences of electricity, magnetism, and chemistry:—electrical
discharges, and the decomposition of steam into its ele¬
mentary gases, oxygen and hydrogen; and the subsequent
explosion of the hydrogen. Suffice it for the present to
say, that discharges of electricity have only been proved to
take place outside boilers, not inside; that steam can only
be decomposed at a temperature equal to that of iron at a
white heat, and that when decomposed, the oxygen unites
with the material of the boiler, forming a metallic oxide,
and the hydrogen alone remains. But without a sufficient
combining equivalent of free oxygen, which is nowhere to
Ruptures
and Ex¬
plosions of
Boilers.
STEAM-ENGINE.
635
Ruptures be had within a boiler, an explosion of hydrogen cannot
and Ex- take place.
^Boilers°f ort^nary explanation of explosions assign them to
01 original weakness of boilers; to weakness produced by
gradual corrosion of the material of which the boiler is
made ; to wilful or accidental obstruction or overloading of
the safety-valves; to the sudden production of steam of a
pressure greater than the boiler can bear, in a quantity
greater than the safety-valve can discharge, of which the
primary cause is said to be the overheating of a portion of
the plates of the boiler, uncovered by water, and exposed
to the intense heat of the furnace, so that a store of heat
is accumulated, which is suddenly expended when water is
suddenly placed in contact with the overheated plates, in
the production of a large quantity of steam at a high pres¬
sure. These arguments, of course, point generally to the
existence of overpressure—excessive with relation to the
strength of the boiler to resist it, as the general cause.
Mr Fairbairn, in his Useful Information for Engineers,
takes the same view of the causes of the failure of boilers.
The argument of simple overpressure, however, backed by
the weighty authority of Mr Fairbairn, fails to explain the
generic distinction between the causes of ruptures and those
of explosions.
The essential distinction appears to be indicated by the
symptoms, namely, the non-production of extraordinary elas¬
tic force in the case of ruptures, and the obvious production
of it in the case of explosions. The phenomena of explosions
are to be ascribed to the projectile force acquired hy the par¬
ticles of water and steam within the boiler, by reason of the
suddenly developed expansive force of the steam, spon¬
taneously generated in the boiler, concurrently with the
sudden fall of pressure produced by the sudden escape of
steam from the boiler, at the locality of the original failure ;
or by its enlargement of volume from any cause, as the
collapse of a flue, for example. The particles of water and
steam are projected against the shell of the boiler at an
enormous velocity, like as many bullets, or small shot,
making up in velocity what they want in mass or weight;
and they communicate their centrifugal momentum to the
material of the boiler, necessarily straining it, and when
powerful enough, tearing it asunder, and thus effecting an
explosion. Space, or latitude, is required for the genera¬
tion of such projectile velocity, and the momentum due to
the velocity ; and if the water were confined within tubes
entirely filled by it, there would be no projection of par¬
ticles, and no explosive momentum, until the level of the
water descended below the point of rupture, which explains
the fact of the greater safety of water-tube boilers. The
action of the projectile force in question is manifested by
the bulging outwards of the flue-tubes usually to be ob¬
served in exploded locomotive boilers, due to the sudden
generation of steam amongst the tubes; and the new
theory affords an explanation of the frequent explosions of
boilers that occur immediately after the starting of the en¬
gine, when, in the first place, the pressure in the boiler is
lowered by the sudden admission of steam to the engine,
and its rapid consumption by condensation in blowing
through condensing engines, succeeded by the immediate
spontaneous generation of fresh steam, and a discharge of
projectiles within the boiler. The famous explosion on
board the Great Eastern steamship may be similarly ex¬
plained : the feed-water heater consisted of a cylinder sur¬
rounding the chimney, forming an annular space, filled with
water and steam at a high temperature and pressure. The
chimney, being unstayed, collapsed like a flue, under the
pressure on its outer surface, and thus occasioned a sudden
enlargement of volume within the heater, and a simultaneous
reduction of pressure ; the steam suddenly and spontane¬
ously generated, expanded against the collapsed flue, and Deposits in
rebounded on the casing, projecting water with it; the mov- Boilers,
ing mass of steam and water thus suddenly arrested, ex-
pended its momentum on the casing, and rended it asunder.
Explosions are probably in many cases preceded by
ruptures. Circumstances determine whether a rupture shall
be followed by an explosion. The limits of this article
forbid the extended discussion of such circumstances, but
perhaps the occurrence of an explosion, in ordinary cases,
mainly depends upon the locality of the rupture, under
water, or above water. If under water, water only is ex¬
pelled, causing very little enlargement of volume, reduction
of pressure, or internal commotion, and therefore unlikely
to incur explosion. If, on the contrary, the rupture takes
place above water, steam issues with the enormous velocity
due jointly to its comparative lightness and its tension—
1800 to 2000 feet per second—which, of course, would
cause the evacuation of the steam-room of an ordinary
boiler instantaneously through a very small opening, and,
therefore, an instant fall of pressure and an instant gene¬
ration of steam, and the projection of water and steam at
the rate of many hundred feet per second within the boiler.
This new theory, which may be called the projectile
theory of explosions, is susceptible of a variety of illustrative,
collateral, and confirmatory evidence ; and whilst it is com¬
patible with other and more partial theories, it serves to
account for much that remains otherwise unexplained, with
respect to the various forms of the failure of boilers.
For the prevention of explosions, proper precaution must
be exercised in the choice of materials, and the design and
construction of the boiler. It should be subjected to fre¬
quent and careful inspection, and should have a sufficiently
free action of the safety-valves, one or more of which
should be placed beyond the control of attendants, and
should suffice to liberate surplus steam sufficiently freely to
prevent an excessive rise of pressure, under all ordinary
circumstances. The sudden production of steam, in excess
of the ability of the safety-valves to discharge the surplus,
is most likely to be prevented by avoiding the forcing of
the fires, which makes the boiler produce steam faster
than the rate suited to its size and surface; by a regular,
constant, and sufficient supply of feed-water; and by ab¬
staining from the sudden introduction of feed-water, should
the plates have become overheated, which would produce
an explosion, and by drawing the fires, so as to allow the
boiler and its contents to cool down, before refilling it with
water.
CHAP. VIII.—DEPOSITS IN BOILERS.
The impurities of the feed-water are precipitated and
deposited on the internal surface of a boiler ; sometimes as
a hard crust of the minerals contained in the water, chiefly
sulphate of lime; sometimes as mud or sediment, which
settles loosely. Hard deposits, by resisting the conduc¬
tion of heat, impair the efficiency of the boiler, as well as
its durability and safety; and they may be prevented,
either by administering chemical re-agents with the water,
neutralising the ingredients of the water, or converting
them into innocuous or loose compounds, which fall as
sediment; or, what is better, by purifying the water before
it is admitted into the boiler. The practice of surface-
condensation in steam-engines, by which the condensed
steam may be collected and returned to the boiler, insures
a supply of pure water. (d. k. C.)
(Besides the authorities mentioned in the body of the
foregoing article, the following have been consulted:—The
Engineer; Proceedings of the Institution of Mechanical
Engineers ; Bourne’s Catechism of the Steam-Engine.)
636
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- Of triumphs of man s ingenuity for which this age
vigation. is so remarkable, none, perhaps, has conduced more to the
wellbeing and happiness of the human race than the art of
Steam Navigation. This is apparent when we consider the
vastly extended means of communication which we now
enjoy with the most distant parts of the globe ; the fresh
impulse given to commercial undertakings by the rapidity,
the safety, and the certainty of steamships, as compared
with sailing-vessels; and the increasing spread of civiliza¬
tion and Christianity attendant upon our intercourse with
distant and semi-barbarous nations. It is not wonderful,
therefore, that the merit of having invented an art so preg¬
nant with interest to mankind should be claimed for many
different individuals ; and we accordingly find the names of
ingenious men of all countries associated, more or less, with
its origin.1
Paddle- The use of paddle-wheels, propelled by manual or ani-
wheels used mal power, dates back to a very remote period, these having
cfentT an* been emPloyed by the ancient Egyptians, the Romans, and
other nations of antiquity, for propelling their war-galleys ;
but it is doubtful whether any advantage was thus ob¬
tained in economy of labour, as compared with the use of
oars. It is not, therefore, until the gradual development
of the steam-engine, and its introduction as a motive power,
that we can hope to find any advancement in the long-
sought-for art of navigating ships against adverse winds
Blasco de and currents. The first historical notice we meet with of
Garay, such a combination—a steam-engine placed on board a
1543. vessel to act as the propelling agent—occurs in the year
1543, when we are informed that Blasco de Garay, a sea-
captain in the service of Charles V. of Spain, succeeded in
propelling a ship of 200 tons burthen in the harbour of
Barcelona, at the rate of a league (or three miles) an hour.
No information is afforded us of the nature of his apparatus,
except that it comprehended a boiler, which, it is stated,
was liable to burst; that the power was transmitted through
paddle-wheels, and that the vessel could be turned with
much facility by means of the apparatus. We can only
speculate as to the nature of this mysterious engine, but it
seems probable that it owed its efficacy to the reaction of
a jet of high-pressure steam, on the same principle as that
famous classical toy, the JHolipile of Hero, invented b.c.
120. Notwithstanding that the scheme was commended
by the emperor and his ministry, and its author promoted,
we do not read of any second experiment being made, or
of any further notice being taken of the invention. We
may assume, therefore, that in this case the propelling
power was found to be insufficient and unsatisfactory, and
the experiment was worthless in its result.
In the year 1630, David Ramsey, “ page of the king’s
bed-chamber,” obtained a patent “ To make boats, ships,
and barges goe against the wind and tyde,” but we do not
hear of any experiments having been made by him. The
patent office contains records of various similar suggestions
made between the years 1630 and 1681, but nothing of
any practical value appears to have been effected. At the
latter date the ingenious Dr Papin, a Frenchman, de¬
scribed a method of propelling a vessel by steam. The
only engine then known, however, being itself so crude
and imperfect, the doctor experienced so much difficulty in
reducing his scheme to practice, that it is believed no
actual trial of it ever took place. His principal difficulty
1 r^lie historical portion of this article is indebted to Professor B,
for some valuable facts.
lay in obtaining the required rotatory motion from the re- Steam Na-
ciprocating one of the piston, for which purpose he proposed vigation.
to employ two cylinders, the piston of one of which should
be ascending, while that of the other should be descending,
the continuous rotative motion being obtained by means of
racks attached to the extremities of the piston-rods, work¬
ing alternately into a pinion on the paddle shaft. Although
Dr Papin’s schemes can only be viewed in the light of
theoretical suggestions, he still deserves much credit both
for his idea of the atmospheric engine, and for his proposal
to employ it for working the paddles of a boat. Savery, ‘
on the other hand (who published his Miner’s Friend in
the year 1698), although a great actual improver of the
steam-engine, and famous in his day as a clever mechani¬
cian, appears to have doubted the applicability of his engine
to the propulsion of ships, since he only alludes cursorily
to the possibility of such a thing.
In the year 1705 Newcomen, having adopted Papin’s Newcomen,
suggestions of the cylinder and piston, and Savery’s method 1705.
of condensation, first completed the atmospheric engine,
and made it capable of becoming, in practical hands, an
efficient propelling power; and it is worthy of remark, that
even at the present day, we have several excellent paddle-
wheel steamers which are most satisfactorily propelled by
modern atmospheric engines, constructed by the late Mr
Seaward. The great engineering difficulty at this period
was how to convert the reciprocating motion of the piston
into the rotary motion of the shaft; for although, to our
eyes, the crank may appear a very simple and almost self-
evident expedient for this purpose, it was not till long
afterwards that we find it introduced.
In the year 1730, Dr John Allen proposed to propel a
vessel by the re-action of a jet of water forcibly expelled
from the stern—a scheme which has been repeatedly re¬
vived since his time, and which has recently been attended
with a considerable amount of success in the hands of Mr
Ruthven of Leith. Six years after Dr Allen’s proposal,
Jonathan Hulls obtained a patent for his “Invention of a
machine for carrying ships and vessels out of or into any
harbour or river against wind and tide, or in a calm’’ His
idea of a steam-boat was as follows ; and however we may
now be inclined to smile at his rude mechanism, in compa¬
rison with the beautiful machinery of a steamship of our
own times, Jonathan Hulls undoubtedly deserves much
credit for his ingenuity. In his boat two paddle-wheels Mulls,1736,
were suspended in a frame projecting from the stern. In
the body of the boat were two steam cylinders, whose
pistons acted on the atmospheric principle ; that is to say,
they were impelled in one direction only, by the pressure
of the atmosphere acting against a vacuum. To each
piston one end of a rope was fastened ; the rope was then
carried round a grooved wheel or pulley on the correspond-
ing paddle-wheel, the other end of the rope being allowed
to hang free, with a weight attached to it. When one of
the pistons descended in its cylinder by the pressure of the
atmosphere, it pulled its rope, and consequently moved
round the paddle-wheel in a degree due to the length of
the stroke and the diameter of the pulley. While the
piston was ascending in the cylinder, on the re-admission
of the steam, the counter-balance weight at the end of the
rope dragged the pulley round in the contrary direction ;
but the pulley being attached to the paddle-wheel by
M oodcroft s Sketch of the Origin and Progress of Steam Navigation
STEAM NAVIGATION.
63T
Steam Na- ratchet-vvork, it was so arranged that the paddle-wheel
vigation. remained stationary during the retrograde motion of the
pulley. There being two cylinders and two paddle-wheels
in the boat, one would be in motion whilst the other was
stationary, and thus a continuous progressive movement
was given to the boat. It is uncertain whether this plan
was ever put in practice.
James We now arrive at the era of James Watt, whose inven-
Watt,l780. tive genius removed most of the obstacles which had
hitherto prevented the steam-engine from being effectively
employed for propelling vessels. His main improvement,
after his invention of the separate condenser, was the sub¬
stitution of the double-acting in place of the single-acting
or atmospheric engine, by which means the power of an
engine of given size and weight was at once doubled, while
the motion was at the same time rendered more uniform.
About this time also (1780) the crank and fly-wheel were
first patented by James Pickard. Although Watt’s improve¬
ments rapidly paved the way for the successful adaptation
of the steam-engine to the purposes of navigation, we do
not find that he himself devoted much attention at first to
this subject, confining his views to perfecting the rotatory-
engine, and increasing its economy. Accordingly, we
find that it was not till after the expiry of their patent in
1800 that Boulton and Watt’s engines were applied to this
Miller of
Dalswin-
ton, Taylor,
and Sy¬
mington,
1788.
use.
In the year 1781, the Marquis de Jouffroy constructed a
steamboat at Lyons of the following dimensions :—140 feet
long, 15 feet beam, and 3’2 feet draught of water. His
experiments, which were made in the river Soane, were
probably unsuccessful, as the subject was allowed to drop.
Leaving undescribed some abortive attempts of Ramsay
and Fitch in America, and Serrati in Italy, which were
attended with no practical result, we pass on to the first
really successful attempts at steam navigation, which were
made in 1788 by a Scottish gentleman, Patrick Miller of
Dalswinston, in Dumfriesshire. Having previously expe¬
rimented with boats propelled by the power of men and
horses applied to paddle-wheels, he resolved to make the
steam-engine do this work; but neither he nor Mr James
Taylor, who resided in his family as tutor, and assisted
him in his experiments, could devise a plan for apply¬
ing the engine. In this dilemma Taylor suggested that
they should call to their assistance an old schoolfellow
of his, Mr William Symington, an engineer, at that time
employed in endeavouring to adapt the steam-engine to
wheeled carriages. Mr Miller accordingly saw Symington
in Edinburgh, and, after examining the model of his loco¬
motive carriage, was convinced of the perfect applicability
of a similar engine to drive the paddle-wheels of a boat,
and gave orders for one to be made under the direction of
Symington and Taylor. This engine was accordingly
made in Edinburgh, sent to Dalswinton, and put together
by them in October 1788. The engine, in a strong oak
frame, was placed on one side of a twin, or double pleasure-
boat, on Dalswinton loch ; the boiler was placed on the
opposite side, and the paddle-wheels in the middle. In
the same month of October the machine was put in mo¬
tion, and the inventors had the gratification of witnessing
the perfect success of their efforts. Although the cylin¬
ders of their engine were but 4 inches in diameter, this
first steamboat attained a speed of 5 miles an hour on the
waters of the lake.
Mr Miller, being now desirous of trying the experiment
on a larger scale, commissioned Mr Symington to purchase
one of the canal-boats employed on the Forth and Clyde
Canal, and to have suitable engines constructed for her at
Carron Ironworks. When this new machinery was ready,
a trial took place on a straight reach of the canal of about
4 miles in length, on the 26th of December 1789, when
the vessel moved at the rate of about 7 miles an hour.
Many other experiments followed with a similar result, Steam Na-
and the following notice of them was sent by Lord Cullen vigation.
to several of the Edinburgh newspapers :—
“ It is with great pleasure I inform you that the experiment
which some time ago was made upon the great canal here by Mr
Miller of Dalswinton, for ascertaining the powers of the steam-
engine when applied to sailing, has lately been repeated with great
success. Although these experiments have been repeated under a
variety of disadvantages, and with a vessel built formerly for a
different purpose, yet the velocity acquired was no less than from
6J to 7 miles an hour. This sufficiently shows that, with vessels
properly constructed, a velocity of 8, 9, or even 10 miles an hour
may be easily accomplished, and the advantages of so great a velo¬
city in rivers, straits, &c., and in cases of emergency, will be suffi¬
ciently evident, as there can be few winds, tides, or currents which
can easily impede or resist it; and it must be evident that, even with
slower motion, the utmost advantages must result to’inland navi¬
gation.”
Although these experiments were thus partially success¬
ful, and their value well understood and appreciated, we
find that Mr Miller’s boat was soon afterwards dismantled
and laid up at Carron, and nothing further was at that time
attempted. This apparent apathy can only be accounted
for by the fact (which was afterwards acknowledged by Mr
Miller himself), that Symington’s machinery at this time
was not equal to the task of propelling a boat with the
degree of certainty and regularity necessary to insure com¬
mercial success. Hence, although the great principle of
the possibility of steam navigation was thus apparently
settled by Mr Miller’s experiments in 1788 and 1789, it
was not till the year 1801 that a really practical steamboat
was first produced in Scotland. In this year Thomas Lord
Dundas, who was well acquainted with Miller’s experi¬
ments, and who was a large proprietor in the Forth and
Clyde Canal, engaged Mr Symington to undertake a series
of experiments on this subject, with the view of employing
steamboats for towing on the canal in place of horses.
The result was the production of the Charlotte Dundas, The Char-
named after his lordship’s daughter, and which, from the lotte ^un'
simplicity and practical nature of its machinery, may be das’ 1801-
justly considered as the “ first practical steamboat.” The
superiority of this boat over its predecessors lay in Syming¬
ton’s more judicious arrangement of the machinery, which
consisted of Watt’s double-acting engine, working a con¬
necting-rod and crank, which turned a single paddle-wheel,
revolving in a well-hole near the stern of the vessel. This
engine had one horizontal cylinder, 22 inches in diameter
and 4 feet stroke. In March 1802 Lord Dundas, Mr
Speirs of Elderslie, and several other gentlemen, being on
board, the Charlotte Dundas “ took in drag,” says Mr Sym¬
ington, “ two loaded vessels, each upwards of 70 tons bur¬
then, and with great ease carried them through the Long
Reach of the Forth and Clyde Canal to Port-Dundas, a
distance of 19^ miles in six hours (being at the rate of 3£
miles per hour), although it blew so strong a gale right
ahead that no other vessel on the canal that day attempted
to move to windward.” Notwithstanding this favourable
result, the scheme was doomed a second time to disappoint¬
ment, in consequence of some of the proprietors of the
canal becoming alarmed at the destructive effects of the
wash of the steamboat upon the banks. The boat was
therefore laid up in a creek of the canal, where it remained
an object of curiosity merely for several years. It may be
remarked, that this production of Symington’s possessed
every necessary qualification which is considered requisite,
even at the present day, to make a good and useful steamer ;
and in proof of the confidence it inspired in its own time,
we may observe that the Duke of Bridgewater actually
ordered eight steamers from Symington for use on the
Bridgewater Canal, to be built on the model of the Char¬
lotte Dundas. His grace dying, however, shortly after¬
wards, this order was never executed.
638
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- We now arrive at the period when American enter-
vigation. prise stepped in to avail itself of the painful and laborious
results of these costly experiments, which although made
and perfected in this country, had not yet been turned
to good account. About a year after Symington’s ex-
Fulton, periment with the Charlotte Dundas, Fulton, the Ame-
1803. rican engineer, made a similar though less successful ex¬
periment on the Seine, for the weight of his engine broke
* the vessel in two, and the whole went to the bottom. He
persevered, however, and in August 1803 he completed
another vessel with its machinery. This boat was 66 feet
long and 8 feet wide, and moved so slowly that his experi¬
ment is described as having been a failure. Fie afterwards
came to Scotland, and saw Symington’s steamboat on the
Forth and Clyde Canal, his visit being thus recorded by
Mr Symington:—
“ When engaged in these experiments I was called upon by Mr
Fulton, who told me he was lately from North America, and in¬
tended returning thither in a few months, but having heard of our
steamboat operations, could not think of leaving this country with¬
out first waiting upon me, in expectation of seeing the boat, and
procuring such information regarding it as I might be pleased to
communicate, observing that, however advantageous such an in¬
vention might be to Great Britain, it would be still more valuable
in America, where there were so many great navigable rivers. In
compliance with his earnest request, therefore, I caused the engine-
fire to be lighted up, and, in a short time thereafter, put the steam¬
boat in motion, and carried him 4 miles west on the canal, return¬
ing again to the point from which we started in one hour and
twenty minutes (being at the rate of 6 miles an hour), to the great
astonishment of Mr Fulton and several gentlemen, who, at our out¬
set, chanced to come on board. During the trip Mr Fulton asked if
I had any objection to his taking notes regarding the steamboat, to
which I made no objection, as I considered the more publicity
that was given to any discovery, intended for general good, so
much the better; and, having the privilege secured by letters-
patent, I was not afraid of his making any encroachment upon my
right in the British dominions, though in the United States I was
well aware I had no power of control. In consequence, he pulled
out a memorandum-book, and, after putting several pointed ques¬
tions respecting the general construction and effect of the machine,
which I answered in a most explicit manner, he jotted down parti¬
cularly every thing then described, with his own observations upon
the boat during the trip.”
Fulton having thus obtained what information he could,
returned shortly afterwards to America, and, in conjunc¬
tion with Mr Livingstone, obtained a patent securing to
them the prospective advantages of steam navigation in
America, by what they were pleased to call “ their inven¬
tion of steamboats.” They very wisely got all their ma¬
chinery from England; so that in the year 1807 the first
steamboat in America was launched, and fitted with a pair
of engines constructed by Boulton and Watt.
The Cler- This vessel, called the Clermont, though probably fitted
mont,1807. with superior machinery to that in Symington’s boat, was
barely as fast, making under five miles an hour. Her
dimensions were 130 feet long, 16£ feet beam, and 7 feet
deep; the boiler 20 feet long, 7 feet deep, and 8 feet
broad; the steam-cylinder (one only) was 24 inches in
diameter, and 4 feet stroke; burthen 160 tons. Her
paddle shaft was of cast-iron, with no outer support be¬
yond the sides of the ship. The diameter of the paddle-
wheels was 15 feet, the boards being 4 feet long, and
dipping two feet in the water. She was subsequently
lengthened to the extent of 140 feet keel. In the begin¬
ning of the year 1808 the Clermont was placed for regular
wwk on the Hudson River, between New York and Al¬
bany, a distance of 125 geographical miles, and was crowded
with passengers, her speed after the alteration being at the
rate ot 5 miles an hour. This was, therefore, the first
steamboat that ever ran continuously for the accommoda¬
tion of passengers, and the first that ever remunerated her
owners, and to this the Americans may justly lay claim ;
but that Fulton was the “inventor” of the present system
of steam navigation, as asserted by some American authors, Steam Ha.
cannot be admitted ; nor, indeed, did he “ invent” any vigation.'
single improvement in the construction either of the ma-
chinery or the vessel. The success of their first steamer
induced Messrs Fulton and Livingstone to build two other
vessels, the Car of Neptune, of 300 tons, and the Para¬
gon, of 350 tons, also supplied with Boulton and Watt’s
engines.
The first person who ever took a steamer to sea was also Stevens,
an American, R. L. Stevens of Hoboken, who had been 1808.
associated with Livingstone previously to the connection of
the latter with Fulton, and had brought his experiments to
a successful issue nearly as soon. As Fulton, however, had
secured to himself the exclusive privilege of navigating by
steam in the state of New York, Stevens boldly took his
vessel round by sea from the Hudson to the Delaware.
To him are due many of the present peculiarities of Ame¬
rican steamers. He it was who first adopted the long
stroke; the upright guides for the piston-rod; the beam
overhead, raised on a high framework of wood, working
above the deck ; and the connecting-rod, descending thence
to the paddle-shaft, all characteristic of American steamers
to the present time. He also improved the form of the
American boats, by substituting a fine entrance and run for
the old bluff bow and stern, as well as by increasing their
relative length to eight or ten times the beam. Stevens is
believed to have been the first engineer who constructed a
“ tubular” boiler, though these did not come into general
use till long after his time.
Although steam navigation had been thus early intro¬
duced on the American waters, it was not till the year 1812
that the first regular passenger-steamer made its appearance
in this country on the Clyde. This was the Comet, built Comet,
for Mr Henry Bell, the proprietor of the Helensburgh 1812.
Baths on the Clyde, and who had long been a most zealous
advocate of steam propulsion. This little vessel was 40
feet long on the keel, and 10 feet 6 inches beam, propelled
by a steam-engine of three or four horse-power, with a ver¬
tical cylinder, and working on the bell-crank principle—the
engine being placed on one side of the vessel, and the
boiler (of wrought iron) on the other. The Comet made
her first voyage in January 1812, and continued to ply re¬
gularly between Glasgow and Greenock, at a speed of about
5 miles an hour. She was propelled by two small paddle-
wheels on each side, each wheel having four boards only.
She was afterwards transferred to the Forth, where she ran
for many years between the extremity of the Forth and
Clyde Canal and Newhaven, near Edinburgh. The dis¬
tance is 27 miles, which is stated by Mr Bell to have been
performed, on the average, in 3^- hours, being at the rate
of above 7£ miles an hour.
Mr Bell had on several occasions brought his projects for Henry
steam navigation under the notice of the British govern- Bell,
ment, but always without success; and it was not till the
year 1819 that the admiralty of the day became impressed
with the importance of steam-power for towing men-of-war,
chiefly through the representations of Lord Melville and
Sir George Cockburn. The first steam-vessel in the royal
navy was then built, and was also named the Comet.
She is still in existence, and measures 115 feet in length,
21 feet in breadth, and draws 9 feet water, being propelled
by a pair of engines, by Boulton and Watt, of 40 horse¬
power each.
But to return to Mr Bell’s steamers on the Clyde. The
Comet was so successful, that two other steamers, of in¬
creased size and power, were constructed ; and, in 1814, Mr
Cook, of Glasgow, built a fourth, called the “ Glasgow,”
which, in point of power and efficiency, became the standard
at that time for river-steamers. The marine engines
hitherto constructed had all been applied singly in the ves¬
sel ; but in 1814 Messrs Boulton and Watt first applied two
STEAM NAVIGATION.
639
Steam Na'
yigation.
David Na¬
pier,
1818.
The James
Watt, &c.,
1822.
The Sa¬
vannah,
1819.
condensing engines, connected by cranks set at right-angles
on the shaft, to propel a steamer on the Clyde. This was
found to be a great improvement, and thenceforward almost
all steamers have been fitted with two engines.
In the year 1815 a small vessel, with a side lever-engine
of 14 horse-power, by Cook of Glasgow, made a voyage
from Glasgow to Dublin, and thence round the Land’s End
to London. It then ran with passengers between London
and Margate with some success, though encountering great
opposition from the Thames watermen.
In 1818 Mr David Napier, to whom we owe the intro¬
duction of British coasting steamers, as well as of steam-
packets for our post-office service, first established between
Greenock and Belfast a regular steam communication by
means of the Rob Roy, a vessel of about 90 tons burthen
and 30 horse-power, built by Mr William Denny of Dum¬
barton. For two winters she plied with great regularity
and success between these ports, and was afterwards trans¬
ferred to the English Channel, to serve as a packet-boat
between Dover and Calais. Soon after this Mr Napier had
the Talbot built for him by Messrs Wood. She was 120
tons burthen; and when fitted with two of Mr Napier’s
engines, of 30 horse-power each, this vessel was in all re¬
spects the most perfect of her day. She was the first
steamer that ran between Holyhead and Dublin. About
the same time, also, he established the line of steamships
between Liverpool, Greenock, and Glasgow, for which
traffic he built the Robert Bruce, of 150 tons, with two
engines, of 30 horse-power each ; the Superb, of 240 tons,
with two engines of 35 horse-power each; and the Eclipse,
of 240 tons, with two engines of 30 horse-power each.
All these were established as regular coasting traders before
the year 1822.
In the latter year the steamer James Watt was built
by Messrs Wood, to ply between Leith and London. She
was the largest steamer that had yet been built, being 448
tons measurement, and fitted with two engines of 50 horse¬
power each, by Messrs Boulton and Watt. The Soho
followed on the same line, and was equally successful. The
next great advance made was in 1826, when the United
Kingdom was constructed, this vessel having been regarded
in her day with as much wonder and interest, from her
(so-called) gigantic proportions, as were afterwards the
Great Western, the Great Britain, and, more recently, the
Great Eastern. The United Kingdom was 160 feet long,
26^ feet beam, and 200 horse-power; the ship being built
by Mr Steele of Greenock, and the machinery by Mr David
Napier. Prior to this time many improvements had been
made in the arrangement and construction of the marine
engine by Boulton and Watt, Maudslay and Field, Penn,
and others of our eminent mechanical engineers; the ex¬
pansive action of steam in the cylinder having already been
taken advantage of by Messrs Maudslay and Field in their
engines, which were also fitted with escape-valves on the
cylinders, and other improvements.
The first steamer which crossed the Atlantic was the
“ Savannah,” an American vessel, of 300 tons burthen,
which arrived at Liverpool in the year 1819, direct from
the United States, in 26 days, partly steaming and partly
sailing. Being fitted with engines of small power, and the
vessel being otherwise unsuited for ocean navigation, this
must be regarded rather as a bold experiment (and not a
very successful one) than as establishing the practicability
of a rapid and regular steam communication between this
country and America; for it is only in the combination of
these two qualities that the steamship excels the sailing
vessel. In 1829 the Curapoa, an English built vessel, of
350 tons and 100 horse-power, made several successful runs
between Holland and the Dutch West Indies. Men of
science, however, plainly demonstrated, to their own satis¬
faction, that the navigation of the Atlantic by steam-power
alone was impracticable; and it was not till the Sirius and the Steam Na-
Great Western had shown the fallacy of their reasoning, that vigation.
the public mind was disabused of this idea. The Sirius
was not built expressly for transatlantic navigation ; she The Sirius
belonged to the St George Steam-Packet Company, and an(l Great
had run with a good reputation between London and Cork. )noc>tern'
Her tonnage was about 700 tons, and her horse-power 1
320. She started from London on the morning of the 4th
of April 1838, with 94 passengers. Though first in the
race, she was only three days in advance ; for on the 7th of
the same month the Great Western, built and fitted at
Bristol expressly for the purpose, followed her. The Sirius
arrived at New York on the 22d, being 17 days clear on
the passage, and the Great Western (sailing from Bristol)
on the 23d, being 15 days. The Sirius again sailed on her
homeward passage on the 1st of May, and the Great Western
on the 7th of May, and they arrived, the first on the 18th,
and the second on the 22d, being 16 and 13g days respec¬
tively. Ihe average speed of the Great Western on this
voyage was thus 8'2 knots on her outward passage, and
nearly 9 knots on her homeward, reckoning the distance at
3125 knots for the one, and 3192 for the other. She con¬
sumed 655 tons of coal going out, having still 205 tons re¬
maining in her coal-boxes upon her arrival at New York.
Coming home her consumption was 392, having 178 tons
remaining on her arrival at Bristol. Her average daily
consumption varied from 27 tons, with expansive gear in
action, to 32 tons without it. As the Great Western pos¬
sesses considerable historical interest, some of her principal
dimensions are here subjoined. She was designed and
built by Mr Paterson of Bristol, and fitted with machinery
by Messrs Maudslay, Sons, and Field of London. She is
212 feet long between the perpendiculars, 35 feet 6 inches
beam, and 23 feet 3 inches depth of hold, drawing from 16
to 18 feet of water. Her tonnage is i340 (builders’o.M.),
and her engines (on the side-lever construction) are 440
horse-power. Her cylinders are 73£ inches in diameter,
and 7 feet stroke, making 12 to 15 revolutions per minute.
Her complete success was doubtless mainly attributable to
the fact, that she was especially fortunate both in her de¬
signer and in her engineers, who are still, perhaps, the most
eminent of the present day in their respective departments.
The practicability of transatlantic steam navigation being
thus triumphantly established, the British Queen, the Pre¬
sident, and other large steamships, were built in rapid suc¬
cession, as well as many steam-vessels of war.
Up to this time the paddle-wheel was the only propelling The screw-
agent employed; but in 1837 the rival system of propelling propeller
ships by means of the screw-propeller first came prominently introduced,
into notice, through the successful experiments of Captain 183L
Ericsson and Mr F. P. Smith. Captain Ericsson’s small
vessel, of 45 feet in length, 8 feet beam, and but 2 feet 3
inches draught of water, towed the American ship Toronto,
of 630 tons, on the Thames, on the 25th of May 1837, at
the rate of 4i knots an hour, against the tide, as authenti¬
cated by the pilot; and also towed the admiralty barge, with
their lordships on board, from Somerset House to Black-
wall and back, at the rate of about 10 miles an hour.
Later in the same year Mr Smith made some very success¬
ful trips with his small boat and screw-propeller between
Margate and Ramsgate. The next screw-vessel was the
Robert Stockton, built in 1839 by Messrs Laird for an
American gentleman, who had witnessed Captain Ericsson’s
experiments. This boat was also perfectly successful; but
the Board of Admiralty still failed to recognise the peculiar
applicability of this means of propulsion for vessels of war.
Tbe next year, however, in 1840, Mr F. P. Smith, having
obtained the support of some influential mercantile men,
brought out the Archimedes, a screw-vessel of 232 tons The Archi-
burthen and 80 horse-power. The success of this vessel medes,
was so complete, that the Admiralty were at length induced 1840,
640
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- t0 make a trial of the screw in the royal navy, and the
vigation. Rattier was ordered to be built on the same lines as the
^ " v ^ Alecto paddle-wheel steamer, and to be fitted with en¬
gines of the same nominal power, dhe next screw-steamer
worthy of notice was the Dove, an iion boat, constiucted
under Mr Smith’s direction. Her speed, however, proved
so unsatisfactory to her owners, that they ordered her to be
chano-ed into a paddle-wheel boat; and as it happened that
she had been built with very fine after-lines, her constructor
unfortunately charged her deficiency of speed to this cir¬
cumstance, and adopted the theory that full stern-lines were
the most advantageous for the action of the screw. The
Rattler was now tried; and her trials having fully satisfied
the Board of Admiralty, they ordered the construction of
several screw-vessels, which were all built w ith full sterns.
This idea having at length been proved, by further experi¬
ment, to be erroneous, and that, on the contrary, fine after¬
lines were absolutely required for the proper efficiency of
the screw-propeller, so as to allow of a ready access and
escape of the water, the whole of these vessels were defi¬
cient in speed, and some of them were altered at great
cost.
The screw had meanwhile advanced rapidly into favour
as an auxiliary power for fast sailing vessels in the merchant
service; and more recently it has been extensively em¬
The
Rattler,
1842.
ployed for full powered steamers of the very largest class Steam Na.
(in preference to the paddle-wheel) by several of our great 'vigation.
mail-packet companies, the Peninsular and Oriental Com- v>'—v-*-'
pany taking the lead in this respect.
The requirements of the great navigable rivers of Ame¬
rica have naturally led to the supremacy of that nation in
the art of river navigation. The description of the large
American river-steamer, The New World, given in another
part of this article, as a type of her class, will be found both
novel and interesting.
This rapid sketch of the rise and progress of steam navi¬
gation would not be complete without referring specially
to the wonderful development it has lately received in the
construction of the Great Eastern, whose giant bulk is even
now struggling into life under peculiarly depressing cir¬
cumstances. In addition to the interest naturally excited
by the immense size of this vessel (whose proportions will
be given hereafter), she is destined to solve another pro¬
blem in marine engineering, namely, the desirability of
combining screw-propeller and paddle-wheels in the same
steamship.
A statistical table is subjoined, showing the progress of
steam navigation in the British Empire, from its first intro¬
duction in 1814, down to the most recent times for which
returns have been received.
Table showing the progress of Steam Navigation in the British Empire, by the Registrar-General of the
Board of Trade.
British Merchant-Steamers built
and registered each year.
Year.
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
Steamers.
6
10
9
10
9
4
9
23
28
20
17
29
76
30
31
16
19
36
38
36
39
88
Keg. Tons.
672
1,394
1,238
2,054
2,538
342
771
3,266
2,634
2,521
2,234
4,192
9,042
3,784
2,285
1,751
2,226
4,436
4,090
3,9 5
5,756
11,281
Total number of Merchant-
Steamers belonging to the
British Empire in each
year.
10
15
19
27
32
43
69
96
111
126
168
248
275
293
304
315
447
380
415
462
538
Reg. Tons.
456
1,633
2,612
3,950
6,441
6,657
7,243
10,534
13,125
14,153
15,739
20,287
28,958
32,490
32,032
32,283
33.444
37.445
41,669
45,017
50,735
60,520
British Merchant-Steamers built
and registered each year.
Year.
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
Steamers.
69
82
87
65
77
54
67
53
73
73
88
115
128
80
81
88
112
162
189
263
245
Reg. Tons.
9,700
12,147
9,857
6,522
10,639
12,391
14,931
6,739
6,930
11,950
17,172
17,333
16,476
13,480
15.527
23.527
31,792
49,008
66,446
84,862
58,621
Total number of Merchant-
Steamers belonging to the
British Empire in each
year.
Steamers.
600
668
722
770
824
856
906
942
988
1012
1070
1154
1253
1296
1350
1386
1414
1534
1708
1910
1950
Reg. Tons.
67,9 9
78,288
82,716
86,731
95,807
104,845
118,930
121,455
125,675
131,202
144,784
146,557
158,078
167,310
187,631
204,654
223,616
264,336
326,452
408,290
417,717
Explana¬
tion of
statistical
table.
It should be observed that the “register” tonnage here
given is exclusive of the tonnage of the engine-room, which
in a well-powered steamer generally amounts to one-half, or
more, of the registered tonnage. An addition of one-third
should therefore be added tor the gross tonnage of this
table. To take an example. The Shannon, West India
mail packet, has
Register tonnage 2187‘24 ^
Engine-room do 1284-57 VH.-F. 775
Gross do.... 347T81 J
The horse-power (nominal) averages about one-third of
the register tonnage ; so it may be fairly assumed that this
country now possesses a fleet of 2150 merchant-steamers,
having an aggregate gross tonnage of 670,000 tons, and a
nominal horse-power of 165,000 horses.
The steam navy of this country consists at present of
about 468 vessels, having an aggregate tonnage ot 470,000
tons, and a nominal horse-power of 110,000 horses.
Afloat (1859).
Ships of the Line 
Frigates  
Block Ships 
Mortar Ships  
Corvettes and Sloops..
Small Vessels 
Gun Vessels 
Gunboats 
Floating Batteries 
Tenders, &c 
Troops & Store Ships .
Yachts   
Total
Screw.
33
19
9
4
38
3
26
161
8
4
13
1
319
Paddle.
9
35
24
38
2
4
112
Building or
Converting.
Screw,
16
6
32
Total.
49
34
9
4
82
27
26
162
8
42
15
5
463
Steam Na¬
vigation.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
641
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Tig. 1.—Comparative sizes of the above Steamers.
n constructing a steam-vessel three things require to be
specia y considered, each of which is a sufficiently com-
p ex study in itself; namely, the ship, the engines and
oi ers, and the propeller. To combine these in such a
manner as to produce a perfect whole is one of the most
i cult problems of modern engineering, demanding at
once t ie theoretical attainments of the natural philosopher,
ana the laboriously acquired knowledge and shrewd saga¬
city of the practical mechanician. As the limits of this
artic e must preclude the pursuit of theoretical investiga¬
tion, it is proposed to confine it almost exclusively to the
practical part of the subject, and to a record of the results of
actual and approved performance.
The marine ihe marine steam-engine, although acting on the very
engme. same principles as the ordinary land condensing-engine,
and provided with the same integral parts, differs from it
essentially in the particulars of weight and form, being ne¬
cessarily made as light, and as compact, as possible. These
requirements throw many obstacles in the way of the ma¬
rine engineer which are not encountered on shore, both as
regards the engines and boilers; and his difficulties are
mci eased by the stern necessity which exists on board
s !p for the utmost economy in the consumption of fuel,
the value of which is there immensely enhanced.
pnirLeJ61^ • 6 °^st type °f the marine-engine is the side-lever
variety, which, till within the last ten or twelve years, was
a most universally employed in steamers ; and which is, in¬
deed, still preferred for paddle-wheel steamers, by at least
two large mail-packet companies—viz: Cunard’s and the
West India Mail Company (fig. 2). There are several
Fig. 2.
Side-lever Engine.
good reasons why this form of engine should be thus
avoure . In the first place, the working parts are well
balanced on either side of the main centre (c, fig. 2 ), so that
e engine will stand in any position without the piston
laving a tendency to fall by its own weight, thus enabling
vou xx. B
t e crank to be kept in the most advantageous position for
giving prompt motion to the shaft immediately that the
engine is started. Direct-acting engines are often very
troublesome in this respect. Another advantage of the
parts being nicely balanced is, that the engine works with
ittle friction, and consequently less strain, and tear and
wear of the brasses and moving parts of the machinery.
Hence the side-lever engine is very economical in main¬
tenance and repairs, as well as in the quantity of oil and
tallow required for lubrication, no mean item in the ex¬
penditure of some engines. Again, this form of engine
admits of a good long stroke and connecting-rod, by which
means the steam may be used to best advantage in the
cylinder, while, at the same time, the thrust of the piston
is transmitted to the crank in the most equable and effect-
ive manner. Many pairs of side-lever engines are still
doing their work well, after more than twenty years’ ser¬
vice, and have cost less for repairs than most direct-acting
varieties in half that time.
But although it may be quite true that side-lever engines Direct-
a.^e t™5 econom'cal in their working, it does not necessa- acting
nly follow that they are the best form of engine for pas- engines,
senger-steamers. On the contrary, when we consider the
Fig. 3.
Direct-acting Engines in Gorgon, &c. (Seaward.)
ralue of space and weight in a first-class merchant-steamer,
t appears probable that they are really more expensive
4 M
642
Steam Na¬
vigation.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
than the lighter and more compact forms of direct acting-
engines which have now so generally come into use, and by
Fig. 5.
Direct-acting Engines for shallow draught. (Maudslay and Field.)
employing which we may save at least 20 feet in the
length of the engine-room, and
100 tons of displacement, in
engines of 500 nominal horse¬
power. Direct-acting engines,
being susceptible of great va¬
riety of form, have assumed as
many different shapes as there
are manufacturing engineers
ready to invent, adaptor distort
them, as the case may be ; and
the now very general use of
the screw-propeller has, of
course, varied and modified
these forms still more). In
the merchant service, the
height of the machinery is
not of much moment, provided
only that it does not raise the
centre of gravity of the vessel
too high ; but in the steam-
navy it is considered essential
that the whole of the engines and boilers should (if pos- steam Na-
sible) be kept under the water-line of the ship, as a protec- vigation.
tion from shot; which, in the case of screw-vessels, is now
generally accomplished (see fig. 15).
Direct-acting paddle-wheel engines may be classed under Varieties,
four heads; namely, those which preserve the parallelism of
the piston-rod by means of the system of jointed rods called
a parallel motion (figs. 3 and 4); those which use guides
or sliding surfaces for this purpose (figs. 5 and 7) ; os¬
cillating engines (fig. 6), in which the cylinders are hung
upon pivots, and follow the oscillations of the crank; and
Fig. 7.
Direct Double-cylinder Engines, suitable for large power. (Maudslay.)
those denominated “trunk-engines” (fig. 8), in which a
hollow cylindrical trunk is attached to the
piston, and passes, steam-tight, through
the cylinder cover. Several of these va¬
rieties have their distinctive appellations,
being known as the “ steeple-engine”
(which is a favourite form on the Clyde);
Maudslay’s double-cylinder engine (fig.
7); the annular-piston engine (with two
piston-rods); the atmospheric engine;
the combined-cylinder engine (Plates
XXXIV. and XXXV.); and several
others. As verbal description is of little
value in making these forms intelligible to
the reader, sketches of the more charac¬
teristic of them are subjoined, as well as
detailed plates of approved examples (see
Plates). These engines are generally
made with two cylinders, but in the case of screw-engines
there are sometimes three, and sometimes four cylinders
Fig. 8.
Fig. 6.—Oscillating Paddle-wheel Engines in the Great Eastern. (J. Scott Russell.)
STEAM NAVIGATION.
643
Steam Na- placed in all possible positions; being found upright, in-
vigation. verted, horizontal, and inclined.
Screw-engines are made either with or without gearing.
Screw- The use of geared wheels intervening between the engine
engines. and the propeller admits of a slow speed of piston with a
high velocity of screw, and is so far beneficial, but in prac¬
tice there are several disadvantages attending it.
Fig. 9.
Horizontal Screw-engine (Direct), adapted for the Boyal Navy, &c.
noise, from which there is no escape on board-ship. In Steam Na-
steam-vessels of war it is difficult to keep the top of the vigation.
large wheel sufficiently low, while at the same time their
draught of water admits of the use of a screw of great
diameter and pitch, by which means the necessary speed
may be obtained for the ship without unduly increasing the
velocity of the piston. Hence there are comparatively few
geared screw-engines in the Royal Navy. In the case of
full-powered screw-engines in the merchant service, the
use of gearing is generally found to be necessary (fig. 10),
The driving-wheel is necessarily very large and cum- Vertical Screw-engine (Geared), adapted for the Merchant Service,
brous, while the wooden teeth with which it is fitted are but it may be advantageously dispensed with wherever the
subject to unequal wear, and are liable to be “ stripped,” power of the engines is not calculated to give a very high
or broken off, by a sudden stroke of the sea upon the screw, speed to the ship. The velocity of piston in actual use in
Their revolution is also attended with a loud rumbling different classes of steamers will be hereafter noted.
The following {Figs. 11 to 16) are other examples of Screw-engines :—
Fig. 12.—Oscillating-Cylinder Screw-engine, Direct.
Fig. 14.—Horizontal Cylinder Screw-engine, Geared.
Fig. 15.—Screw-engines in the Royal Navy, Direct.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
644
Fig. 16.—Screw-engines in the Royal Navy, Geared.
Nominal
horse¬
power.
The cylinder of the steam-engine, being that portion of
the machine in which the power is developed, must be
considered as its principal member. Upon its dimensions
depend, in some degree, the size of all the other parts of
the engine, as well as its reputed powers, being called an
engine of 100 or of 200 horse-power according to the dia¬
meter of the cylinder, modified to a small extent by the
length of the stroke. This, called the nominal horse-power,
is obtained by the formula—
.jj D  Area of cylinder x effective pressure X speed of piston
' ■“ 33,000.
In this formula the area of the cylinder is taken in square
inches; the “ effective pressure ” is assumed at 7 lb. (by
some makers at 7^ lb.) to the square inch ; and the speed of
the piston (according to the arbitrary rule adopted by the
admiralty), is presumed to vary with the length of stroke,
as shown in the following table :—
It is at once apparent that the power thus calculated
cannot be the real power of the engine, since it is wholly
irrespective of the pressure of steam in the boiler, the per¬
fection of the vacuum in the condenser, the actual number
of reciprocations of the piston, and the varying loss by
friction depending upon good or bad workmanship, and the
general plan of the engine. For the sake of convenience,
however, the nominal horse-power is still retained, since it
defines, with tolerable accuracy, the actual size of the
engine, and its commercial value, in so far as the latter is
dependent upon the dimensions of the cylinder. To re¬
medy, in some degree, the uncertainty attending the use of
this term, it is now becoming usual for the purchaser of a
steam-engine to insert a clause in his contract, binding the
manufacturer to show a certain specified amount of indi¬
cated horse-power.
The indicated horse-power of an engine is obtained by Indicated
the aid of a valuable little instrument called an indicator, horse-
consisting mainly of a small cylinder placed in connection Power>
with the cylinder of the engine, both above and below the
piston. This little cylinder is open at the top, and is fitted Descrip*
with a piston which presses against a spiral spring. The of the
cock which connects the indicator with the cylinder of the in ica or*
engine being opened, steam is admitted under the piston of
the indicator during the one stroke, and vacuum during
the other, precisely as in the large cylinders; thus causing
the little piston to push and pull alternately against the
spiral spring. If the pressure were uniform throughout the
stroke, the indicator-piston would start at once from top to
bottom, and vice versa, remaining stationary until acted
upon by the opposite pressure; but since the pressure
within the cylinder of a steam-engine is constantly varying
during every portion of the stroke, it follows that the pres¬
sure on the spiral spring of the indicator, and the corre¬
sponding movement of the indicator-piston, must be
variable too. If a pencil be fixed to the piston-rod of the
instrument, it will register the fluctuations of pressure upon
a piece of paper held close to it; but unless some provi¬
sion be made for allowing the pencil a clear space on the
paper at each successive instant of time, it will only move
up and down in the same vertical line, and the markings
due to fluctuation of pressure will be undistinguishable.
To obviate this, the paper receives a circular motion in one
direction during the down-stroke of the piston, and a re¬
versed circular motion during the return-stroke, the result
being that, as the pencil moves vertically up and down, a
continuous curved or sloping line is traced on the paper.
By this line an oblong space is inclosed, called the indi¬
cator-figure, card, or diagram, the vertical ordinates of
which will then represent the effective pressures at the cor¬
responding portions of the stroke, and their mean length
will therefore indicate the average pressure in the cylinder
during the whole period of the stroke.
To find the indicated horse-power, therefore, we must Indicated
take the area of the cylinder in square inches, multiply it a.nd
by the average pressure as found from the indicator-figure,
and again by the actual number of feet through which the P
piston is travelling per minute ; when the product, divided
by 33,000, is the indicator or gross horse-power of the
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- engine. This must not be confounded, however, with the
vigation. effective power of the engine, or that actually available for
Ov—/ the purpose for which the engine is used. To obtain this,
a considerable deduction (about 25 per cent., it is believed)
must be made for the friction of the moving parts, and for
the power required to work the valves, air-pump, feed and
bilge pump, &c.; but as this would be nearly alike for all
well-constructed engines of equal power, and no ready
means exist for testing it, the gross or indicated horse¬
power is taken as the measure of the power in all ordinary
cases.
645
An example of a set of indicator-diagrams (fig. 17) is sub- Steam Na-
joined, to show the manner in which they are usually worked vigation.
out; and it will be seen that, in this instance, a pair of engines 'wv—^
of 500 nominal horse-power were actually exerting an in- Proportion
dicated horse-power of more than 2000 horses, or four times of indicated
the nominal. This may be taken as the usual proportiont0 nominal
now existing between nominal and indicated horse-power horse‘
in modern engines by the best makers, while using steam ^°wer‘
of from 15 to 20 lb. pressure ; but the average performance
of existing engines is still very much below this, not ex¬
ceeding from 2 to 2‘5 times the nominal horse-power.
Ind. H.P.
Indicator-Diagrams taken from Screiv-engines of 500 horse-power, by Ravenhill, Salkeld, and Company.
(Steam in Boilers 20 lb.)
Top stroke  20-9 Bottom (23-3)
Diameter of cylinder 71 inches.
Length of stroke    3 feet.
Indicated pressure (mean of 6 experiments) 21-904 lb.
Mean number of revolutions per minute 63£.
3959-2014 x 381 x 21-904
Ind. h.p. of
both engines.
= 1001-248 H.P. x 2 = 2002-496.
Mean of forward engine 221 lb.
„ after engine  22-4 „
33,000
Speed of the vessel at a mean draught of 24 ft. 9£ in.... 10-897 knots
Tig. 17.
Mean of both engines  22| lb.
[The dynamometer is an instrument used to measure the force
actually expended in propelling the vessel; or, in other words, for
showing the effective horse-power of the engines. It is fitted occa¬
sionally on board of a screw-steamer, the thrust of the propeller
being transmitted through a series of levers to a Salter's spring-
balance ; but it is difficult to obtain true indications from this in¬
strument, which is liable to many disturbing influences. There is
a fixed dynamometer at some of H.M. dockyards, by means of
which the pull of any steamer, whether paddle or screw, may be
obtained in tons.]
The size of the boiler is obviously a very important ele¬
ment in determining the indicated horse-power of an engine,
inasmuch as the speed of the piston (or the number of revo¬
lutions per minute) depends mainly upon the supply of
. steam from the boiler. The power of an engine may thus
always be increased by adding to the size of the boiler, pro¬
vided the steam-passages are large enough to admit of the
increased flow of steam without its becoming throttled or
“ wire-drawn.” A large boiler, however, implies a large
consumption of coal as a necessary attendant upon any in¬
crease of power in the engines, or velocity in the ship; so
that in practice it is generally found inconvenient for sea¬
going steamers to urge their engines to the utmost duty of
which they are capable, as tending to limit the distance
which it is possible to run with a definite weight of coals.
Hence it follows, that while vessels making short runs
(such as the Holyhead packets) will show an indicated
horse-power of four, or even five times their nominal, a
transatlantic steamer cannot afford to do so, although her
engines may be equally efficient.
It will be understood, from what has been already said, Velocity of
that the speed at which marine engines are driven is very piston,
various, and also that it is liable to vary (even in the same
vessel) according to circumstances; such as the steaming
capacity of the boilers, the necessity for economizing fuel,
and the dimensions of the paddles or screw. Apart from
the proper or “ calculated” speed, there is of course the
additional consideration of the variable trim of the vessel,
and the undulations of the sea, which affect the speed of the
engines by throwing more or less work upon them, in pro¬
portion as the propelling agent is deeply or lightly im¬
mersed. The subjoined tables will convey some idea of the
velocity at which pistons are driven (under the most favour¬
able circumstances of trim) by some of the principal marine
engineers of the day :—-
646
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Speed of Pistons in Merchant-Steamers {Paddle and Screw).
Name of Vessel.
Great Eastern..
Delta 
Great Eastern..
Shannon  
Mersey  
Ceylon 
Colombo 
Atrato  
Pera  
Oneida 
Tamar 
Prince Consort,
Agamemnon 
Mohawk  
Esk  
Arrogant   
Princess-Royal  
Simoom  
Conflict 
Duke of Wellington
Highflyer  
Dauntless  
Fairy 
Sharpshooter  
Rifleman 
Rattler 
Makers of the Machinery.
Diameter
of
cylinder.
Watt 
Penn  
Scott Russell  
R. Napier  
Maudslay and Field
Humphry's   
R. Napier  
Caird    
Rennie 
Inglis 
Penn   
Scott Russell
Inches.
84
72
74
97
60
72
72
96
75
82
72
Length
of
stroke.
Steam Ha
vigation,
He volu¬
tions per
minute.
ft. in.
4 0
7 0
14 0
9 0
30
2 6
Revols.
50
25
12
18
30
50
26£
15
32
26
16*
45
Speed of
piston in
ft. per min.
Feet.
400
350
336
326
300
300
291-5
270
256
234
231
225
Speed of Pistons in Government Screw-Steamers.
Penn    
Humphrys  
Scott Russell 
Penn 
Maudslay and Field .
Watt  ,. 
Seaward  
R. Napier 
Maudslay and Field .
R. Napier  
Penn 
Miller and Ravenhill
Ravenhill  
Maudslay and Field .
70f
42J
50
55
64
43£
46i
94
55£
84
42
46
34
404
60
88
68
61
58
55
70
30
53
31
40
38
36
25§
420
381
374
366
348
330
280
270
265
248
240
228
198
204
How propelled.
Screw, direct.
Paddle, feathering floats.
Do. common.
Do.
Do.
Screw, direct.
Do. geared.
Paddle, feathering.
Screw, geared.
Do. do.
Paddle, feathering.
Do. do.
Trunk, direct.
Horizontal, direct.
Oscillating, direct.
Trunk, direct.
Horizontal, direct.
Oscillating, direct.
Horizontal, direct.
Horizontal, geared.
Horizontal, direct.
Horizontal, geared.
Oscillating, geared.
Horizontal, geared.
Oscillating, geared.
Double cylinder, geared.
All the merchant-steamers in this table have a speed of above 13 knots, and the government steamers of 10 knots.
Some of these speeds are nearly twice as great as would
be sanctioned by the table previously quoted as embodying
the practice of James Watt; and although, theoretically
speaking, there may be no objection to such high velocities,
they are inconvenient in practice, from the tendency of the
working parts to heat by the friction, from the rapid wear
of the parts, and their increased liability to accident or de¬
rangement.
Long and Although engineers are perfectly agreed as to the supe-
short rior advantages of a long stroke for their engines, it will be
stroke en- S8en by the preceding table how rarely in the case of screw-
gmes. engines this desirable object can be accomplished. The
cause of this is, that the pitch of the screw-propeller (by
which term is implied the linear advance made by the
screw during one complete revolution, supposing it to be
working in a solid), cannot be effectively increased beyond
a certain proportion, depending upon the diameter of the
screw; and as this is necessarily limited by the draught of
water, it follows that the only available means for au<>--
menting the linear advance of the screw is by increasing the
number of revolutions. For each revolution of the screw,
two journeys of the piston (in a direct engine) are required,
and to enable this to be done within the required time, the
strokes must be short. The chief disadvantages attendino- a
short stroke are the more frequent recurrence of the “ dead
points” of the crank (when the piston arrives at the top and
bottom of the cylinder), at which times much of the mo¬
mentum of the moving parts is destroyed; and the loss of
a certain quantity of steam contained within the cylinder
ports or passages at each stroke, which does not exert
a direct pressure on the piston. It is natural to suppose,
also, that short-stroke engines do not derive so much bene¬
fit from expanding in the cylinders as those having- longer
strokes. s 8
Another desideratum for all kinds of steam-engines is a
ong connecting-rod, as tending to diminish the angular
strain thrown upon the main crank, and thus avoid the loss Long and
of power arising from unnecessary friction. This action is short con-
necting-
Fig. 18.
made apparent by the accompanying sketch (fig. 18), in
which a b represents a long connecting-rod, and a b a short
one, their relative efficiency varying as the angles a, 6, c,
and a, b, c. The defects of a short connecting-rod be¬
come sensible in practice by greater liability of the bearings
to heat, by an increased wear of “brasses” and packings,
and a larger consumption of oil for lubricating.
The cylinder of a steam-engine is never allowed a full Cuttingoff
measure of steam from the boiler, this being shut off at some f116 steam
part of the stroke according to the power it may be desira- J? *he c^"
ble to exert. A certain quantity of steam, varying gene- 1D er’
rally from to of the contents of the cylinder, is always
excluded by the slide valve, which is made to close the
steam-port before the end of the stroke. In most engines
a further amount of steam is excluded by means of a sepa¬
rate valve, called the expansion-valve, which is so arranged
that it may “ cut off” the steam, or prevent a further supply,
at any desired point, according as it may be wished to econo¬
mize fuel, more or less, at the expense of velocity. Thus,
some engines are worked with f of a cylinder full of steam
to each stroke, some with and others with only £ ; 0r the
same engine may be worked successively at the different
“ grades of expansion ” corresponding to these quantities.
This is called “ working expansively,” because the portion
of steam thus shut in continues to expand in volume, and
to give out elastic force, to the end of the stroke.
I
STEAM NAVIGATION.
647
Steam Na¬
vigation.
\dvan-
ages of
ixpanding
team in
he cylin-
lers.
'xpansion
an be
a rely
lushed to
ts extreme
imits.
Advan¬
tage of a
iteam-
acket.
Advan¬
tage of
toper-heat
ng the
tteam.
Two advantages arise from cutting off the steam in this
way. Firstly, it allows the stroke to be completed under
a diminished pressure, so that the piston comes gently to
rest at the top and bottom of the cylinder, without impart¬
ing a destructive jar to the machinery; and, secondly, it is
economical of power (or, which is the same thing, of fuel),
since it is found that the force actually exerted upon the
piston by the isolated steam, during its expansion into
the increased volume as the piston descends in the cylin¬
der, is considerably greater than that due to the simple
pressure of the same weight of steam acting at a uniform
density.
It is found by calculation that when the steam is cut off
at ^ stroke, seven-tenths of the power already exerted in
the cylinder is added by the subsequent expansion of the
steam; when cut off at 2'1 times the power is added;
and when cut off at 2-4 times nearly. According to the
usually-received natural law regulating the pressure and
elasticity of steam, it is assumed that the pressure is in¬
versely proportional to the volume of the steam after it has
expanded into the increased bulk, or, in other words, that
when the steam has expanded to twice its original volume,
its pressure will be reduced one-half; when it has expanded
four times its volume, the pressure will be Jth, and so on.
The pumping-engines in Cornwall, which do their work so
very economically, use steam of about 40 lb.pressure, cutting
it off in the cylinder after -Jth or even -Jth part of the
stroke has been made, the remaining £ths being performed
wholly by expansion.
It is very seldom, however, and that only when special
means are provided for this purpose, that the principle of
expansion can be beneficially carried out in marine engines
to an extent nearly approaching that just mentioned. It
is a well known property of all gaseous fluids, steam of
course included, that any expansion of volume is neces¬
sarily accompanied with the loss of sensible heat, which is
taken up in the latent form by the expanded gas or vapour.
Hence, when the steam expands under ordinary circum¬
stances within the cylinder of a steam-engine, a portion of
it is compelled to part with its latent heat, to enable the
rest to retain the gaseous form. This portion of steam,
therefore, condenses into water of the same temperature,
which forms a thin film over the interior surface of the
cylinder. When the return stroke begins, and the watery
lining of the cylinder is brought into connection with the
condenser, it rapidly evaporates into steam of low tension.
This steam, besides vitiating the vacuum, acts still more
injuriously by robbing the cylinder of the heat which it
required for evaporation; when the metal of the cylinder,
being thus lowered in temperature, condenses the steam,
upon its re-admission, to a serious extent. Thus it happens
that the principle of expansion, when carried out to any
great extent in cylinders which are only “ clothed” in the
usual way, has so frequently failed to realize the expected
economy of fuel; and this has been most unjustly charged
to a defect in the principle of expansion.
In the case of the Cornish engines already mentioned,
where the steam is expanded to eight times its volume
with known advantage, the cylinder is invariably surrounded
with a “jacket” kept well supplied with dense hot steam
from the boiler, by which means it is retained at a high and
nearly uniform temperature during the entire stroke; and
to this steam-jacket it is mainly due that so remarkable an
economy attends the use of expansion in Cornwall. The
cylinders of a marine engine, on the other hand, are pro¬
tected from radiation by a clothing of felt and wood only ;
but in the few instances where a steam-jacket has been
applied, the most beneficial results have followed.
Another mode by which the expanded steam may be
protected from condensation in the cylinder is by previously
imparting to it an extra dose of heat beyond that due to its
pressure, or, in other words, by “superheating” it. It is Steam Na-
apparent that this extra heat becomes available for the vigation.
supply of the latent heat demanded by the expanding steam,
which is thus saved from premature condensation.
In order to derive the utmost benefit of which the prin- Conditions
ciple of expansion is capable, it is necessary that the initial under
pressure of steam should be considerable, that it should
have plenty of space to expand into, and that the cylinder ^ exp^,e.
should be maintained at a high temperature. These con- sionmaybe
ditions would seem to imply the use of a large jacketed obtained,
cylinder of sufficient strength to bear the high initial pres¬
sure. • As such a cylinder, however, would be very heavy
and cumbrous, the plan has been occasionally adopted of
using two cylinders, in which to utilize the steam, namely,
a large and a small one. In this case the high-pressed steam
from the boiler is admitted into the small cylinder only,
and after expanding in that to twice or three times its
volume (by which its pressure is reduced to one-half, or
one-third), it is then admitted from the small cylinder into
the large one, where the expansive process is Anally com¬
pleted under the most favourable circumstances.
This combination, called the combined-cylinder engine, has of Combined-
late been brought prominently forward by the engineering firm of cylinder
Randolph Elder and Co., of Glasgow. Plates XXXV. and XXXVI. engines,
represent the engines of the steamers Callao, Lima, and Bogota, made
on this principle, and which have attracted much notice by their
remarkable economy of fuel. Their principal dimensions will
be afterwards given with the description of the plates. They
were thus described by Mr Elder at the late meetings of the
British Association—“ These engines are constructed with the
view of getting the greatest amount of power from a given
quantity of steam at a given pressure, with less total weight of
engines, boilers, and water, and occupying less total space than is
found in the ordinary class of steam-engines on board of steam¬
ships. To accomplish these objects the following construction of
engine has been adopted :—The cylinder capacity is so great as to
admit of the steam being expanded to within 2 lb. of the pressure
in the condenser at the end of the stroke, while the engines are
working full power. In order to reduce the violent shock of steam
at 42 lb. pressure on such a large piston, a cylinder with a piston
one-third of the size is placed beside it. This small cylinder
receives the steam direct from the boiler during one-third of its
stroke, after which it is cut off. This steam is consequently re¬
duced to one-third of its original pressure, or to 14 lb., at the end
of the stroke, and it then enters the second or larger cylinder.
Here it is expanded three times more, or down to 4§ lb. Thus,
the steam at 42 lb. is expanded to 14 lb. in the first cylinder, at
which pressure it enters the second cylinder, and is further ex¬
panded down to 4| lb.; but as the second piston has three times
the area of the first, the load will be the same on both pistons, and
the piston-rods, cross-heads, and connecting-rods may be the dupli¬
cates of each other.” The steam is super-heated in the boilers to
about 400°, and the cylinders are steam-jacketed and clothed with
felt and wood. The feed-water is heated before entering the
boilers. It is stated that, although the engines worked with super¬
heated steam, this was found inadequate to prevent condensation
in the cylinders without the use of the steam-jackets in addition,
the indicator diagrams taken from these engines showing a marked
increase of power resulting from a free use of the steam-jackets,
the supply of steam to which may be modified at pleasure.
These vessels have all shown a minimum consumption of from 2 Economy
to 2J lb. of best Welsh coal per indicated horse-power per hour, of fuel in
their speed being at the same time 12^ to 13 knots, which must be Lima, Bo-
considered a very satisfactory result. Their consumption of coal gota, &c.
at their usual working trim is about 3 lb. per indicated horse¬
power, the vessel making 11 knots; whereas the more usual con¬
sumption of modern marine engines varies from 4 to 5 lb. per
indicated horse-power per hour, and the average consumption of
all classes cannot be less than 6 lb.
It is not contended, however, that the system of expanding in Two cylin-
two cylinders is essentially requisite towards the attainment of a (jei.s n0[
great economy in the consumption of fuel, and there are many considered
instances of single-cylinder engines in which the same beneficial requisite,
results have followed a like judicious combination of means and
appliances for this purpose. A case in point is supplied by the
recent performances of the steamship Thunder, a vessel fitted
with machinery of much the usual kind, by Messrs Dudgeon of
London. Although supplied with steam of only 14 lb. pressure,
her engines do not consume more than 2| lb. of coal per indicated
horse-power per hour, the vessel making 13 knots. Her machinery
648
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- Is represented by Plates XXXIII. and XXXIV., and will be found
vigation. fully described at page 668. An indicator-diagram from her en-
^ y ^ gines is here subjoined (fig. 19)-
Economy
of fuel in
steamer
Thunder.
Economy
of fuel in
Omeo.
Steam
Steam
.Atmosvihcric /
Line
LTacuum
Fig. 19.
-3d Nov. 1859.
fuel.
The boiler.
pensive of
fuel.
Smoke¬
burning
not econo¬
mical.
not managed with great caution, is apt to become very much the Steam Na-
reverse. The natural consequence of stirring the fire too much vigation.
Screw-steamer Thunder.
Forward Engine.— With super-heated steam and expansion.
Steam in boiler   13 lb.
Pyrometer on super-heater 350 deg.
Number of revolutions   50
Diameter of cylinder   55 inches.
Stroke   36 „
Indicated horse-power, each cylinder,
with expansion  = 348
It may be stated that a consumption of 2J lb. of coal per indicated
horse-power per hour would represent in Cornwall a “duty of
about 90,000,000 of pounds raised 1 foot high in an hour by a
bushel (or 94 lb.) of coal, which is considered economical working
even for a Cornish engine. The success achieved in the case of the
Thunder appears to be due to the conjunction of the following
good qualities in the machinery—viz., a perfect command of steam
in the boilers, the super-heating and expanding the steam in “ belted
or jacketed cylinders, and the allowance of an unusually large
inlet and outlet for the steam by the main valves.
Another example of unusual economy in the consumption of fuel
has been recently shown in the auxiliary screw-steamer Omeo,
fitted with engines of 100 nominal horse-power, by Messrs Morri¬
son of Newcastle. These engines use steam at 60 lb. pressure,
which is expanded to a large extent in single cylinders, and after¬
wards condensed in the usual way, the cylinders being surrounded
with steam-jackets. The engines work up to 426 indicated horse¬
power, while driving the ship at 9 knots, and burning only 2'4 lb.
of coal per indicated horse-power per hour. As the use of high
pressure steam necessarily implies a boiler of corresponding
strength, the Omeo’s boilers are cylindrical, with “ coned” furnaces
and upright “ coned flues,” fitted with a superheating chamber on the
top. The employment of steam of this high tension, however, is
not to be recommended for passenger-steamers.
Importance The question of economy of fuel is of vital importance even in
of the ques-a national point of view, as affecting the maintenance and ex-
tion of eco- tension of some of our great postal lines of ocean steamers, and it
nomy of is now receiving a large share of attention both from steamship
owners and engineers. The subject naturally divides itself into
two heads—the production of steam in the boiler, and its subse¬
quent employment in the engine.
1st, The Boiler.—It is a material point towards economical
working that the boiler should be large enough to ensure a con-
Eorcing the stant command of steam without the necessity for “ forcing ’ the fires,
fires is ex- or continually stirring them up. This acts prejudicially in more
ways than one. In the first place, each time that the fire-door is
opened the cold air rushes in through it, and mixing with the hot
gases in the furnace, checks their perfect combustion, at the same
time that it robs the interior of the boiler of much valuable heat.
Again, if the boiler be deficient in heating surface, the fires must
be kept thin, to promote rapid combustion ; and as these fires are
specially liable to “ burn into holes,” a quantity of cold air enters
the furnace through them, and the same cooling effect is produced
in the flues and passages. It may be also remarked that, however
desirable it may be to “ burn smoke” by admitting air into the
furnace above the bars, it is seldom an economical process, and if
is, that a large quantity of small coal and cinder falls through the
bars into the ash-pit, and as the boilers cannot supply the constant
demand for steam unless the fires are kept bright and active, these
cinders cannot be re-burned, probably, for fear of checking the
formation of steam. They are thrown overboard, therefore, with
the ashes, and a heavy expense is incurred.
It may be thought by some persons that stoking is a mere Stoking is
mechanical operation, easily acquired by the commonest labourer; not a mere
but this is a great and vital error, which generally costs steamship mechanical
owners many thousand pounds before they find it out. The stokers, operation,
in fact, may be wasting coals by the ton at the furnaces of the
boilers for want of proper supervision, while the engineer is
straining every nerve to save a few pounds weight by economizing
steam in the engines, and possibly congratulating himself, at the
same time, upon his able management. It is no unusual case for a
difference of 20 per cent, in the consumption of fuel to arise
simply from good or bad stoking, by which is meant the whole
management of the fires and the draught. The quality of the
coals is another important item in estimating the consumption per
horse-power, and some remarks on this subject will be made here¬
after. In large ships the mere labour of passing the coals along The com-
to the front of the fires is very severe, and some contrivance of fort of the
slides or rails to enable the buckets to be easily run down the stokers
firing stage is recommended. The stoker’s duty is, at the best, a should be
most irksome one, and it is found in practice that any contrivance consulted,
which adds to their comfort and convenience, whether it be by
reducing the heat of the stoke-place, supplying them with a tap of
cold distilled water, &c., is amply repaid by the increased attention
bestowed on the fires. A marked reduction in the heat of the
stoke-place in many of her Majesty’s ships has attended the use of
the double smoke-box doors, shown in the subjoined sketch (fig. 20),
oooooooo
Diameter of Tioles,lim .
VeaUiatiTLg Smoke box
Door.
Fig. 20.
which are kept cool by a current of air passing between the double
linings. It is very important, both as regards the coolness of the
stoke-place and the steaming power of the boilers, that the draught
of air to the fires should be encouraged as much as possible by
means of large hatches, wind-sails, and air-tubes. It is found
preferable, where rapid combustion is required, to allow two or
more funnels to the boilers, if by this means the draught may be
made more direct; for the question is not merely how to generate
steam with the least possible consumption of fuel, but how to do
this in the least possible time, and with a boiler of the least pos¬
sible weight and capacity. It is comparatively an easy matter to
evaporate water economically in a Cornish boiler, for instance,
but a very difficult and complex one under the conditions imposed
upon the marine engineer. The ordinary rate of combustion in
the furnaces of marine boilers is about 15 lb. of coal burned on each
square foot of grate-bar surface per hour; and the ratio existing
between the absorbent or “ heating surface” of the boiler and the
grate-bar surface varies from 15 to 25 of the former to 1 of
the latter. The furnace-bars are frequently made so thick as un¬
necessarily to impede the admission of air to the fires. They
should not exceed | of an inch for wrought-iron, or 1 inch for
cast-iron, on the upper edge, and should have an air-space of from
■j^ths to ^ inch between them, while burning Welsh coal.
The nature and arrangement of the heating surface in a boiler
is very material, the chief points to be considered being, that the
steam may have a ready escape from every part of the heated sur¬
face, that every portion of the interior of the boiler should be
accessible for “ scaling,” or removing the crust of insoluble matter,
which forms upon the plates and tubes, and that soot and ashes
should not collect in any of the flues or passages. A large and
high furnace is very desirable for facilitating the proper admix¬
ture of the combustible gases with the oxygen of the air. Brass
tubes are much preferable to iron for rapidity of evaporation, as
might be expected from their relative powers of conducting heat.
Some recent experiments have shown, that the evaporative power
of clean brass tubes is, to that of iron, as 125 :100; and copper
tubes as 150 :100, nearly.
Salt-water being necessarily used in the boilers of sea-going
steamers, this is liable to become more and more saturated with
Draught to
the fires.
Rapidity of
combus¬
tion.
Heating
surface.
Use of salt¬
water in
marine
boilers.
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Consti¬
tuents of
sea-water.
“ Blowing-
off.”
Surface
blow-off.
Proper
degree of
saturation
of water ii
boiler.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
649
salt and earthy impurities in proportion as the steam passes off to
the engines. A twofold evil thus arises. The super-salted water,
as it increases in density, demands more heat before it will part
with its steam; and the insoluble imgredients it contains (chiefly
the carbonates of lime and magnesia, and the sulphate of lime),
gaining strength with the abstraction of the steam, are deposited
inside the boiler, thus forming a non-conducting skin, which greatly
impairs its efficacy, and subjects the plates to risk of injury from
the fire. To remedy this, a certain portion of the water in the
boiler is “ blown off” into the sea, its place being supplied by the
feed-pumps with a corresponding portion of the hot-water, which
results from the condensation of the steam by a jet of sea-water.
As the temperature of the “ feed,” however, does not exceed 100°,
while that of the brine it replaces is probably about 230°, it is
evident that much heat is thus lost, more especially as a good deal
of steam is believed to escape with the water that is blown off.
According to Dr lire’s experiments, the largest proportion of salt
held in solution in the open sea is 38 parts in 1000 by weight, and
the smallest 32. In a specimen brought from the Red Sea, 43
parts were found, the specific gravity of the water being 1’035.
The Mediterranean contains about 38 parts in 1000, the British
Channel 35‘5, the Arctic Ocean 28,5, the Black Sea about 21, and
the Baltic only 6'6.
The same authority states, that deep sea-water from the ocean
(from whatever locality) holds nearly the same ingredients in solu¬
tion, containing, on an average, in 1000 parts—
25‘0 Chloride of sodium or common salt.
5-3 Sulphate of magnesia.
3-5 Chloride of magnesium.
0'2 Carbonates of lime and magnesia.
O'l Sulphate of lime.
34-1
Also a little sulphate and muriate of potash, iodide of sodium, and
bromide of magnesium.
It is now the usual practice to “blow-off” the requisite quantity
of brine continuously, in the proper proportion to the amount of
feed admitted, so as to keep the water in the boiler at a certain
regular degree of saturation, at which it is found by experience
that little or no deposition of “ scale” will take place. Till within
the last few years, boilers were always blown-off from the bottom
only, it being not unnaturally supposed that the heaviest and most
saturated water would be found there; but experience has now
proved that the greater portion of the impurities from which the
scale is formed are to be found on the surface of the water of the
boiler (being carried upwards by the steam), and should be ab¬
stracted from thence. Mr Lamb, the superintending engineer of
the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, was the
first to introduce “ surface blow-off,” which is now very generally
used in addition to blowing-off from the bottom, and is attended with
a considerable improvement in the condition of the boiler-surfaces.
The rule adopted by this company is, that the feed and blow-off
shall be so regulated, the one to the other, that the water in the
boiler may be always at the degree of saturation marked 17 on
the scale of their hydrometer, which represents a saturation of be¬
tween and 345 parts of salt.
The following table shows the boiling point and specific gravity
of sea-water (at 60° Pahr.) of different degrees of saturation, ex¬
pressed in parts of salt contained therein, the barometer indicating
30 inches of mercury :—
Saltness. Boils. Sp. gr.
Pure water 
Common sea-water 
Up to this point but
little deposit will be
formed —r
0 212° 1-
31, 213-20 1-029
214- 4° 1-058
215- 5° 1-087
^ 216-7° 1-116
& 217-9° 1*145
& 219-1° 1-174
fa 220-3° 1-203
fa 221-5° 1-232
fa 222-7° 1-261
223-8° 1-290
fa 225-0° 1-319
if 226-1° 1-348
saturated solution.
As a general rule, the atmospheric boiling point of the water
should never be allowed to exceed 216°, when the barometer stands
at 30 inches. The temperature must be ascertained by drawing off
a small quantity of the brine, and boiling it in a deep copper vessel
in the engine-room, a correction being made, as nearly as possible,
for the state of the barometer.
VOL. XX
The following table shows the height of the boiling point of Steam Na-
pure water at different heights of the barometer ;— vigation.
Barometer.
Inches.
27
27£
28
28*
29
Boiling Point.
206- 96°
207- 84°
208- 69°
209- 55°
210- 38°
Barometer.
Inches.
29*
30
30*
31
Boiling Point.
211-20°
212°
212- 79°
213- 57°
In testing brine by the hydrometer, care must be taken that it
has the particular temperature for which the hydrometer scale was
calculated. This is usually 200° Fahr. About 3° of temperature
make a difference of -0001 of the specific gravity, or -036 of the
usual hydrometer degree, or -0036 of the density of sea-water. The
steam raised from salt-water and fresh is precisely the same in
every respect; but it has been found by experiment that water of
the density which it usually acquires in marine boilers, demands
about one-tenth more of heat to convert it into steam than if it
were fresh-water, its “capacity for heat” being greater to this
extent. It is needless to say, that salt itself will not be deposited
until the brine arrives at its point of greatest saturation, or three
times the density which the water should ever be allowed to ac¬
quire ; but what the engineer has to guard against is, the deposi¬
tion of a solid stone-like incrustation, composed of the sulphate and
carbonate of lime, and the carbonate of magnesia. These are at
first held in solution by the water, but are subsequently rendered
insoluble, and become deposited on the plates and tubes of the boiler,
partly from the free carbonic acid being expelled by the boiling of
the water, and partly by its continued saturation.
Many, though hitherto unsuccessful, attempts have been made to Surface
obviate the necessity for this expensive process of blowing off. condensa-
The only effectual remedy is the employment of fresh water in tion.
place of salt in the boilers; but this can only be accomplished by
the adoption of “ surface condensation.” By this term is under¬
stood the condensation of the steam by contact with a large extent
of cold metallic surface, instead of the usual method of condensing
by a jet of sea-water. This principle, though repeatedly tried,
has hitherto proved more or less inefficient, and the invention of
an effective method of surface condensation is still a problem in
marine engineering. It is believed that an economy of about
15 per cent, in consumption of fuel would result from the use of
fresh-water in the boilers of marine engines, with a longer dura¬
tion of the boiler, and the saving of much valuable time consumed
in cleaning. The average duration of boilers using salt-water does
not exceed six years, while those using fresh-water last eight or
nine; but the life of a boiler is very uncertain, depending so much
on the care and attention bestowed upon it.
The process of “ scaling” a boiler, or removing the deposit from Process of
the internal surfaces, is a very tedious and troublesome one, the “ scaling.”
scale being detached by hammers and chisels, after being loosened
as much as possible by lighting fires in the furnaces of the empty
boiler. In some recent experiments on this subject made at Ports¬
mouth by Mr Lindsay, the boiler was filled with hot air at a tem¬
perature of 400°, which acted most successfully in detaching the
scale by the rapid expansion induced. The boiler was afterwards
filled for service, and so soon as a pressure of steam was obtained,
the bottom blow-off cocks were opened, and most of the scale pre¬
viously detached was “ blown off” into the sea.
Almost all boilers are now fitted with an auxiliary or “ donkey” Donkey-
engine, for the purpose of keeping up the requisite supply of feed, engine,
while the regular feed-pumps attached to the large engines are not
working. The “ donkey” is also made useful for pumping water
either from the sea or the bilge, and is an invaluable aid in case of
fire.
In many steamers the feed-water is heated to a point consider- Feed-water
ably above the temperature of the condenser, by means of the waste heaters,
heat of the boiler itself; being brought into contact either with the
brine which is blown off, or with the hot air at the foot of the
chimney. By this means its temperature may be raised from about
100° to 180° or 200°; and as modern practice shows the advantage
of freshening the boiler by a plentiful admission of feed, it is very
desirable that its temperature should be thus previously raised.
Various modes of effecting this will be found mentioned in the
descriptions to the plates accompanying this article. The feed-
water heater of the Great Eastern has acquired an unfortunate no¬
toriety from the sad consequences attending its explosion, though
there is no inherent danger in the arrangement there adopted,
which has been safely and successfully applied in many other
vessels.
When the ebullition inside a boiler is so rapid and violent that “Priming.”
the water rises with the steam in considerable quantity, and is
carried over with it to the engines, or is blown up the waste steam-
pipe, the boiler is then said to “ prime.” This is one of the most
4 N
650
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Causes of
priming.
« Wet”
steam.
Superheat¬
ing appara¬
tus.
dangerous and troublesome propensities to which a boiler can be
subject, as it may occasion a break-down in the engines by the
shock of the piston upon the incompressible fluid (if escape-valves
of sufficient capacity are not fitted), and in all cases it entails a
great loss of heat carried off by the hot-water which boils over.
Priming may arise from a variety of causes, but the prevalent one,
more especially in the government service, is a too contracted
steam space over the water of the boiler. For where the reservoir
of steam from which the engines are supplied is very small, there
must be constant pulsations of pressure in the boiler; and each
time that the surface of the boiling water is relieved of a certain
amount of pressure by the rapid withdrawal of a cylinder full of
steam, it boils up with great violence, and possibly overflows into
the steam -pipe. The only remedy for this is an addition to the
size of the steam-chest, and an increased height above the surface
of the water to the steam-pipe orifice. Priming, however, is fre¬
quently the result of accidental causes, apart from the construction
of the boiler. Water charged with mud or mucilage, which forms
a viscid scum on the surface, is sure to induce it; also while the
ship is passing from fresh-water into salt, and vice versd. A new
boiler with clean “ raw” surfaces, is more liable to prime than
after it has contracted a coating of scale, in consequence of the
brisker ebullition going on, as well as from the dirt and grease left
in a new boiler by the workmen. It is a usual practice to put tal¬
low in a boiler as a preventive of priming, but this is not always
attended with the desired effect. When the boiler primes very
much, it is necessary to slow the fires, so as to prevent the too rapid
formation of steam.
All boilers are subject to the loss of a certain quantity of water,
which rises with the steam in the shape of fine spray, and passes
over with it into the cylinders of the engines. When much of this
is present, the steam is said to be “ wet;” but it is believed that
all steam raised in the ordinary way is more or less charged with
water in a state of fine subdivision. To evaporate and utilize this
water is one of the principal incentives to the use of surcharged or
“ superheated ” steam. The other advantage arising from its use,
namely, the prevention of condensation in the cylinders, has been
already referred to while treating of expansive working.
The steam in the boiler may be superheated in a variety of ways,
but those methods seem preferable which use for this purpose the spare
heat at the bottom of the chimney, which would otherwise be almost
entirely lost. Theaccompanying sketch (fig. 21) explains the method
ELEVATION
Fig. 21.
Lamb and Summers’ Superheating Apparatus.
which has been already largely employed in the steamships of the
eninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, those of the
mon Steam Packet Company (carrying the Cape mails), and many
others at Southampton, and which has been attended with the most Steam Na-
undoubted success. It will be observed, that the steam in its way vigation.
from the boilers to the engines passes through the superheating
chest A, at the foot of the chimney, the steam occupying the nar¬
row spaces between the sheet-flues through which the smoke and
hot air pass.
BB are stop-valves for admitting the steam to the apparatus, or
excluding it if necessary.
CCC are stop-valves for passing the steam direct from the boilers
to the engines without going through the apparatus.
DD are stop-valves for admitting the superheated steam to the
engines, or shutting it off when common steam only is used.
EE is a square casing enclosing the apparatus, and forming the foot
of the chimney, the smoke and hot air of which entirely surround
the superheating chest. Other casings of thin iron are fitted out¬
side this to prevent the radiation of heat.
F is a door for getting into the chimney, and examining the
flues of the apparatus.
The chimney is not rigidly fastened to the square casing, but
ships over the projecting part HH, the space between being filled
with clay. This mode of carrying the chimney is adopted, so that,
in the event of collision, the loss of the chimney should not entail
the destruction of the apparatus and its connexions.
It is found, from experience, that a heating surface of about 4
square feet per nominal horse-power of boiler is required to super¬
heat the steam under ordinary circumstances. The temperature of
the steam, when issuing from this apparatus, is generally found to
be about 320° to 360° ; and in the slide-jacket, from 20° to 30° less,
according to the length of the steam-pipe.
The saving of fuel in the steamships of the Peninsular and Ori¬
ental Company, by the use of this apparatus, is stated to vary from
20 to 33 per cent., without any injurious effects resulting to the pis¬
ton-packings, &c. By this simple and inexpensive process the whole A high
steam given off by the boiler is “ superheated ” from the temperature tempera-
due to its pressure (which for steam of 15 pounds pressure would be ture not
250°) to a temperature of from 350° to 380°, which has been proved required,
to be amply sufficient for obtaining all the benefit derivable from
the process. That much of the heat of superheated steam is really
employed in evaporating the particles of water held in suspension
seems to be proved by this fact, that its temperature will fall as
much as 40 or 50 degrees, in some cases, during its passage from
the boiler to the engine, though there is no perceptible escape of
heat by radiation from the surface of the well-protected steam-pipe.
The heat thus apparently lost is undoubtedly taken up (in the
latent form) by the steam resulting from the vaporization of these
watery particles, by which means the heat already contained in the
water is turned to good account, and the evaporative power of the
boiler is virtually increased.
A great many experiments have been made to test the actual Economy
economy of the process by comparison with the existing consump- of the pro-
tion of coal before the superheating apparatus was fitted, and in cess,
every instance there has been a perceptible improvement. This
sometimes takes the shape of increased speed in the engines and
vessel, sometimes a saving of fuel alone is effected, and in other
instances both of these are combined-in the same vessel in variable
proportions. Where the speed of the vessel has been kept a con¬
stant quantity, there would appear to be an actual saving of from
15 to 25 per cent, of fuel, according to the nature and qualities of
the boiler to which the process has been applied, and the amount of
expansion in the cylinders. The high rates of economy are natu¬
rally shown by those boilers which were previously the worst to
keep steam with, and which required very hard firing to do so.
Those addicted to priming and wet steam rank next in apparent
economy, while those boilers which show the least were originally
the best specimens of their class. There is no question, however,
but that the process is beneficial in all cases, though not equally so,
and enables the steam to be raised in the boilers without “ hard
firing” being resorted to, being in this respect a great boon to the
stokers.
It is believed that not the slightest advantage over the ordinary Wethered’s
methods of superheating the steam is due to Mr Wethered’s system mixed su-
of mixing superheated and ordinary steam together at the point perheated
where they enter the valve-jacket. To this gentleman’s patent, steam,
however, we owe, in a great measure, the general awakening of
marine engineers to the undoubted advantages of the process, which Conserva-
have been till now so unaccountably overlooked. The plan adopted tism in
by the government of contracting for their steam machinery with marine
only a few favoured and old-established houses, has undoubtedly engines,
tended to promote conservatism in marine engines, and to repress
innovations and improvements, the wholesome though often unpa¬
latable principle of competition being, in their case, scarcely roused
into action. These lordly manufacturers have nothing to gain, in
fact, by breaking new ground, being well assured of their accus¬
tomed orders from the Admiralty, and not caring to raise the qnes-
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Marine
boilers.
The tubular
boiler.
Vertical-
tube boiler.
Sheet-flue
boiler.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
651
tion whether their beautifully constructed machinery might not
possibly be made to content itself with 60 tons of coal per diem in
place of 80. In the case of those manufacturers, however, who
have not the entrSe at Whitehall, but who are dependent upon the
custom of the great steam shipping companies, and other private
owners of steam-vessels, who are fully alive to their own interests,
there exists an active competition, and consequently a strong induce¬
ment to improve upon the economical performance of their machinery.
We find, accordingly, that it is this class who have taken the lead in
the recent steam reformation which has now fairly set in.
There are three principal kinds of marine boilers in use
in this country, namely, the rectangular-flue boiler (which
is now very generally discarded); the multitubular boiler,
or, as it is more usually called, the tubular boiler ; and the
sheet-flue boiler. The tubular boiler (as shown in Plates
XXXIII. and XXXIV.) is that in most general use. This
construction enables a very large quantity of heating surface
to be crowded into comparatively small space ; while the
form of the tubes, which vary from 2^ to 4 in. in diameter,
affords great strength, at the same time that the thinness of
the metal composing them offers little impediment to the
conduction of heat. They are attended with this inconve¬
nience, however, that the flame arising from the combus¬
tion of the inflammable gases in the furnace is prematurely
extinguished by the minute subdivision and rapid reduction
of temperature to which it is exposed in passing through
these small tubes.
It is well known that flame requires a very high tempe¬
rature for its maintenance, and is easily extinguished by
contact with a comparatively cool surface; as for instance,
in passing through the wire-gauze of the miner’s safety-
lamp. A precisely similar effect is produced by the boiler-
tubes, whose temperature, from their being surrounded
with water, must be considered low when compared with
that of the flame and hot gases passing through them.
The Americans have adopted a different form of tubular
boiler (as shown in the accompanying wood-cut, fig. 22),
Eig. 22.
American upright-tube Boiler.
in which the tubes are disposed vertically, the smoke and
flame passing round the outside of the tubes, and the water
being contained inside. These vertical-tube boilers are very
effective in generating steam, and partly for this reason,
that the flame reaches further amongst their tubes than in
the case of a horizontal boiler, in consequence of the greater
space outside the tubes in which the flame may develop it¬
self. The importance of this, while using the bituminous
flaming coal of the northern coal-fields, is very great. The
absorbent surface of the vertical-tube boilers is, of course,
greater than that of the horizontal in proportion as the ex¬
ternal diameter of the tubes exceeds their internal diame¬
ter, and the weight of water it is necessary to carry is
much less.
Sheet-flue boilers are constructed with numerous flat,
narrow water-spaces, alternating with flues of the same
form in place of tubes. The width of the water-spaces in steam Na-
“ Lamb and Summers’ patent sheet-flue boilers” varies vigation.
from 1^- to 2 inches, and the flues from to 3 inches.
They are extensively used in the steamers of the Penin¬
sular and Oriental Company, where they give much satis¬
faction from their durability, and economy in repairs.
When a marine boiler explodes, the presumption is, either Explosions
that the safety-valve has not acted properly, or has been
over-weighted, and the boiler has burst simply from excess ause8,
of pressure; or that the water has been allowed to fall too
low, and thus expose the tops of the flues or furnaces, or
the boiler-tubes, which, getting red-hot by the action of the
flame, have suddenly generated such a rush of steam, upon
the re-admission of the feed, as to cause a rupture of the
weakened plates. Explosions most frequently happen at
the moment of opening or shutting a safety-valve or com¬
munication-valve, which shows that so long as the steam
remains undisturbed within the boiler, it will sustain a very
high pressure without bursting; but should a wave or pul¬
sation be carried through it, the equilibrium is instantly
destroyed, and a rupture takes place. The very act of
suddenly opening a safety-valve, or a communication-valve
to the engines, would cause the water to boil up with great
violence, and an immense volume of steam to be instantly
liberated, in consequence of the water being relieved from
a certain amount of pressure. In the event, therefore, ot Precau-
the discovery being made that any portion of the boiler has tlon8> &c*
become overheated from want of water, the engineer should
neither open the safety-valve nor admit the feed, but throw
open the fire-doors, close the dampers, and draw the fires,
after which the safety-valves may be cautiously relieved,
and the feed gradually admitted, until the overheated sur¬
faces are covered with water.
In those parts of the boiler where the heat is most in¬
tense (as at the backs of the furnaces) the plates will gra¬
dually become oxidated and weakened by the fire, even
although kept constantly in contact with water. This is
probably owing to the rapid disengagement of steam from
the surface, which interposes a non-conducting film of steam
between the iron and the water, and thus permits the
former to get overheated. Thick plates, or overlapped
joints, in such a position, “burn out” quicker than thin
ones, from the imperfect conduction of the heat through
the metal, and tins is of course much aggravated when the
plates are coated with scale. Plenty of steam room is a
safeguard to a boiler, as tending to diffuse and neutralize
any dangerous oscillation or sudden accession of steam.
The immense rush of steam which always follows an ex¬
plosion is satisfactorily explained, when we consider that the
instant the water contained in the boiler is relieved of pres¬
sure it throws off steam with great rapidity, and continues
to do so until the whole mass of the water is reduced to
the atmospheric condition of 212 Fahr. To make matters
worse, the steam-chests of all the boilers are usually in com¬
munication.
It is oratifying to find that while explosions in Arne- Rarity of
rica are °so frequent, they rarely occur on board of steam explosions
vessels in this country—a result which is doubtless to be insteamer8-
attributed, in a great measure, to the supervision of the
Board of Trade. It is worthy of remark, also, that the
majority of such accidents have happened to tug-boats,
which, from not carrying passengers, are exempt from
government interference; and it will be remembered that
the Great Eastern, when her feed-water heater exploded
with such fatal consequences, had not yet received a certi¬
ficate of sea-worthiness. By the Merchant Shipping Act Require-
of 1854 the Board of Trade are empowered to enforce cer- menr? of
tain provisions of equipment of the vessel and her machinery, ^®nt grh‘ip.
supposed to conduce to the safety of the passengers and ping Actl
ship. The principal points to which attention is directed
by this act are, that the masters and mates of steamers shall
652
STEAM NAVIGATION.
steam Na- have proper certificates of competency; that the hull and
vigation. machinery generally shall be of sufficient strength ; that the
number of passengers carried shall be limited by the accom¬
modation ; that a sufficient number of boats be carried ; that
proper water-tight bulkheads be fitted, as well as pumps,
fire-pumps and hose, life-buoys, lights, compasses, &c., &c.
Each boiler is required to have one safety-valve, and recom¬
mended for further security to have two, the weights upon
which have been sanctioned by the Board through their
surveyor. One of these valves (called the government
safety-valve) is left locked beyond the control of the en¬
gineer of the boat, the key being placed under the master’s
charge. Every passenger-steamer is required by this act
to renew her certificate of efficiency or sea-worthiness twice
a-year, after periodical surveys have been held upon her
hull and machinery; and if such certificate is not granted,
she is debarred from carrying passengers until the required
provisions are complied with.
It will now be desirable to convey some practical infor¬
Qualities
of coal.
mation regarding the coals used in steam-vessels. The Steam Na-
qualities it is most desirable for steam-coals to possess may vigation.
be summed up as follows:—1. They should have a high
evaporative power, or, in other words, they should be
capable of converting much water into steam with a small
consumption of fuel. 2. They should not be highly bitu¬
minous, as such coals produce a dense black smoke which
it is difficult to consume in the furnace, and the soot and
tarry matter evolved are found to clog the tubes and flues,
and detract from the evaporative power of the boiler. 3.
The coal should light quickly, and be capable of a rapid
combustion. 4. It should be sufficiently cohesive in its
nature to bear the constant attrition it is subjected to with¬
out becoming broken into small fragments. 5. It should
combine a considerable density with such a mechanical
structure as may admit of its being stowed in the smallest
possible space, this involving a difference of 20 per cent.
6. It should be as free as possible from sulphur, which
induces progressive decay and spontaneous combustion.
Table, showing an Abstract of the Principal Results obtained from the Best Coals of the United Kingdom,
collated from the Admiralty Reports on Coals suited to the Steam Navy.
Name of Fuel.
Graigola 
Anthracite (James and Awbrey) 
Pentrefelin  
DufFryn 
Oldcastle Fiery Vein 
Ward’s Fiery Vein  
Binea  
Llangennech  
Pentrepoth 
Mynydd Newydd 
Three-quarter Rock Vein 
Cwm Frood Rock Vein  
Cwm Nanty-gros 
Resolven   
Pontypool 
Bedwas 
Ebbw Vale 
Porth-Mawr 
Coleshill 
Neath Abbey 
Llynvi 
Rock Vawr  
Aberdare Company’s Merthyr 
Thomas’s Merthyr 
Nixon’s Merthyr 
Hill’s Plymouth Works 
Slievardagh (Irish Anthracite) 
Dalkeith Jewel Seam 
Wallsend Elgin 
Grangemouth 
Eglinton 
Newcastle Hartley 
Carr’s Hartley 
North Percy Hartley 
Hasting’s Hartley 
Hedley’s Hartley 
Original Hartley 
Derwentwater’s Hartley 
Gadley Four-feet Seam  
Haswell’s Coal Company’s Steamboat...
Davison’s West Hartley 
Cowpen and Sydney Hartley 
Balcarres Lindsay Mine 
„ Haigh Yard 
Johnson and Wirthington’s Sir John...
Wylam’s Patent Fuel  
^H’s „   
Warlich’s „ „    
Lyon’s „ „  
Watney’s Anthracite 
Evaporative
power or
No. of lbs. of
Water con¬
verted into
Steam by
1 lb. of Coal.
9-35
9-46
6- 36
10-14
8- 94
9- 40
9-94
8-86
872
9-52
8-84
8-70
8- 42
9- 53
7- 47
9-79
10-21
7- 53
8- 00
9-38
919
7-68
9-73
10-16
9-96
9-75
9-85
7- 08
8- 46
7-40
7- 37
8- 23
771
7-57
7- 77
8- 16
6-82
7-42
9- 29
7-48
7-61
679
7-44
7- 90
6-32
8- 92
8- 53
10- 36
9- 58
11- 08
Weight of
cubic foot
in lbs.
60- 17
58-25
66- 17
53-22
50-92
57-43
57-08
56- 93
57- 72
56-33
56-39
55- 28
56- 00
58- 66
55-70
50- 50
53-30
53-30
5300
59- 30
53-30
55-00
49-30
53- 00
51- 70
51- 20
62 80
49- 8
54- 6
54-25
52- 0
50- 5
47- 8
49- 1
48- 5
520
49 1
50- 4
51- 6
49- 5
47-7
47-9
511
50- 8
51- 6
65-08
65-3
69-05
61- 10
67- 0
Space
occupied by
1 ton in
cubic feet.
37- 23
3845
33- 85
4209
43- 99
39-0
39-24
39- 34
38- 80
3976
39- 72
40- 52
4000
3819
40- 22
44- 32
42-26
42-02
42-26
37-77
42-02
40- 72
45- 43
42- 26
43- 32
43- 74
35- 66
44- 98
41- 02
40-13
43- 07
44- 35
46- 86
45- 62
46- 18
43- 07
45- 62
44- 44
43-41
45- 25
46- 96
46- 76
43- 83
44- 13
43-41
34- 41
34-30
32- 44
36- 66
33- 43
Cohesive
Power per¬
centage of
large Coals.
49- 3
68-5
52- 7
56- 2
577
46-5
51-2
53- 5
46-5
537
527
72-5
55-7
35-0
57- 50
54- 00
45-00
62-00
62-00
50- 00
65-5
74-5
57-5
64-5
64-0
74- 0
85-7
64-0
697
79- 5
78- 5
77-5
60-0
75- 5
85-5
80- 0
63-5
68-5
79- 5
76- 5
74-0
70-0
80- 0
82-0
87-5
Evaporative
Power after
deducting for
Combustible
Matter in
residua.
9-66
9-7
7- 4
11-8
10-6
10-3
9-2
8- 98
10-59
9- 35
8-82
10-44
8- 04
9- 99
10-64
7- 75
8- 34
9- 65
9-58
7-88
10-27
1072
10-70
10-18
10-49
7- 10
8- 67
7-91
7- 48
8- 65
8-13
7-72
7-96
871
6- 98
7- 66
10- 73
7-85
7-83
7-02
7- 58
8- 23
6-62
974
8-65
10-60
977
11- 40
Evaporative
Power per
Hour per
Square Foot
of Grate
surface.
40 6
698
71-0
87-8
61-5
79- 6
88- 3
71-3
71-4
55-0
90-5
90- 5
77-3
75-7
116-0
89- 0
91- 0
92- 4
111-8
102-6
119-8
84-5
63-0
910
71- 4
90- 0
620
84-6
94-0
104-0
74-8
106-5
95 0
96-5
61-0
96-5
84-0
93- 5
790
80- 5
72- 4
91- 5
96-5
93-0
127-4
Lbs. of
Clinker
per ton.
30-6
0
22- 7
0
0
54-5
0
68-6
80-2
59-1
42-8
40-8
23- 7
0
20-9
25- 2
9-3
27- 0
39-5
19-2
36-0
38-0
9-8
3-9
5-7
7- 5
18-0
62-2
14-6
16- 4
8- 2
17- 0
5 0
7-8
1- 7
14-4
10-1
28- 3
11-6
9-8
2- 1
3-7
22-3
26- 4
34-4
61-6
76-1
29- 7
38-7
24- 6
Admiralty
experi¬
ments on
coals for
the Royal
Navy.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
653
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Average
properties
of coal.
Properties.
Average of
Seventeen Samples Six Samples
of Welsh.
Theoretical evaporative power 15'785
Specific gravity    1-325
Coke 86-87
Moisture  0-88
Frangibility, large  79 2
,, small 20-8
of Newcastle,
lb.
14- 208
1-259
66-1
5-07
85-0
15- 0
Average Chemical Analysis of \00 parts of Dried Coal.
Ash  2-24 4-32
Carbon 89-13 78 45
Hydrogen  4-23 5-11
Nitrogen  1-27 1-79
Sulphur   1-01 1-36
Oxygen    2-12 8 97
In the foregoing tables the “ theoretical evaporative
power” is deduced from the composition of each coal as
determined by chemical analysis. It gives the maximum
amount of heat which each coal could produce, calculated
in terms of the number of pounds of water at 212°, which
would be converted into steam at 212° by the complete
combustion of 1 lb. of each variety of coal.
Evapora- 1 pound of pure carbon (according to the most accurate experi-
tive power ments) emits, by its combustion, an amount of heat sufficient to
of coal. evaporate 14-88 lb. of water at 212° into steam at 212°; and 1 lb.
of hydrogen, when burned, emits heat enough to convert 63-56 lb.
water at 212° into steam of the same temperature. It is found
experimentally, that the quantity of water capable of being eva¬
porated by any coal is (as nearly as possible) directly as the quan¬
tity of coke which can be produced from that coal; the fact being,
that in the case of bituminous coals, as burned in an ordinary fur¬
nace, as much heat is required for liberating the volatile products
of the coal as is afterwards produced by the combustion of these
volatile products, taking into account the cooling effect of the air
Anthracite, admitted to maintain their combustion. Hence the very high eva¬
porative power of anthracite coal, which, unfortunately, has certain
countervailing disadvantages, that preclude its use in the boilers
of a steam-vessel under ordinary circumstances. It is not only
very difficult to light, but when lighted can be maintained inactive
combustion only by the aid of artificial draught, when the heat
evolved is so intense as rapidly to destroy the fire-
Welsh coal, bars, as well as the material of the boiler itself.
Welsh coal, which holds an intermediate rank as to
its evaporative power between anthracite and the
bituminous coals of the northern district, is con¬
sidered the most suitable for steamers in general,
and is much more easily stoked than bituminous
coal.
Treatment As Newcastle and other bituminous coals de-
of bitumi- mand careful and peculiar treatment in the fur-
nous coals, nace, it may not be out of place here to give some
directions for stoking it. The fires should be kept
at a uniform thickness of from 12 to 14 inches.
When the furnaces of one boiler are being charged,
the fresh coal should be thrown upon the right-
hand half of each fire in succession for one charge,
and then upon the left-hand half of each fire during
the next charge, and so on alternately, so that the
whole fire may never be covered with “green”
coals at once. The green coal is to be thrown upon
the front half of the fire only, and never at the
back of the fire, but when necessary the red burning fuel must be
pushed back by the shovel, to keep up the proper thickness of the
fires at the bridge. Where no means are provided for admitting
air through the fire-doors, these must be left slightly open, after
charging with fresh coal. By a due observance of the three last
directions, the formation of black smoke with north country coal may
be prevented. The cinders, as they fall through the spaces between
the fire-bars, are to be raked forward in the ash-pits, and at every
fresh charge a portion of them is to be thrown upon the fires after
the green coal, so that nothing is removed from the stoke-hole but
clinkers and ashes. The spaces between the fire-bars are at all
times to be kept clear of clinkers and ashes, so that the air may
have free access to the burning fuel. When the coals cake on the
bars, the poker must be gently used to raise and open them for
the admission of air to the mass of the burning fuel.
Patent Some of the “ patent fuels” have a very high evaporative power,
fuels. but they are all, more or less, difficult to manage in the furnace,
and should never be used where the stokers are unaccustomed to
their peculiarities. They are very valuable in special cases, from Steam Na-
the compactness with which they may be stowed. vigation.
We shall now advert to a few particulars having refer-
ence to the general construction and management of the Marine
Engines of steam-vessels. The first valve through which engines*
the steam passes after leaving the boiler is the throttle-
valve, by means of which the flow of steam to the engines
is regulated or shut off entirely by hand. In the event of
a ship pitching very much in a heavy sea, it is often neces¬
sary to station a man at the throttle-valve to shut off the
steam from the engine whenever it begins to “ race,” or fly
off at a high velocity, according as the resistance is removed
by the propeller becoming raised out of the water. Both
paddle and screw engines are subject to this dangerous
action, but particularly the latter, on account of the screw
being, from its position in the ship, more exposed to sudden
variations of “ dip” or immersion. To mitigate this (in
some measure), the contrivance called a “ governor” has Marine
been successfully applied in many cases of screw-steamers, governor,
whose consumption of fuel in bad weather has been thereby
much diminished, as well as the working of the machinery
rendered more regular. Indeed, the commander of a screw-
steamer has often found it practicable, after this little in¬
strument had been fitted to his machinery, to keep his
vessel head to wind in such weather as would have formerly
necessitated his laying to.
The annexed figure (23) represents the best, and indeed Descrip-
almost the only, species of marine governor that has yet t‘.on
been applied. It is called “ Silver’s momentum-wheel Sllyer 3
governor,” constructed by Messrs J. Hamilton and Com- s°vernor*
pany of Glasgow, who have purchased the patent. “It
consists of a momentum-wheel A, fixed on the boss of a
pinion B, which works loosely on the spindle C, and gears
into the two-toothed sectors DD. These two sectors, being
supported on a crosshead E, made fast to and carried with the
spindle C, work in opposite directions on the pinion B ; and
as they are linked by the rods FF to the sliding collar G,
which receives and works the forked lever H, communi¬
Fig. 23.
Silver’s Marine Engine Governor,
cate motion to the throttle-valve T. MM are vanes, and
N is a spiral spring, both of which are adjustable.”
“ The action of the above instrument is as follows:—
When the spindle of the governor is turned by the engine
to which it is attached, the two toothed sectors, which are
carried on the fixed crosshead, being geared into the pinion
on the momentum-wheel, have the tendency to turn round
on this pinion; but as they are linked to the sliding collar,
they necessarily pull inwards this collar, and so compress
the spiral spring, and this spring reacting on the collar, and
consequently on the toothed sectors, serves to turn round
the momentum-wheel, while the vanes on the momentum-
wheel balance the action of this spring by the resistance
the atmosphere offers to their progress through it. As the
leverage action of the toothed sectors upon the momentum-
654
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na>
vigation.
Jensen’s
marine
governor.
Expansion-
valve.
wheel pinion increases (as the spring becomes distended,
and vice versd), it will be seen that the reaction of the
spring in propelling the momentum-wheel will at all times
be uniform, and as much only is required as will carry
round the momentum-wheel with its vanes at its proper
speed, and overcome the friction of working the throttle-
valve and throttle-valve connections. When the momen¬
tum-wheel is in motion, it will rotate with the engine to
which it is attached at a velocity proportioned to that at
which it is fixed by the connecting gear; and while the
engine, from the usual causes, may attempt to vary this
velocity, it cannot affect the momentum-wheel, but leaves
it free to act upon the sliding collar, and consequently
upon the throttle-valve—at one time closing the throttle-
valve by its action in resisting any increase of velocity, and
at another time opening the throttle-valve by its action in
resisting any decrease of velocity on the part of the engine.
A momentum-wheel of 2 feet 8 inches in diameter, and
2 inches breadth of periphery, running at a speed of 180
revolutions per minute, is found to be sufficient to work
with promptness and ease the largest throttle-valve.”
The same engineers have also introduced, for this pur¬
pose, an ingenious modification of the ordinary Watt’s cen¬
trifugal governor, called “ Silver’s four-ball governor,” in
which the action of a spiral-spring is substituted for that of
gravity, and the whole apparatus (like the preceding one)
is balanced, so as to remain undisturbed in its action by
the pitching or rolling of the vessel.
It is evident that the action of all such governors is so
far imperfect, that they do not shut off the steam before
the speed of the engine has begun to be sensibly affected
by the very evil it is desired to remedy, and it has been
therefore attempted (by Mr Jensen of Copenhagen) to con¬
struct a marine governor, which may make use of the cause
of the evil as the remedy against it; or, in other words, to
employ the irregular immersion of the vessel as the means
of regulating the engines, in preference to letting the en¬
gines regulate themselves. This he effects in a very simple
and ingenious manner, by employing two small cylinders,
which communicate with the sea below their pistons, whose
motion is then transmitted, by rods and bell-cranks, to the
throttle-valves of the engines. These cylinders are placed
inside the vessel (one on each side), and as near as possible
to the position occupied by the propeller. As the sea has
free admission under the pistons, the latter are subjected to
a varying pressure of water, nearly corresponding with that
to which the propeller itself is exposed. This varying
pressure (modified by the action of a spiral spring) is there¬
fore communicated immediately to the throttle-valves
through the cranked rods, and thus shuts off or admits the
steam before the engines have felt the variation in the load
about to be transmitted to them from the propeller.
The steam, after passing the throttle-valve, next enters
the expansion-valve, where it is cut off at any desired
portion of the stroke, by the action of an eccentric, or cam,
on the main shaft. Such an arrangement is shown in Plate
XXIX. The valve usually employed for this purpose is
the “equilibrium” or “ double-beat” valve, as shown in the
annexed engraving. This kind of valve has the advantage
of being opened
and shut with
great facility,
since, from its
construction, the
pressure of the
steam has no
tendency to jam
it against its seat,
the objection to Fig 24.
which all single flat valves are subject. It is also apparent
that a slight rise of this valve gives a large opening for the
Exhaiul
Steam
steam to pass. In the engraving, the valves a a are made Steam Na-
of brass, and the valve-box, and the spindles connecting vigation.
the valves, are of iron. In this instance the valves are
purposely connected by iron spindles, in order that the linear
expansion of the sides of the box containing the valves, and
of the spindle connecting them, may be equal in amount, and
therefore have no tendency to raise the upper valve off its
seat, which would certainly ensue were the valves connected
by a brass spindle, in consequence of the greater expansion
of that metal by heat. This arrangement of the metals
will be seen to be of special importance when superheated
steam is used, and the temperature thereby increased.
Having passed the expansion-valves, the steam now enters Slide-
the jacket of the cylinder slide-valves. These are usually valves,
so constructed and arranged as to fulfil the following con¬
ditions for the admission and exclusion of the steam, inde¬
pendently of the action of the expansion-valves:—\st, The
steam is shut off a little before the end of the stroke, by the
valve prematurely closing the steam-port aperture. The
use of this is to check the velocity of the piston, by causing
it to finish the stroke by the expansion of the enclosed
steam only. This is effected by giving “lap” to the valve.
2d, The eduction-port, or the passage to the condenser, is
closed a little before the end of the stroke, which is called
cushioning the piston, because it then completes the stroke
against an elastic cushion of vapour shut up between it and
the top or bottom of the cylinder. 2>d, The port is opened
for the admission of steam to the cylinder a very little before
the piston begins the return-stroke, in order that the steam
may have filled the passages and the “ clearance ” of the pis¬
ton, and have acquired its full pressure, by the time that the
crank shall have turned the centre. This is effected by
giving what is called “ lead” to the valve. \th, The com¬
munication with the condenser is opened a little before the
end of the stroke, so as to have a vacuum ready made in
the cylinder so soon as the return stroke begins. In this
way each operation which takes place in the cylinder is
slightly anticipated by the mode of setting the valves. In
the case of screw-engines especially (which run at a high
velocity), it is of the greatest importance that the steam-
passages and valves should be of ample size, and those
valves only should be used which give a large opening for
the steam, with a short “travel” of the valve.
As the nature and limits of this article preclude a mi¬
nute description of the details of the marine engine (which
indeed are very similar to those of the stationary conden¬
sing engine, already given in the article Steam-Engine),
we will not attempt this, but at once follow the steam from
the cylinder into the condenser. In this magical little Condenser,
chamber the whole of those perplexing processes we have
been considering are at once reversed, and all the labour
and expense incurred in generating the steam in the boilers
(themselves about twenty times larger than the condenser),
are, as it were, instantly annihilated. The condensation of
the steam is usually effected by the dispersion of a jet of
cold sea-water amongst it, which is the most effectual means
yet known for producing that instantaneous condensation,
upon which the efficacy of the process is entirely dependent.
Many attempts have been made, as we have before stated, Surface-
to condense the steam by contact with cold metallic sur- condensers
faces without the use of the water-jet, but they have all,
more or less, failed, from the condensation not being suffi¬
ciently sudden. The plan known as “Hall’s Condensers”
is, indeed, partially successful; but, owing probably to
their weight, bulk, complexity, and expense, they are very
little used, although it is now twenty years since their
first introduction. In most surface-condensers the steam
is passed through a great many small copper pipes, con¬
tained in a cistern of cold water, through which a current
from the sea is made to flow by means of a force-pump.
In such an arrangement, the loss of water arising from
STEAM NAVIGATION.
655
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Super¬
heated
steam con¬
denses
freely.
denser.
leakage, or from blowing-off at the valves, is compensated
to the boiler by employing a small apparatus to distil sea¬
water, by the aid of which the boilers are kept constantly
supplied with tresh water. A close connection exists be¬
tween the temperature of the condenser and the vacuum,
the latter being of course more complete as the tempe¬
rature is reduced. There is a limit, however, beyond
which any further reduction of temperature, by injecting
more sea-water, is attended by a loss of power. It is found
in practice, that a temperature of from 95° to 105° (depend¬
ing upon the pressure of the steam), is the most economi¬
cal, with which a vacuum of from 27^ to 26 inches of mer¬
cury is obtained when the weather barometer stands at
29J inches, the standard of this country. It is a curious
fact, and contrary to what might at first sight have been
anticipated, that a better vacuum, and a lower temperature
of the condenser, is obtained with superheated steam, than
with common steam, being probably owing to the more
perfect condensation of the steam, when not mixed with
particles of hot w ater held in mechanical suspension. This
fact appears also to indicate, that the extra doze of heat
contained in the superheated steam has been all previously
and usefully expended in the cylinder (by supplying the
expanding steam with latent heat), and that no portion of it
survives to enter the condenser. Whatever the cause may
be, the result is, that considerably less injection-water is
required when superheated steam is used, much to the sur¬
prise of the engineer in charge.
Contents of According to Dr lire’s experiments, uncondensed watery
the con- vapour at a temperature of 100° balances 1 '86 inch of mer¬
cury ; at 110°, 2-45 inches; at 120°, 3-3 inches; at 130°,
4-366 inches ; at 140°, 5-77 inches ; and at 150°, 7‘53 inches
of mercury, or exerts a pressure of 3J pounds per square inch.
In addition to the uncondensed vapour, a considerable
quantity of atmospheric air is always present in the con¬
denser, having entered it in combination with the conden¬
sing water. The contents of the condenser, therefore, are
sea-water used for condensation, condensed steam, uncon¬
densed watery vapour, and atmospheric air. To remove
these is the duty of the air-pump. It has a capacity of
about fths of that of the cylinder, and is furnished with a
“ bucket” and valves, which are now usually formed of a
stout circular disc of vulcanized India-rubber. The air-
pump draw's its contents from the condenser through the
foot-valve, and then passes them on through the delivery-
valve and the discharge-pipe into the sea, a small portion
of the hot water being abstracted by the feed-pumps to
supply the boilers.
The machinery of a sea-going steamer should be as
simple in design and possess as few moving parts as pos¬
sible. In vessels designed for long voyages more espe¬
cially, as well as in those which are intended for foreign
stations, it is far preferable to dispense with those clever
and ingenious contrivances for saving infinitesimal quanti¬
ties of fuel which are in vogue with some manufacturing
engineers of the present day, and more especially in Scot¬
land. During a long run, as from Aden to Australia, for
instance, the chances of derangement of the machinery are
much increased by the mere inability to make the usual
adjustments demanded by ordinary wear and tear; and it
is surely wise to avoid the additional risk attending a great
multiplicity of parts, the failure of any of w hich may cause
the stoppage of the engines. When we consider that a
large pair of engines may very possibly have five hundred
different parts all in motion at once, and that each of these
parts is making a thousand rotations, or double-oscillations,
each half-hour, for twenty days consecutively, it can scarcely
be wondered at that accidents should occasionally happen.
But allowing that everything goes well with this compli¬
cated machinery, it is not by the use of such finical refine¬
ments of mechanism that any great saving of fuel can be
The air
pump.
Marine
engines
should be
simple.
effected (for this is the main point aimed at), but rather by Steam Na-
the careful and judicious management of the boilers and vigation.
engines. The fortunate selection of a good chief-engineer
for the vessel will generally effect more saving in fuel than
the most ingenious and expensive “ modern improve¬
ments.” These remarks are not intended to apply to the
obvious advantages obtained by superheating the steam,
large expansion, careful clothing (or jacketing) of the cylin¬
ders and steam-pipes, &c., which do not add much to the
complexity of the engines.
The tendency of modern practice is to run the pistons Large
of steam-engines at a much higher speed than formerly, bearings
I his is more especially the case with screw-engines, whose necessaiT'
pistons frequently run at the rate of 400 feet per minute,
in place of Watt’s old rule of 220 as a maximum. Although
theory does not impose larger dimensions on the moving
parts of a machine on this account, it is found in prac¬
tice that the shafts of screw-engines running at a high
velocity must be considerably increased in size to avoid
accident. This arises partly from the increased momentum
of the parts in motion; partly from the greater tendency
of the bearings to heat from friction; and partly from the
more rapid wear and tear of the brasses and sockets, by
which the accurate fitting of the parts is destroyed, and
these are consequently subjected to unequal jerks and
strains. The simple remedy tor such disorders is to enlarge
the main-shafts and bearings, the latter being also made
unusually long, so as to diminish the effects of friction and
wear and tear.
The iron shafts of marine engines revolve in sockets or Linings of
bearings lined with brass or gun-metal. These give rise bearings,
to little friction, but, as their wear is rapid, they require
frequent attention to keep the lining screwed up to the
neck of the shaft, and they must be renewed when much
worn. In the case of screw-ships, where the bearings of
the screw-shaft are not readily accessible, this used to give
much trouble, until it was found out (partly by accident)
that bearings lined with lignum vitce instead of brass are
subject to exceedingly little wear or friction. A plan has
been therefore adopted of fitting these bearings with rings
of lignum vitce alternating with rings of gun-metal, which
answers very satisfactorily.
Before leaving the subject of shafts, it may be remarked Deteriora-
that these, whether paddle or screw, appear liable to de- tion of
teriorate by continued use, and finally to give way, some- shafts,
times suddenly, but oftener gradually. It is contended by
some that the iron of which they are formed has a tendency
to lose its toughness, and assume a crystalline texture,
from long exposure to the shocks and vibrations to which
all such shafts are subject. Having had very many oppor¬
tunities of observing broken shafts, the author does not hold
with this theory, but thinks the following explanation to be
more probable. It is allowed to be a difficult operation
to make large shafts perfectly sound in the centre, where
the bars of iron of which they are built up are not always
thoroughly welded into one homogeneous mass. These
imperfections, when they exist, are of course not visible on
the outside, nor do they seriously affect the strength of the
shaft at first; but as the continued jarring and twisting goes
on from year to year, they become more and more devel¬
oped, and the shaft becomes loose in the centre, acquiring a
“ reedy” structure which gradually extends to the surface.
A fracture then takes place, if the crack be not observed
and the shaft renewed.
The efficient lubrication of the bearings and other work- Lubrica-
ing parts of the engine with oil or melted tallow is a ma- tion of the
terial point to be attended to, both as regards the smooth machinery.
working of the machinery and its preservation from injury.
From want of this simple precaution the bearings get
strongly heated by the friction, and may either be damaged
by the consequent expansion which takes place, or else
♦
STEAM NAVIGATION.
656
Steam Na- (racked by the cold water which is usually poured on them
vigation. from a hose, to cool them down again. Self-lubricating
—apparatus is preferable for this purpose, wherever it can be
applied, as it is both more economical of oil and more cer¬
tain in its operation. Although compactness in an engine
is desirable within certain limits, this should never be car¬
ried to such an excess that the engineer is unable to get
conveniently about his engine while it is at work, in order Steam Na.
to lubricate the parts, and tighten brasses and packings. vigation.
Every chief engineer of a steamship should be furnished
with a printed form of Engineers’ Log to be filled up by Engineer’s
the engineer in charge during each watch of four hours. loS-
It should be arranged in a manner somewhat similar to
the annexed form :—
Paddle-
wheel •
its defects
are more
apparent
than real.
Steam-vessels are propelled either by paddle-wheels or
screws.
]. Paddle-Wheels.—There are two kinds of paddle-
wheels in general use in this country, namely, the common
wheel, and that with feathering floats. The common pad¬
dle-wheel, notwithstanding many attempts to supersede it,
still maintains a high place as a simple and efficient pro¬
pelling agent; the faults which have been attributed to it
being, it is believed, more apparent than real. When a
steam-vessel is moored in a harbour and prevented from
moving, or when first commencing motion after having
been at rest, the defects of the common paddle-wheel ap¬
pear to be very great. The paddle-boards, on entering the
water, press obliquely down into it, tending to raise or lift
the vessel up out of the water with a force which produces
no useful effect. Again, when the paddle-board is leaving
the water, it seems to do little more than raise or drive the
water upwards in the
form of back-water.
It is only, there¬
fore, in the middle of
its path that the pro¬
pulsion of the paddle
seems to be exerted
in forwarding the
boat, and that only for
a short time. A large
part of the force of the
steam - engine seems
thus to be expended in
raising the vessel, and in elevating the back-water, and
only a small portion in carrying the ship forward.
This is the case of a vessel at rest, or not in rapid motion ;
but the phenomena of a paddle-wheel revolving when the
vessel is in motion differ essentially from the phenomena
of a wheel revolving on a vessel at rest. When it is just
starting, or as vet moving very slowly, the evils here men¬
tioned do in some degree take place; but by the motion of
the vessel forwards (which is the result of the revolution of
the paddles), the faults complained of are at once remedied,
and the paddle-float of a common wheel in a quick vessel
is virtually “ feathered” as perfectly as the most practised
rower could feather his oar. A little study of the geometri¬
Fig. 25.
The Common Paddle wheel.
cal conditions of a paddle moving forwards and in a circle at Its actual
the same time renders this plain. The paths described by motion,
the boards are trachoidal curves, being of the family of the
cycloid; and from the study of the motion actually per¬
formed by the paddle-board of the common wheel, it is seen,
first, that the board is inserted into the water in an angular
position resembling closely the entrance of an oar into the
water; secondly, that it is then made to act horizontally
on the water during a short interval; and thirdly, that it is
withdrawn from the water edgeways, with an easy and
graceful movement.
When the paddle-wheel is either badly proportioned, Feathering
immersed too deep in the water, or attached to a very Paddle-
slow boat, its action becomes much impaired or impeded. wheel>
Hence much attention has been devoted to the construc¬
tion of a paddle that should be more effective in these un¬
favourable circumstances than the common wheel. Some
of the contrivances invented for this purpose have failed
for want of perception of the precise motion it was neces¬
sary to give to the paddle-board ; others from the complexity
of the mechanism employed. In the year 1829 a patent was
granted to Elijah Galloway for a paddle-wheel with mov¬
able boards, which patent was purchased by Mr William
Morgan, who made some unimportant alterations in the
Fig. 26.
Feathering Paddle-wheel.
mechanism. This, called the feathering paddle-wheel, is
represented by the above wood-engraving (fig. 26), by
STEAM NAVIGATION.
657
Slip of the
paddle.
Want of
power in a
steamer to
start a load.
Explana¬
tion.
Steam Na- inspecting which it will be seen that a distinct feathering
vigation. movement is imparted to the boards on entering and leaving
the water. rl his movement, it will be observed, is derived
from the excentric motion of the periphery of the second
paddle-centre, to which are hinged the long rods that com¬
municate the desired movement to the boards turning on
pivots. Wheels made on this principle, though consider¬
ably heavier and more expensive than the common paddle-
wheels, a *e frequently preferred for sea-going steamers
subject t'- much variation of draught. They have been
known to improve the average speed of a steamer by more
than a knot an hour, and they are always accompanied
with less vibration than the common paddles.
1 he “ slip” of the paddle-wheel, by which is meant the
excess of its velocity above that of the vessel, is usually
reckoned at £th (or 20 per cent.) of the vessel’s speed when
the wheel is well proportioned, and the vessel tolerably
fast. Feathering wheels have less slip.
Ihe captains of steamers are frequently both surprised
and disappointed to find how powerless their vessel is to
drag a stranded ship off the shore, even when the whole
power of their engines is exerted for this purpose. A slight
consideration of the subject will show that the requirements
of such a case are very unfavourable to the proper develop¬
ment of the power of a steamer. We will suppose a vessel
fitted with a pair of paddle-wheel engines of 500 horse¬
power collectively. 1 he diameter of each cvlinder will
then be, say, 80 inches, and the stroke 6 feet. The length
of the crank will therefore be 3 feet, driving a paddle-wheel
of, we will suppose, 28 feet effective diameter, reckoned at
one-third of the depth of the boards from their extreme
edge. When the piston of each engine alternately arrives
at the top or bottom of its stroke, that engine is then power¬
less, and the whole of the work devolves upon the other
engine, which is then at half-stroke, with the crank nearly at
right angles to the thrust, and therefore in the most advan¬
tageous position for transferring the power. By bringing
the pistons of both engines to f stroke, we obviously im¬
prove upon this, for now both engines are assisting to turn
the shaft, though acting at a reduced leverage in the pro¬
portion of 3 feet to 2,15 feet nearly. By calculating the pres¬
sure upon the two pistons, we find the statical power exerted
by the engines (the one pushmg and the other pulling); but
as the thrust thus found is transmitted by a lever of the
second order, the short arm of which is the crank, and the
long arm the radius of the paddle-wheel, it is necessarily re¬
duced in the inverse ratio which these bear to each other, or
as 14 : 2*15. The calculation would then be as follows :—
602(H) (area of cyl.) x 22 f 8uPP°sed effective press. )
v J ' (per sq. inch of piston... J uol'u
cylinders) = 221,166 lb. = 98'75 tons total pressure on pistons.
Then as 14 : 2-15 :: 9875 : 15 16 tons.
This being further reduced by 20 or 25 per cent, for the
friction of the machinery, working the air-pumps, &c.,
leaves scarcely eleven tons of thrust available for starting a
weight, or dragging a stranded vessel off the shore, by a
steamer of 500 nominal horse-power.
A similar calculation made for screw-engines shows a
like result.
Definition 2. Screw-Propeller.—A screw as used for propelling
of a screw. vessels may be de_
fined as a metal
plate wound, edge¬
ways, round a cylin¬
der or spindle, as
shown in the accom¬
panying sketch (fig.
27 a), which repre¬
sents one full turn
ofthecommon screw. XJg. a.
This would be a single-threaded screw, but it is evident
VOL. xx.
that two, three, or more threads, if kept uniformly parallel
to each other, may in the same way be wound round the
spindle without interfering with each other. We should
thus have a two-threaded or a three-threaded screw, the
former being chiefly used for propelling in the navy, and
the latter in the merchant service. The whole length of
one complete turn of the screw, measured in a straight line
along the spindle, is
called the pitch of the
screw. In the preceding
engraving, therefore,
the pitch is measured
by the length of the Fig. 27 6.
spindle (fig. 27 a), since the thread makes one complete
turn upon it. It is also apparent, that if this screw were
tinned once round in a piece of soft wood (in the same
manner as a carpenter’s screw), it would advance through
the wood the exact distance between the cut ends of the
thread, which (we have seen) is the pitch. Hence, by the
pitch of a screw, we understand always its linear progres¬
sion for one revolution, and the speed of the screw is mea¬
sured by multiplying the pitch into the number of revolu¬
tions. If the screw were working in a solid, the speed
thus found would give its actual linear advance ; but as it
revolves in water, which is a yielding medium, the water
gives way to some extent, and the screw does not advance
the full amount of its pitch, this deficiency in its progress
being called the slip of the screw.
Now, if the screw represented by fig. 27 a be cut into
several portions by planes passing across it at right angles
to the axis, each of these sections would have the appear¬
ance of the vane of a windmill. If the screw were two-
threaded, the vanes or “ blades,” as they are called, would
be exactly opposite each other, as shown in fig. 27 5,
or as in the annexed sketch, fig 28 5, which repre¬
sents a two-bladed screw as used in propelling. The
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Slip of the
screw.
Form of
the screw-
propeller.
screw here' represented is about one-sixth part only of
the whole length, or pitch, of the full turn of the screw
shown by fig, 27 a, this small fraction of the pitch being
found sufficient to absorb the whole power of the engines,
so that any greater length of screw would only be hurtful
by causing unnecessary friction, as well as by increasing
the size of the aperture in which it works. By the length
of the screw, therefore, is meant the fraction of the pitch
employed, measured along the axis of the screw. By the
diameter of the screw is meant the diameter of the circle
described by the extremities of the blades during their
revolution.
The effect produced in propelling the ship will be best Action of
understood by supposing the screw represented by fig. 27 «,the screw
to be revolving rapidly in a trough full of water. It would Proi,el*
then send the water away from it with great force; but as lins’
action and reaction are equal, it would be itself, at the same
time, urged in the opposite direction with exactly the same
degree of force. If we suppose it, then, to be fixed in a
ship, the ship will be pushed forward with the same force
that is exerted by the screw in pushing back against the
water. If the screw is made to revolve in the opposite
direction, the converse of this takes place, and the ship is
then pushed backwards by the reaction of the screw.
4 o
658
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Different
forms of
screws.
Wood-
:roft’s pro¬
peller.
Smith’s
screw.
Lowers
screw-
blades.
Griffith’s
propeller.
Descrip¬
tion.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
The screw-propeller has been subjected by would-be in¬
ventors to an endless variety ot form ; but these have gene¬
rally shown themselves more or less inefficient accoiding
as they may have departed from the principle of the true
screw. The first patent of any interest connected with
this subject is that of Mr B. Woodcroft, taken out in 1332,
for an “increasing pitch” screw-propeller. His specifica¬
tion describes “ A spiral worm-blade or screw coiled round
a shaft or cylinder of any convenient length and diameter,
in such form that the angle of inclination which the worm
makes with the axis of the cylinder continually increases,
and the pitch or distance between the coils or revolutions of
the spiral continually increases throughout the whole length
of the shaft or cylinder upon which the spiral is formed.”
Mr Woodcroft’s idea, that the after-part of the screw would
thus be made to act with increased efficiency upon the
water which had been previously acted upon by the fore¬
most part, is undoubtedly correct in principle, and had a
full turn of the thread been found necessary for propelling
(as was at first thought), this plan would probably have
been found practically advantageous; but when the length
of the screw was cut down by Lowe to one-sixth part of
the pitch, very little scope was afforded for Mr Woodcroft’s
refinement, and it has proved to be really of little or no value.
Mr F. P. Smith’s patent was secured in 1836 for “ a
sort of screw or worm made to revolve rapidly under water
in a recess or open space formed in that part of the after¬
part of the vessel commonly called the dead rising or dead-
wood of the run.” Mr Smith’s original drawings showed
a screw with two whole turns of the thread, which was after¬
wards altered in 1839 to one whole turn.
Mr James Lowe obtained a patent in 1838 for a screw-
propeller formed of “ curved blades, each a portion of a
curve, which, if continued, would form a screw.” The
drawings attached to his specification show a shaft with one
blade, a shaft with two blades, and a shaft with four blades.
The screw-propeller now generally used (see fig. 27 b, and
fig. 28 6), may be considered as a combination of Smith’s
screw and Lowe’s blades, its present form having been in a
great measure determined by the series of experiments
with the Rattler in 1844. (See page 660.)
Griffith’s screw-propeller, first patented in 1849, is
probably the best modification of the common screw which
has yet been produced. Its principal feature consists in the
employment of alarge sphere occupyingthe central portion of
the screw. The second peculiarity of Griffith’s screw consists
in the peculiar form of the blades, which, unlike those of the
common screw, are larger towards the centre, and tapering
towards the extremities. The extremities of the blades
are curved from the front or propelling side towards the
vessel, which causes the screw to take a greater hold of the
water, and drive it towards the inner or central portion,
which, in Griffith’s screw, is the most effective part.
This propeller is represented in its simplest form by the
wood-engraving (fig. 28 a), and as recently improved by
the annexed engraving (fig. 29.) It will be seen that this
propeller consists of three main parts, viz., the boss which
is keyed on to the screw-shaft in the usual manner; and
the two blades, which have turned shanks fitting into bored
recesses in the boss. Each blade is retained in its position
by a key, which is adjusted into its place after the blade has
been inserted and turned in its socket about ninety degrees,
or until the arrow marked on the flange points to the pitch
which it is desired the screw shall have, of which several
have been previously measured, and marked upon the screw.
When Griffith’s screw was first introduced, it was ex¬
pected that great advantages would result from an arrange¬
ment in its construction (which it shared with Maudslay’s
feathering screw), by which the pitch or angle of the blades
could with facility either be increased, diminished, or “ fea¬
thered” during the voyage, to suit the varying exigencies
of a steam-vessel at sea. Experience, however, has Steam Na-
proved that the risk of derangement incident to the ma- vigation.
chinery requisite for this purpose is too great to admit of
Tig. 29.
Griffith’s Improved Patent Screw-propeller.
practical success, and also that the advantages to be ob¬
tained by such an arrangement are far less than was sup¬
posed. The use of screws to feather at sea has, therefore,
been very generally abandoned. It will be observed, by Advan-
looking at the engraving, that the blades of Griffith’s screw tages of
are quite distinct from the boss, into which they are in- G"®th 8
serted and keyed in such a manner that their angle or pitchscrew-
may be altered and fixed before the voyage, though not at
sea. The use of this arrangement is, that the engineer may
find out experimentally the particular pitch of his screw
which is most suitable to the engines and ship, experience
having shown how very difficult a thing it is to hit upon
the right pitch by previous calculation alone. Another ad¬
vantage resulting from this arrangement is, that when a
blade is accidentally bi'oken, it can be replaced without
having to remove the centre part, which in Griffith’s form
of screw is tolerably safe from injury. It is unnecessary,
therefore, to carry a spare screw, but only a couple of
blades. When the ship is placed under canvass alone, the
screw is brought into a position with the blades vertical,
in a line with the stern-post, when little resistance is offered
to the water. Although Griffith’s screw’ cannot be said to
have shown any very decided superiority in speed over a
common screw of the best form, it is certainly not inferior
in this respect, while it is attended with less vibration, is
less affected by a rough sea, and is more manageable under
canvass from offering less resistance to the water, and less
obstruction to the free action of the rudder.
When the common screw is employed in merchant-Common
steamers, a three-bladed screw is usually preferred, since screw,
this causes less vibration, and gives a steadier motion in a
rou'di sea than the two-bladed screw. The resistance Resistance
which such a screw occasions to the vessel, when sailing to sailing,
under canvass alone, is very serious, in addition to the diffi¬
culty experienced in steering ; and it is found in practice,
that but little advantage is gained by disconnecting the
screw from the engines, and letting it revolve in its bear-
STEAM NAVIGATION.
659
Hoisting
screw.
Steam Na- ings, in preference to dragging it through the water,
vigation. Hence, in the case of steamships which depend much
upon their canvass, one of three remedies must be adopted :
namely, the screw must either be hoisted bodily out of the
water; it must be feathered; or, thirdly, such a form must
be employed (as Griffith’s two-bladed screw, for instance),
which will not interfere much with the sailing and steering
of the ship, when the blades are placed vertical, and the
screw left down in its
place. Plie hoisting screw
has been adopted gene¬
rally for war-steamers,
which are supposed to
make great use of their
sails, and which have a
larger number of men
available for quickly hoist¬
ing and lowering it. The
annexed engraving shows
the manner in which this
is effected in the royal
navy. A is the screw
(of gun-metal) ; B is the
hoisting-frame (also of
gun-metal)which lifts the
screw, with its bearings,
bodily out of the stern-
frame of the ship; C is
a gun-metal rack, to hold
the hoisting-frame at any
portion of its ascent; D
is the chain and pulley
used in hoisting; E is
a clutch upon the screw-
shaft, to enable the screw
to be disconnected, and
rise when brought into
a vertical position ; F is
the gun-metal lining of
the screw-shaft, which passes water-tight through the inner
stern-post I; G is the iron screw-shaft; H is the outer
stern-post; K is the “trunk” through which the screw is
raised to the main-deck, when the blades are brought ver¬
tical.
Descrip¬
tion.
Fig. 80.
Having now seen what are the principal forms of screw-
propellers in general use in this country, let us briefly ex¬
amine some of the qualities inherent in the screw itself.
Functions 1. Pitch. The question between the relative valves of
of the pitch fine an(i coarsely pitched screws still remains, in a great
a screw. measure) undecided. In fact, our experience hitherto has
only tended to show, that nothing but actual trial of dif¬
ferent pitches can satisfactorily establish the best pitch of
screw for any particular vessel. The points to be con¬
sidered in reference to this inquiry are so numerous and
complicated in their bearings upon each other, that they
utterly defy previous calculation of their effects ; some
vessels giving the best results with coarsely-pitched screws
running at a low speed, while other vessels, not very dis¬
similar, attain their highest velocity with a finely-pitched
screw running fast. It is generally acknowledged, how¬
ever, that a coarsely-pitched screw is the best for a vessel
with fine after-lines, and a finely-pitched screw for vessels
with full sterns. The form of the after-lines has un¬
doubtedly a very great influence on the most advantageous
pitch of screw for that particular ship, depending on the
amount of “ back-water” in which the screw works, and the
velocity with which it follows the ship. It is by no means
an uncommon thing for one vessel to gain a knot an hour
by an alteration of the pitch ; while in the case of another
vessel, perhaps, no improvement is effected by a similar
alteration.
2. Diameter. This is made simply as great as the draught Steam Na-
of water will admit. In sea-going steamers the top of the vigation.
screw should be submerged about 18 inches or 2 feet at
the average trim, to allow for the undulations of the sea. Diameter.
3. Area and Length. By the area of the screw is gene- Area and
rally understood the plane projection of the resisting sur- length,
face of the blades. In the experiments made with the
Dwarf, it was found that the speed of the vessel remained
almost a constant quantity, although the length of her
screw was successively diminished from 2 feet 6 inches to
1 foot, the area corresponding to each of these lengths
being respectively 22-2 and 8-96 square feet. The slight
improvement which did take place in the speed of the boat
attended the diminished area. It seems at first sight ex¬
traordinary that so great a variation in the resisting surface
should cause so little disturbance either in the speed of the
engines or of the vessel, thus showing plainly how small a
segment of the whole pitch is required to absorb all the
power which the reaction of the watei is capable of im¬
parting, any extra length of screw beyond this point only
retarding by friction. The Rattler’s experiments were in
the same way commenced with a screw 5 feet 9 inches
long, which was gradually shortened until it reached its
point of maximum effect at 15 inches only. It is now a
common practice to make the length of the screw £th of
the pitch.
4. Slip. The apparent slip of the screw depends upon a Slip,
great variety of circumstances. It is modified by the dia¬
meter and by the speed, being generally found to diminish
as these increase. Thus, the diameter of the Rattler’s
screw, during her experiments, was 10 feet, and her ave¬
rage slip 15 per cent. ; while the Dwarf and Fairy, with
screws of 5 or 6 feet diameter, show an average slip of
about 35 per cent. The form of the after-lines of the vessel
has a very notable effect on the apparent slip of the screw,
which' must not be regarded as a measure of the efficiency
with which the propeller is acting. On the contrary, many
vessels whose lines are most unfavourable for speed show
an exceedingly small slip of the propeller; and in some
instances of this kind there is not only no slip apparent, but
the screw has actually what is called negative slip, which
implies that the vessel is going faster than the rate at which
the screw which propels it would advance if working in a
solid. This curious and paradoxical result is due to the Negative
current which all ships, more or less, but especially those slip,
with full sterns, carry in their wrake; and since the screw
acts in this current, the apparent slip will be positive or
negative in proportion as the real slip, or the velocity of
the current, may preponderate ; but in every case the screw
must have some slip relatively to the w’ater in which it
acts. Suppose, for instance, that a badly formed ship has
a current of water following in its wake, and closing in upon
the screw at a velocity of 4 miles an hour, while the real
slip of the screw is but 3 miles an hour, the result will be
that the screw will show an apparent negative slip of 1
mile an hour. It must not be supposed that in such a case
the power of the engines is economically applied, for, in
fact, much power is uselessly consumed in dragging this
current of water after the ship. The same apparent dimi¬
nution of slip is always found when the vessel is advancing
with a tide or current. Anomalies of this kind most fre¬
quently occur in auxiliary screw-steamers, where the vessel,
after attaining a high velocity by sails alone, still continues
to receive a propelling thrust from the screw, even after the
speed of the latter appears to be less than that of the vessel.
In order to give the reader some perception of what Trials of
really are the conditions of the screw most conducive to screws in
speed in the vessel, I have selected the trials of twelve tlie Rattier<
different screws made in the same vessel, the Rattler,
arranging them in the order of their relative efficiency,
beginning with the lowest.
660
Steam Na¬
vigation.
' v '
Trials of
screws in
the Doris.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
1. With a four-threaded Woodcroft’s increasing pitch screw,
9 feet diameter, 1 foot 7 inches long, and the pitch varying from
11 feet to 11 feet 6 inches (mean 11-275), the speed of the vessel
was 8-159 knots ; the engines making 24"15 revolutions per minute,
and the screw 96—slip, 23-5 per cent.
2. With a three-threaded common screw, 9 feet diameter, 3 feet
long and 11 feet pitch, the speed of the vessel was 8-23 knots ; the
engines making 24'2 revolutions, and the screw 94-3—slip 19-66
per cent.
3. With Sunderland’s propeller, 8 feet in diameter, the speed of
the ship was 8‘38 knots; the engines making 17-49 revolutions,
and the screw-shaft 69’97.
4. With the same screw as No. 2, reduced in length to 1 foot
7£ inches, the speed of the vessel was 8-57 knots; the engines
making 24 8 revolutions, and the screw 98'4—slip, 19 7 per cent.
5. With the same screw as No. 1, but with two of the blades cut
off, the vessel’s speed advanced to 8-63 knots; the engines making
27-07 revolutions, and the screw 107-5—slip, 25-97 per cent.
6. With a two-threaded common screw, 10 feet diameter, 3 feet
long, and 11 feet pitch, the speed of the vessel was 8 958 knots;
the engines making 24 revolutions, and the screw 95—slip, 13-8
uer cent.
7. With a four-threaded common screw, 9 feet diameter, 1 foot 7
inches long, and 11 feet pitch, the speed of the vessel was 9-18
knots ; the engines making 26‘3 revolutions, and the screw 104-4—
slip, 27"7 per cent.
8. With a two-threaded common screw, 9 feet diameter, 3 feet
long, and 11 feet pitch, the speed of the vessel was 9'25 knots; the
engines making 26-8 revolutions, and the screw 106—slip, 19-5 per
cent.
9. With the same screw as No. 6, shortened to 2 feet, the vessel's
speed increased to 9-448 knots; the engines making 25-5 revolu¬
tions, and the screw 107—slip, 13-5 per cent.
10. With the same screw as No. 6 further reduced in length to
1 foot 6 inches, the speed of the vessel was 9-811 knots; the engines
making 27‘92 revolutions, and the screw 110-7—slip, 18-3 per cent.
11. With the same screw as No. 2 further reduced in length to
1 foot 2 inches, the speed of the vessel was 9-88 knots; the engines
making 27-39 revolutions, and the screw 108-4—slip, 15-97 per
cent.
12. With the same screw as No. 6 further reduced in length to 1
foot 3 inches, the speed of the vessel increased to 10-74 knots; the
engines making 26"19 revolutions, and the screw 103-97—slip,
ljO-42 per cent.
Trials made with her Majesty's Steamer Flying Fish.
Description
of Screw.
Diame¬
ter.
Pitch.
Revolu¬
tions of.
Speed
of.
Slip
p. ct.
Indicated
horse¬
power of
Engines,
Speed of
Ship.
Common
Screw,
Gritfitl’s
Screw
with fea¬
thering
blades.
Ft. in
11 0
11 0
13 2
13 2
13 U
13 1J
13 lb
13 lb
13 lb
13 lb
Ft. in
21 4
21 4
20 0
20 0
19 0
17 0
16 0
15 0
18 0
17 0
No.
82
79b
75
74£
71*
77b
77*
83
75*
77*
Knots.
17-263
16737
14-802
14-704
13-406
1300
12- 197
12-286
13- 411
13-00
32£
32*
20*
21
15*
10*
4f
3|
14*
Hi
n.r.
1302-26
1154-86
1166-76
1160-60
1198-56
1287-00
1265-00
1358-80
1226-20
1265-80
Knots.
11-585
11-298
11-736
11-603
11-284
11-640
11.568
11-832
11-461
11-552
A very interesting series of experiments has been re¬
cently made with the screw-frigate Doris, to determine the
most suitable form of screw-propeller for our steam-vessels
of war. The following is a resume of the principal results
arrived at, the first five trials having been made with the
common or admiralty screw, and the last three with Grif¬
fith’s propeller. The engines of the Doris (by Messrs J.
Penn and Son) are of 800 nominal horse-power. The
draught of water while under trial was kept constant at
about 19 ft. 6 in. forward and 21 ft. 9 in. aft—exact mean,
20 ft. 6 in.; giving an immersed midship-section of 7421
square feet. Pressure of steam in boilers, 20 lbs.; indicated
horse-power, about 3000. The first trial with the admiralty
screw was with a diameter of 18 feet, the vessel’s speed
being 11*823 knots. On the second trial, with the diameter
increased to 20 feet, the speed realized was 11*826 knots,
with a great increase of vibration ; steering imperfect. On Steam Na-
the third trial, the “ leading ” corner of each blade was cut vigation.
off, and in this form the common screw attained its greatest
speed, giving a result of 12*032 knots, with 50 revolutions
of engines per minute, and 2884 indicated horse-power;
vibration reduced, and steering good. On the fourth trial,
both the corners of each blade were cut off, so as to assimi¬
late the blades to Griffith’s form, when, with a greater num¬
ber of revolutions, the speed fell off to 12-012 knots. In
the fifth trial, with the “ following ” corner of each blade
cut off, but the screw restored to its perfect form in every
other respect, a result of 11‘815 knots was obtained. The
common screw was then removed, and the next trial was
made with Griffith’s propeller, 20 feet diameter and 32 feet
pitch; this gave a result of 11-981 knots, there being
scarcely any vibration, and the ship steering well. The
second trial, with the same Griffith’s propeller, having the
blades set at 26 ft. 6 in. pitch, gave a speed of 12-269
knots, being the highest of the series ; steering perfect, and
no vibration perceptible; indicated horse-power, 3091. The
third trial of Griffith’s 20-feet screw, with the blades set at
a medium pitch of 30 feet, gave 12T58 knots.
Several important points connected with the screw-pro- Results of
peller seem to have been proved by these trials—1^, That Doris’s
the leading edge of the screw is the part that mostly affects trials-
the steering of the ship, and also causes the greater part of
the vibration ; 2d, That increased diameter of the screw is
better than increased pitch for reducing the speed of the
engines, but it considerably increases the vibration with the
common screw; whereas with Griffith’s it did not produce
that effect, in consequence of its chief propelling surface
being towards the centre. The common screw, when its
blades are cut to the form of Griffith’s, is not so effective as
when the centre sphere is applied to them. The power
required to obtain the same speed was very much the same
for both screws.
The annexed sketch is interesting from the peculiar mark¬
ings shown upon the surface of the screw, which is that of
the steamer Croesus. This vessel had on one occasion got
under way while the paint on her screw was still wet, and
on being docked soon afterwards the paint was found
streaked by the water, as here shown.
Fig. 31.
Official explanation of the Table of “ Results of Trials
made in her Majesty's Screw-ships.''
“ The numbers in the last two figure-columns of the table show
approximately the relative excellence, in respect of speed, of the
forms of the various vessels, conjointly with the relative efficiency
of the propeller, as adapted to each of them.
“ The formulae by which the calculations are made are founded
on the assumption that the resistance of a vessel varies as the
square of her velocity, and, therefore, that the power required to
produce that velocity varies as the cube, and that the usual effect
of the engine—that is, the effect which remains after deducting the
power absorbed in overcoming friction, working air-pumps, &c.—
bears a constant ratio to the power developed in the cylinder,
known by the term ‘ Indicated horse-power.’ The resistance is,
in the first of these columns, assumed to vary, cceteris paribus, as
the area of the midship-section, and in the last column as the square
of the cube-root of the displacement.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
661
Steam Na- “ None of these assumptions, however, more especially the last
vigation. two, are absolutely correct, but probably they are not so far from
v -ri > the truth as to render useless and uninteresting a comparison, of
which they are the basis, made between the performances of any
two screw-vessels; while between two vessels which do not mate¬
rially differ in engines and displacement, or in the area of their
midship-sections, such a comparison is not only highly interesting,
hut it may prove of great value in pointing out the forms of ves¬
sels and proportion of propellers which ought to be adopted. In
some striking cases it is scarcely necessary to make any other
comparison than that of speed. For example, as may be seen in
the table printed in 1850, the Teazer, after her form had been im¬
proved, went above a knot an hour faster with 40-horse engines
than she had previously gone with engines of 100 horse-power.
Again, these engines of 100 horse, when transferred to the Rifle¬
man a vessel approaching to double the tonnage—drove her,
after her form had been altered, as fast as she was previously
driven by engines of double the power, and nearly two knots faster
than the same engines drove the smaller vessel before the alter¬
ation of her after-body.—Admiralty, August 1856.”
Ruthven s [ he only otner mode of steam-propulsion which has been
"rcTeller atten^ec^)w‘t^ any considerable success is that known as
P f Ruth yen s water-jet system, in which the propelling power
is derived from the reaction, or recoil, of two jets of water
projected, at a high velocity, from nozzles at the ship’s side.
I he first experimental vessel on this principle was built
by Messrs. Ruthven, of Edinburgh, in 1843, and was tried
on the Firth of Forth, when it attained a speed of from 6 J
to 7 miles an hour. This was an iron-boat, 40 feet long.
The Enter-More recently, in 1853, the Enterprise was constructed on
prise. Ruthven’s principle, for deep-sea fishing, a preference being
given to the jet propeller in this case, from its being less
likely to interfere with the fishing-nets than the screw or
the paddles. The dimensions of the Enterprise are as
follow :—length of deck, 95 feet; length on the water-line,
87 feet; breadth of beam, 16 feet; depth, 8 feet; draught
at load-line, 4 feet; burthen, 100 tons. The propelling
power is derived from two pairs of horizontal oscillating
cylinders, each 12 inches in diameter, and 24 inches stroke
(condensing), working a vertical shaft. There is one cy¬
lindrical boiler, 6 fieet in diameter, and 5 feet long, with
two fire-tubes running through it, each 22 inches diameter,
and 105 return flue-tubes, each 5 feet long, and 2 inches
internal diameter. The propeller consists of a fan-wheel,
or centrifugal pump, 7 feet in diameter, with curved blades,
keyed on the lower end of the vertical crank-shaft; this
revolves horizontally in a water-tight casing into which the
water from the sea flows (along a covered passage), through
crescent-shaped openings in the bottom of the hull. The
water is expelled laterally, from the fan-wheel, in two con¬
tinuous streams, through curved pipes with nozzles, 10
inches in diameter, protruding from the sides of the hull.
The nozzles turn in collars fixed to the ship’s side, so that
they can be pointed a-stern or a-head, as required, for for¬
ward or backward motion, or downwards, when the vessel
is to remain at rest. 1 hese changes can be made rapidly
md easily from the deck, since the nozzles alone require to
be operated upon, while the engine continues to work at
full speed. Again, by setting the nozzles in opposite di¬
rections, one pointing a-head and the other a-stern, the
vessel can be turned on the spot, swinging on her beam
without the aid of the rudder; and she could thus be
steered by tbe nozzles in case of the rudder being lost or
disabled, the manoeuvring of the vessel being entirely in
the hands of the officers on deck. The vessel progressed
very smoothly, without tremulous motion.
In a trial trip with the Enterprise on the 16th of January
1854, from Granton to Kirkcaldy, in the Firth of Forth, and
back, a distance of 10|- miles each way, the speeds ob¬
tained w'ere 9'69 statute miles per hour going, and 9 miles
pei hour returning, giving an average of 9-35 miles per
loui the engine making 50 revolutions per minute. On
another occasion, she is stated to have made a considerably
higher speed, the engine making 65 revolutions per minute. Steam Na-
4 he draught of the vessel, during the trial, was 3 feet 2 vigation.
inches; and the immersed midship-section, 40'5 square feet.
The indicated horse-power of the engine was not known,
no indicator-diagrams having been taken. In such an
arrangement, much power is necessarily lost in communi¬
cating to the water which enters the propeller a velocity
equal to that of the ship, besides a considerable loss from
friction, eddies, &c.; but upon the whole, the power of the
engine seems to be applied to considerable advantage.
Even allowing that the speed attained does not equal that Advan-
from paddles or screw, the jet-propeller possesses other un- tagesof thr
doubted advantages which recommend it for special cases, water*jet
as for instance, in the Government floating-batteries and Prol)e^er'
steam-rams, where the screw and the rudder are particu¬
larly liable to be fouled by wreck and cordage. It would
also be preferable to the screw in cases of river-steamers
of very light draught, where the paddle might not be ap¬
plicable. Several of the large floating fire-engines on the
I hames have been fitted with this propeller, the water
being ejected by the powerful steam-pumps with which
these vessels are fitted. The speed, however, has in these
cases not proved satisfactory. A steamer, called the
Albert, propelled on this principle, was placed on the
Rhine, as a passenger-boat, a few years since, but did not
attain a speed proportional to her power or consumption
of fuel.
It is frequently asked, Whether is the paddle-wheel or Paddle
the screw the most efficient propeller ? This question may and screw
now be safely answered, by asserting, that when both are compared,
in their best trim, and both are equally well proportioned
to the engines and vessel, they are, as nearly as possible,
equally efficient. It follows, therefore, that the preference
for one or the other, in any particular case, depends entirely
upon the class of vessel and the nature of her service.
1 he objections to the paddle, as compared with the screw,
may be thus briefly stated, namely, the unequal immersion
of the wheels, according as the vessel swims light or deep;
the obstruction to the sailing of the ship caused by the
resistance of the paddle-boxes to the wind; and the dragging
of the paddle-boards through the water when the engine
power is not used, and the wheels are not disconnected ;
and, in the case of steam-vessels of war, the exposure of the
wheels and machinery to an enemy’s shot. The advantages
of the paddles, on the other hand, are, that they are not so
much affected by the pitching motion of the ship, when
steaming head to wind, as the screw is; that they do not
require such a speed of engine (or else gearing); and that,
from the disposition of the weights in respect to the centre
of gravity of displacement, the movements of the vessel are
easier than those of a screw-steamer, a matter of conside¬
rable interest to the passengers at least. With regard to
the screw, its efficiency is but little impaired by variations
of trim in the ship, but it is most injuriously affected by the
pitching motion. Its advantages in facilitating the sailing
of the ship are self-evident, and have been already alluded
to. In fine, the superiority of the screw for sea-going
steamers appears to amount to this, that it retains its
efficacy as a propelling agent under a greater variety of
conditions of sea, weather, and trim, than the paddles, and
that it admits of more use being made of the sails and a
greater display of seamanship in the navigation of the vessel.
Under proper management, therefore, it appears to be more
economical of steam-power than the paddle-wheels; and
this, it may be remarked, is the actual experience of the
Peninsular and Oriental Company, whose steam fleet is
composed of vessels on both principles.
Having thus briefly considered, firstly, the engine-power
of the steamship, and secondly, the immediate propelling
agents employed to produce locomotion, it will now be
necessary to view her as a completed whole, and to ex-
662
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Resistances
offered to a
steamer.
Direct re¬
sistance.
Influence
of form.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
amine some of the general properties and qualifications in¬
herent in, or demanded by, this complicated structure, as
well as the relations they severally bear to each other.
The construction of the steamer’s hull will be found amply
detailed in the article Ship-Building, so this need not be
here adverted to.
When a steamer is once set in motion, the motion is, of
course, continued by her momentum, and she would then
evidently continue to advance at a uniform speed, without
any more force being applied to her, were it not for the
opposition of external causes. These external forces which
she encounters, and which are constantly at work to destroy
her momentum, and bring her to a state of rest, are the
resistance of the water to her hull, and the resistance of the
air to her upper works and rigging; the impetus of the
waves and the winds being exerted sometimes in her favour,
and at other times against her. The power of the steam-
machinery is, therefore, applied to counteract these re¬
tarding forces, and to maintain a certain amount of pro¬
gressive motion in the ship, depending upon the resistance
on the one hand, and the power of the engines on the
other.
The resistance offered by the water to the passage of the
hull must be divided into two parts; firstly, that due to the
dividing and displacing of the water, to make room for the
hull of the ship to pass through (which is analogous to
scooping out a long trough or canal, of the full breadth of
the ship); and, secondly, the resistance arising from the
friction of the water upon the sides and bottom of the vessel.
Of these resistances, the first is by much the more serious,
although the second must not be overlooked. The resist¬
ance offered to the passage of the hull depends mainly
upon the area of the immersed midship-section of the ship,
(or its greatest cross-section), but also very materially upon
the form of the vessel’s lines under the water. There is
considerable discrepancy of opinion as to the relative value
of these two functions of the ship; one naval constructor
relying for speed upon a small immersed midship-section,
while another holds that fine lines for dividing and closing
the water are still more essential. The lines of a ship un¬
doubtedly exert a great influence upon her speed, as has
been shown experimentally in numerous instances. In
the case of the Government dispatch-boat, Flying Fish,
(already referred to at page 660), this vessel, of 1050 tons
displacement, attained a speed of only 11*73 knots, with
1166 indicated horse-power. That performance did not
equal the expectations of the Admiralty authorities ; and
without making any variation in the other parts of the
vessel, they added, not a new bow, but an elongated bow,
18 feet in length, in advance of the original one, to divide
the water more freely. The result was, that with the same
draught of water, the velocity of the vessel increased from
IT73 knots to \2'o5 knots an hour.
Mr J. Scott Russell, in the course of a discussion on this
subject at the Institution of Civil Engineers,1 has given
some very interesting results of experiments, all tending to
show that the shape of the vessel has a very decided in¬
fluence upon her speed, irrespective of her engine-power.
He relates that he had, on one occasion, the control of
four timber ships of the same dimensions, the same displace¬
ment, and the same horse-power; but each had different
lines, being constructed by different ship-builders. The
engines were all alike, being made by the same firm.
The result was that, upon a run of 16 miles, their several
speeds were 12^, 12, under 11, and between 10 and 11
miles an hour. In another instance, a steamer, constructed to
go both ways, but built with one end finer than the other as
an experiment, went fully a knot faster one way than the Steam Na-
other, although the midship-section and the horse-power vigation.
were necessarily identical at all times. A third case was
the following:—Two vessels were built of the respective
lengths of 190 feet and 186 feet, their breadths being equal.
The engines were the same in each, the cylinders being
48 inches diameter and 4 feet 6 inches in stroke, making
39 revolutions per minute. The speed attained by the first
vessel, however, was 15'03 knots, while that of the second
was but 1T32 knots. The difference in the two vessels
cpnsisted mainly in the shape, the other and minor elements
being much in favour of the slower vessel. For instance,
the faster vessel had 124 feet of midship-section, whilst
the slower vessel had but 71 feet of midship-section to
drag through the water. The faster vessel drew 6 feet 8
inches of water, whilst the slower vessel drew only 2 feet
10 inches. The difference in length was only 4 feet, yet
a radical difference in shape thus reduced the velocity,
with equal power, from 15 knots to 11 knots per hour.
Colonel Beaufoy’s experiments determined the resist¬
ance of the water to a ship with a square head only, and it
has since been found that a semicircular or round head
offers two-thirds of the resistance derived from his formula
= and an elliptical head considerably less.2 By
making the bow still finer, the resistance had been gra¬
dually reduced to one-sixth, and one-eighth, of that given
by the formula; and Mr Scott Russell believes that the
engine-power required to drive a large vessel through the
water has now, in some cases, been reduced as low as one-
twelfth. We learn from the same authority (the highest,
indeed, which it is possible to adduce on this subject), that
with a vessel of proper form, measuring about 1500 tons,
the resistance of a ship can be reduced to 50 lb. per square
foot of immersed midship-section, while steaming at the
rate of 10 knots an hour. This is the direct resistance of
the water upon the hull, and Mr Scott Russell asserts
that he has thus been enabled to calculate confidently, to
within a quarter of a knot, the amount of steam-power ne¬
cessary to propel a given ship at a given speed, basing the
calculation upon his own peculiar form of “ wave-line,” there
being necessarily a shape for every speed. For instance,
when a speed of 10 knots an hour was desired, he provided
engine-power for 50 lb. per square foot of immersed mid¬
ship-section (exclusive of the resistance of the machinery,
which brought it up to 65 lb. per square foot), for a vessel
of about 1500 tons, built on the “ wave-line” construction.
These figures, 50 lb. and 65 lb., are gross resistances, and
include friction of skin.
With regard to the absorption of power by the friction of Frictional
the skin, it is seen by every day’s experience how much a resistance,
vessel will fall oft’ in speed by the fouling of her bottom.
This often amounts to a loss of one-fifth of her original
speed, the engine-power exerted remaining the same, so
that, under these circumstances, double the power would be
required to attain the same speed as before. The total
immersed surface of the Rattler’s hull has been calculated
at 7000 square feet, and according to Beaufoy’s experi¬
ments on the friction of immersed surfaces, the resistance
thus arising would be eight-tenths of a pound per square
foot for a speed of 10 knots an hour, and nearly 1 lb. per
square foot at 11 knots. At the speed and friction first
named, the power absorbed would be equivalent to nearly
170 i.h.p., the total i.h.p. of the engines amounting to
428 h.p. only. In the case of the Himalaya, an im¬
mersed surface of about 18,000 square feet is exposed, the
friction from which, at a velocity of 13 knots an hour,
1 See Transactions of Institute of Civil Engineers, Session 1856—57.
2 In the formula in the above sentence a represents the midship-section in square feet, v the velocity of the vessel in linear feet per
second, g the accelerating force of gravity = 32J and w the weight of a cubic foot of sea water at GlJ lb. avoirdupois.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
663
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Effect of
increased
length.
would absorb about 6o0 i.h.p., supposing the bottom to
be perfectly clean.
The consideration of frictional resistance, of course, places
a limit to increase of length in a steamer, although many
instances have occurred in which the vessel has gone as
fast, or very nearly as fast, with the same engines, and on the
same draught of water, after some 30 or 40 feet have been
added in midships. The Candia is a remarkable instance
of this, as will be seen by the following comparison of her
speed when originally built, and after she was lengthened
in midships by 33| feet, her load displacement being thereby
increased about 470 tons:—
Although in this instance, from some unexplained cause
(owing possibly to improved trim, or circumstances of wind
and sea), it would appear from the trial trips that a con¬
siderable increase of length has been obtained without any
corresponding absorption of power, there must necessarily
be a limit where further extension of length is more than
neutralized by increased frictional resistance.
Law of re- It is universally admitted that the gross resistances (direct
distance, and frictional) to which a vessel is subject increase as the
square of the velocity, and therefore, as a necessary conse¬
quence, the power expended in producing this velocity
varies as the cube of the velocity. For instance, if the
resistance to one square foot of midship-section propelled
through the water at 5 miles an hour be 5 lb., then the
resistance at 10 miles an hour would be four times 5, or 20
lb. But the latter resistance has acted over double the
space, so that the result must be again doubled for the
measure of the power expended; and hence the power
developed in one hour must necessarily and unavoidably
Relation of be as the cube of the velocity. This rule cannot be ex¬
power to pected to hold strictly good in all steamers alike, looking
velocity. t0 tjle great diversity of form and displacement which exists,
but in the great majority of cases it is fully borne out in
practice. Thus, in H.M. screw-steamer Desperate, the
following relation between power and speed was found to
obtain:—
Indicated
Horse-
Power.
Knots.
Coal per
I.H.P.
p. hour.
With 4 boilers and 4 cylinders 
With 3 boilers and 4 cylinders, work- 1
ing expansively  J
With 2 boilers and 4 cylinders, do. ..
With 1 boiler and 2 cylinders, do. ..
805-89
57932
363-87
169-32
9-15
8-25
7-35
5-98
lbs.
4'61
5-13
5-58
5-89
The Retribution, paddle-wheel steamer, had a speed of
KM knots with 1092 i.h.p., and a speed of 6’22 knots
with 226 i.h.p. The Onyx, with 2 boilers and 533 i.h.p.,
realized a speed of 13T6 knots, whilst with one boiler and
158 i.h.p. the speed was 8'6 knots. The Minx, with 234
i.h.p., made 9-14 knots, and with 31'6 i.h.p. 4-51 knots.
These, and many other instances, are all in accordance
with the rule, that the power and consumption of fuel vary
as the cube of the velocity.
Practical The practical value of this rule will be made apparent by
examples, the following examples:—
1. If it be wished to find the speed corresponding to a diminished
consumption of fuel for any particular steam-vessel, the calculation
will be effected thus:—The vessel, we will suppose, has engines
which propel her at the rate of 12 knots, with a consumption of 35
tons of coal per diem, and we wish to find the speed corresponding Steam Na-
to a consumption of 25 tons per diem; then— vigation.
35:25 :: 121 * 3 : V3 (cube of required velocity).
When reduced, 7 : 5 :: 1728 : V3
As an equation, 5 x 1728 = 7 V3;
or, 8640
— = V"
3    *
And V1234 =. V3 10-726 knots = V, the required velocity.
It is thus seen, that by reducing the consumption of fuel by 10
tons per diem, we lose in this instance about 1J knot per hour.
2. If it be wished to increase the speed of the vessel, on the other
hand, from 9 to 11 knots, and we desire to know the increased con¬
sumption attending the increase of speed, this will be in the propor¬
tion of 93 to ll3, or as the numbers 729 : 1331, or as 1 : 1-825.
All we have to do, therefore, is to multiply the present consump¬
tion by this latter number.
3. If a certain steamer consumes, say 220 tons of coal, during a
run of 1600 miles, performed at the average speed of 11 knots per
hour, and we wish to find her probable consumption of coal for a
longer voyage of 2400 miles, at a reduced speed of 9 miles, the
calculation will then be as follows:—
220 tons coal : C (required consumption) :: ll2 knots X 1600 :
92 knots X 2400 miles,
Then C x 121 x 1600 = 220 x 81 x 2400;
or, C x 193,600 = 42,768,000.
Reduced toC =—- = 220"9 tons, required consumption.
It is thus seen that the consumption of fuel is almost exactly equal
in these two cases, showing that the same vessel would steam 1600
miles at 11 knots, or 2400 miles at 9 knots, with the same quantity
of coals.
4. Supposing that we have a steamer with stowage-room for only
460 tons of coal, which she has nearly expended during a trip of
1800 miles, while steaming at the speed of 11-5 knots an hour, and
we wish to place her upon another station, where she must run
2500 miles without coaling, it is required to find at what reduced
speed she must steam so as not to run short of coals ?
tons. knots. knots. tons, knots.
460 x 11-52 x 1800 = 460 x 2500 x V2 required velocity;
or, 460 x 132-25 x 1800 = 460 x 2500 x V2;
reduced to 109-503 = 1150 V2;
TT„ 109503
or’v = IW^ 9504*
Therefore, V — ^95-04 = 9 75 knots, required velocity.
We thus find that the same vessel which ran 1800 miles at a speed
of 11-5 knots, and with a consumption of 460 tons of coal, must re¬
duce her speed to 9f knots, to enable her to run 2500 miles with
the same consumption.
The preceding examples all show that an increase of speed Efficiency
is obtained only by the expenditure of a very great increase of a
of power. Hence, to draw even the most superficial com-8teamer-
parison between the efficiency of different steam-vessels,
their speeds must first be reduced to a common standard,
and the relation must then be found between the consump¬
tion of fuel at the standard speed, and the size or tonnage
of the vessel, the maximum speed of each being treated as
a separate question. The value of the term efficiency also
varies so much for different classes of vessels, that steamers
of the same class only can be justly compared together. The
number of tons displacement that 100 gross or indicated
horse-power will propel, at the rate of 10 knots an hour,
has been proposed as a standard of comparison between
different steamers.
A vessel, for instance, is known to have a speed of 12 Modes of
knots an hour, the engines exerting 1620 indicated horse-Cl,mPari'
power, at a displacement of 2240 tons. son-
Then, as 12 knots : 10 knots :: 3^1620 h.p. : 3/^lnd. h.p. required;
or, 1728 : 1000 :: 1620 : 937-5;
and 937-5 : 2240 :: 100 : 238-9 = tons displacement propelled by
100 I.H.P., at 10 knots an hour.
By making similar calculations for other vessels, their rela¬
tive efficiency may be, to a certain extent, compared one
with the other. It is found, in practice, however, that the
form of the vessel influences the ratio existing, theoreti¬
cally, between the power exerted and the resulting speed.
664
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Formulae
for deter¬
mining
steamship
perform¬
ances.
Proportion
of horse¬
power to
tonnage.
Main ele¬
ments of
steamship
economy.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Thus, in the Flying Fish, before she was altered, an in¬
crease of only 1-68 knots in the speed of the ship was
obtained by doubling the indicated horse-power; but after
a fine bow was fitted, she gained 2*452 knots by doubling
the power, the latter increase of speed being just propor¬
tional to the cube of the extra power exerted.
A formula frequently employed in comparing the relative merits
of vessels is V3 D which is thus expressed in words:—The cube of
I.H.P. ’
the speed in knots, multiplied by the square of the cube-root of
the displacement, and divided by the indicated horse-power. The
resultant number is called the co-efficient of dynamic duty for that
particular steamer, and forms a criterion of the cost at which she
performs her work, the higher the co-efficient the greater being
the economy. In a steamer of good average performance, the co¬
efficient, as calculated by this rule, should lie between 250 and 320,
or thereabouts.
As the preceding formula does not take note of the area of im¬
mersed midship-section, the following is also useful as a means of
vs x
comparison: ThHP^ '
The two formulae next to be given are used indiscriminately for
estimating the probable speed of a steamer, viz.—
jj0i  v3 = or) when expressed in words, the cube
of the velocity equals the square-root of the nominal horse-power,
multiplied by the diameter of the cylinder in inches, divided by
the square of the cube-root of the displacement.
No. 2.—V2 = 3 I.H.P. X 100
mid. sect.
The speed of the Candia, when measured by the first of these
rules, is 11'38 knots, and by the second, 11-28 knots; while her
actual speed, under the same conditions of displacement, &c., is
11-93 knots. In the same way the speed of the Pera, by the first
rule, is 11-22; by the second, 11-28; and actual, 12-55 knots. The
actual speed, in both of these cases, is therefore in excess of that
calculated by the formulae.
In proportioning the horse-power of a steamer, the fact
must be borne in mind that the effective power of the
engines increases in a higher ratio than simply as the ton¬
nage, since the resistance varies as the square of the cube
root of the tonnage. Thus, if a vessel of 1200 tons and
400 horse-power have a speed of 12 knots, a similarly con¬
structed vessel of 1650 tons and 550 horse-power (with the
same proportion of power to tonnage), ought to have a
considerably higher speed, since the square of the cube
root of 1200 being 112*78, and the square of the cube root
of 1650 being 139-47, the proportion will then be 112*78 :
400 : : 139*47 : 494*6 horse-power, instead of 550 horse¬
power.
The proportion of horse-power to tonnage recommended
for different classes of ocean steamships may be stated as
follows:—For full-powered passenger paddle-steamers of
from 500 to 1200 tons (builders’ O.M.), 1 horse-power to
3 tons ; for ditto, of from 1200 to 3000 tons, 1 horse¬
power to 4 tons ; for full-powered passenger screw-steamers
of from 500 to 1200 tons, 1 horse-power to 4 tons ; for
ditto, of from 1200 to 3000 tons, 1 horse-power to 5 tons;
for auxiliary screw-steamers, 1 horse-power to 6, 7, or 8
tons, according to size.
It must not be supposed that a steamer can, or ever will
be constructed by the sole aid of “ formulae,” which are
themselves, for the most part, empirical. I hey serve, how¬
ever, to assist in estimating the value and tendency of the
several proportions and attributes of the structure, a wide
margin being left for the exercise of practical sagacity and
experience on the part of the constructor. To sum up, in
a few words, the main elements upon which economy in
steam navigation seems to depend, these are—a fine form,
a moderate speed, considerable magnitude, a clean bottom,
and a high ratio of length to breadth; to which may be
added, effective engines, and a properly proportioned pro- Steam Na.
peller. Again, after the naval constructor and engineer vigation.
have each done their best, much still remains for the skill Vs—
of the commander and officers of the ship.
With regard to the relative proportions of the hull, our
fastest and most successful ocean merchant-steamers of the
present day have their length and breadth as 7, 7*5, or
even 8 to 1 for iron screw-steamers, wooden hulls being propor-
generally confined to 6*5 and 7 times the beam. The pro- tions of
portion of depth varies very much, but this should never length,
exceed eight-tenths of the breadth, and is better limited ^eadth
to six-tenths. A very deep steamer is always unweatherly an el,t •
and unmanageable, and often dangerous. The proportions
in actual use will be seen by inspecting the tables of
steamers in the royal navy, and the table of merchant-
steamers, at pages 669, 670, 671.
With reference to the management of steamers at sea, a yianage.
full-powered passenger-steamer is generally so tied to time ment of a
that she cannot afford to disuse any portion of her steam- steamer at
power, contenting herself with expanding more or less in sea.
the cylinders, according as the wind and sea are propitious
or otherwise. Every opportunity of a fair wind, however,
should be eagerly seized for hoisting sail, which, in the case
of a screw-steamer especially, affords a great addition to
the power of the engines. Steam-vessels of war, on the
other hand, are expressly designed to sail well, in addition
to their steaming powers; and in estimating the perfor¬
mance of a Government steamer, we should rather look to
the direct distance run by the combined action of steam
and sails, at a moderate but uninterrupted speed, and with
a small consumption of fuel, than to the attainment of a
high velocity, which is seldom wanted in war-steamers. In
steaming against a strong head wind, with a paddle-wheel
steamer of moderate steam-power, it is found preferable to
keep the vessel in a direct course as long as possible ; but,
so soon as her head begins to fall off for want of good
steerage way, the fore and aft sails should be set, and the
vessel tacked, the engines being kept working. In the
screw-steamer, on the other hand, there is no economy in
keeping a direct course against a head wind and sea, after
her speed is reduced to three or four knots an hour, since
the engines keep up their usual number of revolutions, and
the steam is mostly wasted in slip, or during the “racing”
of the machinery. In such a case, therefore, the ship’s
course should be altered, and the sails set to assist the screw,
so soon as the speed falls to this amount. In paddle-wheel
engines, the waste of steam is not so great while going
head to wind, since the revolutions decrease with the
speed of the vessel. When a vessel is steaming against an
opposing stream or tide, it is found that her engine-power
is most economically applied when she goes half as fast
again as the velocity of the stream. Notwithstanding the
many undoubted improvements which have been recently
introduced in the application of the screw propeller, and
the extended experience we have now had of its operation
in different classes of ships, and under every variety of trial,
the position which it holds in the merchant service, either
as an antagonist to the paddle-wheel in full-powered
Fig. 32.
Paddle-steamer for the rivers of India.
steamers, or as an auxiliary to the sails in sailing ships, is
still far from being well defined.
STEAM NAVIGATION. 665
Steam Na- Before bringing this article to a close, it is proposed to
vigation. give a few examples of steam-vessels which have either
proved unusually successful, and may, therefore, stand as
types of their class, or have some peculiarity of structure
which seems to point them out for special notice.
1. Duke of Wellington, 131 guns, steamship of the line, is
240 feet 6 inches long between perpendiculars, and 60 feet broad.
Tonnage, 3826, builders’ o.M. Has two horizontal, geared, screw-
engines. Diameter of cylinders, 94J inches, and 4 feet 6 inches
stroke. Nominal H.P., 780; indicated do., 2500. Machinery by
Robert Napier & Sons, of Glasgow. Has 4 tubular boilers, each
containing 5 furnaces of the following dimensions, viz.'—7 feet 4
inches long + 2 feet 9 J inches wide ; the total space occupied by
the machinery being 70 feet in length. The diameter of the screw
shaft next the engines is 12J inches. The screw itself is double
threaded, 18 feet diameter, 16 feet 3 inches pitch, and 3 feet 4
inches long. The driving-wheel of screw-gearing is 10 feet 6 inches
diameter, working into a pinion (with wooden cogs), 4 feet 6 inches
diameter, and 4 feet 5 inches broad. The speed of the vessel at
her trial trip was 10-2 knots.
2. Mersey, 40 guns, screw steam-frigate, is 300 feet long be¬
tween perpendiculars, and 52 feet beam. Tonnage, 3726 ; nominal
H.P., 1000 ; indicated H.P., 4000. Makers of the machinery, J. Penn
and Son. Pressure of steam, 20 lb.; mean number of revolutions of
engines (direct), 55^. Screw, diameter, 20 feet; pitch, 29 feet;
immersion at trial, 6 inches; revolutions of screw, 55^. Draught
of water of ship, forward, 20 feet 8 inches; aft, 22 feet 7 inches.
Coals on board, 850 tons ; consumption of fuel at full speed, about
140 tons per day of 24 hours. Number of furnaces, 32; length of
stoke-hole, 68 feet lOinches; breadth of ditto, 10 feet; temperature
of ditto, 100° Fahr. The tops of the boilers are 4 feet under the
water-line; fitted with three auxiliary engines, two of which supply
the boilers, and the third acts as a steam fire-engine. Weight
of shot fired by one broadside, 1652 lb. Speed at trial, 13 29
knots.
3. Rattler, screw-sloop, 179 feet 6 inches long between per¬
pendiculars ; 32 feet 8^ inches beam ; 888 tons builders’ O.M.; 13
feet 6 inches mean draught of water at trial; area of immersed
midship-section, 330 square feet; displacement at trial, 1078 tons ;
nominal H.P., 200 ; ditto, indicated, 436; diameter of cylinders,
four of 40’ inches each ; length of stroke, 4 feet. Revolutions dur¬
ing trial, 27. Diameter of screw, 10 feet; pitch, 11 feet; length,
1 foot 3 inches ; multiple of gearing, 4:1; revolutions of screw per
minute, 107'9; slip per cent., 17-67. Description of engines,
vertical geared. Makers of the machinery,Maudslay, Sons, and Field.
Maximum speed of the vessel at trial, 10 knots.
4. Growler, screw gun-boat. Length between perpendiculars,
100 feet; breadth, 22 feet; draught of water, mean, 6 feet 10^
inches; immersed midship-section at this draught, 130 square feet;
horse-power—nominal, 60; indicated, 200 ; high pressure engines
working direct, with 2 cylinders, each 15^ inches in diameter, and 18
inches stroke. Makers of the machinery, Maudslay, Sons, and Field.
Pressure of steam, 50 to 60 lb.; weight of engines, 8 tons 14 cwt.
Boilers, 3 in number, are cylindrical, with internal tubes. Length
of boilers, 15 feet 4 inches x 4 feet diameter, with one furnace in
each, 2 feet 2 inches broad x 4 feet 6 inches long. Each boiler
contains 82 iron tubes, 2 inches in diameter and 8 feet long. Total
grate-bar surface in the three boilers, 29’25 square feet; weight of
the three boilers complete, 13 tons 1 cwt.; weight of water in the
three boilers, 9 tons. Screw, two-threaded, 6 feet diameter ; 8 feet
pitch; 16 inches long; weight, 840 lb. Total weight of the machinery
with spare gear, 32J tons. Coals carried in bunkers, 28 tons.
Speed at above immersion, 8'38 knots ; speed of engines and screw,
154 revolutions per minute; slip, 31 per cent.
5. Warrior, iron-cased steam-frigate, is built of iron; extreme
length, 380 feet; breadth, 58 feet; depth, 41 feet 6 inches ; tonnage,
6177. Weight of hull, about 5700 tons; fitted with engines of
1250 nominal horse-power, weighing 950 tons. Builders of the ship,
the Thames Iron Co.; makers of the machinery, J. Penn & Son.
She will carry 950 tons of coal, and the weight of armament, masts,
stores, &c., will amount to about 1200 tons. The total weight at
sea will thus be about 9000 tons. Sheathed with wrought-iron
armour-plates 4J inches thick from 5 feet below the water-line to
the level of the upper deck for 220 feet of the broadside, each plate
being 15 feet long by 4 feet broad. Behind the iron armour-plates
there is a thickness of 24 inches of teak, protecting all the fighting
portion of the vessel. The bow and stern are not thus sheathed,
being merely plated with thick iron plates in the usual way, and
crossed by several water-tight bulkheads. Armament will consist
of Armstrong guns, each capable of throwing a 100 lb. shot a dis¬
tance of 5 miles. The total cost of each frigate will be about
L.320,000. Estimated speed, 14 knots an hour.
VOL. XX.
6. Victoria and Albert, H.M. steam-yacht, is built of tim-gt;eam
ber, and has the following dimensions :—Length between the per- vitiation
pendiculars, 200 feet 1 inch; breadth of beam, 33 feet; depth *,
of hold, 23 feet 9 inches; burthen in tons, builders’ O.M. 2343; v^
horse-power, noninal, 600; horse-power, indicated, at trial 2980.
Propelled by paddle-wheels. Has oscillating engines by J. Penn and
Son, with two cylinders, each 88 inches in diameter and 7 feet
stroke, the total weight of her machinery being 401J tons. Her
draught of water when complete for sea, with stores and coals on
board, is 15 feet forward and 15 feet 9 inches aft. Revolutions of
engines at this draught, 22; displacement at medium load-draught,
2120 tons. Has four tubular boilers, containing in all 3024 brass
tubes, each 6 feet 5 inches long by 2? inches external diameter.
The boilers have altogether, 24 furnaces, each 7 feet long by 3 feet
wide, fired from two stoke-holes. The pressure of steam on the
safety-valves is 20 lb. The steam is superheated ; has two funnels,
each 5 feet 6 inches diameter, and 40 feet 3 inches high from top
of boiler. The coal-boxes contain 410 tons of coal. The paddle-
wheels are feathering, 29 feet extreme diameter, 14 boards to each
wheel, each board 11 feet 6 inches by 4 feet 2 inches. The wheels
can be disconnected by a friction-disc and break. Speed at trial
trip, 17-022 knots.
7. Fairy, H.M.’s screw steam-yacht, is built of iron, and has
the following dimensions :—Length between the perpendiculars,
144 feet 8 inches; breadth extreme, 21 feet 1£ inches; mean
draught of water at trial, 4 feet 10 inches ; area of immersed mid¬
ship-section, 71-5 square feet; mean displacement at trial, 168 tons.
Tonnage, builder’s o.M., 312; nominal horse-power, 128 ; indicated
horse-power, 364. Builders, Mare & Co.; machinery by J. Penn &
Son. Diameter of screw, 5 feet 4 inches; pitch, 8 feet; length, 1
foot. Revolutions of screw at trial, 258 per minute; slip of the
screw, 34 per cent. Has two vertical, oscillating, geared engines,
the cylinders 42 inches diameter, and 3 feet stroke, making 511 re¬
volutions per minute. Speed of the vessel at trial, 13-324 knots.
8. Himalaya, steam troop-ship, propelled by the screw, is built
of iron, and has the following dimensions:—Length between the
perpendiculars, 341 feet; breadth, extreme, 46 feet 4 inches; depth
of hold, 35 feet; tonnage, 3560.; horse-power, nominal, 700. Has
horizontal direct engines, with cylinders 84f inches diameter,
and 3 feet 6 inches stroke, making 59 revolutions per minute.
Boilers on Lamb and Summer’s sheet-flue principle. Pressure of
steam, 14 lb. She can stow 1000 tons of coal; her daily consump¬
tion, at full speed, being 70f tons. Fitted with the common
3-bladed screw, 18 feet diameter, by 28 feet pitch, making 59
revolutions per minute. Speed at trial, 13'9 knots. This steamer
has proved eminently successful, having made the trip from Eng¬
land to Alexandria, on several occasions, at an average speed of
12 knots an hour; and with a favourable breeze, she has been
known to run 16 knots within the hour.
9. Troop River-steamers for India. These are now being
built for Government of the following proportions:—Length on
the water-line, 350 feet; length over all, 375 feet; breadth, 46
feet. Built of steel-plates, weighing about 5 lb. per superficial
foot, with the exception of the keel-strakes, which are 7 lb., and
the girder-strakes 15 lb. per square foot. They are flat-bottomed,
to draw only 2 feet of water, with machinery, fuel, stores, and
800 troops on board. The hulls are estimated to weigh only 370
tons. They are to be propelled by paddle-wheel engines of 200
horse-power. They will be steered by two large patent steering-
blades. The hull is stiffened by two iron girders, rising above the
deck, and running for 300 feet of the length, from which vertical
and diagonal trusses are carried. They will be sent to India in
parts, after being put together and tried in this country. Esti¬
mated speed, 12 miles an hour.
10. Great Eastern, of iron. Length between theperpendiculars,
680 feet; lengthen deck, 691 feet; breadth, extreme, 83feet; depth
of side, 58 feet; draught of water, from 20 to 30 feet. Gross tonnage,
22,500. Nominal horse-power, 2600. Builder, J. Scott Russell. Her
screw-engines of 1600 horse-power, by James Watt and Company;
and paddle-engines of 1000 horse-power, by J. Scott Russell. The
screw-engines are horizontal direct, with 4 cylinders, each 84
inches diameter, by 4 feet stroke, making 45 strokes per minute;
with tubular boilers, carrying 25 lb. pressure. The screw is of
the common construction, with 4 blades, 24 feet diameter, with a
pitch of 44 feet. The paddle-wheel engines are oscillating, with
4 cylinders, each 74 inches diameter, by 14 feet stroke. Boilers,
tubular, 25 lb. pressure. Paddle-wheels are of the common construc¬
tion, 50 feet diameter, 13 feet length of floats, and 3 feet depth.
Total coals carried, 10,000 tons. Speed about 15 knots. Her ship-
draught is shown in the plates illustrating article Ship-Building.
11. Persia, transatlantic mail-steamship, of iron, has the fol¬
lowing dimensions :—Length between the perpendiculars, 360 feet;
breadth of beam, 45 feet; depth of hold, 29 feet 8 inches. Medium
load-draught of water, 21-5 feet. Displacement at this draught,
4 P
666
Steam Na¬
vigation.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
5285 tons. Area of immersed midship-section, 818 square feet.
Tonnage, builders’ O.M., 3586. Builders of vessel and makers of
the machinery, Robert Napier and Sons The bottom plates of the
hull are « inch thick, tapering to f inch at the load water-line,
and above this U inch, except round the gunwale, where they are
l inch The hull is divided into 7 water-tight compartments,
Ind has a double iron bottom for a considerable portion of her
length The launching weight of the iron hull was 2200 tons,
her displacement with machinery, coals, and stores on board being
about 5400 tons, on a draught of 23 feet. Accommodation is pro¬
vided for 250 passengers (besides a crew of 150 persons), and
stowage room is found for 1200 tons measurement goods. Coals
carried are 1400 tons. The engines are on the side-lever construc¬
tion, with 2 cylinders, each 100J inches diameter, and 10 feet
stroke 850 nominal horse-power, and about 3000 indicated horse¬
power’. Diameter of paddle-shaft, 23| inches. There are 8 tubular
boilers, containing, in all, 40 furnaces, each 7 feet long by 2 feet
9 inches wide. Total length occupied by the machinery is 107 feet
6 inches. The paddle-wheels are of the common construction,
38 feet 6 inches diameter to extremity of boards, which are 10 feet
8 inches long, 2 feet 1 inch broad, on 28 arms. On the occasion of
the Persia’s trial trip from Glasgow to Liverpool, she ran 175
knots in 10 hours 43 minutes ; thus accomplishing an average
speed of 16 knots, or nearly 19 British statute miles an hour.
12. Pera, Alexandria mail screw-steamship, is of iron, and has
the following dimensions :—Length between the perpendiculars,
303 feet 7 inches ; breadth extreme, 42 feet 3 inches ; depth of
hold, 27 feet 2 inches ; gross tonnage, 2613; nominal horse-power,
450 ; indicated horse-power, 1500. Builders of the vessel, Mare
and Company ; makers of the machinery, Messrs Rennie. She has
vertical trunk-engines, geared, with 2 cylinders each 70i inches
diameter (trunk 30 inches diameter), and 4 feet length of stroke.
Strokes of engine per minute, 29J. There are four sheet-flue
boilers: pressure of steam 16 lb., superheated. 700 tons of coal
are carried in boxes; coals burned per day of 24 hours, 44 tons
(in place of 56 before superheating apparatus was fitted). Screw
propeller has 3 blades, is 15 feet 6 inches diameter, 21 feet pitch,
making 60 revolutions per minute. Speed at trial trip, 12'5 knots.
The Pera has made some very remarkable passages. Thus, in the
month of July 1859, she ran from Southampton to Gibraltar, 1000
miles in 3 days 21 hours (being at the rate lOf knots per hour) ;
thence to Malta, another 1000 miles, in 3 days 12 hours (11-9 knots
per hour); and from Malta to Alexandria, 1000 miles, in 2 days
19 hours (14-92 knots per hour). The Peru’s lines are shown in
the plates of article Shif-Building. Tt i j
13. Leinster, Ulster, Munster, Connaught, new Holyhead
mail-packets, are of iron, and propelled by paddle-wheels. They
have the following dimensions: — Length extreme, 350 feet;
breadth, 35 feet; depth, 20 feet; draught of water, 12 to 13 feet;
tonnage, 2000; nominal horse-power, 700 ; indicated horse-power
(estimated), 3500. Average speed contracted for, 20 miles an hour.
The engines are oscillating, and the paddle-wheels have feathering
floats. °Three of Aie vessels are built by Messrs Laird, and one by
Messrs Samuda ; and the machinery is by Messrs Ravenhill, Salkeld
and Company, and Messrs James Watt and Company. They will
be rigged very lightly, for fore and aft sails only, their great
engine-power making them independent of the wind. They have
9 water-tight bulkheads, extending to the upper deck one of
which divides the engine and boiler rooms ; this latter bulkhead
constituting an important element of safety and strength, w ic
might be advantageously introduced into iron steamers mucj1 ln^e
frequently than it is. The cabins are 9 feet 6 inches high ; the __
principal saloon being 60 feet long. , ,
14. Bremen, screw-clipper steamship, is built of iron, and has
the following dimensions :-Length between the perpendiculars,
318 feet; breadth of beam, 40 feet; depth of hold, 26 feet; mean
draught of water at trial, 18 feet 6 inches. Displacement at this
draught, 3440 tons. Area of immersed midship-section, 606 square
feet. Rate of displacement at load draught, 25 tons per square
inch. Builders of the ship and makers of the machinery, Messrs
Caird and Company. The engines of the Bremen consist of two
direct-acting inverted cylinders, each 90 inches diameter and 3
feet 6 inches stroke. Nominal horse-power, 500 ; indicated horse¬
power at trial, 1624. Speed at trial trip, 13'15 knots per hour.
The average performance at sea, between Bremen and New Yor ,
with a mean displacement of 2950 tons, was found to be o
knots, the engines showing a mean indicated horse-power of 10 o.
The superiority shown by the Bremen is believed to be principally
due to her fine form of body, and judicious proportions. Her
ship-draught will be found amongst the plates illustrating the
article Ship-Building.
15. Windsor Castle, Clyde river-steamer, propelled by paddle-
wheels, is built of steel-plates, and has the following dimensions :
Length, 190 feet; breadth, 20 feet; depth, 7 feet 6 inches ; tonnage,
gross, 190; register, 93. Mean draught at trial, 3 feet 1 inch. Steam Na-
Immersed midship-section at this draught, 52 square feet. Ave- vigation.
rage number of revolutions, 43. Nominal horse-power, 115. In- ^ ^
dicated horse-power at trial, 620. Pressure of steam in the boilers,
40 lb. Builders of the vessel and makers of the machinery,
Messrs Caird and Company. The cylinders are placed diagonally ;
they are 40 inches in diameter and 5 feet stroke, cutting off steam
after 12 inches. The steam is supplied by an upright tubular
boiler, and is superheated in the funnel to a temperature of 375°
Fahr. before entering the cylinders. The boilers have 76 square
feet of fire-grate surface, and 1526 square feet of total heating sur¬
face, consuming about 20 cwt. of coal per hour. The paddle-
wheels are feathering, 15 feet diameter, each having 10 boards
8 feet long by 2 feet 3 inches broad. Speed at trial trip, 17-083
knots, or 19-679 British statute miles an hour. In this steamer
■weight is economized in every possible way, and only 10 tons of
coal are carried.
16. Tachtalia, river-steamer for shallow navigation, is built of
iron, and has the following dimensions :—Length, 150 feet; breadth,
20 feet; draught of water, with machinery and passengers on
board, 12£ inches. Builders of the vessel and makers of the ma¬
chinery, Messrs J. and A. Blyth. She is propelled by 4 condens¬
ing engines, of the collective power of 40 horses, acting through
4 paddle-wheels, each 6 feet in diameter and 6 feet wide; the
forward engines making 87 revolutions and the after engines 96
revolutions per minute, and the speed through still water being
about 11 miles per hour. The hull is formed of very thin plates,
stiffened by frequent transverse bulkheads, and webs of plate sur¬
rounding the vessel internally. By employing 2 pairs of paddle-
wheels, each pair driven by a distinct pair of steam-engines, not
only are the weights of the machinery, water, and coals diffused
over the vessel, but the propelling power is also widely distributed
over the structure. The use of 4 paddle-wheels in place of 2
greatly improves the steering of the vessel, always a matter of much
difficulty with boats of shallow draught running on swift rivers.
Lightness of machinery in this vessel is promoted by the substitu¬
tion of gun-metal for cast-iron in the condensers, &c., and of cast-
steel and wrought-iron for the framing of the engines. The
boilers are constructed of Lowmoor plates throughout, without
angle-irons, to save weight. Vessels of this class are well adapted
for the rivers of India. A representation of the Tachtalia is given
at page 664. . .
17. Screw-steamer for the rivers of India, built of iron.
Length, 70 feet; breadth, 7 feet 6 inches; depth, 3 feet 6 inches;
draught of water, 2 feet. Boat and machinery constructed by
Messrs G. Rennie and Sons. Propelled by two screws, one on each
quarter (see annexed wood engraving, fig. 33); diameter of the
Fig. 33.
Screw-steamer for the rivers of India.
screws, 2 feet 2 inches; pitch, 4 feet. Driven by a pair of disc
engines, acting direct. Speed of the engines and screws, 260 revo¬
lutions per minute. Speed of the boat, 10 knots per hour. Weight
of the boat, 3 tons 8 cwt.; weight of the machinery, 3 tons. Con¬
sumption of coal, per hour, 100 lb. Power of traction, at slow
speed, 250 tons. Cost of trackage, | of Id. per ton per mile. .
18. American Steamboats (by a correspondent of The En-
gineer).—1' Going aboard at a late hour in the evening, the scene
which presented itself to our eyes was novel in the highest degree.
Painted a pure white, as nearly all American river-steamboats are
(for the anthracite coal burned under their boilers makes no smoke
whatever), the enormous mass of the vessel rose like a giant ice¬
berg above the water. Hurrying over the broad gangway, we
found ourselves in a crowd of nearly 700 passengers, more than
one-third of whom were ladies. We were upon the main-deck,
although under a lofty ceiling, over which was a grand saloon ol
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- palatial proportions and magnificence. Looking aft, a broad en-
vigation. trance, flanked with gilded columns and luxurious drapery, opened
i ^ to the ladies’ saloon—a sanctum sanctorum not to be profaned by
the footsteps of a bachelor, although steamboat etiquette was not
so strict, nor steamboat regulations so inflexible, as to forbid the
momentary presence there of gentlemen accompanying their wives,
or other fair charges, to be intrusted to the care of the stewardess.
On either side of this entrance were broad staircases descending to
an immense lower cabin, along the sides of which were more than
400 berths. The supper tables were then set out with a degree of
splendour for which an English traveller would be altogether un¬
prepared. Nearly amidships, on the main-deck, a grand staircase,
sweeping both to the right and left, conducted to the great saloon,
or state-room hall, nearly 300 feet in length, several yards in width,
and having an upper gallery, with a second story of state-rooms—
a lofty arched ceiling, glazed with ground and coloured glass, and
supported by richly-carved columns, covering the whole. In its
construction this steamboat (the New World) is totally unlike any¬
thing ever seen in British waters. It is of enormous size. Origi¬
nally 376 feet long, it was afterwards lengthened to 468 feet over
all. With a breadth of beam of 50 feet, the main-deck is extended
by means of platforms, or “ guards,’’ projecting over the water to
the full width across the paddle-boxes, 85 feet, being thus wider
than the main-deck of the Great Eastern. Yet the vessel, which is
flat bottomed, with bilges nearly or quite square, draws only 5£
feet of water, the whole displacement being about 2500 tons, and
the immersed mid section 275 square feet. All American boats
have wooden hulls, and how to stiffen such a vast and shallow
craft, flat-bottomed as Noah’s Ark ? There are no tubular cells, no
‘ double skins,’ nor is there a hundredweight of boiler-plate, ex¬
cepting in the boilers themselves, in the whole structure. As if to
increase the strain, the boilers, weighing, with water, 75 tons each,
are placed upon the “ guards ” outside the hull, and of course seve¬
ral feet above the load-line. To make the whole as rigid as a tubu¬
lar girder, two enormous arched trusses, placed one over each side
of the hull, extend over nearly 350 feet of the length of the boat.
These great bows, like the arches of a bow-string bridge, are con¬
nected to king-posts and queen-posts, and strapped and fastened, so
that the whole is as stiff as a man-of-war. Then there are four or
five large king-posts, or masts, stepped upon the keel, and carrying
the weight of the projecting ‘guards’ by long diagonal tension
rods. These masts carry no spars, booms, or rigging of any kind,
all of which would be so much top hamper, worse than useless, at a
speed of 20 miles an hour. These posts, like nearly all the rest of
the wood-work, are painted a dazzling white, and surmounted by
gilded balls. The lines of the hull are very sharp, and at twenty-
two statute miles an hour, a speed not unfrequently attained, there
is only a thin spurt of water breaking into spray to mark the keen
entrance of the cutwater.”
W e subjoin a list of those parts which are considered
most necessary to be carried as spare gear for sea-going
paddle-wheel engines of a large class :—
100 bolts and nuts for paddle-wheels ; 50 bolts and nuts for
paddle-floats; 6 paddle-floats; 2 sets of gearing for paddle-floats
(feathering-wheels) ; 1 connecting-rod for ditto, ditto; 1 driving-
arm for ditto, ditto ; 4 large pins and 2 small for brackets, ditto;
2 radius boss pins for ditto, ditto ; 2 bushes for ditto, ditto ; 8 brass
washers for gearing, ditto ; 4 bolts and nuts for radius-boss, ditto ;
4 segments of paddle-centres; 4 arms for paddle-wheels; 18 iron
washer-plates; 2 brass linings for outer-bearings; 120 brushes for
boiler-tubes ; 36 stoking-irons ; 60 scrapers, circular and forked ;
1 set of stocks, taps, and dies, from ^ in 1J inch; 1 air-pump rod
and nut; 1 cylinder-cover, bush, and gland; 1 piston and rod; 1
piston -rod cap, complete ; 2 complete sets of all India-rubber valves;
£ set of fire-bars; 1 set of bearing-bars for one furnace; boiler¬
plate, about 6 or 8 cwt.; 60 boiler-tubes; 300 ferrules for boiler-
tubes ; 8 handles for boiler-tube brushes ; 24 drifts (short and long)
for tubing ; 12 mandrils for ditto; 1 crank-pin for engine; 1 ec¬
centric-band, complete ; 1 feed-pump rod, complete ; 1 bilge-pump
rod; 1 gross iron w'ashers of various sizes; 120 bolts and nuts;
8 glass guage-tubes for boilers; 2 glass tubes for barometers.
The following is a list of spare gear for screw-en¬
gines of a large class:—
1 Cylinder-cover, complete; 1 connecting-rod; 1 centre-bonnet,
for cylinder ; 1 air-pump rod; 1 piston and rod, complete ; 1 feed¬
pump rod ; 1 bilge-pump rod; 1 slide-rod, complete; 1 eccentric
strap, complete; 1 spiral-spring, for escape-valve ; 1 cross head ;
1 guide-block and brass (if so made), complete; 1 cap for thrust-
block, fitted with white metal; 2 screws for thrust-block; soft
metal bearings, various ; 2 complete sets of India-rubber valves; 1
wrench for piston-rod nuts ; 1 set of taps and dies, complete ; 50
bolts, assorted (iron and metal); 80 bolts and nuts (assorted) ; 40
spanners, various; J set of fire-bars ; 60 fire-irons, assorted; 110
scrapers (50 circular and 60 forked) ; 3 bearing-bars; 100 boiler-
tubes ; 300 ferrules for boiler-tubes ; 40 drifts and mandrils for
boiler-tubes ; 200 tube-brushes, and 4 handles; 140 washers for
boiler-tubes ; 3 boiler-plates ; 16 glass gauge-tubes, and 60 India-
rubber rings.
Actual Weights of Steam Machinery in the Royal Navy.
Name of the Vessel.
Nominal
Horse¬
power.
Engines
complete.
Boilers
and
apparatus.
Propeller
and
gear.
Coal-
boxes.
Sundries.
Spare
gear.
Total
weight of
machinery.
Grand
Total.
Mersey   
Shannon  
Melpomene  
Algiers 
Cornwallis 
Marlborough 
Royal Sovereign 
Victoria and Albert.
H.P.
1000
600
600
450
200
800
800
600
Tons.
213-4
84-
78-9
128-4
18-8
200-9
210-7
183-2
Tons.
263-7
128-6
135-9
169- 2
45-4
211-8
210-7
170- 4
Tons.
65-9
51-2
48-9
46-9
14-3
35-9
21-2
*73-3
Tons.
17-3
8-1
9-3
12-7
4-7
14- 8
11-6
15- 0
Tons.
25- 8
15-
23-8
13-5
9-6
37-
26- 7
31-7
Tons.
43-7
21-8
13-7
4-7
26-4
24-8
26-0
Tons.
629-8
308-7
310-5
370-8
97-5
526-8
505-8
499-6
Tons.
136
85
30
112
112
Tons.
765-8
455-8
127-5
638-8
617-8
* Paddles.
667
Steam Na¬
vigation.
DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES.
Plate XXIX. represents the usual type of the side-lever
marine-engine. The principal parts are—A the cylinder,
B the valve-chest, C the condenser, D the hot well, E the
air-pump, F the feed and bilge pumps, GG the great lever,
G its main gudgeon, H the cylinder side-rods, I the cross¬
head, K the piston-rod, LL the parallel motion, M the air-
pump cross-head, N the air-pump side-rods, O the air-pump
piston-rod, P the connecting-rod cross-tail links, Q the
cross-tail, R the connecting-rod, S the crank, U the
eccentric pulley or cam, uuu the eccentric-rod, V the
valve-shaft, WW the valve-lever and counterbalance lever.
The apparatus for working the valves expansively is
distinctly shown. On the crank-axle, T, is placed a series
of cams ttt, which act upon the roller of the expansion-
valve tumbler. Y yyy are the expansion-valve connect¬
ing-rods and levers. Z is the valve-chest, and the valve
is of the kind called equilibrium-valves, or crown-valves.
Plates XXX., XXXI., and XXXII. represent a pair of
direct screw-engines of 500 horse-power (nominal), as con¬
structed by Messrs Ravenhill, Salkeld, and Company, for
various ships in the royal navy. The following vessels have
been fitted with machinery on this plan, viz.—the Waterloo
and Nelson, 98 guns, 500 h.p. ; the Undaunted, Glasgow,
and Newcastle, 50-gun frigates, and 600 h.p.; the Nar¬
cissus, 50 guns, and the Jason, 21 guns, each of 400 h.p.
These engines have given much satisfaction, being at once
compact, and at the same time easy of access to all the work¬
ing parts.
The following are the principal dimensions of the 500-
horse screw-engines:—
668 S T E A M N A
Steam Na- Diameter of the cylinders (two)  71 inches.
vigation. Length of stroke  3 feet.
v. - — j Revolutions of engines and screw-shaft, per min. 50
Pressure of steam in the boilers per sq. inch  20 lb.
Diameter of the screw  18 feet.
Pitch of do. mean  20 feet.
Description of screw  Griffith’s.
Mean draught of the ship (H.M.S. Nelson)  24 ft. 9J in.
Speed at the measured mile  10 9 knots.
Indicated horse-power  2150 horses.
The various parts of the engines will be recognised by
reference to the following letters:—A A are the cylinders;
B the piston-rods, of which there are two to each cylinder;
C the connecting-rods, working between the guiding sur¬
faces DD, and giving motion to the main cranks EE; F is
the screw-shaft; G, the thrust-block, on which the thrust
of the screw is taken ; H the coupling for disconnecting
the shaft; I a worm-wheel for turning the engines by hand;
K the steam-pipe from the boilers; L the throttle-valve ;
M the expansion-valves; N the cylinder slide-valves; O
the exhaust-passages; P the condenser; Q the air-pump-
rods, which work direct from the piston, passing steam-
tight through the cylinder covers like small piston-rods.
The air-pumps themselves cannot be seen, being concealed
by the condenser. R the discharge-pipes ; S the feed and
bilge plunger pumps; T eccentrics and gear for working
the slide-valves.
Plates XXXIII. and XXXIV. represent the engines and
boilers of the screw-steamship Thunder, which are possessed
of several interesting peculiarities and appliances for eco¬
nomizing fuel and steam. The vessel (built by Messrs Lung-
ley of London) is of iron, 240 feet long, 30 feet beam, 22
feet 6 inches deep, and 1062 tons B.O.M. Her draught of
water is 13 feet 8 inches aft, and 10 feet 8 inches for¬
ward. The engines are constructed by Messrs Dudgeon,
of Millwall, London, and have the following dimensions :—
Diameter of cylinders (two)  55 inches.
Length of stroke   36 ,,
Revolutions of engines and screw per min  58
Diameter of screw  15 feet.
Pitch of screw  29J „
Nominal horse-power  210 horses.
Indicated horse-power with full steam  950 to 1000 „
Do., with expansion when cutting off after £th ... 696
Speed, with an immersed midship-section of 342
square feet and displacement of 1175 tons, the
engines making 54 revolutions per minute, and
cutting off steam after Jth of the stroke  14 knots.
Maximum speed at trial with full power   15 „
The cylinders of these engines are inverted, and are
fixed directly over the crank-shaft. They have separate
expansion-slides, and double-port steam-slides. The ex¬
haust is carried round the cylinders by broad belts (see O,
Plate XXXIII.), into the condenser P, the belts thus acting
as steam-jackets to the cylinders to preserve their tempera¬
ture. The condensers themselves form part of the framing
on which the cylinders stand. The shaft is forged with solid
cranks, and the thrust of the screw is taken by the long
collared bearing at C, which is supported independently of
the engine framing. The pressure of steam in the boilers
is 19 lb., the steam being cut off in the cylinders (when
working most expansively) after one-fourth of the stroke.
The letters of reference, previously given, indicate the
same portions of the machinery for this and all the remain¬
ing plates.
The boilers are tubular, two in number, with four fur¬
naces, and are fired from each end. Each boiler has 360
tubes, 3J inches external diameter, and 7 feet long. The
boilers are fitted with superheating apparatus (A), on Mr
Beardmore’s plan ; each consists of two steam-chambers,
placed one on each side of the chimney, connected by
172 tubes in each, each tube being 2 inches in diameter.
The lower end of the chimney is expanded so as to encase
VIGATION.
the tubes, through which all the steam from the boilers Steam Na-
passes on its way to the cylinders. These boilers gene- vigation.
rate steam with much facility. The advantage of having
two funnels in this case is, that the draught thus becomes
more direct, and therefore sharper than it would be with
one large funnel. The temperature of the superheated
steam is about 320°.
These engines have exhibited a very remarkable eco¬
nomy of fuel, the consumption, under favourable circum¬
stances, not exceeding lb. per i.h.p. per hour; and
when the vessel was deeply laden, this did not exceed from
2 to lb. during a ten days’ voyage at sea. The Thunder
ran from Plymouth to St Vincent in 9 days, 14 hours, the
chief engineer writing thus from the latter place:—“ We
have run 285 miles during the last 24 hours ; and our aver¬
age speed has been throughout the voyage 11 knots per
hour, on a consumption of 15 tons of coals per 24 hours.
P. •essure of steam 10 lb.; 44 revolutions per minute. Tem¬
perature of steam in superheaters, 310°.” This is equal to
a consumption of about 12 cwt. of coal per hour while steam¬
ing at the rate of 11 knots, which, for a displacement of 2000
tons, is an extraordinary result. Whilst on her trial trip
her displacement was only half the above, when, under the
most favourable circumstances, she went at the rate of 14
knots on a consumption of 8 cwt. per hour.
Plates XXXV. and XXXVI. represent a pair of “ com¬
bined-cylinder” paddle-wheel engines of 320 horse-power
collectively (nominal), as constructed by Messrs Randolph,
Elder, and Company, of Glasgow, in the steamships
Callao, Lima, and Bogota.
These vessels are 245 feet long, 36 feet broad, and 23
feet deep, and are designed with lines favourable for speed.
Their tonnage is 1650 tons; draught of water, 11 feet
forward, 12 feet aft; fitted with feathering wheels 25 feet
2 inches diameter.
The cylinders are four in number, viz., two of 52 inches
diameter, and two of 90 inches diameter, and 5 feet stroke.
It will be observed that they lie diagonally to each other.
During the trial trips the engines made from 23 to 26
revolutions per minute, and indicated from 1000 to 1300
horse-power, the pressure of steam being 26 lb., and the
speed of the ships from 12£ to 13 knots per hour. The
boilers are tubular, and superheat the steam in the steam-
chests by contact with the up-takes only, these being pur¬
posely divided and prolonged with this view. The cylinders
are further provided with “ jackets” kept well supplied with
hot steam, to guard against condensation within the cylinders.
These engines have also been attended with a remark¬
able economy of fuel. The Bogota lately ran from Glas¬
gow to St Vincent, a distance of 2470 nautical miles, in
9 days 21 hours, on a consumption of 232 tons of coal,
thus giving an average speed of 10’42 knots, on a con¬
sumption of 19 cwt. per hour. The average i.h.p. being
950, this gives an average of 2£ lb. of coal per i.h.p. per
hour.
Plate XXXVII. represents a pair of combined-cylinder
engines of the same description as shown in the preceding
plates, and by the same makers, but designed for driving
the screw-propeller. These, it will be observed, are geared
engines, driving the screw-shaft by means of internal
gearing.
The nature and presumed advantages of “ combined-
cylinder” engines have been already explained. It may
be here repeated, however, that the steam is first admitted
into the small cylinder for about one-third of the stroke;
and after expanding during the remainder of the stroke in
the small cylinder, it enters the large one, and completes its
work there by further expanding to the end of its stroke.
Plate XXXVIII. is a section of inboard works of the
paddle - steamer Delta, carrying the Indian mails from
Southampton to Alexandria. (r. m—Y.)
Table of Steamers in the Merchant Service, compiled from Returns made to the Board of Trade.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
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670
STEAM NAVIGATION.
TABLE OF SCREW-STEAMERS IN THE ROYAL NAVY,
SHIP.
ENGINES.
Name.
Agamemnon
Ditto 
Algiers  
Arrogant ...
Arrow  
Assurance ...
C/esar ....
Colossus ..
Conflict.
Ditto ....
Ditto .....
Ditto .....
Ditto 
Ditto 
Ditto 
Ditto 
Conqueror..
Coquette ..
CURACOA  
Dauntless 
Ditto 
Desperate 
Ditto 
D.ofWellington
Encounter
Ditto 
Ditto  
Fairy  
Ditto 
Ditto 
Ditto .
Ditto .
Ditto .
Ditto .
Ditto ,
Ditto ,
Flying Fish ...
Ditto 
Ditto 
Forth  
Glatton, Bat.,
Hannibal  
Highflyer....
Hogue  
Ditto 
Horatio 
Imperieuse .
James Watt .
Lapwing 
Marlborough ..
Megaera  
Meteor, Battery
Miranda 
Mohawk 
Orion  
Pearl  
Ditto  
Pioneer  
Plumper 
Princess Koyal.
Pylades  
Kattler 
Rifleman ....
Ringdove   
Royal Albert...
Royal George...
St Jean D’Acre..
Sans Pareil , 
Satellite   
Seahorse ....
Shannon  
Sharpshooter ...
Simoom 
Ditto  
SPARROWHAWK ...
Surprise 
Termagant .
Ditto 
Tribune ....
Victor 
Viper  
Wanderer .
Tns,
3074
3074
3347
1872
477
670
2767
‘2590
1038
1038
1038
1038
1038
1038
1038
1038
3224
670
1571
1575
1575
1037
1037
3759
953
1169
1169
312
312
312
312
312
312
312
312
312
868
868
1228
1535
3136
1153
1846
1846
1090
2355
3083
670
4000
1395
1469
1039
670
3232
1462
1462
868
490
3129
1278
888
486
670
3726
2616
3200
2339
1462
1212
2651
503
1980
1980
670
670
1547
1547
1570
851
477
670
10119
9‘77
7- 15
10'824
10
9'375
11-199
9-3
11-4
9-298
11-807
9-327
8- 747
10- 647
11- 065
11-149
8- 781
9- 593
10- 418
11- 583
11-86
10-733
Description of Engines.
Tns.
3750
5080
4730
2615
586
781
3250
3691
1752
1740
1752
1752
1746
1746
1752
1746
5665
772
1735
2150
2480
1393
1545
5080
1459
1757
1757
210
210
210
210
207-4
203
203
205
210
1090
1050
1072
1792
1640
3300
1775
3054
3081
1175
2225
4950
781
4510
1554
1346
1350
785
5070
2115
2130
1056
510
3400
1956
840
678
714
5571
4110
5340
3800
1500
1799
2948
653
2700
2830
781
790
2270
2230
2220
1019
600
745
Horizontal, Trunk..
Horizontal, Trunk.,
Horizontal  
Horizontal, Trunk .
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Trunk .
Horizontal, Trunk .
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
John Penn and Son  
John Penn and Son  
Fairbairn and Sons  
John Penn and Son  
Humphry's, Tennant, & Co.
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co.
John Penn and Son
John Penn and Son
Seaward and Capel..
Seaward and Capel..
Seaward and Capel..
Seaward and Capel..
Horizontal   
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Trunk .
Horizontal  
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Geared
Horizontal, Geared
Horizontal, Geared
Horizontal, Geared
Horizontal, Geared
Horizontal, Trunk 
Inclined, Oscillating 
Inclined, Oscillating 
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Vertical, Oscillg., Geared
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Tk., High Prs.
Horizontal, High Press.
Horizontal, Geared ....
Seaward and Capel 
Seaward and Capel 
Seaward and Capel.^ 
Seaward and Capel 
John Penn and Son ....
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co.
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Robert Napier and Sons ...
Robert Napier and Sons ...
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Robert Napier and Sons ...
John Penn and Son  
J. Scott Russell and Co. ...
J. Scott Russell and Co. ...
John Penn and Son   
John Penn and Son   
John Penn and Son   
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Geared
Horizontal, Trunk ..
Horizontal 
Horizontal  
Horizontal 
Horizontal  
Horizontal, High Press.
Horizontal, Geared ....
Horizontal  
Horizontal, Trunk 
Horizontal, Trunk .......
Horizontal, Trunk 
Horizontal 
Vertical, Oscillating, Grd.
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Trunk 
Vertical, Dbl. Cylrs., Grd.
Vertical, Oscillating, Grd.
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Trunk 
Horizontal, Trunk 
Horizontal, Trunk 
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Trunk 
Horizontal, Tk., High Prs,
Horizontal, Trunk 
Horizontal, Geared 
Horizontal, Oscillating.,
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal 
Horizontal, Geared  
Horizontal 
Horizontal .
Horizontal .
Horizontal .
Horizontal.
Name of Manufacturer.
John Penn and Son
John Penn and Son
John Penn and Son
John Penn and Son
John Penn and Son
John Penn and Son
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
John Penn and Son ....
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co.
Scott, Sinclair, and Co..
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Seaward and Capel 
Seaward and Capel 
Seaward and Capel 
John Penn and Son ....
James Watt and Co 
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co.
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
George and John Rennie
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Robert Napier 
Humphrys, Tennant, & Co,
John Penn and Son 
John Penn and Son 
John Penn and Son 
Miller, Ravenhill, andCo.
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co,
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
John Penn and Son 
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co.
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co.
John Penn and Son ....
John Penn and Son ...,
John Penn and Son ....
James Watt and Co 
John Penn and Son ....
John Penn and Son ....
John Penn and Son ....
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co.
Boulton and Watt 
Portsmth. Yard (refitted)
Humphrys, Tennant, & Co
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co
Seaward and Capel  
Portsmth. Yard (refitted)
Mandslay, Sons, and Field
Miller, Ravenhill, and Co,
Matidslay, Sons, and Field
Maudslay, Sons, and Field
Cylinders.
inches.
=7°|
61
=55
42
45
=58
=58
46i
464
46*
46*
46*
46*
46*
46*
=82
45
574
84
84
55
55
93*
=55
5U
50
42
42
42
42
42
42
42
42
42
58
58
58
=30*
25*
74*
55 3-16
514
5lj
54
=55
52
45
82
49*
264
561
42*
ft.in
6
6
3 3
3 0
1 9
2 0
3 3
=70*
=58 1-16 3
2 0
2 0
2 0
2 0
0
0
9
0
0
6
6
6
3
9
9
0
0
0
0
3 0
3 0
0
3 0
3 0
2
2
2
2
2
4
2
3
6
0
0
6
0
3 0
3 0
3 0
3 0
=58 1-16
55
27
64*
=55
404
34
45
=64*
=58
=70*
64
=58
=30*
=70*
46
431
62*
42*
45
624
62*
55
55
40*
45
3 6
3 0
£ &-
a
s
60
63
27
61
93
87
60
60
73
77
75-75
61- 5
62- 5
67-25
66
66- 5
55
86-75
64
31
30-5
37-77
38
29-6
81-75
6s-5
63
35 5
34- 8
35- 25
45-25
37- 5
41- 5
42- 5
41
40- 5
82
75
74-5
114
127
27- 5
53-37
47
56
41- 28
67- 7
51
85
53-5
74-21
139
28- 5
88
62-75
59
49
82
55-5
58
62-5
25-76
35-57
84
69
62
61
58
63
112-25
56
38- 25
52-5
55
92
88
345
53
72-5
82
86-5
83-25
Horse-
Power.
hors.
1838-8
2268
1117
774
594
744-6
1420
1458
752
784
812
776
772
799
784
760
2812
709-4
1124
1347
1327-6
»92'5
810-9
1979
44
857
592
359-5
348-8
35t>-4
335-1
383-5
410
410
406-3
416
1302-3
1166-8
1160-6
833-6
693-4
1071-2
702
792-6
797-3
553-1
1980-7
1543'6
2683-5
925-6
5296
613-1
641-5
2328-6
1324
1097-6
1192-5
135
1491
1106
499-7
160-5
676-8
1800-6
2136
1471
1362
832-4
2005-7
348
539-6
1242
725-6
778-2
1119
1082
1068
1165-9
672-9
706-8
STEAM NAVIGATION.
COMPILED BY THE STEAM DEPARTMENT OF THE ADMIRALTY.
671
REMARKS.
174'7 Weather not favourable.
Weather very favourable.
Speed by common log.
Slide-valve of forward engine defective.
Speed by patent log.
Calm,
Wind No. 1.
Wind No. 3 to No. 4.
Spare propeller (cut). Wind No. 5.
Spare propeller, with wooden sphere attached to boss. Calm.
Same propeller as on the trial of the 16th July 1853.
Common propeller (uncut). Calm.
„ „ , [to No. 4.
Common propeller, 1 foot cut off each corner of each blade. Wind No. 3
Bomerang propeller. Wind No. 1. [No. 3 to No. 5.
Common propeller, surface reduced to that of Bomerang propeller. Wind
Common propeller, and edges of blades bevelled. Wind No. 1.
Strong breeze, with swell. Trial not considered satisfactory.
Wind No. 5 to No. 6. 1
Nearly a calm.
Wind No. 5, with some swell.
Wind No. 4.
Calm. Ship fully rigged.
Griffiths’s patent screw propeller. Wind No. 2.
Common propeller. Wind No. 2.
Scott’s propeller. Calm.
Common propeller, cut with blades like Griffiths’s propeller. Wind No. 4.
Common propeller, same as 24th Dec. 1853, with sphere attached to the
[boss. Wind No. 4.
Bomerang propeller. Wind No. 4.
Lowe’s propeller. Calm.
Eisher’s Venetian propeller with flange.
Griffiths’s propeller. Wind No. 1.
Common propeller cast at Portsmouth in 1850. Wind No. 1 to No. 2.
Lewsey’s blades fitted in boss of Griffiths’s propeller.
Wind No. 3.
Wind No. 4 to No. 5. Additional false keel aft.
Wind No. 3. Sea moderately calm.
Wind No. 3 to No. 4.
Speed by common log.
Speed by common log. Launching cleets not removed. Negative slip.
Fully rigged and complete with sea stores.
Fully rigged and complete with sea stores.
Preliminary trial; vessel not in trim.
Fresh breeze.
Wind No. 4.
Wind No. 2.
Wind variable, No. 1 to No. 2.
[Negative slip.
Speed by patent log. Wind No. 5 abeam. Propeller 11 in. out of the water.
Wind No. 2 to No. 3.
Wind varying from No. 1 to No. 3.
Common screw.
Griffiths’s propeller.
Wind No. 1.
Wind No. 3 to No. 4 abeam. No guns on board. Negative slip.
Wind No. 3 to No. 5.
Wind No. 4.
Partly rigged ; no yards.
Fully rigged and ready for sea.
Wind No. 1.
Calm, smooth water. Ship fully rigged and equipped. [broken.
Speed could not be accurately ascertained. Mean of two runs. Indica.or
Wind No. 1. 476 tons of coal on board.
Speed by patent log. Weather calm ; water smooth. [swell
Upper edge of propeller 2 feet 4 in. out of the water. Wind No. 4; a little
Wind No. 3.
Upper edge of propeller 1 foot 8$ inches out of the water. Wind No. 4.
Vacuum imperfect. Negative slip. [the stern.
Wind No. 4. Speed not considered an average, vessel being so much by
Wind No. 2 to No. 3.
Wind No. 2.
Wind No. 2 to No. 5. Variable.
Wind No. 3.
Wind No. 4 to No. 5.
672
S T E
S T E
Steel STEEL. See Cutlery and Iron.
|| STEEL-YARD. See Weighing-Machines.
Steele, Sir STEELE, Sir Richard, was born at Dublin in the
Richard. year Qne branch of the family was possessed of a
considerable estate in the county of W exford. His father,
a counsellor-at-law in Dublin, was private secretary to
James duke of Ormond; but he was of English extrac¬
tion ; and his son, while very young, being carried to Lon¬
don, he put him to school at the Charter-House, whence
he was removed to Merton College in Oxford. He left
the university without taking any degree, in the full reso¬
lution to enter the army. This step was highly dis¬
pleasing to his friends; but the ardour of his passion for
a military life rendered him deaf to any other proposal.
Not being able to procure a better station, he entered as
a private gentleman in the Horse Guards, notwithstanding
he thus lost the succession to his Irish estate. However,
as he had a flow of good-nature, a generous openness and
frankness of spirit, and a sparkling vivacity of wit, these
qualities rendered him the delight of the soldiery, and
procured him an ensign’s commission in the guards. In
the meantime, as he had made choice of a profession which
set him free from all the ordinary restraints of youth, he
spared not to indulge his inclinations in the wildest excesses.
Yet his gaieties and revels did not pass without some cool
hours of reflection ; it was in these that he drew up his
little treatise entitled The Christian Hero, with a design,
if we may believe himself, to be a check upon his passions.
For this purpose it had lain for some time by him, when
he printed it in 1701, with a dedication to Lord Cutts,
who had not only appointed him his private secretary, but
procured for him a company in Lord Lucas’s regiment of
fusiliers.
During the same year he brought out his comedy, called
The Funeral, or Grief a la Mode. This play procured
him the notice of King William, who resolved to give
him some essential marks of his favour ; and though, upon
that prince’s death, his hopes were disappointed, yet, in
the beginning of Queen Anne’s reign, he was appointed
to the profitable place of gazetteer. This post he owed
to the friendship of Lord Halifax and the Earl of Sunder¬
land, to whom he had been recommended by his school¬
fellow Mr Addison. That gentleman also lent him a help¬
ing hand in promoting the comedy called The Tender
Husband, which was acted in 1704 with great success.
But his next play, The Lying Lover, had a very different
fate. Upon this rebuff from the stage, he turned the same
humorous current into another channel; and early in the
year 1709, he began to publish the Taller, in concert with
Dr Swift. His reputation was perfectly established by
this work; and, during the course of it, he was made a
commissioner of the stamp-duties in 1710. Upon the
change of the ministry the same year, he joined the Duke
of Marlborough, who had several years entertained a friend¬
ship for him ; and upon his Grace’s dismission from all em¬
ployments in 1711, Mr Steele addressed a letter of thanks
to him for the services which he had rendered to his country.
As, however, he still continued to hold his place in the
stamp-office under the new administration, he wisely de¬
clined the discussion of political subjects; and, adhering
more closely to Addison, he dropped the Taller, and after¬
wards, by the assistance chiefly of that steady friend, he
carried on the same plan, much improved, under the title
of the Spectator. The success of this paper was equal to
that of the former; and before the close of it, he was thus
encouraged to proceed upon the same design in the charac¬
ter of the Guardian. This was begun in the beginning of
1713, and was laid down in the ensuing October. But in the
course of the year his thoughts took a stronger turn to
politics: he engaged with great warmth against the ministry;
and being determined to prosecute his views by procuring a
seat in the House of Commons, he immediately removed all
the obstacles that stood in his way. For that purpose he
took care to prevent a forcible dismission from his post in
the stamp-office, by a timely resignation of it to the Earl of
Oxford; and at the same time gave up a pension which
had hitherto been paid to him by the Queen as a servant to
the late Prince George of Denmark. He now wrote the
famous paper in the Guardian upon the demolition of Dun¬
kirk. It was published August 7, 1713; and the parlia¬
ment being dissolved next day, the same journal was soon
followed by several other warm political tracts against the
administration. Upon the meeting of the new parliament,
Steele having been returned a member for the borough of
Stockbridge in Hampshire, took his seat accordingly in the
House of Commons ; but was expelled in the course of
a few days, for writing a paper called the “ Englishman,”
and another entitled the “ Crisis.” Presently after his ex¬
pulsion, he published proposals for writing the history of the
Duke of Marlborough. At the same time he also wrote
the Spinster; and in opposition to the Examiner, he set
up a paper called the Reader, and continued publishing
several other papers and tracts in the same spirit till the
death of the queen. As a reward for these services, he was
immediately taken into favour by her successor to the throne,
King George I.; was appointed surveyor of the royal stables
at Hampton Court, and governor of the royal company of
comedians, was put into the commission of the peace for the
county of Middlesex, and in 1715 received the honour of
knighthood. In the first parliament of that king, he was
chosen member for Boroughbridge in Yorkshire: and, after
the suppression of the rebellion in the north, was appointed
one of the commissioners of the forfeited estates in Scotland.
In 1718, he buried his second wife, who had brought him
a handsome fortune with a good estate in Wales; but neither
this, nor the ample addition lately made to his income, was
sufficient to answer his demands. The thoughtless vivacity
of his spirit often reduced him to little shifts of wit for its
support; and he was constantly engaged in speculative
projects that generally ended in failure.
The following year he opposed the remarkable peerage
bill in the House of Commons; and, during the course of
this opposition to the court, his license for acting plays was
revoked, and his patent rendered ineffectual at the instance
of the Lord Chamberlain. He did his utmost to prevent
so great a loss ; and finding every direct avenue of approach
to his royal master effectually barred against him by his
powerful adversary, he had recourse to the method of ap¬
plying to the public, in hopes that his complaints would
reach the ears of his sovereign, though in an indirect course,
by that channel. In this spirit he formed the plan of a
periodical paper, to be published twice a-week, under the
title of the Theatre ; the first number of which appeared on
the 2d of January 1719-20. In the meantime, the mis¬
fortune of being out of favour at court, like other misfor¬
tunes, drew after it a train of more. During the course of
this paper, in which he had assumed the feigned name of
Sir John Edgar, he was outrageously attacked by Dennis,
the notorious critic, in a very abusive pamphlet, entitled
The Character and Conduct of Sir John Edgar. To this
insult he made a humorous reply in the Theatre.
While he was struggling with all his might to save him¬
self from ruin, he found time to turn his pen against the
mischievous South Sea scheme, which had nearly brought
the nation to ruin in 1720 ; and the next year he was re¬
stored to his office and authority in the play-house in Drury
Lane. Of this it was not long before he made an additional
advantage, by bringing his celebrated comedy called the
Conscious Lovers upon that stage, where it was acted with
prodigious success ; so that the receipt there must have
been very considerable, besides the profits accruing by the
sale of the copy, and a purse of L.500 given to him by the
Steele, Sir
Richard.
S T E
Steen, king, to whom he dedicated it. Yet notwithstanding these
ample supplies, about the year following, being reduced to
the utmost extremity, he sold his share in the play-house;
and soon after commenced a lawsuit with the managers,
which, in 1726, was decided against him. Having now
again, for the last time, brought himself by the most'heed¬
less profusion into a desperate condition, he was rendered
altogether incapable of retrieving the loss, by being seized
with a paralytic disorder, which greatly impaired his under¬
standing. In these unhappy circumstances, he retired to
his seat at Llangunnor near Caermarthen in Wales, where
he died on the 1st of September 1729, and, according to
his own desire, was privately interred in the church of Caer¬
marthen. Among his papers were found the manuscripts
of two plays, one called The Gentleman, founded upon the
Eunuch of 1 erence, and the other entitled The School of
Action, both nearly finished.
Sir Richard was a man of undissembled and extensive
benevolence, a friend to the friendless, and, as far as his
cii cumstances would permit, the father of every orphan.
His works are chaste and manly. He was a stranger to
the most distant appearance of envy or malevolence ; never
jealous of any man’s growing reputation ; and so far from
arrogating any praise to himself from his conjunction with
Addison, that he was the first who desired him to distin¬
guish his papers. His great fault was want of economy;
and it has been said of him, he was certainly the most agree¬
able and the most innocent rake that ever trode the rounds
of dissipation.
1 hackeray, in his Lectures on the English Humorists,
18o8, winds up his remarks on Steele in these words—
“ We are living in the nineteenth century, and poor Dick
k teele stumbled and got up again; and got into jail and out
again ; and sinned and repented ; and loved and suffered ;
and lived and died scores of years ago. Peace be with him !
Let us think gently of one who was so gentle ; let us speak
kindly of one whose own breast exuberated with human
kindness.”
STEEN, Jan, a celebrated Dutch painter, was born in
Leyden in 1636. His father, who was a brewer, observing
his son’s predilections for art, had him apprenticed to one
Knupfer, a German artist of note. He subsequently received
lessons from Van Goyen, and the hand of his daughter
Maigaret in marriage. Steen soon rose into considerable
reputation as a painter, but his tastes unfortunately were
much too expensive for the income of a prosperous young
artist. He spent too much of his time in taverns, and
was a great patron of brawls. While the drinking-shops
fattened, poor Jan Steen got much out at elbows, and threw
down his pencil in despair. What could man do more than
he had done, and see what had come of it ? His rela¬
tions assisted him to set up a public-house, which met with
great success, but Jan Steen drank as hard as ever. He
resumed his pencil, and plied it with great success. More
than 300 paintings came from his hand, and he is known to
have painted with great care. His pieces represent merry¬
makings, sick-rooms, and scenes of debauchery; schools,
alchemists laboratories, and card parties ; taverns, tabagies,
and prodigality; gluttony, wine-bibbing, and wretchedness ;
all delineated with such exceeding truthfulness and power
that one could pardon the satirist even though the moral
were wanting. In his drawing he is correct: in his colour¬
ing, rich and transparent; and he displays a delicacy of
execution equal to Metzen. He sometimes attempted his¬
torical subjects, but he was much too great a humorist to
succeed in them. He lived and died a spendthrift. After
ms decease, which occurred in 1689, his works rose rapidly
m va ue, and they are now sold at exceedingly high prices,
rine specimens of this master are to be seen in the collec-
tions of the Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, Lord
Ashburton, Her Majesty, the Earl of Ellesmere, Mr Hope,
vol. xx. 1
S T E
673
Mr Lonsdale, the Earl of Carlisle, and others. The gal- Steevens
leries at the Hague, Amsterdam, and St Petersburg con- 11
tain also many excellent specimens of his painting. Steffani.
A!S^ VENGlorge, was born at Stepney, in thecounty
o Middlesex, in 1 / 36. His father, who was a London
merchant, and a director of the East India Company, placed
his son at a school in Kingston-upon-Thames, where he
lad Gibbon, the future historian, as his companion. Steevens
was subsequently placed on the foundation at Eton, and
afterwards became a scholar of King’s College, Cambridge,
in 1754. His first publication was a four-volume edition of
iwenty of the Plays of Shakespeare, being the whole number
printed in quarto during his lifetime, 1766. On the whole,
this reprint was exceedingly faithful; and in several instances
of doubtful meaning, the various readings of other editions
of the great dramatist were added in the foot-notes. The
reputation which Steevens gained by this edition of Shak-
speare, for minute, accurate, verbal acquaintance with
early English literature, brought him into contact with
Johnson and his literary acquaintances, and led to his asso¬
ciation with the great lexicographer in the edition of Shak
^ appeared in 1773 with their joint names. In
1 < / 8 Malone had rendered some assistance to Johnson and
Steevens in the second edition of the works of Shakspeare,
and in 1780 he published by way of Supplement an edition
of the doubtful plays and poems of the poet. For this act
Steevens, who fancied his vanity was hurt in the most vital
part, resolved to be avenged of Malone, and accordingly
set to work with an open contempt for ail the Malones and
their plodding diligence, to give to the English public a
new Shakspearean metre, purged alike of “useless and
supernumerary syllables, and an occasional supply of such
as might foi tuitously have been omitted.” So great was
his zeal in this new project which he had undertaken, that
for eighteen months he went every morning before day¬
break from his house in Hampstead to his printers in London
to correct the pi-oof-sheets. This work was completed in
15 volumes in 1793. His experiment, strange to say, met
with great success, and except Malone’s edition of 1821,
no popular issue of the works of Shakspeare attempted
anything different till that of Knight appeared in 1838.
Steevens, whose ample means put him beyond the necessity
of literary labour, published very little else beyond his edi¬
tions of Shakspeare. He assisted Nichols in his Biographi¬
cal Anecdotes of Hogarth, and Isaac Reid in his Biographia
Dramatica, and occasionally ventilated his acute and sar¬
castic mind in the pages of the St James's Chronicle and
the Critical Review. In those journals he made the bit¬
terest attacks on many literary characters to whom, when
stripped of the guise of anonymity, he was all smiles, and
bows, and courtesy. Whether or not this conduct can be
freed from the charge of malignity, and be set down to the
less guilty one of mere mischief, as Johnson asserted to
Topham Beauclerk, it is at least certain, that if such doings
could gratify his sense of power, the soijl was a very mean
one that could be touched by such base appliances. Among
his numerous dirty tricks was his setting up Amner and
Collins as literary scape-goats on whom he might father
some of his more objectionable annotations, and ascribed a
fierce attack on Capell to his less decided and more timid
rival, Malone. Steevens died at Hampstead in 1800.
STEFFANI, Agostino, commonly known under the
name of the Abbate Steffani, a celebrated composer of vocal
music, was born in 1655, at the small town of Castelfranco in
the Venetian States. The fine quality of his voice obtained
for him early employment in some of the churches of Venice.
There, a German nobleman hearing him sing, was so de¬
lighted with the youth’s musical talent, that he offered to
take him to Munich and provide for him. Steffani accom¬
panied his German patron to Munich, where he was placed
under the famous Roman composer Giuseppe Ercole Ber-
4 Q
674
Steffens.
S T E
nabei, then chapel-master in the service of the Bavarian
court. From that master, one of a celebrated musical
family, Steffani rapidly acquired skill in writing for voices;
an art in which the Roman school was greatly distinguished.
Having early entered into holy orders, he was, in due time,
made abbot of Lipsing, and apostolic prothonotary; and,
finally, Bishop of Spiga in Spanish America. These ap¬
pointments he owed partly to his musical talents, partly to
his diplomatic services. Besides composing several masses
for the Elector of Bavaria’s chapel, and motets for three
voices and figured bass, he wrote the music of eleven
operas, of which Servio Tullio was reckoned the finest.
This opera induced the Elector of Brunswick to offer the
place of chapel-master to Steffani, which he accepted. His
new patron became afterwards Elector of Hanover. Stef¬
fani composed also sonatas for two violins, viola, and figured
bass {basso continuo). In 1698 he published a small work
in Italian, on The Certainty of the Principles of Music,
and its estimation among the Ancients. His earliest pub¬
lication was a collection of Psalms for eight voices, with a
figured organ-bass. These appeared in 1674, when Steffani
was only nineteen years old, and are masterly compositions.
Padre Martini published one of them in the second part
of his Saggio di Contrappunto, pp. 311-315. Padre
Martini (ibid.) writes in the highest terms of the Abate
Steffani’s compositions, and particularly mentions his duets
for two voices, soprano and contralto, with figured bass,
printed in 1683 : “ Held,” says Martini, “ in great esteem
by all professors of music, and in which are wonderfully
displayed his deep knowledge, his great practical skill,
and especially in double counterpoint of all kinds.” These
celebrated duets seem to have been studied as models by
Clari, the author of charming works of the same kind, as
well as of trios for three voices with figured bass. Handel
gained much by studying the compositions of Steffani,
Clari, and Scarlatti. In 1710, StefFani left his places of
chapel-master and music-director at Hanover; pointing out
Handel as his successor. After a long absence from Italy,
he returned thither in 1729, and passed the winter at Rome
in the society of Cardinal Ottoboni, that great patron of
musical talent. Returning to Hanover, he was soon after¬
wards obliged to go to Frankfort, where he fell sick, and
died in a few days, in the year 1730, aged seventy-five.
Unfortunately, many of his works, composed for the court
of Brunswick and Hanover, are now unknown. Among
these were several oratorios, of which even the titles are for¬
gotten. Might not some of these valuable manuscripts be
even now recovered by careful research ? (o. r. G.)
STEFFENS, Heinrich, an eminent thinker of the last
half-century, was born at Stavanger in Norway on the 2d
of May 1773. Passing to Helsingor and Copenhagen, he
entered the university of the latter city in 1790, and received
a travelling prize four years afterwards. He resided suc¬
cessively at Bergen, Hamburg, Kiel, and Jena, and while
in the latter town he became an enthusiast in the new philo¬
sophy which Schelling was then engaged in elaborating.
Having been created adjunct professor of philosophy to
the University of Jena, he then repaired to Freiberg, where
he wrote his Geognostisch-Geologischen Aufsdtze, which
did not appear till 1810, and he elaborated his Handbuch
der Oryhtognosie, 1811-19. Returning to Denmark in
1802, he delivered a course of able lectures, but finding
himself more at home in the lecture-halls of Germany, he
accepted an invitation in 1804 from the University of Halle,
where he became professor, and published his Grundzuge
der Philosophischen Natunoissenchaft in 1806. During
the succeeding years he took a very active share in the
political struggles in which Prussia was then engaged with
France. In 1813 he was made professor of physics and
natural history at Breslau, and in 1831 he removed to a simi¬
lar chair at Berlin, where he remained till his death in 1845.
S T E
' As illustrations of the labours of Steffens in behalf of stein.
Schelling’s philosophy, we may point to his Anthropologic,
published in 1822, and to his Polemische Blatternzur Be-
forderung der Speculativen Physih, 1825-35. Besides oc¬
casional essays on subjects more immediately connected with
the university, he likewise engaged in the religious contro¬
versies of the time, and wrote on the Pietistic side with
much more than the average amount of thought and origi¬
nality. He subsequently engaged in a series of novels, which,
while portraying with much lively interest the deep religious
feeling of his sect, and displaying very correct delinea¬
tions of picturesque scenery, nevertheless are tainted by
too much egotism and display of the feelings and opinions
of the writer. During the last five years of his life he was
engaged on an autobiography Was ich erlebte, which was
subsequently published in 10 vols. Schelling wrote a pre¬
face to the posthumous works of Steffens.
STEIN, Heinrich Friedrich Karl, Baron Von, a
distinguished Prussian statesman, was born at Nassau on the
15th of October 1757. He was sprung from a very old and
noble family of Germany, who were in possession of large
estates and of wide influence in the Prussian empire. He
studied successfully at Gottingen, at Wetzlar, and at Vienna,
and in 1779 he entered the Prussian service as a director
of mines. On the death of Frederick the Great in 1786,
Stein visited England, and spent much of his time and
attention in inquiring into the social and political condition
of the country. He was much impressed, it is said, by the
spectacle of popular institutions and of popular freedom
which everywhere met his eye. Stein returned to Prussia
a wiser man than he left it, resumed his business in con¬
nection with the mines, and married the Countess of
Wallmoden-Gimborn, by whom he inherited large property.
He was subsequently appointed commissioner, director,
president, and supreme president successively of the West¬
phalian Chambers of Wesel, Hamm, and Minden, and in
this capacity he originated and executed numerous improve¬
ments in agriculture, roads, and general social economy.
Stein had not yet sufficient scope for the magnificent
administrative schemes which were simmering in his brain.
He had been appointed, in 1804, minister of indirect taxa¬
tion, commerce, and the public debt, and he had set
vigorously to work to introduce various reforms, when
the misunderstandings between Napoleon and Frederic
William III. brought his work to a stand-still. Stein,
who from the first took a thoroughly patriotic view of the
question, had to yield up his office in 1807. When he re¬
appeared, the kingdom was shorn of much of its territory.
Having been solicited to his side by his desponding master,
Frederick William III., he developed his plan for the
restoration of Prussia to a high place in the councils of
Europe. “ What the state loses,” says Stein, “ in extensive
greatness, it must make up by intensive strength.” He
proposed to reorganize the entire administrative system
of Prussia. He would lay his hand upon the people, as
upon the real strength of the nation, and by emancipating
them from the burdens to which they had been so long
subjected, would destroy in a great measure the antiquated
system of villeinage and of class distinctions under which
so many of them had groaned for centuries. He proposed,
also, to adopt a new scheme of militia service throughout
the kingdom of Prussia. As a man of genius, with a strong
will to guide his movements, generally overmasters other
minds, as if by storm, so Stein in this instance got the
ear of the king, and succeeded in apparently convincing
him that the new scheme which he had just laid before
him would materially improve his country and set Prussia
in the front rank of nations. Stein’s “system” accord¬
ingly got set on foot as warily as possibly, for Napoleon
had no difficulty in seeing far over his own immediate
horizon, and its operation was attended with the best
S T E
S T E 675
Stein-Am- results. The sleepless Napoleon had heard, however, of
Anger the doings of “ one Stein” on the other side of the Rhine,
and in November 1808 he was obliged to resign and take
Stenogra- refUge jn Austria. The military and municipal parts of
v^ t his system were left to another to execute, and he began
to concoct and bring forth the Tugend-bund or “ Moral
Union,” a society which had in view the ultimate liberation
of the entire German people. After spending some time
in Russia, he accompanied the allies to Paris in 1814, and
drew up his opinions on the re-organization of Germany.
His enlarged views of free institutions, of popular election,
and so forth, did not meet the taste of the Congress, and
on Napoleon’s fall, the weak king of Prussia, who had in his
extreme need given in his adherence to the system of Stein,
now that the enemy was chained to a lonely island of the
sea, thought fit to bid good-bye to him and his system, and
took refuge in the hereditary arms of absolutism. Baron
Von Stein’s name, however, shall live for ever among all
who reverence free institutions, free representations, and
free governments throughout the world. He received the
Order of the Prussian Eagle in 1816, he had a place at the
Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1818, he was made a
member of the Prussian Council of State in 1827, and he
published the same year a critical review of Bourienne’s
Life of Napoleon, in some portions of which his own con¬
duct had been commented on. The Baron died on the
29th of June 1831, leaving a name for statesmanlike
qualities such as many in Germany will not willingly let
die.
STEIN-AM-ANGER, a town of Hungary, in the go¬
vernment of Eisenburg, on the river Guns, and 12 miles
E.S.E. of the town of that name. It has a splendid cathe¬
dral, three convents, an episcopal palace, philosophical
seminary, gymnasium and other schools, and a museum of
antiquities. Stein-am-Anger occupies the site of the ancient
Roman colony Sabaria. Pop. 4300.
STELVIO, a celebrated pass across the Alps where
they separate the Tyrol from Lombardy. It leads from
Bormio in Italy to Glurns in the Tyrol, and the carriage-
road by this pass, which was opened in 1824, is the loftiest in
Europe, being at its highest point 9100 feet above the sea.
STENDAL, a town of the Prussian monarchy, capital
of the Altmark in Saxony, in a fertile valley on the Uchte,
near the left bank of the Elbe, 35 miles N. of Magdeburg.
It is walled and entered by five gates; and it contains, among
other buildings, a fine cathedral of the fifteenth century,
four other Protestant churches, a Roman Catholic church,
with numerous towers, a gymnasium, and an orphan hos¬
pital. Woollen cloth is manufactured here; and there is
an active trade in linen. Stendal was at one time the resi¬
dence of the margraves of Brandenburg. Winckelmann
the antiquary was born here. Pop. 7484.
STENOGRAPHY. The invention of the stenographic
or swift mode of writing, by signs, employed by the Roman
notarii in the time of the Caesars, has been assigned by
various authors to different persons. Diogenes Laertius has
been made to say that Xenophon first took down the say¬
ings of Socrates in notes ; but the original text may mean,
that he merely noted down the sayings of Socrates. The
Latins, however, claimed for themselves the invention of the
Roman Notes. Ennius, about 150 B.c., is said to have in¬
vented 1100 common notes, or abbreviations; called common,
because intended for general use. Plutarch rejects Ennius,
and is in favour of Cicero. Eusebius gives the merit of the
invention to Tyro, a freedman of Cicero’s ; and Seneca in¬
genuously attributes the invention and the cultivation of
this species of writing to freedmen and slaves (as Tyro,
Persennius, Aquila), whose performances were, according
to the usage of the times, attributed to their patrons.
These notes are constructed on the principle of extreme
abbreviation of the letters of the Roman alphabet; for,
Roman
shorthand
Tyro’s
notes.
though every letter of the alphabet is employed, very few Stenogra-
words, comparatively, are written in full. Indeed, the char- phy.
acters are so ill adapted for joining, that hundreds of ex-
amples are found wherein, apparently to preserve the writ¬
ing horizontal, the shape, slope, and size of the letters are
variously modified, and the letters themselves either dis¬
connected or written across each other. The Roman short¬
hand alphabet, with a specimen of Tyro’s “ Notes,” written
in it, is given in Pitman’s History of Shorthand, in the
Phonotypic Journal for 1847.
In this first system of shorthand of which we have any
account, all the principles of stenography, as at present
practised, were acknowledged; namely, the adoption of
simpler forms than the common letters of the alphabet;
making each letter the representative of some common
word; leaving out such letters as could be spared, particu¬
larly the vowels, in order to save time; and sometimes
joining or intersecting the initial letters of several words, so
as to express them by one series of forms, and, if possible,
without removing the hand from the paper or tablet. All
that the authors of modern systems have gained in brevity
over the ancients has been effected by the adoption of
a simpler alphabet. The letters of Tyro’s (or perhaps
Cicero’s) system of shorthand, were made by abridging the
Roman alphabet; some of them were, therefore, neces¬
sarily complex. Modern stenographers have preferred a
new alphabet, made of the simplest geometrical forms ; and
by sometimes classing under one sign two sounds that are
nearly related to each other (as f and v, s and z), a right
line and a curve in various positions, with the occasional
addition of a small circle or hook at the commencement,
have supplied a sufficient variety of signs for the letters of
the alphabet.
By Tyro’s system, according to Plutarch, was preserved Cato’s
the oration of Cato relative to the Catilinian conspiracy, speech on
In his life of Cato the younger, he remarks, “ This, it 's
said, is the only oration of Cato’s that is extant. Cicero °n*
had selected a number of the swiftest writers, whom he had taken dowi
taught the art of abbreviating words by characters, and had in short-
placed them in different parts of the senate-house. Beforehand,
his consulate they had no shorthand writers.” Soon after
this, shorthand came into general repute among the Ro¬
mans, and was patronised and practised by the emperors
themselves. Augustus and Titus were proficients in it,
and some of the authors of that age allude to the art in
their works. Ovid, in speaking of Julius Caesar, who wrote
to his friends in shorthand, says, “ By these marks, secrets
are borne by land and by sea.” Some passages in the Latin
writers, that have been supposed to refer to shorthand, ap¬
pear to refer to writing in cipher.
To England belongs the honour of having revived in Early Eng-
modern times the useful art of shorthand writing, no ori-lish 8ys-
ginal system having been published on the continent thattems
can be compared with the popular English stenographies of
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
There are four principal periods in the improvement and Summary-
dissemination of the art since the revival of learning in the of the his'
fifteenth century. The first period extends from the pub-
lication of the first alphabetic system by John Willis, in steQ0gra.
1602, to the publicatian of the matured system of Mason, phy.
in 1682. During this period the system most used was
that invented by Rich, afterwards practised, amended, and
republished by Dr Doddridge. (Before Willis’s shorthand
alphabet appeared, Timothy Bright, in the reign of Eliza¬
beth, 1588, produced a system of arbitrary shorthand char¬
acters that represented ivords. This, as far as is known,
was the first treatise on the art in modern times.) The
second period extends from 1682 to the appearance of Tay¬
lor’s system in 1786, and during this time Mason’s system
enjoyed the greatest share of the public favour. It was
republished by Thomas Gurney, in 1751, and is practised
676
Stenogra
Phy.
STENOGRAPHY.
Explana¬
tion of
terras.
Alphabet
of nature.
by bis descendants, as reporters to the government, to the
present day. The third period reaches from 1786 to 1837,
the date of the publication of Pitman’s Phonography, or
Phonetic shorthand. During this period Taylor’s system
was perhaps used more than any other; but many persons
wrote the systems invented by Byrom (l767),Mavor (1.789),
and Lewis (1815). The fourth period reaches from 1837
to the present time. In these twenty-three years the prac¬
tice of Phonetic shorthand has extended to almost every
town and every large village in Great Britain and Ireland,
and in the United States. This system we now proceed
to explain, premising that it is as legible as ordinary writ¬
ing, and may be written in from one-fourth to one-eighth of
the time required for longhand, according to the skill of the
writer, and his employment of the principles of abbreviation
furnished in the system.
Phonetics (from <}>wvr), phone, voice), the things relating
to the voice : the science which treats of the different sounds
of the human voice, and their modifications. The style of
spelling in accordance with this science is named Phonetic ;
the common stj le being called Ilomanic, because it is formed
from an alphabet derived from that which was used by the
Homans.
Phonography (from phone, voice, and ypafyg, graphe,
writing), the art of representing spoken sounds by written
signs ; also the style of writing in accordance with this art.
Phonotypy (from phone, voice, and tvttos, tupos, type),
the art of representing sounds by printed characters or types;
also the style of printing in accordance with this art.
Phonogram (from ypagga, gramma, letter), a written
letter, or mark, indicating a certain sound, or modification
of sound ; as,  k, * ah.
Logogram (from Aoyos, logos, word), a word-letter; a
phonogram, that, for the sake of brevity, represents a word ;
as | t, which represents it.
Grammalogue, a letter-word; a word represented by a
logogram ; as it, represented by 11.
Phraseogram, a combination of shorthand letters repre¬
senting a phrase or sentence.
Phonography is based upon an analysis of the English
spoken language. Its consonants and vowels are arranged
so as to show, as far as possible, their mutual relations. In
the consonants, h stands first, next^; the rest follow in
perfectly natural order, first the mute or explosive letters,
proceeding from the throat to the lips ; then the semi¬
vocals, or continuants, in the same order; and lastly the
liquids and nasals. Scarcely more than half the consonants
are essentially different; the articulations in the pairs k
and g, £ and d, / and v, &c., are precisely the same, but the
sound is, so to speak, light in the first, and heavy in the
second letter of each pair. The consonants in each pair
are represented by strokes in the same position, and of the
same shape, but that chosen for the second is written thick,
instead of thin. (See the shorthand signs for k, g; t, d;f v,
See., in Plate XXXIX.) Thus, not only is the memory not
burdened with a multitude of signs, but the mind perceives
that a thin stroke corresponds with a light articulation, and
a thick stroke with a heavy articulation. K, t, p, sh, s,
th(in), f are called light, or sharp consonants, and sh, s,
th(in), f are further denominated whispered, or breathed
consonants ; while g, d, h, zh, z, th{en), v, are heavy, flat,
spoken, or murmured consonants. The distinction is, that
in the flat letters {g, d, b, &c.) a vocal murmur is added to
the action of the organs by which the sharp letters {k, t,
p, Sec.) are produced. The light sounds are also called
surds, while all the other letters (including ng, n, m, l, r,
y, w, and the vowels), are called sonants. Ch and j are
double consonants, formed by the union of t, sh, and d, zh,
as may be heard in fetch, cheap, edge, jem. They are
placed next to the first elements t, d, which enter into their
composition. I he vowels are arranged naturally in two
series, the first guttural and the second labial. Each series Stenogra-
commences with the most open sound. I he short vowels
are represented by light dots and strokes, and their corre- v—'
spending long sounds by heavy ones. After a few weeks’
practice in writing phonography, the heavy strokes and dots
are made without any perceptible effort; they are traced
by the pen with as much facility as their corresponding
heavy sounds are produced by the organs of speech.
With one exception (ch and the upward r, as below), Consonants,
every right-line and curve employed in phonography is
written in the diiection of one of the lines in the annexed
diagram, all straight lines and curves in di¬
rection 2 and the curves in direction 4 be¬
ing inclined midway between a perpendi¬
cular and horizontafline. (For illustrations i
of single shorthand letters, see Plate XXXIX.; and for
illustrations of joined characters, and the application of the
various rules for writing, see Plate XL.)
Perpendicular and sloping letters are written from top to
bottom, and horizontal letters from left to right. L, when
standing alone, is written upward, and sh downward : l and
sh, joined to other consonants, may be written either up¬
ward or downward, as may be convenient.
All the consonants in a word should be written without
lifting the pen, the second letter beginning where the first
ends, and so on. When a straight consonant is repeated,
no break should be made between the two strokes; thus,
  kk. When a curved consonant is repeated, the
curve should not be written larger, but doubled; thus,
—' nn. Single consonants, and combinations of con¬
sonants that contain not more than one descending stroke,
rest upon the line. When two descending letters are joined,
the first should be made down to the line, and the second
below.
As the straight line in direction 4, in the above diagram,
may be written either up or down, it is made to represent
two letters, namely, ch when written downward, and r when
written upward; this additional sign being given to r for
convenience and speed in writing. To diminish the risk
of ch and r being mistaken for each other, / ch is made to
slope 60 degrees from the horizontal, and / r when stand¬
ing alone, 30. This line naturally takes these slopes when
struck by the hand downward and upward respectively.
On account of their frequent occurrence, s and z are fur¬
nished with an additional character, particularly convenient
for joining; thus o s or z. When the s circle is joined to
straight letters, it is written on the upper side of k, and on
the corresponding side of the other letters. When joined
to curved letters, it is written inside the curve. When it
occurs between two straight consonants, it is written on the
outside angle. When it is joined to l only, the l is written
upward; and when it is joined to sh only, the sh is written
downward.
There are six simple long vowels in the English lan-Vowels,
guage, namely,
i- 2. 8, i.
ah, eh (a), ee; aw,
as in alms, ale, eel; all,
4 here are also six short vowels, of the same or similar
quality, or tone, heard in the words
3* 4, 5.
pat, pet, pit; not, nut, foot.
The long and short sounds of Nos. 4 and 6 are identical
in quality; Nos. 2 and 3 are nearly so ; the long and short
sounds of the pair No. 1 differ considerably in the south
of Gieat Biitain, but not much in Scotland i the Greatest
amount of difference exists in the pair No. 5.
Fhe first three vowels are represented by a dot, and the
last three by a short stroke or dash, written at a right angle
with the consonant. The dot (for 1, 2, 3), and the dash
5.
oh,
ope,
G.
oo ;
food.
STENOGRAPHY.
677
Stenpgra- (for 4, 5, 6), are made heavy for the long vowels, and light
pby. for the short ones. When a vowel is placed on the left-
hand side of a perpendicular or sloping consonant, it is read
before the consonant; and when placed on the right-hand
side, it is read after the consonant. A vowel placed above
a horizontal letter, is read before the consonant, and when
written under, is read after the consonant. This, it may
be observed, is the way in which we read all European lan¬
guages ; namely, from left to right, and from top to bot¬
tom. The vowels are written at the side of the consonant,
in three places,—at the beginning, middle, and end; the
beginning of the consonant, whether written upward or
downward, being the place of the first vowel-sign ah. The
letter /, for instance, when written downward, has its vowels’
places reckoned downward; and when written upward, the
vowels are reckoned from the bottom upward.
Vowels placed at the beginning of a consonant {ah and
aw, for .example), are called first-place vowels; vowels
written in the middle are called second-place vowels ; and
those written at the end are called third-place, vowels.
The vowel points and strokes must be written at a little
distance from the consonants to which they are placed. If
allowed to touch, except in a few cases, they would occa¬
sion mistakes. The short vowels should not be called—
No. 1, “ short eh ; ” No. 2, “ short ee ; ” No. 3, “ short i
{eye),” &c.; but—No. 1, “ short ah ; ” No. 2, “ short eh
No. 3, “ short ee,” &c. It will be found more convenient
when speaking of these short vowels to affix the letter t to
each, and call them severally at, et, it, ot, ut, dot.
Diph- The double vowels heard in the words ice, owl, ay, boy,
thongs. are represented by small angular marks.
I and ow are close diphthongs, accented on the second
element; and (yes), oi, are open diphthongs, accented
on the first element. Each is pronounced as one syllable.
The shorthand signs for i, ow, oi, may be written in any
place: ai is written in the first place.
Letters Y The letters y and w are unlike any other consonants,
and W. They are, in fact, consonants made from vowels ; y being
a modification of ee, and w a modification of oo ; as may be
heard in pronouncing
yah, yeh, yih (or yee); yaw, yoh, yuh (or yoo).
wah, weh, will {ox wee); ivaw, woh, wuh {ox woo).
It has been found expedient to represent these letters in
connection with the succeeding vowel, by a single sign, hav¬
ing a vowel character; thus, u „ c 3 These signs, like
those for the simple vowels, are written by the side of con¬
sonants, in three places, heavy for long vowels, and light
for short ones. When joined to consonants, they express
y ox w alone.
By prefixing w to the diphthong l, the treble sound wi
is heard, as in twice. It is represented by a small right
angle, which may be written in any position.
The shorthand signs for the diphthongs, and double and
treble letters of the y and w series, are always written in
the same direction; that is, they do not accommodate
themselves to the consonant to which they may be written,
as do the signs for the simple vowels aiv, o, oo.
Y and w are also furnished with full-sized consonantal
forms, which are used like other consonants; thus,
A" yea, A~ Yeo, ^ use; way, aivay.
They give greater distinctness than the small curved double
letters, in the writing of words which contain no other con¬
sonant than y or w: they are also serviceable when either
of these letters is followed by s.
The aspirate occurs in English only when preceding a
vowel, or y, w, which are modifications of vowels. It
is expressed by a small dot prefixed to the vowel sign.
When it is more convenient to use a consonantal form
for this letter, it is written either ^ downward, or ^ up¬
ward, whichever may be most convenient for joining with
the preceding or following letter. The names of the let- Stenogra*
ters y, w, h, are yay, way, aitch. P^y-
In consequence of the deficiencies of the English alpha-
bet, and the unphonetic character of our orthography, the General
spelling of a word can seldom be taken as a guide to its ru. .for
pronunciation. To write any given word, therefore, pho- vv^ltlII£•
nographically, its several sounds must first be ascertained :
the student should then write the phonographic letters which
represent them. The practice of phonography and the read¬
ing of phonotypy will improve the student’s pronunciation,
and train his ear to discriminate differences in orthoepy.
The circle s is generally used in preference to the
stroke s. In any word that contains the circle s, the vowel
is placed and read to the stroke-consonant, and not to the
circle s, to which no vowel can be placed or read. The
circle s, at the beginning of a word, is always read first ;
and at the end of a word it is always read last. It may
be made double-sized for ss. When a word begins with a
vowel followed by s or z, or ends with a vowel preceded
by s or z, the stroke form of the letter is used. The
stroke s is used whenever it is necessary to place a vowel
to this consonant. The stroke z is used in all words that
begin with the sound of z.
When a vowel comes between tivo consonants, it is pos¬
sible to write it either after the first, or before the second.
Care must be taken not to write the vowel sign in an angle
between two letters ; as *\ which might be read either
hee-p or k-ahp. The three following rules are of general
application.
First-place vowels are written after the first conso¬
nant. Second-place vowels are written after the first
consonant when long, and before the second when short:
it is thus known whether a second-place vowel sign is in¬
tended to express a long or a short vowel, independently of
the heaviness or lightness of the vowel sign. Third-place
vowels are written before the second consonant. If the
second consonant is the circle s, the vowel must necessarily
be written after the first consonant.
When the diphthongs v * A ow, are written by themselves
for the words I, how, V / is placed above the line, and
A how on the line. When either of these diphthongs
commences a word, the first place is the most convenient:
in other cases they are both more easily written in the
third place.
From the hr series of double consonants, a series of treble
consonants is formed by making the hook into a circle;
thus, a— shr, ^ str, °\ spr. They are used only initially.
The same signs with a thick stem will represent sgr, sdr, sbr.
The whook double letters (see Plate XXXIX., wn, ivm,
wl, wr), differ from those of the hi, hr series with respect to
vocalization. The hi, hr double letters (or consonant diph¬
thongs) are vocalized like the single consonants ; that is, a
(a dot in the first place), before hi is read ahl, and a after hi
is read hla ; but with the w hook double letters (which are
not consonant diphthongs), vowels can be written either be¬
fore or after the n, m, l, r, represented by the stem of the
letter, because w is represented by the hook.
W following a straight letter, is expressed by a final hook
on the under side of a horizontal stroke, and on the corre¬
sponding side of any other straight letter (see Plate
XXXIX.) ; thus, -rz cane. By making the hook into a
circle, s or z is added; thus, —to canes. The ns circle is
made double-sized for nsez; thus,-"^ expenses. After
curves, the n hook is written inside the curve.
.For v, when following a straight letter, is expressed by
a final hook on the upper side of a horizontal stroke, and
on the corresponding side of any other straight letter ; thus,
—3 hf \ tf l chf pf ^ rf (upward);
as in [,- tough, j—3 cough.
678
Stenogra
Phy-
STENOGRAPHY.
By halving any of the preceding letters, < or c? is
added, according as the letter is thin or thick; t being
^ generally added when the letter is thin, and d when it is
thick ; thus, \  bake, baked; /^\ rub, rubbed.
A vowel after a half-sized consonant is read next to the
primary single, double, or treble letter, and before the added
t or d; thus, ^ point, 'X bread. N, m, l, and rare shortened
for the addition of t, and these shortened strokes, when
thickened, represent nd, md, Id, rd. Lt, when standing
alone, is written upward ; in other cases, either upward or
downward : Id is always written downward. The practised
phonographer may use a half-sized letter to represent either
an added t or d. The only consonants that do not admit
of being halved are y, w, ng, and the irregular mp. (All
hooked letters are halved for the addition of t or d.)
A full-sized and a half-sized consonant, or two half-sized
consonants, should not be joined unless they form an angle at
the point of union ; because it would sometimes be doubtful
whether such combinations were meant for a single letter,
or a full-sized and a half-sized letter, or two full-sized letters.
rI he termination -tion (shon), is expressed by a large
final hook, twice as large as the /hook. After a curve it
follows the direction of the curve. At the end of a straight
letter beginning with a hook or circle, or springing from a
curve, the tion hook, when final, is written on the opposite
side, that the straightness of the letter may be preserved.
In other cases, -lion when final, and following a straight
letter, is written on the side opposite to that on which the
preceding vowel is written, for convenience in vocalizing;
thus, p—5 caution, ■-—D action. After simple £or d, the -tion
hook is always written on the right; thus, [, addition.
The n, /, and -tion hooks may be used in the middle of a
word, when it is convenient.
St is written by a small loop ; as, <L_ stock, ^ fast.
This loop is used chiefly as initial or final, but it may be
employed medially when the loop can be distinctly formed ;
as in &^v_justify. A loop half as long as a consonant, re¬
presents str; thus strike, muster. These loops
may be combined with the initial kr and the final kn series
of straight letters ; thus, against, striker. S may
be added to a final loop or to the large ss circle by continu¬
ing the stroke of the loop or circle ; thus, c/3 crusts,
exercises. A hook made by continuing the s circle to the
other side of the consonant, adds -tion (shn) or -sion (zhn) ;
thus, possession.
When a curved consonant is written twice its usual length,
it expresses the addition of thr (in father), tr, or dr ; thus,
N-—neither.
The prefixes in Plate XXXIX. are written near the
following part of the word ; but in reporting (except the dot
cori) they are joined, when it is convenient to do so, to save
lifting the pen. When con or com is preceded by a conso¬
nant, either in the same word or the preceding word, con or
com is understood by writing the syllable that follows, under
or close to the consonant that precedes; thus, ^ incon¬
stant, discompose, you will comply. The pre¬
position in may be expressed before the treble consonants,
skr, str, spr, by a back hook; thus, inscription, ^
instruct. Any consonant when disjoined from that which
precedes it, expresses thereby the addition of ality or arity,
or any other termination of similar sound; thus, penalty,
vulgarity.
The learner should not attempt, at first, to bring into use
all these abbreviating principles. He should be content to
practise, for two or three weeks, a rather lengthened style Stenogra.
of phonography, making much use of the simple consonants, phy.
until he feels confidence in the use of the phonographic
characters, and in the principle of phonetic spelling. He
may then gradually adopt the double and treble letters, and
the prefixes and affixes, &c., as he requires them ; that is,
as he feels that the style he is employing is not brief enough
for the manual dexterity he has acquired. In selecting one
out of two or more possible forms for any word, the student
must recollect that great ease in writing, and, consequently,
the saving of time, is not secured by using hooked and
grouped, and especially half-sized, letters, on all possible
occasions ; but he must learn to make a judicious selection,
and employ those which are most easily written in any given
case.
1 he single and compound letters are used in phono- Gramma-
graphy to represent the most frequent words in the lan- logues.
guage. To write the, and, that, See., in full, would be
unnecessarily tedious; nor wrould these words, thus writ¬
ten, be more legible than when expressed by one simple
and distinct character. Words so abbreviated are called
grammalogues, or sign-words, and the shorthand letters
that represent them are called logograms, or word-signs.
I he table in Plate XXXIX. is the result of numerous ex¬
periments in writing, continued through many years, for the
purpose of ascertaining the most useful words to be abbre¬
viated, and the shorthand letters by which they may be
best represented. 1 he stroke-vowels aw, o, oo, are used
as logograms in each of these directions sir; thus,
N v : 1 ' ^ N 1 '
 N   r \ J ✓ 
all, too, two; oh, owe; awe, he; of, to; on, but; and, should.
And and should are written upward. And and he are re¬
presented by dashes instead of by their respective dot
vowels, for the purpose of joining other words in reporting,
and thus writing whole phrases without lifting the pen.
In the table of grammalogues (Plate XXXIX.), a word is
occasionally printed with a hyphen ; thus, give-n ; or, with a
double termination ; thus, important; to intimate that the
corresponding logograms represent both give and given,
important, and importance. The context will show which
is meant. S may be added to a logogram to mark the
plural number or the possessive case of a noun, or the third
person singular of a verb in the present tense.
In general, the positions of the grammalogues, above,
ON, and through or under the line, are determined by
their vowels; and in the case of a word of more than one
syllable, by its accented vowel. The positions of the vowels
are: 1> aw, G oi, wi; 2, a, o; 3, e, oo, ow, u; and
the corresponding short vowels. The positions of the logo-
grams are:—1, above the line ; 2, on the line; 3, if down
or up strokes, through the line ; but if horizontal or half-
length sloping, below it. Double-length curves take only
the following positions:—Perpendicular, through the line
for all words ; sloping, on the line for words containing
first and second-place vowels, through the line for words
containing third-place vowels; horizontal, 1, above the
line, 2, on the line, 3, under the line.
Ihe rules that determine the position of a grammalogue
are, specifically, these four:—1. Common words are written,
generally, on the line, because this position is most conve¬
nient : sometimes they are written in the first position, for
the purpose of attaching other words in phraseography. 2. In
the case of a word that contains several consonants, the
letter chosen to represent it is written in the position which
it occupies when the word is written in full. 3. In all other
cases the logogram is written in position, in accordance with
the vowel or accented vowel of the word which it repre¬
sents. 4. But if that position is occupied by some other word,
it is placed in the most convenient unoccupied position.
words.
Contrac¬
tions.
S T E
Stenogra- In the following cases the name of the letter is the same
phy- as the sound of the word ; the letter, therefore, represents
the word : these may be called natural grammalogues ;
\ be, 1, awe, 1 O / oh 1 owe, u ye, n you, c we.
These natural grammalogues it is not considered necessary
to repeat in the list. Theoretically, ?/om, 3/60, or u, is «, but
the light sign ydd „ may be used in all cases. The double
vowels c wi, c ?ee, when representing the words with, we,
are written above the line, although they are third-place
vowels, because this position is the best for attaching other
words and forming phraseograms.
Outlines of three letters in the phonographic alphabet (y, s, r)
have duplicate forms, 10 three forms, h four forms, and
two others (sh, 1) are written either upward or down¬
ward ; and as many groups of consonants may be expressed
either by their alphabetical forms, or by abbreviations,
it is evident that many words may be written in more than
one way. For any given word the writer should choose
that form which is most easily and rapidly written, and is at
the same time capable of being clearly vocalized. The
briefest outline to the eye is not always the most expeditious
to the hand. The student will insensibly acquire a know¬
ledge of the best forms by practice and observation.
When K occurs between ng and sh, or ng and t, P
between m and t, or T between s and another consonant,
the k, p, or t may be omitted.
The downward h, when occurring before m, stroke s, sh,
downward r, upward /, 7ir, &c., may be contracted to the
simple tick ✓ ; thus, hm (him).
The, the most frequent word in the English language,
may be expressed by a short slanting stroke ' joined to
the preceding word, and generally written downward;
thus, v'"/' in the, but when more convenient, it is written
upward. The first stroke of ^ on the is made sloping to
keep the sign distinct from v I. The tick the never begins
a phrase.
The connective phrase “ of the,” is intimated by writing
the words between which it occurs near to each other, thus
showing that the one is of the other.
A or An.—A or an is joined to the preceding word
by , or -
The pupil is recommended to be sparing in his use of
contractions in the first style of phonography. In the
second, or reporting style, every legible contraction may be
brought into use.
In longhand, swift writers join all the letters of a
word together, and sometimes write several words with¬
out lifting the pen. So, in phonography several words
may often be united. This practice, which is called phra-
seography, gives great assistance to the writer in following a
rapid speaker. Some examples will be seen in Plate XL.
Stops should be written-in the usual way, except the
period, for which a small cross is used; thus, , ; : x
The hyphen is written thus, ✓ ; the dash thus,  ;
| Interrogation (placed before the sentence); | Ex¬
clamation ; | a smile. Accent may be shown by writing
a small cross close to the vowel of the accented syllable.
Emphasis is marked as in longhand, by drawing one, two,
or more, lines underneath ; a single line under a single word
must be made wave-like, thus , to distinguish it from
— k. In preparing manuscript for the press, a single line
thus drawn underneath (wavy fora single word, and straight
for more than one), signifies italic ; two lines (which need
not be waved) small capitals, and three lines LARGE
CAPITALS. An initial capital is marked by two short
lines under the word; thus, . The Times newspaper,
% Abel. Figures are written as usual, or the words
may be expressed in phonography. One and two, being
grammalogues, are represented by their respective logo-
Phraseo
graphy.
Punctua
tion, &c.
S T E 679
grams. When the figures one and six are written by them- Stephanas,
selves, they should be formed thus, 1,6, that they may BJzantinus
not be mistaken for shorthand characters. (1. p.) II
STEPHANUS, Byzantinus, a learned grammarian, ijobert18'
who flourished about the close of the fifth century. No- 1 ° erJ j
thing is known regarding him, even his very age has been v
questioned. He wrote a geographical lexicon, probably
the first of its kind ever written, in which he made a great
number of observations, borrowed from mythology and
history, which showed the origin of cities and colonies, and
of which we have little remaining but an abridgment by
Hermolaus the grammarian. Even in this state, it has
been found a work of no inconsiderable value. It is
alphabetically arranged, and bears the inscription Ilept
IIoAewv, or Concerning Cities. The first edition was
printed by Aldus, Venet., 1502, fol. This was followed by
an edition printed by the heirs of P. Junta., Florent., 1521,
fbl. Ihe text received many emendations in the edition
of Xylander, Basil., 1568, fol. All these editions contain
the Greek text, without any Latin version. An edition,
with a translation and copious annotations, was published
by Thomas de Pinedo, Arast., 1678, fol. Another edition,
with a translation and a commentary, was prepared by Ber-
kelius, and after his death was completed by J. Gronovius,
Lugd. Bat., 1688, fol. Nor must we here omit the post¬
humous Notce et Castigationes of Holstenius, Lugd. Bat.,
1684, fol.
Stephanus (Fr. Etienne or Estienne, Eng. Stephen),
Henry, the founder of a most remarkable and meritorious
family of printers, was born at Paris in the year 1470. He
began the business of a printer about the year 1503. This
is the date of Boethius’s treatise on arithmetic, the first
book that is known to have issued from his press. A great
proportion of the books which he published were Latin.
They are printed in the Roman letter, and are not inele¬
gant, though some of them abound rather too much in
contractions. He died about the year 1520, and left be¬
hind him three sons, Francis, Robert, and Charles. Plis
widow married Simeon de Colines {Colinceus in Latin),
who thus got possession of Henry’s printing-office, and
continued the business till his death.
Of Francis, the eldest son, little more is known than
that he carried on business along with Colinseus, and that
he died at Paris in 1550.
Stephanus, Robert, the second son, was born at Paris
in 1503. In his youth he made great proficiency in the
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, and at the age of
nineteen had acquired so much knowledge that his step¬
father intrusted him with the management of his press.
He soon afterwards began business himself, and married
Perrete, the daughter of Jodocus Badius, a printer and an
author. She was a woman of learning, and understood
Latin, which indeed was the necessary consequence of her
situation. Her husband always entertained a number of
learned men as correctors of the press. Being foreigners,
and of different nations, they made use of no other lan¬
guage but Latin, which Perrete being accustomed to hear,
was able in a short time not only to understand, but even
to speak w'ith tolerable ease.
In 1531 he published his Thesaurus Linguae Latince, a
work of great labour, and of great value. The device
which he exhibited in all his books was a tree branched,
with a man looking upon it, and these words Noli altum
sapere, to which he sometimes added, sed time. In 1539,
Francis I. made him his printer, and ordered a new set of
elegant types to be founded for him. His frequent editions
of the New Testament gave great offence to the doctors
of the Sorbonne, who accused him of heresy for his annota¬
tions, and insisted upon the suppression of some of his
books. Although Henry, the French king, in some mea¬
sure protected him, the persecution of these divines reix-
680
S T E
S T E
Stephanus, dered him so unhappy, not to mention the expense and
Charles ]oss 0f time which an almost constant attendance at court
o, J| unavoidably occasioned, that in 1552 he abandoned his
Henry118' country and settled at Geneva. Here he embraced the
v j ^ , Protestant religion, and thus justified in some measure the
suspicions of his theological enemies. It has been affirmed
by several writers, that he carried along with him the royal
types, and the moulds in which they were cast; but it is
certain that he never afterwards made use of those types.
Besides, is it possible that the author of so daring a theft
could have been not only protected in Geneva, but even
courted and honoured by the most eminent men of the
age ? Is it credible that such a crime could have been
concealed for sixty years; or that Henry, the son and heir
of the perpetrator, would have enjoyed the favour of the
French king, if Robert Stephanus had acted such a shame¬
ful part? If he was burned in effigy at Paris, it was not
for theft, but for having renounced the popish faith. After
his arrival at Geneva, he published an account of the dis¬
pute between him and the Paris divines, which does as
much honour to his abilities as his Thesaurus does to his
learning. He died in 1559, after a life of the most extra¬
ordinary industry. The books of which he was the editor
were not fewer that 360. Many of them were ancient
classics in different languages. Several were accompanied
with annotations which he collected, and all of them were
corrected by the collation of manuscripts. He was so
anxious to obtain perfect accuracy, that he used to expose
his proofs in public, and reward those who discovered a
mistake. His books consequently were very (correct. It
is said that his New Testament, called O Mirificam (be¬
cause the preface begins with these words), has not a single
fault. It was Robert Stephanus who first divided the New
Testament into verses, during a journey between Paris
and Lyon. The advantages of this improvement are fully
counterbalanced by its defects. It has destroyed the unity
of the books, and induced many commentators to consider
every verse as a distinct and independent aphorism. By
his last will his estate was left exclusively to such of his
children as should settle at Geneva. He left behind him
three sons, Henry, Robert, and Francis.
Stephanus, Charles, the third son of Henry, was, like
the rest of his family, familiarly acquainted with the learned
languages. This recommended him to Lazarus de Baif,
who made him tutor to his son, and in 1540 carried him
along with him to Germany. He studied medicine, and
took his doctor’s degree at Paris. He did not, however,
forsake the profession of his family, but exercised it at
Paris, where he became the editor of many books remark¬
able for neatness and elegance. He wrote above thirty
treatises on different subjects, particularly on botany, an¬
atomy, and history. Having been unsuccessful in business,
he was imprisoned for debt in the Chatelet in 1561, and
died there in 1564.
Stephanus, Robert, the son of Robert the first of that
name, did not accompany his father to Geneva, but con¬
tinued to profess the Romish religion, and to reside at
Paris. His letter, as a printer, was remarkably beautiful.
He was made king’s printer, and died about 1589. His
brother Francis, who was also a printer, embraced the Pro¬
testant religion, and resided at Geneva.
Stephanus, Henry, the eldest brother, was born at
Paris in 1528. He became the most learned and most
celebrated of all his family. From a very early age he
gave proofs of uncommon abilities, and displayed an ardent
passion for knowledge. The Medea of Euripides, which
he saw acted while at school, first kindled his love for
poetry, and inspired him with the desire of acquiring the
language in which that tragedy is written. Fie entreated
his father not to condemn him to study Latin, which he
already understood from conversation, but to initiate him
at once in the knowledge of Greek. His father willingly 'Stephanus,
acceded to his request; and Henry applied with such vigour, Henry,
that in a short time he could repeat the Medea by heart.
He afterwards studied Greek under Danesius, who was
tutor to the Dauphin, and finally heard the lectures of
Tusanus and Turnebus. At an early age he became eager
to understand astrology, and accordingly attended a pro¬
fessor of that mysterious art; but he was not long in dis¬
covering its absurdity. At the age of nineteen he began
his travels, which he undertook in order to examine foreign
libraries, and to become acquainted with learned men. He
spent two years in Italy, and returned into France com¬
pletely master of Italian, and bringing along with him
copies of several scarce authors, particularly a part of Ana¬
creon, which previously was supposed to be lost. He found
his father publishing an edition of the New Testament, to
which he prefixed some Greek verses. Soon after he
visited England and the Netherlands, where he met with
John Clement, an Englishman, to whom he was indebted
for the remaining odes of Anacreon. During this journey
he learned the Spanish language, which was very much
spoken at that time in the Low Countries.
Whether Henry accompanied his father to Geneva, is
uncertain: if he did, he must have returned immediately
to France, for we find him soon after established at Paris,
and publishing the odes of Anacreon. In 1554 he went
to Rome, and thence to Naples. This journey was under¬
taken at the request, and in the service, of the French
government. He was discovered, and would have been
arrested as a spy, had he not by his address and skill in
the language of the country been able to pass himself off
for a native of Italy. On his return to France he assumed
the title of printer to Ulric Fugger, a very rich and
learned German merchant, who allowed him a considerable
pension.
In 1560 he married a relation, as is generally supposed,
of Henry Scrimger, a Scottish scholar and civilian, with
whom he was intimately acquainted. His wife was a woman,
as he himself informs us, endowed with the noblest spirit
and the most amiable disposition. Her death, which hap¬
pened in 1586, brought on a disease that had twice attacked
him before. It was a disgust at all those pursuits which
had formerly charmed him, an aversion to reading and the
sight of books. It was probably occasioned by too con¬
stant and severe an application to literary pursuits. In
1572 he published, in four vols. folio, his Thesaurus Lin-
guce Grcecce, one of the greatest works, perhaps, that ever
was executed by one man, if we consider the wretched
materials which most ancient dictionaries could furnish, the
size and perfection of the work, and the immense labour
and learning which must have been employed in the com¬
pilation. In 1573, he added Glossaria duo, e situ vetus-
tatis eruta. This work had been carried on at a greater
expense than he could well bear. He expected to be
reimbursed by the sale of the book, but he was unfortu¬
nately disappointed. Scapula, one of his own correctors,
extracted from it whatever he thought would be most
serviceable to students, and published it beforehand in
quarto. By this act of treachery Henry was reduced to
poverty.
About this time he was much beloved by Henry III.
of France, who treated him so kindly, and made him such
flattering promises, that he resided frequently at court.
But these promises were never fulfilled, owing to the civil
wars which soon after distracted France, and the unfortu¬
nate death of Henry himself. During the remainder of
his life, his situation was very unsettled. We find him
sometimes at Paris, sometimes at Geneva, in Germany,
and even in Hungary. He died at Lyon in 1598, at the
age of seventy. His temper during the latter part of his
life is represented as haughty and severe, owing probably
Stephen.
S T E
Stephanus, to his disappointments. He was twice married, and by his
Paul first wife had a son and two daughters^ one of whom was
married to the learned Isaac Casaubon.
This most erudite printer was fond of poetry from his
very infancy. It was his practice to compose verses on
horseback, and even to write them, though he generally
rode a very mettlesome steed. His Thesaurus was his
great work, but he was also the author of many other trea¬
tises in the French and Latin languages. His poems are
numerous. His Apologie pour Heredote is a very singular
performance. It has been illustrated by the annotations of
Duchat. The number of books which he published, though
fewer than his father, was great, and they were superior in
elegance to anything which the world had then seen. A
great proportion ot them were Greek. He was the editor,
however, of many Latin and even of some oriental writings.
His Greek classics are remarkably correct; and many of
his editions are accompanied by most learned notes. His
Thesaurus still maintains its reputation. An edition, with
very ample editions, was recently published by Barker
and Valpy; and another elaborate edition has been pub¬
lished at Paris.
Stephanus, Paul, the son of Henry, was born at Gen¬
eva in 1566, and continued his father’s profession. He exe¬
cuted translations of several books, and published a con¬
siderable number of the ancient classics; but his editions
possess little of his father’s elegance. He died in 1627,
at the age of sixty, after selling his types to one Chouet, a
printer. His son Antony, the last printer of the family,
abandoned the Protestant religion, and returned to France,
the country of his ancestors. He received letters of natu¬
ralization in 1612, and was made printer to the king; but
managing his affairs ill, he was reduced to poverty, and
obliged to retire into an hospital, where he died in 1674,
miserable and blind, at the age of eighty. Almeloveen De
Yitis Stephanorum, Amst., 1683, 8vo ; "Maittaire, Historia
Stephanorum, Lond., 1709, 8vo; Biographic Vniverselle,
tom. xiii., p. 386; Nouvelle Biographic Generale, tom. xvi.,
1856.
STEPHEN, Sir James, long a faithful servant of the
Colonial Department of the British Government, and a suc¬
cessful essayist, was born in London in 1789. He was edu¬
cated at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, where he took his bache¬
lor’s degree in 1812. He subsequently adopted the legal pro¬
fession, and was called to the bar at Lincoln’s Inn. He had
scarcely begun practice as a Chancery barrister when he re¬
ceived an appointment as counsel in theColonial Department.
He subsequently gave up his practice as a barrister, and be¬
came counsel to the Board of Trade, a situation which he soon
after renounced for the assistant-under-secretaryship for the
Colonies. Stephen afterwards became permanent under-se¬
cretary in the same office till 1847, when he resigned. During
his long service he was, without question, one of the most
efficient functionaries which the government possessed. In
1855 he published his views in a Blue-book regarding the
reorganization of the civil service, when competitive exa¬
mination was first broached as a means of determining
the fitness of young men for public offices. On the whole,
the opinion expressed by him of the public offices is not
high. There are, however, he says, noble exceptions; and
certainly the writer himself was one of the noblest. On
his retiring he received the honour of knighthood, and he
was appointed Regius-Professor of Modern History in the
University of Cambridge in 1849. He was elevated to the
latter post by reason of his extensive acquirements in history
and in biography, prosecuted during the leisure hours of his
official employment. He had contributed extensively to the
Edinburgh Review on subjects pertaining to ecclesiasti¬
cal history and general religious biography; and he issued
in 1849 Essays in Ecclesiastical Biography, which have
been well received by the public. He published likewise
VOL. XX.
S T E
some very popular Lectures on the History of France in
1851; and, except an occasional lecture delivered before
some popular institution, his publications close with this
year. Sir James Stephen died at Coblentz on the 15th
September 1859. His son, Fitzjames Stephen, wdio has
likewise followed the law, is at present (March 1860) en¬
gaged on a Life of his father, which will appear prefixed to
a new edition of his Essays.
Stephen, sovereigns of Rome, of Hungary, and of Eng¬
land ; which see. '
SI EPHENSON, George, the founder of the railway
system in Britain, and the principal improver, or (as some
think) almost originator, of the present locomotive steam-
engine. Some incidents in the life of this great mechani¬
cian having been mentioned in Professor James Forbes’
Dissertation in vol. i., (pp. 883, &c.) of this work, and some
observations having been there added on his part and share
in the construction of the locomotive-engine, it will be un¬
necessary in this place to repeat what is previously recorded,
and we shall therefore only cursorily notice the chief points*
in the life and mechanical triumphs of the subject of this
biographical sketch.
In a poor cottage in the primitive, rough village of
Wylam, eight miles west of Newcastle-on-Tyne, George
Stephenson was born, on the 9th of June 1781. The va¬
rious incidents connected with his humble origin and early
occupations have the air of romance when contrasted with
his ultimate attainments, fortune, and fame. Few tours
in this country are more suggestive than one which the
writer has undertaken to trace out the scenes and circum¬
stances in which George Stephenson first lived and la¬
boured ; nor even yet has the most been made of the won¬
derful transition from obscurity to celebrity, from abject
poverty to abundant wealth, from comparative ignorance to
ample knowledge, fiom primitive simplicity to large expe¬
rience, which has been exemplified in the life of the
W ylam lad—the Killingworth breaksman; the bold projec¬
tor and constructor of the Liverpool and Manchester Rail¬
way ; and, finally, the owner and worker of Midland col¬
lieries, and the world-known engineer, the companion of
men of science, and the father of a son who continued
and augmented the glory that gathers round the name of
Stephenson.
Taking up the biography of George Stephenson from
the year 1804, he became a breaksman at Killingworth
Colliery, seven miles north of Newcastle. The times were
hard, taxes heavy, and his own prospects in particular
rather gloomy. He was drawn for the militia, paid for a
substitute, and contemplated emigration to the United
States. Poverty prevented the step. He mended clocks
and watches, repaired shoes, and cut out pitmen’s clothes.
Every spare minute was improved, and his observing eye
was always vigilant. He improved the winding-engines
of the colliery, and was fortunate in repairing and refitting
a failing pumping-engine. His fame as an “ engine-doctor ”
grew, and he was appointed colliery engine-wright at Kil-
lingsworth.
Railways were first employed in the northern collieries,
the visitor to which may even now behold some remains of
primitive attempts of this kind. The W^ylam waggon-way
is one of the oldest, and down to 1807 it was formed of
wooden spars or rails, and passed close in front of the cot¬
tage where George Stephenson was born. In 1808 this
wooden road was taken up, and supplanted by a “plateway”
of cast-iron (a single line of rails), with sidings. In 1811
a locomotive-engine “was ordered from Trevethick ; and
another in 1812, after the same pattern, was constructed at
Gateshead. These ran upon the Wylam Railway, and are
interesting though somewhat clumsy specimens of the earlier
locomotives. It is remarkable that at this very time steam, in
its other applications, had become a great industrial power,
4 it
681
Stephen
c 11
Stephen¬
son.
t;S2 STEPHENSON.
Stephen- and was performing the work of thousands of horses. It had
son, even then revolutionized the whole domain of human indus-
George. try# jt was drying mills and machinery, rolling iron, spinning
K v*"-J cotton, grinding corn, and to some extent impelling ships
over the waters ; but the general adoption of the locomotive,
which was to bring together towns and cities, almost to
annihilate distance, and to confer upon man as much en¬
joyment and as many capabilities as if he had been en¬
dowed with wings, was not yet thought of, and could hardly
have been conceived by the most sanguine spectator of the
rude, unwieldy machines then creeping along the plateways
of the northern collieries.
Stephenson made his first locomotive at Killingworth,
and it was the first engine which had smooth wheels, the
constructor being satisfied of sufficient adhesion between
the toothless rim and an edge-rail. It was first placed upon
the Killingworth Railway on July 25, 1814, but its perform¬
ances were not remarkable. He constructed his second
locomotive in the succeeding year, but its improvements
were not great. In 1816 he constructed other engines, in
which he further simplified the working parts, and amended
the whole by resting the weight on four small cylinders,
a plan which was afterwards abandoned for ordinary
springs. These engines regularly dragged coals at Kil¬
lingworth, and the writer has seen one of them at that
colliery. Mr Stephenson became engineer of the Het-
ton Colliery Railway, which was opened in 1822, where
five of his locomotives were soon at work. To meet the
anticipated demand for these engines, he entered into ar¬
rangements with Mr Edward Pease in 1823, and soon after¬
wards erected the famous locomotive manufactory at New¬
castle. The Stockton and Darlington Railway was opened
for traffic in 1825, and the first engines employed on it were
constructed after the Killingworth model, travelling at a
speed of from six to eight miles an hour. Mr Stephenson
was appointed in 1826 to survey the line for a railway be¬
tween Liverpool and Manchester; and the history of this
railway is to a great degree that of Mr Stephenson’s ad¬
vances ; but when the line was completed the directors
hesitated to adopt locomotives. A trial, however, was con¬
ceded, a prize of L.500 offered for the best engine, and on
October 1, 1829, three engines appeared, and competed on
the 6th. The Rocket was made by Stephenson. On the
evening preceding the trial he added to it the blast-pipe,
copied from the Sanspareil, a rival engine by Mr Hackworth.
Up to that time the Rocket had only attained 15 miles an
hour; but on the following day it ran at the amazing velo¬
city (for that period) of 29 miles an hour, while the Sanspareil
could only reach 22 miles. Controversy has settled that
the merit of the blast-pipe is due to Mr Hackworth, whose
engine, however, was disabled, and the Rocket obtained
the prize.
It would be vain to attempt to condense into a few lines
the several improvements which the locomotive experienced
since that memorable trial, but their leading principles remain
lo this day, although numerous ingenious engineers have
studied all its details, and have devised considerable improve¬
ments in its working parts, by which greater economy of fuel
has been effected, and greater speed attained. The invention
of the steam-blast has been attributed to Mr Stephenson,
but those who are intimately acquainted with its history
accord it to Mr Hackworth, and this has been contested
against Dr Smiles, the biographer of Mr Stephenson.
The summing up of those who hold this view is, that the
speed of the locomotive-engine is mainly due to the appli¬
cation of Hackworth’s blast-pipe, Booth’s or Seguin’s mul¬
titubular boiler, and Trevethick’s high-pressure engine. It
is therefore contended that George Stephenson did not con¬
tribute any very important inventions to the locomotive, but
is entitled to a large share of the merit due to its ultimate
success, inasmuch as he admirably simplified the machinery,
and brought all possible mechanical skill to bear upon the Stephen-
accuracy and solidity of its workmanship, while as a private son’
and public advocate of its powers and prospects (together ^ Robert.
with those of railways) he was second to none, manifesting ^
and partly inspiring an almost unlimited faith in this great
triumph of mechanical adaptation.
Mr Stephenson attained the culminating point of his
fame upon the completion and success of the Liverpool
and Manchester Railway. His subsequent life was one of
activity as a railway engineer; but others now emerged
from obscurity, and shared his triumphs, while they rather
confirmed than lessened his celebrity. The article Rail¬
ways details the various improvements in the system which
were adopted at different times; while the history of rail¬
way progress, so far as it was contemporaneous with Mr
Stephenson’s life, displays not more his co-operation than
his singleness of purpose and integrity of character. He
discountenanced the lamentable railway mania, and stood,
in the main, aloof from its trickeries and infatuations. He
visited other countries as an engineer, and was greatly
honoured in all such visits. Finally, he retired to Tapton,
opened extensive collieries, and lived the life of a plain but
wealthy country gentleman. In 1845 he took a warm in¬
terest in horticulture, built melon-houses, pineries, and
vineries, and contended as eagerly with the cultivators of
exotics as he formerly did with mechanicians, while his
early affection for birds and animals revived. We have not
referred to his improvements in the miner’s lamp, mainly
because they are noticed in the preliminary dissertation,
already alluded to. He died 12th August 1848, aged 67.
We should say his leading characteristics were sagacity,
enterprise, and persistence.
Dr Smiles has written a popular life of this great man,
replete with interesting details, but not, we think, always
accurate in mechanical history. A “ biography in brief”
of Mr Stephenson may be found in the little work, Our
Coal and our Coal-pits, the People in them, and the Scenes
around them (pp. 228, &c.) Several points of interest in
the history of the locomotive-engine have been discussed
in technical periodicals, and might be advantageously col¬
lected into one publication. (j. R. L.)
Stephenson, Robert, son of the preceding, was almost
equally eminent as a mechanical engineer, and perhaps in
some respects his father’s superior. His father was married to
his mother in 1802, and the Stephenson family then resided
at Willington, near Newcastle-on-Tyne. Their son Robert
was born there in 1803, in an humble cottage, where his
father was often busy in making or mending shoes, cleaning
clocks, or drawing rough sketches. Robert was christened
in the school-house at Wallsend, and his earliest days were
spent like those of the children of mechanics. His father’s
earnest wish was to give his son that education the want of
which he himself so severely felt. When a widower, all his
savings were accumulated with this object in view. He sent
his child to school, and the boy picked up the elements of
mechanics by frequenting, during long evenings, the library
of the Literary and Philosophical Institute at Newcastle.
Adding these acquirements to the lessons of the common
workshop, he became expert in his department of know¬
ledge. At Killingworth he made a sun-dial when he was
thirteen years of age, and affixed it to his father’s cottage-
door, to the life-long gratification of the latter. This, how¬
ever, was named to the writer as the father’s work.
The son was apprenticed to the viewer of a colliery in the
neighbourhood about 1819, and after spending two years
in that occupation, he was in 1822 despatched to the Uni¬
versity of Edinburgh for a session, during which he so far
profited as to return with a prize for mathematics. He now
spent a year or two in his father’s locomotive manufactory
at Newcastle, of which he was hereafter to become the
principal. Having been sent out to report upon the gold
STEPHENSON.
683
Stephen- and silver mines of Columbia and Venezuela, he passed
RShprt tw° °.r ^iree years *n South America, and returned to Eng-
L 0 i land in 1827 or 1828, to find his father deeply engaged in
preparing, and strenuously contending for, railways and
locomotives. He devoted the ensuing four or five years to
the improvement of locomotive-engines, which underwent
great changes under his watchful superintendence. He
made experiments upon the application of heat, the strength
of cylindrical and other boilers, the best mode of riveting
flat portions of the same, and established all his improve¬
ments upon the issue of such experiments. The Rocket
and Planet engines were in a great measure the result of
his researches, combined with those of his father, the Planet
being the type of the present locomotive.
About this period (1830) he executed the Leicester and
Swannington, Whitby and Pickering, and two other rail-
ways, and planned a large locomotive manufactory at New¬
ton in Lancashire ; but whilst these works were in progress,
his father and others were engaged in the first survey of
the great railway from London to Birmingham, and subse-
sequently he himself was engaged upon it, and walked over
the whole distance—it is said twenty times—in order to
determine the best line. By the close of 1831 the requi¬
site plans were deposited, preparatory to application for an
act in the ensuing session of Parliament. The contest be¬
fore committees was protracted and severe, and no less
than L.72,868 were expended in carrying the bill from first
to last through Parliament. The difficulties which the
Messrs Stephenson encountered in the actual construction
of this important railway are generally known. Extensive
tunnellings and excavations, besides long embankments,
had to be executed by the best contractors of that day,
who, however, were mostly new to works of this nature,
while specifications for various peculiar kinds of work
had to be prepared by the engineers. Opposition from
Northampton necessitated the Kilsby tunnel, which pene¬
trated 160 feet below the surface for a length of 2400
yards. This tunnelling was let to a contractor for L.90,000,
and appeared feasible, and free from great impediments;
but it was found that at 200 yards from the south end a
hidden water-bearing quicksand, overlaid by a thick bed of
clay, extended 400 yards into the proposed tunnel. Emi¬
nent engineers despaired of success ; but Mr R. Stephenson
devised means by which the tunnel was ultimately com¬
pleted in thirty months from the time of laying the first
brick (of which 36,000,000 in all were used). During
eight months no less than 1800 gallons of water per minute
were raised and carried away by steam-engines from the
quicksand; in all, 13 steam-engines, 1250 men, and 200
horses, were engaged in this task, and the total cost of the
tunnel amounted to about L.350,000.
In the course of this line enormous sums were paid for
land and compensation ; in one instance, L.3000 was given
for sc piece of land, and L. 10,000 for consequential damages,
though in the end the land was greatly enhanced in value
by the railway. From this and similar causes, the original
estimates which Mr R. Stephenson had laid before Parlia¬
ment, amounting to L.2,750,000, were so largely increased
that the expenditure had equalled nearly L.5,000,000 be¬
fore the railway was opened for traffic. During nearly five
years had Mr Stephenson, as engineer-in-chief, borne the
heavy responsibilities and anxieties of this great undertak¬
ing; and it was indeed a day on which he might well feel
honourable pride, when, with a small party (of whom the
writer was one), he travelled by the first locomotive that had
traversed at one and the same time the entire line of 112
miles.
His fame as a railway engineer was now at its culminating
point, and he was henceforward fully occupied for several
years in devising and superintending the construction of
other lines. Of these the principal were the Midland,
Blackwall, Northern and Eastern, Norfolk and Chester, and
Holyhead, not to name numerous branch lines. Abroad,
too, his services were sought either as consulting or con¬
structing engineer; and thus he took part in the system of
Belgian and Italian railways, and was employed on some of
the principal lines in France, Holland, Norway, Denmark,
Canada, New Zealand, Egypt, and India. In connection
with the English lines he gave much parliamentary evidence,
and was concerned in several hotly-contested questions,
such as the “ battle of the gauges,” as well as in numerous
reports, arbitrations, and consultations.
As a railway engineer, his attention had been necessarily
much directed to bridges, and several of those now stand¬
ing on various lines attest the skill and taste of the engineer-
in-chief and of his able assistants. He was thus led to con¬
sider the possibility of adapting malleable iron to a larger
extent in bridges, and for far wider spans than had here¬
tofore been attempted. His own article, Iron Bridges,
contributed to t\\\s Encyclopcedia, contains his mature views
on this subject, as well as the details of the principal erec¬
tions of this character, with illustrations. We shall, there¬
fore, content ourselves here with saying, that his own skill
in this department is exhibited in some of the greatest con¬
structions in iron-bridge building now existing. Not to
dwell upon the High-level Bridge at Newcastle and some
others, we particularly refer to the Conway and Britannia
Tubular-Bridges in North Wales. The latter is, indeed,
celebrated through all countries, and is an object of wonder
to foreigners. Its principle was a subject of profound study
and frequent experiments by Mr Stephenson and his very
able assistants. It must be mentioned that Mr Fairbairn
claims the merit of being the originator of the tubular prin¬
ciple ; but into the controversy on this question we are not
called upon to enter, nor is this the place to pronounce
upon the respective claims of either of these two eminent
engineers. The bridge itself is a marvel of massiveness,
design, and perseverance. Unsightly in some aspects, it
is nevertheless grand as a whole. The weight of malleable-
iron in it is no less than 9480 tons, and that of cast-iron
1988 tons. The length of the long tubes (in place) is 488
feet, 8 inches; their height above low-water (the Menai
Straits) is 121 feet, 6 inches; above high-water, 100 feet;
and the weight of each tube is 1803 tons. By this erec¬
tion the value of the tubular principle is demonstrated, and
the ability of all concerned established.
A bridge was commenced and built, under the direction
of Mr Stephenson, across the St Lawrence, extending nearly
two miles, and is now opened in connection with the Grand
Trunk Canadian Railway. Unprecedented difficulties had
to be overcome in founding the piers of this bridge in the
rapid waters of the river, and it was necessary to sink the
foundations below its bed, thereby reaching to a great depth,
while operations could only be carried on during a period
of the year. Grandeur of conception and successful exe¬
cution are here combined in the most remarkable degree.
In these respects, and in magnitude, it may be regarded
as the engineer’s greatest work in iron-bridge building.
It will be unnecessary to refer to minor labours and tri¬
umphs, but it should be recorded that in all his public
works Mr Stephenson had the good fortune to be ably
seconded by his subordinates, in selecting whom he dis¬
played considerable judgment. Some of these may remain
unknown, but others are in the front rank of the profession
of their former chief.
In public life Mr Stephenson became further known (in
1814) as M.P. for Whitby, and as a respected speaker in
the House of Commons upon his own subjects. In private
life no man could be more honoured, loved, and happy.
Great wealth, and numerous and attached friends, were his
fortunate lot. He died 12th October 1859, aged 56 years.
His remains were honoured with a public funeral and in-
Stephen¬
son,
Robert.
684
S T E
S T E
Stereo¬
scope.
History,
Stepney ferment in Westminster Abbey, which was crowded on that
occasion with a multitude of mourners distinguished by
professional eminence and rank. Thus was he favoured in
, life and lamented in death. It is said that he once de¬
clined the honour of knighthood. No title would have
added materially to his celebrity, and his fame will probably
last as long as his great public works, which, after all, form
his most appropriate and enduring memorials. To every
railway traveller it may be said, with reference to the Ste¬
phensons, as once in relation to Wren and St Paul’s Cathe¬
dral, Si monumentum quceris circumspice. (j. r. l.)
STEPNEY, a parish of England, and eastern suburb of
London, in the borough of Tower Hamlets, lying to the
east of the city, miles E. of St Paul’s. It contains nume¬
rous churches and dissenting places of worship, a grammar
and other schools, a Baptist college, the London Hospital,
and other charitable institutions. Many manufactures are
carried on here to a considerable extent; among other
establishments there are breweries, manufactories of sail¬
cloth, sails, tobacco-pipes, ropes, chain-cables, and steam-
engines. Stepney contains the basin of the Regent’s canal,
which here joins the Thames. Area, 812 acres. Pop.
80,128.
STEREOSCOPE. The name Stereoscope, derived
from the Greek words o-repeos, solid, and o-kott&v, to see,
has been given to a binocular optical instrument of modern
invention, by which plane representations of figures or land¬
scapes, or any objects whatever, as seen separately by each
eye, are combined into one picture, which appear solid or in
relief. Unlike other optical instruments, it cannot be used
by persons who see only with one eye.
As in all important inventions, the principle of the in¬
strument, as well as its construction, has been claimed for
different persons. The fundamental principle of the ste¬
reoscope is, that the pictures of any solid object, as seen by
each eye, are different; that is, if an artist draws any solid
object, as seen with each eye separately, the pictures will be
different. Every body knows this that chooses to inquire
into the matter ; the right eye sees the right side of the nose
only, as Gassendi said long ago, and the left eye the left
side of the nose. The right eye sees only one glass of a
pair of spectacles before the right eye, and the left eye sees
only the other glass, which is before it; or, to state the fact
more generally, the right eye sees more of the right side of
all solid objects than the left eye does, and the left eye sees
more of the left side of the same objects than the right eye.
In vision these two pictures, the right and left eye pictures,
are united into one. The second principle of the stereo¬
scope is, that the pictures thus united, though flat or plane
upon the retina, have the appearance of solidity or relief,
and, therefore, two dissimilar pictures, like those on the
retina, united by means of the two eyes, or by any method
whatever, will also appear in relief.
The first of these principles was known to Euclid 2000
years ago, and is distinctly explained in his Treatise on
Optics. Fifteen hundred years ago, Galen clearly proves
that in viewing solid objects, with each eye and with both,
we see three different pictures. “ Standing near a column,”
he says, “and shutting each eye in succession, when the
right eye is shut, some of those parts of the column which
were previously seen by the right eye on the right side of
the column, will not now be seen by the left eye ; and when
the left eye is shut, some of those parts w hich were formerly
seen by the left eye on the left side of the column, will not
now be seen by the right eye. But when we at the same
time open both eyes, both these will be seen.”
Baptista Porta illustrates these views of Galen by the
following figure, in which we see not only the principle of
Baptista
Porta.
the stereoscope, but the binocular slide with the right and
left eye picture united and producing solidity (fig. 1). Let
A, he says, be the pupil of the right eye, B that of the
left, and DC the body to be seen. When we look at the
object with both eyes we see DC. But if it is seen with
one eye it will be seen otherwise, for when the left eye B
is shut, the body CD, on the left side, will be seen in HG ;
but, when the right eye is shut, the body CD will be seen
in FE; whereas, when both eyes are opened at the same
time, it will be seen in CD.1
That we have here the representation of the right and
left eye picture of the stereoscopic slide, and the true prin¬
ciple of the instrument is very obvious ; but till now wre
had no evidence that such pictures
were either executed or combined to
produce relief. A gentleman who
lately visited Lille, saw in the Museum
Wicar two drawings by Jacopo Chi-
menti, placed together like AB, A
being a picture of a youth sitting
upon a bank and drawing with a com¬
pass, as seen by the right eye, and B,
a similar drawing, as seen by the left
eye. Upon looking at a point O, so
as to join the drawings, the figure A
rose into true relief.
This, doubtless, is the invention of the ocular stereo¬
scope, deduced from Baptista Porta’s work. In the year
1593, when Porta’s work was published in Naples, Jacopo
Chimenti was in the 39th year of his age, and therefore
very likely to have availed himself of the binocular theory
of the Neapolitan philosopher.2
Leonardo da Vinci knew the same fact, and in 1613
Aguilonius, in his work on optics, wrote a whole book on
the vision of solids (ra orepea, tu stereo) ; and Dr Smith of
Cambridge, Mr Harris of the Mint, and Dr Porterfield of
Edinburgh, were all acquainted with the dissimilarity of
the pictures as seen by each eye separately. Mr Harris,
who wrote in 1775, tells us that we distinguish prominences
of small parts “ by the prospect we have round them and
he adds, “ By the parallax, on account of the distance be¬
twixt our eyes, we can distinguish besides the front part of
the two sides of a near object not thicker than the said
distance, and this gives a visible relievo to such objects,
which helps greatly to raise or detach them from the plane
in which they lie. Thus, the nose on the face is the more
remarkably raised by our seeing both sides of it at once.”
Hence it is obvious that optical writers in every age knew
the two facts, that the pictures on the retina of the two
eyes were dissimilar, and that by the union of these two
flat dissimilar pictures we obtain the vision of solidity, the
union of the two nearest similar points on the two pictures,
placing that point at the shortest distance ; and the union of
the two most remote similar points, placing that point at
the greatest distance from the eye.
In order to see objects in relief from plain represen¬
tations of them, it was required only to obtain accurate
Stereo¬
scope.
Jacopo
Chimenti,
1 De Refractions Optices parte, lib. v., p. 132; of lib. vi., pp. 143, 145; Neap. 1593.
2 We have taken measures to obtain photographs of Chimentfs drawings.
DO'
STEREOSCOPE.
685
Stereo- pictures of them as seen by each eye, and a method of
scope, unitino: these pictures. By means of photography and the
binocular camera we obtain two dissimilar pictures, and by
the method of Chimenti we can unite these pictures.
Elliott's So early as 1823 Professor Elliott of Liverpool, when a
ocular ste- student at the logic-class in Edinburgh, was led to study
reoscope. the subject of binocular vision, and sometime afterwards
he invented a method of uniting the two dissimilar pictures
of objects as drawn by himself. He had resolved in 1834
to make the instrument, but delayed doing this till the year
1839, when he constructed an instrument for uniting two
dissimilar pictures. This simple stereoscope had neither
mirrors nor lenses, and consisted of a wooden box 6 inches
long, at the end of which he placed two dissimilar pictures
of a landscape (fig. 3) drawn by himself, as seen by each eye.
These pictures were then united, and appeared in relief by
converging the eyes to a point beyond the pictures. If he
Wheat¬
stone’s re-
Becting
*tereo-
icope.
Fig. 3.
had reversed the pictures, as in fig. 3, he would have ob¬
tained the same effect by converging the optic axis to a
point between the pictures and his eye. Owing to the
Fig. 4.
difficulty of obtaining right and left eye pictures of land¬
scapes and figures, Professor Elliott proceeded no farther
with his invention.
In 1836 Mr George Maynard, M.A., of Caius College,
Cambridge, who had been previously studying the pheno¬
mena of binocular vision, published an article on the sub¬
ject in a Toronto newspaper, in which he described the
principles of the stereoscope, or the Bathoscope (from [3a6os,
depth, and o-Kovav, loses), as he called it.1 2
In June 1838 he communicated to the Royal Society of
London an interesting paper on the physiology of vision, in
which he described an instrument called a stereoscope for
uniting the two dissimilar pictures of solid bodies as seen
by each eye. This instrument, which is represented in
fig. o, he describes in the following manner:—
“AA'are two plain mirrors about 4 inches square, in¬
serted in frames, and so adjusted that their backs form an
angle of 90° with each other; these mirrors are fixed by
their common edge against an upright B or against the
middle of a vertical board, cut away in such a manner as to
allow the eyes to be placed before the two mirrors. C, C,
are two sliding boards, to which are attached the upright
boards D, D', which may thus be removed to different dis
tances from the mirrors.” In order to keep the two up-
Stereo-
scope.
right boards at the same distance from its opposite mirror,
Mr Wheatstone “employs a right and left-handed screw,
r, /; the two ends of this compound screw pass through
the nuts ee, which are fixed to the lower parts of the up¬
right boards D, D', so that by turning the screw-pin p one
way the two boards will approach, and by turning it the
other, they will recede from one another; one always pre¬
serving the same distance as the other from the middle
line/; E, E, are pannels to which the pictures are fixed, so
that their corresponding horizontal lines shall be on the
same level; these pannels are capable of sliding backwards
or forwards in grooves on the upright boards D, D'.”
In using the apparatus “the observer must place his
eyes as near as possible to the mirrors, the right eye before
the right hand mirror, and the left eye before the left hand
mirror, and he must move the sliding pannels E, E’, to or
from him till the two reflected images coincide at the in¬
tersection of the optic axis, and form an image of the same
apparent magnitude as each of the component pictures,”
. . . the entire effect of relief being produced by the simul¬
taneous perception of the two monocular projections, one
on each retina.”
The figures to which Mr Wheatstone applied this appa¬
ratus were pairs of outline representations of objects of
three dimensions, such as cubes, cones, and frustums of
pyramids, like those shown at E, E', in the figure ; but
though the effect produced by the apparatus was newr and
startling, it did not excite any general interest, and was
known only to Mr Wheatstone’s friends, or to one or two
professors as a portion of their optical apparatus.
Having had one of these stereoscopes constructed for The lenti-
him by the late celebrated optician, Andrew Ross, Sir David cular ste-
Brewster saw its imperfections, and its inapplicability as ar/oscoPeof
general and popular instrument, and he was led to the con- ^ir Davi,i
struction of the lenticular stereoscope, now in universal use ^ewste^•
in every part of the world. The instrument was exhibited
to the British Association at Birmingham in 1849, and a
finely executed one by Mr Loudon of Dundee was exhib¬
ited by its inventor in Paris in 1850 to the Abbe Moigno.
M. Duboscq devoted himself to the manufacture of the in¬
strument, and executed for it the most beautiful daguerreo¬
types of living individuals, statues, and objects of all kinds.
“ The stereoscopes of M. Duboscq,” says the Abbe Moigno,
“are constructed with more elegance, and even with more
perfection than the original English instrument; and while
he is showing their wonderful effects to natural philoso¬
phers, and amateurs who have flocked to him in crowds,
there is a spontaneous and unanimous cry of admiration.”3
On the 30th December M. Duboscq exhibited the len¬
ticular stereoscope to the Imperial Institute of France, and
MM. Babinet, Pouillet, and Regnault were appointed a
1 On the Bathoscopical Effects of Binocular Vision, and the Principles of the Stereoscope, p. 4, Toronto, 1856.
2 La Presse, Dec. 28, 1850.
686 STEREOSCOPE.
Stereo- committee to examine it.1 Although Sir David Brewster
scope, had offered the free use of his invention to opticians in
v^^ Birmingham and London in 1849, yet not a single instru¬
ment was made by English artists, and it was not till a
year after its introduction into France that it was publicly
exhibited in England.
In the beautiful collection of optical instruments which
M. Duboscq contributed to the Great Exhibition in 1851,
he placed a lenticular stereoscope, with a fine set of binocu¬
lar daguerreotypes. The instrument attracted the parti¬
cular attention of the Queen, and before the crystal palace
was closed, M. Duboscq executed one of his finest stereo¬
scopes, which was presented to her Majesty by Sir David
Brewster in the artist’s name. M. Duboscq having re¬
ceived many orders from England, sent over a number of
stereoscopes; and in a short time they were manufactured
in all parts of the world, and artists dispatched into every
country to take binocular pictures of its buildings, monu¬
ments, and scenery.
The lenticular stereoscope consists of two convex lenses,
or two semi-lenses, or two quarter-lenses, placed 2£ inches
distant, through which the observer views what is called a
binocular picture, held in the hand, or placed in a box at
such a distance from the lenses that it may be seen dis¬
tinctly, and magnified.
In the earliest instruments two whole lenses were used, in
order to save the trouble of halving them, but in this case
the two outermost halves were useless, as the eyes of the
observer only looked through the inner halves. But in
order to make the instruments cheaper, the lenses were cut
into halves, or into quarters, and each half or quarter cut
into a round disc, so that a single lens could make one
semi-lens stereoscope, or iwo quarter-lens stereoscopes.2
These different forms of the lenses are shown in the
Fig. 6.
annexed diagram (fig. 6), where L is the lens opposite the
left eye, and R the lens opposite the right eye, each eye
looking through the part of the lens marked by a dotted
circle the size of the pupil of the eye. If the eye is close
to the lens it will see the object which it views as distinctly
as if the lens were a foot in diameter; but as it cannot be
advantageously placed close to it, the lenses are always
made larger than is necessary. Beyond the size of lens
which allows the pupil to see every part of the object,
everything additional is superfluous. The two lenses L, R
have been made so large as to meet, and sometimes the
shape of a Gothic window has been given to them ; but
whatever be their size or shape, whether whole lenses, as
they have been ignorantly made, or any other size, the
eyes must look through two small circular portions equi¬
distant from the centre, and placed at the distance of
inches, as shown in the above figure.
It is hardly necessary to point out to the optical reader
the peculiar advantages of semi or quarter lenses. It is
impossible to give two separate lensefe, L, R, the same focal Stereo-
length and magnifying power, however nearly we may scope,
approach to it; but two semi-lenses cut from the same lens,
and the two quarter-lenses cut from the same semi-lens,
have necessarily the same focal length and magnifying power.
The general form of the instrument in which these
lenses are placed is shown in fig. 7. The instrument con-
Fig.7.
sists of a pyramidal box, or a box of any form, on the top
of which are placed two eye-tubes containing the lenses
R, L, which can be separated from one another in a variety
of ways, to suit the distance between the eyes of the ob¬
server. They may also be drawn out so as to produce
distinct vision of the picture, but they are prevented from
turning round by a brass pin in the fixed tubes, which
runs in a groove cut through the movable tubes. Imme¬
diately below the eye-tubes, at G, there should be a groove
for the introduction of a pair of convex or concave spec¬
tacles, when necessary, or for coloured glasses, or other
purposes.
If we now take a binocular slide containing two pictures
of a person, or a landscape, as seen by each eye, or as
drawn by the rules of perspective from two points 2£
inches distant, and put it into the horizontal opening at
AB, and look into the instrument with the right eye at R
and the left at L, we shall see the two pictures united into
one, and having the same relief as the living person if it is
a portrait, or as a scene in nature if it is a landscape ; every
part being no longer on a plane surface, but at its proper
distance from the eye. If we shut the right eye R, and
look only with the left eye L, we shall see only the pic¬
ture 1, which will sink into a comparatively flat represen¬
tation of the object, with only monocular relief. In like
manner, by closing the left eye L, we shall see only the
picture 2 comparatively flat; but when both eyes are
opened the pictures 1 2, when combined, will start into all
the roundness and solidity of life or nature.
The bottom of the stereoscope should be left open, so as
to admit binocular pictures on glass, but in this case the
open bottom must be covered either with ground glass or
transparent paper, unless when the binocular slide has one
of its surfaces made of ground glass. The lid CD, which
is left open to throw light on opaque binocular slides like
those on paper, card-board, or silver plate, must be shut
when the pictures are either upon glass or transparent paper.
When the instrument is placed on a stand, as in the
figure, it moves round a joint at E, and is raised or de¬
pressed by a stop-screw at F. A reflector GH is some-
1 Cotnptes Rendus, &c., tom. xxxi., p. 897.
2 See the article Microscope, vol. xiv., p. 770.
STEREOSCOPE.
Stereo- times added to the stereoscope for throwing different levels
scope, upon transparent pictures, and its position is regulated by
—a pulley P.
In order to explain why the stereoscope combines the
two pictures, we shall do it most simply by desiring the
reader to look at any object with his left eye through the
Fig. 8.
centre C of any convex lens such as L, fig. 8, so as to see
it distinctly. The object will appear directly opposite C ;
but if, keeping the object and the eye stationary, he draws
the lens gradually to the left, the object will advance towards
S, just as the parts of the lens between C and E are oppo¬
site to the eye, the displacement of the object being great¬
est or equal to CS, when the eye looks at it through the
part nearest the edge E. If the reader looks at a similar
object with his right eye through the lens II, he will, in
like manner, by moving it, displace the object from E' to S.
Hence it follows that if he looks with his left eye at one of
the pictures of a binocular slide placed opposite the lens
L, and with his right eye at the other picture placed oppo¬
site the lens R, he will see the two pictures combined in
one when the left eye looks through the aperture close to
E, and the right eye through the aperture close to E'. The
lenses thus perform simultaneously two important func¬
tions: While they displace the pictures, they also magnify
them. This is all that the stereoscope does. It simply
magnifies and unites two pictures, but it does not give them
binocular relief. This is done by a beautiful property of
two eyes, as will be seen when we treat of the Theory of
the Stereoscope. If the two eyes, however perfect be their
vision, had not the power of converging their axes to any
other distance but that of the surface of the pictures, no
relief whatever would have been seen.
The lenses of stereoscopes cut out of semi-lenses, or
quarter-lenses, and are placed in tubes so that the line LE
or RE' (fig. 6) is parallel to the line joining the two eyes,
and they are prevented from turning round by a pin sliding
in a groove, as already mentioned. Frequently, however,
the pin gets out of the groove, and when the line LE or
RE', or CE, CE', is not parallel to the line joining the eye,
the picture viewed through the lenses rises above S (fig. 8),
or falls below it, so that the instrument becomes useless.
To prevent this the lenses have often been fixed, so that
their distance cannot be altered to suit different distances
in eyes, nor can they be adjusted to distinct vision by a
motion of the tubes R L (fig. 7). The adjustment to dis¬
tinct vision has in some instruments been obtained by mak¬
ing one half of the pyramidal box move within the other
half; but, to avoid all these risks, whole lenses such as L, R'
(fig. 8), should be placed in tubes as at R, L (fig. 7), having
neither pin nor groove, and they may be pulled out, or
pushed in, or turned round without affecting the perfor¬
mance of the stereoscope, which is the only possible use of
whole lenses. In a whole lens every radius CE (fig. 8),
when it is brought opposite the eye-hole, has the same dis¬
placing power, and must always displace the picture in the
same direction; that is, the two pictures must always be
united at the middle point S, and will be equally magnified
if the two lenses have the same focal length, which is never
so certain as when semi-lenses are used.
687
Among the various forms which have been given to the Stereo-
lenticular stereoscope, those invented and manufactured by scope.
Messrs Smith, Beck, and Beck, 6 Coleman Street, Lon- 's—
don, hold a high place. These gentlemen received a medal
of the first class from the jury of the Paris Universal Exhi¬
bition of 1855, for their unrivalled achromatic microscopes,1
and if their stereoscopes had been exhibited on that occa¬
sion they would have been equally distinguished. The fol¬
lowing is a brief description of their achromatic stereoscopes.
This instrument is shown in fig. 11, as taken out of its Smith and
case A, and resting upon it as a stand, to which it is secured Beck’s
by the hooks C. It has a joint at B, and can be fixed jn achromatic
a vertical, horizontal, or any intermediate position by the 1®IltlcuIar
’ J r j stereoscope
brass arm D, which is made tight by the milled head E.
Two other positions, namely, when the instrument is hori¬
zontal and the person sitting, and when the person is in a
standing position, may be obtained by an additional cabinet,
which may be used for holding the slides.
The two semi-lenses, which, being rounded, have the
appearance of whole lenses, nearly an inch in diameter, are
shown at HH. They are placed in tubes, which turn
round in their fittings at G, and are in their proper position
when the two arrows on the brass arms HH point to one
another. In order to adjust the instrument to different
eyes, the part of it containing the semi-lenses is moved
nearer to, or farther from the stereographs or binocular
picture or slide by two milled heads F. The distance of
the semi-lenses from the picture may also be increased for
aged persons, by drawing them out from their fittings at G.
The slides are placed outside and under the two springs
1, I-
When opaque slides are used, such as daguerreotypes,
or those made of card-board, light is thrown upon them by
the mirror O on the inside of the door, which moves round
a hinge at P.
When transparencies are used the door O is closed, and
the picture illuminated by a removable reflector K, packed
in the case, but which, when in use, is held by two brass
arms and springs M, and is turned into different posi¬
tions round the hinge B. “ The silvered, or other side,
is used according to circumstances ; but occasionally some
kind of tinted paper, or other reflecting substance, is pre¬
ferable for giving a tone to the picture; but, whatever it
may be, it has only to be placed above the reflector or under
the springs, or in place of the reflector, if it is of a suffi¬
ciently stiff material.”
In order to exhibit paper stereographs or slides, either
when mounted in the ordinary way, or when they are given
as illustrations in books—such as those in the Stereoscopic
1 See art. Microscope, vol. xiv., pp. 779, 780
688
STEREOSCOPE.
Stereo¬
scope.
Achroma¬
tic mirror
lenticular
stereo¬
scope.
Improve¬
ments on
the reflect¬
ing stereo¬
scope.
Mr Har-
die’s re¬
flecting ste¬
reoscope.
Magazine—Messrs Smith, Beck, and Beck have contrived
the following ingenious form of the lenticular stereoscope.
This instrument is intended to be held in the left hand
by the handle A, as shown in fig. 10, the right hand being
left at liberty either to shift
the stereographs, or make the
requisite adjustments. The
semi-lenses are placed in the
tubes C, C, and they are in
their proper position when
the arrow heads, or the brass
rims D, D, point to each
other. The adjustment to
distinct vision is obtained by
the milled head B, and a
rack and pinion, and also by
the motion of the tubes C, C. Pig- R*-
The principal feature in this form of the stereoscope is the
application of a mirror EE in such a position that, when the
instrument is held facing the light, the stereograph
is illuminated by reflected as well as direct light,
so as to obliterate the shadows of irregularities
on the surface of the paper. This mirror is shown
at FF, in fig. 11, which is a front view of the
instrument when placed above the stereograph in
a book, the springs E, E being turned up to
allow the brass frame H to rest upon the back.
When a separate stereograph is to be examined,
the springs E, E are turned round, and the
stereograph placed between them and the frame.
The two pictures in the stereograph are sepa¬
rated by a division G, which is made of ground
glass, to prevent any shadow from being formed
on the picture.
In this stereoscope, as well as in the other,
the tubes C, C can be turned round slightly
from their proper position as determined by the
arrows, in order to correct errors which occasionally exist
in the stereographs, or in order to unite the pictures when
seen by individuals whose eyes are imperfect.
Various improvements have been made upon the reflect¬
ing stereoscope, for
an account of some of
which we must refer
to Sir David Brew¬
ster’s Treatise on the
Stereoscope. The
most ingenious and
important of these,
and one which is not
described in that
work, was invented
by Mr Walter Har-
die of Edinburgh,
who has favoured us
with the following
description of it.
In this instrument Fig. li¬
the planes of reflexion are vertical instead of horizontal,
as in Mr Wheatstone’s. The pictures are placed head
to foot, and inverted towards the observer (see fig. 14).
The reflectors (either silvered glass or reflecting prisms)
are fixed side by side over them, and at such an inclina¬
tion to each other and to the pictures that the reflected
image of the upper picture in the right-hand mirror, and
that of the lower picture in the left-hand mirror, are
both visible in the same direction ei, and appear to co¬
incide in position. When these images are viewed to¬
gether, each by its appropriate eye looking into the mirror
which reflects it, they are binocularly united ; and if the pic¬
tures are stereoscopic, the stereoscopic illusion is produced.
The precise relative positions of the mirrors and pictures
may be stated thus: the smaller angle of the mirrors must
be equal to half the difference between that of the pictures
and 180°; and the line of intersection of their surfaces
must coincide with that of the two planes which are respec¬
tively perpendicular to the surfaces of the pictures at their
horizons. The pictures being head to foot with their hori¬
zons parallel, their central perspective vanishing-points
ought respectively to lie inches (or half the width be¬
tween the observer’s eyes) on each side of the plane per¬
pendicular to both picture-surfaces, and which passes
through the point of contact of the inner edges of
the mirrors. If the pictures are separate, by sliding
one of them sideways, Mr Wheatstone’s experiments in
altering the inclination of the optic axes may be repeated.
For ordinary use, however, it is more convenient to have
both pictures on one piece of card-board, with a flexible
fold or hinge between them, and with a thread stretched
across from one to the other on each side, to hold them at
Box containing
reflecting prisms.
Stereo¬
scope.
Fig. 13.
the proper angle when in use (see fig. 13, which shows the
most convenient mode of constructing the instrument).
The stereoscope is adapted for pictures of any size, from
that usually made for the lenticular stereoscope up to the
largest that can be conveniently used in Mr Wheatstone’s;
and it has this advantage over the latter, that it easily
allows of both pictures being equally illuminated. The
distance of the pictures from the mirrors is adjusted
to their size (height) by sliding the frame which carries
them (upwards for the smaller pictures, or downwards for
the larger ones) upon the vertical stem which supports the
reflectors (see fig. 13). To facilitate this adjustment, a
divided scale of inches may be marked on the upright stem ;
and the height on this scale, at which each particular pic¬
ture requires to be placed, may be noted on the back of it.
I he breadth of the field of view may be further extended,
so as to admit broader pictures by interposing refracting
prisms (thin edges inwards) between the eyes and the re¬
flectors. For small pictures requiring to be placed at short
distances from the reflectors, lenses or lenticular prisms
may be used in the same way with advantage.
1 he stereomonoscope, invented by Mr Claudet, is an in- j^,. ciau-
strument which, as its name implies, exhibits an image det’s ste-
apparently single, presenting the most complete stereo- reomono-
scopic illusion. scope.
This instrument is founded on the principles of the
phenomenon of relief of the image formed on the ground
glass of the camera obscura, and which Mr Claudet seems
to have been the first to notice and explain. Having tried
to discover the cause of that phenomenon, he found that
the image seen on the ground glass is not the same for both
eyes; that when looking only with one eye it continually
changes as we move the head, and, consequently, that the
image visible for one eye is invisible for the other
STEREOSCOPE.
Stereo
scope.
• The cause of this singular fact is, that the eye sees on
the ground glass only the rays which are refracted by the
lens in the direction of the optic axis, and that all the other
rays are invisible.
This is owing to the perfect transparency of the ground
glass, and to the arrangement of the molecules of
its surface, by which the rays of light can—nearly
all pass through it without diverging from the
surface, as it would be entirely the case if, instead
of glass, the focussing screen was of paper or
any other opaque substance, which, on account
of this property of stopping the refracted rays
on the surface, from which they diverge in all
directions, present to both eyes at once all the dif¬
ferent images produced by every part of the lens.
As regards the ground glass, it is evident that if each
eye can see only the image produced by rays refracted in
the direction of the optic axis, these rays must be those
which, crossing each other on the ground glass, emerge
from two opposite sides of the lens, consequently each eye
having the perception of an image of different perspective,
the result is perfectly stereoscopic. From the same cause,
the effect is the converse of relief if we look with a pseudo¬
scope.
The stereomonoscope is only an application of this pro¬
perty peculiar to the ground glass, to present to each eye
only the image which is refracted in the oblique direction
of the optic axis. If, instead of the natural objects, we
place before the camera the two pictures of a stereoscopic
slide, and have each of these images refracted by a separate
lens, in such a manner that they coincide on the ground
glass of the camera obscura, each eye seeing one of the
two images and not the other, we have the same relief as
when looking at the slide in a common stereoscope.
If, by inverting the position of the two images before the
camera, we place the right picture on the left, and the left
picture on the right, we have the converse of relief, or the
pseudoscopic effect; but it becomes again stereoscopic by
looking with a pseudoscope.
The slide must be cut in two parts, in order to be able
to give them the separation by which each picture can be
refracted in the oblique direction capable of bringing its
image on the centre of the ground glass. The two lenses
also must be able to slide in a groove, in order to adjust
their position according to the separation of the two pictures,
and according to the focal distance of the lenses, which of
course varies as we wish to increase or diminish the size of
the image on the ground glass, and it can be increased to a
considerable dimension, which is one of the greatest advan¬
tages of the stereomonoscope. Nothing is more beautiful
than the effect of one of these magnified pictures in per¬
fect relief, and it can be examined by several persons at
once.
The apparatus must be placed in a dark room, and the
light of a window or lamp is admitted only through the
openings of the pictures, if they are transparent views on
glass, which are the best suited to the experiment. Views on
paper, on silver plates, or positives on glass, requiring to be
lighted by reflection, would necessitate a more complicated
apparatus, and for this reason it is preferable to confine the
stereomonoscope to the exhibition of transparent pictures,
which can be easily lighted by transmitted light.
Fig. 14 represents the arrangement of the lenses A, A',
and^ pictures B, B, by which the pictures coincide in one
at C. Fig. 15 is a view of the whole apparatus. DD DD,
is the camera, and EE EE, a sliding frame containing the
pictures, by which they can be placed before the lenses at
the distance required for the size of the compound image
on the ground glass, which is fixed on a box sliding in the
camera for the adjustment of the focal distance.
In order to understand the theory of the stereoscope,
vol. xx. V
689
the reader must be acquainted with the phenomena and Stereo¬
theory of binocular vision, in which we obtain single vision scope,
with two eyes, and see objects in relief, or differences in
distance from flat pictures upon the retina. Theory of
1. In all stereoscopic slides or double pictures, viewed the stereo-
D e  _ SC0Pe-
Fig. 14.
Fig. 15.
in the stereoscope, the left-hand picture, when rightly
taken, which it seldom is, is a correct representation of an
object as seen with the left eye, and the right-hand picture
a correct representation of it as seen by the right eye ; or
they are correct drawings of the object as taken by the
rules of perspective, from two points whose distance is 2£
inches, or that of the two eyes. These two pictures,
though almost perfectly similar to one another, are essen¬
tially different; and if the one was laid upon the other, so
that any one point of the one, the tip of the nose, for
example, coincided with a similar point in the other, no
other points in the two pictures would coincide.
2. When we look at a solid object—at a marble bust, for
example- the tip of the nose, the eye, and the ear, are at
different distances from the observer’s eyes. When we see
distinctly the tip of the nose, we see it single, and the eye
and the ear are seen indistinctly and double. We see, in
short, only one point of any object distinct and single, and
when we thus see it, the optic axes, as they are called, or
lines passing through the centre of the pupil and the centre
of the crystalline lens, are converged upon or meet at that
point, and the visible distance of the point thus viewed is
the distance of the point of convergence of the optic axis
from the eye. Although we cannot see distinctly and
singly the nose, the eye, and the ear at the same moment,
yet such is the rapidity with which the two eyes converge
their optic axes upon each of these points in succession,
and upon every other point in succession, that every point
of the bust is seen distinctly and singly, and at the dis¬
tance corresponding to the distance of the point of conver¬
gence. The bust is, therefore, seen in relief.
3. We have already seen that the stereoscope simply
displaces each picture, carrying the left-eye one to the
right, and the right-eye one to the left, and laying the one
above the other at a point half-way between each. It does
nothing more, the stereoscopic effect, or the relief, being
produced solely by the movements of the two eyes.
If the refractive displacement of the two pictures has
been such as to unite the two corresponding points at the
tip of the nose, whose distance we call 2-4 inches, it will
not have united the two corresponding points in the two
eyes, the distance of which we may suppose to be 2'5
inches ; and still less will it have united the two corre¬
sponding points at the tip of the ear, which we may sup¬
pose to be 2-6 inches, the eye and the ear points being re¬
spectively one-tenth and two-tenths of an inch distant.
When the two pictures thus combined by the lenses are
viewed with both eyes, the tip of the nose will be seen dis¬
tinctly at the distance of the point of convergence. The
eyes will instantly, by means of their power of convergence,
unite the separated- points of the eyes, and then the still
more separated points of the ears, running over every part
of the bust with the rapidity of lightning, and uniting all
the corresponding points in succession, precisely as it does
in looking at the bust itself. The effect thus described
may be represented as in fig. 16, where the points R, L
4 s
690
STEREOSCOPE.
Stereo¬
scope.
represent the two corresponding points in the nose united
by the lenses ; L'R' the corresponding points of the eye not
united, but distant an » anc^ ^ ^ ^ie col're-
sponding points of the ear not united, but distant ^yths
of an inch.
Wlien the corresponding points united by the lenses are
those of the eye, 2-5 inches distant, the effect upon the
other points of the bust will be as shown in fig. 17, where
R'L' are the eye points united ; R"L" the ear points brought
nearer by -j^th of an inch, but still -j^th distant; and RL
the nose points, the right-eye point having passed the left-
eye point by TVh of an inch.
When the corresponding points united by the lenses are
those of the ear, the effect upon the other points of the
bust will be as in fig. 18, where R"L" are the ear points
united; R'L' the eye points, distant-j^th of an inch, the
two having passed one another; and RL the nose points,
distant an inch5 having passed one another still
farther.
Now, in all these cases the points L"R", L'R' (fig. 16),
R"L" (fig. 17), where L and R have not come up to one
another, will be united by the eyes directing their axes to
a point beyond the plane of the picture; w'hile the points
RL (fig. 17),and R'L',R''L" (fig. 18), which have passed one
another, will be united by the eyes directing their axes to
a point nearer the eye than the plane of the picture.
By whatever means the two pictures are laid upon one
another,—whether by the straining of the eyes—directing
their axes to points beyond the picture, or between the
picture and the eye ; by reflexion from mirrors or prisms,
or by the refraction of prisms or lenses,—the relief, or stereo¬
scopic effect, is produced in the manner we have now ex¬
plained.
This theory of the stereoscope, or rather this explanation
of the production of relief by the union of two dissimilar
pictures, was first given by Sir David Brewster in the
Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh,1 where
he has pointed out the incorrectness of the explanation
given by Mr Wheatstone.2
Method of As no artist, however skilful, is capable of executing two
taking ste- pictures of any individual object, or group of objects, as
reoscopic they are seen by each eye separately, the stereoscope was
pictures. ]itt|e vajue before the art of photography enabled us to
take such pictures with the most perfect accuracy. If
these pictures are not perfectly correct when taken upon a
plane surface, their incorrectness, when combined so as to
reproduce the object in relief, must be increased. In the
exercise of the stereoscopic art, therefore, we must ascer¬
tain what is a true representation, of a statue for example,
as seen with one eye through a pupil ^th of an inch in
diameter. It is doubtless a photograph taken with a lens
^th of an inch in diameter. Every larger lens will give a
photograph showing parts of the statue not visible to the
eye, and consisting of a number of incoincident pictures as
seen from every point of the lens.3 But notwithstanding
this defect, the artist is obliged to use a larger lens than Stereo-
this, in order to accelerate the process ; but it is to be hoped scope,
that more sensitive materials may soon enable him to use a
lens of the smallest size, and thus obtain perfectly correct
right and left eye pictures. With the large lenses now in
use, 2, 3, and even 4 inches in diameter, no correct stereo¬
scopic pictures can be obtained.
But the right and left eye pictures must not only be taken
with apertures as nearly as possible equal to that of the pupil,
they must be taken by apertures placed at the same dis¬
tance as that of the two pupils, that is, at the distance of
2J inches. All pictures taken otherwise are false, incor¬
rect, and out of all accurate proportion. With this essen¬
tial property, the stereoscopic camera cannot have lenses
more than 2^ inches in diameter, for they would just touch
one another when of this size. With this information, we
are now prepared to describe the binocular camera.
The camera must consist of two perfectly similar lenses, Binocular
in order to give two pictures of the same size ; but as it is camera,
difficult for the most skilful optician to make two lenses of
the same focal length and magnifying power, Sir David
Brewster, who was the first to describe a binocular camera,
proposed to construct it of achromatic semi-lenses, that is,
of an achromatic lens cut in two, and so placed that the
distance of the centres of the apertures may be 2^- inches.
Several of these cameras were made in London, and give
the most perfect stereoscopic photographs ; but professional
artists have not found it their interest either to use small
lenses, to make each single photograph as perfect as pos¬
sible, or to place lenses at the distance of 2$ inches, in
order to combine these pictures into proper relief. Their
object has been to use lenses of such a size as to make the
time of taking the picture as short as possible, and produce
a startling degree of relief by placing the lenses at great
distances. Although these stereoscopic pictures may please
persons of neither taste nor judgment, yet they are most
incorrect representations of nature, which men of science
instantly discover. In all stereoscopic pictures taken at
angles above that which corresponds to a distance of 2J
inches, the distances are all drawn out, as it were. A street
is made twice as long ; and all buildings or objects stretch¬
ing from the eye are enormously increased in length. The
head of a portrait is drawn forward from the neck, and the
dress of a lady is made to project forward from her bust.
As every artist places his lenses at the distance he pleases,
and as very few employ the proper distance, the thousands
of stereoscopic photographs, nay, the millions now circu¬
lating in Europe, have no real artistic or geometrical value.
If we knew for certain that the distance of the lenses em¬
ployed were correctly 2^ inches, or even if we knew that it
was 4, 6, 8, or 10 inches, we could deduce from each pair
of pictures, by nice micrometrical measures, the actual
forms of the statue or person, or building or landscape,
which it represents, as the actual distances of the corre¬
sponding points in the two pictures would thus give us a
measure of the distances of these parts from the eye ;
the distance between the tips of the nose, for example, and
the points of the ears, and the pupils of the eyes, being mea¬
sures of the distances of these points from any plane per¬
pendicular to the eye, provided the distance of the lenses
was known. A sculptor could thus obtain, even from one
stereoscopic photograph, assistance in modelling a bust, and
a surveyor might make an approximate plan of a landscape
from even one correct stereoscopic representation of it.4
A very great improvement in the art of taking single as
well as binocular photographs has been made by Mr Thomas
1 Vol. 15, p. 349, 1843, or Phil Magazine, vol. xxv., pp. 356, 479, May and June 1844.
^ This is demonstrated in a more popular manner in Sir D. Brewster s Treatise on the Stereoscope, chap. v.
3 See our art. Optics, vol. xvi.
4 For further information on this subject, see Sir David Brewster’s Treatise on the Stereoscope, chap. viii.
Stereo -
type
Sterling.
pistolo-
graph.
Fig. 19.
S T E
Skaife, Vanbrugh House, Blackheath, the only artist who
has carried out the views of Sir David Brewster, as given
in his address to the Photographic Society of Edinburgh.1
In the instrument which he has invented for this purpose,
} and which he calls a Pistolograph, he uses lenses only an
^stolo-1 6 8 *n f^ameter'' ^ie f°cal length of the combination being
also an inch. The lens-tube, ABCD, of the pistolograph,
as shown of its real size in the annexed figure, in which
AB is the front and BC
the back, LL a cemented
achromatic lens of flint
and crown glass, and 11
an uncemented one, dif¬
fering only from the ordi¬
nary portrait-back combi¬
nation in being ground
—that when the two lenses
of which it is composed
are together, they touch
only at the margin of their inner surfaces. The solar focus
of the combined lenses is 1^ inches behind the right-hand
surface of the lens ll.
Owing to the small size of this instrument, and the small
thickness of the glass through which the light passes, the
actinic rays are so powerful that the photograph is taken
almost instantaneously, and portraits are not deformed by
the errors occasioned by the use of large lenses.2 The
small pictures, or pistolograms, as Mr Skaife calls them,
when not used for rings, lockets, or bracelets, may be mag¬
nified by the enlarging camera without losing any of their
sharpness.
I he pictures thus obtained are enclosed between two
plates of glass, “and when subjected for a definite time to
a heat short of that which is required to melt glass, the
three substances form but one, as hard and homogeneous
as a single piece of crystal.” To the picture thus enclosed
and preserved from the air, Mr Skaife gives the name of
Chromo-crystal. Some of those which we have seen are
extremely beautiful.3
craw’s im- ^ very ingenious improvement upon the binocular camera
has been made by Mr Macraw, of Edinburgh, by which he
can take two pairs of stereoscopic pictures upon a prepared
plate, which of course must be double the length required
for a single pair of pictures. For this purpose the prepared
plate is inserted in an inner frame AB, which slips in a
S T E
691
Mr Ma-
provement.
M
Fig. 20.
groove in the outer rim of the slide MN, with room at CD
equal to one of the four spaces, 1, 2, 3, 4, of the plate.
When the plate is placed as in the figure, the spaces 2, 4,
are opposite the lenses, and receive the picture ; and when
AB is pushed up to N, the spaces 1, 3, will be opposite the
lenses, and receive the second picture. (d. b.)
STEREOTYPE. See Printing.
STERLING, John, a man whose reputation will rest
henceforth much more on the fact of his having had
J homas Carlyle for his biographer than on any high merit
of his own, was born at Kaimes Castle, Isle of Bute, Scot¬
land, on the 20th July 1806. His father, Edward Sterling,
originally from the county Waterford, in Ireland, but of
Scottish descent, who had been educated for the Irish bar,
but who had subsequently taken to soldiering, was now
located among the shaggy mountains and sunny mists of
Bute, as a sort of gentleman-farmer; and who became
afterwards co-proprietor and chief editor of the Times
newspaper. His mother, Hester Coningham, a native of Sterling.
Londonderry, and likewise of Scottish origin, was a beau-
tiful, delicate, pious woman, from whom Sterling inherited
the “ delicate aroma” of his nature. He was the second
child of seven, five of whom died while he was still a
youth. In 1809, the Sterling family moved south to Llan-
blethian, in Wales. Here Edward Sterling began to write
letters to the Times, when his interest in politics induced
him to remove his family to Paris during the peace of
1814. Driven from the French capital next year by the
return of Napoleon from Elba, he settled down with his
family in London, and engaged in the profession of jour¬
nalism. This brave, blustering, noisy individual, whom
Carlyle was accustomed to call “ Captain Whirlwind,” has
been thus graphically delineated by the same hand. “ He
was broad, well built, stout of stature; had a long, lowish
head, sharp grey eyes, with large, strong aquiline face to
match; and walked or sat in an erect decisive manner. A
remarkable man.” After having attended various schools
in London or the neighbourhood, John Sterling was sent,
when he was turned of sixteen, to the University of Glas¬
gow, whence he was removed next year to Trinity College,
Cambridge. He did not distinguish himself as a scholar in
any particular branch while he resided at Cambridge, but
under the tutorship of Julius C. Hare (subsequently Arch¬
deacon of Lewes), he made very considerable progress,
and displayed a quick, keen, piercing intellect, and great
nobility of character. He particularly shone in connec¬
tion with the Union Debating Club of Cambridge, of which
Maurice, Trench, Spedding, J. M. Kemble, Venables,
Charles Buller, and Monckton Milnes, were members. It
is reported of Sterling, that he was the acknowledged
chief of this club in all matters pertaining to speaking and
arguing. Sterling; left Cambridge without having taken
his degree, and joined his friend Maurice in the intention
of studying law. These two aspiring youths, in 1828,
became possessors of the Athence.um, which they laboured
hard to write into public favour, but the enterprise did not
succeed, and the journal came into the hands of the pre¬
sent proprietor. Sterling about this period gained the
friendship of Coleridge, whose influence over his mind
was great and abiding, as Sterling’s novel of Arthur Con-
ingsby still testifies. Regarding this, his first regular con¬
tribution to literature, Carlyle remarks—•
“ It was in the sunny days, perhaps in May or June of this year,
(1833), that Arthur Coningsby reached my own hand, far off amid
the heathy wildernesses ; sent by John Mill: and I can still recol¬
lect the pleasant little episode it made in my solitude there. The
general impression it left on me, which has never since been re¬
newed by a second reading in whole or in part, was the certain
prefigurement to myself, more or less distinct, of an opulent, genial,
and sunny mind, but misdirected, disappointed, experienced in
misery ;—nay crude and hasty; mistaking for a solid outcome from
its woes what was only to me a gilded vacuity. The hero an
ardent youth, representing Sterling himself, plunges into life such
as we now have it in these anarchic times, with the radical, utili¬
tarian, or mutinous heathen theory, which is the readiest for in¬
quiring souls ; finds, by various courses of adventure, utter ship¬
wreck in this; lies broken, very wretched : that is the tragic no¬
dus, or apogee of his life-course. In this mood of mind, he clutches
desperately towards some new method (recognisable as Coleridge’s)
of laying hand again on the old Church, which has hitherto been
extraneous and as if non-extant to bis way of thought; makes out
by some Coleridgean legerdemain, that there actually is still a
Church for him ; that this extant Church, which he long took for
an extinct shadow, is not such, but a substance ; upon which he
can anchor himself amid the storms of fate :—and he does so even
takingorders in it, I think. Such could by no means seem to me
the true or tenable solution. Here clearly, struggling amid the
tumults, was a loveable young fellow-soul; who had by no means
yet got to land ; but of whom much might be hoped, if he ever did.
Some of the delineations are highly pictorial, flooded with a deep
1 Journal of the Photographic Society, vol. iv., p. 83.
^ W e could recommend the use of smaller lenses of rock crystal. (See Treatise on the Stereoscope, pp. 138-140.)
See Instantaneous Photography, including Practical Instructions on the Manipulation of the Pistolograph, by T. Skaife, Greenwich, 1860.
692
S T E
Sterling, ruddy effulgence; betokening much wealth, in the crude or the
v ^ y ripe state.”
Sterling’s means did not compel him to adopt a profession,
and from the nature of his talents, which were airy, graceful,
and light-flowing; and from slight symptoms of pulmonary
disease, he was withheld from binding himself down to any
form of steady labour. He married in November 1830, and,
taking suddenly ill shortly afterwards, he was forced to seek a
more genial climate than England afforded. He accordingly
started for the Island of St Vincent in the West Indies, where
part of a valuable sugar estate had been bequeathed to him
by a maternal uncle. Returning again to England in
August 1832, he resolved to make a short tour in Germany.
Chancing to meet his old tutor, the Rev. Julius C. Hare,
at Bonn, he was persuaded to enter the English Church,
and he was accordingly ordained deacon at Chichester in
1834, and immediately afterwards became curate of Herst-
monceaux in Sussex, where his friend Hare was rector.
Sterling remained in the Church for eight months, when,
on the plea of ill health, he gave up his curacy, and pos¬
sibly from some radical change in his opinions, real or
imaginary, bade good-bye to the Church for ever.
Going to London in February 1835, he chanced to meet
Thomas Carlyle for the first time, who had settled in London
the previous summer. Carlyle describes Sterling as he then
appeared, as follows: “ A loose, careless-looking, thin figure,
in careless dim costume, sat in a lounging posture, carelessly
and copiously talking. I was struck with the kindly but rest¬
less, swift-glancing eyes, which looked as if the spirits were
all out coursing like a pack of merry eager beagles, beating^
every bush. The brow rather sloping in form, was not of
imposing character, though, again, the head was longish,
which is always the best sign of intellect; the physiognomy
in general indicated animation rather than strength.” From
this time Carlyle began to occupy the place of Mentor to
Sterling, which had been so long held by Coleridge. Art,
as Carlyle has remarked, was Sterling’s/orte, and not devo¬
tion in any form. Literature was henceforward his chief
pursuit. His exceedingly precarious state of health caused
him to lead a nomadic kind of life, which alternated be¬
tween London and some warmer climate. In 1836 he
went to the south of France; next year to Madeira, which
he revisited again in 1840. Part of 1838 and 1839 he
spent in Italy, and on his return to England he sought
Clifton, and ultimately Falmouth. Carlyle, in his Life of
John Sterling, says,—
“ Sterling’s bodily disease was the expression, under physical con¬
ditions, of the too vehement life which, under the moral, the
intellectual, and other aspects, incessantly struggled within him.
Too vehement;—which would have required a frame of oak and
iron to contain it: in a thin though most wiry body of flesh and
hone, it incessantly “ wore holes,” and so found outlet for itself. He
could take no rest, he had never learned that art; he was, as we
often reproached him, fatally incapable of sitting still. ^ Rapidity,
as of pulsing auroras, as of dancing lightnings; rapidity in all
forms characterised him. This, which was his bane, in many
senses, being the real origin of his disorder, and of such continual
necessity to move and change,—was also his antidote, so far as anti¬
dote there might be ; enabling him to love change, and to snatch,
as few others could have done, from the waste chaotic years, all
tumbled into ruin by incessant change, what hours and minutes of
available turned up.’5
Sterling had meanwhile contributed to BlackwootLs
Magazine and to the Westminster Review, then under the
charge of John Stuart Mill. “ He had,” says Carlyle, “ an
incredible facility of labour. He flashed with most piercing
glance into a subject; gathered it up into organic utterability
with truly wonderful despatch, considering the success and
truth attained, and threw it on paper with a swift felicity,
ingenuity, brilliancy, and general excellence, of which,
under such conditions of swiftness, I have never seen a
parallel.” In order to meet a number of his literary friends
S T E
on occasion of his hasty visits to London, the “ Sterling Sternberg.
Club” was formed, of which Carlyle, J. C. Hare, G. C. Lewis,
John S. Mill, Tennyson, and others, were members. In
1839 he published a small volume of poems, which were
almost ignored by the public, and in 1841 he again tried it
with the Election, a Poem in seven hooks. In 1843 he
published Strafford, a Tragedy. He had the great afflic¬
tion during the same year to lose both his mother and his
wife, who died within two hours of each other.
“ If Sterling,” says Carlyle, f£ has done little in literature, we
may ask, What other man than he, in such circumstances, could have
done anything ? In virtue of these rapid faculties, which otherwise
cost him so dear, he has built together, out of those wavering boil¬
ing quicksands of his few later years, a result which may justly sur¬
prise us. There is actually some result in those poor two volumes
gathered from him, such as they are ; he that reads there will not
wholly lose his time, nor rise with a malison instead of a blessing on
the writer. Here actually is a real seer-glance, of some compass, into
the world of our day ; blessed glance, once more, of an eye that is
human; truer than one of a thousand, and beautifully capable of mak¬
ing others see with it. I have known considerable temporary repu¬
tations gained, considerable piles of temporary guineas, with loud
reviewing and the like to match, on a far less basis than lies in
those two volumes. Those also, I expect, will be held in memory
by the world, one way or other, till the world has extracted all its
benefit from them. Graceful, ingenious, and illuminative reading,
of their sort, for all manner of inquiring souls. A little verdant
flowery island of poetic intellect, of melodious human verity ; sunlit
island founded on the rocks;—which the enormous circumambient
continents of mown reedgrass and floating lumber, with their
mountain-ranges of ejected stable-litter however alpine, cannot by
any means or chance submerge : nay, I expect, they will not even
quite hide it, this modest little island, from the well-discerning;
but will float past it towards the place appointed for them, and
leave said island standing.”
He was engaged during his last days on another poem,
entitled Cceur de which he did not survive to complete.
Sterling died at Ventnor, in the Isle of Wight, on the
18th September 1844, aged thirty-eight years.
Carlyle has the following remarks on Sterling’s general
appearance and manner :—
“ Sterling was of rather slim but well-boned wiry figure, perhaps
an inch or two from six feet in height; of blonde complexion, with¬
out colour, yet not pale or sickly ; dark-blonde hair, copious enough,
which he usually wore short. The general aspect of him indicated
freedom, perfect spontaneity, with a certain careless natural grace.
In his apparel, you could notice, he affected dim colours, easy
shapes ; cleanly always, yet even in this not fastidious or conspic¬
uous : he sat or stood, oftenest, in loose sloping postures ; walked
with long strides, body carelessly bent, head flung eagerly forward,
right hand perhaps grasping a cane, and rather by the middle to
swing it, than by the end to use it otherwise. An attitude of frank,
cheerful impetuosity, of hopeful speed, and alacrity; which indeed
his physiognomy, on all sides of it, offered as the chief expression.
Alacrity, velocity, joyous ardour, dwelt in the eyes too, which were
of brownish gray, full of bright kindly life, rapid and frank rather
*han deep or strong. A smile, half of kindly impatience, half of
real mirth, often sat on his face.”
To Archdeacon Hare and Thomas Carlyle were committed
the care of Sterling’s literary character and printed writings.
In 1848 appeared accordingly Essays and Tales, in two vols.,
by John Sterling, with a memoir prefixed by Archdeacon
Hare. This biography had the misfortune to represent
merely the character of Sterling as a clergyman ; and Car¬
lyle, who had loved the man with all the depth and fervour
of no ordinary nature, resolved to re-write his biography,
taking care to present Sterling in something like the human
aspect which he wore among men. This work was published
in one vol. in 1851. It is perhaps the greatest biographi¬
cal achievement of this century.
STERNBERG, a town of the Austrian Empire, Mo¬
ravia, in the circle and 10 miles N.N.E. of Olmiitz. It is for
the most part well built; and has an old castle of the princes
of Liechtenstein, a church, Augustinian convent, military
school, &c. Cotton and hosiery are manufactured here ; and
S T E
S T E
693
Sterne, as the town stands at the junction of several roads, there is
a considerable trade, chiefly in linen. Pop. 12,400.
STERNE, Laurence, an eminent writer of fiction, has
left behind him a sketch of the principal events of his life,
and some particulars of his family history. From that out¬
line it appears that he was born at Clonmel, in the south of
Ireland, on the 24th November 1713. His father was a
lieutenant in the army, and grandson of Dr Richard Sterne,
archbishop of York. When his son was about eight years
of age, Lieutenant Sterne placed him at a school in Hali¬
fax, to which town he had been conducted by his profes¬
sional duties. That officer died in 1731, and in the follow¬
ing year, young Sterne, by the bounty of a relation and
namesake of his own, was transferred from the school of
Halifax to Jesus College, Cambridge. Having completed
his studies at the university, he proceeded to York; and
his uncle, Dr Jacques Sterne, prebendary of Durham, and
canon residentiary and precentor of York, procured him
the living of Sutton, and afterwards a prebend at York.
At York he formed an acquaintance with the lady who
afterwards became his wife, under circumstances sufficiently
romantic. From a friend of hers he obtained the living of
Stillington, but continued for twenty years to reside at
Sutton, relieving the burden of his double charge, as he
informs us, “ by books, painting, fiddling, and shooting.”
In the library of Shelton Castle, the residence of his friend
and relation, John Hall Stevenson, author of a licentious
production, entitled Crazy Tales, Sterne found among the
dross of antiquity many a brilliant gem, which he trans¬
ferred without scruple to his own pages. In this stolen
garb he cut a most imposing figure, until Dr Ferriar of
Manchester, twenty years after the death of the celebrated
plagiary, restored the pilfered trappings to the rightful owners.
(See Dr Ferriar’s Illustrations of Sterne, Lond., 1790, 8vo.)
In 1759, Sterne produced the first two volumes of Tris¬
tram Shandy, which procured him both money and repu¬
tation. In these volumes there was abundance of matter
which every one could relish ; and what was unintelligible
was thought profound. Much ingenious speculation was
squandered upon the black leaves and marbled pages,
which were long contemplated with wonder, before they
were discovered to mean nothing. “ The republic of dark
authors,” says Swift, “ have been peculiarly happy in the
variety, as well as extent, of their reputation.” Before
this period Sterne had only printed two sermons. The
two volumes of Tristram Shandy were succeeded by two
volumes of Sermons. In 1761 appeared the third and
fourth volumes of the novel, and the fifth and sixth in the
year following. The seventh and eighth volumes were
published in 1765 ; but these monstrous births had by that
time ceased to please. Four volumes of Sermons were
produced in 1766; and in 1767 these were followed by the
ninth and last volume of Tristram Shandy. In 1768
Sterne returned from Italy, whither he had repaired in the
hopes of finding relief for a consumptive complaint with
which he had long been afflicted. He only survived to
prepare for the press the first part of his Sentimental
Journey, which was published in 1768. In the month of
March of that year he expired at his lodgings in Bond
Street, surrounded by strangers, a mode of death which he
considered as most desirable.
The English writer to whom the author of Tristram
Shandy is most indebted for his matter is Burton; and his
manner bears some resemblance to the capricious, whimsi¬
cal, and digressive Tale of a Tub. He even mimics Swift
in sneering at “ the great Drydenbut in the writings of
his prototype he might have found many things infinitely
more worthy of imitation. In order to make room for his
pathos, however, he eschewed the misanthropy of the dean
ot St Patrick’s, and set up for a lover of his species, to
which character his claims were less than equivocal, for his
philanthropy did not extend so far as to his own mother.
That sensibility is worthy only of ridicule that bestows a
tear with greater promptitude than a shilling.
The humour of Swift and Rabelais, whom Sterne pre¬
tended to succeed, came from them as naturally as song
from a bird ; they lose nothing of their manly dignity in
laughing their great laugh as nature bade them. But
Sterne, who can make you laugh and cry by turns, who
w ill not permit you any repose, he is but a great jester
rather than a great humourist. Yet, nevertheless, a critic
who refuses to see in many charming descriptions of Sterne’s,
wit, humour, pathos, and sometimes even real sentiment,
must (be hard to please. If the last words the famous
author wrote were bad and wicked, the last words written
by the stricken man were for pity and pardon.
STERNHOLD, Thomas, was born in Hampshire to¬
wards the latter half of the fifteenth century. He had his
education at Oxford, was chosen groom of the robes to
Henry VIII. and retained the same office under his suc¬
cessor, and died in August 1549.
Sternhold’s only claim to distinction is his having exe¬
cuted part of an English metrical version of the Psalms
usually attached to the Book of Common Prayer, and
characterized by all the bad taste and vulgar bathos of a
street-ballad. His version of fifty-one of the Psalms was
published after his death in 1549, and bore the title of,
All such Psalm of David as Thomas Sternholde did in his
Lyfe drawe into English Metre, 8vo, London. Sternhold
was likewise the author of Certain Chapters of the Pro¬
verbs of Solomon drawen into metre, 8vo, London, 1549.
Sternhold found even a ruder hand than his own to con¬
tinue the metrical labour which he had begun. The edi¬
tion of Sternhold and Hopkins appeared in 1562 with the
title of The whole Booke of Psalmes, collected into Eng¬
lish metre. As Campbell observes, in his Specimens of
English Poetry, these men, “ with the best intentions and
the worst taste, degraded the spirit of Plebrew Psalmody
by flat and homely phraseology, and, mistaking vulgarity
for simplicity, turned into bathos what they found sublime.”
(See also Warton’s History of English Poetry, vol. iii.,
edition of 1840.)
STESICHORUS (Sr^cnxopos), a famous Greek poet,
said to have been born in Himera in Sicily B.c. 632. He
was accordingly a contemporary of Sappho, Alcaeus, Pitta-
cus, and Phalaris. His father was probably a native of
Mataurus, which would go far to explain the tradition of
his being sprung from Hesiod, for it is well known that in
that district there lived a race of epic poets who claimed
kindred with the most ancient singer of Greece. The
name which this poet is said first to have received was
Tisias, and afterwards it was converted into Stesichorus,
from his first having established a chorus for singing to the
harp. Like all great poets his birth is said to have been
accompanied by an omen. A nightingale is said to have
sat upon the babe’s lips and sung. Little is known regard¬
ing his life with certainty. The myths of Suidas unfortu¬
nately render the authentic portion of his narrative quite un¬
trustworthy. Stesichorus probably died at Catanna sometime
between 560 b.c. and 552 b.c., at the age of eighty, or, pro¬
bably, eighty-five. He was one of the nine great lyric poets
recognised by the ancients. His choral odes contained all
the essential elements of perfect choral poetry. He was
the first to break the monotony of the strophe and anti¬
strophe, by the introduction of the epode. Kleine, who
has furnished by far the most useful edition of the frag¬
ments of Stesichorus (Berolini, 1828), has classified his
extant poems into mythical poems, hymns, erotic poems,
pastoral poems, fables, and elegies. The fragments of
Stesichorus w'ere first printed together with the works of
Pindar in 1560. Among recent editions are those of Such-
fort, Schneidewin, Bergk, Blomfield, and Gaisford.
Sternhold
Stesichorus
S T E
694
S T E
Stetho¬
scope
Stettin.
STETHOSCOPE, a wooden cylinder about eighteen
inches long, invented by M. Laennec of Paris in 1823, and
used by modern medical practitioners to ascertain the healthy
or morbid condition of the organs within the chest. It is well
known that wood is an excellent conductor of the vibra¬
tions that give the sensation of sound, and that, if a person
scratch one end of a log of wood many yards in length,
another person, by putting his ear to the other extremity,
will distinctly hear every sound emitted. On this prin¬
ciple, the stethoscope has been invented. It is now fre¬
quently made of gutta-percha. The heart, by its violent
and incessant action, imparts a motion and thrilling to the
walls of the chest, which an observer can loudly hear by
applying the ear to the left side ; and the Stethoscope
enables him to obtain the same information, with less
trouble to the patient, and without anything disagreeable
to the most delicate feelings. Hence, those who are well
practised in the use of the stethoscope, and who have com¬
pared their observations on the living body with the ap¬
pearances found in the dead bodies of those who have died
of diseases of the heart, are enabled to detect enlargement
of that organ, ossification of its valves, or aneurism of the
great vessels. In diseases of the lungs, likewise, and even
of the abdominal viscera, the stethoscope is a most valuable
means of diagnosis.
STETTIN, a fortified town of the Prussian dominions,
capital of the province of Pomerania, on the left bank of
the Oder, which is here crossed by two bridges, leading to
the suburb of Lastadie on the other side, 78 miles N.E. of
Berlin. Immediately below the town the Oder expands
into the wide lake of Stettin, through which it falls into
the Baltic. The fortifications of the town are strong, and
include part of the suburbs across the river. They are
entered by five principal and several smaller gates; two of
the former, the King’s Gate and the Berlin Gate, are richly
adorned with emblematical figures, and are among the
finest structures of the kind in Germany. The town is
old, and in general well built, containing several large and
handsome squares. The public buildings, however, are
not very conspicuous or remarkable. Among these, the
most important is the ancient castle, which was the resi¬
dence of the Dukes of Pomerania from 1575 till the line
became extinct in 1637. In the chapel of the castle is the
ducal vault. The castle contains a collection of northern
antiquities, now in course of formation, and has a lofiy
tower which commands a fine prospect over the town and
neighbourhood. In one of the public squares of Stettin
stands a fine marble statue of Frederick the Great, and
another of Frederick William III. of the same material.
The town-hall, exchange, and theatre are among the chief
edifices of the town. Its churches are not very noteworthy,
if we except the massive and venerable St James’, which
occupies a conspicuous position on a hill near the centre of
the town. The oldest part of this building goes back as far
as the 13th century. The other Protestant churches are four
in number, and there is one belonging to the Roman Catho¬
lics. Stettin is the see of a bishop, and has a court of law
and public offices. There is a gymnasium, with a library,
museum, and observatory attached to it, several other
schools of various kinds, a workhouse, hospitals, and other
benevolent institutions. The manufactures of the town
are very extensive, including linen, woollen, and cotton
cloth, canvas, leather, hosiery, hats, soap, tobacco, beer,
and sugar. Ships and boats are also built here, and ship’s
anchors are forged for all the vessels of the Prussian states.
The trade of Stettin is great and rapidly increasing. It is
not only one of the chief ports of Prussia, but at the same
time the most important commercial town on the shores of
the Baltic. The following table exhibits the quantities and
values of the principal articles exported and imported at
Stettin in the year 1854:—
Articles.
Bones (cwt.)
Coffee  „
Grain, of diff. kinds (bushels)
Herrings   (barrels)
Iron of all kinds (cwt.)
Oil of different kinds and 1
oil-cakes (cwt). J
Rice  „
Wine  „
Wood  „
Imports.
Quantity Value,
56,942
503,590
140,740
451,896
232,258
151,815
104,584
2,738
L.
290,404
101,074
188,999
184,051
689,480
158,105
251,001
2,053
Exports.
Quantity. Value
60,871
1,854,340
797
45,629
L.
136,809
554,201
703
28,171
306,653
Steuben¬
ville
II
Stevenson,
And the total value of the exports and imports for each
year from 1850 to 1854 was as follows:—
The total number of vessels, exclusive of those in the
coasting trade, that entered at the port in 1852 was 720,
tonnage, 150,404; and of those that cleared in the same
year the number was 723, and the tonnage 160,148.
Stettin is a place of great antiquity. It owes its origin to
a Wendish castle, and as early as 830 there was a consider¬
able village on the spot. In those early ages a temple of
the Wendish idol Trigloff, which stood here, was several
times destroyed and rebuilt again, while Christianity and
Paganism by turns got the upper hand in their struggle lor
the country, and when Christianity was finally introduced,
about the beginning of the 13th century, immense treasures
of gold, silver, and precious stones were found stored up in
it. The town shared in the vicissitudes of this part of
Pomerania, which are narrated in the article Pomerania,
belonging at one time to Denmark, at another to Sweden,
and finally to Prussia. Two Russian empresses Catherine
the Great, and Maria Feoderowna, wife of Paul the succes¬
sor of Catherine, were born here. Pop. (1858) 53,103.
STEUBENVILLE, a town of the United States of
North America, capital of Jefferson county, in the state of
Ohio, on the Ohio, 35 miles W. by S. of Pittsburg. It
occupies an elevated position, in the midst of a beautiful
country, and contains county buildings, numerous churches,
an academy and a school, two banks, and several news¬
paper offices. The manufactures of the town are extensive,
including woollen and cotton fabrics, paper, glass, machi¬
nery, &c. There are also several iron-foundries and flour¬
mills. The whole manufactories employ more than 1000
hands. Pop. (1850) 6139.
STEVENSON, Robert, an eminent civil engineer,
was born at Glasgow in 1772, and died at Edinburgh in
1850. The death of his father, a West India merchant,
left him while yet an infant in very disadvantageous cir¬
cumstances ; but, by the energy and self-denial of his
mother, who had designed her only child for the church,
he obtained a good education, and acquired some tincture
of classical learning. The bent of his mind, however, was
decidedly towards the physical sciences; and having early
imbibed an enthusiastic admiration of Smeaton, which he
retained through life, he resolved to follow the profession
of a civil engineer. In spite of many discouragements,
which he bore with hopefulness and patience, he succeeded
in prosecuting his studies, first in the Andersonian Institu¬
tion, then recently opened at Glasgow, and afterwards at
the University of Edinburgh, under Robison, Dugald
Stewart, and Playfair. In 1797 he became engineer to
the Board of Northern Lighthouses, an office which he
S T E
Stevenson, held for nearly half a century ; and during his incumbency,
he erected no fewer than twenty-three lighthouses, includ¬
ing that of the Bell Rock, which alone is sufficient to
stamp his reputation as an engineer. Some description of
this remarkable rock will be found under the head Light¬
houses, and it is not needful, in this place, to do more than
say that Mr Stevenson displayed, in its design and execu¬
tion, great mechanical skill and practical sagacity, as well
as untiring perseverance and indomitable courage. Fol¬
lowing the model of the Eddystone, which he greatly
revered, he yet made some important improvements in
framing his own design, and in particular he succeeded in
converting the floors of the apartments, whose outward
disruptive thrust, Smeaton had contrived to counteract by
an ingenious expedient, into really conservative bonds or
ties for tbe whole edifice. He also greatly improved the
optical and mechanical arrangements of the lighthouses,
and added some valuable distinctions, especially the flash¬
ing and intermittent lights, for enabling the mariner to
identify the lights on a coast.
In the course of his general practice as a civil engineer,
he designed and executed many important works in various
parts of the United Kingdom, and among others bridges
at Glasgow and Stirling. The fine approach to the city of
Edinburgh by the Calton Hill was also designed by him
and formed under his eye. He traced and designed the
lines of many canals and railways, which have since been
executed much in accordance with the recommendations
in his numerous printed reports. There is scarcely a har¬
bour or navigable river in Britain about which his advice,
which was often also called for in Ireland, was not at some
time given. His printed reports and other contributions
to the knowledge of engineering extend, when collected,
to five thick quarto volumes.
He was not naturally of a scheming turn of mind, yet he
occasionally assumed the character of an inventor, as in
the case of his ingenious suggestion of a new form of sus¬
pension-bridge for small spans, in which, by passing the
chains under the roadway, the necessity for tall piers is
avoided. Several bridges have been executed on this plan.
For timber bridges, also, he proposed a simple and beautiful
construction of arch, in wdiich the ring course consists of
layers of thin planks bent to the circular form, and stiffened
by means of the vertical frame-work supporting the hori¬
zontal beams on which the level roadway rests. This kind
of bridge has come into very general use on railways. He
is, moreover, entitled to the merit of first having pointed
out the advantage of using malleable iron for the rails of
our iron ways. He also first called attention to the inter¬
esting fact which he first detected at the mouth of the Dee,
in Aberdeenshire, that even in the case of our small rivers
the fresh water they bring down floats for some distance on
the surface of the sea before mingling with the salt water.
This fact he demonstrated by the use of an instrument
which enabled him to take water from any depth and draw
it to the surface, unmixed with any of the intermediate
fluid.
Robert Stevenson possessed great sagacity, buoyant
fortitude, and untiring perseverance; and he was early
remarkable for scrupulous punctuality in all his engage¬
ments. In private life he was a man of sterling worth,
and full, even in his last years, of that genial unselfishness
and generosity which in so many men do not outlive their
boyhood. His whole mind was elevated by habitual and
unobtrusive piety. The remembrance of his early struggles
never left him, but seemed to influence him much in his
unwearied efforts to forward the progress of young men
through life, a duty which he considered as sacred and in
winch he greatly delighted, and from the prosecution of
which no personal inconvenience ever made him swerve.
Towards himself he practised something like the old Roman
S T E 695
self-denial ; and up to the close of his long and laborious steward
life, he would never permit his age to be pleaded as a reason ||
for shrinking from the calls of duty. (a. s.) Stewart.
STEWARD, an officer appointed in another’s stead or
place, and always taken for a principal officer within his
jurisdiction. Of these there are various kinds. The
greatest officer under the crown is the lord high steward of
England, whose office was anciently the inheritance of the
earls of Leicester, till forfeited by Simon de Montfort to
King Henry III. But the power of this officer is so very
great, that it has not been judged safe to trust it any longer
in the hands of a subject, excepting only for a particular
occasion, as to officiate at a coronation, or at the arraign¬
ment of a nobleman for high treason or felony. During
his office the steward bears a white staff in his hand, and
when the trial is ended he breaks the staff, and with it his
commission expires. There is likewise a lord-steward of
the king’s household, who is the chief officer of the king’s
court, has the care of the king’s house, and authority over
all the officers and servants of the household except such
as belong to the chapel, chamber, and stable. The court
of the lord high steward of Great Britain is a court insti¬
tuted for the trial of peers indicted for treason or felony, or
for misprision of either.
STEWART, Dugald, was born in Edinburgh, 22d
November 1753. He w'as the son of Dr Matthew Stewart,
at that time the eminent Professor of Mathematics in
the University, and of Marjory, only child of Archibald
Stewart of Catrine, writer to the signet in Edinburgh. Mr
Stewart’s father and grandfather were both clergymen of
the Church of Scotland,—the former having been minister
of Rothesay for upwards of fifty years, and the latter having
held the charge of Roseneath, before his appointment, as
the successor of Colin Maclaurin, to the chair of mathe¬
matics in the University of Edinburgh.
Mr Stewart received the principal part of his early edu¬
cation at the High School of his native city, where, under
the instruction of the celebrated Dr Alexander Adam, he
laid the foundation of those classical tastes and accomplish¬
ments which he cherished through life, and the influence
of which was so strongly marked in the course of his subse¬
quent career as thinker, professor, and author. From the
High School, Mr Stewart passed to the University of
Edinburgh, where he studied for four sessions, from 1765-
66 to 1768-69. The two names which the young student
of arts in the metropolitan university of last century heard
mentioned with the greatest reverence, and was taught to
honour above all others, were Bacon and Newton. The
assiduous pursuit of physical and mathematical science,
after the manner of the great Restorer of learning and his
disciple, was the most notable feature of university life in
Edinburgh during the first half of the eighteenth century.
This change in the character of the university studies, from
the more abstract and technical culture of the preceding
century, was chiefly due to the energy and enthusiasm of
the three Gregorys and of Colin Maclaurin. The general
method of scientific research, by which results so splendid
as those of Newton had been achieved, naturally attracted
a large share of attention. Accordingly we find that at the
period of Mr Stewart’s attendance at the university, the
character of the Inductive Method formed a special topic
in the prelections of the Professor of Natural Philosophy
(James Russell), while, in the lectures of the Professors
of Logic and Moral Philosophy, the importance of the ap¬
plication of the same method to the Science of Mind was
impressively inculcated. By those influences was the
youthful mind of Stewart powerfully moulded. He thus
naturally imbibed that admiration of the spirit, method, and
aims of Bacon which so strongly predominated through
his entire life, intellectual and moral, and at the same time
acquired that taste for physical and mathematical science
696 S T E W A E T.
Stewart, which he conjoined with his distinctive attachment to re-
Dugald. flective studies.
It was, however, in the Logic and Moral Philosophy
class-rooms that Mr Stewart found objects of study more
immediately congenial to his taste and capacities. John
Stevenson, the Professor of Logic, though not an original
thinker, was nevertheless a careful and efficient instructor,
as has been gratefully commemorated by more than one
pupil, who afterwards rose to eminence in life. Stevenson,
during Stewart’s attendance on his course of lectures,
showed the greatness of his mind by candidly giving up, as
insufficient and in part erroneous, doctrines which he had
inculcated during the greater portion of a long life, when,
in his later years, he became convinced, on grounds ad¬
duced by another, of their inadequacy,—an exemplification
of the philosophical spirit which gained the admiration and
lived in the memory of his youthful auditors. The pre¬
ceptor by whom Mr Stewart was most strongly influenced
at this period was doubtless Adam Ferguson, the accom¬
plished Professor of Moral Philosophy. With Ferguson
Stewart had much in common. The pupil naturally and
cordially sympathised with the admiration of classical anti¬
quity, the fervid eloquence, the liberal political doctrines,
and, above all, the lofty and ennobling ethical views, which
characterised his instructor. Dr Ferguson, moreover, very
early discovered and appreciated the peculiar capacity of his
pupil for reflective studies. About this period Mr Stewart
appears to have entertained the design of studying for the
Church of England. The University of Glasgow then, as at
present, afforded facilities to young men of talent and appli¬
cation for pursuing a course of study at Oxford. Stewart
accordingly entered that university in 1771-72, partly with
a view to the Snell Exhibition, but also, influenced hy the
recommendation of Ferguson, that he might enjoy the
privilege of the prelections of Dr Thomas Reid, whose
Inquiry into the Human Mind (1764) was already regarded
by thinking men as the inauguration of a new epoch in
Speculative Philosophy. Reid occupied a chair which had
been rendered celebrated by his predecessors, Hutcheson
and Adam Smith. Its influence and lustre were destined
even more greatly to increase during Reid’s professoriate.
While powerfully combating the fundamental doctrines of
Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, the prelections of Reid were
admirably fitted to evoke and regulate the philosophical
capacity of his pupils. In a style lucid, simple, and devoid of
technicality or much speculative refinement, he inculcated
a philosophy of the nature, origin, and bounds of human
knowledge, at once independent and restrained, and bear¬
ing in all its parts strong traces of that fresh and vigorous
reflection, manliness, earnestness, and lofty aim by which
he was so eminently characterised. Stewart caught the
spirit of his instructor, and intelligently appreciated his
philosophical method and purpose. During a long lifetime,
consecrated to Philosophy, Stewart nourished that spirit in
Scotland, and continued and extended the application of
the method with a freshness, power, delicacy, amplitude of
learning and illustration, all his own,—evincing that he was
no mere inheritor of a dead tradition, but a true disciple,
in whose mind principles quickened and grew, until they
effloresced in all the fulness and variety of life and beauty.
In 1772, Mr Stewart, at the early age of nineteen, under¬
took the charge of the mathematical classes in the Univer¬
sity of Edinburgh, in room of his father, whose health was
beginning to decline. These classes he conducted with
marked ability and success. After acting for three years
as his father’s substitute, he was formally elected conjoint
Professor of Mathematics, June 14th 1775. During ses¬
sion 1778-79, Mr Stewart conducted the class of Moral
Philosophy, at the urgent request of Professor Ferguson,
who had engaged to accompany the American Commis¬
sioners as their secretary on their mission to the colo¬
nies. Mr Stewart commenced an original course of lectures Stewart,
on Morals after only a week’s notice. He was at the Dugald.
same time engaged for three hours daily as Professor of S*sv^fc,/
Mathematics, giving during the session a course of lec¬
tures on Astronomy for the first time. His brilliant ap¬
pearances in this new and congenial sphere as a lecturer in
Philosophy were long remembered by his auditors. In
1783 he visited Paris for the first time along with his
friend, Lord Ancrum, afterwards Marquis of Lothian. On
his return to Scotland in the autumn of the same year,
he married Helen, daughter of Mr Neil Bannatyne,
Glasgow. Mrs Stewart died in 1787, leaving an only
child, afterwards Lieutenant-Colonel Matthew Stewart.
Mr Stewart again married in 1790 Helen D’Arcy Crans-
toun, daughter of the Hon. George Cranstoun, and sister
of the Countess Purgstall and of Lord Corehouse. On
the resignation of the professorship by Dr Ferguson in
1785, Mr Stewart was transferred from the Chair of Ma¬
thematics to that of Moral Philosophy. From his appoint¬
ment to this chair until his retirement from active acade-
demical duty in 1810, Mr Stewart exercised by his teach¬
ing alone, without taking into account the concurrent and
more general impression made by his published writings,
a wide, powerful, and peculiarly elevating and refining in¬
fluence. Among his students were to be found not only
the youth of Scotland, but many, and these of the highest
rank, from England. The continent of Europe and Ame¬
rica likewise furnished a number of pupils.
The sphere of investigation which Mr Stewart proposed
to himself in the Chair of Moral Philosophy was far from
being limited by the science of Ethics proper. The ground-
plan of his course was a study of the human mind in the
totality of its phenomena; or, to use more recent phrase¬
ology, the science of General Psychology. With this as a
basis, or root, he connected Metaphysics proper, or the
science of First Principles; the application of these prin¬
ciples in Natural Theology; Ethics proper; the theory of
Taste; Politics, including the theory of Government and Po¬
litical Economy. As a philosophical lecturer, Stewart must
be allowed to have held a high place, though the character
of his mind was not severely analytic or abstract. With¬
out habitually offering a definite determination of the ques¬
tions which he discussed, he had the faculty of unfolding
comprehensive fields of thought, and thus of exciting, in a
high degree, the intellectual activity of his students. He
possessed, moreover, and wielded wdth the ease of a master,
the power of sketching ideals of human life and action,
which inspired in many of his youthful hearers an en¬
thusiasm at once so intense and continuous as to influence
and mould their whole future character. His mode of
lecturing, that of speaking from notes, was well suited to
the character of his mind, and to his treatment of philos¬
ophical themes. It allowed full scope for the imagination
and feelings, and left unimpeded the flow of a versatile and
abundant eloquence, which, as occasion required, was grace¬
ful, tender, and sublime. “ Dugald Stewart,” says Lord
Cockburn, himself a pupil, “ was one of the greatest of
didactic orators. Had he lived in ancient times, his memory
would have descended to us as that of one of the finest of
the old eloquent sages. But his lot was better cast.
Flourishing in an age which required all the dignity of
morals to counteract the tendencies of physical pursuits
and political convulsions, he has exalted the character of
his country and generation. No intelligent pupil of his
ever ceased to respect philosophy, or was ever false to his
principles, without feeling the crime aggravated by the
recollection of the morality which Stewart had taught him.”
Mr Stewart gave from the beginning of his career as
professor lectures on Politics proper, or the Theory of
Government, in connection with his course of Moral Philos¬
ophy. In the winter of 1800, he commenced a separate
STEWART.
Stewart,
Dugald.
course of lectures on Political Philosophy, which, in addi¬
tion to Politics proper, embraced also the recent science of
Political Economy. In his lectureson Political Economy, Mr
Stewart accepts in general the results of the speculations of
the French economists and of Adam Smith. He concurs
with the economists and Smith in advocating the propriety
of allowing the freest scope for individual interest and effort
in the matter of trade, and the unrestricted exchange between
nations of the varied products of their industry. On this
point, indeed, Stewart sought to give to the principles of
the Wealth of JS ations a wider application than their author
had allowed ; for he maintained against Smith the impolicy
of those restrictions known as the navigation laws, which
were only finally abolished in 1850. To the political teach¬
ings of Stewart, the present generation owes more than it can
well appreciate. At a time when the mere discussion of the
fundamental principles of Politics and Political Economy
was sufficient to excite suspicion of disaffectedness to the
interests of the country, and of sympathy with revolutionary
tendencies, Stewart had the courage, in his place as a uni¬
versity professor, to canvass those questions, and to seek to
inculcate on the intelligent youth of the land opinions of so
advanced a character, that they did not meet with general
appreciation and acceptance until long after the period of
their promulgation.
In March 1792, Mr Stewart gave to the world the first
volume of Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind.
1 his volume was his earliest contribution towards that
scheme of a comprehensive delineation of the human mind,
which he had proposed to himself as the grand aim of his
life. The volume is chiefly psychological ; and, after pre¬
liminary remarks on the nature, ends, and utility of philos¬
ophy, deals with the powers of Knowledge, embracing Ex¬
ternal Perception, Attention, Conception, the Laws of Asso¬
ciation, Memory, and Imagination. At the period of the
publication of the first volume of the Elements, philoso¬
phical speculation, at least in England, was of the lowest
sensational school. The theorists in philosophy of that time
sought to explain the mental phenomena by the material
hypothesis of vibrations and vibratiuncles, and by an ex¬
aggerated application of the principle of Association. No¬
thing, accordingly, could be more opportune than the
appearance of the first volume ^ Mr Stewart’s writings at
the period in question. In spirit and matter, the kind of
thinking which these writings successively exemplified, was
fitted to impart an elevated tone to the current speculation
and feeling of the age, alike in Psychology, Metaphysics,
and Morals.
In 1793 Mr Stewart read before the Royal Society his
Account of the Life and Writings of Adam Smith. His
Memoir of Principal Robertson, and that of Dr Reid, were
read before the same body,—the former in 1 796, the latter
in 1802. In 1805 appeared his first pamphlet on what was
known as the Leslie case, entitled, A Statement of Facts,
fyc.; and, in December of the same year, he added a second
pamphlet, Entitled, Postscript to Statement of Facts. The
Statement of Facts, though hastily written, is remarkable
for the clearness and ability with which it disentangles the
real point at issue from the mass of irrelevant matter which,
as usually happens, was raised in the popular discussion of
a purely philosophical question. On general and historical
grounds Mr Stewart seeks to vindicate, within certain limits,
the doctrine of Causation, the approval of which by Mr
Leslie was made the ground of objection to his appointment
to the Chair of Natural Philosophy. Mr Stewart especially
endeavours to show that the doctrine which teaches that
the utmost we can observe in physical sequences is simply
invariable antecedence and consequence, is both theologi¬
cally innocuous, and the only safe opinion. The contro¬
versy was finally decided in favour of Mr Leslie.
In 1806, Mr Stewart received the appointment of the
VOL. XX.
697
writership of the Edinburgh Gazette, as a recognition of Stewart,
the services which he had rendered to education and phi- Dugald.
losophy. The salary attached to the office was L.300 per 'wv—~
annum. In the summer of this year, he accompanied Lord
Lauderdale on his mission to Paris, which he had previ¬
ously visited before and at the commencement of the Revo¬
lution, and where he had acquired a large circle of friends,
distinguished in philosophy, literature, and politics, among
whom may be mentioned the Abbe Morellet, the Baron de
Gerando, &c. Mr Stewart’s health, which had been delicate
for some years, received a severe blow from the death of his
second son, George, in 1809. He was unable to lecture dur-
ing a great part of session 1809-10. Dr Thomas Brown, at
his request, acted as his substitute. Mr Stewart finally with¬
drew from active professorial duty at the end of that ses¬
sion. Dr Brown was appointed conjoint-professor of Moral
Philosophy, Mr Stewart’s name still remaining in the com¬
mission. Shortly after the death of Dr Brown, in 1820,
Mr Stewart formally resigned the professorship, which was
conferred upon Mr John Wilson. From the year 1809
until the close of his life, Mr Stewart lived in comparative
retirement at Kinneil House, Linlithgowshire, which was
kindly placed at his disposal by his friend the Duke of Ha¬
milton. His retirement was almost exclusively devoted to
maturing and arranging the philosophical labours of his
previous life ; his reflective activity being interrupted only
by fiiendly intercourse, and the calls of those strangers
whom the lustre of his name led to pav a passing visit at
Kinneil. From Kinneil were dated, in 1810, the Philoso¬
phical Essays ; in 1813 (but only published in 1814), the
second volume of the Elements ; 'in 1815, the first, and, in
1821, the second part of the Dissertation ; in 1826 (but
only published in 1827), the third volume of the Elements;
and, in 1828, a few weeks before his death, the Philosophy
of the Active and Moral Powers. The last mentioned
work, with the relative part of the Outlines, embody the
results of his ethical speculations. His Lectures on Poli¬
tical Economy were first published in his Collected Works,
edited by the late Sir W. Hamilton. In January 1822, Mr
Stewart was struck with paralysis. “ The malady,” says
his son, “ which broke his health and constitution for the
rest of his existence, happily impaired neither any of the
faculties of his mind nor the characteristic vigour of his
understanding. As soon as his health was sufficiently re¬
established, he continued to pursue his studies with his
wonted assiduity; exhibiting, among some of the heaviest
infirmities incident to age, an admirable example of the
serene sunset of a well-spent life of classical elegance and
refinement, so beautifully imagined by Cicero: ‘ Quiete,
et pure, et eleganter actseaetatis, placida ac lenis senectus.’”
Mr Stewart died in Edinburgh on the 11th June 1828,
after a brief illness, and fresh shock of paralysis. His re¬
mains were interred in the family vault on the west side of
the churchyard of Canongate, not far from the grave of
Adam Smith.
Among Scottish philosophers Mr Stewart stands pro¬
minently out as a psychological observer. On questions
properly metaphysical he has left little which can be re¬
garded as essentially his own. The field within which he
chiefly laboured was that of the phenomena of the mind,
intellectual, moral, and aesthetical, as these appear under
the modifications imposed on them by the general cir¬
cumstances of human life, — education and society. In
careful, delicate, and original observation, within this
sphere, he has seldom been equalled ; and though led
into diffuse' composition both by the character of his mind
and the habits of the academical teacher, there are few
writers in the English language whose beauties of style,
and living sympathy with what is best in human life and
in its aspirations, are more fitted to refine the taste and
quicken the moral sensibilities. (jt v j
4 T
STEWART.
698
Stewart, Stewart, Matthew, an eminent mathematician, and father
Matthew. 0f Dus^ald Stewart, the eminent Scottish philosopher, noticed
above, was born in 1717 at Rothesay in the Isle of Bute, of
which parish his father was minister. Being intended for the
church, he passed through the usual course of a grammar-
school education, and was in 1734 received as a student
into the University of Glasgow. There he had for his pre¬
ceptors in moral science and mathematics the celebrated
professors Hutcheson and Simson, by the latter of whom he
was instructed in what may be called the arcana of the
ancient geometry.
His views making it necessary for him to remove to Edin¬
burgh, he was introduced by Dr Simson to Maclaurin, and
he attended his lectures with such advantage as might be
expected from eminent abilities, directed by the judgment
of him who made the geometry of Newton intelligible to
ordinary capacities. From his intimacy with Simson he
had, however, acquired such a predilection for the ancient
geometry, as the modern analysis, however powerfully re¬
commended, could not lessen ; and he kept up a regular
correspondence with his old master, giving him an account
of his progress and his discoveries in geometry, and receiv¬
ing in return many curious communications respecting the
Loci Plani, and the porisms of Euclid.
While the second invention of porisms, to which more
genius was perhaps required than to the first discovery of
them, employed Dr Simson, his pupil pursued the same sub¬
ject in a different and new direction. In doing so, he was
led to the discovery of those curious and interesting pro¬
positions, which were published under the title of General
Theorems in 1746. They were given without the demon¬
strations, but did not fail to place their discoverer at once
among the geometers of the first rank. They are for the
most part porisms, though Stewart, careful not to anticipate
the discoveries of his friend, gave them no other name than
that of theorems.
Before this period he had entered the church, and through
the patronage of the Duke of Argyle and the Earl of Bute,
he obtained the living of Roseneath, a retired country parish
in the west of Scotland ; but in 1747 he was elected to the
mathematical chair in the University of Edinburgh, which
had become vacant the year before by the death of Maclaurin.
The duties of this office gave a turn somewhat different to
his pursuits, and led him to think of the most simple and
elegant means of explaining those difficult propositions
which were hitherto only accessible to men deeply versed
in the modern analysis. In doing this, he was pursuing the
object which of all others he most ardently wished to attain,
namely, the application of geometry to such problems as
the algebraic calculus alone had been thought able to resolve.
His solution of Kepler’s problem was the first specimen of
this kind which he gave to the world; and it was impossible
to have produced one more to the credit of the method
which he followed, or of the abilities with which he applied
it. On this problem the utmost resources of the integral
calculus had been employed. But though many excellent
solutions had been given, there was none of them at once
direct in its method and simple in its principles. Stewart
was so happy as to attain both these objects ; and his solution
appeared in the second volume of the Essays of the Philoso¬
phical Society of Edinburgh for the year 1756. In the first
volume of the same collection there are some other pro¬
positions of Stewart’s, which are an extension of a curious
theorem in the fourth book of Pappus. They have a rela¬
tion to the subject of porisms, and one of them forms the
ninety-first of Dr Simson’s restorations. They are besides
very beautiful propositions, and are demonstrated with all
the elegance and simplicity of the ancient analysis.
The prosecution of the plan which he had formed of in¬
troducing into the higher parts of mixed mathematics the
strict and simple form of ancient demonstration, produced
the Tracts, Physical and Mathematical, which were pub- Stewart,
lished in 1761, and the Essay on the Sun's Distance, which Matthew,
was published in 1763. In this last work it is acknowledged
that he employed geometry on a task which geometry can¬
not perform ; but while it is granted that this determina¬
tion of the sun’s distance is by no means free from error,
we may venture to affirm that it contains a great deal which
will always interest geometers, and will always be admired
by them.. Few errors in science are redeemed by the dis¬
play of so much ingenuity, and what is more singular, of so
much sound reasoning. The investigation is everywhere
elegant, and will probably be long regarded as a specimen
of the most arduous inquiry which has been attempted by
mere geometry. The Surfs Distance was the last work
which Dr Stewart published; and though he lived to see
several animadversions on it made public, he declined
entering into any controversy. His disposition was far from
polemical ; and he knew the value of that quiet which a
literary man should rarely suffer his antagonists to interrupt.
He used to say, that the decision of the point in question
was now before the public; that if his investigation was
right it w-ould never be overturned, and that if it was waong
it ought not to be defended. A few months before he pub¬
lished the essay just mentioned, he gave to the world another
work, entitled Propositiones Geometricce more Veterum de¬
monstrates. This title, it is said, was given to it by Dr
Simson, who rejoiced in the publication of a work so well
calculated to promote the study of the ancient geometry.
It consists of a series of geometrical theorems, for the most
part new; investigated first by an analysis, and afterwards
synthetically demonstrated by the inversion of the same
analysis. Dr Stewart’s constant use of the geometrical
analysis had put him in possession of many valuable pro¬
positions which did not enter into the plan of any of the
works that have been enumerated. Of these not a few have
found a place in the writings of Dr Simson, where they will
for ever remain to mark the friendship of these two mathe¬
maticians, and to evince the esteem which Simson enter¬
tained for the abilities of his pupil.
Soon after the publication of the Surfs Distance, Dr
Stewart’s health began to decline, and the duties of his
office became burdensome to him. In the year 1772, he
retired to a small demesndVhich he possessed in Ayrshire,
where he afterwards spent the greater part of his life, and
never resumed his labours in the university. But though
mathematics had now ceased to be his business, they con¬
tinued to be his amusement till a very few years before his
death, which happened on the 23d of January 1785, at the
age of sixty-eight.
The habits of study, in a man of original genius, are ob¬
jects of curiosity, and deserve to be remembered. Con¬
cerning those of Dr Stewart, his writings have made it ne¬
cessary to remark, that from his youth he had been accus¬
tomed to the most intense and continued application. In
consequence of this application, added to the natural vigour
of his mind, he retained the memory of his discoveries in a
manner that will hardly be believed. He rarely wrote
down any of his investigations till it became necessary to
do so for the purpose of publication. When he discovered
any proposition, he would put down the enunciation with
great accuracy, and on the same piece of paper would con¬
struct very neatly the figure to which it referred. To these
he trusted for recalling to his mind at any future period the
demonstration or the analysis, however complicated it might
be. Experience had taught him that he might place this
confidence in himself without any danger of disappointment;
and for this singular power he was probably more indebted
to the activity of his invention than the mere tenaciousness
of his memory. Though he was extremely studious, he
read few books, and verified the observations of M. d’Alem¬
bert, that of all men of letters, mathematicians read least of
S T E
Stewarton the vyritings of one another. His own investigations
, II occupied him sufficiently ; and indeed the world would have
Stieglltz- had reason to regret the misapplication of his talents had
he employed in the mere acquisition of knowledge that
time which he could dedicate to works of invention.
SIEWARTON, a town of Scotland, Ayrshire, on the
right bank of the Annock, 6 miles N. by W. of Kilmar¬
nock, and 18 S.S.W^. of Glasgow. It is generally well
built, consisting of one main street about a mile long, with
several smaller streets. There is a town-hall, a jail, places
of worship belonging to the Established Church, the Free
Church, and the United Presbyterians, and schools with
libraries connected with each of the churches. Extensive
and flourishing manufactures are carried on here, especially
of Highland bonnets, carpets, linen, damask, and spindles
for cotton and worsted. There are also mills for carding
and spinning wooland considerable quantities of steel
clock-work are made and exported from Stewarton. Pop.
of the town, 3164.
S I EYER, or Steyr, a town of the Austrian empire,
Upper Austria, at the confluence of the Steyer and the
Enns, 19 miles S.E. of Linz. It stands between the two
rivers, and is connected by bridges with the suburbs Ennsr
dorf and Steyerdorf on either side. On a hill above the
town stands the castle, belonging to Prince Lamberg, and
on another hill near the suburb Steyerdorf is a Jesuits’ col¬
lege, now suppressed. In the cathedral, which was built
in 1443 on the model of St Stephen’s in Vienna, there are
some beautiful specimens of painted glass, and a fine old
bronze font. Steyer is celebrated for its manufactures,
especially of hardware; which are so extensive as to have
procured for the town the name of the Austrian Sheffield.
There are also paper-mills, cotton-factories, manufactories
of woollen, cloth, &c. A considerable trade is carried on
in the exportation of these articles. Steyer was the birth¬
place of the satiric poet Blumaner. It was at one time the
capital of Styria. Pop. 10,414.
SIICCAPO (Ital.), a rude musical instrument, formed
of a number of sticks of hard wood of different lengths,
generally attached to each other by strings at the ends,
but so as to hang separate from one another when sus¬
pended by the top. It is played upon by striking the
sticks wdth rods of cane or whalebone tipped with ivory
balls. Mersenne, in his Harmonia Universalis, calls this
instrument ligneum psalterium.
S1IEGLI1Z, Christian Ludwig, an eminent archi¬
tectural writer of Germany, was born at Leipzig on the
12th of December 175,6. In his youth he had his mind
familiarized with pictures, cabinets of medals and min¬
erals, in his father’s collection, which was the means of form¬
ing the lad’s taste for those ultimate walks which he found
so congenial. When pursuing his studies at the univer¬
sity he directed his attention mainly to jurisprudence. He
likewise wrote poems, tales, and romances. In 1784 he
took the degree of Doctor of Laws, and in 1786 appeared
his first architectural work entitled Versuch uber die Bau-
kunst. In 1792, the same year in which he was made a
member of the council of Leipzig, he brought out his Ges-
chichte der Baukunst der Allen, and shortly after ap¬
peared his Encyelopadie der burgerl. Baukunst, in 5 vols.,
1792-98. Passing over his specimens of modern archi¬
tecture as feeble and generally insipid, we come to a really
excellent work published in 1820, called Altdeutsche
Baukunst, which contributed in a large degree to the dif¬
fusion of that taste for mediaeval art which is so general in
Germany at the present day. His Geschichte der Bau¬
kunst appeared in 1827. After having contributed various
articles to different journals and to Ersch and Gruber’s
Bncyclopddie, and having produced other works of more
or less merit, Stieglitz died in his native town on the 17th
of July 1836.
s T I 699
STIFEL. See Algebra. gtifel
STIGLIANO, a town of Naples, in the province of ||
Baslicata, 29 miles S.W. of Matera. It contains several Stilling,
churches and convents, and has some trade in cattle, wine,
and oik Pop. 4200.
STIGLMAYER, Johann Baptist, an eminent metal-
founder of Munich, was the son of a poor blacksmith, and was
born at Furstenfeldbriick, near Munich, on the 18th Oc¬
tober 1791. The boy originally acquired the art of draw¬
ing by copying some illustrative wood-cuts of an old con¬
vent in possession of his father. Having been placed with
a goldsmith of Munich, he by his industry and good con¬
duct recommended himself to the director of the Bavarian
mint, who procured him admission into the academy in 1810.
This was the means of introducing him to the notice of the
king, who in 1819 sent him to Italy to complete his studies.
While in Rome Stiglmayer’s attention was drawn to the
art of metal-founding by Ludwig, then crown-prince of
Bavaria. After spending a year or two in the study of
metal castings he returned to Munich in 1822, and set to
work in 1826 at the royal bronze-foundry, and turned out
more extensive castings than any other man of modern
times. He executed numerous monuments of his own
planning, but generally he preferred following the designs
of Schwanthaler, Thorwaldsen, and Rauch. He died on
the 2d of March 1844, the day on which his nephew,
assistant and successor, Ferdinand Miller, cast the colossal
statue of Goethe, designed by Schwanthaler, for the citv
of Frankfort. 3
SI ILL, John, said to be the author of Gammer Gur-
ton’s Needle, was a native of Grantham in Lincolnshire,
and was born in 1543. He became a student of Christ’s
College, Cambridge, where he duly graduated and took
orders. He was appointed in 1570 Lady Margaret’s pro¬
fessor in his university, subsequently held livings in Suffolk
and Yorkshire, and was master successively of St John’s
College and of Trinity College. Still was elevated to the
bishopric of Bath and Wells in 1592, and after enjoying
considerable fame as a preacher and disputant, he diec£
leaving a large fortune from lead-mines discovered in the
Mendip Hills.
To Bishop Still is ascribed the authorship, on somewhat
slight grounds, of the earliest comedy but one in the Eng¬
lish language. This is Gammer GurtorHs Needle, which
bears on the title-page, “ Made by Mr S., Master of Arts,”
which was first published in 1575. Perhaps the introduc¬
tion to the second act of that coarse play, which consists of
the oldest drinking-song in the English language, has made
the jolly bishop more widely known than his loudest dis¬
putations would ever have rendered him. This exquisite
old song, commencing,
“ I cannot eat but little meat
My stomach is not good,”
has been found, on more recent research, to belong to an
earlier date than the era of Bishop Still. (See Dyce’s Life
of Skelton, vol, i., pp. 7-9.)
STILLING, Johann Heinrich Jung commonly called,
a famous German Pietist, was the son of a poor charcoal-
burner, and was born at Griind in Westphalia in 1740. He
originally worked at his father’s occupation, but afterwards
selected the trade of a tailor. He soon afterwards relin¬
quished this business in favour of a; teacher’s situation. He
alternated between the ferula an J the needle for some time,
until some rich persons, attracted by his simplicity and his
modest devoutness, made him tutor to their children.
Having saved a little money, he now went to the university
of Strasburg, where he studied medicine, and subsequently
became a physician at Elberfeld. Jung became famous as
an oculist, and is said by the poet Matthisson to have
restored upwards of 2000 poor blind people to their sight.
He was as liberal as he was skilful, and hundreds of the
700 S T I
Stilling- German poor knew the hand of the generous philanthropist
fleet> who had heard nothing of his skill as a physician. In 1778
Edward j)e wag c]10sen profess0r at Lantern, in 1787 at Marburg,
Stilling- and in 1803 at Heidelberg. He died at Carlsruhe in 1817.
fleet. When a student at Strasburg, Stilling had accidentally
Benjamin, taken the attention of Goethe by his simplicity, his earnest-
ness, and the humble devoutness with which he entered
into everything which he undertook. Goethe remained
his warm friend throughout life, and has sketched his char¬
acter with much fondness in various passages of his Dich-
tung und Wahrheit, books ix. and x. (See also Lewes’s
Life of Goethe, vol. i., p. 105.) Stilling was a voluminous
writer. The most popular of his works are his autobio¬
graphy {Lebensgeschichte) and his Tkeorie der Geister-
kunde, which have both been rendered into English by
Jackson. But he has attained his greatest fame as a mys-
. tical writer and thinker. His works have been published
by Grollman at Leipzig, 13 vols., 1835.
STILLINGFLEET, Edward, Bishop of Worcester,
and “ renowned,” according to Lord Macaulay, “ as a con¬
summate master of all the weapons of controversy,” was born
at Cranborne, in Dorsetshire, in 1635. He was educated
at St John’s College, Cambridge ; and having received holy
orders, was, in 1657, presented to the rectory of Sutton
in Nottinghamshire. In 1659 appeared his first work,
entitled, Irenicum, or the Divine Bight of particular Forms
of Church Government Examined. By publishing his Ori-
gines Sacrce, one of the ablest defences of revealed religion
that has ever been written, he soon acquired such reputa¬
tion, that he was appointed preacher of the Rolls Chapel;
and in January 1665 was presented to the rectory of St
Andrews, Holborn. He was afterwards chosen lecturer
at the Temple, and appointed chaplain in ordinary to King
Charles II. In 1668 he took the degree of D.D. ; and
was soon after engaged in a dispute with those of the
Romish religion, by publishing his discourse concerning the
idolatry and fanaticism of the Church of Rome, which
discourse he afterwards defended against several antagonists.
In 1680 he preached at Guildhall Chapel a sermon on Phil,
iii. 26, which he published under the title of The Mischief
of Separation; and this being immediately attacked by
several writers, he, in 1683, published his Unreasonable¬
ness of Separation. In 1685 appeared his Origines Bri-
tannicce, or the Antiquities of the British Churches, in
folio. During the reign of King James IL, he wrote
several tracts against popery, and was prolocutor of the
convocation, as he had likewise been under Charles II.
After the Revolution he was advanced to the bishopric of
Worcester, and was engaged in a dispute with the Socinians,
and also with Mr Locke; in which last contest he is gene¬
rally thought to have been unsuccessful. He died at
Westminster in 1699, and was interred in the cathedral of
Worcester, where a monument was erected to his memory
by his son, bearing a highly eulogistic Latin epitaph from
the pen of Bentley, who had been his chaplain. Dr Stilling-
fleet wrote other works besides those here mentioned,
which, with the above, have been reprinted in six volumes,
folio, 1710.
Stillingfleet, Benjamin, an ingenious naturalist, born
in 1702, was the grandson of Dr Stillingfleet, Bishop of Wor¬
cester. His father, Edward Stillingfleet, M.D., was fellow
of St John’s College, Cambridge, and Gresham professor
of physic ; but marrying in 1692, he lost his lucrative offices
and his father’s favour; a misfortune that affected both
himself and his posterity. Benjamin, his only son, was
educated at Norwich school, which he left in 1720, with the
character of an excellent scholar. He went to Trinity
College, Cambridge, at the request of Dr Bentley, the
master, who had been private tutor to his father, domestic
chaplain to his grandfather, and much indebted to his family.
Here he was a candidate for a fellowship, but was rejected,
S T I
as he believed, by Bentley’s influence. Perhaps, how- Stilpo
ever, this seeming ingratitude was not of any real dis- II
service to Stillingfleet. By being thrown into the world, f5tirling*
he formed many honourable and valuable connections. He
dedicated some translations of Linnaeus to the late Lord
Lyttelton, partly, he says, from motives of private respect
and honour. Lord Barrington gave him, in a very polite
manner, the place of master of the barracks at Kensington ;
a favour to which Stillingfleet, in the dedication of his
Calendar of Flora to that nobleman, alludes with the
warmest gratitude. His Calendar of Flora was formed at
Stratton in Norfolk in the year 1755, at the seat of his
friend Marsham, who had made several observations of
that kind, and had communicated to the public his curious
observations on the growth of trees. But it was to Wynd-
ham of Felbrig in Norfolk that he appears to have had the
greatest obligation ; he travelled abroad with him, spent
much of his time at his house, and was appointed one of his
executors (Mr Garrick.being another), with a considerable
addition to an annuity which that gentleman had settled
upon him in his lifetime.
Stillingfleet’s genius seems, if we may judge from his
wmrks, to have led him principally to the study of natural
history. In his walk of learning he mentions as his friends,
Dr Watson, Dr Solander, Mr Hudson, Mr Price of Foxley,
and some others ; to whom may be added the ingenious
Mr Pennant.
Stillingfleet published a volume of Miscellaneous Tracts
in 1759. They are chiefly translations of some essays in
the Amcenitates Academicce, published by Linnaeus, inter¬
spersed with some observations and additions of his own.
His Essay on Conversation, a poem, wras published in the
first volume of Dodsley’s Collection. His London residence
was in lodgings in Piccadilly, where he died in 1771, at the
age of sixty-nine, leaving several valuable papers behind
him. Coxe has written a notice of his life and works, 1811.
STILPO, a celebrated philosopher of Megara, who
flourished during the second century b.c. In his youth he
had been addicted to licentious pleasures, from which he reli¬
giously refrained from the moment when he ranked himself
among philosophers. When Ptolemy Soter, at the taking
of Megara, offered him a large sum of money, and requested
that he would accompany him into Egypt, he accepted but a
small part of the offer, and retired to the Island of JEgina,
whence, on Ptolemy’s departure, he returned to Megara.
That city being again taken by Demetrius the son of
Antigonus, and the philosopher required to give an account
of any effects which he had lost during the hurry of the
plunder, he replied that he had lost nothing; for no one
could take from him his learning and eloquence. So great
was the lame of Stilpo, that the most eminent philosophers
of Athens took pleasure in attending upon his discourses.
His peculiar doctrines were, that species or universals have
no real existence, and that one thing cannot be predicated of
another. With respect to the former of these opinions, he
seems to have taught the same doctrine as the Nominalists
of more modern times. In ethics he seems to have been a
Stoic, and in religion he had a public and a private doctrine,
the former for the multitude, and the latter for his friends.
He admitted the existence of a Supreme Divinity, but hail
no reverence for the Grecian superstitions. (See Diog.
Laert., ii., c. 12.)
STIRLING, one of the most ancient towns in Scotland
and capital of the county of the same name, is built on the
slope and around the base of a ridge of rock situated in the
carse or plain watered by the river Forth; Long. 5° 45'west,
Lat. 56° 6' north. It is chiefly interesting for its antiquities,
its historical associations, and its singularly beautiful, pic¬
turesque, and central situation. The town is, from the
nature of the ground, very irregular, and the houses in one
part, or what may be called the old town, are antiquated and.
STIRLING.
The Castle.
Monu¬
ments.
Stirling, destitute of all architectural beauty, with narrow and con¬
fined streets; while in the other, or new town, quite the
reverse is the case. Towards the south and south-west,
extensive suburbs are springing up containing many large
and handsome villas. Numbers of new streets and terraces
have been projected, and some promise to be speedily com¬
pleted. Great improvements have and still are taking place,
and the streets are now well paved and kept in good order.
The old rickety and unsightly houses are being demolished
one by one, and new and substantial ones built in their
stead. A plentiful supply of pure water was a few years
ago led in from the Touch Hills, about 4 miles distant, by
means of cast-metal pipes.
The Castle, the most prominent place of interest in Stir¬
ling, is built on the western extremity of the ridge on which
the town is situated, and is of much greater antiquity than
the town itself. It is defended on three sides by the preci¬
pitous rocks on which it is built, and on the fourth, or town
side, by a deep broad fosse, crossed by a drawbridge, and
two strong walls, the approach being commanded by flank¬
ing batteries. In the centre of the castle stands the old
Parliament-House, now used as barracks; on the left is
the palace of James V., a magnificent structure, the hall of
which is now also converted into barracks, but still known
as the “ King s room,” the remainder being used as officers’
rooms, canteen, sutlery, &c. The building to the west of
the palace is of much older date, and contains the well-
known “ Douglas room,” (so called from James II. having
killed William earl of Douglas in it). This room, along
with other portions of the building, was burned down in 1857,
but has been rebuilt in its original form in every respect,
except that the ornaments are iron instead of wood, in case
of further accidents. Adjoining this building is the Chapel-
Royal of James VI., now used as an armoury.
Near the castle is the Lady’s Hill and Valley, where in
olden time the joists and tournaments were held. They
have now, in the course of improvement, been inclosed in
the new cemetery, but have not lost their distinctive features.
In this cemetery is a most beautiful and chaste group of
statuary, erected by William Drummond of Rockdale
Lodge to the memory of the martyred Margaret Wilson
and her sister Agnes. At the head of King Street is a
monument, by Mr Handyside Ritchie of Edinburgh, to
Wallace, and presented to the town by Mr Drummond.
In front of the First U.P. Church is a beautiful Corinthian
monument to Ebenezer Erskine, the founder of the Seces¬
sion body in Scotland, and the first minister of that, congre¬
gation. .
The public buildings are the East and West Churches,
both in the Gothic style (the upper windows, however, of
the latter have Saxon arches), with a modern erection be¬
tween, which adds nothing to their beauty, and which it is
contemplated to remove. The West Church was erected
in 1494 by James IV.; the East at a later period by Cardinal
Beaton. Close beside these churches is a ruin called “Mar’s
Work.” It was a mansion-house commenced by the Earl of
Mar out of the stones of Cambuskenneth Abbey, but was
never completed. Near it is the ancient palace of the
Argyle family, and now converted into a military hospital
under the name of “ Argyle-House.” In Broad Street
stands the ancient town-house, with its spire and old jail
attached. In the town-house are still kept the pint jug, the
ancient standard for liquid measure in Scotland ; and in the
court-room are about a dozen fine ancient carvings on oak,
known as the Stirling heads which formerly adorned the
hall of the palace of James V., and are believed to repre¬
sent the king’s family and courtiers. The county sheriff-
court and also the justice of peace court are held here,
and the circuit court meets here twice every year. The new
jail is a strong handsome building, lately erected in room of
the old one, which was too small and insecure. It is one of
/01
Public
buildings
the finest buildings in Stirling. The Athenaeum is a good Stirling,
building in King Street, with a spire 120 feet high ; and in
it is a public reading-room and a library of about 7000
volumes. The North Church is decidedly the most elabo-
late building in town. The Free North Church and the
Second U.P. Church are both handsome buildings, and the
National Bank is also a fine building.
Io the south of the Castle was the Royal Gardens, of Parks,
which nothing now remains except the trace of the terraces
rising the one above the other, in the centre of which is an
octagonal mound called the “ King’s Knote.” To the south
of the gardens is the “ King’s Park,” where the kings of
Scotland used to keep their deer. It is now given over by
government to the town as a public park. The Gowlan
Hills to the north of the Castle was the place where, in
very early times, justice was administered, where at a later
peiiod executions took place, and where, later still, James V.
used to slide or u hurle” down its steep sides on a cow’s-
head, hence called “ Hurly Hawkie,” another name for the
same hill. Between this hill and the castle is a pass called
Ballengeich or “ windy-gowl,” from which James V. took the
cognomen of “ The gudeman of Ballengeich.” The public
walks about Stirling are unrivalled in Scotland. The oldest
and best of them runs along the top of the rock on which
the town is built, and is known as the Back Walk.
Stirling Bridge is the most noted structure of the kind in Stirling
Scotland for its antiquity and the historical events connected Bridge,
with it. It was till within about 30 years the only access
for wheeled carriages into the north of Scotland. Its age
is unknown, but it was in existence in 1571. It is of very
antique structure, being narrow, high in the centre, and is
composed of 4 arches. Formerly it had two gates, one at
each end, each gate being flanked by two small towers.
The gates are now removed, though the towers still remain.
This bridge, though once very strong, is now beginning to
show signs of decay, and large rents are appearing in it.
Stirling has, since the introduction of railways, become aManufac-
place of great importance. The Scottish Central Railway tures and
runs past it, and it is the terminus of other three lines: the commerce*
Stirling and Dunfermline, the Forth and Clyde, and the
Dunblane, Doune, and Callender, the two latter being single
lines. Though a place of no great commercial importance
in itself, it has, through its central situation, both in regard
to Scotland and the rich agricultural, mining, and manu¬
facturing districts around, become one of the most important
towns in Scotland. There are three considerable wool-mills
and one carpet and shawl manufactory connected with the
town ; also two extensive coach factories, a number of tim¬
ber-yards, and two tanneries. Drummond’s Agricultural
Museum holds a prominent place in the town as a seed and
implement warehouse, exporting to all parts of the globe.
Though the Forth flows past the town, shipping is neces¬
sarily very limited on account of the shallowness of the
water, it being confined to a few small sloops and an occa¬
sional vessel of bet ween one or two hundred tons. A line of
passengei-steamers runs between Stirling and Granton, but
the business has since the railway opened greatly fallen off.
There are two weekly newspapers, the Stirling Journal
and Stirling Observer. There are seven banks, all of them
doing a large business, and a very prosperous savings-bank.
There are in the town 3 Established churches, 2 PYee Religion
churches, 2 United Presbyterian, 1 Reformed Presbyterian, and educa
1 Episcopalian, 1 Congregational, 1 Baptist, 1 Methodist'tion*
and a Roman Catholic—in all, 13 places of worship. Con¬
nected with the religious element is the Stirling Tract En¬
terprise, instituted by Mr Peter Drummond in 1848, and
which alone increases the revenue of the Stirling Post Office
by upwards of L.2000 annually. In education the town
stands high. A new academy was built in 1854, having a
classical master, a master of modern languages, an EngHsh
master, a mathematical master, a drawing master, a gymna-
702
Stirling¬
shire.
Hospitals.
History.
Govern¬
ment.
Popula¬
tion, &c.
HiiSs.
S T I
sium, and between 300 or 400 pupils. There is also a
school, known as Allan’s School, for the education of the
poorer classes, besides several other private educational
establishments, all of which are well attended. There is a
Ragged School sustained by public liberality, which contains
between 60 and 70 outcast children.
Among the charitable endowments are Spittal’s Hospi¬
tal, with an income of nearly L.1000 derived from land,
which is expended on the aged poor belonging to the seven
incorporated trades ; and Cowan’s Hospital, which has an
income of about L.4000, also derived from land, and which
is expended on the decayed members of the Incorporation
of Guildry. The finest hall in the town is the Guild Hall,
belonging to the latter of these institutions, and was origin¬
ally built for the accommodation of twelve decayed guild
brethren ; but as no one would inhabit it, the funds accum¬
ulated till they now produce the above sum. The house
has now been turned into a hall for the meetings of guildry.
Allan’s and Cunningham’s mortifications have incomes of
L.600 and L.200 respectively, wholly devoted for the edu¬
cation of youth.
Stirling as a town, or rather a place of defence, is of
unknown antiquity. It is even believed that it was used
as a place of defence at a time when all the Low Country
was under water. It first emerges into history as one of
the four burghs forming what is now called the Convention
of Royal Burghs. Its history since then has been so inti¬
mately connected with the history of Scotland, that it is
unnecessary to give a sketch of it here.
The town is governed by a provost, 4 magistrates, and
16 councillors, 21 in all, a third retiring every year.
The population is 12,837 ; inhabited houses, 1270 ;
annual value of real property in 1859-60, L.36,791 (ex¬
clusive of railways) ; parliamentary constituency, 592 ;
municipal constituency, 475. Stirling is united with the
burghs of Dunfermline, Culross, Queensferry, and Inver-
keithing in returning a member to Parliament.
STIRLINGSHIRE, one of the most beautiful counties
in Scotland, situated on the isthmus between the Firths of
Forth and Clyde, is bounded on the north by the counties
of Perth and Clackmannan, east by the Firth of Forth and
Linlithgowshire, south by Lanarkshire and Dumbartonshire,
and west by Dumbartonshire. Its greatest length from Lin¬
lithgow Bridge to Loch Lomond is 45 miles, and its greatest
breadth 18 miles, though in many places it is not above 1 to
3 or 4 miles broad. Its area is 462 square miles, or 295,875
acres, divided into 21 entire parishes, and portions of 4
others which partly belong to other counties. It lies on both
sides of the boundary line between the Highlands and the
Lowlands, but in its general features is mountainous, al¬
though there are two extensive carses or plains in it, called
the carses of Stirling and Falkirk. About two-thirds of
Stirlingshire is unfit for cultivation, owing to its hilly
nature, but affords excellent pasturage for sheep. 1 he re¬
mainder is among the most fertile portions of Scotland.
The principal chain of hills is the Lennox Hills, other¬
wise called the Campsie Fells, and Fintry Hills ; and, in
the neighbourhood of Stirling, the Touch Hills. This
range runs across the county from Dumbartonshire to
nearly Stirling, but never attains a higher elevation than
about 1500 feet. Ben Lomond on the north-west, on the
banks of Loch Lomond, is 3191 feet high, and Ben Cleuch,
in the parish of Alva, 2400 feet high. To the north and
east of the Lennox Hills the country is low, and much of
the land along the Forth is only a few feet above the level
of the river. Towards the western and southern extremi¬
ties the surface is more varied, presenting tracts of heath,
moss, and green pastures, intermixed with cultivated land,
the latter confined for the most part to the banks of the
streams.
The streams of Stirlingshire are the Forth, Avon,
S T I
Allander, Kelvin, Endrick, Carron, Allan, Devon, and Stirling.
Bannock. Of these the principal is the Forth, which rises shire-
from a spring on the northern side and near the summit of
Ben Lomond, and pursues a course of 8 or 10 miles under Rivers,
the name of the Water of Duchray. It then passes into
Perthshire under the name of Avendhu, or Black River,
and soon after returns to the county, and thenceforward
obtains the name of the Forth. Pursuing its way through
what is called the Yale of the Forth in a slow and sluggish
manner, after winding round the base of Craigforth, it re¬
ceives the clear waters of the Teith, which forms a fine
contrast to the dark muddy waters of the Forth. Further
on it is joined by the Allan, a brawling, brattling stream,
which is only in the county a mile or two of its course, and
shortly afterwards passes Stirling, forming from that place
to Alloa what is known as the Links of the Forth, so called
from the extraordinary number of windings it makes.
These links are one of the finest and most picturesque sails
in Scotland. At one time the Castle of Stirling appears
right in front, and in a few minutes it is away behind, then
at one side, then at the other, and in fact the traveller,
until he becomes familiar with it, is quite bewildered.
After passing Alloa, the river becomes an estuary, and is
known as the Firth of Forth. The Carron, the next in
importance, rises in the interior, pursues an easterly course,
and joins the Firth of Forth at Grangemouth. It is navi¬
gable for vessels of 200 tons up to the village of Carron-
shore, the shipping place of the Carron Company, about 2
miles above its confluence with the Forth. The Avon
makes two separate stretches on the boundary. The
Endrick is principally a county stream, and pursues a very
sweet and romantic course in the western district. The
Allander and Devon are only for a very short distance
within the county. The Bannock, famous for its battle of
the same name, which gave liberty to Scotland, is wholly
a county stream, and joins the Forth a little below Stirling.
The lakes of Stirlingshire, with the exception of Loch Lakea.
Lomond, are neither large nor of much importance. The
one-half, and the most picturesque half of this, the queen
of Scottish lakes, belongs to the county, and contributes
to it the islands Inchcaillioch, Inchfad, Inchcruin, and
several others of lesser importance. Loch Coulter, in the
parish of St Ninians; Loch Elrigg, Black Loch, and
Little Black Loch, in Slamannan, are all small. Loch
Katrine touches the county for a distance of two miles.
Stirlingshire is one of the richest counties in Scotland Geology,
for minerals. The north-west boundary of the great coal¬
field which extends from Kintyre to Fifeshire, runs along
the base of the Lennox Hills, and is extensively worked
at Plean, Bannockburn, Greenyards, Denny, Carron,
Slamannan, and, in lact, the whole of the south-east corner
of the county, but is nowhere found in the north and west.
Ironstone is found in almost inexhaustible quantities, a
fact which influenced Dr Roebuck, after he had examined
the whole of Scotland, to fix on the neighbourhood of
Falkirk as the site for the now magnificent Carron Iron¬
works. The richest variety is found at Kilsyth, and
owing to its occurring in rounded masses in the form of a
flat-topped loaf, varying in size from a quarter of an inch
to a foot in diameter, is called fall ironstone. The hill of
Craigforth, near Stirling, is almost one mass of pure iron¬
stone. Limestone, in many instances, accompanies the coal
in two strata, the one above and the other below the coal,
the former being always the best quality. Copper is
found, but not in sufficient quantities to be workable, al¬
though mines were opened at Kilsyth and Logie, which
however were soon abandoned. Veins of silver were dis¬
covered nearly 100 years ago at Logie and Alva, and were
worked for some time, but were soon given up. Cobalt,
arsenic, and lead are also found in very small quantities.
Sandstone abounds in the south and east districts, and is
STIRLINGSHIRE.
703
Stirling- extensively quarried. Trap-rocks, particularly basalt, are
shire, found north-west of the coals, and rise up in nodulated
hills through various parts of the coal-fields. The rock
on which the town and castle of Stirling are built, and the
neighbouring well-known hill, the Abbey Craig, which,
though not in Stirlingshire, touches it, are examples of this
volcanic action. Precipitous columnar cliffs and extensive
ranges of basaltic colonnade exist in solitary protrusions,
as in the broad mass of the Lennox Hills. The rocks
of the north or Highland district are principally schistose.
One remarkable feature traceable in all the hills lying in
or near the carse of Stirling is, that the rocks on the west
and south-west sides are bare and precipitous, while the
eastern and northern sides have a gentle slope, and are
covered with herbage. The reason assigned is, that at one
time the waves of the Atlantic Ocean rolled through the
Low Country into the German Ocean, and washed the soil
from the exposed sides of these rocks and deposited it on
the protected sides.
Climate. The climate of the eastern division of the county is
milder than that of the west, partly owing to the inferior
elevation, and partly because of the superior shelter afforded
it by the trees and hedges, but principally because in sum¬
mer the German Ocean is 5° warmer than the Atlantic.
The west, however, escapes those fogs which infest the
east during the prevalence of the east winds.
Soil. Stirlingshire has every variety of soil common to Scot¬
land, and may be classified into carse, dryfield, hill, moor,
and moss. The carse extends along the line of the Forth,
from half-a-mile to 5 miles in width, making altogether 56
square miles, or nearly 36,000 imperial acres of the very
best grain-producing land in the kingdom. It consists of
the finest argillaceous earth, perfectly free of stones, and
originally of a bluish colour, and of a soapy or mucila¬
ginous consistency; but after cultivation becomes of a
hazel colour, and of a loamy friability. It is of the depth
of between 20 and 30 feet, and is seldom more than 25
feet above the level of the sea. It contains beds of shells,
moss, and clay marl. In it, in a stratum of moss, have
been found at various times the entire skeletons of two
whales and the part of another, deers’-horns, bones, &c.,
some of which had evidently been used as instruments of
the chase. One of the skeletons is now in the Zoological
Gardens of Edinburgh. The dryfield is a darker and
more sandy earth, in some places of some depth, and in
others only a few feet. The hilly and moorish lands are of
considerable extent and unfit for cultivation, both from
elevation and from want of a regular sufficient depth of
soil. The moss-lands were at one time of some extent,
but they were let out in small portions at little or no rent
to cottars, who got the produce of the ground for the clear¬
ing away of the moss, and were generally known by the
name of moss lairds. These moss-lairds are fast dying
out, the grounds thus cleared being let out as regular
farms.
tun>lCUl" Agriculture1' is in a very high state; but owing to the
varieties of the land, it is various in its modes. The Carse
farmers produce a great quantity of wheat and beans, for
the growing of which their soil is peculiarly adapted, as it
is strong and heavy. The dryfield farmers, on the con¬
trary, on account of their land being lighter, and not so well
adapted for the growth of strong-strawed serials, never
thought of sowing either wheat or beans till the potato dis¬
ease made its appearance, when they introduced them as
fills-up, but are quite unable to obtain the heavy crops
Carse farmers do. On the other hand, the dryfield far¬
mers have the advantage over their Carse brethren in the
production of potatoes and turnips, which, before the dis¬
ease, were cultivated in immense quantities and with great
success. The other grains grown are oats and barley, and
mangel-wurzel is being introduced for the feeding of cattle.
Stirlingshire takes the lead of all Scotch counties for its Stirling-
agricultural improvements. The arable farms range in shire,
extent from 40 to 100 or 150 acres; while the hill-farms,
where sheep and cattle are kept, are sometimes 4000 acres.
Almost all the Highland district, or the mountains of
Buchanan and Drymen, the Lennox Hills, &c., are dis¬
posed as sheep-walks, and produce excellent pasturage.
Ihe cattle are mostly Highland and country cattle, and
the sheep blackfaced, a breed of the Cheviot’s called the
Linton breed, and Leicesters. Few horses are reared.
There are several agricultural societies for the promotion of
agriculture in the county, the principal of which is the
Stirling Central Union, a very extensive society, number¬
ing about 300 members. It has a cattle show in June
which is one of the finest in Scotland, both for quantity and
quality, and it has a seed-grain competition both in the spring
and autumn of the year. The Falkirk Trysts, the largest
cattle and sheep markets in the kingdom, are held on Sten-
house Muir, near Falkirk, on the second Tuesday and
Wednesday of August, September, and October, for cattle
and’ horses; and the previous Monday for sheep, in Sep¬
tember and October.
There is a good deal of the less valuable ground covered ^00^-
with oak coppice, which yields a regular income everylan<is-
21 years for bark. These coppices are in some cases divided
into 21 hags or portions, one of them being cut down every
year, leaving only a few reserves for standard timber.
These hags yield on an average 2^ tons of bark per acre,
which, selling at L.8 per ton, yields an income of L.20
per acre every 21 years, or 19s. a year, instead of from
a shilling or two up to ten, if they were used for any
other purpose. About 30,000 or 40,000 acres are thus
occupied.
The manufactures are carpets, tartans, plaidings, shawls, Mariufae-
and other woollen goods, which have obtained a world-wide tul’es-
celebrity, and which are chiefly made in Stirling, Bannock¬
burn, St Ninians, and the neighbouring villages. Blankets
and serges are manufactured at Alva. Large cotton-mills
occur at Fintry, Balfron, and Milngavie. Printfields exist
at Denny, Kincaid, Milngavie, Lennoxtown, and Strath-
blane. Several paper-mills are situated at Denny and
Bridge of Allan. There are several chemical works at
Stirling and Falkirk. Tanning is carried on extensively
in Stirling, St Ninians, and Falkirk. Distilleries are large
and extensive. Nail-making is a considerable trade in St
Ninians and the surrounding villages; but the grand staple
manufacture is that of iron goods, cast and malleable, at the
stupendous works of Carron, the largest iron-foundry in the
world. It is situated on the River Carron, about 3 miles
above Grangemouth, and was established by royal charter
in 1760, under the management of Gascoigne, Caddell, and
Company, and has passed through several managements,
and is now principally in the hands of the Messrs Dawson
and Stainton. The property is divided into 600 shares of
L.250 each. The ironworks cover an extent of 40 acres,
and contain four large furnaces for smelting the ore—three
by hot blast and one by cold blast, perhaps the only one
now in Scotland. These furnaces were at one time blown
by water-blast, but steam is now used instead; and we be¬
lieve that the first steam-engine of any size ever made is
still to be seen at these works. There are five cupolas
and about forty air-furnaces for smelting the pig-iron, also
two large forges for tilting scrap iron, for making axle-
blocks, &c. This company employ 1200 men at their
works, and about 1000 more in pits and mines at Carron-
hall, Quarrole, Kinnaird, and Netherwood, in the county,
besides large fields in other parts of the country. They
have now a world-wide connection, and have obtained their
position by the manufacture of ordnance for the various
European governments, but especially of the once cele¬
brated carronades, which were invented there. They have
704
Stjern-
stolpe
I!
Stobseus.
Roads and
railways.
Canals.
Govern¬
ment.
Popula¬
tion, &c.
S T .1
S T O
large warehouses in London, Liverpool, Glasgow, and
Leith; have five large and powerful steamers plying be¬
tween Grangemouth and London; seven trading sloops;
and about thirty lighters on the Forth and Clyde Canal,
which is in connection with the works by means of a rail¬
way. They have also railway connection with the Edin¬
burgh and Glasgow line. Owing to its magnitude, Carron
has Always such a supply of coal and iron as to be quite in¬
dependent of the fluctuation of these articles in price, and
of strikes. The Falkirk Ironworks may be considered an
offshoot of the Carron Works. It was established in 1825,
employs about 400 men, and covers 10 acres of ground,
but has no blast furnaces to manufacture its own iron.
There are other two foundries of lesser importance near
Camelon.
The Scottish Central Railway enters the county near
Bridge of Allan, and joins the Edinburgh and Glasgow at
Greenhill, passing in its route Bridge of Allan, Stirling,
Bannockburn, and Larbert. The Edinburgh and Glasgow
Railway traverses the county from Linlithgow Bridge to
Castlecary, and passes Polmont and Falkirk. The Forth
and Clyde Railway, starting from Stirling, runs along the
Yale of the Forth, and passes out of the county beyond
Kilmaronock. This railway, though by no means a paying
one, is eminently useful, as it opens up an extensive tract
of county hitherto almost inaccessible except by county
roads. The Stirling and Dunfermline Railway is only for
2 or 3 miles within the county. The Stirlingshire Mid¬
land Junction was made for the purpose of uniting the
Edinburgh and Glasgow at Polmont with the Scottish
Central at Larbert, thus shortening the way to Edinburgh.
The Denny Junction, a branch of the Scottish Central, runs
from Larbert to Denny. The Edinburgh and Glasgow are
making a branch line to Grangemouth. The great northern
highway runs through the county from a little to the north
of Stirling Bridge to Linlithgow Bridge, through Bannock¬
burn, Larbert, Camelon, Falkirk, &c., but is now little
used. The Glasgow Road runs through St Ninians and
Denny, and the Dumbarton Road through Kippen, Buck-
lyvie, &c.
The Forth and Clyde Canal, from Grangemouth to
Glasgow, traverses the county a great portion of its length,
and is joined near Lock 16 by the Union Canal from Edin¬
burgh, which is also in the county for a number of miles.
Stirlingshire is governed by a lord-lieutenant, a vice¬
lieutenant, and a court of lieutenancy, a sheriff, two sheriffs-
substitute, and two procurators-fiscal.
The principal towns in Stirlingshire are—Stirling, Fal¬
kirk, Denny, Grangemouth, Kilsyth, Campsie, and Balfron.
The village of Bridge of Allan has obtained great celebrity
within the last twenty years for the medical properties of
its mineral-waters, which are drunk in great quantities by
an immense number of visitors who frequent it. It is un¬
questionably the greatest watering-place in Scotland. The
population of the county, in 1851, was 86,237; the in¬
habited houses, 11,312; and the valuation for 1859-60,
L.276,060. The county returns a member to Parliament,
and has a constituency of 1670.
The religion of the county is principally Presbyterian,
and is represented by 37 parish and quoad sacra churches,
21 Free Churches, 24 United Presbyterian, 3 Independent,
3 Baptist, 2 Reformed Presbyterian, 5 Scottish Episco¬
palian, and 4 Roman Catholic. In education the county is
well supplied, there being parochial schools in every parish,
besides many others belonging to the various denomina¬
tions and to private individuals. (&• J*)
STJERNSTOLPE. See Scandinavian Literature.
SI OBiEUS, Joannes, whose compilations have been
found so highly valuable, is supposed to have been born at
Stobi, a city of Macedonia. Heeren has endeavoured to
render it probable that he must have lived between the
years 450 and 500. He does not appear to have been a Stockhn’m,
Christian. From about 500 writers, in verse as well as
prose, he extracted and digested an immense collection of
passages, which has most commonly been considered as
one work divided into four books, the two first being de¬
scribed as Eclogce Physicce et Ethicce, and the other two
as Sermones ; but, according to Heeren, they constitute
two distinct compilations. As many of the books quoted
by Stobaeus have scarcely left any other vestiges behind
them, his merit in preserving these numerous and varie¬
gated reliques of antiquity cannot well be too highly esti¬
mated. Of the third and fourth books, otherwise called
the Florilegium, the Greek text was published by Victor
Trincavellus, Venet., 1536, 4to. An edition, accompanied
with a Latin version, was published by Conrad Gesner,
Tiguri, 1543, fob It was reprinted at Basel in 1549, and at
Zurich in 1559. Of the Eclogarum Libri Duo, the Greek
text was first published, together with a Latin version by
Canter, Antverp, 1575, fob The editor made use of two
manuscripts belonging to Sambucus and Sirlet; and hence
a certain bibliographer has described this as Sirlet’s edition.
A valuable edition of the Eclogce was long afterwards
published by Heeren, Getting., 1792-4,2 tom., 8vo. The
Florilegium and the Eclogce had been published in the
same volume, under the title of Stobcei Sententice, ex The-
sauris Grcecorum Delectce, Lugduni, 1608, fob Some
copies have a new title, with the date of 1609. We must
not overlook the elegant labours of Grotius, Dicta Poeta-
rum quce apud Stobceum Exstant, Emendata, et Latino
Carmine Reddita, Paris, 1623, 4to. The editions have all
been nearly superseded by that of Gaisford, Oxon., 1822,
4 tom., 8vo. The text, which has been adjusted with great
industry and skill, is not accompanied with a Latin trans¬
lation.
STOCKHOLM, an important city in the north of
Europe, the capital of Sweden, occupying a fine position
on the strait that connects Lake Malar with the Baltic,
about 36 miles from the sea by water, 380 miles N.E. ot
Copenhagen, and 440 W.S.W. of St Petersburg, N. Lat.
59. 20; E. Lon. 18. 3. It has been called the Venice of
the north; and there is some reason for the appellation
from the similarity of its situation, partly on the mainland
and partly on several small islands. Though inferior in
general effect to that beautiful Italian city, Stockholm pre¬
sents from some points a very imposing aspect; and the
natural beauties of its environs far surpass those of Venice.
It consists of three parts ; the city proper, occupying three
islands, which are so united as to form to all appearance
but one ; the northern suburb, Norrmalm, and the southern
suburb, Sbdermalm, which stand on the mainland on either
side of the strait. The islands are known by the name of
Holms, those on which the city proper is built are Stock¬
holm (the Castle Island), or Staden (the City), which is
the largest of the three; Riddarholm (Knight’s Island), to
the west; and Helgeandsholm (Holy Ghost Island), to
the north. There are also several other islands, covered in
whole or in part with buildings ; such as Kungsholm (King’s
Island), to the west of the northern suburb ; Blasiiholm,
which has been converted into a peninsula; Skeppsholm,
(Ship Island), and Kastellholm (Castle island), all lying to
the east of the city proper. All of these subdivisions of
the city are connected with the mainland, and with one
another by numerous bridges, the finest of which is the
new bridge of granite, from the city proper to the northern
suburb. On the mainland to the north the ground rises
gradually as it recedes from the water, while to the south
the cliffs are more bold and abrupt, and many of the houses^
nestle amid overshadowing trees in the various ledges of
the rocks. Although the ground on which a great part of
Stockholm is built is hard and rocky, yet all the lower por¬
tions of the city are founded on piles. The streets, espe-
STOCKHOLM.
705
Stockholm, daily in the city proper, which is the oldest portion, are
very narrow and irregular ; though in the other parts of the
town and suburbs, more attention is paid to straightness
and uniformity, yet even there they are of no great width.
The houses in the city are in general built of stone; those
in the suburbs of brick, and in the more remote portions
sometimes only of wood. There are several public squares
and market-places; some of them of considerable size.
The public buildings are numerous, but most of them are
not very remarkable. By far the largest and finest of
these is the palace, which occupies the northern part of the
Staden Island, and is conspicuous for its immense size and
slightly elevated position. It was begun in 1697 and com¬
pleted in 1753, after the designs of Count Tessin; and
from whatever point it is viewed it presents an aspect im¬
posing from its simple and massive grandeur. The lowest
story is of granite, the rest of brick covered with stucco.
Its form is quadrangular, with two projecting wings towards
the north-east. The finest front is that facing south-east,
which has a portico of six Corinthian columns. On the
north-west it is approached by the new bridge leading from
the northern suburb ; and on the north-east, where it faces
a spacious quay, there is between the two wings a terrace
beautifully laid out as a flower-garden. The palace con¬
tains a picture gallery, sculpture gallery, royal museum,
royal library of about 70,000 volumes, cabinets of antiqui¬
ties, &c. The chapel is profusely decorated, but not in
very good taste. The royal apartments occupy the north¬
east side of the quadrangle, and are approached by a fine
staircase. The royal wardrobe and armoury, containing
many suits of armour and of clothes which belonged to
former monarchs and famous men, has been removed to a
large building in the Gustavus Adolphus market, in the
northern suburb ; and the royal stables, which can accom¬
modate 146 horses, stand on the Helgeandsholm. South
of the palace is an esplanade, called the Slottsbaeken, in
which stand a tall granite obelisk, and a bronze statue of
Gustavus III. Here also is the Cathedral of St Nicholas,
the most ancient church in Stockholm, whose lofty tower
has a very picturesque effect. In the interior there are
two large pictures, and an altar-piece richly carved in
ebony, and adorned with ivory, gold, and silver. Much
more interesting is the Riddarholms Church, on the island
of that name. It is an old Gothic building, but has been
considerably altered by various additions and restorations,
and it is now only used as a royal mausoleum. The aspect
of the interior is very impressive, but quite different at first
sight from that of a church. All round the walls there are
equestrian figures, clothed in complete suits of armour,
worn by the several sovereigns of Sweden. The figures
are eleven in all: one is clothed in the heavy armour of
Birger Jarl, the founder of Stockholm ; another wears the
helmet of Charles VIII., with a vizor in the form of a man’s
face ; and a third, a richly wrought suit of armour, said to
have been made by Benevenuto Cellini for Charles IX.
In a side chapel of this church is the tomb of Gustavus
Adolphus, surrounded by a multitude of flags and other
trophies of his victories. Here are also preserved the
clothes that he wore when killed on the field of Liitzen.
Opposite to this is another chapel, containing the remains
of Charles XII., in a marble tomb ; and here also are to be
seen the cloak and hat worn by the hero in the trench
before Frederickshald, the latter pierced by the bullet
that terminated his existence. Many other Swedish mon¬
archs lie in the vaults of this church, and among their
tombs not the least interesting is that of Bernadotte or
Charles XIV. Many noble and distinguished Swedes, not
of royal lineage, are interred in this church ; and the shields
of the knights of the seraphim are hung round the choir.
Of the other churches in Stockholm, of which there are
20, none are very remarkable; in one of them, that of
VOL. xx.
Adolphus Frederick, there is a monument to Descartes, Stockholm,
who died at the Swedish court. The Riddarhus, or house
of assembly for the nobles, is a plain and not very elegant
structure, with many interesting historical associations.
The hall of the assembly is hung round with the escut¬
cheons of the nobility, and contains a president’s chair, of
fine Dutch workmanship in ebony and ivory. Stockholm
has two theatres, one of which is a large and handsome
building in the northern suburb, opposite the palace. Be¬
side this building is the square of Gustavus Adolphus,
containing a fine bronze statue of that monarch. The
principal other public buildings are the governor’s house,
the town-hall, exchange, post-office, arsenal, and barracks.
On the Skeppsholm stand most of the buildings connected
with the admiralty. The educational institutions of the
city are numerous, including a medical college, technolo¬
gical institution, naval and military schools, and several
others. There are numerous scientific, literary, and artistic
societies; and many hospitals, infirmaries, and other cha¬
ritable establishments. Stockholm is the chief seat of the
manufacturiug industry of Sweden; it produces metal
fabrics, silk, woollen cloth, hosiery, cotton, linen, sugar,
tobacco, &c. 1 here are here, too, a porcelain manufactory
and numerous printing-presses, and many mathematical
and optical instruments are prepared. The southern suburb,
which is occupied chiefly by tradespeople, contains an
immense iron magazine, and a large dock. The trade
of the city is very considerable. The chief articles of ex¬
port are—iron of various kinds, steel, copper, lead, grain,
timber, leather, oil-cakes, and butter. Among the im¬
ported goods are—coals, cotton, wool, raw silk, coffee, sugar,
spices, tea, wine, and spirits, &c. The following table
exhibits the total declared value of the exports and imports
of Stockholm for several years from 1851 to 1857 :—
Imports. Exports.
1851  L.948,844 L.533,508
1853  831,432 548,092
1855   1,412,518 709,575
1856   1,829,380 629,466
1857     1,295,568 615,502
In 1857 the exports and imports were distributed among
different nations, as follows :—
Imports. Exports.
Great Britain and colonies... L.269,846 L.175,026
Hanse Towns  306,034 92,732
Russia  225,472 8337
Prussia  100,322 72,354
Brazil.....    137,886 12,627
France and Algiers   41,072 53,722
Denmark  37,088 46,957
Other countries  177,848 153,747
Total  L.1,295,568
L.615,502
There are more than 200 vessels belonging to the port
of Stockholm. In 1856 the number that entered was 1711,
with an aggregate tonnage of 196,350; the number that
cleared, 1662; tonnage, 171,740. The harbour is some¬
what difficult of entrance, but very large and excellent;
the quays are spacious, and the largest vessels can lie close
to them. Numerous steamers ply between Stockholm and
Lubeck, Stettin, St Petersburg, and other places. In the
environs of the city there are many beautiful and much
frequented parks and promenades. One of the finest of
these is the Djurgard, or deer-park, which occupies an
island to the east of the city, and is easily accessible by
ferry-boats. In this park stands the palace of Rosendal,
built by Bernadotte ; and there are here also many theatres,
ball-rooms, and coffee-houses. The Ladugardsgard, or
review-ground, lies to the north of this, across a narrow
arm of the sea; the Haga Park, to the north-west of the
city, is another favourite resort; as also is the park of
Carlsberg, which contains a favourite palace of Charles XII.,
now occupied by the military academy. At a somewhat
4 u
706 S T O
stocking, greater distance from Stockholm there are several other
v ii— v — J roval and baronial residences, occupying beautiful situations
on the islands or shores of Lake Malar. Stockholm was
founded about the year 1260, by Birger Jarl, who made it
his residence. But even before this time the site had been
occupied; Odin had built here the city Sigtuna, which
flourished for several centuries before the introduction of
Christianity; but is now entirely perished, save a few scat¬
tered ruins. It was near this site, also, that the first Chris¬
tian colony was settled in Sweden; but their abodes also
have almost entirely perished. Stockholm was strongly
fortified, and sustained several sieges. One of the most
memorable of these took place in 1501 and 1502, when
it was held for nearly six months by Queen Christina of
Denmark against the Swedish insurgents, but was at last
surrendered after the garrison had been reduced from about
1000 to 80 in number. A still more noble defence of the
city was made in 1520, by Christina Gyllenstierna against
Christian II. of Denmark. It was surrendered after a siege
of four months ; but the terms of the surrender were viol¬
ated soon after by the conqueror ordering the execution of
all the most distinguished Swedes in the town. This and
similar acts of treachery and cruelty led to the final expul¬
sion of the Danes by Gustavus Vasa. It was not till the
seventeenth century that Stockholm became the capital of
Sweden, Upsala having previously to that time enjoyed that
distinguished honour. Pop. (1859) 101,502.
STOCKING, that part of the clothing of the leg and
foot which immediately covers them from the cold. An¬
ciently, the only stockings in use were made of cloth, or
of milled stuffs sewed together; but since the invention
of knitting and weaving stockings of silk, wool, cotton,
thread, &c., the use of cloth stockings is quite discon¬
tinued. Dr Howell, in his History of the World, vol.
ii., p. 222, relates, that Queen Elizabeth, in 1501, was
presented with a pair of black knit silk stockings by her
silk-woman, and thenceforth she never wore cloth ones any
more. The same author adds, that King Henry VIII.
ordinarily wore cloth hose, except there came from Spain,
by great chance, a pair of silk stockings. His son, King
Edward VI., was presented with a pair of long Spanish silk
stockings by Sir Thomas Gresham, and the present was
then much taken notice of. Hence it should seem that
the invention of silk knit stockings originally came from
Spain. Others relate, that one William Rider, an appren¬
tice on London Bridge, seeing at the house of an Italiaw
merchant a pair of knit worsted stockings from Mantua,
took the hint, and made a pair exactly like them, which he
presented to William earl of Pembroke, and that they were
the first of that kind worn in England, anno 1564. The
modern stockings, whether woven or knit, are formed of
an infinite number of little knots, called stitches, loops, or
meshes, intermingled in one another. Knit stockings are
wrought with needles made of polished iron or brass wire,
which interweave the threads, and form the meshes of
which the stocking consists. At what time the art of knit¬
ting was invented, it is perhaps impossible to determine,
though it has been usually attributed to the Scots, as it is
said that the first works of this kind came from Scotland.
It is added, that it was on this account that the company
of stocking-knitters established at Paris in 1527 took for
their patron St Fiacre, who is said to have been the son of
a king of Scotland. But it is most probable that the
method of knitting stockings by wires or needles was first
brought from Spain.
Woven stockings are generally very fine. They are
manufactured on a frame or machine made of polished
iron, the structure of which it is needless to describe, as it
may be seen in almost every considerable town in Great
S T O
Britain. The invention of this machine is, by Mr Ander- Stockport
son, attributed to William Lee, M.A. of St John’s College,
Cambridge, at a period so early as 1589. Others have
given the credit of the invention to a student of Oxford at
a much later period, who, it is said by Aaron Hill,1 was
driven to it by dire necessity. This young man falling in
love with an innkeeper’s daughter, married her though she
had not a penny, and he by his marriage lost a fellowship.
They soon fell into extreme poverty ; and their marriage
producing the consequences naturally to be expected from
it, they became miserable, not so much on account of
their sufferings, as from the melancholy dread of what
would become of their yet unborn infant. Their only
means of support was the knitting of stockings, at which
the woman was very expert. “ But sitting constantly
together from morning to night, and the scholar often fix¬
ing his eyes, with steadfast observation, on the motion of
his wife’s fingers in the dexterous management of her
needles, he took it into his imagination that it was not im¬
possible to contrive a little loom which might do the work
with much more expedition. This thought he communi¬
cated to his wife, and joining his head to her hands, the
endeavour succeeded to their wish. Thus the ingenious
stocking-loom, which is so common now, was first invented;
by which he did not only make himself and his family
happy, but has left his nation indebted to him for a benefit
which enables us to export silk stockings in great quantities,
and to a vast advantage, to those very countries from whence
before we used to bring them, at considerable loss in the
balance of our traffic.”
STOCKPORT, a market-town, parliamentary and mu¬
nicipal borough of England, in Cheshire, on the borders of
Lancashire, at the confluence of the Mersey and the Tame,
5 miles S.E. of Manchester. It occupies a pretty steep
hill, washed on two sides by the Mersey; and the houses
rise in irregular tiers from the base to the summit, so as to
present, especially by night, when the factories and other
buildings are lighted up, a very picturesque appearance.
The older part of the town occupies the central and most
elevated position, where there is a spacious market-place on
a pretty, flat piece of ground. From this the various streets,
which are for the most part steep and narrow, diverge in
different directions. The Mersey is crossed by four bridges,
and the Tame by one, which connect the town proper with
several extensive suburbs on their other sides. Heaton-
Norris, Edgeley, and Portwood are the names of the largest
of these. The old bridge over the Mersey consists of one
lofty arch. Below this is another, recently built, with 11
arches, crossing not merely the river, but many of the
streets, at an elevation of 40 feet above the water. Much
loftier is the viaduct of the London and North-Western
Railway, which is supported by 26 arches, the central one
110 feet above the river. The principal building in Stock-
port is the parish church, which stands near the market¬
place. It was originally built in the fourteenth century,
but has been almost entirely rebuilt in modern times, in
the perpendicular style. The chancel retains the original
decorated architecture, and was restored in 1848; it con¬
tains fine stone stalls and some interesting tombs. This
church has also a lofty pinnacled tower, with a peal of eight
bells. St Thomas’s church is a fine Grecian building, with a
tower and cupola. The other churches belonging to the Estab¬
lishment are 6 in number within the limits of the borough;
besides which, there are numerous dissenting places of
worship, 15 belonging to different sects of Methodists, 5 to
Independents, 3 to Baptists, and 1 each to Roman Catho¬
lics, Unitarians, and Mormonites. Another conspicuous
edifice in the town is the new market-house, which has a
handsome front, and contains a spacious hall, roofed with
1 See an Account of the Rise and Progress of the Beech Oil Invention, &c., 8vo, 1715.
S T O
Stocks iron and lighted from above. Other public buildings are
II the court-house, barracks, theatre, and news-room. Some
Stockton- 0p f.pjg gchooig aiso occupy large and handsome edifices.
upon-Tees. among t]iese ;s the free grammar-school, founded in
J 1487, and under the patronage of the Goldsmith’s Com¬
pany of London. The school-house was rebuilt in a hand¬
some style in 1832. A national school, which was founded
here in 1805, has a large and fine building. There are,
besides these, British and infant schools, and Sunday schools
belonging to the different denominations. One of the last-
mentioned occupies an enormous building, containing 84
class-rooms, and attended by about 4000 children. Stock-
port has a mechanics’ institute ; an infirmary, with a Gre¬
cian front, occupying a prominent position in the town ;
a dispensary ; almshouses ; poorhouse ; and other charitable
institutions. The cotton manufacture has one of its chief
seats in this town ; where it has supplanted the silk trade
that formerly used to flourish here, but has very much de¬
clined. For spinning and weaving cotton there are in the
town and suburbs about 100 houses, employing in all more
than 3800 horse-power. One of the factories is an immense
building, 300 feet by 200, having six storeys and about 600
windows. In addition to these there are three houses for
printing cotton, two for bleaching, and several for dyeing.
Silk goods, thread, hats, brushes, spindles, &c., are also
manufactured here: the casting of brass and iron, the
making of machinery, and brewing are carried on, and
there are several brick-fields in the vicinity. Manufacturing
industry is greatly favoured by the abundance of coal found
in the neighbourhood. Markets are held weekly, and fairs
four times a year. The town stands on a branch of the
Manchester and Ashton Canal, and is the place of junction
of several important lines of railway. The borough is
governed by a mayor, 13 aldermen, and 42 councillors ;
and returns two members to Parliament. Stockport is be¬
lieved to occupy the site of an old Roman station, which
stood at the junction of several roads, and was thus a place
of considerable importance. A Roman fort probably stood
on the place afterwards occupied by a castle, which has
now entirely disappeared. It was held in 1173, by Geoffrey
de Constantin against Henry II. During the civil war of
the seventeenth century, Stockport was the scene of some
fighting: it was taken from the Parliamentarians by Rupert
in 1644, but retaken by Lesley in the following year. In
1745, the town was occupied by Prince Charles Edward. It
was first made a municipal and parliamentary borough by the
Reform Act of 1832. Pop. of the borough (1851) 53,835.
STOCKS, or Public Funds in England. See Fund¬
ing System.
STOCKTON-UPON-TEES, a market-town and muni¬
cipal borough of England, in the county of Durham, on the
left bank of the Tees, about 4 miles from its mouth, and
18 miles S.E. of Durham. It is for the most part substan¬
tially built of brick, and regularly laid out, having one main
street nearly a mile in length, running from north to south.
At the south end of this street a handsome stone-bridge of
five arches crosses the river into Yorkshire. A short dis¬
tance below this bridge the river bends towards the north,
where it is lined by a wharf running parallel to the main
street, and connected with it by numerous smaller streets.
West of the principal street there are many handsome new
streets and buildings, and in the north-east of the town is
a large square, planted with trees, and lined with good
houses. The parish church is a large edifice of brick,
erected in 1710 on the site of one as old as 1234. It has
a tower 80 feet high, and contains a theological library.
Trinity Church is a neat Gothic building, with a square
tower and octagonal spire. Stockton also contains places
of worship for Independents, Methodists, Presbyterians,
Quakers, Baptists, Roman Catholics, and Unitarians. Se¬
veral of these have Sunday schools attached to them ; and
S T O 707
there are, besides, National, British, and infant schools ; Stoddart.
a bluecoat charity school, school of industry for girls, a V*v^'/
library, newsroom, and mechanics’ institute. Among the
charitable institutions there are several almshouses and a
dispensary. The town-hall, a square building with a clock-
tower, stands in the market-place, and near it is a handsome
Doric column, 33 feet high, which occupies the site of the
old market-cross. Stockton has also a custom-house,
theatre, assembly-rooms, and billiard-rooms. The manu¬
factures and trade of the town are both very extensive.
Among the former, the most important are those of linen
and sailcloth, ropes, and worsted, along with the building
of ships and boats, the casting of brass and iron, brewing,
&c. The town imports from foreign countries masts,
spars, and timber, iron, hemp, flax, tallow, and hides ; from
British ports, groceries, wine, spirits, and colonial wares.
The chief article exported to foreign lands is lead; to
London and other ports in this country are sent flour,
butter, cheese, linen, yarn, timber, and coal. In 1857,
there were registered as belonging the port, 137 sailing-
vessels, tonnage 28,261 ; and 30 steamers, tonnage 2986.
In the same year there entered the port 1180 sailing-
vessels, tonnage 122,411 ; and 129 steamers, tonnage
28,68G: and there cleared 2683 sailing-vessels, tonnage
259,560; and 180 steamers, tonnage 45,191. The river
is navigable for some distance above the town, and its
navigation has been improved by a cut made just below,
which avoids a considerable bend in the river, and facili¬
tates the access of vessels to the town. Ships of 300 tons
burden can come up to the quays of Stockton. The town
is connected by railway with all the lines in Great Britain ;
and the line from this to Darlington was the first that was
constructed, having been opened for goods in 1825, and at
a later period also for passengers. Stockton is an ancient
place; it was at one time the residence of the bishops of
Durham, who had a castle here, of which, since its demo¬
lition in 1652, only a few traces remain. The town was
plundered by the Scotch in 1325; and in the civil war of
Charles I. it adhered to that monarch, but was taken by
the Scotch in 1644. The borough is governed by a mayor,
5 aldermen, and 18 councillors. Pop. of the borough,
10,459; of the town, 9808.
STODDART, Sir John, was born in 1773, and was
educated at the grammar-school of Salisbury, under Dr
Skinner. Having made considerable proficiency at that
institution, he entered Christ Church, Oxford, in 1790,
where he studied divinity ; but subsequently preferring the
law, he commenced the study of it, and took the degree of
D.C.L. in 1801. In 1796 and 1798 he had engaged in a
joint translation of the Fiesco and Don Carlos of Schiller
with Dr Noehden. Taking, at the outset, a favourable
view of the French Revolution, he had published in 1797
a translation of a French work on the Executive Directory
of France. In 1801 he wrote Remarks on Local Scenery
and Manners in Scotland, during the years 1799 and 1800,
2 vols. 4to. Stoddart having entered the College of Advo¬
cates, was appointed in 1803 King’s Advocate and Admi¬
ralty Advocate in Malta, where he remained for the next
four years. In 1810 he commenced writing on politics in
The Times newspaper, which in 1812 led to his appoint¬
ment as political editor of the same journal. With much
energy, great knowledge, a clear style, and a great deal of
bluster, he wrote such vigorous and often absurd articles in
“ the great Thunderer,” as led to his being burlesqued and
caricatured by the wits of London as the great Dr Slop of
Printing-House Square. The proprietors of The Times
disapproving, it is said, of the rancour of his fulminations
against the exiled Emperor N. Buonaparte, dissolved his
connection with that newspaper in 1816. In 1817 he made
an attempt to revive his decadent political glory by the
publication of the New Times. The English people did
708 S T O
Stoics not regard his fire and fury, and allowed it quietly to burn
II itself out. In 1826 he was made a knight, and was ap-
tolberg^ poised Chief-Justice and Judge of the Vice-Admiralty
* v^" Court of Malta, where he remained during the next thirteen
years. On his return to England he went into retirement,
where he is said to have been much and widely esteemed.
He wrote An Introduction to General History, and a
Universal Grammar for the Encyclopcedia Metropolitana,
which have also appeared as separate works. Besides
writing political pamphlets on various subjects of popular
note, he took a lively interest in the amendment of law;
and at the first meeting of the Law Amendment Society
after his death, which occurred on February 16, 1856, Lord
Brougham pronounced a eulogium on his memory.
STOICS, the name given to that sect of Grecian philo¬
sophers founded by Zeno of Citium, from Sroa, the porch
in Athens where he taught.
S LOKE-UPON-I RENT, a market-town and parlia¬
mentary borough of England, in the county and 16 miles N.
by W. of Stafford, 148 miles N.W. of London, on the Trent.
The borough is much more extensive than the town, and
includes a large portion of the district known by the name
of the Potteries, comprising several distinct parishes and
townships. The town of Stoke has been of late much
improved, and is now very well built: the town-hall is an
elegant edifice, and the parish church is a fine specimen of
the later English architecture, with a beautiful painted
window and several monuments, including that of the cele¬
brated Wedgwood. The Baptists, Quakers, and several
sects of Methodists, have also places of worship in the town.
Education is provided for by National and Diocesan schools.
The principal manufactures of the place are those of china
and earthenware, in which a very large proportion of the
people is employed. There are also extensive coal-works
in the vicinity. Markets are held weekly, and are well
supplied with all kinds of provisions. The borough has
been represented in Parliament by two members since the
Reform Act of 1832. Dr Lightfoot, the celebrated and
learned divine, was born at the rectory of Stoke-upoti-Trent
in 1602. Pop. of the borough, 84,027; of the parish,
57,942.
STOLBERG, The Brothers. Count Christian
Stolberg, who was the eldest of the two celebrated men
who bore this name, was born of an ancient family in Ger¬
many on the 15th October 1748. Leopold Friedrich
Stolberg, who was the younger brother, was born on the
7th November 1750. .^iTiey prosecuted their studies
together at the University of Gottingen, where they culti¬
vated literature and allied themselves with that band of
poets who were then rising into fame, of whom the chief
were Burger, Voss, and Holty. They became distinguished
for their classical taste ; were enormous admirers of Klop-
stock, and judged Ossian divine. The younger brother
executed a very tolerable translation of Homer’s Iliad, and
subsequently published a translation of a portion of iEschy-
lus. The two brothers made a tour with Goethe through
Switzerland and part of Italy, and returned by way of
Copenhagen. Christian having now married, the two
brothers had to separate. After composing some dramas
on the classical models, and serving under the prince-bishop
of Lubeck, Friedrich likewise married in 1782. In 1785
he was intrusted by the Danish court with a mission of
importance to the court of Russia. On his return he retired
to Neuenburg in Prussia, where he wrote Der Island, a
sort of novel, containing dialogue, reflection, description,
and recommendation. In 1789 he was again invited by
the Danish court to act as its minister to the court of Prussia.
He continued to reside in Berlin after his embassy was at
an end, and made another tour through Germany, Switzer¬
land, Italy, and Sicily, of which he published an account in
four discursive volumes in 1794. He was subsequently
S T O
employed on various embassies between the courts of Den- stolo
mark and Russia. Friedrich had hitherto been a zealous ||
Protestant, but the aspects of the French Revolution seemed Stone-
to have awakened alarm within his breast. The Protestants haven,
of Germany for the most part eyed favourably that baptism
of blood and fire which the French nation was undergoing,
and from this, or perhaps from some deeper cause, he went
over with his whole family to the Church of Rome. After
his conversion he wrote his Geschichte der Religion Jesu
Christ, which was published in 15 volumes in 1806. His
works, which are very varied, consist of odes, satires, hymns,
elegies, translations, dramas, histories, and novels. He
died on the 5th September 1819. His brother Christian
wrote poems, dramas, translations, and biographies, and
died on the 18th of Japuary 1821. The younger brother
had the most ability, but both, in many of their writings,
display noble sentiment, kindly feeling, and lofty aspiration.
STOLPE, a town of the Prussian monarchy, Pomerania,
in the government and 38 miles N.E. of Coslin, on the
river Stolpe, about nine miles above its mouth. It has a
castle, built in 1507, and is surrounded by walls and en¬
tered by four gates. Here are four churches, a nunnery,
several hospitals, a court of law, and public offices. One
of the churches is remarkable for its antiquity, and another
for a very lofty tower. Stolpe is the chief seat in Pome¬
rania of the manufacture of amber articles, and carries on
a considerable trade in these, as well as in linen, timber,
and fish. At the mouth of the river stands its port, Stolpe-
miinde, which has a considerable navigation and fishery.
The river abounds in salmon. Pop. 11,340.
STONE, Edmund, a distinguished self-taught mathe¬
matician, was born in Scotland, but neither the place nor
the time of his birth is well known ; nor have we any
memoirs of his early life, except in a letter from the Che¬
valier Ramsay to Father Castel, a Jesuit of Paris, and
published in the Memoires de Trevoux. Born the son of
a gardener of the Duke of Argyle, he was eight years of
age before he learned to read. By chance a servant hav¬
ing taught him the letters of the alphabet, there needed
nothing more to expand his abilities. He applied himself
to study, and arrived at the knowledge of the most sublime
geometry and analysis, without a master, without a conduc¬
tor, without any other guide but the light of his own mind.
He was author and translator of several useful works, viz.,
A New Mathematical Dictionary, in 8vo, first printed in
1726; Fluxions, in 8vo, 1730; the Direct Method is a
translation from the French of De I’Hospital’s Analyse des
infiniment Petits, and the Inverse Method was supplied
by Stone himself; The Elements of Euclid, in 2 vols. 8vo,
1731. Stone was a fellow of the Royal Society, and had
inserted in the Philosophical Transactions (vol. xli., p.
218) an “ Account of two species of lines of the 3d order,
not mentioned by Sir Isaac Newton or Mr Stirling.” In *
1758 he published “The Construction and principal Uses
of Mathematical Instruments;” translated from the French
of M. Bion. In 1742 or 1743 his name was withdrawn
from the list of the Royal Society; and in his old age he
appears to have been left to poverty and neglect. He sur¬
vived till March or April 1768.
STONEHAVEN, a burgh of barony and market-town
of Scotland, in the county of Kincardine, at the mouth of
the rivers Carron and Cowie, in a small bay on the German
Ocean, 15 miles S. by W. of Aberdeen. It consists of an
old and a new town, the former on the right and the latter
on the left bank of the Carron, which is here crossed by a
bridge connecting them. The old town has one principal
street, broad but irregular, and is in general but ill built;
the new town, on the contrary, has a spacious square and
several streets running in straight lines parallel or at right
angles to each other. In the square stands a fine market-
house, and the houses in this part of the town are for the
S T O
Stone- most part superior to those in the older portion. In the
henge. vicinity of Stonehaven stand the parish churches of Dun-
^y ottar and Fetteresso, and there are also others belonging to
the Free Church, the United Presbyterians, and the'Scot¬
tish Episcopal Church. The town has several schools, a
literary institution, library, court-house, and jail. Cotton
and linen fabrics are manufactured here, and there are also
a distillery and a brewery. Haddock and herring fishing
give employment to many of the people. The harbour is
a natural basin, but has been improved by the erection of
piers ; it is, however, only accessible to small vessels. Two
miles further south, on a rock overhanging the sea, and
separated from the mainland by a deep chasm, stand the
ruins of Dunottar Castle, once the seat of the Earls
Marischal. Pop. 3240.
S 1 ONEHEN GE, a singular and gigantic remnant of
antiquity, consisting of enormous stones, in an upright or
horizontal position, in Salisbury Plain, Wiltshire, about 2
miles W. of Amesbury, and 9 N. of Salisbury. When
seen fiom a distance its appearance is somewhat insignifi¬
cant, on account of its position on a wide, unbroken plain ;
and even when close at hand, it requires some careful ex¬
amination before its magnitude can be fully appreciated.
It is the prevailing opinion among antiquarians that Stone¬
henge owes its origin to the Druids, and it has attracted
much attention, as it is of great extent, and in some re¬
spects very different from other remains of the same general
character. The plain in which it stands is covered with a
great number of mounds or barrows, many of them contain¬
ing ancient Biitish remains. Stonehenge itself is enclosed
by a double mound or ditch, circular in form ; and there is
an avenue or approach leading from the north-east, and
bounded on each side by a similar mound and ditch. The
outer mound is 15 feet high, the ditch nearly 30 feet broad,
the whole 1009 feet in circumference, and the avenue 594
yards long. The whole fabric consists of 2000 circles and
two ovals. The outer circle is about 108 feet in diameter,
consisting, when entire, of 60 stones, 30 uprights and 30
imposts, ofTphich remain only 24 uprights, 17 standing and
7 down, feet asunder, and 8 imposts. Eleven uprights
have 5 imposts on them by the grand entrance. These
stones are from 13 to 20 feet high. The smaller circle is
somewhat more than 8 feet from the inside of the outer
one, and consisted of about 30 smaller stones (the highest
6 feet), of which only 19 remain, and only 11 standing:
the walk between these two circles is 300 feet in circum¬
ference. The central portion is an oval formed of 10
stones (from 16 to 22 feet high), in pairs, with imposts,
which Dr Stukeley calls trilithons, and each pair separate,
and not connected as the stones in the outer circle are!
Within these were a number of smaller single stones, of
which only 6 are standing. At the upper end of the ady¬
tum is the altar, a large slab of blue coarse marble, 20
inches thick, 16 feet long, and 4 broad; pressed down by
the weight of the vast stones that have fallen upon it. The
whole number of stones, when the structure was complete,
is calculated to have been about 140. Many of the stones
S T O 709
have been more or less hewn, and they appear to have been stone-
brought from Marlborough Downs, 15 or 16 miles off, as house,
they appear to be of the same hardness, grain, and colour,
generally reddish, with the Gray Weathers still found
there. The . heads of oxen, deer, and other beasts, have
been found on digging in and about Stonehenge, and
human bodies have also been discovered in the circum¬
jacent barrows. There are three entrances from the plain
to this structure, the most considerable of which is from
the north-east, and at each of them were raised on the
outside of the trench two huge stones, with two smaller
within, parallel to them.
It has been long a dispute among the learned, by what
people and for what purpose these enormous stones were
collected and arranged. The first account of the structure
we meet with is in Geoffrey of Monmouth, who, in the
reign of King Stephen, wrote the history of the Britons in
Latin. He tells us that it was erected by the counsel of
Metlin, the British enchanter, at the command of Aurelius
Ambiosius, the last British king, in memory of 460 Britons
who were murdered by Hengist the Saxon. The next
account is that of Polydore Vergil, who says that the Bri¬
tons erected this as a sepulchral monument of Aurelius
Ambrosius. But other writers in the 12th century discredit
all these accounts; and it appears that even at that early
time all knowledge of its origin and intention had passed
away. Inigo Jones is of opinion that it was a Roman
temple, from a stone, 16 feet long and 4 broad, placed
in an exact position to the eastward, altar-fash ion. Dr
Charlton attributed it to the Danes, who were two years
masters of Wiltshire. Many other theories have been since
propounded, and supported with more or less ingenuity and
plausibility; but in a matter so obscure little more than a
probable conjecture of the truth can be hoped for. It seems
most likely that Stonehenge was erected by the ancient
Britons for solemn religious rites; and from the art dis¬
played in its construction, it could not have been much
earlier than the time of the Roman conquest. In the
vicinity of Stonehenge are the remains of what seems to
have been an ancient race-course; and as in early times
the public games were generally connected with religious
celebrations, it is highly probable that this was in connec¬
tion with the temple at Stonehenge.
SFONEHOUSE, a village of Scotland, Lanarkshire,
15 miles S.E. of Glasgow. It consists chiefly of thatched
houses, and contains an Established church, a Free
church, and a United Presbyterian church. The people
are largely employed in weaving silk, cotton, and woollen
fabrics, and there are in the vicinity coal-pits, lime-kilns,
and brick-works. Pop. of the parish, 2781.
Stonehouse, a village of England, in the county of
Gloucester, 3 miles W. of Stroud. It has an old parish
church, places of worship for Wesleyans and Independents,
an endowed school, and manufactories of cloth. It stands
on the Stroudwater Canal, and is a station on the Great
Western Union Railway. Pop. of the parish, 2589.
Stonehouse, a suburb of Plymouth. See Plymouth.
no
STONE-MASONRY.
History.
Definition
and deriva
tion.
Origin and
history.
Cromlechs,
&e.
Cyclopasun
masonry.
Nineveh,
Persepolis,
&c.
Egyptian
masonry.
1. Stone-Masonry is the art of building in stone. The
word masoms derived directly from the French ma$on, which
signifies indifferently a bricklayer or mason. Du Cange at-
■ tributes the origin of the word to the low Latin maceria, a
wall; others have endeavoured to show that it comes from
machina, because builders use machines for hoisting mate¬
rials ; but by far the most probable derivation is that of the
French maison, a house ; thus maisonver is to build houses,
and the magon, the man who builds them. Among our¬
selves, at present, we reckon three sorts of artificers—
rubble or rag-stone masons, freestone masons, and marble
masons. This last branch, however, is rather that of the
carver or statuary. The art of working or reducing stone
to the proper shape for the mason to set, or place them in
the walls, &c., has generally been called stone-cutting, and
depends very much on the nature of the stone for its details.
2. The art of’ building with stone is of very great anti¬
quity ; it was originally, no doubt, suggested by the holes
in the rocks, or natural caves, in which our forefathers
sheltered themselves from the inclemencies of the weather.
The perishable nature of their wooden huts afterwards sug¬
gested an imitation of them in stone as a durable material;
and the trunks of trees, and the beams laid across them,
were probably the prototypes of columns and architraves.
3. Among rude and barbarous people there seems to
have been always a great desire to erect huge masses of
stones, either as memorials of some event, or for the pur¬
poses of religion, and the early history of almost every
country treats of some of these structures. (See Cromlechs,
Stonehenge, Architecture, p. 423, &c.) The treatises of Dr
Lukis, and other papers in Archceologia, give the fullest
account of these structures.
4. The necessity for defence against predatory tribes
seems to have given the next impulse to building with
stone, and to this we probably owe those extraordinary
walls, commonly called Cyclopean or Pelasgic {Architec¬
ture, p. 439). These are huge polygonal blocks of stone,
carefully cut so as to fit exactly to each other without mor¬
tar, and forming walls which must have been impregnable
at that time. An idea of their size may be gathered from
the fact that in the Etruscan walls at Rusellae, Mr Dennis
[Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, vol. ii.) measured a stone
12 feet 8 inches long by 2 feet 10 inches high. Most of
the blocks forming these walls would weigh from 6 to 8
tons. It seems very difficult to understand in that state of
civilization how they were hoisted and set. Pausanias
(ii. 25), describing those of Argolis, says,—“ The walls,
the only remains of the city left, are the work of the Cy¬
clops, and are made of rough blocks of such size that a yoke
of mules would be unable to move the smallest.”
5. At Nineveh the walls seem mostly of unburned brick,
but they are lined with huge slabs of marble, or rather a
species of alabaster, the working and carving of which show
a very great advance in art. (See Nineveh.) The archi¬
tecture of the Hindus, Persians, Phoenicians, and Jews, will
be found under their respective heads. (Art. Architec¬
ture.) But there is nothing about their masonry differing
from that of other similar structures on which it would be
profitable to dwell.
6. The Egyptians, however, seem not only to have used
gigantic masonry, but also to have had the power of work¬
ing, carving, and polishing granite in a way which we cer¬
tainly cannot at present attain to. The most marvellous
fact connected with their masonry seems to be that the „.
whole work was executed with copper or rather bronze 18 °Tr
tools, which seem to have answered their purpose better
than even our best and hardest steel. Such seems to have
been the facility with which they worked this, to us un-
tractable material, that they were not content to cut and
polish huge slabs and masses of granite, but they covered
them all over with the most delicate and sharp-cut hiero-
glyphical inscriptions.
7. The masonry of the Greeks yet remaining is chiefly Qrepk
of beautiful marble. The workmanship is of the most masonry,
exquisite character, the joints, &c., of the greatest truth.
The artistic beauties of the carving, &c., have been un¬
rivalled at any period. It seems difficult to believe that
so enlightened a people were ignorant of the use of the
arch, especially as it is clear it was known not only to the
Egyptians, but was used at Nineveh. However, no ex¬
ample of a Greek arch exists at this time, as an architec¬
tural feature, although, as has been said before (art. Arch,
§ 8, p. 401), for necessary purposes (as covering drains), and
concealed in the walls (as discharging arches), examples
are to be found in Greek works. (See Ferguson’s Hand-
Book, p. 252 ; Architecture Suppi., § 2, p. 500.) It is pro¬
bable that, as they had plenty of marble in blocks of
almost any size, they preferred to use it in horizontal bear¬
ings, to working it into arch forms.
8. It was, however, the contrary with Roman masons; Roinan
although it is true many of their temples were Greek in ma80
character, and most of them rivalled those of that nation in
size and in the vastness of their material.1 But in general
there was less of that ponderous strength that characterized
the Egyptian and the Grecian Doric; and much more
science in the construction, particularly as regarded eco¬
nomy; though in point of artistic beauty they were far below
the Greeks. To what nation or race the invention of
the arch may be attributed, it is clear the Romans were
the first to bring it into general use; and though we
read of a species of dome among the Greeks called 6o\os,
and though the Hindus delight in domical construction,
it is clear the Romans were the first in Europe to use
the true dome in covering their temples. Besides this,
they had not only good lime but plenty of pozzolano, and
therefore their mortar and cement were of first-rate quality.
To these advantages we may attribute the vast works which
to the present day amaze the spectator, who cannot view
their cloacae, aqueducts, amphitheatres, basilicae, walls,
towers, tombs, domes, harbours, without wonder at the en¬
terprise of the people and the skill of their masons.
9. After the ruin of the Roman empire, and the irrup- ^jjiaeva
tion of the savage hordes over the whole of civilized Europe, masonry,
the art of masonry, like all others, declined to the lowest
ebb. In fact, except for the erection of rude forts and
towers, it became almost extinct. In England we owe its
first revival to the works of the Norman invaders; and
next, no doubt, to the return of the crusaders, who had
witnessed with admiration the marvellous lightness of the
buildings in the east, and who brought back with them tlie
arts and learning of the Arabians, especially their mathema¬
tical science. From these sources, no doubt, pointed archi¬
tecture took its rise, and massive cylindrical pillars, composed
of many small pieces of stone; small circular-headed windows;
walls of vast thickness, with very shallow buttresses; and
plain groining without ribs, gradually became changed to
1 There are pieces of the architrave of the Temple of the Sun now lying on the Quirinal at Rome, measuring 16 ft. 6 in. long by
9 ft. 6 in. high, and about 6 ft. thick, or nearly 50 tons in weight.
S T ON E-MAS ON K Y.
History
Masonry of
the six¬
teenth and
seven¬
teenth cen¬
turies.
Eighteenth
and nine¬
teenth cen¬
turies.
State on
the con¬
tinent.
Italy.
France.
Germany,
Russia.
Divisions
of the sub¬
ject.
light shafted piers, and delicately moulded arches ; windows
rich with varied tracery; pannelled walls, with bold but¬
tresses, surmounted by niches, and crowned with pinnacles;
and groined roofs, fretted with a net-work of ribs, and
studded with richly floriated bosses.
10. The revival of classic architecture threw the arts
into another channel, and the masons had hardly forgotten
their old traditions when Jones and Wren introduced them
to new details. 1 he latter, in particular, formed an excel¬
lent school of masonry. The works at St Paul’s, and his
other public buildings, are executed in a very superior
manner. He seems to have been very choice in the selec¬
tion of his stone. Among all his buildings is scarcely a
failure, or a defective block. Besides this, by the assist¬
ance of Gibbons, he formed an excellent school of archi¬
tectural carvers.
11. The art of masonry was well upheld by Hawksmoor,
Van burgh, and Chambers; but shortly began to languish,
when the inordinate use of cements, first introduced by the
Adamses, came into vogue. Besides this, the heavy duties
imposed on the transport of stone by sea, and the high
prices which all materials bore during the war, threatened
to reduce masonry to its lowest. The revival of Gothic
architecture has renewed the use of freestone, and has
taught our masons the art of working tracery, groined
roofs, flying buttresses, and such use of stone as was
supposed, scarce a century ago, to be one of the lost arts.
Besides this, the abolition of duties, and the introduction
of many facilities of transport by steam, both by land and
water, has so reduced the price of stone, that in many
places the use of cement is a false economy. Again, our
intercourse with the Continent has brought us into more
familiar acquaintance with the great works of classic anti¬
quity, and of the Italian Renaissance. In addition to
these causes, the vast engineering works, our docks, har¬
bours, lighthouses, bridges, and, above all, our railroads,
which have lately been constructed all over the country,
have given a vast impetus to the study and practice of con-
stiuctive masonry on the largest scale ; and the consequence
is, we now have in Great Britain a body of masons of
higher and more varied skill then perhaps ever was known
in this country at any time, both as regards constructive
ability and elegant taste.
12. In Italy the old customs and traditions are still
closely followed, and masonry is extremely well but slowly
executed. The fine viaduct lately built at Albano is, how¬
ever, a favourable example of Italian engineering in stone;
and as railways gradually spread over the country we may
expect still greater progress. In France masonry has always
flourished, stone being so abundant, especially in the neigh¬
bourhood of Paris. The late works at the Great Exposi¬
tion, particularly the beautiful bridge over the Seine, and
the noble buildings which unite the Tuileries and Louvre,
form probably the finest palace in the world, and speak
highly of the state of the art in France. In Germany we
may note the fine works at Munich, particularly the Val¬
halla, the Pinacothek, and the Glyptothek; at Berlin, the
beautiful buildings of Shinkel; and in Russia the vast im¬
provements at St Petersburg, particularly the cathedral of
St Isaac, the dome of which is surrounded by twenty-four
columns, each of one single piece, and each weighing
more than 60 tons, and standing at the height of 150 feet
above the ground. (See art. St Petersburg, vol. xvii.,
p. 490.) ’ ’
13. It is now proposed to treat this subject under the
following heads:—
I. Materials used in masonry.—1. The various kinds of
stone. 2. 1 heir durability and causes of decay. 3. Mor¬
tars and cements.
^ ^1e principles of stability and strength in
masomy. Under this head it is proposed to give the whole
of the scientific article written by the late Professor Robi¬
son expressly for this work.
III.—Of foundations.—1. On land. 2. In the water.
IV-—On stone cutting and setting.—1. General. 2.
Mediaeval.
^ ' On artificial stones, and on the induration of soft
stones.
711
Materials
used in
Masonry.
!•—OF MATERIALS USED IN MASONRY.
14. In our article on Mineralogical Science, vol. xv., Materials,
p. 155, we have given an epitome of the various rocks
which compose the fabric of the globe. We purpose to go
through this list, showing those used in building as they
occur seriatim, with some practical remarks upon each,
which will give a complete epitome of the materials used
by masons in all ages.
15. Of Igneous Rocks of volcanic origin, the varieties Igneous
which have been used are those light stones called tufa and rocks of
pumice, and that stone called peperino. The two former of vo.lcfnic
these were extensively employed by the Romans in the ori£in-
filling in of vaulting, on account of their great lightness.
I he latter stone, which is obtained in large quantities near
Rome ; and which, though of volcanic origin, resembles a
sort of coarse oolitic conglomerate, was used by that people
extensively, particularly for substructures, for which it is
fitted, being obtained in large blocks.
Of the second division of igneous rocks, the trappean ; Trappean.
porphyry, and serpentine have been used, but chiefly as
ornamental coloured stones, and have been generally classed
as marbles.
Of this third division the granite alone is in use, and is Super-sili-
now very extensively employed, not only in bridges and cated
engineering works, but in public buildings and dwellings, stones.
It is got from the quarries by splitting the blocks with Granite,
wedges, and is so hard it cannot be cut by any ordinary
saws. It can only be worked first with large hammers, and
then reduced by pointed chisels, and consequently is very
expensive in building. Some very good specimens come
from Cornwall and Devonshire, but by far the best are from
Dundee and Aberdeen. A variety of the latter, called Peter¬
head, is only to be equalled by the finest oriental granites.
16. Of Aqueous Rocks—Mechanically formed, and of Aqueous
the Arenaceous varieties.—Gravel is used by masons for rocks,
concrete, and sand in making mortar. Sandstones and grit- Gravel and
stones are very extensively used. These are either laminated, sand-
as the York stone, and used generally for paving, as it can y0rk pav-
readily be split into large surfaces of small relative thickness; ing.
or compact as old red sandstones, which stand very well inter- Old red
nally, but perish sadly with the weather, as may be seen at sandstone.
Chester cathedral. The new sandstones, the best of which
is the Calverley stone, got near Tunbridge Wells. These Tunbridge
stones are easily quarried, but, if sawn, the wet saw and sandstone,
sand must be used. The finer grained compact sandstones, Compact
which are comparatively free from iron, and form very good sandstone,
building-stones, are very numerous. We name a few. These
are the Bramley Fall, used by engineers for bridge copings,
&c.; the Park Spring, Elland Edge, and Whitby, all from
Yorkshire. Scotland can boast of some of the finest
quarries of sandstone, the best of which, perhaps, is the
Craigleith, much used at Edinburgh. The college, courts of
law, registry, custom-house, royal exchange, national monu¬
ment, and many churches and private residences there, are
built of this excellent material, which has also been exten¬
sively exported to Hamburg, Altona, Gottenburg, and the
continent. Humbie stone has also been extensively used, Humble,
both at Edinburgh and at Glasgow, where it forms the
Royal Exchange and bank. It is easier to work than Craig¬
leith. Glammis is also a fine sandstone. The castle there, Glammis
as well as those at Inverquharity and Cortachy, and Lin-
dertis House, are built of this. In Fifeshire, at Culello, are Culello
712
STONE-MASONRY.
lie i gate
firestone.
Argillace-
Lime-
stones.
Materials quarries from whence the stones for the monument to Lord
used in Melville at Edinburgh, and that to Lord Nelson at Yar-
Masonry. were obtained. In addition to beauty and dura-
bility, these stones have the merit of being capable of
receiving the finest and smoothest forms from the chisel of
the workman. Another class of sandstones are commonly
called firestones, as they endure the action of fire better than
most others. Of these the best known is the Reigate stone,
which is the principal material used at Windsor Castle,
Hampton Court, and in many old buildings round London.
Of aqueous stones classed as argillaceous, the Clunch
ous clunch. only is used in building. It may be seen in Ely and Peter¬
borough cathedrals, and many other mediaeval buildings,
and is a beautiful material for carving, but will not stand
the weather.
Chemically Of those aqueous stones, classed as chemically formed,
formed. and 0f the subdivision, the calcareous, we have none of
Travertine, note but the Travertine, or, properly speaking, Tiburtine.
This is a coarse grained stone, of warm colour, found in
large blocks, and extensively used at Rome, both in ancient
and modern buildings; the great cathedral of St Peter’s
may be cited as an instance ; but it is unknown in England.
Calcareous. Of aqueous rocks, organically derived, and of the first
subdivision, the calcareous claims our principal attention.
The chief of these are the limestones, which are generally
considered by architects as compact, magnesian, or oolitic
limestones. Of the former the best, in the south of Eng-
Chilmark. land, is that called Chilmark, of which Salisbury Cathedral
and Wilton Abbey, and many other fine buildings, have
Tottenhoe. been erected. In the midland counties the Tottenhoe
stone, of which Dunstable Priory, Woburn Abbey, Luton
church, &c., are built, is an excellent stone. There is also
a stone of high quality got near Wirksworth in Derby¬
shire, used at Chatsworth, Belvoir, Drayton Manor &c.,
Magnesian. &c. Of magnesian limestones we may name the Anstone,
Anstone. or Bolsover Moor stone, used formerly at Southwell Minster,
Tadcaster. and lately at the houses of Parliament; the Tadcaster
stones, used at York, Beverley, and Rippon Minsters, and
very many other buildings ; and the Roche Abbey, used at
the building of that name, and very many other churches
in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. These stones contain a
great deal of carbonate of magnesia, from which they take
their name, and are of beautiful texture, and stand well in
the country as building-stones; but fail in London, from a
cause which will shortly be stated.
We now come to the most important subdivision of the
limestones used in masonry—the oolitic—so called because
they resemble, when broken, a conglomerate of globular
eggs, also frequently called roe-stones, because they re¬
semble what is called the hard roe of a fish. (See art.
Geology, vol. xv., p. 146.) Very good examples of these
are the Barnack stone from Northamptonshire, of which
Peterborough Cathedral, Croyland Abbey, Burleigh House,
&c., &c., are erected. Ketton stone, used at most of the
colleges in Cambridge, and at Bury St Edmunds, Bedford,
Stamford, &c., &c. But the principal English oolites used
in masonry are the Bath and Portland. The former, as its
name imports, is found in the neighbourhood of Bath. The
chief quarries are the Box, Combe Down, Farleigh Down,
and Corsham Down; all these quarries vary in quality at
different depths. The Corsham Down is said to produce
the finest in quality, and the Box Ground stone to be the
hardest; but everything in the use of this stone depends on
the judgment in selection. Large quantities of a similar
stone are imported from Caen, in Normandy. They are
more compact in texture than Bath, and therefore fitter for
carving; but do not appear to stand the weather of our
c •mate so well. The best variety of this stone is said to
6 ^ Al?biSny stone’ Almost all these oolites can be
sawn with a common dry saw, which saves a great deal in
t ie abour of conversion. But, without doubt, the best of
Rcche
Abbey.
Oolitic
stones.
Barnack.
Ketton.
Bath.
Caen.
all this class of stones is that from the Island of Portland ; Material
for beauty of texture and for durability, it perhaps exceeds used in
any stone in the world. It seems the only stone unaffected Mas°nry.
by the smoke of London ; and therefore the greater num-
ber of its buildings, St Paul’s among the rest, are of this Portland,
stone. It must, however, be sawn by the use of sand and
water ; and, being of hard texture, is much more expensive
to work than the softer oolites. There are between fifty
and sixty quarries on the island. The best are said to be
those on the north-eastern side; but, like all stone, there
is good and bad in every quarry, and everything depends
on the selection. It is said, when Sir Christopher Wren
built St Paul’s, he had this stone quarried, and exposed
to the weather on the sea-beach for three years, before he
suffered it to be used. A very excellent limestone for
walling, especially for Gothic work, is that called Kentish Kentish
Rag. It is found in large quantities in the neighbourhood Kag-
of Maidstone, and is very hard, and worked, like granite,
with large hammers instead of the saw. Jambs, strings,
and mouldings are sometimes worked out of it, but the
hardness makes the work expensive. Of siliceous stones, Flint,
flint is sometimes used for rough walling; but in England
this work is done by the bricklayer, and not the mason.
(See Building, p. 737.)
17. I he only remaining class is that of the metamorphic^^vnor-
rocks, of which the crystalline and saccharine, and the ser- Phic rocks-
pentinous limestone are used; but these are all species of
marbles, and used more as ornamental than as constructive Marble,
building-stones, and need not be dilated upon in this article.
The Durability and Causes of Decay in Stones.
18. The causes of durability of stone, and the corre-Durability
spondent causes of failure and decay, are either chemical or of stones,
mechanical, and may be described either as decomposition
or disintegration. Durability also depends much on the
power of resistance to wear.
19. Decomposition is caused by some of the elements ofDecomposi-
the stone entering into such new combinations with water, tion.
gases, or acids as render them soluble either by the air or
water. Granite, though the hardest of building-stones, is
liable to serious decomposition when the feldpars are alka- Alkalies,
line (see art. Geology, vol. xv. p. 136), and will unite
with water or acids. Some qualities of this stone are rapidly
decomposed by the sea. The same is the case with many
of the limestones, as is described in the article above
quoted, page 151. Stones containing iron are also liable Oxides of
to decay. In its native state it is usually in a low state ofiron'
oxidation, and is liable to be acted upon by additional
quantities of oxygen or carbonic acid. This sort of decom¬
position is much increased by being alternately wet and
dry, or by frequent changes of temperature. Stones, how¬
ever, containing iron in a high state of oxidation, as rosso-
antico, porphyry, &c., do not readily become decomposed.
The most curious discovery of modern times is with re¬
gard to the magnesian limestones and dolomites. These Magnesia,
were chosen for the new Houses of Parliament on account
of their durability. The work at Southwell Minster, 800
years old, bears every mark of the tool to the present day,
and every circumstance seemed to justify its selection. It
appears, however, that magnesia has a great affinity for
sulphur; and the consequence is, the sulphurous acid which Sulphurous
is present in such quantities in the smoke of London, has acids,
already caused serious decomposition in that building, as
well as in the Lincoln’s Inn Hall. This acid has also so
much effect on the softer limestones, that the fronts of
several important buildings, Buckingham Palace among the
rest, have been obliged to be painted, to save them from decay.
20. Disintegration, as has before been said, is the separa- Disintegra-
tion of parts of stone by mechanical action. The chief cause tion.
is the freezing of minute portions of water which get into the Freezing.
STONE-MASONRY.
713
Materials pores, or fissures, or between the laminae of stones, and
used in swell slowly as crystals of ice are gradually formed, and
Masonry.^ consequently burst open the pores, or split the grain of the
" ' ^ stone. The south sides of buildings, in northern climates,
suffer more than others, as their surface becomes thawed
and filled with wet in the day, and frozen again at night,
Face- more frequently than the others. A very common error
bedded in the present day, is the not taking care to set stones with
work- their laminae, or grain, or, as the workmen call it, “bed,”
in a horizontal direction. If work be “face-bedded,” the
action of the weather will cause the laminae to scale off,
one after the other, just as the leaves of a book fall over, if
the volume be placed on its back in an upright position.
For fuller illustration of the subject of decay and decom¬
position of rocks, we must refer our readers to the article
Mineralogical Science.
Resistance 21. Resistance to wear is another obvious cause of dura-
to wear. bility ; but this depends rather on the toughness than the
mere hardness of material, a quality often attended with
brittleness, as also on its situation. The crushing weight
of Portland is about 10,000, while that of York is about
12,000, or one-fifth more; but in many situations Portland
steps will last much longer than York. Again, the crush¬
ing weight of Peterhead granite is about 18,000, or not
quite double that of Portland; whereas, if used as street¬
paving, it would outlast six sets of the latter.
Of Mortars and Cements.
History of 22. The use of some material, not only to cause stones
mortars to adhere together in building, but to fill up crevices be-
and ce- tween them, and irregularities in bedding them, is of the
remotest antiquity. The earliest mention of mortar is in
Genesis xii. 3, where the builders of the Tower of Babel
are said to have had “ slime for mortar,” which the LXX.
called dcr^aAros (bitumen) and tt^Ao's. Herodotus (Clio,
179) tells us the walls of Babylon were built of bricks,
cemented together by hot asphalt. The Egyptians used
mortar of lime and sand, almost exactly in the proportions
we do, as was proved from an analysis of some taken from
the pyramid of Cheops. The Grecian mortars and cements
are very fine and strong. Vitruvius gives careful directions
how to make mortar (lib. 2, ch. 5), and his instructions are
probably the best, and his observations the most sound, of
any author, at least till the time of the researches of Vicat
and the French chemists.
Definition. 23. Mortar is generally considered under two heads: as
common mortar, or that mixture of lime and sand ordinarily
used in building; and hydraulic mortar, or that which will
set under water. Cement is a name given to the produce
of certain argillaceous stones, after calcination, which will
set rapidly in the air, and become a hard, adhesive sub¬
stance in a short time ; and which will also set under water,
both without admixture of any other substance. The name
is also given to certain artificial imitations of these sub¬
stances, possessing the same properties; and besides, to
various bituminous, or oleaginous compositions, used in
building for similar purposes.
Lime. 24. Pure lime is an oxide of a metal called calcium, but
does not exist in a natural state. It is, however, found
abundantly in the conditions of carbonates and sub-car¬
bonates, in chalk, and the various other descriptions of lime¬
stones. Its chemical qualities and analysis will be found
under the proper heads. The first thing is to drive off the
water, which all limestones contain in a greater or less
degree, and the carbonic acid gas, which is done by calcin¬
ing or burning in a kiln at red heat, which must be kept
up for several hours, taking care, however, to avoid any
approach to vitrification. By this process it is slightly
diminished in bulk, and it loses nearly half its weight, and Materials
becomes caustic lime. used in
25. Limes are generally classed, since the publication of Masonry,
the work of Vicat, as—1. rich limes ; 2. poor limes ; 3. limes
slightly hydraulic; 4. hydraulic limes; and 5. eminently Classifica-
hydraulic limes. In treating of mortar, we have to deal t*on'
with the first two of this division.
26. The lime must next be converted into a hydrate. Production
This is done by a process called “slacking,” or throwing hydrates
water over it from time to time till it hisses and cracks
with considerable force, and some noise, gives off a large
quantity of hot vapour, and falls into a powder. The rich
limes, which are the purest oxides of calcium, increase to
double their bulk in the process. The poor limes swell to
a much less degree. The hydrates thus formed absorb
water, and easily take the form of a paste. They contain
rather less than one-third water to two-thirds lime. In this
state, if treated with pure water, frequently renewed, every
particle of rich limes, and very nearly the whole of the poor
limes, will be taken up in solution. In the process of
slacking, too much water should not be used, as it “ drowns”
the lime, according to the expression of the workmen.
When in the form of paste it begins to absorb the carbonic
acid, which, though no component part of air, is always
present in it, in large quantities ; and gradually to crystallize
again, and so to harden. If the air be excluded from the
hydrate of pure lime, it may be kept for almost any length
of time. Alberti (lib. 2, cap. 2) says that he once dis¬
covered some in an old ditch, which, from certain indica¬
tions, must have been there 500 years, and was as soft as
honey or marrow, and as fit for use as it could be.
27. I he rich limestones give a white lime, which easily Rich lime-
slacks, and increases in bulk ; but it is curious that, though stones,
the stones differ so much in outward appearance and in
texture, the lime, if they be well burned, is the same. The
softest chalk, and the hardest rag-stone, or marble, yield an
equally good lime, the calcium which they contain being
the same mineral. But as chalk generally contains water,
irregularly distributed in some places and not in others, and
as it is does not exhibit the change that marble or stone
does, it is frequently unequally burned, and therefore slacks
imperfectly. It is said, however,1 that lime, made from
chalk absorbs the carbonic acid more rapidly than that
made from stone; but our own experience does not warrant
this conclusion.
28. Poor limestones are those which contain silica, mag- Poor lime-
nesia, manganese, or metallic oxides. In consequence of8tones*
this they are more liable to vitrify in burning, and do not
slack so freely. The lime is generally of a browner colour
than that from rich limestones, which is said to be a proof
of the presence of the above-named metallic oxides. If,
however, they be ground so as to facilitate the slacking of
every particle, and if used immediately it is made up, poor
limes produce a mortar which becomes harder than that
from the rich limes, and which resists water better. In
fact, works where the latter have been used, have been
found to fail entirely by the action of running water,
which, as before has been said, will continue to remove the
whole of a rich lime, particle by particle.
29. It is found that the mixture of some kind of hard R®e of
matter in particles or granules facilitates the setting of8and*
mortar, renders it harder and more adhesive than when
used alone, besides the saving of limestone and expense of
burning. The harder this material, and the sharper the
particles the better, as the brick or stone has always some
irregularities on the surface, into which these angles or
sharp points may enter, and form what is called a key.
The substance most generally used is sand, which is gene¬
rally classed as river-sand or pit-sand. The former is
i
4 x
VOL. XX.
Higgins On Mortars and Cements, p. 29.
714
STONE-MAS ONE Y.
Other ma
terials.
Burned
clay.
Slag and
cinders.
Materials generally preferred, as it is more free from any earthy
used in matters, particularly soft loams or clay. II pit-sand be
Masonry. use[j it sh0uld be well washed. Scarcely any material is
better than crushed quartz, or flint, from the sharpness of
the angles of the particles ; in fact, it is said, that very sharp
sand, with an inferior lime, will make a more adhesive
mortar than soft sand with the best lime. For observations
on the practical mixing of mortar, see Building, p. 731.
30. Where sand is scarce, other materials may be used,
the principal and cheapest of which is burned clay. The
Romans used this extensively in the form of pounded brick.
At present the custom is to throw up clay mixed with any
fuel in loose heaps, and burn it slowly. The French writers
at one time asserted that burned clay, if not equal to pozzo-
lano, was very nearly so ; and large quantities were used
as hydraulic mortars at various public works. Where the
water was fresh, as at Strasbourg, the work stood very
well ; but where these mortars were exposed to the action
of sea-water, they failed and went to powder in three or
four years. Vicat gave great attention to the subject; and
though he attributed much of the fault to the imperfect
carbonization of the materials, it appears with but little
doubt there is some inherent difference between the pozzo-
lanos and other volcanic products, which will be treated of
shortly, and those produced artificially.1
31. The vitrified refuse of furnaces, called slag, and the
scoriae from the iron-works, have also been crushed and used
instead of sand; and with lime slightly hydraulic, produce
good mortar. The former is preferred to the latter, as
having sharper and harder particles, and containing much
less iron. Coal cinders have been used, and seem to have
some hydraulic properties ; they should, however, be em¬
ployed with caution, for it is considered they make the lime
“ short.” Wood cinders are too alkaline to be used with
safety. A very excellent mortar, much used by engineers
in tunnels, is composed of one part of moderately hydraulic
lime, one part of coal ashes, one part of burned clay, and two
parts of sharp sand.
32. The vitrified and calcined products of volcanoes make
most excellent materials for mortars, particularly where
required to be eminently hydraulic. The principal of them is
the Pozzolano, which abounds in Italy. It is called so from
being found in great abundance at Pozzuoli, near Naples,
and is, in fact, the basis of all the best Roman mortars,
ancient as well as modern. It varies in colour from reddish
brown to violet red, and is sometimes grayish. It is usually
sent to England from Civita Vecchia. It has a roughly
granulated appearance, and sometimes resembles a cinder
in texture, and has frequently a spongy appearance. Acids
have little effect on it, and it is not soluble in water. A
similar earth is found in the centre of France. But one
more familiarly known in this country comes from the
village of Brohl, near Andernach, on the Rhine ; this is
called terrass or trass. These materials have a wonderful
effect in rendering even the rich limes eminently hydraulic,
and in less proportions improving the hydraulic limes. Vicat
says, these mortars begin to set under water the first
day, grow hard in the third, and in twelve months are as
hard as the bricks themselves. The mixture of common
lime with these materials, according to the French writers,
should be 1 of pounded lime to 2£ of pozzolano, or to
2 of terrass; or 1 of lime to 1 of sand and 1 of pozzolano.
1 he analysis given by them is nearly as follows :—
Terrass. Pozzolano.
Silica, per cent  57 44
Alumina    12 15
Lime   3 8
Magnesia   1 4
Oxide of iron    5 12
Volcanic
products.
Pozzolano
and trass.
33. In addition to those which we have called hydraulic Materials
limes, there is a peculiar class of stones, which, when burned used in
and pulverized, may be used as a species of mortar, with- ^asonry’y
out admixture of sand or any similar substance ; and which
will not only set rapidly under water, but will acquire an Cements,
unusual degree of hardness and tenacity.
34. These are called natural cements. The inventor is Natural
supposed to have been a Mr Parker, at any rate that gen- 8emants*
tleman took out a patent about sixty years ago for what he
called Roman cement. His material were those argillo-
calcareous nodules, or septaria, which are found in the Isle
of Sheppey, and commonly called bald-pates. They con¬
tain about 70 per cent, of carbonate of lime, about 4 per
cent, oxide of iron, 18 per cent, of silica, and 6 or 7 per
cent, of alumina. The process is simply to break the
stones into small pieces, and burn them in running kilns
with coal or coke; they are then ground to a powder, and
headed up into casks for use. The success of Parker’s
cement led to experiments in other places, and the same
process was carried on with other argillo-calcareous nodules,
as the septaria at Hawick ; those in Yorkshire, which pro¬
duce the cement called Atkinson’s; and those in the Isle
of Wight, which produce the Medina cement. Similar
substances were also discovered, and the same processes
carried on in France and in Russia. All these cement-
stones effervesce with acids, and lose about one-third of
their weight in burning. Parker considered the more
the stones were burned short of absolute vitrification the
better; but this is not the practice in the present day,
though no doubt sound in theory. When taken from the
kiln these stones will not slack without being pulverized ;
and if kept dry, and not exposed to the air, the cement
will be good almost any length of time; but it rapidly
absorbs both water and carbonic acid if not carefully closed,
and falls back into a state of subcarbonate, from which it
is said it may be recovered by fresh burning, but it is
doubted whether it is ever so good as on the first cal¬
cination.
35. The great utility of these cements, and the expense Artificial
of obtaining the stone, induced the manufacturers to en- cements,
deavour to discover some method of making an article by
artificial means which should resemble the natural cements.
Mr Frost seems to have been the first who attempted it on
a large scale; but though assisted by the talent and science
of General Pasley, the results did not come up to the
expected standard. Of course, the object was to pro¬
duce an argillo-calcareous substance, containing the same
chemical qualities as the natural nodules, and which might
be burned in kilns as they are. The attempt to combine
argil in the form of burned clay, to be mixed with lime
instead of pozzolano, had partially failed, as has been
stated before. Our space will not allow us to relate the
various experiments by General Pasley here, nor by Yicat
at Meudon in France. They were all based on the prin¬
ciple of mixing together, in a mill, with a quantity of
water, masses of chalk and clay, just as the brickmakers
do for the production of malm bricks, but in the propor¬
tion of about four of the former to one of the latter. The
fluid mixture is run out into shallow receivers, and when
dry is cut into small blocks or lumps, and burned exactly as
the natural nodules are. The difficulty seems to have been
to give the materials the full degree of calcination short of
vitrification. This seems to have been at last attained by
the inventors of the Portland cement, so called from its Portland
near resemblance to Portland stone in its colour. It not cement,
only possesses the property of setting more quickly, and
has greater powers of cohesion than the natural cements,
but it may be used with a superabundance of water in the
1 After long investigation, Vicat was of opinion that this failure was due to the quantity of hydro-chloride of magnesia always pre¬
sent in sea-water; hut in what way this affected the burned clay and not the volcanic products, he was unable to explain.
STONE-MASONRY.
715
Principles form of grout, which they cannot; and, above all, it seems
of Stability to resist the action of sea-water beyond all others. It also
St^th ^orras a very superior cement, as is described hereafter.
, ren^ ] From a series of trials made on the Portland cement, manu-
factured by Messrs J. B. White of Millbank, it appeared it
required more than two tons to separate two blocks of
stone 6 inches cube, which had been put together with a
joint of Portland stone, one-eighth to one-fourth inch thick.
1 his gives a resistance of 146 lb. per inch of sectional area,
that of Bramley Fall being 76 lb., and Whitby stone 57 lb.
Its power to resist compression was tested on blocks 9
inches square and 18 inches long, the pressure being exerted
on their ends. Trm,
Marble
cements.
Oleaginous
cements.
Bitumin¬
ous ce¬
ments.
Roman cement, and two parts sand, bore.... 5-33 per sq. foot.
Portland do. and three do. do 44 „
Roman do. pure  v.50 „
Portland do. and two parts sand 80 „
Do. do. pure 146 „
36. A class of cements capable of taking a brilliant polish
resembling marble, and consequently very suitable for in¬
ternal decoration, had lately been invented. The chief of
these is Keene’s marble cement, and the Parian cement.
They become excessively hard in a short time, and are
capable of being painted in a few days. The principal
component part is said to be obtained by the precipitation
of alum by an alkali, which gives a white powder of great
brilliancy. It is, however, more matter for the plasterer
than the other building trades.
37. Cements made by the mixture of oil with various
substances were formerly much used both here and abroad.
The best known in England was called Hamelin’s mastic,
that in France the mastic de Dhil. These cements being
very expensive, and requiring to be constantly painted,
have now gone nearly out of use. For outside plastering
they form a very fine clean surface, as may be seen in tbe
quadrant in Regent Street.
38. The asphaltum, or mineral pitch (see Asphaltcm),
have lately come into extensive use for pavings, and for
covering the backs of arches, or rendering the walls of
basements where wet is likely to soak through. The best
is said to be that from Seyssel, in France. For their che¬
mical properties see Bitumen. It is used thus—A bed of
concrete, made of the best hydraulic lime, is first prepared,
and made fair at top by a rendering of similar mortar.
The asphalte will not dissolve with heat by itself, but will
calcine in the caldron. A small quantity of pure mineral
pitch is therefore first put in ; when hot the asphalte is
added, and soon dissolves; into this is stirred a quantity of
powdered stone-dust, and a small portion of quick-lime.
The mixture is then laid hot on the bed of concrete (which
must be quite dry), and spread close and fair, some sand
being sprinkled over the top and well trowelled in. The
best proportions are said to be about 2 pints of mineral
pitch to 10 lb. of asphalte, and one-fourth bushel of stone-
dust. A very inferior imitation is made by mixing a quan¬
tity of sharp sand with gas-tar, heated in a caldron, and
then adding some quick-lime. This may do for rendering
walls, &c., to keep out wet, but is of very little use in paving.
II.—OF THE PRINCIPLES OF STABILITY AND STRENGTH
IN MASONRY.
39. The strength and the stability of stone-work depends
partly on its mass or weight, and partly on the resistance
of the materials. And, since we cannot imagine incom¬
pressible fulcra, nor that the materials of masonry are in¬
finitely hard and inflexible, as writers on elementary me¬
chanics consider them to be, therefore, it is essential that
the resistance of materials should be considered, and the
effect of their weight allowed for in estimating the power
of the straining force.
I he resistance of stones being dependent on their state
of aggregation, and not on the hardness or density of their Principles
elementary parts, their comparative strength cannot beof Stability
judged of by these qualities; indeed there are few kinds of and
materials of which the resistance is so uncertain as that of v rengt ^
stone, and hence, it is not at all adapted for any support — v-*-
where its resistance depends on its cohesion only, unless
it be very carefully examined, and abundant strength be
allowed. The resistance of stone to compression is
less affected by its irregular nature, particularly as it
is usually employed in blocks of inconsiderable height;
and, in general, there is scarcely any reason to be sparing
of a material which it is often more expensive to reduce
than to employ in large blocks. When, however, works of
great magnitude are to be constructed, the weight of the
materials themselves forms the chief part of the straining
force; and, consequently, in such cases it becomes desirable
to form a tolerably accurate estimate of their power.
40. This power is limited by a property of bodies that
has not received that degree of attention which its import¬
ance would lead us to expect. We shall in this place make
it the basis of an investigation of the power of materials to
resist a force applied in any given direction, and show its
application to some of the cases where a mason is most
likely to need the assistance of calculation.
When any material is strained beyond a certain extent,
every time the strain is increased to the same degree, there
is a permanent derangement of the structure of the material
produced; and a frequent repetition will increase the de¬
rangement till the parts actually separate. (See the article
Carpentry.) When a small base rests upon a considerable
mass of matter, as a pier on the ground, the quantity of
derangement will increase only till the mass be compressed
to that degree which renders the increase insensible; but
in many cases a number of years will elapse before the
settlement becomes insensible.
41. The strain which produces permanent derangement
in the structure of a material
varies from one-fourth to two-
fifths of that which would de¬
stroy its direct cohesion. In
stone the lower value should
be taken, on account of its
being subject to so many de¬
fects ; and, for the present, let
this strain be denoted by/lbs.
upon a superficial foot.
42. Imagine ABCD to be
a block, fig. 1, strained either
in the direction EF or FE, B
by a force W; and let BDF
be a line drawn in the same Tig. i.
plane as the direction of the straining force, and perpen¬
dicular to the axis a b of the block. Now, if we consider
the resistance of the block to be collected at the centres
of resistance t and c, then tfF will represent a lever acted
upon by three forces; that is, the resistance at t and c, and
the straining force at F.
If the angle FE^ be denoted by a, then the effect of the force
W, reduced to a direction perpendicular to the lever, will be
expressed by cos aW. .   (l.)
Also, if T be the resistance at t, and C the resistance at c, we
shall, in the case of equilibrium, have C —T = cos aW. . . (2.)
And, by the property of the lever,
tc X T
"’cT"
= W cos a
(3.)
Hence,
tc _ 0
cF _ T
1
(4-)
43. Without stopping to notice some maxims furnished
by this equation (see the article Bridge), we will proceed
to explain the notation used in the investigation which
follows:—
716
Principles
of Stability
and
Strength.
STONE-MASONRY.
I = the length AB.
d = the depth BD, measured in the same plane as the direction
of the strain.
b = the breadth.
z = the distance of the neutral point e from the axis ah.
y = the distance of the point g from the axis ab.
p ($d — z), and p{ld + z) the respective distances of the centres
of resistance t and c from the neutral point; and, conse¬
quently,
pd = the distance, ct, between them. And,
g(%d—z), and g(%d + z) the respective distances of the centres
of gravity of the sections into which the neutral axis
divides the block, counted from the neutral point.
The leverage cF, expressed in this notation, will be
Z sin a ^ y _ Ipd + (—p)z ; consequently, equation (4) becomes
When the strain becomes transverse, or when EF is perpen- Principles
dicular to the axis, as in fig. 3,
then cos a = o, and sin ar=l,
hence ■ • • (14.)
pd
+ y- Ipd + {l-p)z
=«-l
T
of Stability
and
Strength.
(5.)
I sin a
cos a
44. Now, it has been shown, by writers on the resistance
of solids, that the resistance of any section, collected at its
centre of pressure, is equal to its cohesive force multiplied
by the distance of its centre of gravity from the neutral
axis, and divided by the distance of the point of greatest
strain from the neutral axis. (Emerson’s Mechanics, prop.
77, 4to ed.)
Accordingly we have C = _ /0 \
%d+z ' ’ * * v
And T__/%(^-0)2  
id + z  ^
_ C (^d-\“z)2
iherefore — which being substituted in equation (5),
we obtain
(3p
— 2)z2 — 2z + +lpd2 = o
(8.)
If the block be rectangular p =—, and therefore the distance
of the neutral point from the axis is
d2
12
/ Z sin a \
 (9>
45. The value of z for a rectangular section being deter¬
mined, the magnitude of the straining force is easily found,
so that it may not exceed the power of the material; for,
by the properties of the lever—
W cos a =
pdC
l sin
cos a
by equation (6), and
d*
+ 2/ + hpd + z (1 —p)
and since C =/&# (JcZ + z)
If the block be supported at
the ends, and the load be ap¬
plied in the middle of the
length, as in fig. 4, the frac¬
ture will take place at BD ; and
W in equation (14) will be
the pressure on either support,
which is obviously half the load
in the middle.
47. In any of these equa¬
tions it is perfectly imma¬
terial how the load be dis- Fis-3-
tributed, provided the line of direction be that which passes
through the centre of gravity of the mass supported, and
the weight be the whole
weight of that mass ; or,
if the strain be the com¬
bined effect of several
pressures, then the di¬
rection must be that
of the resultant of these
pressures, as determined
by the principles of me¬
chanics. (See the ar¬
ticle Carpentry.)
48. If a slab of equable thickness and width be supported along
two of its sides, as at AC, AB in fig. 5, and it be strained by a force
acting at D, in a direction per¬
pendicular to its surface, and DE
be made equal to DB, then the
fracture will take place in the
direction EBj for it may be shown,
by the principles of the maxima
and minima of quantities, that the
resistance, according to that line,
is a minimum. And since, in that
case, EB = 2 FD, we shall have,
by equation (14), W = ~
A force uniformly diffused over the surface of the slab would
fracture it in the direction CB, shown by a dotted line in the figure,
an i w be the load in pounds upon a square foot of the surface, then
ie proper values being substituted for the leverage and breadth in
equation (14),   (161
CD2 + DB2 '
The strength of a series of steps bearing upon one another, as in
the perspective sketch (fig. 6), may be determined with sufficient
12
(l sin a \
by equation (9), and J by the form of
the section, we have
W=
fhd2
(10.)
d cos a + 6Z sin a + Qy cos a
46. In particular cases this formula becomes
more simple; as, for example, when the distance
of the point g from the axis ab is o, that is, when
V = o,
W =   (11.)
d cos a+ 61 sin a '
In a column or pillar the section of greatest
strain will be at the middle of the length, as at
BD in fig. 2; and the direction EF of the
straining force is usually parallel to the axis;
and then sin a~o, and cos a = 1, and there¬
fore,
W=-/^L .   (12.)
d -f- ^ ^
Fig. 2.
When the direction of the straining force co¬
incides with the axis, or when y =. o, the strain
on a column or pillar is expressed by the equation W =fbd (13.)
Ihese equations apply also to tensile forces.
Fig. 6.
accuracy by the last equation, supposing the depth to be the mean
vertical depth of any one step; as, for example, taken at GH in
fig. 7, the figure showing the ends of the steps.
49. The case to which equation (14) applies, affords the
most convenient, as well as the most accurate, means of
determining the value of f for any material; and, suppos-
STONE-MASONRY.
717
Principles ing it to be one-fourth of the absolute cohesion (§ 34), the
of stability last column of the following table of experiments gives its
and
Strength.
value for various stones, mortars, &c., in the nearest simple
numbers under the calculated value :—
one end appear to have been injured in fixing, and only a Principles
calculated result is given for the other specimens supported of Stability
at both ends. As to this, see the article on the Strength and
of Materials. Strength.
50. Several experiments have also been made, with the ^ v
intention of measuring the direct resistance to extension or
compression; but theory indicates so nice an adjustment
of the direction of the straining force as necessary in these
experiments, that the reader may expect the results to differ
as widely amongst themselves as they are found to differ
from theoretical calculation.
The experiments, Nos. 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7, are extracted
from Rondelet’s VArt de Bdtir (tome i. p. 312). Nos. 1
and 2 are by Gauthey (Rozier’s Journal de Physique, tome
iv. p. 414.)
Table I. Experiments on the Transverse Strength of Stones, &jc., to the Case
Equation (14).
No. of
Expts.
Substance tried.
Weight
of a
Cubic
Foot.
Length,;.
Depth, d.
Breadth,
b.
Break¬
ing
Weight.
Values of
f=i of the
absolute
Strength of
a Sq. Foot,
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Statuary marble  169-12
Dundee stone..
Portland stone
Craigleith white sandstone 
White sandstone from Hailes 1
Quarry J
White sandstone from Longannet
Bath stone 
Red porphyry   
Welsh roof slate 
Scotch roof slate   
Common brick, new 
>> old  
Best stock brick  
Mortar from an old castle in 1
Sussex  J
Mortar, common 
Mortar in the joints of two )
inch cubes of stone, one l
month after being joined J
163-80
132
147-6
134-8
138-25
15
7-5
7
7
21
12
6
15
7
9
4-5
3-5
2-75
2-5
6
6
4
4
4
3
0-75
pou.
8
1-075
1-08
1075
1-5
1-5
1-45
1-55
1-25
1-55
1-5
1-525
1-45
1- 55
1
0-4
0-25
0-25
2- 5
2-5
2-5
0-35
pou.
2
1-075
1-05
1075
1- 45
2
2
2- 07
1-2
1-55
1-55
1-45
1-525
1-55
1
1
1*
n
4
4
4
1 *
1 a
pou.
2
lb.
25
55
65
207
28
50
135
30
68-5
61-5
46
80
116-5
29
60
30
25
201-5
171-5
222
18-5
11-5
lir.
6-75
lb.
65,000
73,000
78,000
95,000
28,000
30,000
35,000
26,000
26,000
26,000
26,000
23,000
24,000
17,000
101,000
414,000
345,000
6.900
5.900
7,600
12,000
9,300
1,400
Numbers 18, 19, and 20 are from Barlow’s Essay on the
Strength of Timber (p. 250), each being a mean of three
trials. Number 23 is from Rondelet’s Traite de VArt de
Bdtir (tome iii. p. 377), lowest result; the rest of the ex¬
periments were made by the writer of this article.
We have not here availed ourselves of the experiments
of Gauthey (Rozier’s Journal de Physique, tome iv.) on the
transverse strength of stones ; because those he fixed at
51. In the resistance to actual
fracture, from a compressive force,
the joint effect of cohesion and
friction is concerned, and, there¬
fore, a much greater force is re¬
quired to crush than to tear
asunder the same quantity of ma¬
terial. The resistance to fracture
might be investigated on prin¬
ciples analogous to those we in¬
tend to employ in determining
the pressure of earth against re¬
taining walls, &c. (See the article
Carpentry.) But we conceive
that it is neither prudent, nor
useful, nor necessary, to load the
parts of a structure beyond that
limit we have made the basis of
our investigation. (See § 34.)
Rondelet has observed, that the
load under which a stone began to
split was nearly always two-thirds
of that which crushed it; but that
stone of some kinds began to split
with half the load that crushed it
(EArt de Bdtir, iii. 86 et 101).
The value of f should, therefore,
not exceed one-fourth of the force
which splits stone ; and, supposing
the splitting force to be always
half the crushing one, we shall
have /= one-eighth of the crush¬
ing force.
52. In this, as in the preceding tables, the reader will
observe, that the results of all experiments are given in the
original weights and measures; but that the value off and
the weight of a cubic foot are in English pounds avoirdu¬
pois, and for an English foot.
The foreign weights and mea¬
sures are distinguished by
their foreign names.
The experiments, Nos. 1,
21, 22, and 36, were made
by Gauthey (Rozier, Journal
de Physique, tome iv. p. 406).
Those numbered 3, 4, 5, 8,
9, 11 to 20, 30, 31, 32, 34,
37, 38, and 39, were made
by Mr George Rennie {Phi¬
losophical Transactionsforthe
year 1818). The others were
made by Rondelet {Traite de
FArt de Bdtir, tome i. and
tome iii.) We have selected those which will be most
useful, with others of a more interesting and curious
nature ; such are Rondelet’s experiments on the effect of
Table II.—Experiments on the Direct Resistance of Stones, §c., to the Case
Equation (13).
No. of
Expts.
Substance tried.
Hard stone of Givry 
Tender stone of Givry 
Mortar of sand and lime sixteen years old 
Plaster of Paris 
Adhesion of mortar to lias stone, joined six months
Adhesion of mortar to brick, joined six months 
Adhesion of mortar to tile, joined six months 
Weight of
a Cubic
Foot.
147 lb.
130 „
Area of
Specimen.
96 lines
324 „
1 ponce
1 „
4 „
4 „
4
Weight that
pulled it
Asunder.
164 livres
183 „
53 „
76 „
64 „
138 „
141
Value of
/=i of the
absolute
Strength
of a Square
Foot.
8.400 lb.
1.400 „
1,800 „
2,500 „
547 „
1,180 „
1,200 „
718
STONE-MASONRY.
Principles beating mortar, the strength and
of Stability density 0f ancient mortar, and
and j-jjg resistance of stones used in
reng • ancient and in modern struc-
Actual
load put
on stone in
practice.
tures.
53. It was observed by M.
Rondelet, in the course of his
very numerous experiments, that
it was not the heaviest stones
which offered the greatest de¬
gree of resistance to compres¬
sion, but those of a fine even
grain and close texture, with
a deep colour ; that of granites,
the most compact and perfectly
crystallized was the strongest
{LArt de Bdtir, tom. i. 213,
215); and that, when all other
qualities were the same, the
strength was in proportion to
some function of the specific
gravity.
The writers who have contri¬
buted to our experimental know¬
ledge of the strength of stones
are not numerous. The chief
are Emerson, in his Mechanics,
4to ed., p. 115 ; Gauthey, in his
Memoire sur la Charge que
peuvent porter les Pierres in
Rozier’s Journal de Physique,
tome iv., 1774, and in his Con¬
struction des Fonts, tome i., p.
267 ; Coulomb, in his Memoires
presentes a, VAcademic, 1773;
Rondelet, in his Traite de VArt
de Bdtir, tome i. et iii. (the
latter volume contains the ex¬
periments made by Perronetand
Soufflot) ; Rennie, in the Philos¬
ophical Transactions for 1818,
or Philosophical Magazine, vol.
liii.; and Tredgold, in the Phi¬
losophical Magazine, vol. Ivi., p.
290.
54. The last column in each
of the three tables of experi¬
ments shows the greatest load
that we suppose should be borne
by a superficial foot of the dif-
erent kinds of stone contained
in those tables. We now pro¬
pose to give the results of some
calculations respecting the ex¬
tent to which stone has in prac¬
tice been loaded,
No. of
Expts.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
Table III.—Experiments on the Resistance to Crushing.
Substance Tried.
Porphyry.
Granite, Aberdeen blue 
„ Peterhead, hard and close grained
„ Cornish 
„ gray  
„ rose oriental 
Marble, white statuary  
Weight of
a Cubic
Foot.
lb.
179-44
174-9
164-06
„ veined white, Italian 
„ variegated red, Devonshire
Dundee stone 
Craigleith stone, with strata 
Bramley Fall sandstone near Leeds
with the strata  
Portland stone 
Culello white sandstone 
Yorkshire paving stone  
Hard stone of Givry 
Tender stone of Givry 
Saillancourt stone arches of bridge of)
Neuilly  J
Fourneaux stone pillars of All Saints at l
Angers  J
Bagneux stone pillars of the Pantheon 1
at Paris   J
Stone bridge of St Maxence 
Caserte stone, in Italy 
Stone of temples at Paestum 
Travertino, ancient buildings at Rome 
Derbyshire grit, a friable red sandstone...
,, „ from another quarry 
Roe stone, Gloucestershire 
Tufa, from Rome 
Chalk 
Pumice-stone  
Brick, hard and well burned 
„ pale red 
,, red, mean of two trials 
„ Stourbridge fire 
Mortar of lime and sand 18 months old ...
„ ,, 16 years old 
„ „ not beaten 18 1
months old  J
Mortar of lime and pit-sand, 18 months old
„ beaten together, 18 months old .
„ of lime and pounded tiles, 18
months old 
„ beaten together, 18 months old..
„ „ 16 years old  
„ from an ancient wall at Rome ..
„ from the Pont du Gard 
Lastrico, brought from Naples 
The foreign
ones are reduced to our own weights and measures, and the
whole stated in round numbers.
The pillars of the Gothic church of All-Saints at Angers,
of the stone, No. 24, Table III., support on each superficial
foot a pressure of 86,000 lb.1 The pillars of the dome of
the Pantheon at Paris, the lower part of which are of Bag¬
neux stone (No. 2151, Table III.), support on each super¬
ficial foot 60,000 lb.2 The pillar in the centre of the
chapter-house at Elgin, which is of red sandstone, supports
on each superficial foot 40,000 lb.3 The piers which sup-
166-37
171- 06
166-32
172- 5
168.37
170-37
158.12
153-25
156-62
151-43
151-43
156-68
147-31
129-43
141.31
160-68
137-12
156-25
169-87
140-87
147-37
144-75
151-75
76-00
37-81
97-31
130-31
135-5
118-31
101-56
99-25
118-93
91-06
103-93
89-37
93-75
62-5
Area of
Specimen.
20 lines
4 pouces
2-26 inch.
2-25 „
2-25 „
4 pouces
4 „
2-25 inch.
1
4 pouces
2-25 inch.
2-25 „
2-25
2-25
2-25
2-25
2-25 „
4
2-25 „
2-25 „
324 lines
576 „
4 pouces
25 centim.
4 pouces
4 „
4 „
4 „
2-25 inch.
2-25 „
2-25 „
4 pouces
2-25 inch.
4 pouces
378 lines
2-25 inch
2-25 „
2-25 „
4 pouces
4 „
Weight that
Crushed it.
Value of
/=! of the
Crushing
Force for
a Square
Foot.
5,208 livres
119,808 „
24,556 lb.
18,636 „
14,302 „
39,168 livres
52,704 „
13,632 „
3,216 „
19,584 „
21,783 lb.
16,172 „
14,918 „
15,550 „
12,346 „
13,632
10,284 „
14,918 „
10,264 „
12,856 „
11,208 livres
5,880 „
7,280
62,600
6,125 kilog.
23,380 livres
36,142 „
13,720 „
18,112 „
7,070 lb.
9,776 „
1,449 „
3,520 „
1,127 „
2,100 „
5,280 „
1,265 „
1,817 „
3.864 „
2,552 livres
2.864 „
1,866
2,475
3,420
2,896
3,970
4,948
4,248
3,090
4,664
lb.
640,000
500,000
196,000
149,000
114,000
165,000
220,000
109,000
57,000
83,000
174,000
129,000
119,000
124,000
98,000
109,000
82,000
67,000
82,000
102,000
85,000
25,000
30,000
110,000
62,000
97,000
150,000
58,000
77,000
56,000
78,000
11.500
15,000
9,000
8.900
34,000
10,100
14.500
30.900
10.900
12,000
7.900
10,600
14,600
12,300
16,900
21,000
18,000
13,000
19,400
Principles
of Stability
and
Strength.
port the dome of St Paul’s in London sustain a pressure on
each superficial foot of 39,000 lb.2 The piers which sup¬
port the dome of St Peter’s at Rome sustain a pressure on
each superficial foot of 33,000 lb.2 The pressure on the
key-stone (No. 23, Table III.) of the Bridge of Neuilly
has been estimated for each superficial foot at 18,000 lb.4
In regard to these examples we have to remark that the calculators
of them have considered the pressures as uniformly distributed
over the pressed surface ; but this can only be true when the
direction of the resultant of the straining force coincides with the
axis of the pier or pillar; besides, stones cannot be wrought
absolutely level, nor bedded in perfect contact. From these cir¬
cumstances, the strength of piers, columns, pillars, and arch-stones,
1 Gauthey, Rozier’s Journal de Physique, tom. iv., p. 409; and Construction des Fonts, tom. i., p. 273.
2 Rondelet, L'Art de h&tir, tom. iii., p. 74. 3 Telford, Edinburgh Encyclopaedia, Art. “ Bridge,” p. 505.
4 Gauthey, Construction des Fonts, tom. i., p. 260.
STONE-MASONRY.
Principles should be estimated by equation (12), and when the line of direc-
of Stability tion falls within the pier, always making y=:half the least dimen-
and sion °f the section, an allowance which will include the effect of
Strength, the greatest possible inequality of action. We shall, in that case.
r ^ v have
/M2 fbd
d+ Q£~ 4 “  (17.)
2
If the pressure on the Bagneux stone in the piers of the dome
of the Pantheon at Paris be estimated by this formula, it will be
found that it is sufficient to split the stones, and this has actually
happened.1
55. I he chief elements of the theory of arches have
already been given in the article Bridge (sect, ii.), to
which we refer the reader, at the same time expressing a
hope that the excellent article referred to will be useful in
correcting some absurd notions respecting catenarian and
other curves, which are too commonly entertained. The
conical support of the lantern of St Paul’s is a fine example
of an appropriate form, whilst the catenarian dome of the
French Pantheon exemplifies a scientific blunder of the
first magnitude.2
1 he principles of domes, of groins, and of vaulting of
every kind, are the same as those of arches, excepting that
each kind has its peculiar manner of distributing the load
on the different parts. See prop. M and N, art. Bridge.
It (F + tan a)
sec a
Hence, in the case of equilibrium,
W(l —F tan a) R (F + tan a)
sec a sec a
— F tan a
(19.)
719
Principles
of Stability
and
Strength.
Or, R==W^1~FtaDg>\
y F + tan a /
(20.)
Principles
of arches,
domes, &c.
Pressure
of earth
against
walls.
Of the pressure of Earth, Fluids, fyc., against walls.
56. When a high bank of earth, or a fluid, is to be sus¬
tained by a wall, as it is often necessary to do in forming
bridges, locks, quays, reservoirs, docks, and military works,
the construction is very expensive, however economical the
means employed may be ; hence it is desirable to devote
some space to an object of which the importance is
manifest.
Let EC, fig. 8, be the line according to which the earth would
Fig. 8.
separate, if the wall were to yield in a small degree; then AEG
will represent the section of the prism of earth, the pressure of
which causes the wall to yield.
Put W = the weight of the prism AEG, when its length is unity.
R = the resistance of the wall, when its length is unity.
a — the angle ECa, which the plane of fracture makes with
a vertical line. ,
c = the angle ACa, which the back of the wall makes with
a vertical line.
F = the friction of the earth when the pressure is unity.
h = the vertical height of the wall a G in feet,
and S = the weight of a cubic foot of earth, water, or other mat¬
ter to be supported.
If g be the centre of gravity of the prism of earth, the triangles
rppr, Ca E, being similar, the effort of the prism to slide in the
direction EC, reduced for the friction, will be
 W (1 — F tan a)
sec a
57. But, in the case now considered the radius being unity,
" — I tan « —tan c 1 Therefore, R =
[*"(tan a—tan c) x (1—F tan a)~|   (21.)
2 [_ F + tan a ^
And, from the state of the variable quantities in this equation,
it is obvious that it has a maximum value, which determines the
angle of fracture. By the principles of maxima and minima, the
maximum pressure takes place when
tan a = — F + ^1 + p tan c + -^-^+F2^ (22.)
If the angle which the plane of repose (Bridge) makes with a
vertical plane be denoted by t, then
1
tan i
—_l + (tan c tan 3* +tan 2i +tan c tan t+1) } (23.)
tan i
If the back of the wall be vertical, tan c = o, and then this
equation reduces to the simple form, which Prony obtained, of tan
a — tan  (24.)
58. When we substitute in equation (21) the value of the
tan a, which has been found in equation (23), it becomes R =
A2S f 2
- < tan i+tan C + -
* l
F =
and tan a ■
tan c tan i+
tan i
tan c +1
tan i
.,)*)
(25.)
2 tan i
-2(
And when the back of the wall is vertical, it becomes
h2S
R = -j-(tan2^i) (26.)
The tan i being the co-tangent of the angle of repose, if the mat¬
ter to be supported be of so fluid a nature that it naturally
assumes a sensibly level surface when at rest, the tan becomes
equal to unity, and consequently,
R = ^ (27.)
The same result may be obtained from the common principles of
hydrostatics in the case of fluids.
Since the only variable quantity which enters into the calcula¬
tion of the distance of the centre of pressure is the height A,
whatever the nature of the supported material may be; therefore
that distance counted from the base will always be ^A, as in the
pressure of fluids.
59. Table IV.—Table of Constant Quantities necessary
for calculating the Pressure of some Materials.
Substance.
Water 
Fine dry sand ...
Do. moist  
Quartz sand (dry)
Angle Weight of
of a Cubic
Repose. I Foot=S
0°
33°
35°
62-5 lb
92 „
119 „
102 „
Value of R in
Equation (26).
R—31JA2
Rr=13'8/t2
R=17-85A2
R = 1377A2
Value of R in
Equa. (25) when
c = 10°.
R=31|A2
R=4-8A2
R=6-2A2
R=4-64A2
(18.)
This effort is to be opposed by the resistance of the wall, which
let us suppose to be collected at c, the centre of pressure, and,
ieducing to the direction CE, the effect of friction being allowed
lor, it becomes
In sand, clay, and earthy bodies, the natural slopes should
be taken when the material is dry, and the clay and earth
pulverised. When any of these bodies are in a moist state,
the parts cohere, and the angle of repose is greater, though
the friction be actually le&8. The preceding table shows
that the pressure of water is greater than that of any of the
other kinds of matter, and from the nature of fluids it is
evident, that if water be suffered to collect behind a retain¬
ing wall, calculated to sustain common earth only, it will
1 Gauthey, Construction des Fonts, tom. i,, p. 273.
TraUi rArfglCSv4iiab308q)e deVait P°rter ^ S°n * d®termin6 * choisir Pour la courbe de son ceintre la chainetu.
720
STONE-MASONRY.
Principles most likely be overturned. Such accidents may be pre-
of stability vente(i by making c
g. and *». proper drains. —J1
F 60. The preced- ^
ing analysis will ap-
ply, without sensible
error to the curved
walls which have 1
lately become fash¬
ionable. Fig. 9 is
a section of one of
these walls, as exe¬
cuted from a design
by Rennie. The ver¬
tical height, AB, 21
feet; the wall of uni¬
form thickness, with
counterforts 15 feet
apart; and the front
of the walls described
by a 69 feet radius,
with the centre in
the horizontal line DA produced. The wall is built of
brick, and the uniform part is To feet thick. The radius
is usually thrice the vertical height of the wall; when this
proportion is adhered to, the angle c will be ten degrees, for
which the value of R is calculated in the table.
Fig. 9.
Resistance
of walls.
Fig. 10.
quently, = tan a 
Which determines its direction, and its intensity is
W = — 
cos a
But, we have found,
If the section of the wall be a parallelogram, then A = hd, and Principles
— tan c — y, these values of A and y being substituted in equa. of Stability
(30), it becomes —wM2+/d2+3A2M/d tan c = 2RA. . . . (31.) and
„ , h2«/ ( —3 tan c t V2Et(/-W) Strength.
0r’d=j=rw\-^—+—w—
Resistance of Walls.
61. In the first place, we propose to investigate the re¬
sistance a wall offers to being overturned ; and, in so doing,
it appears desirable that the resistance of the mortar in the
ioints should be considered one of the elements of the
strength of the wall. Good mortar adds much to the firm¬
ness of walls, aud still more to their durability, and, all
things considered, its first cost is less than that of bad; be¬
sides, the resistance of mortar to compression must be con¬
sidered, for, in practice, we have no perfectly hard arrises
to fulfil the conditions of common mechanical hypotheses.
Put A = the area of the wall.
w = the weight of a cubic foot of masonry.
y — the horizontal distance, g a, between the vertical pass¬
ing through the centre of gravity of the wall, and the point where
the axis cuts the plane of  A }
fracture, the same notation
being applied to the other
quantities as in the fore¬
going equations.
Let G, fig. 10, be the
centre of gravity of the
wall; and on the vertical
set off g\, the height of
the centre of pressure;
also, let IK represent A X
w — the weight of the wall,
and HI the force R of the
earth.
Then, completing the
parallelogram, El will re¬
present the direction and intensity of the straining force; conse-
R
W =
fbd2
d cos a + 6Z sin a + 6y cos a
; and as W =
Aw
cos
9 tan 2c ’
4 / (32.)
When the section of the wall is a rectangle y=o, therefore equa.
(31) reduces to
21U
/— kw
 (33.)
This last equation is also correct for a wall of which the back is
vertical, and the front sloping. We suppress the investigation, to
afford the young student an opportunity of proving that the dimi¬
nution of weight is exactly counterbalanced by the alteration of
the distance of the centre of gravity from the axis.
The tendency of a wall to slide forward may be easily prevented,
by giving an inclination to the joints.
62. To illustrate these rules we shall give two examples,
and in these show the construction of a table, which the
reader may enlarge at his pleasure.
Example I. Let it be required to determine the thickness of a
rectangular wall for supporting the front of a wharf 10 feet in
height, the earth being a loose sand, and the wall to be built of
brick.
The weight of a cubic foot of brick-work may be estimated at
100 lbs., and the resistance of mortar being valued at 5000 lbs.
per superficial foot, the experimental value being 7900 lbs., Table
III., Experiment 42, and the difference an allowance for any irre¬
gularity in building, consequently, /=5000; w = 100 ; and by
Table IV., R= 13-8A2; hence equa.
(33)
y
/ 2RA /
’d=v 7^r=v
2 X 13-8 x As
5000 - 100A
A3
181-3-62A’
When A = 10 feet, then the thickness of the wall
d = 2-644 feet. If A be made successively 10, 20, 30, 40, &c., feet,
the numbers under the head of dry sand in the following table
will be obtained, observing that they are only calculated to the
nearest tenth of a foot.
The proper thickness being found for supporting one kind of
material, that for any other may be easily determined ; as the thick¬
ness varies as the square root of R, equa. (33). Let the thickness
for dry sand be d, then
flFsT::d\ l‘5d the thickness for supporting water.
^13-8 : yi7-85 :: d l-14d the thickness for supporting moist sand.
In this manner, by means of Table IV. the thicknesses for other
kinds are easily calculated.
Example II. If a retaining wall be intended to support a sandy
and loose kind of earth, to be constructed of brick, and to be in¬
clined 10 degrees from the vertical, the thickness being uniform;
it is required to determine that thickness for any given height.
, , h2w ( 3 tan c ,
By equa. (32), d = —  +
V,21t (f —hw) /3 tan c.\2
A3w2
3 tan c.
/3 tan c.\ 2 \
(—) )■
and as e = 10°, tan c =-18, hence
= •27, and its square =-0729. Also/= 5000, and —
(28.)
(29.)
100, consequently, d =
A2
50 —A
(-•27+V
2rc(’5~'0^L -P0729
)
A2
(\ Ti
equa. (29.) 1 ; tan a — ; equa. (28.); I = JA, art. 51;
and b = unity; the equath n reduces to fd2 — Adw — 6 Awy —
2RA (30.)
A3
For sandy earth R = 4’8A2, therefore d —
(-•27 hV —'0113^ ; and making A successively 10, 20,
&c., feet, the numbers obtained will be the same within one-tenth
of a foot, as those in the following Table, column fifth, in which
the thickness of leaning and curved walls for supporting dry sand
is shown, at an inclination of 10 degrees.
STONE-MASONRY.
Founda- 63. Table V.—A Table of the Thicknesses for Retaining
tions. Walls, Revetments, Dock-walls, dkc.
721
Height of
Wall.
10 feet
20
30
40
Thickness of Rectangular Walls
to support.
Water. Dry Sand. Moist Sand
4'0 feet
12-9
29-2
62-5
2-7 feet
8 6
19-4
417
3-l feet
9-8
22-2
47-5
nine
Thickness of Leanin
and Curved Walls
for supporting Dry
Sand, the angle of
inclination being 10®
1-1 feet
28
6-2
92
Construc¬
tion of
walls.
Founda¬
tions.
Depth of
footings.
Our investigation informs us that the mortar of high walls
must be of a superior strength ; indeed, we know that when
its consolidation takes place, under considerable pressure, it
is of much greater strength. According to what function
of the pressure the strength increases, we have not experi¬
ments to determine, and we therefore point out the circum¬
stance to the notice of experimental inquirers.
For further particulars as to construction of walls, par¬
ticularly of railway embankments, see article Construc¬
tion.
64. The proper quantity of mortar to be employed in
stone-work is another point to which it will be useful to
direct the mason’s attention. A stone cannot be very firmly
bedded upon a very thin layer of mortar; and if the stone
be of an absorbent nature, the mortar will dry too rapidly to
acquire any tolerable degree of hardness (Vitruvius, lib. ii.,
cap. viii.), however well it may have been prepared. On
the other hand, if the bed of mortar be thicker than is neces¬
sary to bed the stone firmly, the work will be a long time
in settling, and will never be perfectly stable.
When the internal part of a wall is built with fragments
of stone, they should be closely packed together, so as to
require as little mortar as possible. Walls are often bulged
by the hydrostatic pressure of mortar, when it is too plenti¬
fully thrown into the interior, to save the labour of filling
the spaces with stones.
The walls of houses are frequently built with hewn stone
on the outside, and rubble stone on the inside. The settle¬
ment of these two kinds of stone-work during the setting
of the mortar are so different, that the walls often separate ;
or where this separation is prevented by bond stones, the
wall bulges outwards, and bears unequally on its base. These
evils are best prevented by using as little mortar as possible
in the joints of the interior part of the wall, and not raising
the wall to a great height at one time.
HI.—OF FOUNDATIONS.
On Land.
65. Having considered the nature of the materials to be
used, and the scientific principles on which we should pro¬
ceed in their disposition, we must turn to practical results,
and first consider the foundations, or the base, upon which
these superstructures are to be placed, so as to stand safely.
When a good hard soil is easily accessible, as solid gravel,
chalk, or rock, we have nothing to do but to excavate the
surface mould to the sound bottom, and to build at once,
Footings, first putting in the footings, which are one or more courses,
forming a sort of steps, each a little wider than the other,
and the wall that stands on them (see Building, PI. 147,
fig* 5), according to the judgment of the architect. On hard
ground one course of masonry, about half as wide again as
the superincumbent wall, is ample. On softer ground it
was usual to employ footings at least double the width of
the wall, and frequently more; but since the invention, or
rather revival, of the use of concrete, this is seldom or
never done. In this case, or when the ground is a deep
clay, be the material used what it may, it should at least
go so deep as not to be affected by change of temperature,
VOL. xx
or the rising and falling of springs, as the alternate shrink- Founda-
ing and swelling of the ground must affect the building, tions.
As has been shown (article Climate, p. 768), frost seldom
penetrates afoot into the ground in this country; but in
clay soils, fissures, the consequences of drought, are found
three feet and more in depth. The basis should, therefore,
be below this point in such a stratum. If the ground be
springy, it should be drained, if possible; if not, a founda¬
tion should be made with concrete as low as the lowest
level of the water; or if very deep or boggy, piles must be
used. The plan of building on sleepers and planking, so
common a few years ago, is very bad, as they soon rot, and
the building settles in all directions, as the greater weights
crush the decayed timbers sooner than the lighter portions
of the building. Where ground is alternately wet and dry,
the best timber soon decays; even piles should always be
wholly below the water.
66. The use of concrete, except in very peculiar occa- Definition
sions, has entirely superseded every other artificial founda- 0f con-
tion. It may be defined as a sort of rough masonry, com- crete.
posed of broken pieces of stone or gravel, not laid by hand,
but thrown at random into the trenches, cemented together
with lime prepared in various ways, and thoroughly mixed
with it before it is so thrown in. In this country, the lime
is generally ground and mixed, when hot, with the stones;
in France, the lime is first made into a paste, and the mix¬
ture is then called beton, not concrete.
67. The use of this material is of very remote antiquity. History of
It is no doubt the signinum opus of Vitruvius, and is de- concrete,
scribed by Alberti. It is very common in mediaeval buildings,
walls and even arches frequently being made of it. In Ro¬
chester castle the staircases are composed of it; the under
sides, or soffites, show to this day the marks of the boards .
which sustained it till it was set. Smeaton states that he
was induced to employ it from the observation of the ruins
of Corfe castle. Dance employed a sort of concrete in re¬
building Newgate, 1770-1778. The foundation of part of
the new structure was a deep bog, and it was rendered
available by shooting a quantity of broken bricks into the
holes, mixed with occasional loads of mortar, in the propor¬
tions of four to one, and suffering them to find their bed.
68. Any hard substance, broken into small pieces, will Materials
make good concrete. That most used is gravel, or ballast, of con-
This should not be sifted too fine, as the sand which is left crete.
will mix with the lime, and form a sort of mortar, and assist
to cement the stones together (see I., sec. 29). If broken
stones, or masons’ chips, are used, it is well to mix some
sharp sand with them. The general rule is, that no piece
should exceed a hen’s egg in size. In this country the lime
is generally ground, and used hot. It is mixed with the
ballast by scattering it among the stones, and turning them
over with a shovel, water being at the same time thrown
upon the mass. It is then immediately filled into the Laying
trenches, sometimes by shooting from stages erected for the concrete,
purpose, six or eight feet above the work. But this process
has been very justly censured as uncertain by eminent en¬
gineers, who prefer to put it in layers of not more than 1
foot in thickness, and to level each course, and ram it down
thoroughly. About one-sixth part of lime is generally
used. When too hastily put into the trenches, the lime, Swelling of
which has not had time thoroughly to be slacked, will con- concrete,
tinue to do so, and the mass will puff or swell, and some¬
times cause considerable mischief. The author has seen
the wing walls of bridges thrust out by this means. From
some experiments made by the Architectural Publication
Society, where the materials were carefully mixed, no
change took place in the bulk. The lime, if it can be pro¬
cured, should be hydraulic; and concrete is much improved
by the addition of the volcanic sands. The French authors
recommend, as good proportions, one-fifth hydraulic lime,
one-fourth pozzolano, one-eighth sharp sand, and the rest
4 Y
722
STONE-MASONRY.
broken stone or gravel; or 20 per cent, hydraulic lime,
the same of terrass, the same of sharp sand, 15 per cent, of
gravel, and 25 per cent, of broken stone. Perhaps, after
all, the very best concrete is made of a simple mixture of
gravel with Portland cement.
Foundations in Water—Ancient Systems.
Loose 69. These are often made by shooting quantities of loose
stones shot rGUgh stones, &c., into water, at hazard, till the mass finds
in‘ its own bottom, and becomes solid by degrees. When a
sufficient quantity has been shot, so as to appear above the
surface, the material is levelled, and the superstructure
erected upon it. Most of the break-waters (see Art.) have
been thus constructed. This method is called by the
French, foundations d pierre perdue ( see Breakwater,
Harbour, &c.) Concrete has been used in the same way
with great success. Where it is practicable, it is very de¬
sirable first to bring the bottom to a level by dredging.
(See Navigation, Inland, p. 68.)
Piling. 70. Another method is to drive a number of piles, side
by side, through the mud or other soft soil till they reach a
sound bottom, the beads are then cut off to a level, and a
platform of timber, or better still, of flat stones, is laid on
them, and the superstructure erected. The heads of the
piles should always be under water. For small operations
they may be driven without dams; but for larger a more
elaborate system must be pursued, the most effectual of
which are coffer-dams.
damT' ^ ^ese are as great antiquity as the time of Vitru¬
vius, and most probably much older. That author, how¬
ever (lib.5, cap. u/t.), describes the method of forming them,
and calls them arcce. Like those of later times, they were
composed of two parallel rows of piles driven into the water,
and kept together by strong horizontal timbers, and con¬
tinued around the place where the proposed work is to be
erected, so as to form a sort of box or coffer entirely round
it. The two rows are kept in their places by other timbers,
and the vacant space between such double row stuffed full
of clay and weeds, till the whole is quite tight, the water is
then pumped out by proper engines till the ground appears,
which is then levelled and excavated to a solid stratum, if
such is readily accessible. The foundations of the pier, &c.,
are then laid, and the superstructure carried up to above
the water-level, when the dam is removed. If solid ground
is not easily accessible, structural piling is resorted to. In
large works these are of whole timber, pointed at the end,
and shod with iron, to facilitate their penetrating the earth.
Pile- They are driven by a weight called a monkey, which is
engine. raised by a machine called a pile-engine, worked by horse
or other power, now frequently by steam. When the mon¬
key is raised to a sufficient height, it is suddenly liberated
by a contrivance much like a double pair of scissors, and
falls with great impetus on the head of the pile, and of
course forces it downward into the bed of the stream.
When driven to a proper depth, the heads are cut off to a
level line, cross timbers are bolted on these, and the super¬
structure erected, as shown in Bridge (Plate CXLV.fig. 3.)
The piles of the dam should not be drawn, as that would
allow' the water to form holes, and to work under the foun¬
dations, but they should be cut off close to the bottom of
the stream. Fig. 11 shows a plan of the coffer-dam and pier
o/ a bridge erected by Rennie on the Thames. The outer
lines are the parallel piles which keep out the water, and
form the coffer; these, as will be seen, are strongly bolted
together, both across and lengthwise, and also braced dia¬
gonally. The general plan is elliptical, the better to resist
the pressure of the water,—a course afterwards adopted in
the coffer-dams of London Bridge. The plan of the pier is
within this, and is shown in four quarters:—A shows the
plan of the great piles, driven down to the solid; B shows
the heads of the same piles, when cut off and tied together
by strong cross timbers ; C shows the planking laid thereon ;
and D the first courses of the masonry.
Founda¬
tions.
72. As the system above described is extremely expen- Caissons,
sive, especially before the introduction of steam-power for
pumping, &c., a very ingenious method was introduced
into this country by a Swiss named Labelye, and first used
at Westminster Bridge. The bed of the stream was first
carefully levelled by dredging. (See Navigation, In¬
land, page 68.) Strong frames of timber were then con¬
structed, having upright sides like those of a box, and being
about the same area as a cofter-dam. These w'ere floated
over the place where the piers were to be built, and the
masonry of each pier commenced inside these large cases
(the word caisson meaning a large box or caisse). It was,
in fact, like building in the bottom of a large flat-bottomed
barge. Of course, as the weight increased this barge or
caisson would gradually sink. The sides were somewhat
deeper than the river, and well caulked and pitched to keep
the water out and enable the men to work. When the first
course of stone was laid and cramped together, the water
was let into the caisson by sluices, and the whole sunk to
the bottom. It being found this was not sufficiently level,
the sluices were closed, the water pumped out, when the
whole floated again, and the bottom was again dredged
and levelled. This operation was performed three times
before the work settled to a level bed. The pier was then
built up to a height above water-level, when the sides of
the caisson were removed, and used again for the next pier.
Blackfriars Bridge was afterwards built on the same plan,
but in consequence of the removal of old London Bridge,
the scour of the river increased so much as to work under
the piers; these directly began to settle in all ways, and the
bridges must both be rebuilt. The system of caissons might,
perhaps, nevertheless, be used in still waters, but it is
manifestly improper for a sharp current, and still worse for
a tidal river.
STONE-MASONRY.
Founda¬
tions.
Foundations in Water—Modern Systems.
New sys¬
tems.
Diving¬
dress.
bour.
73. The great advance in all objects of engineering,
and the desire to avoid expense, has led to some very in¬
genious and novel systems of laying foundations in water.
74. The first of these is chiefly owing to the invention of
the diving dress. (See Diving, vol. viii., Plate CCV,) This
has now been brought to such perfection, that excavating,
levelling the bottom, setting large blocks of stones, cutting
off the heads of piles, in fact, all engineering operations
are effected under water almost as easily as on land ; the
men, in fact, working in a large bag filled with air. The
most extraordinary work of this kind is now being carried
Dover bar- on at Dover, where a huge mole projects into the ocean, of
an extent and construction that exceeds any thing yet
achieved. Our limits prevent our giving a full account of
this work. It must suffice to say, that the outsides of the
pier are composed of two parallel walls, built with large
blocks of granite, which are sunk into the solid chalk partly
by dredging and partly by excavation. A number of piles1
are driven into the sea, on the tops of which are strong
cross-sleepers, each traversed by a series of iron rails, on
which a number of travelling cranes move in all directions.
These convey the stones exactly over their intended beds,
on to which they are lowered, according to signals given
by the divers below, who then cramp them together as
well as they can. Between these two outer walls is a
filling-in, composed of immense blocks of concrete, made of
the ballast from the beach and Portland cement. These
blocks are cast, as it were, in wooden boxes, the sides of
which are removed when the concrete is set. Pieces of
rope or chain are cast within the body of the block, and by
them they are raised and lowered just as if they were masses
of stone. The pier, therefore, is composed of concrete
faced w ith granite; and the work stands extremely well.
75. The next important change in building in the
w'ater is the substitution of iron piles for those of timber.
Their success emboldened engineers, and from small piles,
Cylinders, driven in the usual way, large cast-iron cylinders came into
use. These vary, according to the nature of the work, from
3 or 4, to 6 or 7 feet in diameter. They are first lowered
into the water in a vertical position, and driven down as
far as they will go without much difficulty. A quantity of
clay is then thrown in round the outside of each, to keep the
water from coming in under the bottom as little as possible.
That inside is then pumped out, and workmen descend and
excavate the bottom, sending up the stuff in buckets, just
as a well is excavated. The cylinder then sinks partly by
its own weight, and partly from weights above, as the earth
is excavated beneath to the depths required; each cylinder
has a series of flanches, on which another is screwed from
time to time as the former sinks into the bottom. When the
cylinders are sunk to a proper depth, they are brought to
a level at the top, and a platform of girders and planking
is fixed for permanent use. In many instances the cylin¬
ders have been filled in solid with concrete after they have
been thus submerged.
Rochester 76. The most extraordinary operation of this kind has,
new bridge however, just been executed in the piers of the new bridge
at Rochester. The ground here was very difficult to work,
being composed partly of rag rock and partly of very hard
chalk, and it was found almost impracticable to sink the
piles in the manner last described, which is successful enough
in clay. To overcome this difficulty the following plan
was devised:—a proper stage of piles, sleepers, &c., was
first erected, and a number of cast-iron cylinders, each 9
feet long and 7 feet in diameter were bolted together in
proper lengths. As it was necessary to employ diving-
bells to dredge the bottom, it was considered that each
Iron piles.
cylinder might easily be converted info a sort of bell by
putting on it an air-tight cap. This w^as done, and an in¬
genious method contrived by which the men could pass in
and out of the cylinder without admitting the air. It would
exceed our limits to go into all the details of this invention,
which was called an air-lock, probably from its permitting or
hindering the passage of air, much as the lock-gates on a
canal do with that of water. But there was this great
difference between the method described in [sec. 75] and
this new method. In the former the water was pumped
out of the cylinder, but in this air was forced into the
cylinder below the air-tight cap and locks, and the water
driven out by its pressure. The men then entered through
the air-locks, and excavated the ground under the cylinder,
which descended by its being heavily weighted above. As
each cylinder sunk, the cap was removed and another cylin¬
der screwed on, so that some of the piles (as in fact they may
be called), consisted of seven pieces, and measured over 60
feet in length, one half of which was buried in the bed of the
river. The girders, tying the heads together on the top, as
well as the skew-backs, &c., from whence the arches spring,
were then fixed in the usual way. (See Iron Bridges.)
77. A still more curious method of employing iron Screw,
piles is the invention of Mr Mitchell, and succeeds admira- piles,
bly in soft ground and even in sands. These are hollow,
and of wrought-iron, varying in diameter from 5 or 6 inches
to about a foot. They terminate at the end with screws of
various shapes (see figs. 12, 13, and 14), and are screwed
into the bed of the „
rn|f'!| river or the bottom
of the sea, as the
case may be, to such
a depth as to hold
the pile firm, their
heads are then con¬
nected together
wdth sleepers, &c.,
and the intended su¬
perstructure erect-
^—o.o * ed. The lighthouse
Fig. 12. on the Chapman
Sand, in the mouth of the River
Thames, is built on piles 7 inches
in diameter and about 40 feet
long, the screw part is of cast-
iron about 4 feet in diameter.
They are screwed down till only
2 or 3 feet remain above the
sand; on their heads are cast-iron
cylinders, braces, &c., which sup¬
port the lighthouse, which is en- Fig. is.
tirely of wrought-iron. The piles are only seven in num¬
ber ; one driven in the centre, and the others at equal dis¬
tances around it.
78. Several very ingenious adapta¬
tions of iron for coffer-dams have been
tried with success in various places;
they are all, however, more or less ex¬
pensive, not only in construction and
removal, but because they entail con¬
stant expenses in pumping.
79. The method lately invented
by Mr Page for getting in the piers
of the new bridge now in course of
erection at Westminster is, however,
so novel and so important, we feel our ^ J7T3 0_.
work would not be complete without Fig 14
a short description of it. Figs. 15, 16, and 17 show the
plan, the long and cross-sections of half each pier. Rows of
Iron coffer¬
dams.
West¬
minster
new bridge.
1 These piles form a scaffold, and are removed when the work is done.
724
STONE-MASONRY.
Founda¬
tions.
strong elm piles, A A,1 about 30 feet long, are driven into
the bed of the river, as shown in the plan, passing first
through the gravel, which is about 4 or 5 feet thick, and
then going about !20 feet into the London clay. There
are about 140 or 150 piles to each pier, ranged alternately
in threes and fives, around these a range of cast-iron piles
Founda¬
tions.
BB, are driven about 4 feet apart, as shown in the figure.
These are round, 15 inches in diameter, and have strong
grooves cast on each side of them. They, however, go
into the clay only 10 or 12 feet. Into these grooves large
plates of iron, which the engineer calls “ plate-piles,” are
fitted and driven down between the piles, BB. They are
marked CC on the cross-section (fig. 16), and, as will be seen,
go about 10 feet into the blue clay, and extend to about a
1 The same letters apply to all three figures.
Stone-
Cutting.
STONE-MASONRY.
is then dredged out, and the case filled up solid with hy-
^ draulic concrete, in which, of course, the piles are embedded,
and the whole forms one solid mass to about a foot above
low water-mark. At this level the tops of the piles are
cut off, and on each top a stone 2 feet square and 1’6 thick
is bedded, the spaces between which are again filled in
solid with concrete. The gravel is then dredged out around
the pier on the outside of the case, and the space also
filled with concrete, as shown at EE. It has been urged
that the steamers will come into collison with the round
piles, BB, and break them, so that the granite slabs, DD,
will escape, as it were, and fall into the river. This, how¬
ever, cannot be as long as the concrete E remains in its
place, as the top of the slab D is secured by the masonry,
and the bottom would not be accessible. It is, however,
intended to protect the piles by floating booms, which
would prevent the chance of collison, and would act as
safeguards for the steamers as well as the bridge.
For the action of waves, running water, &c., on walls,
piers, &c., see Harbour.
725
may be set out by a long lath, one brad awl as a centre, Stone-
and another to trace, or by beam compasses; but if they Cutting,
are flat, the centre is frequently at such a distance as to v—
render this inconvenient, if not impossible. The best way Circular
arches, to
draw.
Flat
arches.
Fig. 18.
Previous
descrip¬
tions.
Moulds,
end to find
the lines
for.
Making
working
drawings.
tunes for
arches.
IV.—STONE-CUTTING.
80. The different methods of reducing stones to shape
by the axe or scabbling-hammer, the saw, or the tool; of
dressing by the chisel or point; the nature and value of
plain work, sunk work, moulded work, and beds and joints;
the various sorts of bond, and of rubble, coursed, or ashlar,
with their proper backings and quoin-stones; the mortar,
and such methods of working and setting the beds of
stones, that the faces may not chip or flush ; the mode of
securing and strengthening work, by discharging and re¬
lieving arches ; by hoop-iron bond, cramps, dowels, joggles,
plugs, &c.; the descriptions of copings, cornices, string¬
courses, blocking-courses, sills, landings, balconies, paving,
curbs, steps, hearths, chimney-pieces, &c.; and of columns,
with their beds, joggles, flutes, &c.; in short, all that re¬
lates to the mechanical part of stone-cutting, has been
already given, article Building, pages 737 to 741, to
which we refer our readers.
81. Before working the various pieces of stone, it is ne¬
cessary to prepare certain moulds, which are generally of
thin metal, wood, mill-board, or some similar substances, of
the exact form with which each face of the stone is to be
worked; and which are applied to the sides of the stone,
and their shapes marked or “scribed” thereon. They
serve the double purpose of guiding the workmen, and of
enabling him to select pieces of stones of convenient sizes,
so that there should be as little waste and labour thereon
as may be. We shall now proceed to show how to find
these lines, the most important thing a mason can learn.
82. The general principles of the making working draw¬
ings ; the projection of lines, of planes, and of curved sur¬
faces; the finding the anglesof planes inclined toone another;
the describing mouldings, and the methods of finding the
lines where they mitre, on the level or on the rake; in
short, all the general principles of projection are given in
Joinery, sect. I., 1 to 20.
Arches, to Describe.
83. But as arches form no part of joiners’ work, and as
our articles Arch, Architecture, Bridge, &c., though
containing full scientific developments on the subject, neces¬
sarily involve the highest branches of pure mathematics,
we shall refer the readers of abstract science to these
articles, and shall proceed to give a few' problems in de¬
scriptive geometry for the use of masons, as we have done
before for joiners.
84. First, ol circular arches. These, if of moderate size,
to proceed, far better than most of the cyclographs, is thus:
—Let AB (fig. ] 8), be the wudth of the arch, and CD its
height; set out their width and height on a floor, or on
some boards joined together for the purpose ; drive pins at
A and B. Take two straight rods AD, DB, place them
so that their sides may touch A and B, and their intersec¬
tion coincide with D. Tack them together, and also a
third lath across, to keep them at the same angle ; place a
pencil at D, which will trace the curve if the rods are
moved to the right and left, and are kept pressed against
the pins A and B.
85. Another way (fig. 19), let the letters represent the Another
way.
D
same): join AD,drawDE parallel toAB,and makeDEequal
to AD, then cut out a triangle in wood, or form one as above
with three laths ; put a pin into the board at D, and a pencil
at the same point of the triangle, and it will trace half the
curve AD ; reverse it, and it will trace the other half DB.
86. Next to circular forms, the most common are those
from the sections of a cone, of which the most usual is the .
ellipse ; the parabola is sometimes used, and so is the hyper- fr^ 68 j
bola, but very seldom. As these forms are necessary in secHons.nIC
setting out Grecian mouldings, as well as in almost all pro¬
blems in masonry, it is proposed to treat of all three as
shortly as possible.
87. Let ABC (fig. 20) be the section of a cone, or one cut
through its axis downwards to ^he ellip‘
its base, and ABD be half the S18'
plan of its base. If the cone
be cut by a plane passing
through EF, in other words,
if it was cut into two parts by
X.
1/
Fig. 21.
a large flat knife passing in that direction, but wholly above
the base, its section would be an ellipse. Then EF would
be its length, or axis-major. To find its height or axis-
minor, bisect EF in G, through G draw a line parallel to
AB, touching the sides of the cone ; bisect this in O, and
on it describe the semicircle as shown ; then draw GH
parallel to the axis of the cone CD, and this line GH will
be the half the height, or the semi axis-minor, and the
ellipse will be described within the parallelogram EF. HR’
(fig. 21).
726
Stone-
Cutting.
Various
ways of de¬
scribing
the ellipsis.
To describe
an ellipsis
by ordi¬
nates.
To describe
an ellipsis
by com¬
passes.
STONE-MASONRY.
88. Tills may be done, first, by finding the foci," and tie-
scribing the ellipsis by a
cord or string, thus
Take the distance FG (fig.
22) in your compasses, and
from H as a centre strike
the portion of a circle
1, 2, 3, then 1 and 3,
where it cuts EF, are
the foci. Stick two pins,
or brad awls, in their
points, and strain a string
round H, 1 and 3 ; place a pencil at H, and move it round,
keeping the string tight. The pencil will draw the ellipse,
Or it may be done by a trammel. (See vol. viii., Plate
CCXXXI. fig. 1 ; and see article Elliptograph.)
89. Let the parallelogram be, as before (fig. 23). Divide
EG, E 4, each into any
number of equal parts;
here they are divided into
4 ; from HH' draw lines
through 1,2, 3, as shown,
and where they intersect
are points in an ellipsis ;
mark these points, bend
a thin lath round them,
and strike the curve. The
same repeated for the
other quarters will complete the ellipse. These methods
are mathematically true; but as it is difficult to get laths to
bend round a large curve, and very difficult to tie a string
exactly to the proper length; and also to prevent its stretching
when tied, other means have been taken as approximations.
90. It is of the utmost importance to the mason, whether
in Gothic or other work, to remember, that in all cases
where two circles touch each other, the two centres from
which they each are struck, and the point in which they
touch, must lie in the same straight line; in other words,
a line drawn from one centre to the other must pass
through the point of contact, a point where they each
touch without cutting each other. If this rule be not
strictly attended to, any curve coming out of another will
not flow freely, but must be crippled. If we attempt to
draw an ellipse with the compasses, we must strictly attend
to that rule. Now,
if we take a dia¬
gram similar to fig.
23, but instead of 2
four parts, we sup¬
pose the diameter
EG and the side E
divided into two
parts, as fig. 24.
Now, joining the
lines H 1, FT 1, we
get at their inter¬
section, a point K,
which, as has been
shown before, is a m
point within the Kg. 24.
true curve of the ellipse. To prevent the confusion of so
many lines, we will now suppose a similar point found in
the right hand quarter, and will call it L. Now, we have
to draw two portions of circles, one through L and F, the
other through LH and K, and they are, of course, to
touch each other in L ; then this point of contact L and the
centres of the circles must be all in the same straight line.
To do this we have to join HL by a straight line, and
bisect it by a perpendicular line. This is done by taking
any convenient opening of the compasses, and from the
points H and L cross two small segments, as shown, and
draw a line through them on till they meet HG produced
to M. Join ML, cutting EF in N. From N as a centre
strike the segment of a circle LF ; and as LN and M
are in the same straight line from the centre M, strike the
segment KHL, which will pass through H, and touch
LF at L. We have, therefore, a curved line passing
through the points KHLF, all of which points are in
the curve of a true ellipse, though the curve itself is not so,
but parts of circular arcs. Proceed in the same way for
the other side of the parallelogram, and the ellipsis is com¬
plete. If greater accuracy is required, divide EG, E 2,
each into three or four or even more points, instead of two,
and proceed on the same principle given above, viz., join
the first pair of points so formed (beginning at the top) by a
straight line, bisect this by a perpendicular projected till
it cuts the line HG, and then join the next pair of points,
and bisect again as before.
91. Let ABC (fig. 25) be the section of a cone as before,
and ABD half the plan Fig. 25.
of its base; if the cone be
cut through by a flat
straight cut or plane in
the direction EF, but it
always must be parallel
to one of the sides (as it
is here to the side CB),
the section of the cone
thus cut will be a para¬
bola, and its height or
axis will be EF. From
F draw FG at right
angles to the base AB,
and FG is half the base
of the same.
92. Draw a parallelo¬
gram (fig. 26) of which
the height shall be equal
to FE, and the base equal
to twice FG. Divide the
height and each half the
base into any number of
equal parts (in this case
they are divided into 4),
draw co-ordinates cross¬
ing each other as shown,
and abc will be points
in the curve ; bend a lath
round, and strike the
curve, which will be a
parabola. In a similar way a parabola may be drawn, any
height and width being given.
93. Let ABC, See. (fig. 27), be the cone and its plan as
before, and let it be cut by a plane at EF, falling within
the base, but not parallel to the side. The curve of the
section is a hyperbola, and FE is its height. From F draw
FG at right angles to AB; then twice FG is the base of a
parallelogram, within which the hyperbola lies.
94. Construct a parallelogram (fig. 28) of the height
EF, and width twice FG; then in fig. 27 produce the
side AC and the line EF till they meet in H, and make
EH (fig. 28) equal EH (fig. 27), divide the sides as shown
into any number of equal parts, cross the co-ordinates as
before, and through their intersections draw the curve.
95. It is now necessary to say a few words on the re¬
gular solid figures with which the mason has most to
do. These are the cone, the cylinder, the globe, and the
spheroid. The cone may be considered to be formed
The para¬
bola.
To describe
the para¬
bola.
Fig. 26.
The hyper¬
bola.
To draw
the hyper¬
bola.
The regu¬
lar solids-
1 For the definitions of the words/oci, ordinate, axis, &c., see Conic Sections, pp. 252, 258, and 269.
Stone- by taking a right angle triangle (ABC, fig. 29), holding it
Cutting, upright, and turning it round as if the perpendicular side
W—' AB was an axis. The surface traced by the hypothenuse
AC as it turns, would be the surface of a cone, and that
STONE-MASON R Y.
Fig. 27.
Fig.29.
Sections of
a cone.
Fig. 31'.
develop¬
ment of a
cone.
Fig. 28.
by the third side BC the base. In the like manner the
parallelogram A BCD (fig. 30), turned round on one of its
sides, as AB, would describe a
cylinder; a semicircle (ABC,
fig. 31) turned on its chord AB,
a globe ; and a semi-ellipsis, on
its axis, a spheroid.
96. If a cone be cut by any
plane surface passing through
its vertex, the section will be a
triangle; if cut at right angles
to its axis, the section will be a
circle; if cut obliquely (as fig.
20), but at so flat an angle that
the plane does not cut into the base, the section is an ellipsis;
if by a plane parallel to one of its sides (figs. 25 and 26),
which, of course, must cut the base, it is a parabola ; if of less
angle, or perpendi¬
cular (figs. 27 and 28) elevation
to the axis, it is a
hyperbola.
97. If a piece of
paper could be wrap¬
ped round any figure
so as to cover its
side exactly, and this
then be spread out flat, a
it is called its devel¬
opment. Let ABC
(fig. 32) be a right
cone, the plan of which
is drawn beneath it.
Suppose this plan di¬
vided into any number
of equal parts, as 12, Fig 32>
and the cone divided in a similar way by lines drawn to the
apex A; suppose these lines drawn in wet ink, or paint, and
the cone then rolled on its side along a flat surface, A 1,
A 2, A 3, &c., would mark the different portions of the cone ;
and C 1 2 3-6 will be the stretch out of half its base, and
AC 6 the development of half its surface. The other half
will be merely a continuation of the same. To draw this de¬
velopment from the centre A
with the radius AC, describe the
segment of a circle, and set off
upon it the openings 0, 1-6, equal
to the circumference of the half¬
circle 0-6 on the plan, and join
A 1, &c. Each division will be
the development of a portion
of the cone—thus, AC 3 will
be a quarter of the cone, AC 4
one third, &c.
98. If a cylinder be cut par¬
allel to its axis, the section is
a parallelogram; if the plane be
inclined from the axis so as not
to pass outside the ends or bases
(fig. 33), a trapezium, ABCD ; if at right angles to the axis,
a circle; and if cut obliquely
to its axis, the plane not cut¬
ting into the ends, the section is
an ellipsis (fig. 34), of which
AB is the larger and CD the
lesser axis.
99. Let ABCD (fig. 35) be
the elevation of a cylinder, and
its plan be below it; and suppose
it divided as directed for the a
cone, and then rolled along a
plain surface from E o to F 6.
0-6 is the stretch out of half its
base, and E o-F 6 is the develop¬
ment of half its surface. To
draw this proceed as directed for
the cone.
ELEVATION.
727
Stone-
Cutting.
Sections of
a cylinder.
Fig. 33.
Develop¬
ment of a
right cylin¬
der.
Fig. 34.
t z 3 4 f <>
DEVELOPMENT.
Fig. 35.
100. Let ABCD (fig. 36) be a cylinder cut square at
the base BC (of which the plan is below), but obliquely
at the top, as AD.
The upper section (sec. 98), will be an ellipse, of which Develop-
AD will be the length, and the radius of the circle (on the ment of an
plan) equal to half the height EF. This may be described oblique oy-
by any of the foregoing methods. Divide the circle at the linder-
base as before, and draw lines on to the surface of the
cylinder; set out the stretch out from 0 to 6 as before
directed, and draw the perpendiculars—as 0 O'. 1 T, 2 2',
728
Stone-
Catting.
Sections of
a globe.
Sections of
a spheroid.
Circular
arches.
STONE-MASONRY.
&c. Again, draw perpendiculars from 01 2, &c., on the
stretch out, and cross them by horizontal lines drawn from
Fig. 36.
6
DEVELOPMENT,
similar points in the elevation, cutting the lines on the
development at 1' 2' 3', &c., the surface between the curved
and the straight line is its development. In like manner
the other half may be drawn.
101. If a globe be cut through by any plane, the section
is a circle. If the plane passes through the centre of the
globe it is called a great circle, being the largest that can
be cut out of that solid. For the development of a globe
see 117, 118.
102. If a spheroid be cut by a plane at right angles to
its larger axis, the section is a circle; all other sections are
oval, of which all parallel sections are similar.
These foregoing problems are indispensable to a mason,
and should be carefully studied and gone over till they are
thoroughly understood. Several other mathematical curves
have been used for arches, as cycloidal, catenary, cassinoidal,
&c.; but the trouble of setting them out, and the difficulty
and confusion the workmen often get into has led engineers
and architects to the use of circular and elliptical arches
almost exclusively. Indeed, in many cases where the
latter were formerly used, it has been found better and
cheaper practically to substitute segments of circles.
To find the Joints of Arches.
104. Let EHF be an ellipse, and a the point from which
the arch-joint should be struck; find the foci 1 3 (sec.
88, fig. 22), and draw
lines from each through
the point a, as shown
towards b and c. Bi¬
sect the angle bac, by
the segments as shown ;
draw ba, which is the
arch-joint. In cases of
arches drawn by seg¬
ments of circles, as fig. 39, the arch-joints are simply parts
of radii from the respective centres ABC. This figure
Stone-
Cutting.
Joints of
elliptical
arches.
shows the case of an arch drawn from three centres in
each quadrant instead of two. The arch-joints from D to
E are to be ruled from C, from E to F they are to be
drawn from B, and F to G from A. The method of
finding these points is shown on the other half of the
diagram. (See also sec. 90.)
105. The same rule holds good with parabolic arches as Joints to
with others, that the arch-joint shall be at right angles to a parabolic
tangent, passing through the point whence it rises. Then arches,
let ABC be a parabola, drawn as shown, sec. 92, figs. 25 and
26. It is required to find the arch-joint at D, draw DE
103. In all cases the joints of all arches should be at
right angles to the tangents of the curve. For this reason
those of circular arches should simply be drawn to the
centre of the circle of which they form a part. If that be
very distant, as is frequently the case with very flat arches
(fig. 37), divide the arc into as many equal parts as may be
Fig. 37.
convenient, having relation to the size of the arch-stones or
voussoirs, and taking care that the middle of the key-stone
A shall be exactly in the centre of the curve. Then, from
every alternate centre as B and C, with any convenient
opening of the compasses, strike two small arcs, as at D,
crossing each other; these will give the angles for the
joints. In fact, this way is very nearly true for all flat
arches, whether circular or elliptical.
parallel to AB, and make CF equal to CE; through D,
draw FD a as shown ; take a, b equal distances from D,
and raise the perpendicular D e, which is the arch-joint.
To find the Arch-Stones or Voussoirs.
106. Let fig. 41 be the elevation of the arch, below which
is its plan. Then, as the stones are generally longer than
they are high, the workman will take a block of about the
size required, and will work any long side, say the bed
abef(see plan). He will then work the ends square, and
of course they will be parallel with the face of the wall;
he will then, by means of bevels, set off the angles a be,
bad, bed, and work these sides; he will then apply a
mould the exact shape of the arch-stone, as shown by the
shaded lines, to each end of the stone he is working, and de¬
scribe its exact shape, taking care to keep the moulds out
of winding, and work off the waste between the dotted
lines ad, be, reducing them to the curve shewn by the
mould, and the work is complete.
107. If the arch be splayed inside, as on the right hand
STONE-MASONRY.
Stone- side ot the plan, fig. 41, and Im be the half of the width
Cutting, of the square part, and In that of the splayed, then the
elevation.
Arches
splayed in¬
side.
Arches in
oblique
walls.
ing. 41.
line marked r, s', n', is an ellipsis. Draw this by any of the
methods given above, taking In as the length and lA as
the height. Then the plan of the bed (No. 1) at the
springing will be mnopq (see plan, fig. 41). The next
bed ssf s", fig. 42, No. 2 ; the third, r, rv r2, &c., &c.—the
No. 3.
No. 2.
No. 1.
IT" T" SS'' S" mil 0
PLANS OF BEDS OF ARCH-JOINTS.
Fig. 42.
depth of the square part, and the entire thickness of the
arch being always the same.
108. Let AB represent the plan of an opening (as a
door or window) which cuts obliquely into a wall. If the
729
equal to GE as the height, and AB the length, and describ- Stone-
mg an ellipse ; also make IK equal to EF, and describe a Cutting,
second ellipse through K as shown ; AKB will be the
face °f the arch. If these arches are of great length, or Skew
very oblique, another method has been lately used, which is arches,
given in the separate article Skew Akches.
109. The soffit of an arch may always be found by To find the
considering it to touch a cylinder placed as a centre under soffits.
it, and by finding the development of such cylinder by
100 rneth°tls given in J°INERY> and in the sections 99,
110. Let ABC .. F, a£c,/(fig. 44) be the section of the Arches in
arc i ot a tunnel, or of one in a terrace wall, the face of oblique
walls,
which also
batter.
Fig. 43.
face of the arch be a circle, proceed as in 41 ; but instead
of working the stones square at the end, they must be
worked according to the bevel 12 3. The face bevels are
obtained as shown before. But if the section of the arch
be an ellipse, as CED (fig. 43), and the depth of the voussoir
EF? the delineation of the face will be found by drawing
HI at right angles to and bisecting AB, and making HI
VOL. XX.
Fig. 44.
which is not square with the section, but inclined on the
plan at the angle NAF', and which also batters or falls
back out of the perpendicular at the angle UST on
the longitudinal section, SU being perpendicular to the
springing line. From the intrados def, &c., draw the
faint lines to ST, as \e, 2d, &c., and from the extrados
draw the dotted lines 3E, 4D, &c.; also let fall the perpen¬
dicular b b, c c, dd, on A'F'. Then take the several divisions
intercepted between ST and the perpendicular US, and
transfer them to the line A'F', and set them off at right
angles to it as shown ; then d U c ../', will be the line of
the intrados on plan, and A', B'.. F', that of the extrados ;
and the portion between those lines will represent the
battering face of the arch. From B'#, C'c', &c., let fall
perpendiculars as shown, and the shaded portions will re¬
present the places of the arch-joints on the plan.
. 111* Take any line OP equal to the stretch out of the The moulds
inner circle of the arch ab..f, and divide it into as many for the sof-
parts as there are arch-stones. Draw perpendiculars from fits and
these points as shown in the figure, and set out on them arch-joints.
gtl, he, &c., equal to the same on the plan. Then d V c ,
&c., is the development of the line of the intrados; and"
each portion, as c'd'op, d'pre, is the mould for the soffit
of each respective stone. Next make lm,no, &c., equal
to Act, or Dd, in the section which will represent the
depth of each arch-joint, and make B7', Cn, &c., in the
development equal to B7, &c., on the plan. B'blm,
4a
730
STONE-MASONRY.
Stone- dTfp q, &c., are the moulds for the arch-joints, as shown
Cutting.^ jjy graded surfaces.
112. Let Aabc, &c. (fig. 45), be a circular-headed arch
To find the
moulds for
the soffits.
To find the
arch-joints.
General
remarks.
DEVELOPMENT.
Fig. 45.
over a door or window, in the wall of a circular bow or
tower ; the plan of which is LMNOPQ. Draw the arch¬
joints 5B, cC, &c., in the section, and let them fall on the
plan in b'B', c'C, then the shaded part will represent the
lines of the arch-joints on the plan.
113. Draw any line in the plan RS perpendicular to the
lines let fall. Also draw GH in the development, and
make it equal to the stretch out ab . .f, and divide it into
as many parts as there are arch-stones at 1, 2, 3, &c.; draw
the perpendiculars, and set down 1, 5', 2, c, on the develop¬
ment equal to 15', 2c', &c., on the plan. Do the same with
l/ra, 2rc, 3o, &c., and the line af b‘ cr, &c., is the front line
of the soffit, and l m, q, the inner line of the same; also
c'd' n o, b'c'm n, will represent the soffit of each arch-stone.
114. From the lines tim, c'n, &c., set out the depth of
the arch-stone equal to B5, &c., on the cross section, and
on the line GH set down 6B', 7C', &c., equal to the same
on the plan. The shaded portions will then be the moulds
for the arch-joints.
115. The above problem may be used for any sort of
arch, or any form of wall, whether cylindrical or conical,
care being taken that all section lines be first carefully
transfen-ed to the plan and then to the development. Per¬
haps the method of finding the arch-joints will be better
understood if the reader will suppose the stones of an arch
to be transparent or made of glass ; and the joints or sur¬
faces where they touch to be blackened. If the eye were
placed exactly above such an arch, it would present the
appearance as shown in our plans.
Fig. 46.
Spherical Vaults, Domes, Niche Heads, fyc.
116. Spheres or globes may be developed in two ways,—
first, in horizontal sections or zones ; and, second, in verti- Stone-
cal sections or gores. Cutting.
117. Let Ao, 1, 4 (fig. 46) be the section of a dome, and
1, 2, 3, 4 the places of the arch-joints ; AB 4, the spring- To do¬
ing line ; B, o, the velop a
line through the ver- jc sphere,
tex ; produce this line
towards C, and through
2 1, 3 2, 4 3 ; draw
chords to the vertical
line, cutting it in a,
b, C. Then o is the
centre of the eye of the
globe, or the key-stone
of the dome ; a the
centre of the develop¬
ment of the first zone,
1,2; b, the centre of
the second 2, 3, C, of
the third 3, 4; and so
on for as many divi¬
sions as you may think
proper to divide the globe into.
118. Let xy, in fig. 46, be a gore or section of globe, The same
made by two vertical planes passing through its centre, vertically
Then those planes are portions or *n g°res*
of great circles 101, and their
sections are quadrants. Let
ADB (fig. 47) be one of these
quadrants, draw DC parallel
to AB, and make it equal to
half the gore required. Draw
CF parallel to DB ; produce
AB to F, and CF to E, and
join DF. Divide AD into any
number of parts, as 0, 1, 2, 3,
&c., and draw ordinates paral¬
lel to AB, cutting DF and
CF. On CE set out 0, 1, 2,
&c., so that CE will be the
stretch out of AD. Draw or¬
dinates through these points,
and make 1, a; 2, 5; &c., in
CE, equal to the same lines
intercepted between DF and CF. The curved line
which passes through Da 5c, &c., will be the development
of half the gore. Transfer these points to the other side,
and the whole is completed.
By these two methods any portion of the surface of a
globe may be drawn, and if cut out of any thin material
will form a mould for any of the curved surfaces.
119. Let fig. 48 be the section, and fig. 49 the plan of a To find the
semi-circular dome, or a niche head. For greater clear-joints of a
ness this is drawn with only two ranges of arch-stones dome,
besides the key, but the theory is the same for any num¬
ber. Then abed upon the plan will be the bed ; ab ef on
section, the end mould of the first voussoir; the face moulds
will be found by the preceding problems. It remains to
find the upper bed at ef. With the radius Of strike part
of a circle (fig. 50), and set out on it the line//? g, equal
Vo f g stretched out on the plan. If the thickness of the
dome be parallel, as on the left side of the diagram, set out
such thickness ef (fig. 48), and then describe the circle eh,
and ef g h is the mould. The bevels can easily be set from
the plan and section. If the arch-stones are intended to
bond in with the level masonry, as shown on the right side
of the section (fig. 48), make /? q (fig. 50), equal to /? </ in the
section, and proceed as before. In this latter case it will
be better to work the arch-stones thus : from the point 1 on
section let fall (through p') the perpendicular 1 /? 2, and
draw 4, 3, parallel thereto ; then 2, r, 3, 5, 6, on the plan
Fig. 47.
731
STONE-MASONEY.
Stone- (fig. 49), will be the mould of the bed: 1,4, 2, 3, on the sec- No. 1. Join AB on olan No 3 and draw OP
^Cutting^ tion, fig. 50, of the end : and the plane 1, 2. 3, a square angle cular to AB, and equal to OC, Nos. 1 and 2. Then the Cutting.
SECTION. Fig. 52. - -
Fig. 48.
Fig. 49.
Fig. 50.
with the plan. The block will be the portion of an upright
cylinder shown by 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, fig. 51.
<7 4, 2 r, 2p, &c., equal to the same
on the section, and work off the
waste as shown. As the radii of a
globe are all equal, the curve is
alike in all parts. A radius rule is
therefore very convenient, this is
found (fig. 50) by simply making
fg a chord to the curve, and the
section included by the lines forms
the rule. The key is simply part
of a cone, the widest diameter of
which iswx, and narrowest yz.
Then make
Cylindri¬
cal vaults
with equal
apertures.
Unequal
apertures,
but equal
heights.
Arched Vaults which intersect each other or Groins.
120. Almost all groins (except the mediaeval) are either
circular or elliptical, and their crowns ah, cd (fig.52),form
straight lines. If the openings and heights be equal, the two
sections (Nos. 1 and 2, fig. 52), will be alike, and the centers
will intersect on the groin lines. Then (99) the intersec¬
tion of two cylinders will be an ellipse of the length a h
on the plan, fig. 53, and of the height of c<7 equal to that of
either of the sections. Having thus the width and height, the
ellipse may be drawn by any of the methods given above.
121. If arches are of equal height, and level both at
crown and springing, but of unequal widths, one arch at
least must be the portion of an ellipse, and the intersec¬
tion an ellipse more or less regular. Let the main arch,
No. 1, be semi-circular ABC (fig. 54), and the cross arch,
No. 2, of the width DE, but of the same height OC as
different
heights,
hut same
springing.
Fig. 53.
line of intersection will be an ellipse, the length of which
is AB, and the height OC. The section, No. 2, will be
an upright ellipse, the greater axis of which is OC and
the less DE, all which may be drawn as before. If the
cross vault be a semicircle, the main vault will be a flat
ellipse, and the groins found as before.
122. These are either from the same springing, in which Arches of
case the crowns of the intersect- Fig. 55.
ing arches are not level; or the
crowns are level, in which case
the springing of the lesser arch
is higher than that of the greater.
In fig. 55, No. 1 is the section
of the main arch, No. 2 of the
cross arch, No. 3 is the plan of
a groin in which both arches are
semicircular, but No. 2 is less
than No. 1, and of course of
different heights. In the smaller
arch, No. 2, take any number of
points, 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, and draw
horizontal lines from them to the
perpendicular 0, 1, 2, 3, transfer
them to No. 1, return them to
the curve, and draw co-ordi¬
nates from these points, meeting
in the line abed, which is the
curve of intersection. These
are called under-piteh groins,
and sometimes Welsh arches.
In the same way the lines 56-
may be formed where one arch intersects another obliquely
(fig. 56), where the respective numbers and letters refer
to the same things.
123. In this case the springing of the smaller arch must Arches of
be higher than the other. This often occurs in Roman different
work, and almost always in Norman groining. No. 2 (fig. 57) 5lei8hts>
is the smaller semicircle, the springing line of which is AB. })ut]evel at
Make OC in No. 2 equal to OC in No. 1, which is the e crown-
height from the crown to the springing of the main arch.
Take any points in the curve 0, 1, 2, 2, 3, &c., of No. 2,
draw them to the perpendicular A 4, and transfer them to
No. 1, and cross the co-ordinates as before, and the line of
intersection will be found. But it must be noticed this is
a curved line, and not a straight groin point, as will be the
case in the next problem.
124. This is often the case at the end of a building with j^e^whln
a canted bow, or a church that ends with a hexagonal apsis, a cylinder
Let ABCD (fig. 58, No. 3), be the plan of cylindrical is inter¬
vault, the section of which is DEF, No. 1, and let it be sected by a
pierced by the portion of a conical vault GHIK. Produce of
a cone*
732
Stone-
Cutting.
Descend¬
ing vaults.
Greek and
Roman
mouldings.
STONE-MASONRY.
GH, IK, O, till they meet in O the vertex of the cone,
and till de m No. 2 is made equal to DE in No. 1,—de,
of course, being parallel to GI. Draw the semicircle def
in No. 2 equal to DEF in No. 1, and divide each into the
same number of equal parts. In No. 2, draw ordinates,
first perpendicular to d e, and thence radiating to the point
O ; cross these by the co-ordinates from No. 1, all as shown
in the diagram, and the curved lines GK, IH, will show
the intersections.
125. The lines for these may be formed on exactly the
same principles, viz., from a plan, two sections, and a double
set of ordinates. In descending vaults, however, we have
to remark, if it is intended the cross arches should be cylin¬
drical, the groined points will be curved, as in 123 and 124.
If it be intended that the groined points shall be straight,
and should intersect in the middle of each bay, then the
section of the cross arch will be an oblique oval.
If a mason will carefully master these problems, he will
find very little difficulty in any methods of stone-cutting.
The same problems give the lines for centering, the
practical method of executing which is found in Carpen¬
try, Centering, &c., &c.
Mouldings.
126. All the sections for Roman mouldings are given in
Joinery, p. 807, but as those used in stone work, particu¬
larly in Grecian architecture, are parts of Conic Sections,
and not struck by compasses, we give a short problem by
which they may all be easily set out.
127. Let (fig. 59) the moulding required, be an ovolo, the
height of which (to the point where the moulding curves
backward) is AC or BD, and the greatest projection AB
or CD; and let CE be a tangent line, or line which the Stone-
curve must touch but not cut. Produce CA to F, and Cutting,
make AF equal to AC, and AG to ED. Divide GB BE
each into the same number of equal parts as 5. Draw the To draw a
co-ordinates from F and C to the respective numbers, Grecian
their intersections will trace the curve. If BE be more than moulding,
having its
height, its
greatest
projection,
and a tan¬
gent to the
curve.
half the whole height, the curve is an ellipsis; if exactly
half the height, it is a parabola ; and if BE be less than
half BD, the curve will be a hyperbola. All other mould¬
ing can be drawn by this method, remembering that cymas,
ogees, and all reflex curves, must be divided and drawn in
two separate portions.
Staircases.
128. The general principle of designing staircases, as re- Stairs,
gards the rise and tread of steps, setting out curves, curtails,
landings, &c., are given in the article Joinery (35, &c.)
The chief difference between these and other staircases
consists in the fixing, the one being framed with wooden
strings, while the other have no strings, but are sup¬
ported entirely by the walls. If there be a wall at each
end, they are simply built in at the time the work goes
up; but if they are supported at one end only, they are
called geometrical stairs, and depend entirely on their
being securely wedged into the wall; on which, and on the
support each derives at one edge from the step below, they
wholly rely. If they are square in section, they are called Solid steps,
solid steps; but as the under side or soffit, then, is irregu¬
lar, it is usual to make the steps of somewhat a triangular
shape, so as to present a regular soffit. In this case they
are called arris, or feather edge steps. Care should be Arris
taken that there are no sudden or irregular changes in the steps,
curves. These may be easily avoided by the method
shown 'for the easing of the curves and ramps in hand¬
rails. (See Joinery.)
129. Landings should also be very carefully pinned into the Landings,
walls. Fig. 60 will show the danger, should they not be so,
through the full length of
their insertion. If the front
edge be pinned up, as at A,
but a vacancy be left, as at B,
the point C will become the
fulcrum of a lever, aqd the
landing have a tendency to
turn at that point, and to
break at the edge C. Every
step and landing should have
8 inches hold in a brick wall.
B Z3 A
Pig. 60.
(130.) All landings should be well joggled; the joint Joggles
STONE-MASONRY.
733
Stone-
Masonry.
made as at a (fig. 61) is called by workmen a he, and that
at 6 a she, joggle.
The late accident '"‘]§|1||§§§11
at the Polytechnic
Institution in Lon-
don arose no doubt
from the careless- Fis- 61-
plaster. There hap¬
pened to be a large
fossil in the stone
close to the wall in
the landing b, which Fig- 62.
having no support from the other landing a, gave way, and
caused the destruction of the staircase below, upon which
it fell.
V. STONE-MASONRY MEDIAEVAL.
Materials.
Arches.
Lancet
arches.
Equilateral
arches.
Depressed
arches.
131. It has already been stated (secs. 67, 68) that many of
the early buildings of the middle ages were entirely con¬
structed of masses of concrete, often faced with a species of
rough cast. The early masonry seems to have been for
the most part worked with the axe and not with the chisel.
A very excellent example of the contrast between the
earlier and later Norman masonry may be seen in the choir
of Canterbury cathedral. In those times the groining was
frequently filled-in with a light tufa stone, said by some to
have been brought from Italy, but more probably from the
Rhine. The Normans imported a great quantity of stone
from Caen, it being easily worked, and particularly fit for
carving. The freestones of England were also much
used; and in the first pointed period, Purbeck and
Bethersden marbles were employed for column shafts,
&c. As time went on the art of masonry advanced with
us, till in point of execution it at length rivaled that of any
country. The methods of working and setting stone were
much the same as at present, except that, as the roads were
then in a very bad state, and in many places the only
means of conveyance was by pack-horses, the stones were
used in much smaller sizes than at present. The methods of
setting out work were, however, different from those of other
styles, as might be expected from the difference of forms.
132. The earliest arches were circular (see Archi¬
tecture, page 480, and figs. 1 to 9, Plate LXVII.), and
of course easily set out. But as the pointed styles came
in, several methods were used for describing them. Pointed
arches may be classed as—1st, lancet; 2d, equilateral;
3d, depressed; and 4th, four-
centred or Tudor. In the
first the centres (1,2, fig;
63) are without the arch a b.
At Westminster Abbey the
arches of the choir are so
acutely pointed, that the
distance from 1 a—2 b is
nearly two-thirds of the ct 33
entire opening a 6. In the Fig. 63.
nave at York the points are without the arch at a dis¬
tance of about one-fifth the open¬
ing a b. In equilateral arches the
centres are exactly on the points
ab (fig. 64), so that the apex e,
joined to a and b, will form an
equilateral triangle. The nave
arches at Wells are of this descrip¬
tion, and also those at Lincoln
(Plate LXIX., fig. 1). In later
times the arches were of lower Fig. ci.
To descriLi-
similar
arches.
pitch, and then of course the centres 1,2 (fig. 65), were
within the arch a b. At Salis¬
bury Cathedral (Plate LXVII.,
14), the distance a 1 is one-
sixth of a b, while in the choir
at Lincoln (fig. 2, Plate LXIX.)
it is as much as two-fifths.
133. To describe arches
which shall be similar to one
another throughout a building,
however the openings may dif¬
fer, this principle must always be borne in mind : that
the centres shall always be distant from the [joints a b by
some aliquot portion of the whole opening. This is the
more important, as the lines of tracery will not fall into
their proper places except the arches are set out upon some
regular principle (sec. 136). If the arches are not equi¬
lateral, some distance from each point, a b should be first
determined on (say one-third the opening a b), and after
this, whatever the span of the other arches may be, one-
third its own opening is to be taken from the points a b,
as the centres from which to strike its curves. The only
exception is, that in mediaeval buildings, the arches to the
doorways are frequently somewhat flatter than those of the
Win^ws- n . To describe
134. In the ludor period the arches are very frequentlyfour-cen-
drawn from four centres instead of two. It must be re-tred arches,
membered that it has already been stated (sec. 90) the point
where two circles touch each other must always be in the
same straight line that is drawn through both their centres.
As there has been great misapprehension as to four-centred
arches, some persons treating them as parts of conic sec¬
tions, whereas they are really parts of segments of circles,
it is thought well to give two methods of describing these
arches. First, when the width AB, and the apex height
OC, are given, and a tangent to the upper circle CD. In
this case draw AD perpendicular to AB, and set out A 1
equal to AD ; draw C 3 perpendicular to CD, and make
CE equal to AD or A 1 ; join 1 E and bisect the same as
shown by a perpendicular meeting CE produced in 3 ;
join 3 1 and produce towards F, then 1 and 3 will be the
centres for half the arch; and, transferring the points
across, 2 and 4 will be the centres for the other half. In
the second case, when the width AB and the height OC,
and the centres of the small circles 1,2, are given. Make
AD equal to A 1, join CD (which will be a tangent to the
upper curve), draw C 3 at right angles thereto, make CE
V
734
STONE-M
Stone-
Masonry.
Archjoints
Mouldings.
Nomencla¬
ture of.
equal to A 1, join 1 E, bisect the same, and proceed as
before. The points FG, as has before been explained, are
the points where the circles will touch each other. The
joints to these arches will all radiate to their respective
centres, as has before been explained in secs. 103, 104.
135. The mouldings of mediaeval architecture are almost
infinite in variety, and even a short description of those
used in each style would exceed our limits. They are
set out with the compasses, and many often
appear to have been drawn by eye. We must refer our
readers to the works of Willis, Paley, and particularly of
J. H. Parker, for their description. A very curious treatise
was published by the former gentleman called the Archi¬
tectural Nomenclature of. the Middle Ages, which goes at
great length into the subject. A bead or astragal seems to
have been called a bowtelle ; a torus, a grete bowtelle ; a
hollow or scotia, a casement; an ogee, a ressaunte, &c.,
&c.; but the subject is too long to be discussed in our
Window
tracery.
pages.
136. The various sorts of tracery which adorn the win¬
dows of the mediaeval periods, and are in fact their greatest
glory, are treated of in the art. Architecture, and speci¬
mens given in the different plates, particularly Plate
LXVIII., figs. 4 to 8. The designs for these are almost
infinite, and the various methods of setting them out would
fill a volume. But although they display such ingenuity
and fancy that one would think the design to be quite
arbitrary, it is a curious fact they are all, or very nearly all,
set out on the principle of geometrical intersections. An
example, therefore, is given (fig. 67) to show the principles
on which the mediaeval architects proceeded to describe
the tracery, and also the method of finding the joints of
the various pieces of stone. Let ab be the opening of
the arch ; as there are to be two mullions, divide the
same into three equal parts, a c, c d, db \ then determine
the points from which to strike the arch. In this instance,
for the sake of simplicity, we make it equilateral (sec. 132
and fig. 64) ; a and 5 then are the centres for striking the
main arch a eg, bfg, and the height og is that of an equi¬
lateral triangle. Produce the springing line, and the
same opening of the compasses through c, and d will give
the principal inner branches of the tracery ce, df. From
the centre o, with an opening extending to the middle of
the lights ac,db, strike a semicircle, raise perpendiculars
from c and <7 to 1 and 2 ; draw a line through 1 and 2; on
this and the springing line will be found the centres of the
Fig. 67.
lower ogees; bisect the line from the intersection 1,2, in
h, which is in fact the same thing as dividing the whole
height og into three ; divide hg into three parts, as 3, 4 ;
through 3 draw a horizontal line, and set off from 3 equal
to one-third of the width o d, or draw the perpendicular
A S O N R Y.
Stone-
Masonry.
lines as shown, which is better; then 5,6, will be the
centres of the upper quatre-foil. From the line 1,2, on
the same perpendicular as last, set down similar points as
at 7. These will be the centres for the lower sub-division
as shown. Next draw eA/and sub-divide by similar per¬
pendiculars, and where the lines intersect, as at 8, 9, will
be the centres for the upper sub-divisions. The lines thus
drawn will form a species of skeleton diagram, as shown on
the right side of fig. 67, which is called the element of the Element of
tracery, and is in fact the centre line of the mullion, as tracery,
shown by a, fig. 68. On each side of this, using always
Joints of
tracery.
the same centres for the same branches,
draw lines, showing the face (or what
the workmen call the nose) of the mul¬
lion, and answering to bc\ and then
others answering to the sides of the
mullion as de. Any other mouldings
upon their sides or faces may be
drawn in like manner. Put in the cusp-
ings as shown, and the tracery is com¬
plete. The practical stone-mason will
take care never to make a joint where
there is an angle of any sort, as the
point of a cusp. In all cases the joints
must tend to the centres of the circles from which they
are struck, and where the lines branch off in two directions,
the joints must not be in one line, but must tend in two,
or as many directions as there are branches, and each to
the centres of such respective branch. When the lines
are perpendicular, as at c d, and at the joint below h, the
joints are horizontal. A close inspection of fig. 67, where
they are carefully drawn, will elucidate the matter more
than any number of words can do. Our readers would
scarcely believe that the elaborate west window at York
is entirely set out on this principle ; and so is the still more
remarkable instance, the eastern window at Carlisle, which
is composed of 86 pieces of stone, and the design for
which is drawn from 263 centres. On no account should Cramps,
iron be used as cramps or dowels in Gothic work, as it rusts dowels> &c‘
and breaks pieces out of the stone. The best material is
slate run with the Portland cement. Lead is often used;
but any metal will expand and contract with heat and
cold, and its use is much better avoided altogether. All
the upper construction of windows and doors, and of aisle Relieving
arches, should be protected from superincumbent pressure arches,
by strong relieving arches above the labels (see fig. 67),
which should be worked in with the ordinary masonry of the
walls, and so set that the weight above should not press on
the fair work, in which case the joints of the tracery, &c.,
will sometimes flush or break out.
137. Mediaeval vaults differ much from those before yauiting.
described, principally that the crowns ab, cd, are not level,
as shown in fig. 52, but all have a slight curve or spring,
and the filling-in between them also is slightly curved, so as
to partake in some degree
of the character of the
dome as well as of the
groined arch. Bearing
this carefully in mind,
and setting the lines out
thus on the sections, the
rules we have given for
finding the various lines
for groins (120-125) will
apply as well to_Gothic
groins as to those of ordi-
Fig. 69.
nary character ; the principle of working from plan, section,
and stretch-out being the same, though for the most part
the ribs in early vaulting are not true segments of ellipses,
but approximations drawn by the compasses. The triumph
of mediaeval stone-masonry, however, is that species of
STONE-MASONRY.
735
Artificial groin known as fan vaulting. This is unlike that of any
Stones, other age or time. The roofs of King’s College Chapel,
■v—'' Cambridge, and of Henry VII.’s Chapel at Westminster,
Fan vault- are eminent examples. It is impossible in our limited space
ing. to give demonstrations of them, and we must refer our
readers to the admirable treatises on the subject by Professor
Willis, published in the first volume of the Transactions of
the Institute of British Architects. The filling-in between
the ribs of mediaeval groins is generally of clunch or some
soft stone, over which some concrete is placed in such man¬
ner as to bind all together, and to resist the thrust.
Spires, 138. The bold and beautiful termination to mediaeval
towers, which the French call fleches and we call spires,
is another proof of the skill of the mediaeval masons.
These are generally octagonal, and rise partly from the
walls of the tower and partly from arches thrown angle-
wise from wall to wall, to cut off the corners, as it were,
and afford a springing to the spire. The wonder of these
constructions is their extreme thinness and lightness. The
top of the spire at Salisbury is 411 feet from the ground,
of which 207 is taken up by the tower, leaving, of course,
204 feet for the height of the spire itself; this is only 9
inches thick at the bottom, diminishing to 7 inches, or on
an average only about the three-hundredth part of its
height. It has been attempted to show mathematically
that the joints of a spire would be stronger if at right
angles to its face ; but they would then slope inwards and
hold the wet, which in sudden frosts would do most serious
injury ; practically, therefore, it is found best to lay the
courses on a level bed. They should, however, be fre¬
quently dowelled and cramped together, but not with
metal, as above stated.
VI.—ON ARTIFICIAL STONES, AND ON THE INDURATION OF
SOFT STONES.
Cements 139. The great expense of obtaining and working Port-
and terra land has driven our masons into the use of the softer free-
cottas. stones. These (as has before been described, sec. 19, &c.),
are liable to rapid decay from the action of frost and w'et,
and in towns from the action of the sulphurous acid in the
coal-smoke. To avoid these inconveniences several con¬
trivances have been resorted to within the last century to
obtain a cheap and durable material in which to execute
external architectural ornament; or to invent some process
by which soft stones may be so protected by an outer coat
of impervious matter as to throw off the wet; or may be so
indurated as to resist the ordinary wear to which Portland
or the harder stones may be subjected. The earliest at¬
tempts were to manufacture a hard hydraulic cement, which
might be modelled with the tool, or cast into moulds. The
earliest use of this is said to have been by the Adam’s, it suit¬
ing very well w ith the low relief of their style of ornamenta¬
tion. (For an account of cements, see this article, sec. 22, ut
supra.) Another method, which has been frequently tried
with success, but seems too expensive to come into general
use, was to model the ornaments in good plastic clay, as
colourless as possible, and burn them in kilns. The best
Coade’s known of these systems was that called Coade’s artificial
artificial stone, the manufactory of which, however, is now discon¬
tinued. (For an account of this species of manufacture, see
Pottery, Terra Cotta, &c.) A method, however, which
seems to bid fair to excel them all in beauty, cheapness,
fansome s. and durability is that patented by Mr Ransome of Ipswich.
It appears, the idea suggested itself to him as long back as
1844, that if he could mix sand, or pounded flint with
anything that would make a sort of fluid glass, and stick it
together, as it were, in a pasty state, it might be pressed into
moulds, and when dry it would form a sort of strong glass.
After a variety of experiments, and trying to accomplish his
object through a number of changing theories, he at length
succeeded in the following process. He first obtains a Artificial
strong caustic alkali, w'hich is purified by a most ingenious Stones,
process. This is made, by the assistance of steam and heat,
to act upon some broken flints, which it does, and the alka¬
line solution is then drawn off and evaporated till it becomes
the thickness of treacle. One part of this is mixed with
ten parts of sand, one of flint, and one of clay. The whole
is kneaded up till like putty, so as to be readily pressed
into moulds, and so as to take the sharpest forms. Our
space will not permit us to give the full details; but it may
suffice to say that the objects, after being dried in close
stoves, are then submitted to a strong red-heat in a kiln
like that of a potter, which drives off all the alkaline
and other chemical agents in the process, and leaves the
granules of the sand and flint enveloped in, and, as it were,
stuck together by a sort of glass. Time alone, however,
can only ultimately show the results.. At present the ma¬
terial seems of beautiful colour, texture, and sharpness ; and
unless some unknown or unforeseen chemical agent should
act upon it, Ransome’s stone appears to be indestructible.
140. The rendering soft stones hard, and the protecting induration
the surfaces from the weather when wrorked and set, has of stone,
been the subject of great investigation lately. The idea of
the latter seems to have originated with the late well-
known John Sylvester, who tried the method of washing Sylvester’s,
over the faces of stone walls with first a solution of soap
and then of alum. Another method was that of washing
with what was called water-glass, or silicate of potash, both Water-
of which are said to have failed. The next idea was toglass-
soak the stone, or in some way to cause the surface to im¬
bibe a quantity of oily or fatty matters to throw off the Oleaginous
wet, as well as to harden the stone itself. The first patent Processes-
was taken out by Mr Hutchison, at Tunbridge Wells, inHutchi-
1847, and was applied to the new sandstone there. Thesori,s*
stones, when worked, were boiled in a solution of resin,
turpentine, wax, oil, &c., and sometimes, we believe, pitch,
till they were impregnated a sufficient depth from the
surface. In 1851 Mr Barrett took out a patent something Barrett’s,
like the preceding, but far more elaborate; in fact, too long
to be described in our pages. The main elements, how¬
ever, were resins, fats, and tallows, some of which were
mixed with gutta-percha, unslacked lime, copperas, and a
number of other ingredients. In April 1856 Mr Daines took Baines’s,
out a patent, not so much to indurate stone, but to preserve
stone, or cement walls from damp and efflorescence. His
process was to apply, first, a solution of sulphate of zinc, or
solution of alum, to the wall, and then a composition of
sulphur dissolved in oil. In the same year, and in the
next month, Mr Page took out a patent for a similar pur- Page’s,
pose ; his material was wax dissolved in coal-tar, naphtha,
or, for more delicate work, in camphine. We are in¬
formed the manufacture of the first of these patents is dis¬
continued, but not from any failure of process. Of the
others it is impossible to say much, as so little time has
elapsed since they commenced, and as early experiments in
all manufactures often fail; judging, however, on the grounds
expressed as to mastic (37, supra), we should fear they
would fail from a like cause, especially as such very volatile
media as naphtha, camphine, &c., are used. Mr Ransome’s, Ransome’s.
however, seems to promise better. His is deduced from
his experiments on the artificial stone. It consists of treat¬
ing the surface of the stone first with a solution of silicate
of potash or soda, and then with a solution of the chloride
of barium, or chloride of calcium, by which means an in¬
soluble silicate, either of barium or lime, is deposited in the
pores of the stone. The most extraordinary results, how¬
ever, are promised by Mr Szerelmey’s process. The author Szerel-
of this article has been informed by that gentleman that itmey’s.
will not only entirely protect the surface of stone or brick
or cement, but of iron ; as a proof, he states that an anchor
coated with it was sunk in the sea many months, and raised
736 S T O
Storace again without trace of oxidation. As his process is a pro-
11 found secret, and his experiments are now in progress, it is
v Story. ^ impossible to pronounce an opinion on the subject.
V'—The principal works on Stone-Masonry are as follows :—
Foreign. Jousse de la Fleche, Secrets d’Architecture, fol. 1642.
Bosse, La Pralign(l du Trait pour la Coupe des Pierres, fol. 1643.
Francois Derrand, Des Traits et Coupe des Voutes, fol. 1643.
De la Rue, Traitt de la Coupe des Pierres, fol. 1728. Frezier, Traitt
de Stfaeotomie, 4to, 1737-57 ; Elements de Stdreotomie, 1759. Simo-
nin et Delagardette, Traite de la Coupe des Pierres, 4to, 1792.
Douliot, Traite Speciale du Coupe des Pierres, 4to, 1825. Vorle-
gellatter, per Maurer, fol. 1835. Adhemar, Traite de la Coupe des
S T O
Pierres, fol. 1836-40. Normand, Epures d'Escaliers en Pierre, 4to, Story.
1838. Le Roy, TraitS de Geometric Descriptive, 4to, 1850. Claudel ^
et Laroque, Maqonnerie Pratique, 8vo, no date. Besides these see
the article Ma^nnerie in the various Encyclopedies, and the famous
general treatise by Rondelet, VArt de Bien Bdtir, and the older
work of De L’Orme, fol. 1643.
In English.—Moxon, Mechanick Exercises, 4to, 1677-93, 1700.
Batty Langley, Ancient Masonry, fol. 1736. Nicholson, Practical
Builder, 4to, 1823, &c.; Practical Treatise on Masonry, 8vo, 1828;
Guide to Railway Masonry, 8vo, 1839-46. Practical Masonry, Brick¬
laying, &c., 4to, 1830. Dobson, Rudimentary Treatise on Masonry,
4to, 1849-56. Besides the valuable articles in Gwilt’s well-known
Dictionary of Architecture, and Cresy’s on Engineering. (a. a.)
STORACE, Stefano, a very popular English com¬
poser in the latter part of the 18th century, was born at
London in 1763. His father, a Neapolitan, performed for
many years as a contrabassist at the King’s Theatre in
London, and married a Miss Trusler of Bath. The family
name is said to have been really Sorace, and not Storace.
Stephen, under his father’s instructions, acquired consider¬
able command of the violin when only ten years old. His
father then sent him to study the violin, the harpsichord,
and counterpoint, in the conservatory of Sant’ Onofrio, at
Naples. On leaving the conservatory, he visited different
Italian cities, and then proceeded to Vienna. His sister,
Anna Selina Storace, a pupil of Sacchini, travelled with him.
She had become one of the best singers of the day, and had
been received with great applause at several theatres in
Italy. In 1784, the Emperor of Germany engaged her for
the Imperial Italian Theatre, at L.500 for the season.
Storace composed an opera, Gli Equivoci, for that theatre.
He and his sister returned to England in March 1787, and
Signora Storace was instantly engaged for the King’s
Theatre, where she appeared on the 24th of that month as
Gelinda, in Paisiello’s opera, Gli Schiavi per Amove. Her
brother becoming disgusted with the intrigues of the theatre,
retired to Bath, and devoted himself to drawing, in which
he had considerable skill. Returning to London in 1788,
he brought out, at Drury Lane, Dittersdorf’s music to The
Doctor and Apothecary, an opera, translated and adapted
by Mr John Cobb. On 24th November, 1789, he pro¬
duced his first English opera, The Haunted Tower, written
by Mr Cobb. This had a run of fifty nights the first
season, and for many years remained a favourite opera. In
1790, Storace produced No Song no Supper, written by
Prince Hoare, which also had great success. On 1st
January 1791, the Spanish composer Martin’s celebrated
opera La Cosa Hara, altered by Mr Cobb, was brought
out by Storace (who added to it some music of his own),
under the name of The Siege of Belgrade. It had a run of
sixty nights the first season. In the same year, Ihe Cave
of Trophonius, translated by Prince Hoare, with music
selected by Storace from Salieri’s opera, did not succeed.
On 26th November 1792, the opera of The Pirates, com¬
posed by Storace, and the scenery from drawings made by
him at Naples, was performed with great success. His next
operas were—Dido; The Prize; The Glorious First of
June; The Cherokee ; Lodoisha, the music from Kreutzer
and Cherubini; The Three and the Deuce; My Grand¬
mother ; The Iron Chest; and the opera of Mahmoud, un¬
finished at the time of his death, on 19th March 1796.
This last opera was completed by Michael Kelly and Sig¬
nora Storace, and performed on 30th March 1796, for the
benefit of Storace’s widow and child. Storace married a
daughter of Mr Hall, the engraver. His sister died in
1814. Among Storace’s contemporaries, who distinguished
themselves as composers of English operas, were Shield,
Arnold, Hook, Dibdin, Mazzinghi, and Thomas and Wil¬
liam Linley. (g. f. g.)
STORNOWAY. See Lewis.
STORY, Joseph, an eminent American judge, pro¬
fessor of law, and jurist, was born 18th September 1779,
at Marblehead, a small fishing town in the county of Essex
and state of Massachusetts. His father had been a sur¬
geon in the army, and had served with General Washing¬
ton, but had afterwards retired, and was in good practice in
Marblehead and the adjacent towns. As a boy, he was
remarkably intelligent and studious, and his precocious
talents were developed by his becoming early a favourite
of the village barber, and being permitted to frequent the
shop, and listen to the interesting miscellaneous talk of the
host and his customers, thereby receiving impressions which
continued through life. At the age of fifteen, Joseph, after
showing unusual firmness and determination in preparing
himself for matriculation, was entered at Harvard College,
where he was a fellow-pupil with the Rev. Dr Channing,
the distinguished divine and philanthropist, and his imme¬
diate chum was the Rev. Dr Tuckerman. Though he had
been brought up as a Calvinist, he became, during his col¬
lege career, a Unitarian, a faith which he continued through¬
out his life to hold ; while, at the same time, the prevailing
temper of his mind was a settled tolerance of every other
creed. He was not only in youth, but throughout his life,
more or less inclined to poetry, and wrote many verses;
but these seldom, if ever, attained mediocrity ; and it does not
appear that he gave way to this habit, except at leisure hours,
and as a variety to graver studies. His career at college was
very distinguished. The constitution of his mind, which was
eminently legal, no doubt insensibly impelled him towards
the law. On leaving college, he entered the office of Mr
Sawell, then a distinguished advocate at the Essex bar, and
a member of Congress. Though at first somewhat re¬
pelled by the dryness of legal authors, which presented so
great a contrast to the more elegant and various studies of
his youth, he soon conceived a great love for its principles
and a settled desire to master its details.
At the age of 22, Joseph Story was admitted to the
Essex bar, and opened his office at Salem. His progress
was not rapid, but sufficiently encouraging to admit of his
falling in love and soon marrying his first wife, whose early
death threw a gloom over this period of his life, which was,
however, dissipated by time, and, in 1808, he married again.
During his early career at the bar, he devoted much time
to the study of composition, and to poetry and declamation,
the practice of delivering annual orations, commemorative
of the Independence and other great events, offering attrac¬
tive opportunities to young American lawyers. He also
mixed in politics, and, in 1805, he became member for
Salem in the legislature of Massachusetts. Here he devel¬
oped his talent as a debater, and gained so great distinction
in the House that he was elected a member of Congress.
Having declined a re-election to Congress, in consequence
of an early disgust at the meanness and petty intrigues of
public life, and its incompatibility with success at the bar,
he returned to the Massachusetts legislature, and was elected
speaker of the House of Representatives. At this period,
his reputation for ability, and for frankness of character, had
gradually increased. During the same year, a vacancy
having occurred in the Supreme Court, the appointment.
S T 0
Story, after two successive refusals from other persons, was unex-
pectedly offered to him. At this period, his age was only
32 ; he was then making an income of upwards of L.1000
a year, and the salary of associate justice was under L.800
a year. He fully considered the subject, and after balancing
the advantages and disadvantages, he preferred the serenity
and dignity of the judicial office, to the rough and ready
warfare of the bar, and accepted the appointment.
Shortly before Mr Story’s appointment to the office of
associate justice of the Supreme Court, he had edited three
English law books, in general request in America, viz.,
Chitty on Bills of Exchange, Abbot on Shipping, and
Lawes on Assumpsit. He had not, however, as vet shown
that eminence as a scientific lawyer which he afterwards
attained. His cotemporaries no doubt gradually arrived at
the conclusion that he was peculiarly fitted for the office of
a judge. I hey observed, in all his judgments, a philoso¬
phical mind, well equipped with all the learning of his pro¬
fession, stored with details, as well as anxiously careful of
fiist principles. His acuteness was more than equalled by
his singular fertility in illustrations; and his judicial elo¬
quence, readiness, and urbanity of manner, soon led him to
be maiked out as the most able and popular judge of his
day. He was, however, no popularity-hunter, in the vul¬
gar sense of the word, but seemed always to be actuated by
a strong sense of duty, and was zealouslv attached to the
great principles of the American constitution. Marshall
was then the chief justice of the court—a thoroughly able
and upright judge and it was often said, that the same re¬
lations existed between him and Justice Story as existed
between Lord Mansfield and Mr Justice Buller. Story was
distinguished above all his contemporaries for the extent of
his reading and his familiarity with the English reports,
and indeed his interest in everything English extended far
beyond his own profession ; for he devoured, with unceas¬
ing interest, throughout his life, the English newspapers,
and was always well versed in their minutest details.
In 1829, eighteen years after Mr Justice Story’s ap¬
pointment as a judge, Mr Dane, who had long meditated
the foundation and endowment of a law professorship at
Harvard University, and had long had in his eye the pre¬
eminent qualifications of Mr Justice Story for such an office,
at last matured his plan, and offered him the appointment.
Though the salary was only about L.150, the duties were
not incompatible with the office of a judge, and Justice
Story readily accepted the office, having always felt a pecu¬
liar pleasure in imparting his own ample stores of informa¬
tion to others, especially to the young. He gradually in¬
creased his pupils from six to upwards of a hundred. It
was part of the conditions annexed to the office, that the
professor should write some legal works in four or five
volumes, on subjects which were left to some extent to his
own selection. These terms were probably in his eyes one
of the greatest attractions of the office, and he at once ap¬
plied himself to the preparation of his first work, which was
entitled, Commentaries on the Law of Bailments. The
subject was one which had not hitherto been fully devel¬
oped by any legal writer, Sir William Jones’s work, though
elegant and able, being somewhat slight in its treatment.
It also admitted of appropriate references to the civil law.
His great judicial experience was also greatly in his favour.
Ihe work, when completed, displayed an elegance, ability,
and copiousness of illustration, till then unknown in Ame¬
rica, and, with the exception of Blackstone’s Commentaries,
little known in England. All his contemporaries were
struck with its great merits, and these were also acknow¬
ledged in England. In a year and a half afterwards, viz.,
m 1833, his Commentaries on the Constitution of the
United States, in three volumes, were published. This
work, though, from its subject, not so familiar to English
lawyers, was conspicuous for the same merits as the pre-
VOL. XX.
S T 0
737
ceding. He immediately afterwards commenced his Con- Stothard.
Jlict^ of Laws, one of the works by which he is best known
to English lawyers. The subject had not been touched upon
by any writer on the law of England, which had, indeed,
always treated with contempt all other systems of jurispru¬
dence; and it was scarcely to be wondered that a work which
discussed in a liberal spirit, and with copious illustrations
from the continental jurists and American reports, till then
unknown even by name, was welcomed by all English
lawyers. I he next works followed in rapid succession,
all equally able and replete with learning ; his treatises on
Equity Jurisprudence, on Equity Pleadings, on Principal and
Agent, on Partnership, and on Bills of Exchange. While
some of the latter works were in preparation, successive
editions of the prior works, with large additions and im¬
provements, were published. The rapidity with which
these works were produced, while his duties, as a judge and
a professor of law, were at the same time conscientiously
performed, was the wonder of his contemporaries. At last,
under his untiring labours, his health broke down in 1842!
His physician recommended a visit to England, where his
great reputation as a jurist had now made his name familiar
to all the leading lawyers, and where he had acquired many
friends. Lord Brougham having heard of his probable
visit, had assembled the Lord Chancellor and many of the
leading judges to welcome his arrival; but, in the meantime,
his health had rallied, and the visit was postponed, never to
be resumed. He had, however, since the time of his be¬
coming an author, corresponded with many of the English
judges, particularly Lord Stowell. It was a subject of
regret that Mr Justice Story had not been appointed chief
of his court on the death of Chief-Justice Marshall, a
station to which his merits entitled him: his claims were
ignored owing to his constitutional views being opposed to
that of the then President of the United States. He died
somewhat suddenly on the 10th of September 1845, at the
age of sixty-six.
Justice Story has rendered a great service to the law of
England, by introducing into the text-books a more philo¬
sophical spirit, and also by liberalising the minds of his
readers with ample references to the foreign jurists. He
was the means, also, of introducing to English lawyers what
little they knew of Scotch law by his frequent references
to Bell and Erskine. His treatises are now accepted as
standard authorities, and stand side by side with, and in
some cases superior to, the best English works. It is im¬
possible to look upon his life without admiration for his
indefatigable industry, united, as it was, with great acuteness
and elegance of mind. He was universally beloved in
private life, and his death left a blank in American society.
He was eminent as a conversationalist; his appearance was
prepossessing, intelligence and refinement being at once
conspicuous in his countenance ; yet withal he was mild and
unassuming in manners. In every respect he is entitled to
be regarded as one of the worthies of America, (j. p—x.)
S I OTHARD, Charles Alfred, an ingenious anti¬
quarian draughtsman, son of Thomas Stothard the painter,
noticed in the next article, was born in London on the
5th of July 1786. After studying successively at the
Royal Academy, the Life Academy, and at the British
Institution, Pall Mall, he began, in 1810, his first historical
piece, “ The Death of Richard II. in Pomfret Castle.”
Having taken a strong interest from an early period in the
costumes of different ages and nations, he was induced to
publish the first part of a valuable work on the The Monu¬
mental Effigies of Great Britain in 1811. It is of great
value to the historical painter, as well as to the player, and
the work met with entire success. He was appointed his¬
torical draughtsman to the Society of Antiquaries, and was
deputed by that body to commence his visits to Bayeaux,
to make drawings of the fine old remains of ancient tapestry
5 A
738
S T O
Stove.
Stothard which had been preserved there, ktothard was made a
" Fellow of the Society cf Antiquaries in 1819. _ He subse¬
quently engaged in numerous journeyings, with the view
of illustrating the works of D. Lysons. When at Beer-
Ferrers, Stothard, while engaged in tracing a portrait from
one of the windows of the church, fell from a height of 10
feet and was killed on the spot. This occurred on the
27th of May 1821. Stothard’s widow and her brother
completed his Monumental Effigies, which was left un¬
finished at the time of his death. His biography has since
been written by his widow, now Mrs Bray, known as a
popular writer of novels and books of travel.
Stothard, Thomas, an English painter, was born in
London on the 17th of August 1755. He was originally
apprenticed to a pattern drawer of brocaded silk, but sub¬
sequently took to painting, and gained high repute by his
compositions for Bell’s British Poets and the Novelist's
Magazine. He was made a Royal Academician in 1794 ;
and became librarian to the Royal Academy in 1812. His
more important works were his “ Canterbury Pilgrims,”
his “Flitch of Bacon,” his “Fete Champetre,” and his
“ Wellington Shield.” He besides illustrated Boydell’s
Shakspeare, Roger’s Poems and Italy, and the Complete
Angler of Isaac Walton ; as well as having designed part
of the ceiling of the Signet Library in Edinburgh. His
compositions number in all upwards of 5000, some 3000 of
which have been engraved. He followed Mortimer some¬
what slavishly at the outset of his career, but when he came
to his maturity as a painter he displayed simplicity and grace
in a high degree. He died in London on the 21 th of April
1834. S His life was written in 1851 by his daughter-in-law.
He had a numerous family, of whom the most noted was
Charles Alfred, noticed in the previous article.
STOURBRIDGE, a market-town of England, Wor¬
cestershire, on the left bank of the Stour, 23 miles N. by E.
of Worcester, and 122 N.W. by W. of London. It is plea¬
santly situated on the slope of a hill; and as it consists, for
the most part, of well-built houses, and is somewhat ii i e-
gularly laid out, it has a picturesque appearance. The
river, which here divides Worcestershire from Staffordshire,
is crossed by a stone-bridge, from which the town derives
its name. Stourbridge contains a large market-house,
of modern erection, a neat brick parish church, and
several dissenting places of worship. T.he Free Gram¬
mar School, founded here by Edward VI. in 1551,
contained 44 scholars in 1854. This is one of the schools
to which Dr Johnson was sent in his youth. Stourbridge
has also an endowed national school and an infant school,
a theatre, and an extensive public library. Races are held
here annually. The clay of this town is much esteemed
for its excellence in resisting the action of fire; it is made
into crucibles, glass-house pots, and fire-bricks, and is ex
ported in large quantities. Glass, earthenware, and hardwar e,
are the principal manufactures of the town. A considei -
able trade is carried on, and is facilitated by the Sta ojc-
shire and Worcestershire Canal, which has a blanch to
Stourbridge, and by the railways which connect this town
with all the other parts of the kingdom. Pop. f84/.
STOURPORT, a market-town of England, in the
county and 10 miles N. by W. of Worcester, at the con¬
fluence of the Stour and the Severn; the latter river being
here crossed by an iron bridge of one arch. It is quite a
modern town, and is, for the most part, well built of brick.
It has several churches and schools, a savings bank, and
several benevolent institutions. Carpets and leather aie
made here, and there are an iron-foundry and a wool¬
spinning mill. A considerable trade is carried on in hops,
corn, apples, coal, &c. Pop. 2993.
STOVE (Saxon, Stqfa), a mechanical contrivance for
heating public buildings, private apartments, green-houses,
hot-houses, fruit-walls, &c. Under Heat, the communi-
S T O
cation and radiation have been fully explained. By the Stove,
former, the caloric is given from one object to another, and
communicated from particle to particle of the same object
by contact; by the latter, it emanates in straight lines,
through the air, from substance to substance, the emana¬
tions being absorbed by some bodies, and reflected by
others.
The power which objects possess of receiving and com¬
municating heat by the former of these modes, is termed
their conducting power ; by the latter, their radiating, their
absorbing, and reflecting power. Those which receive it
quickly by the former, also give it off quickly in the same
way ; and those which radiate powerfully also absorb power¬
fully ; of course they reflect little: accordingly the radi¬
ating and reflecting powers are opposed to each other.
Metals are good conductors ; stones, bricks, and porous bo¬
dies of a similar nature, are bad conductors. The radiat¬
ing, reflecting, and absorbing powers depend not so much
on the nature of the substance, as on the surface. Highly
polished surfaces radiate and absorb little, while dark and
rough ones radiate and absorb powerfully; of course, re¬
splendent surfaces are good reflectors.
When fuel is consumed with the view of heating apart¬
ments, the communication of heat depends entirely on the
manner in which it is consumed. In an open fire-place or
common grate, the heat thrown into the apartment is chief¬
ly that emitted by radiation and reflection ; the former com¬
ing directly from the fuel, and from the parts of the fire¬
place warmed by it; the latter being the radiated heat re¬
flected by the polished parts of the grate. The rays thus
thrown off, being absorbed by the objects in the room, then
communicate warmth to the atmosphere which it contains.
But part of the warmth must also be received by commu¬
nication ; for the walls adjoining the fire-place being heat¬
ed by contact, will likewise communicate caloric to the air
brought in contact with them ; and as it is expanded it will
ascend, and allow other particles to flow in, also to receive
their supply. This however is small in comparison to that
given to the apartment by radiation and reflection.
Much of the heat thus thrown into the room is carried
off, indeed may be said to be lost; for, owing to the manner
in which the fuel is consumed, a large supply of air is ne¬
cessary for the combustion, which, rushing in upon the fuel,
is itself, after acting on it, carried up the vent. Hence, to
warm apartments in this way, a great deal of fuel is re¬
quired. The quantity must depend very much on the form
of the fire-place, and on the materials of which it is con¬
structed.
The principle on which stoves operate is different. A
stove, however modified in form, is merely a fire-place en¬
closed on all sides ; the air necessary for the combustion
entering from below, and carried off, as in a common grate,
by a vent. Now, in this way of consuming fuel, the radia¬
tion is trifling in comparison to the communication by con¬
tact. Of course much must depend on the kind of stove
employed; but it is allowed, that by far the greater part of
the heat which the atmosphere of the room receives is that
given directly by communication ; for the air in contact with
the sides of the stove is heated, is expanded, and carried
upwards; and thus, by the constant flow of cool air on the
stove, the whole of that in the room is warmed. No doubt,
the stove being itself warm, must give off heat, not only by
contact, but also by radiation; and the proportion thus emit¬
ted must depend on the temperature and surface, as already
explained. But though heat is thus distributed, yet it must
be borne in mind, that it is chiefly by contact that the at¬
mosphere of the room is warmed ; and as the air is thus
easily heated, much less fuel is required than when it is
burned in an open fire-place. The necessary supply of air
is therefore not so great; and it is this which principally
causes the difference in our feelings when in a room warm-
S T 0 V E.
Stc ve.
^ ed by a stove, and by a grate; for in the latter instance,
not only have we the exhilarating influence excited by the
blaze of the fuel, but there is a more rapid renewal of air
through the apartment, and accordingly the atmosphere
has not the close unpleasant feeling which it has when
warmed by a stove.
The warming by stoves must therefore be conducted on
principles dift'erent from those adopted in the employment
of open fire-places. The general principle is, 1st, to em¬
ploy the fuel in the most effectual manner for heating the
external part of the stove, which is immediately efficient in
warming the contiguous air, chiefly by contact; and, 2d,
to keep within the room the air thus warmed, at least as
much as is consistent with wholesomeness and cleanliness.
It would occupy a volume to describe the immense va¬
riety of stoves which ingenuity has constructed. We shall
content ourselves with giving a specimen of the two chief
classes into which they may be distinguished.
1 he air of a room may be equally warmed by applying
it either to the surface of a small stove made very hot, or
to the surface of a much larger stove more moderately heat¬
ed. The first kind is chiefly used in Holland, Flanders,
and the milder climates of Germany and Poland. The last
are used in the frozen climates of Russia and Sweden. The
first are generally made of cast-iron, the last partly of iron
and partly of brick-work.
Fig. 1 represents a small German stove, fully sufficient
for warming a room of 24 feet by 18. The
base is about three feet broad and fourteen
inches deep, that is, from back to front,
and six or seven feet high. The decora¬
tion is in the fashion of that country; but
the operative structure of it will admit of
any style of ornament. A is the fire-place,
and the wood or charred coal is laid on the
bottom, which has no bars. Bars would
admit the air too freely among the fuel,
and would both consume it too fast and
raise too great a heat. That no heat may
be uselessly expended, the sole of the
fire-place and the whole bottom of the
stove is raised an inch or two above the
floor of the room, and the air is therefore warmed by it
in succession, and rises upwards. For the same reason,
the back of the stove is not in contact with the wall of the
room, or of the niche in which it is placed. The fire¬
place is shut up by a door which fits closely to its case, and
has a small wicket at the bottom, whose aperture is re¬
gulated by a sliding plate, so as to admit no more air than
what suffices for slowly consuming the fuel. The flame and
heated air rise to the top of the fire-place, three or four
inches above the arch or mantle-piece, and get out laterally
by two narrow passages B, B, immediately below the top-
plate of the base. The current bends downward on each
side, passes at C, C, under the partition-plates which divide
the two side-chambers, and then rises upwards through the
outer division of each, and passes through narrow slits D,
D, in the top-plate, and from thence along the two hollow
piers, E, E. The two lateral currents unite at the top of
the arch, and go through the single passage F into the
larger hollow behind the escutcheon G. From this place
it either goes straight upwards into the vent in the wall by
a pipe on the top of the stove, or it goes into the wall be¬
hind by a pipe inserted in the back of the stove. The pro¬
priety of this construction is very obvious. The current of
hot air is applied to the exterior of the stove everywhere
except in the two side-chambers of the base, where the par¬
tition-plates form one side of the canal. Even this might
be avoided by making each of these side-chambers a de¬
tached hollow pillar. But this would greatly increase the
trouble of construction and joining together, and is by no
739
means necessary. The arch H has a graceful appearance,
and affords a very warm situation for any thing that requires
it, such as a drink in a sick person’s bed-chamber, &c. Per¬
sons of a certain class use thisqdace for keeping a dish warm ;
nay, the lower part of the arch is frequently occupied by an
enclosed chamber, where the heat rises high enough even
for dressing victuals, as will be easily imagined when w e re¬
flect that the sole of it is the roof of the fire-place.
The stove now described is supplied with fuel and with
air by the front door opening into the room. That there
may be space for fuel, this middle part projects a few inches
before the two side-chambers. These last, with the whole
upper part of the stove, are not more than ten inches deep.
The passages therefore from the fire-place are towards the
back of it; so that if we have a mind to see the fire, which
is always cheerful, the door may be thrown open, and there
is no danger of the smoke coming out after the current has
once warmed the upper part of the stove. When the stove
is of such dimensions that the base is about two feet and a
half or three feet high, the fire- place may be furnished with
a small grate in the British style. If the door is so hung
that it can not only be thrown back, but lifted off its hinges,
we have a stove-grate of the completest kind, fully ade¬
quate, in our mild climate, to warm a handsome apart¬
ment, even with an open fire; and when we hang on the
door, and shut up the fire-place, a stove of the dimen¬
sions already given is almost too much for a large drawing¬
room. 6
A very simple form of stove is that represented in the an¬
nexed cut. It consists of a square box of iron, A B C D,
resting on feet, and having a pro¬
jecting hearth-plate at E. FF is Fig. 2.
an inner box projecting into the
outer one. G is the chimney.
The fuel is burned at A; and
the flame passes to the chimney
around the inner box, which may
be used as an oven for cooking.
At H there is a large door for the
introduction of the fuel, in which
there is also a smaller door. Both H
of these are generally kept shut / \
when the furnace is in use; but ^ '
when a greater heat is required, the smaller door is opened.
1 he effect of stoves as now described may be greatly in¬
creased, as is frequently done, by having the mouth com¬
municating with or joined to an opening of the same di¬
mensions, formed in the wall; and the door is in this case
on the other side of the wall, in an antechamber or lobby.
In some places the apartments are disposed round a spaci¬
ous lobby, in which the doors of all the stoves are situated,
and through which the fuel and air necessary for the com¬
bustion are supplied. But this method, though it warms
the apartment, is very unfavourable to health and cheerful¬
ness ; for the same air confined and repeatedly breathed, and
adulterated with the volatile emanations of the room, loses
the refreshing quality which is so desirable, and even so
necessary for health.
Something of this kind, it has been already mentioned,
is unavoidable in all rooms warmed by stoves; and the hot¬
ter the surface of the stove, the more and more unpleasant
does the air in it become; because, in addition to the slight
renewal of air consequent on their use, when the surface be¬
comes very hot, the impurities constantly floating in the
atmosphere are decomposed, and emit offensive effluvia.
The stove already described is almost always made of
metal, and this objection applies particularly to it; hence
the necessity of being attentive when cleaning it outside,
to avoid the contact of greasy or oleaginous matter, which is
so easily decomposed by heat, and gives off offensive and
deleterious vapours.
Stove.
740
STOVE.
Stove. The objections stated to, the stoves as now described,
have given rise to the use of those constructed of brick-work,
or other materials of a similar nature. These are much
used in Flanders, Holland, and Germany, where they are
made of the most elegant forms, and finely decorated; but
it is evident that they cannot be so effectual, nor equally
warm a room with the same expense of fuel; earthen ware
being inferior to metal in its conducting power. In addi¬
tion to this, they are liable to a very great objection, the
difficulty of preventing their cracking when heated; for
different parts of the stove being of different heats, they ex¬
pand unequally; and no cement can be expected to with¬
stand this, especially when we recollect, that the heat which
causes the baked earthen ware to expand, causes a contrac¬
tion of the clay or cement with which the parts of the stove
are joined together. Accordingly stoves of this kind do
not stand long without cracking, even when strengthened
by iron hoops and cramps judiciously disposed within them;
nor does hooping them externally prevent it. When a
crack is thus occasioned, it is not only unsightly, but may
be dangerous, from its allowing the vitiated air to escape
into the apartment.
For these and other reasons, we can scarcely hope to
make stoves of brick-work or pottery which shall bear the
necessary heat without cracking ; and their use must there¬
fore be confined to cases where very moderate heat is suf¬
ficient. We need not describe their construction. It is
evident that it should be more simple than that of iron
stoves ; and we imagine, that in the very few cases in which
they are likely to be employed in this country, a single
fire-place, and an arch over it, divided by a partition or
two of thin tile to lengthen the flue, will be quite enough.
If the stove is made in whole or in part of potter’s ware,
a base for the fire-place, with an urn, column, obelisk, or
pyramid above it, for increasing the surface, will also be
sufficient. The failure commonly happens at the joinings,
where the different pieces of a different heat, and perhaps
of a different baking, are apt to expand unequally, and by
their working on each other, one of them must give way.
Instead of making the joints close and using any cement,
the upper piece should therefore stand in a groove formed
in the undermost, having a little powdered chalk or clay
sprinkled over it, which will effectually prevent the passage
of any air; and room being thus given for the unequal ex¬
pansion, the joint remains entire. This may be considered
as a general direction for all furnace-work, where it is in
vain to attempt to hinder the mutual working of the parts.
When fitted up with these precautions, the brick or pot¬
tery stoves are incomparably more sweet and pleasant than
the iron ones.
But in the intense colds of Russia and Sweden, or even
for very large rooms in this kingdom, stoves of these small
dimensions are not sufficiently powerful; and we must fol¬
low the practice of those countries where they are made of
great size, and very moderately heated. It is needless
to describe their external form, which may be varied at
pleasure. We shall only enlarge a little on the peculia¬
rities connected with the general principle of their con¬
struction.
The stove is intended as a sort of magazine, in which a
great quantity of heat may be quickly accumulated, to be af¬
terwards slowly communicated to the apartment. The stove
is therefore built extremely massive, and is found to be more
powerful when coated with clay as wet as can be made to hang
together. We imagine the reason of this to be, that very wet
clay, and more particularly stucco, must become exceedingly
porous when dry, and therefore a very slow conductor of heat.
Instead of sticking on the glazed tiles with no more clay or
stucco than is sufficient to attach them, each tile has at its
back a sort of box, baked in one piece, about two or three
inches deep. It is represented in fig. 3. This is filled with
mortar, and then stuck on the brick-work of the stove, which Stove,
has a great number of iron pins or hooks driven into the joints,
which may sink into this clay and
keep it firmly attached when dry. Fig. 3.
This coating, with the massive
brick-work, forms a great mass of
matter to be heated by the fuel.
The lowest chamber, which is the
fire-place, is somewhat wider, and
considerably thicker than the stories
above, which are merely flues. When the fire-place is
finished, and about to be arched over, a flat iron bar of
small thickness is laid along the top of the side-wall on
both sides, a set of finishing bricks being moulded on pur¬
pose, with a notch to receive the iron bar. Cross bars are
laid over these, one at each end and one or two between,
having a bit turned down at the ends, which takes hold of
the longitudinal bars, and keeps them from being thrust
outwards either by the pressure of the arch or by the
swelling in consequence of the heat. In fig. 4, A is the
cross section of one of the long
bars, and BC is part of one of Fig. 4.
the cross bars, and CD is the  
clench which confines the bar A. 1
This precaution is chiefly ne¬
cessary, because the contraction
of the stove upwards obliges the
walls of the other stories to bear
a little on the arch of the fire¬
place. The building above is kept together in like manner
by other courses of iron bars at every second return of
the flue. The top of the stove is finished by a pretty
thick covering of brick-work. The last passage for the
air has a ring lining its upper extremity, and projecting
an inch or two above it. The flat round it is covered
with sand. When we would stop this passage, a cover
shaped like a basin or cover for dishes at table is whelmed
over it. The rim of this, resting on the sand, effectually
preverifcs all air from coming through and getting up the
vent. Access is had to this damper by a door which can
be shut tight enough to prevent the heated air of the room
from wasting itself up the vent. When the room is too
warm, it may be very rapidly cooled by opening this door.
The warm air rushes up with great rapidity, and is replaced
by cool air from without.
In a stove of this kind the fire is kindled early in the
morning, after which the stove-door is shut, and the air-
aperture belowr left open for some time to blow it up ; but
in the course of a short time, to prevent the too rapid con¬
sumption of the fuel, the fire-door is opened, by which the
draught is checked. In this way the combustion is allowed to
go on, and the materials of the stove become warmed, after
which the air-passages are shut, so as to prevent any abstrac¬
tion of heat by the current that would otherwise be occa¬
sioned. The stove thus becomes a great mass of heated
matter, which is gradually pouring warmth into the apart¬
ment during the whole of the day ; and as the temperature
ot the surface never becomes very high, the impurities in
the atmosphere are not decomposed, and consequently it
is free from those offensive effluvia unavoidable when metal
stoves are used. One precaution, however, is necessary in
the management of these stoves, which does not apply to
the metal ones ; we must take care that when the air-
apertures are closed, there is no back-draught to carry the
products of combustion into the apartment, which might
be attended with fatal consequences. These being almost
free from smoke, give little or no warning of their pre¬
sence, and when inhaled for some time, produce giddiness
and lassitude, and in some cases a dangerous state of in¬
sensibility. Hence the necessity of allowing the fire to
be burned down, or nearly so, before closing the air-apei-
STOVE.
Stove.
tures. Should the escape of the noxious gases into the
■" room be suspected, the furnace-door and air-apertures must
be opened, and a draught established through the stove,
by kindling some wood shavings in it, the door and win¬
dows of the room being at the same time thrown open.
This attention to back-draught is of course more necessary
when charcoal or coke is used instead of coal, the products
ot combustion being then entirely free from smoke. When
coal is used in stoves, the vent-tubes are apt to become
choked with soot; but this may in a great measure be pre¬
vented by giving for a short time every day a brisk draught,
by which the soot will be burned.
To prevent the injurious or disagreeable effects of the
first kind of stoves, and at the same time to secure their ad¬
vantages, numerous modifications have been proposed, not
only with the view of preventing the too great heat of the ex¬
ternal surface, but also of avoiding unnecessary expenditure
of fuel. Perhaps the most important of these is Arnott's
stove; the principle of which consists in allowing the fuel to
burn very slowly, the admission of air for the combustion
being regulated by an adjustment connected with the
stove, and influenced by the degree of heat produced. Nu¬
merous forms and modifications of this stove are now in
use, but in their general structure they are the same. The
stove consists of a square or cylindrical box of iron, gene¬
rally lined inside with a thick layer of fire-clay, and hav¬
ing a grating near the bottom, on which the fuel is burned;
or the fuel may be contained in a small fire-box within the
stove. Sometimes the fuel is burned within a hollow cy¬
linder of fire-clay, in which case the stove is not lined with
it. There is an ash-pit below for the reception of the ashes,
and the products of the combustion are, as usual, carried off
by a vent.
The principal feature of this stove is the contrivance by
which the air is admitted for the combustion. When the
stove-door or ash-pit door is open, the combustion is lively,
and the fuel is soon consumed; but when these are shut,
and they ought to be so made as to shut quite close, then
air must be admitted otherwise, and this is done by the air-
tube, furnished, as already stated, with a regulator.
The annexed figure represents the stove of its simplest
form. A BCD is the outer casing of
iron, in which there is the fire-box E,
with its grating. Over the fire-box
there is a dome, £, with a funnel to car¬
ry the products of combustion into the
chimney ; h is the stove-door, and g
is the thermometer regulator, or adjust¬
ment by which the air is admitted for
combustion. A great variety of these
regulators has been described. Per¬
haps the best of these is represented
by the annexed cut. ABC is a glass tube, shut at A, con
taining air from A to B, and filled
with mercury from B to C. On the
mercury at C is placed a float, from
which there proceeds an upright rod
D, kept steady by passing through a
support at H. From this upright
wire there descends another, FGH,
terminated by the plate-valve F. LE
is the air-tube of the stove. When
the heat within is great, the air in
the shut limb of the regulator at A
is expanded, and forces up the mer¬
cury at C, raising the rods and plate-valve F, and thus
bringing it near to, or in contact with, the mouth of the
tube, by which more or less air is admitted to the stove,
according to the heat within. If the combustion is pro¬
ceeding too slowly, then the air in the tube A is not much
expanded, consequently air is allowed to enter the stove more
741
Fig. 5.
Fig. 6
Da
Fig. 7.
f
c
b 
Fig. 8.
freely; but when, owing to this, the combustion becomes
lively, and the temperature too high, then, by the elevation
of the plate-valve, air enters in smaller quantity, and the
temperature is moderated. Instead of the flat plate a coni¬
cal valve is sometimes used, which, passing more or less into
the mouth of the tube, allows the passage of less or more
air; and sometimes this contrivance is re¬
sorted to. ed is the wire raised by the move¬
ment of the mercury; is a plate hung on
an axis within the air-tube, and acting like
a throttle-valve. When the edge of the
plate is turned to the current, air is admit¬
ted freely; but when the heat becomes
high, then the mercury rises and makes the
plate revolve, by which more and more of
the area of the tube is shut, and consequently less and less
air is admitted. Perhaps the simplest of these regulators
is that here represented, abc is a
bent tube shut at a, where it contains
air, and open at c, where it is cup¬
shaped. The bent part at b is occu¬
pied by mercury. From c there pro¬
ceeds a bent tube to supply air to the
stove. When the heat within is great,
the air in a is expanded, and forces the
mercury up in c, and thus, bringing it
in contact with the mouth, prevents the
free admission of air to the stove. Nu-
meious other contrivances of a similar nature have been
recommended, all acting in the same way. Instead of these,
the admission of air is sometimes regulated by a semicircular
slide over the mouth of the air-tube, which may be placed
so as to admit to the stove a greater or smaller quantity, as
occasion requires.
The principle on which this stove operates, whatever
modification of it may be used, is merely the slow combus-
tion of the fuel, by which the stove itself is warmed; and
there is thus a reservoir of heat to be communicated to the
air in the apartment. As the quantity of fuel consumed is
small, there is no necessity for frequent supply. When one
of the ordinary dimensions for a room is in use, it will re¬
quire to be supplied morning and evening, supposing that
it is kept constantly burning, and the ashes removed once
a day. These, instead of falling into the ash-pit, may be re¬
ceived in a box placed there for the purpose, which is taken
out and emptied, so as to avoid dust in the apartment.
The quantity of fuel consumed must of course depend
on circumstances. During the severe winter of 1836-37,
Dr Arnott kept his library at a temperature varying from
60° to 63° of Fahrenheit, by about six pounds of coal a
day; which, supposing the coal to be twenty shillings per
ton, is at the daily expense of less than a penny.
Though the Arnott stove answers well the purpose for
which it is intended, that is, economy of fuel, for most un¬
doubtedly a room may be kept warm at a very moderate
expense, yet it is liable to the objection already stated
with regard to the unpleasant feeling consequent on the
use of all stoves of the kind, and indeed with it more than
others; for, owing to the very slight expenditure of fuel,
there is little or no change in the atmosphere. It is gene¬
rally allowed that a pound of coal on an average requires
about 150 cubic feet of air for combustion; but as part of the
air passes off without being acted on, 200 may be allowed,
and this is a large allowance where the combustion is going
on so slowly as in the stove. Now suppose the apartment
in which the stove is placed to be fifteen feet long by twelve
wide and eleven in height, its cubic contents are 19^0
feet; and suppose six pounds of coal per day to be the
consumption, each pound requiring about 200, that is in
all 1200 feet of air for combustion. This quantity must
pass through the stove and be carried off by the vent, so
Stove.
742
STOVE.
Stove.
that in the course of twenty-four hours the atmosphere of
the apartment is not once completely changed, and conse¬
quently renewed, by the direct influence of the fire. Hence
it is that the apartment is so easily warmed; but it is this
which necessarily renders it so unpleasant.
These stoves, however, fell out of use on account of an¬
other circumstance. Our readers will see the whole of the
action of the self-regulator was due to the expansion and
contraction of the mercury in the tube ABC, fig. 6; but
mercury is a very volatile substance, and the constant heat
of the stoves caused a daily loss of mercury, and consequent
imperfection in the action of the regulators. This was
attempted to be remedied by tightening the collar at D ;
but the resistance thus offered to the use of the float by the
expansion of the volume of the mercury frequently caused
the tube to burst, and scattered its contents about the room.
The most valuable feature of the Arnott stove, the making
the fire-box itself of fire-clay, however, is still in frequent
use in the modern German stoves.
The stoves now described answer for small apartments.
When the place to be heated is large, or when several
apartments in the same building are to be warmed, a dif¬
ferent kind is used. The heat in these cases is in general
not communicated to the apartment or'apartments by the
direct influence of the stove, but by air heated by its ex¬
ternal surface (of course not brought into contact with the
fuel), and then conveyed by tubes or otherwise to the places
to be warmed, on the principle already illustrated, that
when heated it expands and ascends, and consequently
rushes along the tubes, the supply being kept up by the
constant flow of cold air upon the hot sides of the stove.
Stoves for this purpose are made of iron or of brick-work,
and sometimes of both. Fig. 9 represents a cast-metal
stove of this kind. It may be considered as a double stove ;
an outer case, and a furnace or inner stove. Ihe fuel is
burned in the inner stove, and the smoke produced during
the process of combustion is carried off by a chimney,
which passes through the top of the outer stove, and is con¬
veyed to the outside of the building. The outer case in¬
cludes not only the furnace or inner stove, but also a con¬
siderable space, occupied by the air of the atmosphere, which
is freely admitted through a number of openings placed
around it; and when any current of air is produced, it passes
off from the space between the outer case and inner stove,
and is conveyed by tubes through the body of the apart¬
ment. But we shall first describe the different parts of
which the stove is composed, after which we shall be better
able to understand its mode of operation.
Fig. 9 exhibits a perspective view of this stove. AB is
the body, which is about three feet
high, and of a circular form. C is a
square pedestal, on which the stove is
placed, and which contains the ash-pit.
The height of the pedestal is about a
foot, and it is nearly insulated by rest¬
ing on the spherical supports a a, also
of cast-iron. FEE are openings in
front of the ash-pit, through which the
air enters to support the combustion.
These openings can be enlarged or
diminished, or opened and shut at
pleasure. FF is the door of the fur¬
nace, through which the fuel is introduced. I his door is
attached to the inner furnace, and is double. It is one
foot broad, and eleven inches high. GG is the chimney,
which passes from the furnace within, through the outer
case, and conveys the smoke out of the building. HH are
openings in the outer case, and are eight in number, through
which the air enters, and being heated, is greatly rarified,
and passes off through the funnel or pipe III. This pipe
Fisr. 9.
the end K, the air rushes out from the small tubes LL, in¬
serted into the side of the pipe III, and thus mixes with v>
the cold air of the apartment. The diameter of the outer
case at the bottom is about two feet, and the diameter of
the furnace within is about sixteen inches.
The length of the body of a church in which two stoves
of the form and dimensions now described are erected, is
about sixty feet, and the breadth is about forty-five feet.
The tubes III are conveyed along the lower edge of the
gallery, about half the length of the church. The fires are
lighted about four or fiveVclock on the Sunday morning
during the earlier part of the cold season ; but as the season
advances it is usual to light them earlier. From this time
till the congregation assembles for the afternoon service, the
furnaces are constantly supplied with fuel. By this man¬
agement the air in the church is kept comfortably warm
during the coldest season of the year.
When only one apartment is to be heated by a stove of
this kind, the stove ought to be placed in the apartment,
because then it is supplied with air from it, which has been
previously heated; whereas, when it is placed in another
situation, the supply of heated air thrown into the apartment
being derived from without, that within must be forced out
to make way for it, and subsequently at a great expendi¬
ture of fuel. When several apartments are to be warmed,
suppose those of a dwelling-house, the stove ought to be
situated in some part of the lobby, from which the tubes
proceed to the rooms. Of coutse the size of the stove, and
the distribution and size of the tubes, must depend on the
supply of heat required.
There is one very great objection to the stove as now
described. It has been already stated, that when air is pro¬
jected against a red-hot surface, the impurities constantly
floating in it are burned, and emit offensive effluvia; and
this is generally the case with metallic hot-air stoves.
Hence the necessity of having them so placed that they
shall be supplied with air as free as possible from impuii-
ties. Instead of having the whole of the stove made of
metal, the inner part is sometimes metal and the outer
coverin0- brick-work; in which case the chamber between
them is generally larger than in the others, consequently
the temperature does not become so high, and the objec¬
tion urged against the metal stoves is in a great measure
removed.
The annexed figure represents a vertical section of a
stove of this kind. A is the
stove of metal, with the door at
B and ash-pit at C. DU is the
vent, making a turn downwards,
and carried into the chimney at
E. FGHI is the outer casing of
brick-work, completely enclosing
the stove, and also the descending
part of the vent; K is the open¬
ing for the admission of air to the
hot chamber. L is the tube for
carrying off the warm air, and from
this it is conveyed by other tubes
to the rooms to be heated. The
stove from which this figure i
taken is two feet and a quarter it<
width, six feet in height, and the
sides three-fourths of an inch in thickness. The brick casing
is at the distance of six inches from the metal, and the
descending vent within is six inches in diameter. It is used
for warming a lecture-room thirty-five feet long, twenty-
seven feet broad, and twenty high, also a large apartment
thirty feet long, twenty-seven broad, and eighteen high, be¬
sides two smaller rooms and a staircase. The fire is kindled
during winter at seven in the morning, and kept burning
Stove.
Fi<£. 10
anu passes on inrougn me ninnei or pipe  » . , ' ... ,, ° 1
communicates only with the outer stove, and being shut at till lour in the afternoon, when it is a owe to go ou .
STOVE.
743
Stove, quantity of coal amounts daily, on an average, to rather less
than halt a hundredweight. The temperature of the air
from the tubes varies from 120° to 180°, according to the
state of the fire. The temperature of the different apart¬
ments is kept at about 60°. When first erected, the supply
of air for the hot chamber was brought from without; but
now the air for the fuel and for the hot chamber are both
taken from the apartment in which the stove is placed,
which is generally at the temperature of 70°.
W hen the place to be heated is spacious, or when there
are several apartments, it is customary to have the part of
the stove immediately exposed to the fire lined with fire¬
brick, in order to prevent the direct action of the fuel on
the metal; for in these instances the stove is much larger
than that described, and consequently the fire more power¬
ful. Its size must depend on the size and number of the
apartments. In its general construction it resembles the
other, consisting of the inner part for the fuel, with its
grating, ash-pit, and vent, and of the outer casing, with the
aperture for the supply of air to the chamber, and the tube
or tubes for its transmission to the apartments.
The great advantage attending the use of stoves of this
kind is, that they do not become so warm as to decompose
the impurities in the air flowing into the hot chamber, and
consequently there are no offensive effluvia generated. As
the temperature is not so high as that of metal stoves,
more of the warm air is requisite, by which there is a fre¬
quent renewal of that in the apartment, and the tempera¬
ture throughout is more uniform than when a smaller quan¬
tity of hotter air is admitted. It has already been men¬
tioned that the temperature of the air from the hot cham¬
ber of the stove described is from 120° to 180°. Perhaps
this is higher than it ought to be. Many prefer having the
stove so constructed that the temperature of the air which
it throws into the apartment shall not exceed 70°. Of
course, in this case, a much larger quantity of it is neces¬
sary. By throwing in a sufficient supply, that of the apart¬
ments may be maintained at about 60°. The mouths of
the hot air-tubes are made to terminate as near the floor
as possible, that the air may rise, and gradually mix with
the atmosphere of the apartment.
In erecting stoves for the supply of hot air in this way,
there are many circumstances to be considered, to which it
would here be useless to allude. Much must depend on
local situation, the size and number of the apartments, and
the draught through them. These considerations must be
left to the skill and ingenuity of the workman, who must be
guided by keeping in view the general principles which
determine the supply of air to the furnace, the ascensional
force of the column of warm air to be conveyed through the
tubes, the manner in which the apartments to be warmed
are disposed, &c.
In heating buildings by these stoves when they are not
in constant use, as is the case in churches, the time for
keeping them going must also depend on circumstances.
If the object is merely to throw in a supply of warm air,
then the stove must be kindled a few hours before the
apartment is to be occupied, especially if it is not expected
that there shall be much change in its atmosphere; but if
the object is to keep the place warm, then the stove ought
to be kept in constant use, so as to be constantly throwing
in warm air. During night the fire can be banked up, and
it is again made brisk when required. This is much better
than allowing the fire to go out, because in again heating
the stove to the requisite temperature, there must be a
considerable waste of fuel. After the fire is in good con¬
dition, and the stove well heated, the combustion should be
allowed to proceed slowly, which is accomplished by the
proper regulation of the draught.
One of the most ingenious adaptations of iron, for the
purposes of heating rooms, is that of the late Mr John
Sylvester, although the medium conveying the heat is Stove,
water. It is generally in the form of a cylinder, or part of
a cone (fig. 11), from which cone radiate a number of
plates (see the plan of one quarter of
the stove, fig. 11), which resemble
the gills of a fish, from which circum¬
stance it is generally called the “gill
stove.” The whole is of iron, cast
in one piece. The hot water circu¬
lates inside the cylinder. The use
of the gills is to afford as large a
radiating surface as possible, and to
diffuse heat as soon as it is communi¬
cated, in the smallest degree, to such
surface. The consequence is, the air in contact with the iron
is only wrarmed, and never burned. Although this stove has
hitherto been used with water, it seems very probable that
it would succeed with coal or coke, if it had an internal
fire-box of burned coke, and proper doors, vents, &c.
There can be no question, as before stated, that there is
nothing so comfortable or so healthy as an ordinary open
Fig. 12.
Fig. 11.
fire-place; and it is to be doubted, after all, whether by
attention and management of the supply of fuel, and judi¬
cious stirring, there is such extra expense about them. But
open fires require proper chimney places and flues, and will
only consume fuel of good quality, while stoves will burn
almost any thing. If, however, we construct our stoves so
as almost to make them furnaces, we lose from two causes
—the too rapid consumption of fuel, and the rapid draught
of air, which carries a great quantity of heat up the chim¬
ney.
One of the best adaptations of these principles, how¬
ever, is to be found in the stoves invented by Messrs
Featham of Clifford Street, London. These are in the form
of an ordinary register stove, with the usual grate, fire-bars,
74i S T 0
Stow &c, but the back and cheeks are of fire-clay. In the front
I! of the stove there is a sort of iron shutter, sliding in a
Stow- groove like a sash window, which can be diawn quite down
market. to the front of the fire) and cause an action of the draught
like that of a furnace, or it may be thrown quite up, in
which case the action is that of a simple register stove. For
recent continental improvements, the reader is referred to
Peclet’s Traite de la Chaleur.
STOW, John, an industrious historian, son of Thomas
Stow, merchant-tailor, of St Michael’s, Cornhill, in Lon¬
don, was born about the year 1525. Of the early part of
his life we know very little, except that he was bred to his
father’s business, which, in the year 1560, he relinquished,
devoting himself entirely to the study of our ancient his¬
torians, chronicles, annals, charters, registers, and records.
Of these he made a considerable collection. But this
profession of an antiquary being attended with no pre¬
sent emolument, he was obliged for subsistence to return
to his trade. It happened, however, that his talents and
necessities were made known to Dr Parker, archbishop ol
Canterbury, who, being himself an antiquary, encouraged
and enabled Stow to prosecute his darling study. In those
times of persecution, though Elizabeth was then upon
the throne, John Stow did not escape danger. His col¬
lection of popish records was deemed a cause of suspicion.
His younger brother Thomas preferred no less than 140
articles against him before the ecclesiastical commission ;
but the proof being insufficient, he was acquitted. In 1565
he first published his Summary of the Chronicles of Eng¬
land. About the year 1584, he began his Survey of Lon¬
don. In 1585 he was one of the two collectors for a great
muster of Limestreet ward. During the same year he
petitioned the corporation of London to bestow on him
the benefit of two freemen, to enable him to publish his
Survey; and in 1589 he again petitioned for a pension.
Whether he succeeded is not known. He was principally
concerned in the second edition of Holinshed’s Chronicle,
published in 1587. He also corrected and twice aug¬
mented Chaucer’s Works, published in 1561 and in 1597.
His Survey of London was first published in 1598. 1 o
these laborious works he would have added his large Chro¬
nicle, or History of England; but he lived only to publish
an abstract of it, under the title of Flores Historiarum. or
Annals of this Kingdom, from the time of the Ancient Bri¬
tons to his Own. This work was printed in 1600. The
folio volume, which was printed after his death, with the
title of Stow’s Chronicle, was taken from his papers by
Edmund Howes. Having thus spent his life and fortune
in these laborious pursuits, he was at last obliged to solicit
the charitable and well-disposed for relief, for this pur¬
pose King James I. granted him, in 1603, a brief, which was
renewed in 1604, authorising him to collect in churches
the benefactions of his fellow-citizens. He died in April
1605, aged eighty ; and was buried in his parish church of
St Andrew Undershaft, where his widow erected a monu¬
ment to his memory. John Stow was a most indefatigable
antiquary, a faithful historian, and an honest man.
STOWMARKET, a market-town of England, in the
county of Suffolk, in a valley on the Gipping, 12 miles
N.N.W. of Ipswich, and 75 N.E. of London. It has one
main street, and many substantially built houses, The
parish church is a fine old building of the thirteenth century,
partly in the early English, and partly in the decorated
style; the spire, 120 feet high, is modern. The Baptists,
Methodists, and Independents have places of worship here ;
and education is provided for by national and other schools.
Stowmarket has a handsome court-house, a large corn-
exchange, a news-room, and a mechanics’ institute. It is
an active, bustling place, and has some important manufac¬
tories, including several malt-houses, an iron-foundry, and
a rope-work. In the immediate neighbourhood there are
S T R
hop-grounds and brick-fields. The river is navigable up to Strabane
the town ; and by its means timber, coal, and slate are con¬
veyed up from Ipswich. The markets, which are held Stral)o-
weekly, are well supplied with corn, cattle, and other goods ;
and there are at Stowmarket three annual fairs. Pop. 3161.
STRABANE, a market-town of Ireland, in the county
of Tyrone, on the Mourne, 20 miles N.N.W. of Armagh,
and 130 N.N.W. of Dublin. It is very irregularly built on
the right side of the river; and the older part of the town
consists for the most part of very mean and wretched houses;
but there have been formed some new and much better
streets, lined with good houses and shops. The parish church
is a fine cruciform edifice in the Grecian style. Besides this,
there are places of worship for Presbyterians and Metho¬
dists, several schools, a court-house, jail, dispensary, hospital,
and workhouse. The manufacture of linen is carried on to
a considerable extent here; and in former times Strabane
was one of the chief seats of this branch of industry. There
is also a large brewery, and a considerable trade is carried
on in grain and provisions. A canal from Strabane to the
Foyle facilitates the commercial intercourse between this
town and Londonderry. Pop. 4925.
STRABO, an illustrious geographer, was born at Ama-
sia, a city of Capadocia. The time of his birth cannot be
ascertained, but he is known to have flourished during the
age of Augustus and Tiberius. Some writers have fixed
his birth about 66 B.C., and Clinton makes it occur not
later than B.c. 54. He studied grammar and rhetoric
under Aristodemus, at Nysa, in Caria; philosophy under
Xenarchus, a peripatetic; and he took lessons from Ty-
rannis of Amisus. Influenced by the authority, probably,
of Boethus of Sidon, who had been his preceptor, he
adopted the tenets of the Stoics. He obtained the friend¬
ship of Cornelius Gallus, governor of Egypt. Strabo com¬
posed a history in 43 books which, unfortunately, is now
lost. In order to collect materials for his great work, he
travelled in many different regions, and after much toil and
research completed his Geography, which is justly regarded
as a very precious relic of antiquity. It consists of seven¬
teen books, all of which are not, however, entire. The first
two books are employed in showing that the study of geo¬
graphy is not only worthy of, but even necessary to, a phi¬
losopher ; the third describes Spain; the fourth, Gaul and
the Britannic Isles; the fifth and sixth, Italy and the adja¬
cent isles; the seventh, which is imperfect at the end, Ger¬
many, the countries of the Getae and Illyrii, Taurica Cher-
sonesus, and Epirus; the eighth, ninth, and tenth, Greece
wnth the neighbouring isles; the four following, Asia within
Mount Taurus; the fifteenth and sixteenth, Asia without
Taurus, India, Persia, Syria, Arabia; and the seventeenth,
Egypt, Ethiopia, Carthage, and other countries of Africa.
Groskurd fixes his death to the year a.d. 24.
Strabo’s Geography first appeared in a Latin version,
executed by Phavorinus and Tifernas, and printed at
Rome by Sweynheym and Pannartz. It is an ample folio
volume, without date, but is supposed to have been printed
in or about the year 1469. The earliest edition with a
date is that of Venice, 1472, fol. The editio princeps of
the Greek text proceeded from the press of Aldus, Venet.,
1516, folio, This edition, which is not distinguished by
its accuracy, was succeeded by that of Hopper and Heres-
bach, Basil., 1549, fol. An edition, containing an elegant
version, with notes and castigations, was next produced by
Xylander, Basil., 1571, fol. The next edition was by
Casaubon, Genev., 1597, fol. By the aid of four MSS.
and of his own critical sagacity, he greatly improved the
Greek text. He retained the version of Xylander. He
afterwards augmented and improved his annotations, and
the work was reprinted at Paris in 1620, after the death of
the learned editor. This second edition of Casaubon, to¬
gether with the notes of various other critics, was repub-
S T R
Strada lisbed by T. Janson van Almeloveen, Amst, 1707, fob
| He has subjoined the Chrestomathia, or epitome of Strabo,
'j which, according to Dodwell, was compiled by some un-
known writer, between the years 976 and 996 a.d. It had
been found of some use, not only in contributing to the
correction of the text, but likewise in supplying to a certain
extent the defect of the seventh book. An elaborate and
valuable edition of Strabo was commenced by Siebenkees,
and completed by Tzschucke, Lipsue, 1796-1819, 7 tom.
8vo. Much was expected from the edition of Falconer,
Oxon., 1807, 2 tom. fol. It was one defect of the editor
that he was not sufficiently acquainted with the labours of
the continental critics. Nor must we overlook an edition
of the text, illustrated with Greek notes by Coray, Paris,
1815, 4 tom. 8vo. Strabo was translated into German by
Penzel, 4 vols. 1775. A French translation was under¬
taken by command of the emperor, and was executed by
De la Porte du Theil, Coray, and Letronne. The intro¬
duction, and the notes distinguished by the letter G, were
contributed by Gosselin, Paris, 1805-19, 5 tom. 4to.
Kramer has also published an edition of the Geography of
Strabo, in three vols. 1844-52, with notes by Meineke, 3
yols., Leipsic, 1852. An excellent German translation of
it is by Groskurd, 4 vols., Berlin, 1831-34. A recent
English translation of the work is by Falconer and
Hamilton, in 3 vols., 1854-57.
STRADA, Famiano, an ingenious and learned Jesuit,
was born at Rome in the year 1572, and there taught rhe¬
toric for fifteen years. He wrote several pieces upon the
art of oratory, and published some orations with the view
of illustrating by example what he had inculcated by pre¬
cept. But his Prolusiones Academicce and his Historia
de Bello Belgico are the works which raised his reputation
and have preserved his memory. His History of the War of
Flanders was published at Rome, the first decade in 1640,
the second in 1647, the whole extending from the death of
Charles V., which happened in 1558, to the year 1590.
His Prolusiones Academicce show great ingenuity, and a
masterly skill in classical literature; that prolusion espe¬
cially in which he introduces Lucan, Lucretius, Claudian,
Ovid, Statius, and Virgil, each of them versifying accord¬
ing to his own strain. This work has often been printed.
Strada died at Rome in the Jesuits’ Collecre in the vear
1649.
STRADBALLY, a market-town of Ireland, Queen’s
county, 44 miles S.S.W. of Dublin. It contains a hand¬
some parish church, places of worship for Roman Catholics,
Wesleyan, and Primitive Methodists, several schools, a
court-house, and a dispensary. Pop. 1326.
STRAFFORD, Earl of. See Wentworth, Thomas.
STRAHAN, William, an eminent printer, was born at
Edinburgh in the year 1715. After having passed through
the tuition of a grammar-school, he served an apprentice¬
ship to a printer, and when a very young man removed to
a wider sphere in that line of business, and went to follow
his trade in London. His abilities in his profession, ac¬
companied with perfect integrity and unabating diligence,
enabled him, after the first difficulties were overcome, to
advance with rapid success. And he was one of the most
flourishing men of the trade, when, in the year 1740, he
purchased a share of the patent for king’s printer, of Eyre,
with whom he maintained the most cordial intimacy during
the rest of his life. Never had such rewards been given
to the labours of literary men as were received from him
and his associates in their purchases of copyrights. Hav¬
ing now attained the first great object of business, wealth,
Strahan looked with a very allowable ambition on the
stations of political rank and eminence. Politics had long
occupied his active mind, and he had for many years
pursued them as his favourite amusement, by correspond¬
ing on that subject with some of the first men of the age.
L YOL. XX.
S T R 745
Strahan’s queries to Dr Franklin in the year 1769, respect- strait
ing the discontents of the Americans, published in the 11
London Chronicle of 28th July 1778, show the just con- Stralsund.
ception which he entertained of the important consequences
of that dispute, and his anxiety to investigate, at that early
peiiod, the proper means by which their grievances might
be removed, and a permanent harmony restored between
the two countries. In the year 1775 he was elected a
member of parliament for the burgh of Malmesbury, in
Vv iltshire, with a very illustrious colleague, Mr Fox ; and
in the succeeding parliament, for Woo ton Basset, in the
fcame county. In this station, applying himself with that
industry which was natural to him, he was a useful mem¬
ber, and attended the house with a scrupulous punctuality.
hen parliament was dissolved in 1784, Strahan was not
again returned for the borough he had previously repre¬
sented, and his declining health induced him to retire from
political life. He died on the 9th of July 1785, in the
seventy-first year of his age.
STRAII, a narrow passage or channel connecting two
larger portions of water together.
STRALSUND, a fortified town of the Prussian mon-
archy, in the province of Pomerania, capital of a govern¬
ment of the same name, formerly of the whole of Swedish
Pomeiania, on the strait between the island of Riigen and
the mainland, 120 miles north by west of Berlin. It is
entirely surrounded by water, and only approached by
three bridges, which connect it with as many suburbs on
the mainland opposite to the town. It is an old-fashioned
town, and somewhat gloomy in its appearance ; the streets
are very narrow and irregular, but for the most part clean
and well paved. The principal buildings are the town-hall,
a fine old building with seven pinnacles ; and the churches
of St Nicholas and St Mary, the former of the thirteenth
and the latter of the fourteenth century, and both fine
specimens of the pointed style of architecture, similar to
the churches of Liibeck. Near one of the city-gates there
is a stone built into the wall which marks the place where
Charles XII. of Sweden used to spend the night when de¬
fending Stralsund against the kings of Prussia, Poland, and
Denmark, in 1715. Besides the two already mentioned,
Stralsund contains four other churches, one of which has
two celebrated paintings by Tischbein. There is also a
government-house, a town-hall containing a public library,
a gymnasium with a museum and library, a school of navi¬
gation, a lunatic asylum, orphan hospital, and workhouse.
Ihe manufactures of the town are numerous, including
ship-building, and the making of woollen and linen cloth”
starch, sugar, tobacco, soap, candles, leather, &c. An active
trade is carried on ; and the harbour, which is good, though
somewhat encumbered with shoals, is much frequented by
vessels. Wheat, malt, timber, wool, and linen are the chief
articles of export. Stralsund was founded in 1209 by
Jaromar I., Prince of Riigen, and it soon rose to a high
degree of prosperity, as a free imperial town and a member
of the Hanseatic League. In the Thirty Years’ War it
successfully resisted the arms of Wallenstein, who besieged
it in 1628, determined, as he expressed it, to take the place
“though it were bound to heaven with chains.” The
brave defence of the citizens, supported by the Danes and
Swedes, compelled the Imperial general to raise the siege
after a loss of 12,000 men. In 1678 Frederick William of
Brandenburg bombarded and took the town from the
Swedes, who had gained possession of it by the peace of
Westphalia in 1648. It was, however, restored to Sweden
in 1679. In 1715 Stralsund was besieged by the Prussian
Danish, and Saxon forces, and was compelled to surrender!
Again, however, in 1720 it was given back to Sweden!
In 1807 it was surrendered to the French, who destroyed
its fortifications. It was in Stralsund that Schill, a German
who attempted to deliver his country from the French, lost
5 B
S T R
his life in 1808. The place where he fell is still marked
in one of the streets, and his body lies in one of the
churchyards, without the head, which is now at Brunswick.
In 1810 Stralsund was ceded to Denmark, and in 1815 to
Prussia. The fortifications have been since restored.
Pop. 20,333.
STRANGE, Sir Robert, an eminent line-engraver,
was descended from the family of Strange or Strang, of
Balcasky, in Fife, and was born in the island of Pomona,
in Orkney, on the 14th of July 1721. Having early dis¬
played a taste for drawing, he was apprenticed to Richard
Cooper of Edinburgh, where he gave great satisfaction to
his employer, and awakened in his friends the highest ex¬
pectations of his future success.
In the year 1747 he married Isabella, only daughter of
William Lumsden, son of Bishop Lumsden ; and soon after
his marriage he went to France, where with the most
ardent application he prosecuted his studies, chiefly at
Paris, under the direction of the celebrated Le Bas, who
engraved many excellent prints from the Dutch painters.
It was from Le Bas that he had the first hint of the use of
the instrument commonly called the dry needle, but which
he afterwards greatly improved by his own genius, and
which has added such superior beauties to his engravings.
In the year 1751 Strange removed with his family from
Edinburgh and settled in London, where he engraved
several fine historical prints. He set out for Italy in 1760.
He there made many admirable drawings, several of which
he afterwards engraved. He was chosen a member of the
academies of Rome, Florence, and Bologna, and professor
in the Royal Academy at Parma. The ceiling of the room
of the Vatican library at Rome, in which the collection of
engravings is kept, represents the progress of engraving;
and the portraits of the most eminent artists in that line
are there introduced, among which is that of Strange.
Under his arm he holds a portfolio, on which his name is.
inscribed. In France, where he resided many years at
different periods his talents were likewise appreciated. He
was chosen a member of the Royal Academy of Painting at
Paris. He settled in London in 1751, and soon became
the first historical engraver in England. He received the
honour of knighthood on the 5th of January 1787.
Such was Sir Robert Strange as an artist; nor was he
less distinguished by his truly amiable moral qualities, which
endeared him to all who had the happiness to know him.
With regard to his works, he left fifty capital plates, which
have been carefully preserved in his family. They are
engraved from pictures by the most celebrated painters of
the Roman, Florentine, Lombard, Venetian, and other
schools. They are historical, both sacred and profane. Sir
Robert carefully preserved about eighty copies of the finest
and mostchoice impressionsof each plate he engraved; which,
from length of time, have acquired a great beauty, mellow¬
ness, and brilliancy. He did this with a view of present¬
ing them to the public at a period when age should disable
him from adding to their number. These he collected
into as many volumes, and arranged them in the order in
which they were engraved. To each volume he prefixed
two portraits of himself, on the same plate, the one an
etching, the other a finished proof, from a drawing by John
Baptiste Greuse. This is the last plate which he engraved,
and is a proof that neither his eyes nor hand were impaired
by age. It likewise shows the use he made both of aqua¬
fortis and the graver. Each volume, besides a dedication
to the king, contains an introduction on the progress of
engraving, and critical remarks on the pictures from which
his engravings are taken. These volumes were ready to
be given to the public, when Sir Robert’s death delayed this
magnificent publication. He died at London 5th July 1792.
The following is an authentic catalogue of his works :—“ Two
Heads of the Author,” one an etching, the other a finished proof,
S T R
from a drawing by John Baptiste Greuse; “ The Return from Strangford
Market,” by Wouvermans ; “ Cupid,” by Vanloo; “ Mary Magda¬
len,” by Guido'; “Cleopatra,” by the same ; “ The Madonna,” by the Strasburg.
same; “The Angel Gabriel,” by the same ; “ The Virgin holding
in her hand a book, and attended by angels,” by Carlo Maratt; “ The
Virgin with the Child asleep,” by the same; “ Liberality and
Modesty,” by Guido; “ Apollo rewarding Merit and Punishing
Arrogance,” by Andrea Sacchi; “ The finding of Romulus and
Remus,” by Pietro da Cortona; “ Cassar repudiating Pompeia,” by
the same; “ Three Children of King Charles I.,” by Vandyke; “ Beli-
sarius,” by Salvator Rosa; “ St Agnes,” by Dominichino; “ The Judg-
ment of Hercules,” by Nicolas Poussin; “ Venus attired by the
Graces,” by Guido; “Justice and Meekness,” by Kaffaello; “ The
Offspring of Love,” by Guido ; “ Cupid Sleeping,” by the same ;
“Abraham giving up the handmaid Hagar,” by Guercino ; “ Esther
a Suppliant before Ahasuerus,” by the same; “ Joseph and Poti-
phar’s Wife,” by Guido; “ Venus blinding Cupid,” by Titian;
“ Venus,” by the same; “ Danae,” by the same ; “ Portrait of King
Charles I.,” by Vandyke; “ The Madonna,” by Correggio; “ St
Csecilia,”by Raffaello; “ Mary Magdalen,” by Guido ; “ Our Saviour
appearing to his Mother after his Resurrection,” by Guercino;
“ A Mother and Child,” by Parmegiano; “ Cupid Meditating,” by
Schidoni; “ Laomedon, King of Troy, detected by Neptune and
Apollo,” by Salvator Rosa; “ The Death of Dido,” by Guercino;
“Venus and Adonis,” by Titian; “Fortune,” by Guido; Cleo¬
patra,” by the same; “ Two Children at School,” by Schidoni;
“ Mary Magdalen,” by Correggio; “ Portrait of King Charles I.
attended by the Marquis of Hamilton,” by Vandyke; “Queen
Henrietta, attended by the Prince of Wales, and holdingin her arms
the Duke of York,” by the same; “ Apotheosis of the Royal Child¬
ren,” by West; “ The Annunciation,” by Guido; “ Portrait of Raf¬
faello Sancio d’Urbino,” by himself; “ Sappho,” by Carlo Dolci;
“ Our Saviour asleep,” by Vandyke; “ St John in the Desert,” by
Murrillo.
STRANGFORD, a small seaport and market-town of
Ireland, in the county of Down, on the south side of the
mouth of Lough Strangford, 6 miles N.E. of Downpatrick.
It has a chapel of case and places of worship for Roman
Catholics and Wesleyans. The people are mostly employed
in fishing. There belonged to the town in 1857, 57 vessels,
tonnage 3871 ; and there entered the port 526 vessels,
tonnage 25,680; cleared, 172 vessels, tonnage 7595. Pop.
620.
STRANRAER, a royal parliamentary and municipal
burgh and seaport-town of Wigtonshire, on the S. shore of
Loch Ryan, 8 miles N.E. of Portpatrick, and 50 S. of Ayr.
It consists principally of three main streets running parallel
to the shore, and connected by several cross streets. Among
the principal public buildings are an elegant parish church,
a town-hall, and a jail, which was formerly one of the resi¬
dences of the noble family of Stair. Besides the parish church
there are a quoad sacra church, two Free churches, three
United Presbyterian, an Original Secession, a Reformed
Presbyterian church, and a Roman Catholic chapel. There
is likewise a poorhouse for the Rhynns of Galloway situated
here. There are also an academy and several schools, some of
which are endowed. Stranraer is a thriving place, and forms
the emporium for the Rhynns or western district of Wigton¬
shire. The number of registered shipping belonging to
the port at 31st December 1858 was 30, tonnage 1196.
The number of vessels that entered the port during that
year was 503, tonnage 35,644; left, 368, tonnage 31,564.
The harbour is protected by a high-water stone-pier, with
a wooden continuation, which is at present (I860) under¬
going extensive improvements. Stranraer is on the line
of the Castle-Douglas and Portpatrick Railway, now ap¬
proaching completion. It has a weekly market and several
annual fairs. It unites with Wigton, Whithorn, and New
Galloway in sending a member to Parliament. Pop. (1851)
of royal burgh, 3877; of parliamentary burgh, (5738).
STRASBURG (Fr. Strasbourg, Germ. Strass burg,
anc. Argentoratum), a fortified town in France, capital of the
department of Bas-Rhin, on the 111, an affluent of the Rhine,
about a mile from its confluence with that river, 250 miles
E. by S. of Paris. It stands on a flat piece of ground, and
is of an irregular but somewhat triangular form, 5 or 6
S T ft
Strasburg. miles in circuit. The defences consist of a wall with bastions,
'/ ditches, and outworks, and a citadel at the eastern extremity
with five bastions, whose outworks stretch down to the
Rhine. A bridge of boats leads across the river to the for¬
tress of Kehl in Baden. Strasburg is entered by seven
gates. The 111 flows through the town from south-west to
north-east; at its entrance there is a sluice by means of
which the surrounding country can be laid under water.
Immediately below this it divides into five branches, four of
which re-unite a short way further down, and form the
principal channel, flowing first east and then north, and
receiving the canal of the Rhine from the right. The
other branch, which is much smaller, flows first north and
then east, and unites with the former just before leaving
the town. Strasburg is thus divided into three parts, which
are joined by numerous wooden bridges. The town is very
irregularly laid out; the principal streets are broad, and
some of the squares spacious and regular ; but in general,
the streets are narrow and winding. The houses are all
substantially built of stone, they rise to a great height, and
have steep roofs, with two or three tiers of windows. Al¬
though Strasburg has now for a long time belonged to the
French, the character of the town, and the language, man¬
ners, and customs of its inhabitants are still entirely Ger¬
man. The chief public squares are that of Kleber, a native
of Strasburg, containing a statue in his honour; that of
Gutenberg, likewise containing a statue of the inventor of
printing, who carried out his first experiments here ; that
of Austerlitz near the gate of the same name; and that of
Broglio, formerly the horse-market, one of the most busy
in the town. Among the public buildings, the largest and
most interesting is the Cathedral, one of the finest Gothic
buildings in Europe, with the loftiest spire in the world.
It is said to have been originally founded in 504; but this
earlier edifice was almost entirely destroyed by lightning in
1007. The present building was begun in 1015, but not
finished till 1439. Erwin of Steinbach, the architect of the
tower, died in 1318, when his work was incomplete, but it
was carried on by his son, and afterwards by his daughter.
It stands at the northern side of the west front; and accord¬
ing to the original design, there should have been a similar
tower to the south of this, but it has only been raised to a
much lower height. This west front is exceedingly fine ;
it has three large portals, a rose window 48 feet in diameter,
and three equestrian statues of Clovis, Dagobert, and Ru¬
dolph of Hapsburg. The height of the tower is 466 feet,
18 feet higher than St Peter’s at Rome, and 16 above the
great pyramid as it is at present; though the latter, in its
original state, was probably considerably higher than the
spire. The interior of the church consists of a nave and
aisles, transepts and choir; and its principal dimensions ai*e
as follows :—entire length, 357 feet; height of the nave,
79 feet; length of the transepts, 140 feet; breadth of the
nave, 35 feet; of the choir which has no aisles, 67 feet.
The most remarkable objects in the interior are the rich
painted glass in the windows, the carved stone pulpit, the
font, and the celebrated clock, recently repaired, a most
elaborate piece of machinery, indicating in addition to the
hours the phenomena of the heavens. Some of the other
churches in Strasburg are interesting and remarkable,
such as that of St Stephen, the oldest in the town ; that of
St Thomas, which belongs to the Lutherans, containing a
splendid monument by Pegalle to Marshal Saxe; the
Temple Neuf, also a Lutheran church, and St Pierre le
jeune, which is partly Roman Catholic and partly Lutheran.
The Jews have also a splendid synagogue here. The
whole number of churches in the town is 15. The other
principal buildings are the royal palace, Episcopal palace,
prefects’ office, town-hall, custom-house, court-house,
public library of 130,000 volumes, the Royal Academy,
which was originally a JProtestant school, afterwards a uni-
s T R
747
versity, but degraded from the latter rank at the French Stratford,
Revolution; the Theatre with an Ionic portico; and the Stony
Picture Gallery. There are many and extensive military I!
establishments here; including an arsenal, artillery school,
cannon foundry, barracks, and military hospital. The <, °' ,
manufactures of Strasburg are very numerous. Woollen, Y^"
linen, and cotton goods, sailcloth, jewellery, metal buttons,
clocks and watches, cutlery, cast-iron goods, china, porce¬
lain, earthenware, soap, leather, straw-hats, hosiery, paper,
playing-cards, &c. There are also large bleachfields, dye-
works, sugar refineries, breweries, printing-offices, and other
manufactories. The town is celebrated for its goose-liver
pies (p&tes de fores gras). An extensive trade is carried
on with other parts of France, as well as with Holland,
Germany, Switzerland, and Italy, and it is greatly facilitated
by the advantageous position of the town so near the Rhine.
Strasburg is the seat of a bishop, of a prefect, of a court of
law, chamber of commerce, theological, legal, and medical
faculties, numerous academies and schools, hospitals, &c.
It occupies the site of the ancient Argentoratum, which
probably existed before the Roman conquest, but was made
by them a fortress against the incursions of the Germans,
who obtained possession of it at a subsequent period, but
were driven back by Clovis. About the sixth century the
ancient name began to be superseded by that of Strateburg-
uen, whence has come its present appellation. During the
middle ages it was subject to the German emperors, and
was the capital of Alsace, but along with that province it
was ceded to Louis XIV. in 1681. Since then its defences
have been greatly improved under the direction of Vauban,
so that it is now one of the strongest fortresses in Europe.
Pop. (1851) 75,565, of whom 35,000 are Protestants.
STRATFORD, Stony, a market-town of England, in
the county and 7 miles N.E. of Buckingham, on the Ouse,
which is here crossed by a bridge. It is generally well built
of freestone, and contains a parish church with an ancient
tower, Wesleyan, Independent, and Baptist chapels, a
national school, and several charitable institutions. Many
of the people are employed in lace-making. Pop. 1757.
STRATFORD-UPON-AVON, a municipal borough
and market-town of England, in Warwickshire, on the Avon,
9miles S.W. of Warwick, and 96 N.W.of London. Its situa¬
tion is very fine, on a gentle slope above the river, which
has here a considerable breadth, and is crossed by an old
bridge of fourteen pointed arches. The older parts of the
town are irregularly laid out, and but indifferently built;
but many improvements have been made of late, and new
streets, with large and good houses, have been constructed.
Close to the river, at the south-east corner of the town,
stands the church, a fine cruciform building, illustrious as
the burial-place of Shakspeare. The remains of the poet
lie on the north side of the chancel, and on the wall is his
monument, partly of marble, with a half-length bust, and
two inscriptions, one Latin and the other English. The
church, which was completely restored in 1840, is distin¬
guished also for its architecture, and has some ancient
stone seats and two modern carved pulpits. Stratford has
also a chapel of ease and places of worship, belonging to
Methodists, Independents, Baptists, and Roman Catholics;
national and British schools, a free grammar school, and
several charities. There are a theatre and a town-hall, the
latter having a statue of Shakspeare on the outside, and a
portrait in the interior. The house in which he was born
is still preserved, but that in which he spent the later years
of his life has been pulled down. The inhabitants of
Stratford are chiefly employed in agriculture. Numerous
fairs are held here, and an active trade is carried on. Pop.
3372.
STRATHMIGLO, a burgh of barony and parish of
Scotland, Fifeshire, 10 miles W.S.W. of Cupar, on the left
bank of the Miglo. It has a town-hall, a parish church,
748 S T R
Strato and others belonging to the Free Church, the United
II Presbyterians, and the Reformed Presbyterians, as well as
S*reng?hof severed schools. The people are chiefly employed in
Materials. weaving. an(j ^.g are here also a bleachfield, corn-mills,
^ v ^ malt-houses, and breweries. Pop. 1304.
STRATO, a Greek philosopher who flourished in the
third century B.C., was the son of Arcesilaus, of Lampsacus.
He belonged to the Aristotelian school, and in 286 B.c.
was appointed by Theophrastus, the immediate successor of
Aristotle, to succeed him as head of the Lyceum. This
position he held for eighteen years; and he is also said
to have instructed Ptolemy Philadelphus in philosophy.
Strato devoted his attention chiefly to physical science, and
on that account was known by the surname of Physicus, or
the naturalist. A list of his works given by Diogenes
shows that only a few of them were devoted to any other
than physical subjects. No authentic fragments of his
writings have been preserved, and we can only form some
imperfect idea of his teaching from incidental notices in
other authors. He seems to have introduced some modifi¬
cations of the peripatetic philosophy, which were afterwards
more fully developed in the epicurean system. In psycho¬
logy he carried to a greater length the tendency which had
been previously begun by Theophrastus; to represent the
purely intellectual acts of the mind as much more closely
allied to sensation than Aristotle had admitted. The mind,
according to him, in pure thought no less than in sensation,
makes use of the material organism ; and these two opera¬
tions, though distinct from each other, can never be carried
on separately. Consequently, if Strato adhered to Aris¬
totle’s view as to the perishable nature of the lower or sen¬
sational part of the soul, he could not have held in any
S T R
sense its immortality. The metaphysical opinions of Straubing
Strato are not so certainly known as his psychological
views, and they have given rise to considerable discussion Strength oi
in modern times. The peculiarity of his doctrine was, that ^Iateri^sJ
the self-moving power of nature is, as it were, dormant,
until it is called into action by something from without.
Cudworth, Leibnitz, Bayle, and others have accused Strato
of atheism; but he has not been without defenders from
this charge. The few and brief notices we have on this
subject from ancient writers do not perhaps warrant us in
coming to any decided conclusion.
STRAUBING, a town of Bavaria, on the right bank
of the Danube, 25 miles S.E. of Regensburg. It is walled,
and has a castle, a number of churches and convents, a gym¬
nasium, Latin school, and normal seminary, an orphan and
other hospitals. Brewing and weaving are extensively
carried on ; there are large powder and corn magazines,
and an important trade in corn and horses. The castle
was the residence in the fifteenth century of Albert III. of
Bavaria, with his wife, Agnes Bernauer, the beautiful
daughter of a citizen of Augsburg. Albert’s father, the
reigning duke, being displeased with his son’s marriage,
ordered the lady during his absence to be drowned in the
river. She is now buried in the church of St Peter, where
a marble tablet records her tragic fate. Pop. 9300.
STREHLEN, a town of Prussia, in the province of
Silesia, government and 23 miles S. of Breslau, on the
left bank of the Ohlau. It is surrounded by walls, and
entered by three gates; has an old castle, a court-house, a
Roman Catholic and several Protestant churches, and an
hospital. Woollen and linen cloth, leather, and tobacco are
manufactured here. Pop. 5114.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS
Importance In Mechanics, is a subject of so much importance, that in
of the sub- a nation so eminent as this for invention and ingenuity in
eet. every species of manufacture, and in particular so distinguish¬
ed for its improvements in machinery of every kind, it is
somewhat singular that no writer has treated it in the de¬
tail which its importance and difficulty demand. The man
of science who visits our great manufactories is delighted
with the ingenuity which he observes in every part, the
innumerable inventions which come even from individual
artisans, and the determined purpose of improvement and
refinement which he sees in every workshop. Every cot¬
ton-mill appears an academy of mechanical science; and
mechanical invention is spreading from these fountains
over the whole kingdom. But the philosopher is mortified
to see this ardent spirit cramped by ignorance of prin¬
ciple, and many of those original and brilliant thoughts ob¬
scured and clogged with needless and even hurtful addi¬
tions, and a complication of machinery which checks im¬
provement even by its appearance of ingenuity. There is
nothing in which this want of scientific education, this igno¬
rance of principle, is so frequently observed, as in the in¬
judicious proportion of the parts of machines and other me¬
chanical structures ; proportions and forms of parts in which
the strength and position are nowise regulated by the strains
to which they are exposed, and where repeated failures have
been the only lessons.
Strength of The strength of materials arises immediately or ultimate-
materials ly from the cohesion of the parts of bodies. Our examina-
anses from tion of this property of tangible matter has as yet been very
oo esion. partial and imperfect, and by no means enables us to ap¬
ply mathematical calculations with precision and success.
The various modifications of cohesion, in its different ap¬
pearances of perfect softness, plasticity, ductility, elasticity,
hardness, have a mighty influence on the strength of bodies,
but are hardly susceptible of measurement. Their tex¬
ture, whether uniform like glass and ductile metals, crys¬
tallized or granulated like other metals and freestone, or
fibrous like timber, is a circumstance no less important;
yet even here, although we derive some advantage from
remarking to which of these forms of aggregation a sub¬
stance belongs, the aid is but small. All we can do in thisExperi-
want of general principles is, to make experiments on every ments to
class of bodies. Accordingly philosophers have endeavour- ascertain it.
ed to instruct the public in this particular. The Royal
Society of London, at its very first institution, made many
experiments at their meetings, as may be seen in the first
registers of the society; and since then a vast multitude
of experiments have been made by public bodies and pri¬
vate individuals. The best of these, perhaps, up to the
date of the present edition, are those of Mr Barlow.
But to make use of any experiments, there must be em- Rendered
ployed some general principle by which we can generalize useful by
their results. They will otherwise be only narrations ofS'.enera^ia*'
detached facts. We must have some notion of that inter-
medium, by the intervention of which an external force ap¬
plied to one part of a lever, joist, or pillar, occasions a strain
on a distant part. This can be nothing but the cohesion
between the parts. It is this connecting force which is
brought into action, or, as we more shortly express it, ex¬
cited. This action is modified in every part by the laws
of mechanics. It is this action which we call the strength Strength
of that part, and its effect is the strain on the adjoining defined,
parts; and thus it is the same force, differently viewed,
that constitutes both the strain and the strength. When
we consider it in the light of a resistance to fracture, we call
it strength.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of We call every thing a force which we observe ever to be
v^ateria s’ accompanied by a change of motion; or, more strictly speak-
Causes ^n£>’ we *n^er presence and agency of a force wherever
known we observe the state of things in respect of motion different
only from from what we know to be the result of the action of all the
their ef- forces which we know to act on the body. Thus when we
fects. observe a rope prevent a body from falling, we infer a mov¬
ing force inherent in the rope, with as much confidence as
when we observe it drag the body along the ground. The
immediate action of this force is undoubtedly exerted be¬
tween the immediately adjoining parts of the rope. The im¬
mediate effect is the keeping the particles of the rope to¬
gether. They ought to separate by any external force
drawing the ends of the rope contrariwise; and we ascribe
their not doing so to a mechanical force really opposing
this external force. WTien desired to give it a name, we
name it from what we conceive to be its effect, and there¬
fore its characteristic, and we call it cohesion. This is
merely a name for the fact; but it is the same thing in all
our denominations. We know nothing of the causes but
in the effects; and our name for the cause is in fact the
name of the effect, which is cohesion. We mean nothing
else by gravitation or magnetism. What do we mean when
we say that Newton understood thoroughly the nature of
gravitation, of the force of gravitation; or that Franklin
understood the nature of the electric force ? Nothing but
this : Newton considered with patient sagacity the general
facts of gravitation, and has described and classed them
with the utmost precision. In like manner, we shall un¬
derstand the nature of cohesion when we have discovered
with equal generality the laws of cohesion, or general facts
which are observed in the appearances, and when we have
described and classed them with equal accuracy.
Let us therefore attend to the more simple and obvious
phenomena of cohesion, and mark with care every circum¬
stance of resemblance by which they may be classed. Let
us receive these as the laws of cohesion, characteristic of
its supposed cause, the force of cohesion. We cannot pre¬
tend to enter on this vast research. The modifications are
innumerable ; and it would require the penetration of more
than Newton to detect the circumstance of similarity amidst
millions of discriminating circumstances. Yet this is the
only way of discovering which are the primary facts cha¬
racteristic of the force, and which are the modifications.
The study is immense, but it is by no means desperate;
and we entertain great hopes that it will ere long be suc¬
cessfully prosecuted; but, in our particular predicament,
we must content ourselves with selecting such general laws
as seem to give us the most immediate information of the
circumstances that must be attended to by the mecha¬
nician in his constructions, that he may unite strength with
simplicity, economy, and energy.
All bodies 1. Then, it is a matter of fact that all bodies are in a
e astic. certain degree perfectly elastic; that is, when their form
or bulk is changed by certain moderate compressions or
distractions, it requires the continuance of the changing
force to continue the body in this new state; and when the
force is removed, the body recovers its original form. We
limit the assertion to certain moderate changes. For in¬
stance, take a lead wire of one fifteenth of an inch in dia¬
meter and ten feet long; fix one end firmly to the ceiling,
and let the wire hang perpendicular; affix to the lower end
an index like the hand of a watch ; on some stand imme¬
diately below let there be a circle divided into degrees,
with its centre corresponding to the lower point of the
wire ; now turn this index twice round, and thus twist the
wire. When the index is let go, it will turn backwards
again, by the wire untwisting itself, and make almost four
revolutions before it stops; after which it twists and un¬
twists many times, the index going backwards and forwards
round the circle, diminishing, however, its arch of twist
749
each time, till at last it settles precisely in its original po- Strength of
sition. This may be repeated for ever. Now, in this mo- Materials,
tion, every part of the wire partakes equally of the twist, ''■"'“v"*-''
I he particles are stretched, require force to keep them in
their state of extension, and recover completely their re¬
lative positions. These are all the characters of what the
mechanician calls perfect elasticity. This is a quality quite
familiar in many cases, as in glass, tempered steel, &c.,
but was thought incompetent to lead, which is generally
considered as having little or no elasticity. But we make
the assertion in the most general terms, with the limitation
to moderate derangement of form. We have made the
same experiment on a thread of pipe-clay, made by forcing
soft clay through the small hole of a syringe by means of a
screw, and we found it more elastic than the lead wire; for
a thread of one twentieth of an inch diameter and seven
feet long allowed the index to make two turns, and yet
completely recovered its first position.
2. But if we turn the index of the lead wire four times
round, and let it go again, it untwists again in the same
manner, but it makes little more than four turns back again ;
and after many oscillations it finally stops in a position
almost two revolutions removed from its original position.
It has now acquired a new arrangement of parts, and this
new arrangement is permanent like the former ; and, what
is of particular moment, it is perfectly elastic. This change What is
is familiarly known by the denomination of a set. The meant by
wire is said to have taken a set. When we attend mi-a set'
nutely to the procedure of nature in this phenomenon, we
find that the particles have, as it were, slid on each other,
still cohering, and have taken a new position, in which their
connecting forces are in equilibrio ; and in this change of
relative situation, it appears that the connecting forces
which maintained the particles in their first situation were
not in equilibrio in some position intermediate between that
of the first and that of the last form. The force required
for changing this first form augmented with the change,
but only to a certain degree ; and during this process the
connecting forces always tended to the recovery of this first
form. But after the change of mutual position has passed
a certain magnitude, the union has been partly destroyed,
and the particles have been brought into new situations;
such, that the forces which now connect each with its neigh¬
bour tend, not to the recovery of the first arrangement, but
to push them farther from it, into a new situation, to which
they now verge, and require force to prevent them from ac¬
quiring. The wire is now in fact again perfectly elastic;
that is, the forces which now connect the particles with
their neighbours, augment to a certain degree as the de¬
rangement from this new position augments. This is not
reasoning from any theory. It is narrating facts, on which
a theory is to be founded. What we have been just now
saying, is evidently a description of that sensible form of
tangible matter which we call ductility. It has every gra- Ductility,
dation of variety, from the softness of butter to the firmness
of gold. All these bodies have some elasticity ; but we say
they are not perfectly elastic, because they do not com¬
pletely recover their original form when it has been greatly
damaged. The whole gradation may be most distinctly ob¬
served in a piece of glass or hard sealing-wax. In the ordi¬
nary form glass is perhaps the most completely elastic body
that we know, and may be bent till just ready to snap, and
yet completely recovers its first form, and takes no set what¬
ever ; but when heated to such a degree as just to be visi¬
ble in'the dark, it loses its brittleness, and becomes so touo-h
that it cannot be broken by any blow ; but it is no longer
elastic, it takes any set, and keeps it. When more heated,
it becomes as plastic as clay ; but in this state is remarkably
distinguished from clay by a quality which we may call
viscidity, which is something like elasticity, of which clay Viscidity,
and other bodies purely plastic exhibit no appearance. This
750
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Observed
in all bo¬
dies
Particles
Strength of is the joint operation of strong adhesion and softness. \V hen
Materials. a r0(j 0f perfectly soft glass is suddenly stretched a little, it
‘ — " does not at once take the shape which it acquires after some
little time. It is owing to this that, in taking the impres¬
sion of a seal, if we take off the seal while the wax is yet
very hot, the sharpness of the impression is immediately
destroyed. Each part drawing its neighbour, and each part
yielding, the prominent parts are pulled down and blunted,
and the sharp hollows are pulled upwards and also blunted.
The seal must be keot on till the wax has become not only
stiff, but hard.
This viscidity is to be observed in all plastic bodies which
are homogeneous. It is not observed in clay, because clay
mogeneous js not homogeneous, but consists of hard particles of argil-
plastic bo- ]aceous earth sticking together by their attraction for water.
Something like it might be made of finely powdered glass
and a clammy fluid such as turpentine. Viscidity has all de¬
grees of softness, till it degenerates to ropy fluidity like that
of olive oil. Perhaps something of it may be found even in
the most perfect fluid with which we are acquainted, as we
observed in the experiments for ascertaining specific gravity.
When ductility and elasticity are combined in different
proportions, an immense variety of sensible modes of aggre¬
gation may be produced. Some degree of both are proba¬
bly to be observed in all bodies of complex constitution;
that is, which consist of particles made up of many differ¬
ent kinds of atoms. Such a constitution of a body must
afford many situations permanent, but easily deranged.
In all these changes of disposition which take place
acted on by among the particles of a ductile body, the particles are at
attractions such distance that they still cohere. The body may be
sionsrePUl" stretched a little; and on removing the extending force,
the body shrinks into its first form. It also resists mode¬
rate compressions ; and when the compressing force is re¬
moved, the body again swells out. Now the corpuscular
fact here is, that the particles are acted on by attractions
and repulsions, which balance each other when no external
force is acting on the body, and which augment as the par¬
ticles are made, by any external cause, to recede from this
situation of mutual inactivity; for since force is requisite to
produce either the dilatation or the compression, and to
maintain it, we are obliged, by the constitution of our
minds, to infer that it is opposed by a force accompanying
or inherent in every particle of dilatable or compressible
matter; and as this necessity of employing force to produce
a change indicates the agency of these corpuscular forces,
and marks their kind, according as the tendencies of the
particles appear to be toward each other in dilatation, or
from each other in compression ; so it also measures the de¬
grees of their intensity. Should it require three times the
force to produce a double compression, we must reckon the
mutual repulsions triple when the compression is doubled ;
The great and so in other instances. We see from all this that the
problem in phenomena of cohesion indicate some relation between the
larmecha- centres °f the particles. To discover this relation is the
nism. great problem in corpuscular mechanism, as it was in the
Newtonian investigation of the force of gravitation. Could
we discover this law of action between the corpuscles with
the same certainty and distinctness, we might with equal
confidence say what will be the result of any position which
we give to the particles of bodies; but this is beyond our
hopes. The law of gravitation is so simple, that the dis¬
covery or detection of it amid the variety of celestial phe¬
nomena required but one step ; and in its own nature its
possible combinations still do not greatly exceed the pow¬
ers of human research. One is almost disposed to say that
the Supreme Being has exhibited it to our reasoning pow¬
ers as sufficient to employ with success our utmost efforts,
but not so abstruse as to discourage us from the noble at¬
tempt. It seems to be otherwise with respect to cohesion.
Mathematics informs us, that if it deviates sensibly from the
law of gravitation, the simplest combinations will make the Strength of
joint action of several particles an almost impenetrable mys- Materials.^
tery. We must therefore content ourselves, for a long time
to come, with a careful observation of the simplest cases
that we can propose, and with the discovery of secondary
laws of action, in which many particles combine their influ-
In pursuance of this plan, we observe,
ence.
3. That whatever is the situation of the particles of a Particles
body with respect to each other, when in a quiescent state, kept in
they are kept in these situations by the balance of opposite ^heir Place*
forces. This cannot be refused, nor can we form to our- ja^eb^
selves any other notion of the state of the particles of afQrces>
body. Whether we suppose the ultimate particles to be of
certain magnitudes and shapes, touching each other in sin¬
gle points of cohesion ; or whether, with Boscovich, we con¬
sider them as at a distance from each other, and acting on
each other by attractions and repulsions, we must acknow¬
ledge, in the first place, that the centres of the particles
(by whose mutual distances we must estimate the distance
of the particles) may and do vary their distances from each
other. What else can we say when we observe a body in¬
crease in length, in breadth, and thickness, by heating it,
or when we see it diminish in all these dimensions by an
external compression ? A particle, therefore, situated in
the midst of many others, and remaining in that situation,
must be conceived as maintained in it by the mutual ba¬
lancing of all the forces which connect it with its neigh¬
bours. It is like a ball kept in its place by the opposite uiustra-
action of two springs. This illustration merits a more par- tion of thii
ticular application. Suppose a number of balls ranged onpr0P031*
the table in the angles of equilateral triangles, and that eachtl0n’
ball is connected with the six which lie around it by means
of an elastic wire curled like a cork-screw; suppose such
another stratum of balls above this, and parallel to it, and
so placed that each ball of the upper stratum is perpendi¬
cularly over the centre of the equilateral triangle below,
and let these be connected with the balls of the under
stratum by similar spiral wires. Let there be a third and
a fourth, and any number of such strata, all connected in
the same manner. It is plain that this may extend to any
size, and fill any space. Now let this assemblage of balls
be firmly contemplated by the imagination, and be sup¬
posed to shrink continually in all its dimensions, till the
balls, and their distances from each other, and the con¬
necting wires, all vanish from the sight as discrete indivi¬
dual objects. All this is very conceivable. It will now ap¬
pear like a solid body, having length, breadth, and thick¬
ness ; it may be compressed, and will again resume its di¬
mensions ; it may be stretched, and will again shrink; it
will move away when struck; in short, it will not differ
in its sensible appearance from a solid elastic body. Now
when this body is in a state of compression, for instance, it
is evident that any one of the balls is at rest, in consequence
of the mutual balancing of the actions of all the spiral wires
which connect it with those around it. It will greatly con¬
duce to the full understanding of all that follows to recur
to this illustration. The analogy or resemblance between
the effects of this constitution of things and the effects of
the corpuscular forces is very great; and wherever it ob¬
tains, we may safely draw conclusions from what we know
would be the condition of a body of common tangible mat¬
ter. We shall just give one instructive example, and then gy exam-
have done with this hypothetical body. We can suppose it pie.
of a long shape, resting on one point; we can suppose two
weights A, B, suspended at the extremities, and the whole in
equilibrio. We commonly express this state of things by
saying that A and B are in equilibrio. This is very inaccu¬
rate. A is in fact in equilibrio with the united action of
all the springs which connect the ball to which it is appli¬
ed with the adjoining balls. These springs are brought in¬
to action, and each is in equilibrio with the joint action of
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
751
Strength of all the rest. Thus through the whole extent of the hypo-
. _a e'~'a thetical body the springs are brought into action in a way
and in a degree which mathematics can easily investigate.
We need not do this : it is enough for our purpose that our
imagination readily discovers that some springs are stretch¬
ed, others are compressed, and that a pressure ^ is excited
on the middle point of support, and the support exerts a re¬
action which precisely balances it; and the other weight
is, in like manner, in immediate equilibrio with the equi¬
valent of the actions of all the springs which connect the
last ball with its neighbours. Now take the analogical or
resembling case, an oblong piece of solid matter, resting
on a fulcrum, and loaded with two weights in equilibrio ;
for the actions of the connecting springs substitute the
corpuscular forces ; and the result will resemble that of the
hypothesis.
Now, as there is something that is at least analogous to
a change of distance of the particles, and a concomitant
change of the intensity of the connecting forces, we may
express this in the same way that we are accustomed to do
in similar cases. Let A and B (fig. 1) represent the cen¬
tres of two parti¬
cles of a coherent Fig- B
elastic body in |
their quiescent
inactive state,
and let us consi¬
der only the me¬
chanical condi¬
tion of B. The
body may be
stretched. In this case the distance AB of the particles may
become AC. In this state there is something which makes it
necessary to employ a force to keep the particles at this dis¬
tance. C has a tendency towards A, or we may say that A
attracts C. We may represent the magnitudeof this tendency
of C towards A, or this attraction of A, by a line Cc perpen-
dicular to AC. Again, the body may be compressed, and
the distance AB may become AD. Something obliges us
to employ force to continue this compression, and D tends
from A, or A appears to repel D. The intensity of this
tendency or repulsion may be represented by another per¬
pendicular Dd; and, to represent the different directions
of these tendencies, or the different nature of these ac-
How Bos- tions, we may set Dd on the opposite side of AB. It is
covich re- in this manner that Boscovich has represented the ac-
r"vconf° tions of corpuscular forces in his celebrated Theory of
Natural Philosophy. Newton had said, that as the great
movements of the solar system were regulated by forces
operating at a distance, and varying with the distance, so
he strongly suspected (valde suspicor) that all the pheno¬
mena of cohesion, with all its modifications in the different
presents
the action
of corpus¬
cular
forces.
sensible forms of aggregation, and in the phenomena of
chemistry and physiology, resulted from the similar agency
of forces varying with the distance of the particles. The
learned Jesuit pursued this thought; and has shown, that
if we suppose an ultimate atom of matter endowed with
powers of attraction and repulsion, varying, both in kind
and degree, with the distance, and if this force be the same
in every atom, it may be regulated by such a relation to the
distance from the neighbouring atom, that a collection of
such may have all the sensible appearance of bodies in their
different forms of solids, liquids, and vapours, elastic or un¬
elastic, and endowed with all the properties which we per¬
ceive, by whose immediate operation the phenomena of mo¬
tion by impulse, and all the phenomena of chemistry, and
of animal and vegetable economy, may be produced. He
shows, that notwithstanding a perfect sameness, and even
a great simplicity, in this atomical constitution, there will
result from this union all that unspeakable variety of form
and property which diversifies and embellishes the face of
nature. We shall take another opportunity of giving such Strength of
an account of this celebrated work as it deserves. We Materials,
mention it only by the by, as far as a general notion of it
will be of some service on the present occasion. For this
purpose, we just observe that Boscovich conceives a par¬
ticle of any individual species of matter to consist of an un¬
known number of particles of simpler constitution ; each ot
which particles, in their turn, is compounded of particles
still more simply constituted, and so on through an unknown
number of orders, till we arrive at the simplest possible con¬
stitution of a particle of tangible matter, susceptible of
length, breadth, and thickness, and necessarily consisting
of four atoms of matter. And he shows that the more com¬
plex we suppose the constitution of a particle, the more
must the sensible qualities of the aggregate resemble the
observed qualities of tangible bodies. In particular, he
shows how a particle may be so constituted, that although
it act on one other particle of the same kind through a con¬
siderable interval, the interposition of a third particle of
the same kind may render it totally, or almost totally, in¬
active ; and therefore an assemblage of such particles would
form such a fluid as air. All these curious inferences are
made with uncontrovertible evidence ; and the greatest en¬
couragement is thus given to the mathematical philosopher
to hope, that by cautious and patient proceeding in this
way, we may gradually approach to a knowledge of the
laws of cohesion, that will not shun a comparison even with
the Principia of Newton. No step can be made in this
investigation, but by observing with care, and generalizing
with judgment, the phenomena, which are abundantly nu¬
merous, and much more at our command than those of the
great and sensible motions of bodies. Following this plan,
we observe,
4. It is a matter of fact, that every body has some degree Everybody
of compressibility and dilatability; and when the changes compressi-
of dimension are so moderate that the body completely re-ble an<i di‘
covers its original dimensions on the cessation of the chang-lata*de'
ing force, the extensions or compressions are sensibly pro¬
portional to the extending of compressing forces; and there¬
fore the connecting forces are proportional to the distances of
the particles from their quiescent, neutral, or inactive posi¬
tions. This seems to have been first viewed as a law of Law of na-
nature by the penetrating eye of Dr Robert Hooke, one ofture dis-
the most eminent philosophers of the last century. He pub-covered by
lished a cipher, which he said contained the theory of spring!- Dr Hooke!
ness and of the motions of bodies by the action of springs.
It was this, ceiiinosssttuu. When explained in his
dissertation, published some years after, it was ut tensio sic
vis. This is precisely the proposition now asserted as a
general fact, a law of nature. This dissertation is full of
curious observations of facts in support of his assertion. In
his application to the motion of bodies, he gives his noble
discovery of the balance-spring of a watch, which is found¬
ed on this law. The spring, as it is more and more coiled
up, or unwound, by the motion of the balance, acts on it
with a force proportional to the distance of the balance from
its quiescent position. The balance, therefore, is acted on
by an accelerating force, which varies in the same manner
as the force of gravity acting on a pendulum swinging in a
cycloid. Its vibrations therefore must be performed in
equal time, whether they are wide or narrow. In the same
dissertation Hooke mentions all the facts which John Ber¬
noulli afterwards adduced in support of Leibnitz’s whimsical
doctrine of the force of bodies in motion, as the doctrine of
the vires vivce ; a doctrine which Hooke might justly have
claimed as his own, had he not seen its futility.
Experiments made since the time of Hooke show thatand con-
this law is strictly true in the extent to which we have li.firmed by_
mited it, viz. in all the changes of form which will be com- ^nts of”*
pletely undone by the elasticity of the body. It is nearly£therL°
true to a much greater extent. James Bernoulli, in his dis-
752
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
When a
body is
much di¬
lated, a
small ad¬
dition of
force will
Strength of sertation on the elastic curve, relates some experiments of
Materials, own, wnich seem to deviate considerably ii om it, but
V jr~ v ~"J-J on close examination they do not. The finest experiments
are those of Coulomb, published in some late volumes of
the Memoirs of the Academy of Paris. He suspended balls
by wires, and observed their motions of oscillation, which
he found accurately corresponding with this law.
This we shall find to be a very important fact in the doc¬
trine of the strength of bodies, and we desire the reader to
make it familiar to his mind. If we apply to this our man¬
ner of expressing these forces by perpendicular ordinates
Cc, Dd (fig. 1), we must take other situations E, F, of
the particle B, and draw Ee, Ef; and we must have Dd
. Yf— BD : BF, or Cc : Ee = BC : BE. In such a sup¬
position EdEce must be a straight line. But we shall have
abundant evidence by and by that this cannot be strictly
true, and that the line Bee, which limits the ordinates ex¬
pressing the attractive forces, becomes concave towards the
line ABE, and that the part BJf is convex towards it. All
that can be safely concluded from the experiments hitherto
made is, that to a certain extent the forces, both attractive
and repulsive, are sensibly proportional to the dilatations
and compressions. For,
5. It is universally observed, that when the dilatations
have proceeded a certain length, a less addition of force is
sufficient to increase the dilatation in the same degree.
This is always observed when the body has been so far
stretched that it takes a set, and does not completely re-
  cover its form. The like may be generally observed in
increase its compressions. Most persons will recollect, that in violently
dilatation. stretching an elastic cord, it becomes suddenly weaker, or
more easily stretched. But these phenomena do not posi¬
tively prove a diminution of the corpuscular force acting on
one particle : it more probably arises from the disunion of
some particles whose action contributed to the whole or
sensible effect. And in compressions we may suppose
something of the same kind ; for when we compress a body
in one direction, it commonly bulges out in another ; and
in cases of very violent action some particles may be dis¬
united, whose transverse action had formerly balanced part
of the compressing force. For the reader will see on reflec¬
tion, that since the compression in one direction causes the
body to bulge out in the transverse direction, and since^
this bulging out is in opposition to the transverse forces of
attraction, it must employ some part of the compressing
force. And the common appearances are in perfect uni¬
formity with this conception of things. When we press a
bit of dryish clay, it swells out and cracks transversely.
When a pillar of wood is overloaded, it swells out, and small
crevices appear in the direction of the fibres. After this it
will not bear half of the load. This the carpenters call
crippling ; and a knowledge of the circumstances which
modify it is of great importance, and enables us to under¬
stand some very paradoxical appearances, as will be shown
by and by.
This partial disuniting of particles formerly cohering, is,
we imagine, the chief reason why the totality of the foices
which really oppose an external strain does not increase in
the proportion of the extensions and compressions. But
sufficient evidence will also be given that the forces which
would connect one particle with one other particle do not
augment in the accurate proportion of the change of dis¬
tance ; that in extensions they increase more slowly, and
in compressions more rapidly.
But there is another cause of this deviation perhaps
equally effectual with the former. Most bodies manifest
some degree of ductility. Now what is this ? I he fact is,
that the parts have taken a new arrangement, in which they
again cohere. Therefore, in the passage to this new ar¬
rangement, the sensible forces, which are the joint result of
many corpuscular forces, begin to respect this new arrange¬
ment instead of the former. This must change the simple Strength of
law of corpuscular force, characteristic of the particular Materials.
species of matter under examination. It does not require ' Y ^
much reflection to convince us that the possible arrange¬
ments which the particles of a body may acquire, without
appearing to change their nature, must be more numerous
according as the particles are of a more complex constitu¬
tion ; and it is reasonable to suppose that the constitution
even of the most simple kind of matter that we are ac¬
quainted with is exceedingly complex. Our microscopes
show us animals so minute, that a heap of them must ap¬
pear to the naked eye an uniform mass with a grain finer
than that of the finest marble or razor hone ; and yet each
of these has not only limbs, but bones, muscular fibres,
blood-vessels, fibres, and a blood consisting in all probabi¬
lity of globules organized and complex like our own. The
imagination is here lost in wonder ; and nothing is left us
but to adore inconceivable art and wisdom, and to exult in
the thought that we are the only spectators of this beauti¬
ful scene who can derive pleasure from the view. But let
us proceed to observe,
6. That the forces which connect the particles of tan- The forces
gible bodies change by a change of distance, not only in which con-
degree, but also in kind. The particle B (fig. 1) is attract-of
ed by A when in the situation C or E. It is repelled by Fungible
when at D or F. It is not affected by it when in the situa- bodies
tion B. The reader is requested carefully to remark, that change by
this is not an inference founded on the authority of our^ cbange °f
mathematical figure. The figure is an expression (to as-(lls ance‘
sist the imagination) of facts in nature. It requires no force
to keep the particles of a body in their quiescent situations:
but if they be separated by stretching the body, they en¬
deavour (pardon the figurative expression) to come together
again. If they be brought nearer by compression, they
endeavour to recede. This endeavour is manifested by the
necessity of employing force to maintain the extension or
condensation ; and we represent this by the different posi¬
tion of our lines. But this is not all: the particle B, which
is repelled by A when in the situation F or D, is neutral
when at B, and is attracted when at C or E, may be placed
Ductility
another
cause of
deviation.
at such a distance AG from A greater than AB that it shall
be again repelled, or at such a distance AH that it shall
be again attracted ; and these alterations may be repeated
again and again. This is curious and important, and re¬
quires something more than a bare assertion for its proof.
In the article Optics we mentioned the most curiousLightalter-
and valuable observations of Sir Isaac Newton, by which itnately at-
appears that light is thus alternately attracted and repelled^actedand
by bodies. The rings of colour which appear betweenieiJe
the object-glasses of long telescopes showed, that in the
small interval of 1010-^th of an inch, there are at least an
hundred such changes observable, and that it is highly
probable that these alternations extend to a much greater
distance. At one of these distances the light actually con¬
verges towards the solid matter of the glass, which we
express shortly by saying that it is attracted by it, and
that at the next distance it declines from the glass, or is
repelled by it. The same thing is more simply inferred
from the phenomena of light passing by the edges of
knives and other opaque bodies. We refer the reader to
the experiments themselves, the detail being too long for
this place ; and we request him to consider them minutely
and attentively, and to form distinct notions of the infer¬
ences drawn from them. And we desire it to be remark¬
ed, that although Newton, in his discussion, always con¬
siders light as a set of corpuscles moving in free space, and
obeying the actions of external forces like any other mat¬
ter, the particular conclusion in which we are just now in¬
terested does not at all depend on this notion of the nature
of light. Should we, with Descartes or Huygens, sup¬
pose light to be the undulation of an elastic medium, the
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
753
tides of
other bo¬
dies, as
Strength of conclusion will be the same. The undulations at cer-
Materialg. tain distances are disturbed by forces directed towards the
body, and at a greater distance the disturbing forces tend
from the body.
The same But the same alternations of attraction and repulsion
alterna- may be observed between the particles of common matter,
tions of at- jf we take a piece of very flat and well-polished glass, such
and repul- as mac*e f°r the horizon-glasses of a good Hadley’s quad-
sion ob- rantj and if we wrap round it a fibre of silk as it comes from
servable in the cocoon, taking care that the fibre shall nowhere cross
the par- another, and then press this pretty hard on such another
piece of glass, it will lift it up and keep it suspended. The
particles therefore of the one do most certainly attract
those of the other, and this at a distance equal to the
thickness of the silk fibre. This is nearly the limit; and
it sometimes requires a considerable pressure to produce
the effect. The pressure is effectual only by compressing
the silk fibre, and thus diminishing the distance between
the glass plates. This adhesion cannot be attributed to
the pressure of the atmosphere, because there is nothing
to hinder the air from insinuating itself between the plates,
since they are separated by the silk. Besides, the experi*
ment succeeds equally well under the receiver of an air-
pump. This most valuable experiment was first made by
Huygens, who reported it to the Royal Society. It is
narrated in the Philosophical Transactions, No. 86.
Here, then, is an attraction acting, like gravity, at a dis¬
tance. But take away the silk fibre, and try to make the
glasses touch each other, and we shall find a very great
force necessary. By Newton’s experiments it appears, that
unless the prismatic colours begin to appear between the
glasses, they are at least jj^th of an inch asunder or more.
Now we know that a very considerable force is necessary
for producing these colours, and that the more we press
the glasses together the more rings of colours appear. It
also appears from Newton’s measures, that the difference
of distance between the glasses where each of these colours
appears is about the 89,000th part of an inch. We know
further, that when we have produced the last appearance
of a greasy or pearly colour, and then augment the pres¬
sure, making it about 1000 pounds on the square inch, all
colours vanish, and the two pieces of glass seem to make
one transparent undistinguishable mass. They appear now
to have no air between them, or to be in mathematical
contact. But another fact shows this conclusion to be
premature. The same circles of colours appear in the top
of a soap-bubble; and as it grows thinner at top, there
appears an unreflecting spot in the middle. We have the
greatest probability therefore that the perfect transparency
in the middle of the two glasses does not arise from their
being in contact, but because the thickness of air be¬
tween them is too small in that place for the reflection of
light. Nay, Newton expressly found no reflection where
the thickness was fths or more of the 7^00^ Part an
inch.
All this while the glasses are strongly repelling each
other, for great pressure is necessary for continuing the
appearance of those colours, and they vanish in succession
as the pressure is diminished. This vanishing of the co¬
lours is a proof that the glasses are moving off from each
other, or repelling each other. But we can put an end to
this repulsion by very strong pressure, and at the same
time sliding the glasses on each other. We do not pretend
to account for this effect of the sliding motion; but the
fact is, that by so doing, the glasses will cohere with very
great force, so that we shall break them by any attempt to
pull them asunder. It commonly happens (at least it did
so with us), that in this sliding compression of two smooth
flat plates of glass, they scratch and mutually destroy each
other’s surface. It is also worth remarking, that different
kinds of glass exhibit different properties in this respect.
VOL. xx.
Flint glass will attract even though a silk fibre lies double Strength of
between them, and they much more readily cohere by this Materials.
sliding pressure. J
Here, then, are two distances at which the plates of glass
attract each other; namely, when the silk fibre is inter¬
posed, and when they are forced together with this sliding
motion. And in any intermediate situation they repel
each other. We see the same thing in other solid bodies.
Two pieces of lead, made perfectly clean, may be made Lead and
to cohere by grinding them together in the same manner.iron.
It is in this way that pretty ornaments of silver are united
to iron. The piece is scraped clean, and a small bit of
silver like a fish scale is laid on. The die which is to
strike it into a flower or other ornament is then set on it,
and we give it a smart blow, which forces the metals into
contact as firm as if they were soldered together. It some¬
times happens that the die adheres to the coin so that they
cannot be separated: and it is found that this frequently
happens when the engraving is such that the raised figure
is not completely surrounded with a smooth flat ground.
The probable cause of this is curious. When the coin has
a flat surface all around, this is produced by the most pro¬
minent part of the die. This applies to the metal, and
completely confines the air which filled the hollow of the
die. As the pressure goes on, the metal is squeezed upprobable
into the hollow of the die; but there is still air compressed cause why
between them, which cannot escape by any passage. It the die ad-
is therefore prodigiously condensed, and exerts an elasti-^e.res tot^e
city proportioned to the condensation. This serves tocom'
separate the die from the metal when the stroke is over.
The hollow part of the die has not touched the metal all
the while, and we may say that the impression was made
by air. If this air escape by any engraving reaching
through the border, they cohere inseparably.
We have admitted that the glass plates are in contact
when they adhere thus firmly. But we are not certain
of this: for if we take these cohering glasses, and touch
them with water, it quickly insinuates itself between them.
Yet they still cohere, but can now be pretty easily sepa¬
rated.
It is owing to this repulsion, exerted through its proper jjepU]s;on
sphere, that certain powders swim on the surface of water, the cause of
and are wetted with great difficulty. Certain insects can somebodies
run about on the surface of water. They have brushy
feet, which occupy a considerable surface, and if their steps Specificaiiy
be viewed with a magnifying glass, the surface of the water lighter than
is seen depressed all around, resembling the footsteps of athemselves.
man walking on feather beds. This is owing to a repulsion
between the brush and the water. A common fly cannot
walk in this manner on water. Its feet are wetted, because
they attract the water instead of repelling it. A steel needle,
slightly greased, will lie on the surface of water, make an
impression as a great bar would make on a feather bed;
and its weight is less than that of the displaced water. A
dew-drop lies on the leaves of plants without touching them
mathematically, as is plain from the extreme brilliancy of
the reflection at the posterior surface; nay, it may be some¬
times observed that the.drops of rain lie on the surface of
water, and roll about on it like balls on a table. Yet all
these substances can be wetted; that is, water can be ap¬
plied to them at such distances that they attract it.
What we lately remarked of water insinuating itself be¬
tween the glass plates without altogether destroying their
cohesion, shows that this cohesion is not the same that ob¬
tains between the particles of one of the plates ; that is, the
two plates are not in the state of one continued mass. It
is highly probable, therefore, that between these two states
there is an intermediate state of repulsion, nay, perhaps,
many such, alternated with attractive states.
A piece of ice is elastic, for it rebounds and rings. Its
particles, therefore, when compressed, resile; and when
5 c
754
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of stretched, contract again. The particles are therefore in
Materials. ti,e state represented by B in figure 1, acted on by re^il-
sive forces if brought nearer, and by attractive forces if
drawn further asunder. Ice expands, like all other bodies,
by heat. It absorbs a vast quantity of fire, which, by com¬
bining its attractions and repulsions with those of the par¬
ticles of ice, changes completely the law of action, and
the ice becomes water. In this new state the particles
are again in limits between attractive and repulsive forces ;
for water has been shown, by the experiments of Canton
and Zimmerman, to be elastic or compressible. It again
expands by heat. It again absorbs a prodigious quantity
of heat, and becomes elastic vapour; its particles repelling
each other at all distances yet observed. The distance be¬
tween the particles of one plate of glass and those of another
which lies on it, and is carried by it, is a distance of repul¬
sion ; for the force which supports the upper piece is acting
in opposition to its weight. This distance is less than that
at which it would suspend it below it with a silk fibre inter¬
posed ; for no prismatic colours appear between them when
the silk fibre is interposed. But the distance at which glass
attracts water is much less than this, for no colours appear
when glass is wetted with water. This distance is less, and
not greater, than the other; for when the glasses have water
interposed between them instead of air, it is found, that
when any particular colour appears, the thickness of the
plate of water is to that of the plate of air which would pro¬
duce the same colour, nearly as three to four. Now, if a
piece of glass be wetted, and exhibit no colour, and another
piece of glass be simply laid on it, no colour will appear;
but if they are strongly pressed, the colours appear in the
same manner as if the glasses had air between. Also, when
glass is simply wetted, and the film of urater is allowed to
evaporate, when it is thus reduced to a proper thinness the
colours show themselves in great beauty.
Particles of These are a few of many thousand facts, by which it is
matteJ ^on‘ unquestionably proved that the particles of tangible matter
nected by are connecte(j by forces acting at a distance, varying with
ing at a t^ie distance, and alternately attractive and repulsive. If
we represent these forces, as we have already done in fig. 1,
by the ordinates Cc, Dd, Ee, Yf, &c. of a curve, it is evi¬
dent that this curve must cross the axis at all those distan¬
ces where the forces change from attractive to repulsive,
and the curve must have branches alternately above and
below the axis.
All these alternations of attraction and repulsion take
place at small and insensible distances. At all sensible dis¬
tances the particles are influenced by the attraction of gra¬
vitation ; and therefore this part of the curve must be a
hyperbola whose equation is What is the form of
Vii'
.bn
till.!
distance.
the curve corresponding to the smallest distance of the par¬
ticles? that is, what is the mutual action between the par¬
ticles just before their coming into absolute contact? Ana¬
logy should lead us to suppose it to be repulsion; for soli¬
dity is the last and simplest form of bodies with which we
are acquainted. Fluids are more compounded, containing
fire as an essential ingredient. We should conclude that
this ultimate repulsion is insuperable, for the hardest bodies
are the most elastic. We are fully entitled to say that this
repelling force exceeds all that we have ever yet applied to
overcome it; nay, there are good reasons for saying that
this ultimate repulsion, by which the particles are kept
from mathematical contact, is really insuperable in its own
nature, and that it is impossible to produce mathematical
contact.
Mathema- We shall just mention one of these, which we consider
tic»il con- as unanswerable. Suppose two atoms, or ultimate particles
Uc^impos-pf matter ^ an(j Let ^ ^ at rest, and B move up to
it with the velocity 2; and let us suppose that it comes into
mathematical contact, and impels it (according to the com- Strength of
mon acceptation of the word). Both move with the velo- Metenai*.
city 1. This is granted by all to be the final result of the ^
collision. Now the instant of time in which this commu¬
nication happens is no part either of the duration of the
solitary motion of A, nor of the joint motion of A and B :
it is the separation or boundary between them. It is at
once the end of the first and the beginning of the second,
belonging equally to both. A was moving with the volocity 2.
The distinguishing circumstance, therefore, of its mechani¬
cal state is, that it has a determination (however incompre¬
hensible) by which it would move for ever with the veloci¬
ty 2, if nothing changed it. This it has during the whole
of its solitary motion, and therefore in the last instant of
this motion. In like manner, during the whole of the joint
motion, and therefore in the first instant of this motion, the
atom A has a determination by which it would move for
ever with the velocity 1. In one and the same instant,
therefore, the atom A has two incompatible determinations.
Whatever notion we can form of this state, which we call
velocity, as a distinction of condition, the same impossibi¬
lity of conception, or the same absurdity, occurs. Nor can
it be avoided in any other way than by saying, that this
change of A’s motion is brought about by insensible grada¬
tions ; that is, that A and B influence each other precisely
as they would do if a slender spring were interposed. The
reader is desired to look at what we have said in the article
Physics.
The two magnets there spoken of are good representa¬
tives of two atoms endowed with mutual powers of repul¬
sion ; and the communication of motion is accomplished in
both cases in precisely the same manner.
If, therefore, we shall ever be so fortunate as to discover
the law of variation of that force which connects one atom
of matter with another atom, and which is therefore charac¬
teristic of matter, and the ultimate source of all its sensible
qualities, the curve whose ordinates represent the kind and
the intensity of this atomical force will be something like
that sketched in fig. 2. The first branch a » B will have
Fig. 2.
AK (perpendicular to the axis AH) for its assymptote, and
the last branch Imo will be to all sense a hyperbola, having
AO for its assymptote; and the ordinates /L, mM, &c. will
be proportional to &c. expressing the universal
gravitation of matter. It will have many branches B&C,
DcTE, F/G, &c. expressing attractions, and alternate repul¬
sive branches CcD, EeF, G9H, &c. All these will be con¬
tained within a distance AH, which does not exceed a very
minute fraction of an inch.
The simplest particle which can be a constituent of a The sim-
body having length, breadth, and thickness, must consist ofP^est ex'
four such atoms, all of which combine their influence on
each atom of another such particle. It is evident that the ^ts 0j four
curve which expresses the force that connects two such par-atoms,
tides must be totally different from this original curve, this
hylarchic principle. Supposing the last known, our mathe¬
matical knowledge is quite able to discover the first; but
when we proceed to compose a body of particles, each of
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
755
Strength ofwhich consists of four such particles, we may venture to
Material3. say t]lat tjle compound force which connects them is al-
Y most beyond our search, and that the discovery of the pri¬
mary force from an accurate knowledge of the corpuscular
forces of this particular matter is absolutely out of our
power.
All that we can learn is, the possibility, nay, the certain¬
ty, of an innumerable variety of external sensible forms and
qualities, by which different kinds of matter will be dis¬
tinguished, arising from the number, the order of composi¬
tion, and the arrangement of the subordinate particles of
which a particle of this or that kind of matter is composed.
All these varieties will take place at those small and insen¬
sible distances which are between A and H, and may pro¬
duce all that variety which we observe in the tangible or
mechanical forms of bodies, such as elasticity, ductility,
hardness, softness, fluidity, vapour, and all those unseen
motions or actions which we observe in fusion and conge¬
lation, evaporation and condensation, solution and precipi¬
tation, crystallization, vegetable and animal assimilation and
secretion, &c.; while all bodies must be, in a certain de¬
gree, elastic, all must gravitate, and all must be incompe-
netrable.
This general and satisfactory resemblance between the
appearance of tangible matter and the legitimate conse¬
quence of this general hypothetical property of an atom of
matter, affords a considerable probability that such is the
origin of all the phenomena. We earnestly recommend to
our readers a careful perusal of Boscovich’s celebrated trea¬
tise. A careful perusal is necessary for seeing its value ;
and nothing will be got by a hasty inspection. The reader
will be particularly pleased with the facility and evidence
with which the ingenious author has deduced all the ordi¬
nary principles of mechanics, and with the explanation
which he has given of fluidity, and his deduction from thence
of the laws of hydrostatics. No part of the treatise is more
valuable than the doctrine of the propagation of pressure
through solid bodies. This, however, is but just touched
on in the course of the investigation of the principles of
mechanics. We shall borrow as much as will suffice for
our present inquiry into the strength of materials; and we
trust that our readers are not displeased with this general
sketch of the doctrine (if it may be so called) of the cohe-
The doc- sion of bodies. It is curious and important in itself, and is the
trine of co- foundation of all the knowledge which we can acquire of the
hesion yet present article. We are sorry to say that it is as yet a new
jectWSU ' subject of study ; but it is a very promising one, and we by
no means despair of seeing the whole of chemistry brought
by its means within the pale of mechanical science. The
great and distinguishing agent in chemistry is heat, or fire
the cause of heat; and one of its most singular effects is the
conversion of bodies into elastic vapour. We have the
clearest evidence that this is brought about by mechanical
forces; for it can be opposed or prevented by external pres¬
sure, a very familiar mechanical force. We may perhaps
find another mechanical force which will prevent fusion.
Having now made our readers familiar with the mode
of action in which cohesion operates in giving strength to
solid bodies, we proceed to consider the strains to which
this strength is opposed.
Strains to A piece of solid matter is exposed to four kinds of strains,
• <^fferer|t in the manner of their operation,
opposed S ^ may be .torn asunder, as in the case of ropes,
stretchers, king-posts, tie-beams, &c.
2. It may be crushed, as in the case of pillars, posts, and
truss-beams.
3. It may be broken across, as happens to a joist or lever
of any kind.
4. It may be wrenched or twisted, as in the case of the
axle of a wheel the nail of a press, &c.
I IT MAY BE PULLED ASUNDER.
Strength of
Materials.
This is the simplest of all strains, and the others are in-
deed modifications of it. To this the force of cohesion ismay
directly opposed, with very little modification of its action pUned
by any particular circumstances. asunder; K|
When a long cylindrical or prismatic body, such as a rod
of wood or metal, or a rope, is drawn by one end, it must
be resisted at the other, in order to bring its cohesion into
action. When it is fastened at one end, we cannot con¬
ceive it any other way than as equally stretched in all its
parts ; for all our observations and experiments on natural
bodies concur in showing us that the forces which con¬
nect their particles in any way whatever are equal and op¬
posite. This is called the third law of motion ; and we ad¬
mit its universality, while we affirm that it is purely expe¬
rimental. Yet we have met with dissertations by persons
of eminent knowledge, w'here propositions are maintained
inconsistent with this. During the dispute about the com¬
munication of motion, some of the ablest writers have said,
that a spring compressed or stretched at the two ends was
gradually less and less compressed or stretched from the ex¬
tremities towards the middle: but the same writers acknow¬
ledged the universal equality of action and re-action, which
is quite incompatible with this state of the spring. No such
inequality of compression or dilatation has ever been observ¬
ed ; and a little reflection will show it to be impossible, in
consistency with the equality of action and re-action.
Since all parts are thus equally stretched, it follows that
the strain in any transverse section is the same, as also in
every point of that section. If therefore the body be sup¬
posed of a homogeneous texture, the cohesion of the parts
is equable; and since every part is equally stretched, the
particles are drawn to equal distances from their quiescent
positions, and the forces which are thus excited, and now
exerted in opposition to the straining force, are equal. This
external force may be increased by degrees, which will
gradually separate the parts of the body more and more
from each other, and the connecting forces increase with
this increase of distance, till at last the cohesion of some
particles is overcome. This must be immediately followed
by a rupture, because the remaining forces are now weaker
than before. *
It is the united force of cohesion, immediately before the
disunion of the first particles, that we call the strength of
the section. It may also be properly called its absolute
strength, being exerted in the simplest form, and not modi¬
fied by any relation to other circumstances.
If the external force have not produced any permanent a circum-
change on the body, and it therefore recovers its former stance to
dimensions when the force is withdrawn, it is plain that this^eatten^
strain may be repeated as often as we please, and the body Construe ^
which withstands it once will always withstand it. It istion re-
evident that this should be attended to in all constructions, quiring
and that in all our investigations on this subject this should strength,
be kept strictly in view. When we treat a piece of soft
clay in this manner, and with this precaution, the force em¬
ployed must be very small. If we exceed this, we produce
a permanent change. The rod of clay is not indeed torn
asunder, but it has become somewhat more slender; the
number of particles in a cross section is now smaller ; and
therefore, although it will again, in this new form, suffer or
allow an endless repetition of a certain strain without any
farther permanent change, this strain is smaller than the
former.
Something of the same kind happens in all bodies which
receive a set by the strain to which they are exposed. All
ductile bodies are of this kind. But there are many bodies
which are not ductile. Such bodies break completely when¬
ever they are stretched beyond the limit of their perfect
elasticity. Bodies of a fibrous structure exhibit very great
756
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Great va¬
rieties in
cohesion,
but
Strength of varieties in their cohesion. In some the fibres have no la-
Materials. teral cohesion, as in the case of a rope. The only way in
which all the fibres can be made to unite their strength, is
to twist them together. This causes them to bind each
other so fast, that any one t>f them will break before it can
be drawn out of the bundle. In other fibrous bodies, such
as timber, the fibres are held together by some cement or
gluten. This is seldom as strong as the fibre. Accord¬
ingly timber is much easier pulled asunder in a direction
transverse to the fibres. There is, however, every possible
variety in this particular.
In stretching and breaking fibrous bodies, the visible ex¬
tension is frequently very considerable. This is not solely
the increasing of the distance of the particles of the coher¬
ing fibre ; the greatest part chiefly arises from drawing the
crooked fibre straight. In this, too, there is great diversi¬
ty ; and it is accompanied with important differences in
their power of withstanding a strain. In some woods, such
as fir, the fibres on which the strength most depends are
very straight. Such woods are commonly very elastic, do
not take a set, and break abruptly when overstrained:
others, such as oak and birch, have their resisting fibres
very undulating and crooked, and stretch very sensibly by
a strain. They are very liable to take a set, and they do
not break so suddenly, but give warning by complaining,
as the carpenters call it; that is, by giving visible signs of
a derangement of texture. Hard bodies of an uniform
glassy structure, or granulated like stones, are elastic through
the whole extent of their cohesion, and take no set, but
break at once when overloaded.
Notwithstanding the immense variety which nature ex¬
hibits in the structure and cohesion of bodies, there are cer¬
tain general facts of which we may now avail ourselves with
advantage. In particular,
The absolute cohesion is proportional to the area of the
section. This must be the case where the texture is per¬
fectly uniform, as we have reason to think it is in glass and
the ductile metals. The cohesion of each particle being
the whole cohesion must be proportional to their
area of the number, that is, to the area of the section. The same must
section per-be admitted with respect to bodies of a granulated texture,
pemlicular wbere the granulation is regular and uniform. The same
° ie ex mugj. bg admitted of fibrous bodies, if we suppose their fibres
equally strong, equally dense, and similarly disposed through
the whole section; and this we must either suppose, or
must state the diversity, and measure the cohesion accord-
ingly.
We may therefore assert, as a general proposition on this
subject, that the absolute strength in any part of a body, by
which it resists being pulled asunder, or the force which
must be employed to tear it asunder in that part, is propor¬
tional to the area of the section perpendicular to the ex¬
tending force.
Therefore all cylindrical or prismatical rods are equally
strong in every part, and will break alike in any part; and
bodies which have unequal sections will always break in
the slenderest part. The length of the cylinder or prism
has no effect on the strength. Also the absolute strengths
of bodies which have similar sections are proportional to
the squares of their diameters or homologous sides of the
section.
The weight of the body itself may be employed to strain
it and to break it. It is evident, that a rope may be so long
as to break by its own weight. When the rope is hanging
perpendicularly, although it is equally strong in every part,
it will break towards the upper end, because the strain on
any part is the weight of all that is below it. Its relative
strength in any part, or power of withstanding the strain
the abso¬
lute cohe¬
sion or
strength
proportion¬
al to the alike,
tending
force.
which is actually laid on it, is inversely as the quantity be- Strength of
low that part. Materials.
When the rope is stretched horizontally, as in towing a ^ v """"
ship, the strain arising from its weight often bears a very
sensible proportion to its whole strength.
These are the chief general rules which can be safely
deduced from our clearest notions of the cohesion of bodies.
In order to make any practical use of them, it is proper to
have some measures of the cohesion of such bodies as are
commonly employed in our mechanics, and other structures
where they are exposed to this kind of strain. These must The cohe-
be deduced solely from experiment; therefore they must s>on of me-
be considered as no more than general values, or as thepe^dson
averages of many particular trials. The irregularities are various cir-
very great, because none of the substances are constant in cumstan-
their texture and firmness. Metals differ by a thousand ces.
circumstances unknown to us, according to their purity,
to the heat with which they were melted, to the moulds
in which they were cast, and the treatment they have
afterwards received, by forging, wire-drawing, temper¬
ing, &c.
It is a very curious and inexplicable fact, that by forging
a metal, or by frequently drawing it through a smooth hole
in a steel plate, its cohesion is greatly increased. This
operation undoubtedly deranges the natural situation of
the particles. They are squeezed closer together in one
direction, but it is not in the direction in which they resist
the fracture. In this direction they are rather separated
to a greater distance. The general density, however, is
augmented in all of them except lead, which grows rather
rarer by wire-drawing; but its cohesion may be more than
tripled by this operation. Gold, silver, and brass, have
their cohesion nearly tripled ; copper and iron have it more
than doubled. In this operation they also grow much
harder. It is proper to heat them to redness after drawing
a little. This is called nealing or annealing. It softens
the metal again, and renders it susceptible of another draw¬
ing without the risk of cracking in the operation.
We do not pretend to give any explanation of this re¬
markable and very important fact, which has something re¬
sembling it in woods and other fibrous bodies, as will be
mentioned afterwards.
The varieties in the cohesion of stones and other minerals,
and of vegetable and animal substances, are hardly suscep¬
tible of any description or classification.
We shall take for the measure of cohesion the number Cohesion
of pounds avoirdupois which are just sufficient to tear asun- and
der a rod or bundle of one inch square. From this it will 0
be easy to compute the strength corresponding to any other
dimension.
Relative
strength.
ls£, Metals.
lbs.
r 20,000
  \ 24,000
) 40,000
  \ 43,000
"Japan   19,000
Barbary 22,000
Hungary 31,000
Anglesea   34,000
Sweden 37,000
J 42,000
  I 59,000
{Ordinary 68,000
Stirian 75,000
Best Swedish and Russian 84,000
Horse-nails 71 ^OO1
Gold, cast..
Silver, cast.,
Copper, cast, <
Iron, cast.
1 This was an experiment by Musohenbroeck, to examine the vulgar notion that iron forged from old horse-nails was stronger than all
others, and shows its falsity.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
757
| Engli
Tenacity
of metals
increased
by mix¬
tures.
Strength of c* i i, /Soft 120,000
Materials. ee > ar •••• | Razor temper 150,000
f Malacca 3,100
j Banca 3,600
Tin, cast <{ Block 3,800
lish block 5,200
grain 6,500
Lead, cast 860
Regulusof antimony 1,000
Zinc 2,600
Bismuth 2,900
It is very remarkable, that almost all the mixtures of me¬
tals are more tenacious than the metals themselves. The
change of tenacity depends much on the proportion of the
ingredients, and the proportion which produces the most
tenacious mixture is different in the different metals. We
have selected the following from the experiments of Mus-
chenbroeck. The proportion of ingredients here selected
is that which produces the greatest strength.
Two parts of gold with one of silver 28,000
Five parts of gold with one of copper 50,000
Five parts of silver with one of copper 48,500
Four parts of silver with one of tin 41,000
Six parts of copper with one of tin 41,000
Five parts of Japan copper with one of Banca tin...57,000
Six parts of Chili copper with one of Malacca tin...60,000
Six parts of Swedish copper with one of Malacca tin 64,000
Brass consists of copper and zinc in an unknown pro¬
portion ; its strength is 51,000
Three parts of block-tin with one part of lead 10,200
Eight parts of block-tin with one part of zinc 10,000
Four parts of Malacca tin with one part of regulus
of antimony 12,000
Eight parts of lead with one of zinc  4,500
Four parts of tin with one of lead and one of zinc. ..13,000
These numbers are of considerable use in the arts. The
mixtures of copper and tin are particularly interesting in
the fabric of great guns. We see that, by mixing copper,
whose greatest strength does not exceed 37,000, with tin,
which does not exceed 6000, we produce a metal whose
tenacity is almost double, at the same time that it is harder
and more easily wrought. It is, however, more fusible,
which is a great inconvenience. We also see that a very
small addition of zinc almost doubles the tenacity of tin,
and increases the tenacity of lead five times ; and a small
addition of lead doubles the tenacity of tin. These are
economical mixtures. This is very valuable information to
the plumbers, for augmenting the strength of water-pipes.
By having recourse to these tables, the engineer can
proportion the thickness of his pipes, of whatever metal,
to the pressures to which they are exposed.
2c?, Woods.
We may premise to this part of the table the following
general observations.
Tenacity 1. The wood immediately surrounding the pith or heart
oi wood^ t^ie tree *S t^e wea^est’ ant* *ts inferiority is so much
W0° ‘ more remarkable as the tree is older. In this assertion,
however, we speak with some hesitation. Muschenbroeck’s
detail of experiments is decidedly in the affirmative. M.
Buffon, on the other hand, says that his experience has
taught him that the heart of a sound tree is the strongest;
but he gives no instances. From many observations of our
own on very large oaks and firs, we are certain that the
heart is much weaker than the exterior parts.
2. The wood next the bark, commonly called the white
or blea, is also weaker than the rest; and the wood gra¬
dually increases in strength as we recede from the centre
to the blea.
3. The wood is stronger in the middle of the trunk than
at the springing of the branches or at the root; and the Strength of
wood of the branches is weaker than that of the trunk. ^Materials.
4. The wood of the north side of all trees which grow in ^
our European climates is the weakest, and that of the south¬
east side is the strongest; and the difference is most re¬
markable in hedge-row trees, and such as grow singly. The
heart of a tree is never in its centre, but always nearer to
the north side, and the annual coats of wood are thinner on
that side. In conformity with this, it is a general opinion
of carpenters that timber is stronger whose annual plates
are thicker. The trachea or air-vessels are weaker than
the simple ligneous fibres. The air-vessels are the same
in diameter and number of rows in trees of the same spe¬
cies, and they make the visible separation between the
annual plates. Therefore, when these are thicker, they
contain a greater proportion of the simple ligneous fibres.
5. All woods are more tenacious while green, and lose
very considerably by drying after the trees are felled.
The only author who has put it in our power to judge of
the propriety of his experiments is Muschenbroeck. He
has described his method of trial minutely, and it seems
unexceptionable. The woods were all formed into slips
fit for his apparatus, and part of the slip was cut away to
a parallelepiped of /th of an inch square, and therefore ^yth
of a square inch in section. The absolute strengths of a
square inch were as follow:
lib.
Locust tree 20,100
Juleb 18,500
Beech, oak 17,300
Orange 15,500
Alder 13,900
Elm 13,200
Mulberry 12,500
Willow 12,500
Ash 12,000
Plum 11,800
Elder 10,000
Muschenbroeck has given a very minute detail of the
experiments on the ash and the walnut, stating the weights
which were required to tear asunder slips taken from the
four sides of the tree, and on each side, in a regular pro¬
gression from the centre to the circumference. The num¬
ber of this table corresponding to these two timbers may
therefore be considered as the average of more than fifty
trials made of each; and he says that all the others were
made with the same care. We cannot therefore see any
reason for not confiding in the results; yet they are con¬
siderably higher than those given by some other writers.
Mr Pitot, on the authority of his own experiments, and of
those of Mr Parent, avers that sixty pounds will just tear
asunder a square line of sound oak, and that it will bear
fifty with safety. This gives 8640 for the utmost strength
of a square inch, which is much inferior to Muschenbroeck’s
valuation.
We may add to these,
Ivory 16,270
Bone  5,250
Horn  8,750
Whalebone  7,500
Tooth of sea-calf.  4,075
The reader will surely observe, that these numbers ex- No sub-
press something more than the utmost cohesion; for the stance to
weights are such as will very quickly, that is, in a minute
or two, tear the rods asunder. It may be said in general, ture abov.e
that two thirds of these weights will sensibly impair the one half its
strength after a considerable while, and that one half is the strength,
utmost that can remain suspended at them without risk for
ever; and it is upon this last allotment that the engineer
should reckon in his constructions. There is, however, con¬
siderable difference in this respect. Woods of a very straight
lib.
Pomegranate 9750 Absolute
Lemon 9250 strength of
Tamarind 8750 different
Fir 8330 kinds of
Walnut 8130wood'
Pitch-pine  7650
Quince 6750
Cypress 6000
Poplar 5500
Cedar   ..4880
and of
other sub¬
stances.
758
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of fibre, such as fir, will be less impaired by any load which is
Materials. no^ sufficient to break them immediately.
According to Mr Emerson, the load which may be safely
suspended to an inch square is as follows:
Iron .f....76,400
Brass 35,600
Hempen rope 19,600
Ivory 15,700
Oak, box, yew, plum-tree  7,850
Elm, ash, beech,  6,070
Walnut, plum  5,360
Red fir, holly, elder, plane, crab  5,000
Cherry, hazel  4,760
Alder, asp, birch, willow  4,290
Lead  430
Freestone  914
He gives us a practical rule, that a cylinder whose diame¬
ter is 1 inch, loaded to one fourth of its absolute strength,
will carry as follows :
Iron 135 \
u f
Fir  9 /
The rank which the different woods hold in this list of
Mr Emerson’s is very different from what we find in Mus-
chenbroeck’s. But precise measures must not be expected
in this matter. It is wonderful, that in a matter of such un¬
questionable importance the public has not enabled some
persons of judgment to make proper trials. They are be¬
yond the abilities of private persons.
II. BODIES MAY BE CRUSHED.
It is of im- It is of equal, perhaps greater, importance to know the
portance to strain which may be laid on solid bodies without danger of
know what crushing them. Pillars and posts of all kinds are exposed
bodies1*8” to stra'n in its simplest form; and there are cases
where the strain is enormous, viz. where it arises from the
oblique position of the parts, as in the struts, braces, and
trusses, which occur very frequently in our great works.
It is therefore most desirable to have some general know¬
ledge of the principle which determines the strength of
bodies, in opposition to this kind of strain. But, unfortu¬
nately, we are much more at a loss in this than in the last
case. The mechanism of nature is, in the present case, much
more complicated. It must be in some circuitous way that
compression can have any tendency to tear asunder the parts
of a solid body, and it is very difficult to trace the steps.
If we suppose the particles insuperably hard and in con¬
tact, and disposed in lines which are in the direction of the
external pressures, it does not appear how any pressure can
disunite the particles; but this is a gratuitous supposition.
There are infinite odds against this precise arrangement
of the lines of particles ; and the compressibility of all kinds
of matter in some degree shows that the particles are in a
situation equivalent to distance. This being the case, and
the particles, with their intervals, or what is equivalent to in¬
tervals, being in situations that are oblique with respect to
the pressures, it must follow, that by squeezing them together
in one direction, they are made to bulge out or separate in
other directions. This may proceed so far that some may
be thus pushed laterally beyond their limits of cohesion.
The moment that this happens the resistance to compres¬
sion is diminished, and the body will now be crushed to¬
gether. We may form some notion of this by supposing a
number of spherules, like small shot, sticking together by
means of a cement. Compressing this in some particular
direction causes the spherules to act among each other like
so many wedges, each tending to penetrate through between
the three which lie below it: and this is the simplest, and
perhaps the only distinct, notion we can have of the matter.
We have reason to think that the constitution of very homo- Strength of
geneous bodies, such as glass, is not very different from this. Mater’a^
If this be the constitution of bodies, it appears probable
that the strength, or the resistance which they are capable strength
of making to an attempt to crush them to pieces, is proper- or power
tional to the area of the section whose plane is perpendicu-of resist-
lar to the external force; for each particle being similarlyanceto
and equally acted on and resisted, the whole resistance must®^^*
be as their number, that is, as the extent of the section. ’
Accordingly this principle is assumed by the few writers
who have considered the subject; but we confess that it
appears to us very doubtful. Suppose a number of brittle
or friable balls lying on a table uniformly arranged, but not
cohering nor in contact, and that a board is laid over them
and loaded with a weight; we have no hesitation in saying
that the weight necessary to crush the whole collection is
proportional to their number or to the area of the section.
But when they are in contact, and still more if they cohere,
we imagine that the case is materially altered. Any indi¬
vidual ball is crushed only in consequence of its being bul¬
ged outwards in the direction perpendicular to the pressure
employed. If this could be prevented by a hoop put round
the ball like an equator, we cannot see how any force can
crush it. Any thing therefore which makes this bulging
outwards more difficult, makes a greater force necessary.
Now this effect will be produced by the mere contact of
the balls before the pressure is applied; for the central ball
cannot swell outward laterally without pushing away the
balls on all sides of it. This is prevented by the friction
on the table and upper board, which is at least equal
to one third of the pressure. Thus any interior ball be¬
comes stronger by the mere vicinity of the others ; and if
we further suppose them to cohere laterally, we think that
its strength will be still more increased.
The analogy between these balls and the cohering par¬
ticles of a friable body is very perfect. We should there¬
fore expect that the strength by which it resists being crush¬
ed will increase in a greater ratio than that of the section,
or the square of the diameter of similar sections ; and that
a square inch of any matter will bear a greater weight in
proportion as it makes a part of a greater section. Ac¬
cordingly this appears in many experiments, as will after¬
wards be noticed. Muschenbroeck, Euler, and some others,
have supposed the strength of columns to be as the biqua¬
drates of their diameters. Euler deduced this from for¬
mulae which occurred to him in the course of his algebraic
analysis; and he boldly adopts it as a principle, without
looking for its foundation in the physical assumptions which
he had made in the beginning of his investigation. But
some of his original assumptions were as paradoxical, or at
least as gratuitous, as these results; and those, in particular,
from which this proportion of the strength of columns was
deduced, were almost foreign to the case; and therefore the
inference was of no value. Yet it was received as a prin¬
ciple by Muschenbroeck and by the academicians of St
Petersburg. We make these very few observations, be¬
cause the subject is of great practical importance ; and it is
a great obstacle to improvements when deference to a great
name, joined to incapacity or indolence, causes authors to
adopt his careless reveries as principles from which they are
afterwards to draw important consequences. It must be
acknowledged that we have not as yet established, on solid
mechanical principles, the relation between the dimensions
and the strength of a pillar. Experience plainly contradicts
the general opinion, that the strength is proportional to the
area of the section; but it is still more inconsistent with
the opinion, that it is in the quadruplicate ratio of the dia¬
meters of similar sections. It would seem that the ratio
depends much on the internal structure of the body; and
experiment seems the only method for ascertaining its ge¬
neral laws.
STRENGTH OE MATERIALS.
^fatlpiaU ^ . ^?re suPPHse the body to be of a fibrous texture, having
v ^ , _e situated in the direction of the pressure, and
to be as- adhering to each other by some kind of cement,
certained such a body will fail only by the bending of the fibres, by
only by ex- which they will break the cement and be detached from
periment. each other. Something like this may be supposed in wood¬
en pillars. In such cases, too, it would appear that the
resistance must be as the number of equally resisting fibres,
and as their mutual support, jointly; and, therefore, as some
function of the area of the section. The same thing must
happen if the fibres be naturally crooked or undulated, as
is observed in many woods, provided we suppose some simi¬
larity in their form. Similarity of some kind must always
be supposed, otherwise we need never aim at any general in¬
ferences.
In all cases therefore we can hardly refuse admitting that
the strength in opposition to compression is proportional to
a function of the area of the section.
As the whole length of a cylinder or prism is equally
pressed, it does not appear that the strength of a pillar is
at all affected by its length. If indeed it be supposed to
bend under the pressure, the case is greatly changed, be¬
cause it is then exposed to a transverse strain ; and this in¬
creases with the length of the pillar. But this will be con¬
sidered with due attention under the next class of strains.
Few experiments have been made on this species of
strength and strain. Mr Pitot says that his experiments
and those of Mr Parent show that the force necessary for
crushing a body is nearly equal to that which will tear it
asunder. He says that it requires something more than
sixty pounds on every square line to crush a piece of sound
oak. But the rule is by no means general: glass, for in¬
stance, will carry a hundred times as much as oak in this
way, that is, resting on it; but will not suspend four or five
times as much. Oak will suspend a great deal more than
fir; but fir, as a pillar, will carry twice as much. Woods of
a soft texture, although consisting of very tenacious fibres,
are more easily crushed by their load. This softness of tex¬
ture is chiefly owing to their fibres not being straight but
undulated, and there being considerable vacuities between
them, so that they are easily bent laterally and crushed.
When a post is overstrained by its load, it is observed to
swell sensibly in diameter. Increasing the load causes lon¬
gitudinal cracks or shivers to appear, and it presently after
gives way. This is called crippling.
In all cases where the fibres lie oblique to the strain, the
strength is greatly diminished, because the parts can then
be made to slide on each other when the cohesion of the
cementing matter is overcome.
Muschenbroeck has given some experiments on this
subject; but they are cases of long pillars, and therefore
do not belong to this place. They will be considered af¬
terwards.
The only experiments of which we have seen any detail
(and it is useless to insert mere assertions) are those of
Mr Gauthey, in the fourth volume of Rozier’s Journal de
Physique. This engineer exposed to great pressures small
rectangular parallelepipeds, cut from a great variety of
stones, and noted the weights which crushed them. The
following table exhibits the medium results of many trials
on two very uniform kinds of freestone, one of them
among the hardest and the other among the softest used
in building.
Column first expresses the length AB of the section, in
French lines or 12ths of an inch; column second expresses
the breadth BC ; column third is the area of the section,
in square lines; column fourth is the number of ounces
required to crush the piece • -"olumn fifth is the weight
which was then borne by each square line of the section;
and column sixth is the round numbers to which Mr Gau¬
they imagines that those in column fifth approximate.
AB. BC.
8 8
Hard Stone.
ABxBC. Weight.
8
8
9
9
18
18
12
16
16
18
18
24
64
96
128
736
2625
4496
Soft Stone.
144 560
162 848
324 2928
432 5296
Force.
11- 5
27-3
35-1
3-9
5-3
9-
12- 2
12
24
36
4-
4-5
9-
12-
759
Strength of
Materials.
Experi¬
ments for
this pur¬
pose made
on free¬
stone
Little can be deduced from these experiments : the
first and third, compared with the fifth and sixth, should
furnish similar results; for the first and fifth are respec¬
tively half of the third and sixth ; but the third is three
times stronger (that is, a line of the third) than the first,
whereas the sixth is only twice as strong as the fifth.
It is evident, however, that the strength increases much
faster than the area of the section, and that a square line
can carry more and more weight, according as it makes a
part of a larger and larger section. In this series of ex¬
periments on the soft stone, the individual strength of a
square line seems to increase nearly in the proportion of
the section of which it makes a part.
Mr Gauthey deduces, from the whole of his numerous ex¬
periments, that a pillar of hard stone of Givry, whose sec¬
tion is a square foot, will bear with perfect safety 664,000
pounds, and that its extreme strength is 871,000; and
the smallest strength observed in any of his experiments
was 460,000. The soft bed of Givry stone had for its
smallest strength 187,000, for its greatest 311,000, and for
its safe load 249,000. Good brick will carry with safety
320,000; chalk will carry only 9000. The boldest piece
of architecture in this respect which he has seen is a pil¬
lar in the church of All-Saints at Angers. It is twenty-
four feet long and eleven inches square, and is loaded with
60,000, which is not one seventh of what is necessary for
crushing it.
We may observe here by the way, that Mr Gauthey’s
measure of the suspending strength of stone is vastly small
in proportion to its power of supporting a load laid above
it. He finds that a prism of the hard bed of Givry, of a
foot section, is torn asunder by 4600 pounds ; and if it
be firmly fixed horizontally in a wall, it will be broken by
a weight of 56,000 suspended a foot from the wall. If it
rest on two props at a foot distance, it will be broken by
206,000 laid on its middle. These experiments agree so not 9atjs-
ill with each other, that little use can be made of them, factory. *
The subject is of great importance, and well deserves the
attention of the patriotic philosopher.
A set of good experiments would be very valuable, be- Good ex¬
cause it is against this kind of strain that we must guard periments
by judicious construction in the most delicate and difficult muck want-
problems which come through the hands of the civil anded-
military engineer. The construction of stone arches, and
the construction of great wooden bridges, and particularly
the construction of the frames of carpentry called centres
in the erection of stone bridges, are the most difficult jobs
that occur. In the centres on which the arches of the
bridge of Orleans were built, some of the pieces of oak
were carrying upwards of two tons on every square inch of
their scantling. All who saw it said that it was not able
to carry the fourth part of the intended load. But the
engineer understood the principles of his art, and ran the
risk, and the result completely justified his confidence ; for
the centre did not complain in any part, only it was found
too supple ; so that it went out of shape while the haunches
only of the arch were laid on it. The engineer corrected
this by loading it at the crown, and thus kept it completely
in shape during the progress of the work.
In the Memoirs of the Academy of St Petersburg for
760
Strength of 1778, there is a dissertation by Euler on this subject, but
Materials, particularly limited to the strain on columns, in which the
' , bending is taken into the account. Mr Fuss has treated
the same subject with relation to carpentry in a subsequent
volume. But there is little in these papers besides a dry
mathematical disquisition, proceeding on assumptions
which (to speak favourably) are extremely gratuitous.
The most important consequence of the compression is
wholly overlooked, as we shall presently see. Our know¬
ledge of the mechanism of cohesion is as yet far too im¬
perfect to entitle us to a confident application of mathe¬
matics. Experiments should be multiplied.
The only way in which we can hope to make these experi¬
ments useful, is to pay a careful attention to the manner in
which the fracture is produced. By discovering the general
resemblances in this particular, we advance a step in our
power of introducing mathematical measurement. Thus,
when a cubical piece of chalk is slowly crushed between
the chaps of a vice, we see it uniformly split in a surface
oblique to the pressure, and the two parts then slide along
the surface of (fracture. This should lead us to exa¬
mine mathematically what relation there is between this
surface of fracture and the necessary force; then we
should endeavour to determine experimentally the position
of this surface. Having discovered some general law or
resemblance in this circumstance, we should try what ma¬
thematical hypothesis will agree with this. Having found
one, we may then apply our simplest notions of cohesion, and
compare the result of our computations with experiment.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
How they
are to be
made use¬
ful.
HI. A BODY MAY BE BROKEN ACROSS.
we found it considerably above the direct cohesion ; that is, Strength of
it took considerably more than twice the force to tear out this Materials.^
middle piece that it did to tear the pin asunder by a direct v
pull. A piece of fine freestone required 205 pounds to pull Their re-
it directly asunder, and 575 to break it in this way. The suit,
difference was very constant in any one substance, but varied
from four thirds to six thirds in different kinds of matter,
being smallest in bodies of a fibrous texture. But indeed we
could not make the trial on any bodies of considerable cohe¬
sion, because they required such forces as our apparatus could
not support. Chalk, clay baked in the sun, baked sugar, brick,
and freestone, were the strongest that we could examine.
But the more common case, where the energy of a lever
intervenes, demands a minute examination.
Let ABCD (fig. 3) be the longitudinal section of abeam
inserted into a wall at p- g
the end AD, and sup-
porting a weight at
the free end BC: it is
required to find what
tendency the weight
will have to break th e
beam over at the sec¬
tion EF.
The weight at C
will, in the first place,
cause a tendency of
the part EBCF to
slide down on the
surface EF, but the
It is of im¬
portance
to know
what strain
will break
a body
transverse¬
ly-
Experi¬
ments
made to
ascertain
it.
The most usual, and the greatest strain, to which mate¬
rials are exposed, is that which tends to break them trans¬
versely. It is seldom, however, that this is done in a
manner perfectly simple; for when a beam projects hori¬
zontally from a wall, and a weight is suspended from its
extremity, the beam is commonly broken near the wall,
and the intermediate part has performed the functions of
a lever. It sometimes, though rarely, happens that the
pin in the joint of a pair of pincers or scissors is cut through
by the strain ; and this is almost the only case of a simple
transverse fracture. Being so rare, we may content our¬
selves with saying, that in this case the strength of the
piece is proportional to the area of the section.
Experiments were made for discovering the resistances
made by bodies to this kind of strain in the following man¬
ner. Two iron bars were disposed horizontally at an inch
distance ; a third hung perpendicularly between them, being
supported by a pin made of the substance to be examined.
This pin was made of a prismatic form, so as to fit exactly
the holes in the three bars, which were made very exact,
and of the same size and shape. A scale was suspended at
the lower end of the perpendicular bar, and loaded till it
tore out that part of the pin which filled the middle hole.
This weight was evidently the measure of the lateral co¬
hesion of two sections. The side-bars were made to grasp
the middle bar pretty strongly between them, that there
might be no distance interposed between the opposite pres¬
sures. This would have combined the energy of a lever with
the purely transverse pressure. For the same reason it was
necessary that the internal parts of the holes should be no
smaller than the edges. Great irregularities occurred in
our first experiments from this cause, because the pins were
somewhat tighter within than at the edges; but when this
was corrected they were extremely regular. We employed
three sets of holes, viz. a circle, a square (which was occa¬
sionally made a rectangle whose length was twice its breadth),
and an equilateral triangle. We found in all our experi¬
ments the strength exactly proportional to the area of the
section, and quite independent of its figure or position, and
strength of the beam in resisting this kind of dislocation is
much greater than its power of resisting common fracture:
it is therefore unnecessary to examine this case.
Tne weight at C will cause the beam to bend; that is, it
will distend the upper and compress the under part of the
beam, and, acting at the extremity of the lever FC, its power
of causing such compression and distention will be W X FC.
Since the weight at C acts in a vertical direction, it cannot
tend either to lengthen or to shorten the beam, and thus the
repulsion of the compressed part must be exactly equal to
the attraction of the distended parts.
Let G be the neutral point, and draw through it the
line/Ge, contiguous toFGE; draw also H/< and li paral¬
lel to CD. The lines li, in the under side of the cross sec¬
tion, will represent the degrees of compression, and also
(since within the limits of security the repulsion is propor¬
tional to the degree of compression) the force of repulsion,
while the lines HA on the upper side will serve to represent
the attractions. The sum of all the lines on the upper side,
that is, the wedge EGe, wfill thus represent the entire amount
of attraction, while the wedge FG/’ will represent the total
amount of repulsion. These two wedges, then, must be equal
to each other; and this equality determines the position of the
axis of flexure represented by the point G. In the case of a
rectangular beam, G must clearly be in the middle of the line
EF ; but when the cross section of the beam is irregular, the
position of the axis of flexure is not quite so easily found.
Let EF be the cross section of an irregular beam, and OH
the axis of flexure, or the place where
the beam is neither compressed nor
distended. Then the wedges gene¬
rated by turning the section EF upon
OH as an axis must be equal to each
other. This is always the case when OH
passes through the centre of gravity of
the cross section, and thus it follows
that those points which are neither
compressed nor distended are always
ranged in a straight line drawn through the centre of gravity
of the cross section.
Fier. 4.
Mntpriai«f position of the fulcrum of the lever being now known,
y y —, > we can proceed to ascertain the effects of the various forces.
Returning, for the sake of simplicity, to the rectangular
beam; the sum of the repulsions il will be represented by
the triangle G/F: but the rectangle under GF and F/
would measure the entire strength of the under half of the
beam, and therefore the force actually exerted when the
beam is about to be broken across, is just half of the abso¬
lute strength of the beam; one quarter being exhibited as
attraction, another quarter as repulsion. These forces act
at different distances from the fulcrum G, and it is well
known that the influence of a number of weights in turning
a lever round is the same as if all these weights were to act
at their common centre of gravity; so that to find the en-
tire action in this case, we have to suppose one fourth of the
whole strength of the beam to act at the distance f of GF
or ^ of EF from the fulcrum G, and another quarter of the
strength at ^ of GE. Now, if s be the strength of one
square inch of the beam, and if D, B, and L be its depth,
breadth, and length, measured in inches, DBs will be the
absolute strength of the whole beam; and therefore the
tendencies of the above forces to straighten the beam will be
^ l DBsx l D + 1 DBsx^ D;
that is, £ D2 • B • s. And again, the tendency of the weight
W to bend the beam is WL; so that
£ D2 • B • s =: WL,
or 6L : D :: DBs : W;
that is, as six times the length of the beam is to its depth, so
is the absolute strength of the beam to the weight which it can
carry at the free end.
Throughout this investigation we have supposed that the
force needed to extend or compress a fibre is exactly pro¬
portional to the quantity of extension or compression. This
hypothesis, though not perhaps strictly true, and though it
certainly errs when we approach to dislocation or fracture,
is yet confirmed by all experiments when the extensions
have been kept within the limits of safety: the results of
this hypothesis therefore are what must guide us in forming
any structure.
It may now be interesting to inquire into the strength of
a beam when bent in different directions.
EF being, as before, the cross section of an irregular
beam, let that beam be bent in the direction OG, the axis
of flexure being OH perpendicular to OG; and let us con¬
sider the action of a small portion ds of the surface situated
at I. Having drawn the perpendiculars IK and IL, it is
clear that the compression of the fibre I must be propor¬
tional to KI; and therefore the force exerted by it may be
denoted by C • IK • ds, C being some constant depending on
the nature of the material and the degree of flexure. This
force, conceived to act at the extremity of the lever KI,
will tend to bend the beam round the axis OH; but again
acting at the end of the lever LI, it will tend to bend
the beam on OG as an axis. Putting 2 to denote the
integral for the entire surface, C • 2 • IK2efc will be the
entire tendency to rectify the form of the beam, and
C2IK • IL - efc will be the entire tendency to take a flex¬
ure in a plane at right angles to that which it actually
has. A beam therefore will not bend in the direction in
which the pressure is applied to it unless 2-IK-IL«/s = 0.
This is a circumstance overlooked in all treatises on flex¬
ure ; but it is one that must be carefully attended to in
practice. It may easily be illustrated thus: Take a thin
slip of wood, such perhaps as is used for Venetian blinds,
and fix it in a vice so that while its length is horizontal its
flat sides may be inclined at a considerable angle. Attach
now a weight to the free end, and it will be found that
that end does not descend vertically, but that it moves
obliquely, the flexure not happening in that direction
in which the force is applied. The force necessary to
bend the beam in the plane of OG is not a force in that
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Tei
direction, but is the resultant of two forces, 2 IK2 • ds in Strength of
the direction OG, and 2 • IK - IL • ds in the direction OH. Materials.
For the present we shall call 2IKV5 the stiffness in the
direction OG, and 2" lUds of course the stiffness in the
direction OH. The sum of these two stiffnesses is mani¬
festly 2 • OF*, which is a constant quantity, depending not
at all upon the directions of OG, OH, but only on the form of
the cross section: hence follows the remarkable law, that the
sum of the stiffnesses of a beam in two directions perpendi¬
cular to each other is constant; and that therefore, what¬
ever may be the form of the beam, its directions of greatest
and least stiffness are always perpendicular to each other.
For the purpose of discovering in what directions the
greatest and least stiffness lie, let us refer all the points in
the cross section to the axes OX and OY, putting the angle
XOG — We have then IK = a: cos. <f> + y sin. ®,
= x sin. <p y cos. <p ; and thus the tendency of the
beam to redress itself in the direction GO is 2 • (# cos.
? + y sin. <pf ds, while the deflecting tendency in the
direction HO is 2 • (cc cos. $ + y sin. p) (_ x sin. p + ?/
cos. <p) ds. Regarding <p as the variable quantity, and dif¬
ferentiating the former for the purpose of discovering its
maximum, we obtain 2 • (x cos. p + 3/sin. p) (—x&sin.
y cos. <p) *= 0; now it will be observed that this
expression is just that for the deflecting tendency, and
hence this law,
That when a beam is bent in the direction of greatest or
of least stiffness, the pressure to be applied is exactly in the
direction of the bending.
The value of <p may easily be found from the above
equation ; the result is
0 2 2 • ary *
tan. 2 <2 rz   .
1.x1 ds — !ylds
^ The lines OX and OY will coincide with the directions
of greatest and least stiffness when p = 0, or when tan.
2 p = 0, that is, when 2 • xy ds = 0.
If, then, the directions of greatest and least stiffness be
taken for the axes of x and of y, we shall have 2 • xy
ds = 0, 2 x2ds rr greatest stiffness = A, 2 y2ds = least
stiffness B. These being once known, the stiffness in
any other direction, as well as the deflecting tendency,
can readily be obtained. Putting P and Q respectively for
these quantities, we have
P =: A cos. p2-j- B sin. p2,
Q z= ^ (B— A) sin. 2 p.
The deflecting tendency is thus greatest when p zr 45°,
that is, when the actual direction of flexure is equally inclined
to the directions of greatest and least stiffness. In this case
P1 — 2 (A + B), Q = ^ (B — A).
Galileo, who was the first to investigate the law of
transverse strain, conceived the lower edge of the beam to
be the fulcrum, and each fibre to be exerting its whole
strength ; Professor Robison, in the former editions of this
work, corrected the supposition in the case of rectangular
beams : the above investigation extends it to beams of all
forms.
voi.. >:x
We must now remark, that this correction of the Gali¬
lean hypothesis of equal forces was suggested by the bend¬
ing which is observed in all bodies which are strained trans¬
versely. Because they are bent, the fibres on the convex
side have been extended. We cannot say in what propor¬
tion this obtains in the different fibres. Our most distinct
notions of the internal equilibrium between the particles
render it highly probable that their extension is propor¬
tional to their distance from that fibre which retains its for¬
mer dimensions. But by whatever law this is regulated,
we see plainly that the actions of the stretched fibres must
follow the proportions of some function of this distance,
and that therefore the relative strength of a beam is in all
cases susceptible of mathematical determination.
O 1)
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
762
Strength of We also see an intimate connection between the strain
Materials. an(j curvature. This suggested to the celebiated James
Bernoulli the problem of the elastic curve, i. e. the curve
nrobTem of into which an extensible rigid body will be bent by a trans-
the elaTtic verse strain. His solution in the Acta Eruditorum 1694 and
curve. 1695, is a very beautiful specimen of mathematical discus¬
sion, and we recommend it to the perusal of the curious
reader. He will find it very perspicuously treated in the
first volume of his works, published after his death, where
the wide steps which he had taken in his investigation are
explained so as to be easily comprehended. His nephew,
Daniel Bernoulli, has given an elegant abridgement in the
Petersburg Memoirs for 1729. The problem is too intricate
to be fully discussed in a work like ours, but it is also too in¬
timately connected with our present subject to be entirely
omitted. We must content ourselves with showing the lead¬
ing mechanical properties of this curve, from which the ma¬
thematician may deduce all its geometrical properties.
Its leading When a bar of uniform depth and breadth, and of a giv en
mechanical ]en(Tth, is bent into an arch of a circle, the extension of the
property fibres is proportional to the curvature; for, because
described. ^ curVes formed by the inner and outer sides of the beam
are similar, the circumferences are as the radii, and the
radius of the inner circle is to the difference of the radii as
the length of the inner circumference is to the difference
of the circumferences. The difference of the radii is the
depth of the beam, the difference of the circumferences is
the extension of the outer fibres, and the inner circum¬
ference is supposed to be the primitive length of the beam.
Now the second and third quantities of the above analogy,
viz. the depth and length of the beam, are constant quan¬
tities, as is also their product. Therefore the product of
the inner radius and the extension of the outer fibre is
also a constant quantity, and the whole extension of the
outer fibre is inversely as the radius of curvature, or is di¬
rectly as the curvature of the beam.
The mathematical reader will readily see, that into what¬
ever curve the elastic bar is bent, the whole extension of
the outer fibre is equal to the length of a similar curve
having the same proportion to the thickness of the beam
that the length of the beam has to the radius of curvature.
Now let ADCB (fig. 5) be such a rod of uniform breadth
and thickness, firmly fix¬
ed in a vertical position,
and bent into a curve
AEFB by a weight W
suspended at B, and of
such magnitude that the
extremity B has its tan¬
gent perpendicular to the
action of the weight, or
parallel to the horizon.
Suppose, too, that the ex-
tensions are proportional to the extending forces, rrom any
two points E and F draw the horizontal ordinates EG, t H. it
is evident that the exterior fibres of the sections Ee and vj
are stretched by forces which are in the proportion of EG to
FH (these being the long arms of the levers, and the equal
thicknesses Ee, F/being the short arms). Therefore (by the
hypothesis) their extensions are in the same proportion. But
because the extensions are proportional to some similar func-
tions of the distance from the axes of fracture E and F, the
extension of any fibre in the section Ee is to the contem¬
poraneous extension of the similarly situated fibre in the
section Fy’, as the extension of the exterior fibre in the sec¬
tion Ee is to the extension of the exterior fibre in the sec¬
tion Ff: therefore the w'hole extension of Ee is to the whole
extension of Ff as EG to FH, and EG is to FH as the cur¬
vature in E to the curvature in F.
Here let it be remarked, that this proportionality of the
curvature to the extension of the fibres is not limited to the
Fig. 5.
hypothesis of the proportionality of the extensions to the Strength of
extending forces: it follows from the extension in the dif- Materials^
ferent sections being as some similar function of the dis- Y
tance from the axis of fracture; an assumption which can¬
not be refused.
This, then, is the fundamental property of the elastic curve,
from which its equation, or relation between the abscissa
and ordinate, may be deduced in the usual forms, and all
its other geometrical properties. These are foreign to our
purpose; and we shall notice only such properties as have
an immediate relation to the strain and strength of the dif¬
ferent parts of a flexible body, and which in particular serve
to explain some difficulties in the valuable experiments of
Buffon on the Strength of Beams.
We observe, in the first place, that the elastic curve can- It is not a
not be a circle, but is gradually more incurvated as it re-circle-
cedes from the point of application B of the straining forces.
At B it has no curvature; and if the bar were extended
beyond B there would be no curvature there. In like man¬
ner, when a beam is supported at the ends and loaded in
the middle, the curvature is greatest in the middle; but at
the props, or beyond them, if the beam extend farther,
there is no curvature. Therefore, when a beam projecting
twenty feet from a wall is bent to a certain curvature at
the wall by a weight suspended at the end, and a beam ot
the same size projecting twenty feet is bent to the very
same curvature at the wall by a greater weight at ten feet
distance, the figure and the mechanical state of the beam
in the vicinity of the wall is different in these two cases,
though the curvature at the very wall is the same in both.
In the first case every part of the beam is incurvated; in
the second, all beyond the ten feet is without curvature.
In the first experiment the curvature at the distance of five
feet from the wall is three fourths of the curvature at the
wall; in the second, the curvature at the same place is but
one half of that at the wall. This must weaken the long
beam in this whole interval of five feet, because the greater
curvature is the result of a greater extension of the fibres.
In the next place we may remark, that there is a certain Every beam
determinate curvature for every beam, which cannot be ex-bas a ex¬
ceeded without breaking it; for there is a certain separa-
tion of two adjoining particles that puts an end to their co- va^ure>
hesion. A fibre can therefore be extended only a certain
proportion of its length. The ultimate extension of the
outer fibres must bear a certain determinate proportion to
its length, and this proportion is the same with that of the
thickness (or what we have hitherto called the depth) to the
radius of ultimate curvature, which is therefore determinate.
A beam of uniform breadth and depth is therefore most Arid when
incurvated where the strain is greatest, and will break in
the most incurvated part. But by changing its form, so as(je[)th> -s
to make the strength of its different sections in the ratio °^most incur-
the strain, it is evident that the curvature may be the same vated
throughout, or may be made to vary according to any law. where the
This is a remark worthy of the attention of the watchmaker.
The most delicate problem in practical mechanics^ is so
to taper the balance-spring of a watch that its wide and
narrow vibrations may be isochronous. Hooke’s principle
ut tensio sic vis is not sufficient when we take the inertia
and motion of the spring itself into the account. 1 he figure
into which it bends and unbends has also an influence. Our
readers will take notice that the artist aims at an accuracy
which will not admit an error of ^^^-gthj and that Har¬
rison and Arnold have actually attained it in several in¬
stances. The taper of a spring is at present a nostrum in the
hands of each artist, and he is careful not to impart its secret.
Again, since the depth of the beam is thus proportional
to the radius of ultimate curvature, this ultimate or break-
in0- curvature is inversely as the depth. It may be expressed
4 •
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of When a weight is hung on the end of a prismatic beam,
Materials.^ tllc curvature js near]y as the we5ght and the jength di_
To what rectly> anc^ as ^le breadth and the cube of the depth in-
the curva¬
ture is pro¬
portional.
7 72
versely ; for the strength is =jf—. Let us suppose that
6/
Deflection.
this produces the ultimate curvature Now let the beam
a
be loaded with a smaller weight w, and let the curvature
produced be C; we have this analogy,/^-: w = ^ : C, and
r _ Glw
^ “ fbd3' ^ 13 ev^ent ^at this is also true of a beam
supported at the ends and loaded between the props; and
we see how to determine the curvature in its diiferent parts,
whether arising from the load, or from its own weight, or
from both.
When a beam is thus loaded at the end or middle, the
loaded point is pulled down, and the space through which
it is drawn may be called the deflection. This may be con-
sideied as the subtense of the angle of contact, or as the
versed sine of the arch into which the beam is bent, and is
therefore as the curvature when the length of the arches is
given (the flexure being moderate), and as the square of
the length of the arch when the curvature is given. The
deflection therefore is as the curvature and as the square of
the length of the arch jointly; that is, as x l\ or as
Ww . f
fbd3 * ^ 16 “e^ecti°n fr°m the primitive shape is therefore
as the bending weight and the cube of the length directly
and as the breadth and cube of the depth inversely. ’
In beams just ready to break, the curvature is' as the
depth inversely, and the deflection is as the square of the
length divided by the depth ; for the ultimate curvature at
the breaking part is the same whatever is the length; and
in this case the deflection is as the square of the lenoth.
The theo- We have been the more particular in our consideration
inTfroemUlt*?if ^ SubJect; bfcaiise the resulting theorems afford us
this subject thf. metbods°f examining the laws of corpuscular
afford the act|0n> that is, for discovering the variation of the force of
finest me- cohesion by a change of distance. It is true it is not the
thodsofex- atomical law, or hylarchic principle as it may justly be
tTeTws of C^d’ whic.h.is thus made accessible, but the specific law
corpuscular °f the PartlcIes of the substance or kind of matter under
examination. But even this is a very great point; and co¬
incidences in this respect among the different kinds of mat¬
ter are of great moment. We may thus learn the nature
of the corpuscular action of different substances, and per¬
haps approach to a discovery of the mechanism of chemical
affinities. For that chemical actions are insensible cases of
local motion is undeniable, and local motion is the province
of mechanical discussion; nay, we see that these hidden
changes are produced by mechanical forces in many im¬
portant cases, for we see them promoted or prevented by
means purely mechanical. The conversion of bodies into
elastic vapour by heat can at all times be prevented by a
sufficient external pressure. A strong solution of Glauber’s
salts will congeal in an instant by agitation, giving out its
latent heat; and it will remain fluid for ever, and retain its
latent heat in a close vessel which it completely fills. Even
water will by such treatment freeze in an instant by agita¬
tion, or remain fluid for ever by confinement. We know
that heat is produced or extricated by friction, that certain
compounds of gold or silver with saline matters explode
with irresistible violence by the smallest pressure or agita¬
tion. ouch facts should rouse the mathematical philoso-
p icr, and excite him to follow out the conjectures of the
i ustnous Newton, encouraged by the ingenious attempts of
oscovich ; and the proper beginning, of this study is to at-
corpuscular
action.
763
tend to the laws of attraction and repulsion exerted by the Strength of
particles of cohering bodies, discoverable by experiments Materials,
made on their actual extensions and compressions. The
experiments of simple extensions and compressions are quite
insufficient, because the total stretching of a wire is so small
a quantity, that the mistake of the 1000th part of an inch
occasions an irregularity which deranges any progression
so as to make it useless. But by the bending of bodies a
distention of y^oth of an inch may be easily magnified in
the deflection ot the spring ten thousand times. We know
that the investigation is intricate and difficult, but not be¬
yond the reach of our present mathematical attainments ;
and it will give very fine opportunities of employing all the
address of analysis. In the 17th century and the beginning
of the 18th this was a sufficient excitement to the first ge¬
niuses of Europe. The cycloid, the catenaria, the elastic
curve, the velaria, the caustics, were reckoned an abundant
recompense for much study ; and James Bernoulli request¬
ed, as an honourable monument, that the logarithmic spiral
might be inscribed on his tombstone. The reward for the
study to which we now presume to incite the mathemati¬
cians is the almost unlimited extension of natural science,
important in every particular branch. To go no further
than our present subject, a great deal of important practi¬
cal knowledge respecting the strength of bodies is derived
from the single observation, that in the moderate extensions
which happen before the parts are overstrained, the forces
are nearly in the proportion of the extensions or separations
of the particles. To return to our subject.
James Bernoulli, in his second dissertation on the elastic Bernoulli
curve, calls in question this law, and accommodates his in- calls in
vestigation to any hypothesis concerning the relation of the question
forces and extensions. He relates some experiments of lute- this
strings where the relation was considerably different. Strings
of three feet long,
stretched by 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 pounds,
were lengthened 9, 17, 23, 27, 30 lines.
But this is a most exceptionable form of the experiment.
The strings were twisted, and the mechanism of the exten¬
sions is here exceedingly complicated, combined with com¬
pressions and with transverse twists, &c. We made expe¬
riments on fine slips of the gum caoutchouc, and on the juice
of the berries of the white bryony, of which a single grain
will draw to a thread of two feet long, and again return in¬
to a perfectly round sphere. We measured the diameter
of the thread by a microscope with a micrometer, and thus
could tell in every state of extension the proportional num¬
ber of particles in the sections. We found, that through
the whole range in which the distance of the particles was
changed in the proportion of thirteen to one, the extensions
did not sensibly deviate from the proportion of the forces.
The same thing was observed in the caoutchouc as long as
it perfectly recovered its first dimensions. And it isonthe
authority of these experiments that we presume to announce
this as a law of nature.
Dr Robert Hooke was undoubtedly the first who attend-which was
ed to this subject, and assumed this as a law of nature, first assura
Mariotte indeed was the first who expressly used it for de-ed D*
termining the strength of beams : this he did about the year Hooke-
1679, correcting the simple theory of Galileo. Leibnitz,
indeed, in his dissertation in the Acta Eruditorum l684,,
DeResistentia Solidorum, introduces this consideration, and
wishes to be considered as the discoverer; and he is always
acknowledged as such by the Bernoullis, and others who ad¬
hered to his peculiar doctrines. But Mariotte had published
the doctrine in the most express terms long before; and
Bui finger, in the Comment. Petropol. 1729, completely vin¬
dicates his claim. But Hooke was unquestionably the
discoverer of this law. It made the foundation of his theory
of springs, announced to the Royal Society about the year
1661, and read m 1666. On this occasion he mentions
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
764
Strength of many things on the strength of bodies as quite familiar to
Materials, ^jg thoughts, which are immediate deductions from this prin-
ciple ; and among these all the facts which John Bernoulli
so vauntingly adduces in support of Leibnitz s finical dog¬
mas about the force of bodies in motion; a doctrine which
Hooke might have claimed as his own, had he not perceived
its frivolous inanity.
Though But even with this first correction of Mariotte, the me-
eorrected chanism of transverse strain is not fully nor justly explain-
by Mari- e(j_ force acting in the direction BW (fig 3), and
otte, it does bencfing the body ABCD, not only stretches the fibres on
?y explain^ the side opposite to the axis of fracture, but compresses the
the mecha- side CD, which becomes concave by the strain. Indeed it
nism of cannot do the one without doing the other ; for, in order
transverse t0 sketch the fibres at D, there must be some fulcrum, some
strain. support, on which the virtual lever BAD may press, that it
may tear asunder the stretched fibres. This fulcrum must
sustain both the pressure arising from the cohesion of the
distended fibres, and also the action of the external force,
which immediately tends to cause the prominent part of the
beam to slide along the section EF.
asis This is fully verified by experiment. If we attempt to
experi- y break a lonS sliP of cork’ or anY such very compressible
merit. body, we always observe it to bulge out on the concave side
before it cracks on the other side. If it is a body of fibrous
or foliated texture, it seldom fails splintering off on the con¬
cave side; and in many cases this splintering is very deep,
even reaching half way through the piece. In hard and
granulated bodies, such as a piece of freestone, chalk, dry
clay, sugai", and the like, we generally see a considerable
splinter or shiver fly off from the hollow side. If the frac¬
ture be slowly made by a force at B gradually augmented,
the formation of the splinter is very distinctly seen. It
forms a triangular piece, which generally breaks in the
middle.
Consequen- Let us see what consequences result from this state of
ces result' the case respecting the strength of bodies. Let DaKC
mg from (fig. 6) represent a vertical section of a prism of compres-
til 6 stilt 6
of the case. Fig. 6.
sible materials, such as a piece of timber. Suppose it load¬
ed with a weight P hung at its extremity. Suppose it of
such a constitution that all the fibres in AD are in a state
of dilatation, while those in Aa are in a state of compres¬
sion. In the instant of fracture the particles at D and E
are withheld by forces Drf, Ee, and the particles at A and
F repel, resist, or support, with forces A3, Fs.
Some line, such as deAib, will limit all these ordinates,
which represent the forces actually exerted in the instant of
fracture. If the forces be as the extensions and compres¬
sions, as we have great reason to believe, cfeA and Asd will
be two straight lines. They will form one straight line dAd,
if the forces which resist a certain dilatation are equal to
the forces which resist an equal compression. But this is
quite accidental, and is not strictly true in any body. In Strength of
most bodies which have any considerable firmness, the com- Materials.
pressions made by any external force are not so great as the v Y
dilatations which the same force would produce ; that is,
the repulsions which are excited by any supposed degree
of compression are greater than the attractions excited by
the same degree of dilatation. Hence it will generally fol¬
low, that the angle rfAD is less than the angle 5 A A, and
the ordinates Drf, Ee, &c. are less than the corresponding
ordinates A3, E«, &c.
But whatever be the nature of the line dAd, we are cer- An impoi-
tain of this, that the whole area ADc/ is equal to the wholetant
area A A3 ; for as the force at B is gradually increased, and “
the parts between A and Dare more extended, and greater pres,;iniity
cohesive forces are excited, there is always such a degree of body
of repulsive forces excited in the particles between A and fully prov-
A that the one set precisely balances the other. The force e<i
at B, acting perpendicularly to AB, has no tendency to
push the whole piece closer on the part next the wall, or
to pull it away. The sum of the attractive and repulsive
forces actually excited must therefore be equal. These sums
are represented by the two triangular areas, which are there¬
fore equal.
The greater we suppose the repulsive forces con-espond-
ing to any degree of compression, in comparison with the
attractive forces corresponding to the same degree of ex¬
tension, the smaller will Aa be in comparison of AD. In
a piece of cork or sponge, AA may chance to be equal to
AD, or even to exceed it; but in a piece of marble, A A
will perhaps be very small in comparison of AD.
Now it is evident that the repulsive forces excited be¬
tween A and A have no share in preventing the fracture.
They rather contribute to it, by furnishing a fulcrum to the
lever by whose energy the cohesion of the particles in AD
is overcome. Hence we see an important consequence of
the compressibility of the body. Its power of resisting this
transverse strain is diminished by it, and so much the more
diminished as the stuff is more compressible.
This is fully verified by some very curious experiments
made by Duhamel. He took sixteen bars of willow two
feet long and half an inch square, and supporting them by
props under the ends, he broke them by weights hung on the
middle. He broke four of them by weights of 40, 41, 47,
and 52 pounds : the mean is 45. He then cut four of them
one third through on the upper side, and filled up the cut
with a thin piece of harder wood stuck in pretty tight. These
were broken by 48, 54, 50, and 52 pounds ; the mean of
which is 51. He cut other four half through, and they
were broken by 47, 49, 50, 46 ; the mean of which is 48.
The remaining four were cut two thirds, and their mean
strength was 42.
Another set of his experiments is still more remarkable.
Six battens of willow thirty-six inches long and one and
a half square were broken by 525 pounds at a medium.
Six bars were cut one third through, and the cut filled
with a wedge of hard wood stuck in with a little force: these
broke with 551.
Six bars were cut half through, and the cut was filled
in the same manner: they broke with 542.
Six bars were cut three fourths through : these broke
with 530.
A batten cut three fourths through, and loaded till near¬
ly broken, was unloaded, and the wedge taken out of the
cut. A thicker wedge was put in tight, so as to make the
batten straight again by filling up the space left by the com¬
pression of the wood : this batten bx-oke with 577 pounds.
From this it is plain that more than two thirds of the
thickness (perhaps nearly three fourths) contributed nothing
to the strength.
The point A is the centre of fracture in this case; and
in order to estimate the strength of the piece, we may sup-
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS. 765
Strength of pose that the crooked lever virtually concerned in the strain
Materia s. js DAB. We must find the point I, which is the centre of
effort of all the attractive forces, or that point where the
full cohesion of AD must be applied, so as to have a mo¬
mentum equal to the accumulated momenta of all the
variable forces. We must in like manner find the centre
of effort i of the repulsive or supporting forces exerted by
the fibres lying between A and A.
It is plain, and the remark is important, that this last
centre of effort is the real fulcrum of the lever, although A
is the point where there is neither extension nor contrac¬
tion ; for the lever is supported in the same manner as if
the repulsions of the whole line AA were exerted at that
point. I herefore let S represent the surface of fracture
from A to D, and f represent the absolute cohesion of a
fibre at D in the instant of fracture. We shall have
/S X I + * = pi, or /: I -J- *' —ys :p ; that is, the length
AB is to the distance between the two centres of effort I
and i, as the absolute cohesion of the section between A
and D is to the relative strength of the section.
It would be perhaps more accurate to make AI and A*
equal to the distances of A from the horizontal lines passing
through the centres of gravity of the triangles of AD and
3AA. It is only in this construction that the points I and
* are the centres of real effort of the accumulated attrac¬
tions and repulsions. But I and i, determined as we have
done, are the points where the full equal actions may be
all applied, so as to produce the same momenta. The final
results are the same in both cases. The attentive and duly
informed reader will see that Mr Bulfinger, in a very elabo¬
rate dissertation on the strength of beams, in the Comment.
Petropolitan. 1729, has committed several mistakes in his
estimation of the actions of the fibres. We mention this
because his reasonings are quoted and appealed to as au¬
thorities by Muschenbroeck and other authors of note. The
subject has been considered by many authors on the con¬
tinent. We recommend to the reader’s perusal the very
minute discussions in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Paris for 1702 by Varignon, the Memoirs for 1708 by Pa¬
rent, and particularly that of Coulomb in the Mem. par les
Sfavans Etrangers, tom. vii.
It is evident from what has been said above, that if S and
s represent the surfaces of the sections above and below A,
and if G and g are the distances of their centres of gra¬
vity from A, and O and o the distances of their centres of
oscillation, and D and d their whole depths, the momentum
of cohesion will be*^ .P — —pi.
D d 1
If, as is most likely, the forces are proportional to the
extensions and compressions, the distances AI and A?',
which are respectively = and 9-^, are respectively
= 3 DA and ^ AA, and when taken together are = -3D A.
If, moreover, the extensions are equal to the compressions
in the instant of fracture, and the body is a rectangular
prism like a common joist or beam, then DA and AA are
also equal; and therefore the momentum of cohesion is
f b X^d x ^d — • = fb d x ^d — pi. Hence we
obtain this analogy: “ six times the length is to the depth
as the absolute cohesion of the section is to its relative
strength.”
This con- I hus we see that the compressibility of bodies has a
farther^*- V6r^ 8rea^ *nfluence on their power of withstanding a trans-
plained. v6!*86 strain. We see that in this most favourable suppo¬
sition of equal dilatations and compressions, the strength is
reduced to one half of the value of what it would have been
had the body been incompressible. This is by no means
obvious; for it does not readily appear how compressibi¬
lity, which does not diminish the cohesion of a single fibre, Strength of
should impair the strength of the whole. The reason, how- Materials,
ever, is sufficiently convincing when pointed out. In the
instant of fracture, a smaller portion of the section is actually
exerting cohesive forces, while a part of it is only serving
as a fulcrum to the lever by whose means the strain on the
section is produced. We see, too, that this diminution of
strength does not so much depend on the sensible com¬
pressibility, as on its proportion to the dilatability by equal
forces. When this proportion is small, A A is small in com¬
parison of AD, and a greater portion of the whole fibre is
exerting attractive forces. The experiments already men¬
tioned, of Duhamel de Monceau, on battens of willow,
show that its compressibility is nearly equal to its dilatabi¬
lity. But the case is not very different in tempered steel.
The famous Harrison, in the delicate experiments which
he made while occupied in making his longitude watch,
discovered that a rod of tempered steel was nearly as much
diminished in its length as it was augmented by the same
external force. But it is not by any means certain that
this is the proportion of dilatation and compression which
obtains in the very instant of fracture. We rather imagine
that it is not. The forces are nearly as the dilatations till
very near breaking ; but we think that they diminish when
the body is just going to break. But it seems certain that
the forces which resist compression increase faster than the
compressions, even before fracture. We know incontes¬
tably that the ultimate resistances to compression are in¬
superable by any force which we can employ. The repul¬
sive forces, therefore, in their whole extent, increase faster
than the compressions, and are expressed by an assymp-
totic branch of the Boscovician curve formerly explained.
It is therefore probable, especially in the more simple sub¬
stances, that they increase faster, even in such compres¬
sions as frequently obtain in the breaking of hard bodies.
We are disposed to think that this is always the case in
such bodies as do not fly off in splinters on the concave
side; but this must be understood with the exception of
the permanent changes which may be made by compres¬
sion when the bodies are crippled by it. This always in¬
creases the compression itself, and causes the neutral point
to shift still more towards D. The effect of this is some¬
times very great and fatal.
Experiment alone can help us to discover the proportion
between the dilatability and compressibility of bodies. The
strain now under consideration seems the best calculated
for this research. Thus if we find that a piece of wood an
inch square requires 12,000 pounds to tear it asunder by a
direct pull, and that 200 pounds will break it transversely
by acting 10 inches from the section of fracture, we must
conclude that the neutral point A is in the middle of the
depth, and that the attractive and repulsive forces are equal.
Any notions that we can form of the constitution of such
fibrous bodies as timber, make us imagine that the sensible
compressions, including what arises from the bending up of
the compressed fibres, is much greater than the real cor¬
puscular extensions. One may get a general conviction
of this unexpected proposition by reflecting on what must
happen during the fracture. An undulated fibre can only
be drawn straight, and then the corpuscular extension be¬
gins ; but it may be bent up by compression to any degree,
the corpuscular compression being little affected all the
while. This observation is very important; and though
the forces of corpuscular repulsion may be almost insupe¬
rable by any compression that we can employ, a sensible
compression may be produced by forces not enormous, suf¬
ficient to cripple the beam. Of this we shall see very im¬
portant instances afterwards.
It deserves to be noticed, that although the relative
strength of a prismatic solid is extremely different in the
three hypotheses now considered, yet the proportional
766
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
strength of strengths of different pieces follow the same ratio, namely,
Materials. tjie direct ratio of the breadth, the direct ratio of the square
of the depth, and the inverse ratio of the length. In the
portional hypothesis (of equal forces) the strength of a rectangu-
ofdifferentlar beam was^" ; in the second (of attractive forces pro¬
pieces fol- fl)fp.
low the portioned to the extensions) it was--—y-; and in the third
(equal attractions and repulsions proportional to the exten-
. . , fbdz „ fbcP
sions and compressions) it was*7-^-, or more generally >
where m expresses the unknown proportion between the at¬
tractions and repulsions corresponding to an equal exten¬
sion and compression.
The Hence we derive a piece of useful information, which is
strength of confirmed by unexceptionable experience, that the strength
a Piece pe- of a piece depends chiefly on its depth, that is, on that di-
fyonits ~mensaon wbicb is in tbe direction of the strain. A bar of
depth; timber of one inch in breadth and two inches in depth is
four times as strong as a bar only one inch deep, and it
is twice as strong as a bar two inches broad and one deep;
that is, a joist or lever is always strongest when laid on its edge.
There is therefore a choice in the manner in which the
cohesion is opposed to the strain. The general aim must
be to put the centre of effort I as far from the fulcrum or
the neutral point A as possible, so as to give the greatest
energy or momentum to the cohesion. Thus if a triangular
cohesion is bar projecting from a wall is loaded with a weight at its ex-
opposed to tremity, it will bear thrice as much when one of the sides is
the Strain. Uppermost; as when it is undermost.
The strong- Hence it follows that the strongest joist that can be cut
est joist has out a round tree is not the one which has the greatest
greatest quantity of timber in it, but such that the product of its
quantity of breadth by the square of its depth shall be the greatest pos-
timber. sible. Let ABCD (fig. 7) be the sec¬
tion of this joist inscribed in the circle,
AB being the breadth and AD the depth.
Since it is a rectangular section, the di¬
agonal BD is a diameter of the circle,
and BAD is a right-angled triangle.
Let BD be called a, and BA be called
x; then ADrr V a*—xf. Now we must
have AB • AD2, or x (a~ — a:2), or^
az x — ic3, a minimum ; its differential (a2
and there¬
fore a
choice in
the man¬
ner in
which the
3a:2) dx must be
0, or az = Sic2, or ic2 = If therefore we make DE = £
O
DB, and draw EC perpendicular to BD, it will cut the cir¬
cumference in the point C, which determines the depth BC
and the breadth CD. •
Because BD: BC = CD : CE, we have the area of the
section BC-CD = BD-CE. Therefore the different sections
having the same diagonal BD, are proportional to their
heights CE. Therefore the section BCDA is less than the
section Be Da, whose four sides are equal. Ihe joist so
shaped, therefore, is stronger, lighter, and cheaper.
A hollow The strength of ABCD is to that of a B e D as 10,000 to
tube 9186, and the weight and expense as 10,000 to 10,607 ; so
than'fso- that ABCD is preferable to a B c D, in the proportion of
lid rod con-10,607 to 9186, or nearly 115 to 100.
tainingthe From the same principles it follows that a hollow tube is
same quan- stronger than a solid rod containing the
Lty o mat- same quantity of matter. Let fig. 8 re- Fig. 8.
present the section of a cylindric tube,
of which AF and BE are the exterior
and interior diameters, and C the centre.
Draw BD perpendicular to BC, and join
DC. Then, because BD2 = CD2—CB2,
BD is the radius of a circle containing
the same quantity of matter with the
ring. If we estimate the strength by
the first hypothesis, it is evident that the strength of the Strength of
tube will be to that of the solid cylinder, whose radius is Materials.
BD, as BD2 X AC to BD2 X BD ; that is, as AC to BD ;'
for BD2 expresses the cohesion of the ring of the circle,
and AC and BD are equal to distances of the centres of
effort (the same with the centres of gravity) of the ring and
circle from the axis of the fracture.
The proportion of these strengths will be different in the
other hypothesis, and is not easily expressed by a general
formula; but in both it is still more in favour of the ring or
hollow tube.
The following very simple solution will be readily under¬
stood by the intelligent reader. Let O be the centre of
oscillation of the exterior circle, o the centre of oscillation
of the inner circle, and w the centre of oscillation of the
ring included between them. Let M be the quantity of
surface of the exterior circle, m that of the inner circle, and
fi that of the ring.
We have Fm> =
M’FO—m-Fo
5 FC2 + EC2
4 FC
and
the strength of the ring
—f1* ^ , and the strength of
the same quantity of matter in the form of a solid cylinder
\sf fi x f BD ; so that the strength of the ring is to that of
the solid rod of equal weight as F w to f BD, or nearly as
FC to BD. This will easily appear by recollecting that FO is
= sum 0^.2.r (See Rotation), and that the momentum of
m*FC
, . . /wFC*Ca fm’Fo r , . . , „
cohesion is 2 FC~=~~2—f°r the inner 1 ’ &
Emerson has given a very inaccurate approximation to
this value in his Mechanics, 4to.
This property of hollow tubes is accompanied also with and more
greater stiffness; and the superiority in strength and stiff-Sl1 ’
ness is so much the greater as the surrounding shell is thin¬
ner in proportion to its diameter.
Here we see the admirable wisdom of the Author of na- Hence the
ture in forming the bones of animal limbs hollow. The 0
bones of the arms and legs have to perform the office offo°mingthe
levers, and are thus opposed to very great transverse strains. bones> &c.
By this form they become incomparably stronger and stiff- hollow,
er, and give more room for the insertion of muscles, while
they are lighter and therefore more agile; and the same
wisdom has made use of this hollow for other valuable pur¬
poses of the animal economy. In like manner the quills in
the wings of birds acquire by their thinness the very great
strength which is necessary, while they are so light as to
give sufficient buoyancy to the animal in the rare medium
in which,it must live and fly about. The stalks of many
plants, such as all the grasses, and many reeds, are in like
manner hollow, and thus possess an extraordinary strength.
Our best engineers now begin to imitate nature by making
many parts of their machines hollow, such as their axles of
cast iron, &c.; and the ingenious Mr Ramsden made the
axes and framings of his great astronomical instruments in
the same manner.
In the supposition of homogeneous texture, it is plain
that the fracture happens as soon as the particles at D are
separated beyond their utmost limit of cohesion. This is
a determined quantity, and the piece bends till this de¬
gree of extension is produced in the uttermost fibre. It
follows, that the smaller we suppose the distance between
A and D, the greater will be the curvature which the beam
will acquire before it breaks. Greater depth therefore
makes a beam not only stronger, but also stiffen But if
the parallel fibres can slide on each other, both the strength
and the stiffness will be diminished. Therefore, if, instead
of one beam DaKC (fig. 6), we suppose two, DABC and
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
767
Fig. 9.
-Sgr-
-13—
Strength of AaKB, not cohering, each of them will bend, and the ex-
Materials. tension of the fibres AB of the under beam will not hinder
the compression of t,ne adjoining fibres AB of the upper
strong beam. The two together therefore will not be more than
compound twice as strong as one of them (supposing DA r= Aa), in-
oeam may stead of being four times as strong; and they will bend as
be formed. much as either of them alone would bend by half the load.
This may be prevented, if it were possible to unite the two
neams all along the seam AB, so that the one shall not
slide on the other. This may be done in small works by
gluing them together with a cement as strong as the na¬
tural lateral cohesion of the fibres. If this cannot be done
(as it cannot in large works), the sliding is prevented by
joggling the beams together, that is, by cutting down seve¬
ral rectangular notches in the upper side of the lower beam,
and making similar notches in the under side of the upper
beam, and filling up the square spaces with pieces of very
hard wood firmly driven in, as represented in fig. 9. Some
employ iron bolts by way of
joggles. But when the jog¬
gle is much harder than the
wood into which it is driven,
it is very apt to work loose,
by widening the hole into
which it is lodged. The same thing is sometimes done by
scarphing the one upon the other, as represented in fig. 10; but
this wastes more timber, and
is not so strong, because the Fig. 10.
mutual hooks which this me¬
thod form on each beam are
very apt to tear each other
up. By one or other of these
methods, or something similar, may a compound beam be
formed, of any depth, which will be almost as stiff and
strong as an entire piece.
On the other hand, we may combine strength with pli¬
ableness, by composing our beam of several thin planks
laid on each other, till they make a proper depth, and leav¬
ing them at full liberty to slide on each other. It is in this
manner that coach-springs are formed, as is represented in
fig. 11. In this assemblage there must be no joggles nor
bolts of any kind put through
the planks or plates, for this Fig. 11.
would hinder their mutual
sliding. They must be kept
together by straps which sur¬
round them, or by something
equivalent.
How
strength
may be
combined
with plia¬
bleness.
Maxims of
construc¬
tion.
The preceding observations show the propriety of some
maxims of construction, which the artists have derived from
long experience.
Thus, if a mortise is to be cut out of a piece which is ex¬
posed to a cross strain, it should be cut out from that side
which becomes concave by the strain.
If a piece is to be strengthened by the addition of another,
the added piece must be joined to the side which grows con¬
vex by the strain.
Before we proceed any farther, it will be convenient to re¬
call the reader’s attention to the analogy between the strain
on a beam projecting from awall and loaded at the extremity,
and a beam supported at both ends and loaded in some
intermediate point. It is sufficient on this occasion to
read attentively what is delivered in the article Roof.
We learn there that the strain on the middle point C (fig.
16 of the present article) of a rectangular beam AB, sup¬
ported on props at A and B, is the same as if the part CA
projected from a wall, and were loaded with the half of the
weight W suspended at A. The momentum of the strain
is therefore £WxiA-B = Wx £ AB =jo£ /, or The
momentum of cohesion must be equal to this in every hy- Strength of
pothesis. Materials.
Having now considered in sufficient detail the circum- v J
stances which affect the strength of any section of a solid
body that is strained transversely, it is necessary to take
notice of some of the chief modifications of the strain itself.
We shall consider only those that occur most frequently in
our constructions.
The strain depends on the external force, and also on the
lever by which it acts.
It is evidently of importance, that since the strain is ex- The strain
erted in any section by means of the cohesion of the parts depends on
intervening between the section under consideration andtbe exter*
the point of application of the external force, the bodyna^orce»
must be able in all these intervening parts to propagate or
excite the strain in the remote section. In every part it
must be able to resist the strain excited in that part. It
should therefore be equally strong; and it is useless to have
any part stronger, because the piece will nevertheless break
where it is not stronger throughout; and it is useless to
make it stronger (relatively to its strain) in any part, for it
will nevertheless equally fail in the part that is too weak.
Suppose, then, in the first place, that the strain arises
from a weight suspended at one extremity, while the other
end is firmly fixed in a wall. Supposing also the cross sec¬
tions to be all rectangular, there are several ways of shap¬
ing the beam so that it shall be equally strong throughout.
Thus it may be equally deep in every part, the upper and
under surfaces being horizontal planes. The condition will
be fulfilled by making all the horizontal sections triangles,
as in fig. 12., The two sides
are vertical planes, meeting Fig. 12.
in an edge at the extremity ^
L. For the equation ex¬
pressing the balance of strain
and strength is pi — f bd2.
Therefore, since d2 is the
same throughout, and also jo,
we must have /6 = l, and b
(the breadth AD of any sec¬
tion ABCD) mustbe proper-
tional to l (or AL), which it evidently is.
Or, if the beam be of uniform breadth, we must have d2
everywhere proportional to l. This will be obtained by
making the depths the ordinates of a common parabola, of
which L is the vertex and the length is the axis. The
upper or under side may be a straight line, as in fig. 13, or
the middle line maybe straight,
and then both upper and under Fig. 13.
surfaces will be curved. It is
almost indifferent what is the
shape of the upper and under
surfaces, provided the distances
between them in every part be //
at the ordinates of a common
parabola.
Or, if the sections are all similar, such as circles, squares,
or any other similar polygons, we must have d2 or b3 pro¬
portional to /, and the depths or breadths must be as the or¬
dinates of a cubical parabola.
It is evident that these are also the proper forms for a and on the
lever moveable round a fulcrum, and acted on by a force at form of the
the extremity. The force comes in the place of the weight levers by
suspended in the cases already considered; and as such "'I110!1 ^
levers always are connected with another arm, we readily act3‘'
see that both arms should be fashioned in the same manner.
Thus in fig. 12 the piece of timber may be supposed a
kind of steelyard, moveable round a horizontal axis in the
front of the wall, and having the two weights P and «■
in equilibrio. The strain occasioned by each at the section
in which the axis OP is placed must be the same, and each
768
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of arm OL and 0?. must be equally strong in all its parts.
Materials. The longitudinal sections of each arm must be a triangle,
y'^ a common parabola, or a cubic parabola, according to the
conditions previously given.
And, moreover, all these forms are equally strong; for
any one of them is equally strong in all its parts, and they
are all supposed to have the same section at the front of
the wall or at the fulcrum. They are not, however, equally
stiff. The first, represented in fig. 12, will bend least upon
the whole, and the one formed by the cubic parabola will
bend most. But their curvature at the very fulcrum will
be the same in all.
It is also plain, that if the lever is of the second or third
kind, that is, having the fulcrum at one extremity, it must
still be of the same shape ; for in abstract mechanics it is
indifferent which of the three points is considered as the
axis of motion. In every lever the two forces at the ex¬
tremities act in one direction, and the force in the middle
acts in the opposite direction, and the great strain is always
at that point. Therefore a lever such as fig. 12, moveable
round an axis passing horizontally through X, and acting
against an obstacle at OP, is equally able in all its parts to
resist the strains excited in those parts.
The same principles and the same construction will ap¬
ply to beams, such as joists, supported at the ends L and >.
(fig. 12), and loaded at some intermediate part OP. This
will appear evident by merely inverting the directions of
the forces at these three points, or by recurring to the ar¬
ticle Roof, p. 444.
The exter- Hitherto we have supposed the external straining force
nal strain- as acting only in one point of the beam. But it may be
ing uniformly distributed all over the beam. To make a beam
tributed 1S**n suc^ circumstances equally strong in all its parts, the
shape must be considerably different from the former.
Thus suppose the beam to project from a wall. If it
be of equal breadth throughout, its sides being vertical
planes parallel to each other and to the length, the ver¬
tical section in the direction of its length must be a tri
F Q.
D d
over the
beam.
To make
a beam
strong
jects from angle instead of a common parabola ; for the weight uni-
a wah. formly distributed over the part lying beyond any section,
is as the length beyond that section : and since it may all
be conceived as collected at its centre of gravity, which is
the middle of that length, the lever by which this load acts
or strains the section is also proportioned to the same length.
The strain on the section (or momentum of the load) is as
the square of that length. The section must have strength
in the same proportion. Its strength being as the breadth
and the square of the depth, and the breadth being con¬
stant, the square of the depth of any section must be as the
square of its distance from the end, and the depth must be
as that distance ; and therefore the longitudinal vertical
section must be a triangle.
But if all the transverse sections are circles, squares, or
any other similar figures, the strength of every section, or
the cube of the diameter, must be as the square of the
lengths beyond that section, or the square of its distance
from the end ; and the sides of the beam must be a semi-
cubical parabola.
If the upper and under surfaces are horizontal planes, it
is evident that the breadth must be as the square of the dis¬
tance from the end, and the horizontal sections may be
formed by arches of the common parabola, having the
length for their tangent at the vertex.
By recurring to the analogy so often quoted between a
projecting beam and a joist, we may determine the proper
form of joists which are uniformly loaded through their
whole length.
The strain This is a frequent and important case, being the office of
beam sup- j°lsts’ rafters, &c.; and there are some circumstances which
ported at lnust be particularly noticed, because they are not so ob-
both ends, vious, and have been misunderstood. When a beam AB
(fig. 14) is supported at the ends, and a weight is laid on any Strength of
point P, a strain is excited Materials,
in every part of the beam. Fig. 14.
The load on P causes the
beam to press on A and B, ^
and the props re-act with
forces equal and opposite to
these pressures. The load at P is to the pressures at A and
B as AB to PB and PA, and the pressure at A is to that at
B as BP to PA ; the beam therefore is in the same state,
with respect to strain in every part of it, as if it were rest¬
ing on a prop at P, and were loaded at the ends with
weights equal to the two pressures on the props: and ob¬
serve, these pressures are such as will balance each other,
being inversely as their distances from P. Let P repre¬
sent the weight or load at P. The pressure on the prop P
PA
must be P X ^-g. This is therefore the re-action of the prop
B, and is the weight which we may suppose suspended at
B, when we conceive the beam resting on a prop at P, and
carrying the balancing weights at A and B.
The strain occasioned at any other point C, by the load
P at P, is the same with the strain at C, by the weight
PA
P X -t-tt hanging at B, when the beam rests on P, in the
Aij
manner now supposed ; and it is the same if the beam, in¬
stead of being balanced on a prop at P, had its part AP
fixed in a wall. This is evident. Now we have shown at
PA
length that the strain at C, by the weight P X hanging
PA
at B, is P X -7-fc X BC. We desire it to be particularly re-
marked, that the pressure at A has no influence on the strain
at C, arising from the action of any load between A and
C; for it is indifferent how the part AP of the projecting
beam PB is supported. The weight at A just performs the
same office with the wall in which we suppose the beam to
be fixed. We are thus particular, because we have seen
even persons not unaccustomed to discussions of this kind
puzzled in their conceptions of this strain.
Now let the load P be laid on some point p between C
and B. The same reasoning shows us that the point is,
with respect to strain, in the same state as if the beam
were fixed in a wall, embracing the part joB, and a weight
— P X were hung on at A, and the strain at C is P
AB
joB
AB
AC.
In general, therefore, t«he strain on any point C, arising A general
from a load P laid on another point P, is proportional to proposi-
the rectangle of the distances of P and C from the endstl0n‘
nearest to each. It is P X
PAxCB
, orPx
pBxCA
ac-
AB    AB
cording as the load lies between C and A or between C
and B.
Cor. 1. The strains which a load on any point P occa¬
sions on the points C, c, lying on the same side of P, are
as the distances of these points from the end B. In like
manner the strains on E and e are as EA and eA.
Cor. 2. The strain which a load occasions in the part on
w hich it rests is as the rectangle of the parts on each side.
Thus the strain occasioned at C by a load is to that at D
by the same load as AC X CB to AD x DB. It is there¬
fore greatest in the middle.
Let us now consider the strain on any point C arising from Tb? st^,
a load uniformly distributed along the beam. Let AP be re*aioaddistri-
presented by x, and Vp by dx, and the whole weight on the bute(j ^ng
beam by a. Then the beam.
Strength of
Materials. The weight on Pp is.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
769
dx
' AB'
Pressure on B by the weight on Vp ~ a ---■ x
AB
AB’
Or.
— a
Pressure on B by whole wt. on AC = a
Strain at C by the weight on AC =r a
Strain at C by the weight on BC = a
xdx
ABZ'
•iAC2
AB2
AC2
2AB2*
AC2 X BC
2AB2 *
BC2 x AC
2AB2 '
Do. by whole weight on AB = »ASiL* X AC
 2AB2
_^ACxBCx AC + CB AC x BC
2AB2 -a 2AB ‘
Thus we see that the strain is proportional to the rect¬
angle of the parts, in the same manner as if the load a had
been laid directly on the point C, and is indeed equal to
one half of the strain which would be produced at C by the
load a laid on there.
Mistakes on It was necessary to be thus particular, because we see
committed m e]ementa7 treatises on mechanics, published by
by authors aut'lors ot reputation, mistakes which are very plausible,
ofreputa- anc mislead the learner. It is there said that the pres-
tion. sure at B from a weight uniformly diffused along AB, is
the same as if it were collected at its centre of gravity,
which would be the middle of AB ; and then the strain at
C is said to be this pressure at B multiplied by BC. But
surely it is not difficult to see the difference of these
strains. It is plain that the pressure of gravity downwards
on any point between the end A and the point C has no
tendency to diminish the strain at C, arising from the up¬
ward re-action of the prop B; whereas the pressure of
gravity between C and B is almost in direct opposition to
it, and must diminish it. W e may however avoid the
fluxionary calculus with safety by the consideration of
the centre of gravity, by supposing the weights of AC and
BC to be collected at their respective centres of gravity;
and the result of this computation will be the same as
above: and we may use either method, although the
weight be not uniformly distributed, provided only that we
know in what manner it is distributed.
This investigation is evidently of importance in the
practice of the engineer and architect, informing them
what support is necessary in the different parts of their
constructions. We considered some cases of this kind in
the article Roof.
To form a It is now easy to form a joist so that it shall have the
may have51 Same re^at‘ve strength in all its parts.
th/same6 . L To .make & equally able in all its parts to carry a
relative given weight laid on any point C taken at random, or uni¬
strength in formly diffused over the whole length, the strength of the
ell its parts, section at the point C must be as AC X CB. Therefore,
1. If the sides be parallel vertical planes, the square of
the depth (which is the only variable dimension), or CD2,
must be as AC X CB, and the depths must be ordinates of
an ellipse.
2. If the transverse sections be similar, we must make
CD3 as AC X CB.
3. If the upper and under surfaces be parallel, the
breadth must be as AC X CB.
II. If the beam be necessarily loaded at some given
point C, and we would have the beam equally able in all
its parts to resist the strain arising from the weight at C,
we must make the strength of every transverse section
between C and either end as its distance from that end.
Therefore,
VOL. xx.
1. If the sides be parallel vertical planes, we must make Strength of
CD2 : EF2 rz AC : AE. Materials.
2. If the sections be similar, then CD3: EF3=: AC: AE.
3. If the upper and under surfaces be parallel, then
breadth at C : breadth at E = AC : AE.
The same principles enable us to determine the strain The strain
and strength of square or circular plates of different ex- ari(l
tent but equal thickness. This may be comprehended in strenS'^
this general proposition. square or
^ circular
bimuar plates of equal thickness supported all round plates of
will carry the same absolute weight, uniformly distributed, different
or resting on similar points, whatever be their extent. extent but
Suppose two similar oblong plates of equal thickness, ®/.ec*ua*
and let their lengths and breadths be L, l, and B, b. LetZ^fl.
their strength or momentum of cohesion be C, c, and thetermined*3
strains from the weights W, w, be S, s. from the
Suppose the plates supported at the ends only, andsame Prin-
resisting fracture transversely. The strains, being as the c^es‘
weights and lengths, are as WL and wl, but their cohe¬
sions are as the breadths ; and since they are of equal rela¬
tive strength, we have WL : w/ = B : 6, and WL6 = W/B,
and L : / = wB : W6 ; but since they are of similar shapes,
L : / z= B : and therefore w — W.
L The same reasoning holds again when they are also
supported along the sides, and therefore holds when they
are supported all round (in which case the strength is
doubled).
And if the plates be of any other figure, such as circles
or ellipses, we need only conceive similar rectangles in¬
scribed in them. These are supported all around by the
continuity of the plates, and therefore will sustain equal
weights ; and the same may be said of the segments which
lie without them, because the strengths of any similar seg¬
ments are equal, their lengths being as their breadths.
Therefore the thickness of the bottoms of vessels hold¬
ing heavy liquors or grains should be as their diameters
and as the square root of their depths jointly.
Also the weight which a square plate will bear is to that
which a bar of the same matter and thickness will bear as
twice the length of the bar to its breadth.
There is yet another modification of the strain which The strain
tends to break a body transversely, which is of very fre-of a beam
quent occurrence, and in some cases must be very care- arisingfrorc
fully attended to, viz. the strain arising from its ownits .ovm
weight. weight.
When a beam projects from a wall, every section is
strained by the weight of all that projects beyond it. This
may be considered as all collected at its centre of gravity.
Therefore the strain on any section is in the joint ratio of
the weight of what projects beyond it, and the distance of
its centre of gravity from the section.
The determination of this strain, and of the strength ne- r
cessary for withstanding it, must be more complicated than prSe
the former, because the form of the piece which results respecting
from this adjustment of strain and strength influences the11,
strain. The general principle must evidently be, that the
strength or momentum of cohesion of every section must
be as the product of the weight beyond it, multiplied by
the distance of its centre of gravity. For example :
Suppose the beam DLA (fig. 15) to project from the
wall, and that its sides are
parallel vertical planes, so Fig. 15.
that the depth is the only
variable dimension. Let
LB = x and B5 =r y. The
element B5cC is Let
G be the centre of gravity
of the part lying without
B5, and g be its distance
from the extremity L. Then x — g is the arm of the
lever by which the strain is excited in the section B5.
5 K
770
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
of LB
Strength of Let or y be as some power
Then the contents of LB6 is
that is,
rj»+i
let
The
y — x7n. men tne cumcuto ^ ^ |
momentum of gravity round a horizontal axis at L is
yxdx=xmHdx, and the whole momentum round the axis is
a;1“+-2. The distance of the centre of gravity from L is
m-j-2
had by dividing this momentum by the whole weight, which
a; X »* + 1
„r»+l
The quotient or y is
tance of the centre of gravity from the section
xXm+ 1 __xXm 2—x x w»+l_ x
and the dis-
x—-
B6 is
There-
A conoid
equally
able in
every sec¬
tion to bear
its own
weight.
The more
a beam
projects,
the less
able it is
to bear
its own
weight.
Small bo¬
dies more
able to
withstand
the strain
produced
by the
weight of
m + 2 m -f- 2 m + 2
fore the strain on the section Bb is had by multiplying
~,mtl r
 by——. The product is - —— 1 This
?/i -j- 1 ~ m 2 X w + 1
must be as the square of the depth, or as ys. But y is as
xm, and y1 as ic2m. Therefore we have m -j- 2 — 2m, and
m = 2; that is, the depth must be as the square of the
distance from the extremity, and the curve L6A is a para¬
bola touching the horizontal line in L.
It is easy to see that a conoid formed by the rotation of
this figure round DL will also be equally able in every sec¬
tion to bear its own weight.
We need not prosecute this farther. When the figure
of the piece is given, there is no difficulty in finding the
strain; and the circumstance of equal strength to resist this
strain is chiefly a matter of curiosity.
It is evident, from what has been already said, that a pro¬
jecting beam becomes less able to bear its own weight as
it projects farther. Whatever may be the strength of the
section DA, the length may be such that it will break by
its own weight. If we suppose two beams A and B of the
same substance and similar shapes, that is, having their
lengths and diameters in the same proportion ; and further
suppose that the shorter can just bear its own weight; then
the longer beam will not be able to do the same ; for the
strengths of the sections are as the cubes of the diameters,
while the strains are as the biquadrates of the diameters ;
because the weights are as the cubes, and the levers by
which these weights act in producing the strain are as the
lengths or as the diameters.
These considerations show us, that in all cases where
strain is affected by the weight of the parts of the machine
or structure of any kind, the smaller bodies are more able
to withstand it than the greater; and there seem to be
bounds set by nature to the size of machines constructed of
any given materials. Even when the weight of the parts of
the machine is not taken into the account, we cannot en-
an herb could not support it if it were increased to the size Strength of
of a tree, nor could an oak support itself if forty or fifty Materials,
times bigger ; nor could an animal of the make of a long-
legged spider be increased to the size of a man ; the articu¬
lations of its legs could not support it.
Hence may be understood the prodigious superiority ofEven small
the small animals both in strength and agility. A man by animals are
falling twice his own height may break his firmest bones.
A mouse may fall twenty times its height without risk ; and strength
even the tender mite or wood-louse may fall unhurt from and agility,
the top of a steeple. But their greatest superiority is in re¬
spect of nimbleness and agility. A flea can leap above 500
times its own length, while the strength of the human muscles
could not raise the trunk from the ground on limbs of the
same construction.
The angular motions of small animals (in which consists
their nimbleness or agility) must be greater than those of
large animals, supposing the force of the muscular fibre to
be the same in both. For supposing them similar, the num¬
ber of equal fibres will be as the square of their linear di¬
mensions ; and the levers by which they act are as their
linear dimensions. The energy therefore of the moving
force is as the cube of these dimensions. But the momen¬
tum of inertia, or fp • rz, is as the fourth power ; therefore
the angular velocity of the greater animals is smaller. The
number of strokes which a fly makes with its wings in a se¬
cond is astonishingly great; yet, being voluntary, they are
the effects of its agility.
We have hitherto confined our attention to the simplest
form in which this transverse strain can be produced. This
was quite sufficient for showing us the mechanism of na¬
ture by which the strain is resisted ; and a very slight at¬
tention is sufficient for enabling us to reduce to this every
other way in which the strain can be produced. We shall
not take up the reader’s time with the application of the
same principles to other cases of this strain, but refer him
to what has been said in the article Roof. In that arti¬
cle we have shown the analogy between the strain on the
section of a beam projecting from a wall and loaded at the
extremity, and the strain on the same section of a beam
simply resting on supports at the ends, and loaded at some
intermediate point or points. The strain on the middle C
of a beam AB (fig. 16) so supported, arising from a weight
laid on there, is the same
with the strain which half Fig. 16.
that weight hanging at B ^ G B
would produce on the same | ° 1
section C, if the other end ^ 7\ _~ 2a
of the beam were fixed in
a w7all. If therefore 1000 pounds hung on the end of a beam
chine than ^arSe them ln same proportion in all their parts. Thus
creat bo- a steam-engine cannot be doubled in all its parts, so as to
dies. be still efficient. The pressure on the piston is quadrupled.
If the lift of the pump be also doubled in height while it is
doubled in diameter, the load will be increased eight times,
and will therefore exceed the power. The depth of lift,
therefore, must remain unchanged; and in this case the
machine will be of the same relative strength as before, in¬
dependent of its own weight. For the beam being doubled
in all its dimensions, its momentum of cohesion is eight
times greater, which is again a balance for a quadruple load
acting by a double lever. But if we now consider the in¬
crease of the weight of the machine itself, which must be
supported, and which must be put in motion by the inter¬
vention of its cohesion, we see that the large machine is
weaker and less efficient than the small one.
There is a similar limit set by nature to the size of plants
and animals formed of the same matter. The cohesion of
projecting ten feet from a wall will just break it at the wall,
it will require 4000 pounds on its middle to break the same
beam resting on two props ten feet asunder. W e have also
shown in that article the additional strength which will be
given to this beam by extending both ends beyond the props,
and there framing it firmly into other pillars or supports. W e Effects cf
can hardly add any thing to what has been said in that article, obliquity
except a few observations on the effects of the obliquity of^ ^ ex*
the external force. W^e have hitherto supposed it to act in
the direction BP (fig. 6) perpendicular to the length of the
beam. Suppose it to act in the direction BP', oblique to
BA. In the article Roof we supposed the strain to be the
same as if the force p acted at the distance AB', but still
perpendicular to AB: so it is. But the strength of the
section Aa is not the same in both cases; for by the obli¬
quity of the action the piece DCKA is pressed to the other.
We are not sufficiently acquainted with the corpuscular
forces to say precisely what will be the effect of the pres¬
sure arising from this obliquity; but we can clearly see in
general, that the point A, which in the instant of fracture
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
771
Strengthens neither stretched nor compressed, must now be farther
Materials.^ Up> or nearer t0 ]) • an(] therefore the number of particles
' " ' which are exerting cohesive forces is smaller, and therefore
the strength is diminished. Therefore, when we endeavour
to proportion the strength of a beam to the strain arising
from an external force acting obliquely, we make too liberal
allowance by increasing this external force in the ratio of
AB to AB'. We acknowledge our inability to assign the
proper correction. But this circumstance is of very great
influence. In many machines, and many framings of car¬
pentry, this oblique action of the straining force is unavoid¬
able ; and the most enormous strains to which materials are
exposed are generally of this kind. In the frames set up for
carrying the ringstones of arches, it is hardly possible to
avoid them ; for although the judicious engineer dispose
his beams so as to sustain only pressures in the direction of
their lengths, tending either to crush them or to tear them
asunder, it frequently happens that, by the settling of the
work, the pieces come to check and bear on each other
transversely, tending to break each other across. This we
have remarked upon in the article Roof, with respect to a
truss by Mr Price (see Roof, p. 452-54). Now when a cross
strain is thus combined with an enormous pressure in the
direction of the length of the beam, it is in the utmost dan¬
ger of snapping suddenly across. This is one great cause
of the carrying away of masts. They are compressed in the
direction of their length by the united force of the shrouds,
and in this state the transverse action of the wind soon
completes the fracture.
The strain When considering the compressing strains to which ma-
oncolumns, terials are exposed, we deferred the discussion of the strain
on columns, observing that it was not, in the cases which
usually occur, a simple compression, but was combined with
a transverse strain, arising from the bending of the column.
When the column ACB (fig. 17), resting on the ground at
B, and loaded at top with a weight A, acting in
the vertical direction AB, is bent into a curve
ACB, so that the tangent at C is perpendi¬
cular to the horizon, its condition somewhat
resembles that of a beam firmly fixed between
B and C, and strongly pulled by the end A, so
as to bend it between C and A. Although we
cannot conceive how a force acting on a straight
column AB in the direction AB can bend it,
we may suppose that the force acted first in the
horizontal direction Ab till it was bent to
this degree, and that the rope was then gra¬
dually removed from the direction Ab to the
direction AB, increasing the force as much as
is necessary for preserving the same quantity of
flexure.
Observa- The first author, we believe, who considered this im-
tions on portant subject with scrupulous attention was the celebrated
o«-Euler, who published in the Berlin Memoirs for 1757 his
strength e0f theory t^ie Strength of Columns. The general propo-
columns. sition established by this theory is, that the strength of
prismatical columns is in the direct quadruplicate ratio of
their diameters, and the inverse duplicate ratio of their
lengths. He prosecuted this subject in the Petersburg
Commentaries for 1778, confirming his former theory. We
do not find that any other author has bestowed much at¬
tention on it, all seeming to acquiesce in the determinations
of Euler, and to consider the subject as of very great diffi¬
culty, requiring the application of the most refined mathe¬
matics. Muschenbroeck has compared the theory with ex¬
periment ; but the comparison has been very unsatisfactory,
the difference from the theory being so enormous as to af¬
ford no argument for its justness. But the experiments do
not contradict it, for they are so anomalous as to afford no
conclusion or general rule whatever.
To say the truth, the theory can be considered in no
other light than as a specimen of ingenious and very artful Strength of
algebraic analysis. Euler was unquestionably the first Materials,
analyst in Europe for resource and address. He knew ~v——'
this, and enjoyed his superiority, and without scruple ad¬
mitted any physical assumptions which gave him an op¬
portunity of displaying his skill. The inconsistency of his
assumptions with the known laws of mechanism gave him
no concern; and when his algebraic processes led him to
any conclusion which would make his readers stare, being
contrary to all our usual notions, he frankly owned the
paradox, but went on in his analysis, saying, Sed analysi
mayis Jidendum. Mr Robins has given some very risible
instances of this confidence in his analysis, or rather of his
confidence in the indolent submission of his readers. Nay,
so fond was he of this kind of amusement, that after hav¬
ing published an untenable Theory of Light and Colours,
he published several Memoirs, explaining the aberration of
the heavenly bodies, deducing some very wonderful con¬
sequences, fully confirmed by experience, from the New¬
tonian principles, which were opposite and totally incon¬
sistent with his own theory, merely because the Newtonian
theory gave him occasionem analyseos promovendau We
are thus severe in our observations, because his Theory of
the Strength of Columns is one of the strongest instances of
this wanton kind of proceeding, and because his followers
in the Academy of St Petersburg, such as Fuss, Lexill,
and others, adopt his conclusions, and merely echo his
words. Since the death of Daniel Bernoulli, no member
of that academy has controverted any thing advanced by
their Professor sublimis Geometrice, to whom they had been
indebted for their places and for all their knowledge, hav¬
ing been (most of them) his amanuenses, employed by this
wonderful man during his blindness, to make his computa¬
tions and carry on his algebraic investigations. We are not
a little surprised to see Mr Emerson, a considerable mathe¬
matician, and a man of very independent spirit, hastily
adopting the same theory, of which we doubt not but our
readers will easily see the falsity.
Euler considers the column ACB as in a condition pre¬
cisely similar to that of an elastic rod bent into the curve
by a cord AB connecting its extremities. In this he is
not mistaken. But he then draws CD perpendicular to
AB, and considers the strain on the section C as equal to
the momentum or mechanical energy of the weight A, act¬
ing in the direction DE, upon the lever kcD, moveable
round the fulcrum c, and tending to tear asunder the par¬
ticles which cohere along the section cCk. This is the
same principle (as Euler admits) employed by James Ber¬
noulli in his investigation of the elastic curve ACB. Euler
considers the strain on the section ck as the same with what
it would sustain if the same power acted in the horizontal
direction EF on a point E, as far removed from C as the
point D is. Wfo reasoned in the same manner (as has been
observed) in the article Roof, where the obliquity of ac¬
tion was inconsiderable. But in the present case this sub¬
stitution leads to the greatest mistakes, and has render¬
ed the whole of this theory false and useless. It would be
just if the column were of materials which are incompres¬
sible. But it is evident, by what has been said above, that
by the compression of the parts the real fulcrum of the lever
shifts away from the point c, so much the more as the com¬
pression is greater. In the great compressions of loaded
columns, and the almost unmeasurable compressions of the
truss-beams in the centres of bridges, and other cases of
chief importance, the fulcrum is shifted far over towards k>
so that very few fibres resist the fracture by their cohesion,
and these few have a very feeble energy or momentum, on
account of the short arm of the lever by which they act.
This is a most important consideration in carpentry, yet
makes no element of Euler’s theory. The consequence of
this is, that a very small degree of curvature is. sufficient
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
772
Strength of to cause the column or strut to snap in an instant, as is
Materials. known to every experienced carpenter. The experi-
■1 v ment by Muschenbroeck, which Euler makes use of in order
to obtain a measure of strength in a particular instance,
from which he might deduce all others by his theorem, is
an incontestable proof of this. The force which broke the
column is not the twentieth part of what is necessary for
breaking it by acting at E in the direction EF. Euler
takes no notice of this immense discrepancy, because it
must have caused him to abandon the speculation with
which he was then amusing himself.
This then- The limits of this work do not afford room to enter mi¬
ry false andnutely upon the refutation of this theory; but we can easily
useless. S]10W its uselessness, by its total inconsistency with com¬
mon observation. It results legitimately from this theory,
that if CD have no magnitude, the weight A can have no
momentum, and the column cannot be broken. True, it
cannot be broken in this way, snapped by a transverse
fracture, if it do not bend ; but we know very well that it
can be crushed or crippled, and we see this frequently hap¬
pen. This circumstance or event does not enter into Eu¬
ler’s investigation, and therefore the theory is at least im¬
perfect and useless. Had this crippling been introduced in
the form of a physical assumption, every topic of reasoning
employed in the process must have been laid aside, as the
intelligent reader will easily see. But the theory is not
only imperfect, but false. The ordinary reader will be con¬
vinced of this by another legitimate consequence of it. Fig.
18 is the same with fig. 106 of Emer¬
son’s Mechanics, where this subject
is treated on Euler’s principles, and
represents a crooked piece of matter
resting on the ground at F, and load¬
ed at A with a weight acting in the
vertical direction AF. It results from
Euler’s theory that the strains at by
B, D, E, &c. are as be, BC, DI, EK,
&c. Therefore the strains at G and
H are nothing ; and this is asserted
by Emerson and Euler as a serious
truth; and the piece may be thinned
ad infinitum in these two places, or
even cut through, without any dimi¬
nution of its strength. The absurdity of this assertion
strikes at first hearing. Euler asserts the same thing with
respect to a point of contrary flexure. Farther discussion
is, we apprehend, needless.
Yet Euler’s This theory must therefore be given up. Yet these dis-
disserta- sertations of Euler in the Petersburg Commentaries de-
tions de- 3erve a perusal, both as very ingenious specimens of analy-
serveaper-gjg^ and because they contain maxims of practice which are
US ’ important. Although they give an erroneous measure of
the comparative strength of columns, they show the im¬
mense importance of preventing all bendings, and point out
with accuracy where the tendencies to bend are greatest,
and how this may be prevented by very small forces, and
what a prodigious accession of force this gives the column.
There is a valuable paper in the same volume by Fuss on
the Strains on framed Carpentry, which may also be read
with advantage. ,
A new It will now be asked, what shall be substituted in place
theory can-0f this erroneous theory ? what is the true proportion of the
not be sub- strength Gf columns? We acknowledge our inability to give
place^ofln a satisfactory answer. This can only be obtained by a pre-
Euler’s till vi°us knowledge of the proportion between the extensions
many expe- and compressions produced by equal forces, by the know-
riments be ledge of the absolute compressions producible by a given
made. force, and by a knowledge of the degree of that derange¬
ment of parts which is termed crippling. These circum¬
stances are but imperfectly known to us, and there lies be¬
fore us a wide field of experimental inquiry. Fortunately
the force requisite for crippling a beam is prodigious, and Strength of
a very small lateral support is sufficient to prevent that, a C"a S‘.
bending which puts the beam in imminent danger. A ju-
dicious engineer will always employ transverse bridles, as
they are called, to stay the middle of long beams which are
employed as pillars, struts, or truss-beams, and are exposed,
by their position, to enormous pressures in the direction of
their lengths. Such stays may be observed, disposed with
great judgment and economy, in the centres employed by
Mr Perronet in the erection of his great stone arches. He
was obliged to correct this omission made by his ingenious
predecessor in the beautiful centres of the bridge of Orleans,
which we have no hesitation in affirming to be the finest
piece of carpentry in the world.
It only remains on this head to compare these theoretical
deductions with experiment.
Experiments on the transverse strength of bodies are
easily made, and accordingly are very numerous, especially
those made on timber, which is the case most common and
most interesting. But in this great number of experiments
there are very few from which we can draw much practical
information. The experiments have in general been made
on such small scantlings, that the unavoidable natural ine¬
qualities bear too great a proportion to the strength of the
whole piece. Accordingly, when we compare the experi¬
ments of different authors, we find them differ enormously,
and even the experiments by the same author are very
anomalous. The completest series that we have yet seen Table of
is that detailed by Belidor in his Science des Ingenieurs. ^f^smade
They are contained in the following table. The pieces^ geiidor.
were sound, even-grained oak. The column b contains the
breadths of the pieces in inches; the column d contains
their depths; the column l contains their lengths ; column
p contains the weights (in pounds) which broke them when
hung on their middles; and m is the column of averages or
mediums.
Fig. 18.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of By comparing Experiments 1st and 3d, the strength ap
Materials. pearg pr0p0rti0nai to the breadth.
Corollaries Experiments 3d and 4th show the strengtl:
773
This is a spe-Strength of
Materials.
Let fig. 19 represent
Fig. 19.
^ ;li proportional
derived the square of the depth,
from them. Experiments 1st and 5th show the strength nearly in the
inverse proportion of the lengths, but with a sensible defi¬
ciency in the longer pieces.
Experiments 5th and 7th show the strengths proportional
to the breadths and the square of the depth.
Experiments 1st and 7th show the same thing, com¬
pounded with the inverse proportion of the length: here the
deficiency relative to the length is not so remarkable.
Experiments 1st and 2d, and experiments 5th and 6th,
show the increase of strength, by fastening the ends, to be
in the proportion of two to three. The theory gives the pro¬
portion of two to four. But a difference in the manner of
fixing may produce this deviation from the theory, which
only supposed them to be held down at places beyond the
props, as when a joist is held in the walls, and also rests on
two pillars between the walls.
The chief source of irregularity in such experiments is
the fibrous, or rather plated texture of timber. It consists
of annual additions, whose cohesion with each other is vastly
weaker than that of their own fibres
the section of a ti'ee, and
ABCD, abed the section of two
battens that are to be cut out of
it for experiment, and let AD
and ad be the depths, and DC,
dc the breadths. The batten
ABCD will be the stronger,
for the same reason that an as¬
semblage of planks set edgewise
will form a stronger joist than
planks laid above each other like
the plates of a coach-spring. M.
Buffon found by many trials that
the strength of ABCD was to that of abed (in oak) nearly
as eight to seven. The authors of the different experiments
were not careful that their battens had their plates all dis¬
posed similarly with respect to the strain. But even with
this precaution they would not have afforded sure grounds
of computation for large works; for great beams occupy
much, if not the whole, of the section of the tree ; and from
this it has happened that their strength is less than in pro¬
portion to that of a small lath or batten. In short, we can
trust no experiments but such as have been made on large
beams. These must be very rare, for they are most ex¬
pensive and laborious, and exceed the abilities of most of
those who are disposed to study this subject.
But we are not wholly without such authority. M. Buf¬
fon and M. Duhamel, two of the first philosophers and
mechanicians of the age, were directed by government to
make experiments on this subject, and were supplied with
ample funds and apparatus. The relation of their experi¬
ments is to be found in the Memoirs of the French Aca¬
demy for 1740, 1741, 1742, 1768; as also in Duhamel’s
valuable performances Sur VExploitation des Arbres, et
sur la Conservation et le Transport de JBois. We ear¬
nestly recommend these dissertations to the perusal of our
readers, as containing much useful information relative to
the strength of timber, and the best methods of employing
it. We shall here give an abstract of M. Bulfon’s experi¬
ments.
M. Buf- He relates a great number which, during two years, he
ton s expe- ha(i prosecuted on small battens. He found that the odds
bars of5 0n a sing^e layer, or part of a layer, more or less, or even a
sound oak. different disposition of them, had such influence that he was
obliged to abandon this method, and to have recourse to
the largest beams that he was able to break. The follow¬
ing table exhibits one series of experiments on bars of sound
oak, clear of knots, and four inches square,
cimen of all the rest.
Column 1st is the length of the bar in clear feet between
the supports.
Column 2d is the weight of the bar (the second day after
it was felled) in pounds. Two bars were tried of each
length. Each of the first three pairs consisted of two cuts
of the same tree. The one next the root was always found
the heaviest, stiffest, and strongest. Indeed M. Buffon says
that this was invariably true, that the heaviest was always
the strongest; and he recommends it as a certain (or sure)
rule for the choice of timber. He finds that this is always
the case when the timber has grown vigorously, forming
very thick annual layers. But he also observes that this
is only during the advances of the tree to maturity; for the
strength of the different circles approaches gradually to
equality during the tree’s healthy growth, and then it de¬
cays in these parts in a contrary order. Our tool-makers
assert the same thing with respect to beech : yet a contrary
opinion is very prevalent; and wood with a fine, that is, a
small grain, is frequently preferred. Perhaps no person has
ever made the trial with such minuteness as M. Buffon, and
we think that much deference is due to his opinion.
Column 3d is the number of pounds necessary for break¬
ing the tree in the course of a few minutes.
Column 4th is the number of inches which it bent down
before breaking.
Column 5th is the time at which it broke.
10
12
j 60
(56
J 68
(63
77
71
'84
82
/ 100
( 98
5350
5275
4600
4500
4100
3950
3625
3600
4
3-5
4*5
3- 75
4- 7
4-85
5*5
5-83
6*5
3050
2925
29
22
15
13
14
12
15
15
The experiments on other sizes were made in the same
way. A pair at least of each length and size was taken.
The mean results are contained in the following table. The
beams were all square, and their sizes in inches are placed at
the head of the columns, and their lengths in feet are in
the first column.
7
8
9
10
12
14
16
18
20
22
24
28
4
5312
4550
4025
3612
2987
11525
9787
8308
7125
6075
5300
4350
3700
3225
2975
2162
1775
18950
15525
13150
11250
9100
7475
6362
5562
4950
32200
26050
22350
19475
16175
13225
11000
9245
8375
8
47649
39750
32800
27750
23450
19775
16375
13200
11487
11525
10085
8964
8068
6723
5763
5042
4482
4034
3667
3362
2881
M. Buffon had found, by numerous trials, that oak-timber
lost much of its strength in the course of drying or season-
774
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of ing ; and therefore, in order to secure uniformity, his trees
Materials, ^ere all felled in the same season of the year, were squared
'     the day after, and tried the third day. Trying them in this
green state gave him an opportunity of observing a very
"curious and unaccountable phenomenon. When the weights
were laid briskly on, nearly sufficient to break the log, a
very sensible smoke was observed to issue from the two
ends with a sharp hissing noise. This continued all the
while the tree was bending and cracking. This shows that
the log is affected or strained through its whole length. In¬
deed this must be inferred from its bending through its
whole length. It also shows us the great effects of the
compression. It is a pity M. Buffon did not take notice
whether this smoke issued from the upper or compressed
half of the section only, or whether it came from the whole.
Observa- We must now make some observations on these experi-
tions on M. rnents, in order to compare them with the theory which we
Buffon’s have endeavoured to establish.
experi- Buffon considers the experiments with the five-inch
meiltS’ bars as the standard of comparison, having both extended
these to greater lengths, and having tried more pieces of
each length.
Our theory determines the relative strength of bars of
the same section to be inversely as their lengths. But, if
we except the five experiments in the first column, we find
a very great deviation from this rule. Ihus the five-inch
bar of twenty-eight feet long should have half the strength
of that of fourteen feet, or 52650; whereas it is but 1775.
The bar of fourteen feet should have half the strength of
that of seven feet, or 5762 ; whereas it is but 5300. In like
manner, the fourth of 11,525 is 2881; but the real strength
of the twenty-eight feet bar is 1775. We have added a
column A, which exhibits the strength which each of the
five-inch bars ought to have by the theory. I his devia¬
tion is most distinctly seen in fig. 20, where BK is the scale
Fig. 20.
• * • u   
26. 1Z 10 9 8 7
of lengths, B being at the point seven of the scale, and K
at twenty-eight. The ordinate CB is = 11,525, and the other
ordinates DE, GK, &c. are respectively = j——r-* The
lines DF, GH, &c. are made = 4350, 1775, &c., express¬
ing the strengths given by experiment. The ten-feet bar
and the twenty-four feet bar are remarkably anomalous.
But all are deficient, and the defect has an evident pro¬
gression from the first to the last. The same thing may
be shown of the other columns, and even of the first, though
it is very small in that column. It may also be observed
in the experiments of Belidor, and in all that we have seen.
We cannot doubt therefore of its being a law of nature, de¬
pending on the true principles of cohesion and the laws of
mechanics.
But it is very puzzling, and we cannot pretend to give a
satisfactory explanation of the difficulty. The only effect
which we can conceive the length of a beam to have, is to
increase the strain at the section of fracture, by employing
the intervening beam as a lever. But we do not distinctly
see what change this can produce in the mode ot action of Strength of
the fibres in this section, so as either to change their cohe- ^tatenals.
sion or the place of its centre of effort: yet something of^-^^-^
this kind must happen.
We see indeed some circumstances which must contri¬
bute to make a smaller weight sufficient, in M. Buffon’s ex¬
periments, to break a long beam, than in the exact inverse
proportion of its length.
In the first place, the weight of the beam itself augments
the strain as much as if half of it were added in the form of
a weight. M. Buffon has given the weights of every beam
on which he made experiments, which is very nearly seven¬
ty-four pounds per cubic foot. But they are much too small
to account for the deviation from the theory. The half
weights of the five-inch beams of seven, fourteen, and
twenty-eight feet length, are only forty-five, ninety-two,
and 182 pounds ; which makes the real strains in the ex¬
periments 11,560, 5390, and 1956 ; which are far from hav¬
ing the proportions of four, two, and one.
Buffon says that healthy trees are universally strongest
at the root end; therefore, when we use a longer beam, its
middle point, where it is broken in the experiment, is in a
weaker part of the tree. But the trials of the four-inch
beams show that the difference from this cause is almost in¬
sensible.
The length must have some mechanical influence which
the theory we have adopted has not yet explained. It may
not however be inadequate to the task. The very inge¬
nious investigation of the elastic curve by James Bernoulli
and other celebrated mathematicians is perhaps as refined
an application of mathematical analysis as w7e know7. Yet
in this investigation it was necessary, in order to avoid al¬
most insuperable difficulties, to take the simplest possible
case, viz. where the thickness is exceedingly small in com¬
parison with the length. If the thickness be considerable,
the quantities neglected in the calculus are too great to per¬
mit the conclusion to be accurate, or very nearly so. With¬
out being able to define the form into which an elastic body
of considerable thickness will be bent, w7e can say w ith con¬
fidence, that in an extreme case, where the compression in
the concave side is very great, the curvature differs consi¬
derably from the Bernoullian curve. But as our investiga¬
tion is incomplete and very long, we do not offer it to the
reader. The following more familiar considerations will, Probable
we apprehend, render it highly probable that the relative
strength of beams decreases faster than in the inverse ra- Sfren,rth of
tio of their length. The curious observation by M. Buffon, t)eams (je.
of the vapour which issued with the hissing noise from the creases
ends of a beam of green oak, while it was breaking by the faster than
load on its middle, shows that the whole length of the piece”*
was affected : indeed it must be, since it is bent through- ^
out. We have shown above, that a certain definite cur- ieUgth.
vature of a beam of a given form is always accompanied by
rupture. Now suppose the beam A of ten feet long, and
the beam B of twenty feet long, bent to the same degree,
at the place of their fixture in the wall; the weight which
hangs on A is nearly double of that which must hang on B.
The form of any portion, suppose five feet, of these two
beams, immediately adjoining to the wall, is considerably
different. At the distance of five feet the curvature of A is
half of its curvature at the wall. The curvature of B in the
corresponding point is three fourths of the same curvature
at the wall. Through the whole of the intermediate five
feet, therefore, the curvature of B is greater than that of A.
This must make it weaker throughout. It must occasion
the fibres to slide more on each other (that it may acquire
this greater curvature), and thus affect their lateral union ;
and therefore those which are stronger will not assist their
weaker neighbours. To this we must add, that in the
shorter beams the force with which the fibres are pressed
laterally on each other is double. This must impede the
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
775
Strength of mutual sliding of the fibres which we mentioned a little
Maten.i s. ag0 . nay^ ]aj-eraj compression may change the law of
longitudinal cohesion (as will readily appear to the reader
who is acquainted with Boscovich’s doctrines), and increase
the strength of the very surface of fracture, in the same way
(however inexplicable) as it does in metals when they are
hammered or drawn into wire.
I he reader must judge how far these remarks are worthy
of his attention. The engineer will carefully keep in mind
the important fact, that abeam of quadruple length, instead
of having one fourth of the strength, has only about one
sixth; and the philosopher should endeavour to discover
the cause of this diminution, that he may give the artist a
more accurate rule of computation.
t\ e cannot Our ignorance of the law by which the cohesion of the
theTprecise Pfrt‘c^es changes by a change of distance, hinders us from
relation be- discovering the precise relation between the curvature and
tween the the momentum of cohesion ; and all we can do is to multi-
curvature ply experiments, upon which we may establish some em-
and the pirical rules for calculating the strength of solids. Those
o feu lie si oli" ^rom which we must reason at present are too few and too
anomalous to be the foundation of such an empirical for¬
mula. We may however observe, that M. Buffon’s expe¬
riments gave us considerable assistance in this particular ;
for it to each of the numbers of the column for the five-inch
beams, corrected by adding half the weight of the beam, we
add the constant number 1245, we shall have a set of num¬
bers which are very nearly reciprocals of the lengths. Let
1245 be called c, and let the weight which is known by ex¬
periment to be necessary for breaking the five-inch beam
of the length a be called P. We shall have —— c=p.
Thus the weight necessary for breaking the seven-feet bar
is 11,560. This added to 1245, and the sum multiplied by
7, givesP+^Xazz89,635. Let / be 18 ; then^^—1245
io
zz3725 —p, which differs not more than ^-th from what
experiment gives us. This rule holds equally well in all
the other lengths except the 10 and 24 feet beams, which
are very anomalous. Such a formula is abundantly exact
for practice, and will answer through a much greater variety
of length, though it cannot be admitted as a true one ; be¬
cause, in a certain very great length, the strength will be
nothing. For other sizes the constant number must change
in the proportion of d3, or perhaps of p.
Relation The next comparison which we have to make with the
between theory is the relation between the strength and the square
and^he7 * * * 11^ t^le c^ePt^1 t^ie sect>on" This is made by comparing
square of whh each other the numbers in any horizontal line of the
the depth table. In making this comparison we find the numbers of
°f the sec- the five-inch bars uniformly greater than the rest. We
Ron. imagine that there is something peculiar to these bars ;
they are in general heavier than in the proportion of their
section, but not so much so as to account for all their su¬
periority. We imagine that this set of experiments, intend¬
ed as a standard for the rest, has been made at one time,
and that the season lias had a considerable influence. The
fact however is, that if this column be kept out, or uni¬
formly diminished about one sixteenth in their strength,
the different sizes will deviate very little from the ratio of
the square of the depth, as determined by theory. There
is however a small deficiency in the bigger beams.
We have been thus anxious in the examination of these
experiments, because they are the only ones which have
been related in sufficient detail, and made on a proper
scale for giving us data from which we can deduce confi¬
dential maxims for practice. They are so troublesome and
expensive that we have little hopes of seeing their number
greatly increased ; yet surely our navy board would do an
unspeakable service to the public by appropriating a fund Strength of
for such experiments under the management of some man Materials,
of science.
There remains another comparison which is of chief im-Proportion
portance, namely, the proportion between the absolute eo-b^'v66'1
hesion and the relative strength. It may be guessed, from
the very nature of the thing, that this must be very uncer-sio®.^(11^e
tain. Experiments on the absolute strength must be con-relative
fined to very small pieces, by reason of the very great forces strength,
which are required for tearing them asunder. The values
therefore deduced from them must be subject to great in¬
equalities. Unfortunately we possess no detail of any ex¬
periments ; all that we have to depend on are two passages
of Muschenbroeck’s Essais de Physique ; in one of which
he says, that a piece of sound oak -^yths of an inch square
is torn asunder by 1150 pounds ; and in the other, that an
oak plank twelve inches broad and one thick will just sus¬
pend 189,163 pounds. These give for the cohesion of an
inch square 15,755 and 15,763 pounds. Bouguer, in his
Trade du Navire, says that it is very well known that a rod
of sound oak one fourth of an inch square will be torn
asunder by 1000 pounds. This gives 16,000 for the cohe¬
sion of a square inch. ■ We shall take this as a round num¬
ber, easily used in our computations. Let us compare this
with M. Buffon’s trials of beams four inches square.
The absolute cohesion of this section is 16,000x16=
256,000. Did every fibre exert its whole force in the in¬
stant of fracture, the momentum of cohesion would be the
same as if it had all acted at the centre of gravity of the
section at two inches from the axis of fracture, and is there¬
fore 512,000. 4 he four-inch beam, seven feet long, was
broken by 5312 pounds hung on its middle. The half of
this, or 2656 pounds, would have broken it, if suspended
at its extremity, projecting 3£ feet, or 42 inches, from a
wall. The momentum of this strain is therefore 2656x42
= 111,552. Now this is in equilibrio with the actual mo¬
mentum of cohesion, which is therefore 111,552 instead
of 512,000. The strength is therefore diminished in the
proportion of 512,000 to 111,552, or very nearly of 4’59
to 1.
As we are quite uncertain as to the place of the centre
of effort, it is needless to consider the full cohesion as act¬
ing at the centre of gravity, and producing the momentum
512,000 ; and we may convert the whole into a simple mul¬
tiplier m of the length, and say, as m times the length is to
the depth, so is the absolute cohesion oj" the section to the re¬
lative strength. Therefore let the absolute cohesion of a
square inch be calledthe breadth 5, the depth d, and the
length l (all in inches), the relative strength, or the exter¬
nal force, p, which balances it, is , or, in round num-
o/
fbd2
bers, ——; for ??i=2x4,59.
This great diminution of strength cannot be wholly ac¬
counted for by the inequality of the cohesive forces exert¬
ed in the instant of fracture; for in this case we know that
the centre of effort is at one third of the height in a rect¬
angular section (because the forces really exerted are as
the extensions of the fibres). The relative strength would
fbd2
be^-^-, and p would have been 8127 instead of 2656.
We must ascribe this diminution (which is three times
greater than that produced by the inequality of the cohe¬
sive forces) to the compression of the under part of the
beam ; and we must endeavour to explain in what manner
this compression produces an effect which seems so little
explicable by such means.
As we have repeatedly observed, it is a matter of nearly
universal experience that the forces actually exerted by the
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
776
Strength of particles of bodies, when stretched or compressed, are very
Materials, nearly in the proportion of the distances to which the par-
' v ' tides are drawn from their natural positions. Now, al¬
though we are certain that, in enoimous compressions, the
forces increase faster than in this proportion, this makes no
sensible change in the present question, because the body
is broken before the compressions have gone so far ; nay,
we imagine that the compressed parts are crippled in most
cases even before the extended parts are torn asunder
Muschenbroeck asserts this with great confidence with re¬
spect to oak, on the authority of his own experiments. He
says, that although oak will suspend half as much again as
fir* it will not support, as a pillar, two thirds of the load
which fir will support in that form.
We imagine therefore that the mechanism in the present
case is nearly as follows:
Let the beam DCKA (fig. 21) be loaded at its extre¬
mity with the weight P,
acting in the direction
KP perpendicular to
DC. Let Da be the
section of fracture. Let
DA be about one third
of DA. A will be the
particle or fibre which
is neither extended nor
compressed. Make Ad
: Dfl?=:DA : A A. The
triangles DAd, AAd,
will represent the ac-
Fig. 21.
cumulated attracting and repelling forces. Make AI and
Ai = ± DA and £ aA. The point I will be that to which
the full cohesion T)d ov f of the particles in AD must be
applied, so as to produce the same momentum which the
variable forces at I, D, &c. really produce at their several
points of application. In like manner, i is the circle of
similar effort of the repulsive forces excited by the com¬
pression between A and A, and it is the real fulcrum
of a bended lever L'K, by which the whole effect is pro¬
duced. The effect is the same as if the full cohesion of the
stretched fibres in AD were accumulated in I, and the full
repulsion of all the compressed fibres in AA were accumu¬
lated in i. The forces which are balanced in the opera¬
tion are the weight P, acting by the arm ki, and the full
cohesion of AD acting by the arm li. The forces exerted
by the compressed fibres between A and A only serve to
give support to the lever, that it may exert its strain.
We imagine that this does not differ much from the real
procedure of nature. The position of the point A may be
different from what we have deduced from Buffon s expe¬
riments, compared with Muschenbroeck’s value of the ab¬
solute cohesion of a square inch. If this last should be
only 12,000, DA must be greater than we have here made
it, in the proportion of 12,000 to 16,000. For \i must sthl
be made = ^ AA, supposing the forces to be proportional
to the extensions and compressions. There can be no
doubt that a part only of the cohesion of^DA operates in
resisting the fracture in all substances which have any coni-
pressibility; and it is confirmed by the experiments of M.
Duhamel on willow, and the inferences are by no means
confined to that species of timber. We say, therefore, that
when the beam is broken, the cohesion of AD alone is ex¬
erted, and that each fibre exerts a force proportional to its
extension ; and the accumulated momentum is the same as
if the full cohesion of AD were acting by the lever I* 3d
of Da.
It may be said, that if only one third of the cohesion of
oak be exerted, it may be cut two thirds through without
weakening it. But this cannot be, because the cohesion of
the whole is employed in preventing the lateral slide so
often mentioned. We have no experiments to determine
that it may not be cut through one third without loss of its Strength of
strength. Material^
This must not be considered as a subject of mere specu- ^
lative curiosity. It is intimately connected with all the
practical uses which we can make of this knowledge ; for it
is almost the only way that we can learn the compressibility
of timber. Experiments on the direct cohesion are indeed
difficult, and exceedingly expensive if we attempt them in
large pieces. But experiments on compression are almost
impracticable. The most instructive experiments would
be, first to establish, by a great number of trials, the trans¬
verse force of a moderate batten ; and then to make a great
number of trials of the diminution of its strength, by cutting
it through on the concave side. This would very nearly
give us the proportion of the cohesion which really operates
in resisting fractures. Thus if it be found that one half of
the beam may be cut on the under side without diminution
of its strength (taking care to drive in a slice of harder
wood), we may conclude that the point A is at the middle,
or somewhat above it.
Much lies before the curious mechanician, and we are as
yet very far from a scientific knowledge of the strength of
timber.
In the mean time, we may derive from these experiments A useful
of Buffon a very useful practical rule, without relying on practical
any value of the absolute cohesion of oak. We see that the rule he
strength is nearly as the breadth, as the square of the
depth, and as the inverse of the length. It is most conve-i3uffon’s
nient to measure the breadth and depth of the beam in experi-
inches, and its length in feet. Since, then, a beam four ments.
inches square and seven feet between the supports is broken
by 5312 pounds, we must conclude that a batten one inch
square and one foot between the supports will be broken
by 581 pounds. Then the strength of any other beam of
oak, or the weight which will just break it when hung on
bd2
its middle, is 581 -j-.
But we have seen that there is a very considerable devi¬
ation from the inverse proportion of the lengths, and we
must endeavour to accommodate our rule to this deviation.
We found, that by adding 1245 to each of the ordinates or
numbers in the column of the five-inch bars, we had a set
of numbers very nearly reciprocal of the lengths ; and if we
make a similar addition to the other columns in the propor¬
tion of the cubes of the sixes, we have nearly the same re¬
sult. The greatest error (except in the case of experi¬
ments which are very irregular) does not exceed yjth of the
whole. Therefore, for a radical number, add to the 5312
the number 640, which is to 1245 very nearly as 43 to 53.
This gives 5952. The 64th of this is 93, which corre¬
sponds to a bar of one inch square and seven feet long.
Therefore 93 X 7 will be the reciprocal corresponding to a
bar of one foot. This is 651. Take from this the present
b 40
empirical correction, which is 7- —> or and there re-
54
mains 641 for the strength of the bar. This gives us for a
bd2
general rule p — 651 —j 10 bd2.
Example. Required the weight necessary to break an
oak beam eight inches square and twenty feet between the
props,/> —• 651 X - — 10 X 8 X 82. This is 11,545,
whereas the experiment gives 11,487. The error is very
small indeed. The rule is most deficient in comparison
with the five-inch bars, which, we have already said, appear
stronger than the rest.
The following process is easily remembered by such as
are not algebraists.
Multiply the breadth in inches twice by the depth, and
if a twill q Ca^ product f. Multiply / by 651, and divide by the
length in feet. From the quotient take 10 times/. The re¬
mainder is the number of pounds which will break the beam.
We are not sufficiently sensible of our principles to be
confident that the correction 10/should be in the propor¬
tion of the section, although we think it most probable. It
is quite empirical, founded on Buffon’s experiments. There¬
fore the safe way of using this rule is to suppose the beam
square, by increasing or diminishing its breadth till equal
to the depth. Then find the strength by this rule, and di¬
minish or increase it for the change which has been made
in its breadth. Thus, there can be no doubt that the
strength of the beam given as an example is double of that
of a beam of the same depth and half the breadth.
The reader cannot but observe that all this calculation
relates to the very greatest weight which a beam will bear
for a very few minutes. M. Buffon uniformly found that
two thirds of this weight sensibly impaired its strength, and
frequently broke at the end of two or three months. One
half of this weight brought the beam to a certain bend,
which did not increase after the first minute or two, and
may be borne by the beam for any length of time. But
the beam contracted a bend, of which it did not recover
any considerable portion. One third seemed to have no
permanent effect on the beam ; but it recovered its rectili¬
neal shape completely, even after having been loaded seve¬
ral months, provided that the timber was seasoned when
first loaded ; that is to say, one third of the weight which
would quickly break a seasoned beam, or one fourth of
what would break one just felled, may lie on it for ever with¬
out giving the beam a set.
We have no detail of experiments on the strength of other
kinds of timber: only M. Buffon says, that fir has about
\oths of the strength of oak; Mr Parent makes it |gths;
Emerson, fds, &c.
We have been thus minute in our examination of the
mechanism of this transverse strain, because it is the great¬
est to which the parts of our machines are exposed. We
wish to impress on the minds of artists the necessity of
avoiding this as much as possible. They are improving in
this respect, as may be seen by comparing the centres on
which stone arches of great span are now turned with those
of former times. They were formerly a load of mere joists
resting on a multitude of posts, which obstructed the navi¬
gation, and were frequently losing their shape by some of
the posts sinking into the ground. Now they are more
generally trusses, where the beams abut on each other, and
are relieved from transverse strains. But many performances
of eminent artists are still very injudiciously exposed to cross
strains. We may instance one which is considered as a fine
work, viz. the bridge at Walton on Thames. Here every
beam of the great arch is a joist, and it hangs together by
framing. The finest piece of carpentry that we have seen
is the centre employed in turning the arches of the bridge
at Orleans, described by Perronet. In the whole there is
not one cross strain. The beam, too, of Hornblower’s
steam-engine is very scientifically constructed,
duced by0'• T,le last sPecies of strain which we are to examine
twisting. is ^ produced by twisting. This takes place in all axles
which connect the working parts of machines.
The resist- Although we cannot pretend to
be^ro^of ^ave & ver^ distinct conception of
tional°tr*1" t^iat rnodification of the cohesion
of a body by which it resists this
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Ill
AB, and that one part ABCD is pushed laterally in the Strength of
direction AB, there can be no doubt that it will yield only Materials.
there, and that the resistance will be proportional to the'  
surface.
In like manner, we can conceive a thin cylindrical tube,
of which KAH (fig. 23)
Fig. 23.
Fig. 22.
tional to
the num
her of par- kind of strain, we can have no doubt
tides.
that, when all the particles act alike,
the resistance must be proportional
to the number. Therefore if we
suppose the two parts ABCD,
ABFE (fig. 22), of the body EFCD to be of insuperable
strength, but cohering more weakly in the common surface
VOL. xx.
is the section, as cohering
more weakly in that sec¬
tion than anywhere else.
Suppose it to be grasped
in both hands, and the two
parts twisted round the
axis in opposite directions,
as we would twist the
joints of a flute; it is plain
that it will first fail in this section, which is the circum-
erence of a circle, and the particles of the two parts which
are contiguous to this circumference will be drawn from
each other laterally. The total resistance will be as the
number of equally resisting particles, that is, as the cir¬
cumference (for the tube being supposed very thin, there
can be no sensible difference between the dilatation of
the external and internal particles). We can now sup¬
pose another tube within this, and a third within the se¬
cond, and so on till we reach the centre. If the particles
of each ring exerted the same force (by suffering the
same dilatation in the direction of the circumference), the
resistance of each ring of the section would be as its cir-
cumference and its breadth (supposed indefinitely small),
and the whole resistance would be as the surface; and this
would represent the resistance of a solid cylinder. But
when a cylinder is twisted in this manner by an external
force applied to its circumference, the external parts will
suffer a greater circular extension than the internal; and it
appears that this extension (like the extension of a beam
strained transversely) will be proportional to the distance
of the particles from the axis. We cannot say that this is
demonstrable, but we can assign no proportion that is more
probable. I his being the case, the forces simultaneously
exerted by each particle will be as its distance from the
axis. Therefore the whole force exerted by each ring will
be as the square of its radius, and the accumulated force
actually exerted will be as the cube of the radius; that is,
the accumulated force exerted by the whole cylinder,
whose radius is CA, is to the accumulated force exerted
nt the same time by the part whose radius is CE, as CA3
to CE3.
The whole cohesion now exerted is just two thirds of
what it would be if all the particles were exerting the same
attractive forces which are just now exerted by the particles
in the external circumference. This is plain to any person
in the least familiar with the fluxionary calculus. But such
as are not may easily see it in this way.
Let the rectangle ACm be set upright on the surface of
the circle along the line CA, and revolve round the axis
Cc. It will generate a cylinder whose height is Cc or Aa
and having the circle KAH for its base. If the diagonal
Ca be supposed also to revolve, it is plain that the triangle
cCa will generate a cone of the same height, and having for
its base the circle described by the revolution of co, and the
point C for its apex. The cylindrical surface generated by
Aa will express the whole cohesion exerted by the circum¬
ference AHK, and the cylindrical surface generated by Eg
wdl represent the cohesion exerted by the circumference
ELM, and the solid generated by the triangle CA« will re¬
present the cohesion exerted by the whole circle AHK, and
the cylinder generated by the rectangle ACm will represent
the cohesion exerted by the same surface if each particle
had suffered the extension Aa. 1
Now it is plain, in the first place, that the solid generated
by the triangle «EC is to that generated bv aAC as EC3 to
5 F
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
778
Strength of ACS. In the next place, the solid generated by a AC is
Materials. tw0 thirds of the cylinder, because the cone generated by
cQa is one third of it. t
We may now suppose the cylinder twisted till the par¬
ticles in the external circumference lose their cohesion.
There can be no doubt that it will now be wrenched asun-
With wliatder, all the inner circles yielding in succession. Thus we
force a bo- obtain one useful information, viz. that a body of homogene-
dy of a ho- oug texture resists a simple twist with two thirds of the force
mogeneous hich it resists an attempt to force one part laterally
SSTsimifrom the other, or with one-third part of the force which
pie twist, will cut it asunder by a square-edged tool; for to drive a
square-edged tool through a piece of lead, for instance, is
the same as forcing a piece of the lead as thick as the tool
laterally away from the two pieces on each side of the tool.
Experiments of this kind do not seem difficult, and they
would give us very useful information.
The forces When two cylinders AHK and BNO are wrenched asun-
exerted in (Jer, we must conclude that the external particles of each
breaking are just pUt beyond their limits of cohesion, are equally ex-
two cyhn- ten(je(j, and are exerting equal forces. Hence it follows,
thTsquaresthat in the instant of fracture the sum-total of the forces
of the dia- actually exerted are as the squares of the diameters,
meters. For drawing the diagonal Ce, it is plain that Ee — A#
expresses the distension of the circumference ELM, and
that the solid generated by the triangle CEe expresses the
cohesion exerted by the surface of the circle ELM, when
the particles in the circumference suffer the extension Ee
equal to Aa. Now the solids generated by CAa and CEe
being respectively two thirds of the corresponding cylinders,
are as the squares of the diameters.
Relative Having thus ascertained the real strength of the section,
strength ofanj its relation to its absolute lateral strength, let us exa-
the section mine its strength relative to the external force employed to
to the ex- break it> q^bis examination is very simple in the case un-
employed06 der consideration. The straining force must act by some
to break it. lever, and the cohesion must oppose it by acting on some
other lever. The centre of the section may be the neutral
point, whose position is not disturbed.
Let F be the force exerted laterally by an exterior par¬
ticle. Let a be the radius of the cylinder, and x the indeter¬
minate distance of any circumference, and dx the indefinitely
small interval between the concentric arches; that is, let
dx be the breadth of a ring and x its radius. The forces
being as the extensions, and the extensions as the distances
from the axis, the cohesion actually exerted at any part of
any ring will be/-^. The force exerted by the whole
ring (being as the circumference or as the radius) will be
. The momentum of cohesion of a ring, being as
the straining force p is supposed to act; we shall have Strengthof
d*
F x -^d3 — pi, and F p.
the force multiplied by its lever, will be/-
,x3dx
The accu
x3dx
mulated momentum will be the sum or fluent of/
a4
that is, when x = a, it will be = Ifa3-
The resist- Hence we learn that the strength of an axle, by which
ance of the it resists being wrenched asunder by a force acting at a
axle is as - - ~ ' .... i. _ -.rii.- ,1: ^—
ter.
a/e as -given distance from the axis, is as the cube of its diameter.
Sfdiame But> further, 'fa3 is =f or X l «• Now/a2 represents
‘ the full lateral cohesion of the section. The momentum
therefore is the same as if the full lateral cohesion were ac¬
cumulated at a point distant from the axis by one fourth of
the radius, or one eighth of the diameter of the cylinder.
Therefore let F be the number of pounds which measure
the lateral cohesion of a circular inch, d the diameter of the
cylinder in inches, and l the length of the lever by which
We see in general that the strength of an axle, by which
it resists being wrenched asunder by twisting, is as the cube
of its diameter.
We see also that the internal parts are not acting so
powerfully as the external. If a hole be bored out of the
axle of half its diameter, the strength is diminished only one
eighth, while the quantity of matter is diminished one fourth.
Therefore hollow axles are stronger than solid ones con- Hollow
taining the same quantity of matter. Thus let the diameter axles more
be 5, and that of the hollow 4; then the diameter of an- proper than
other solid cylinder having the same quantity of matter801 ones‘ |
with the tube is 3. The strength of the solid cylinder of
the diameter 5 may be expressed by 53, or 125. Of this
the internal part (of the diameter 4) exerts 64; therefore
the strength of the tube is 125—64 61. But the strength
of the solid axle of the same quantity of matter and dia¬
meter 3 is 33, or 27, which is not half of that of the tube.
Engineers, therefore, have of late introduced this im-and now
provement in their machines, and the axles of cast iron are generally
all made hollow when their size will admit of it. They have use
the additional advantage of being much stiffer, and of afford¬
ing much better fixture for the flanches which are used for
connecting them with the wheels or levers by which they
are turned and strained. The superiority of strength of
hollow tubes over solid cylinders is much greater in this
kind of strain than in the former or transverse. In this last
case the strength of this tube would be to that of the solid
cylinder of equal weight as 61 to 32 and a half nearly.
The apparatus which we mentioned on a former occasion
for trying the lateral strength of a square inch of solid mat¬
ter, enabled us to try this theory of twist with all desirable
accuracy. The bar which hung down from the pin in the
former trials was now placed in a horizontal position, and
loaded with a weight at the extremity. Thus it acted as a The ratio
powerful lever, and enabled us to wrench asunder speci-of resist-
mens of the strongest materials. We found the results^.0
perfectly conformable to the theory, in as far as it deter-^ sjmpie
mined the proportional strength of different sizes and forms; lateral re¬
but we found the ratio of the resistance to twisting to the sistence ap-
simple lateral resistance considerably different, and it was
some time before we discovered the cause.
We had here taken the simplest view that is possible of
the action of cohesion in resisting a twist. It is frequently
exerted in a very different way. When, for instance, an
iron axle is joined to a wooden one by being driven into one
end of it, the extensions of the different circles of particles
are in a very different proportion. A little consideration
will show that the particles in immediate contact with the
iron axle are in a state of violent extension; so are the
particles of the exterior surface of the wooden part, and the
intermediate parts are less strained. It is almost impossible
to assign the exact proportion of the cohesive forces exert¬
ed in the different parts. Numberless cases can be point¬
ed out where parts of the axle are in a state of compression,
and where it is still more difficult to determine the state of
the other particles. We must content ourselves with the
deductions made from this simple case, which is fortunate¬
ly the most common. In the experiments just now men
tioned, the centre of the circle is by no means the neutral
point, and it is very difficult to ascertain its place; but But when
when this consideration occurred to us, we easily freed thethe^P®^‘
experiments from this uncertainty, by extending the lever ^tered, it
to both sides, and by means of a pulley applied equal force was exact-
to each arm, acting in opposite directions. Thus the centre ]y the same,
became the neutral point, and the resistance to twist was
found to be two thirds of the simple lateral strength.
We beg leave to mention here, that our success in these
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
779
Strength of experiments encouraged us to extend them much farther.
Materials. We hoped by these means to discover the absolute cohe-
sion of many substances, which would have required an
Expert- enormous apparatus and a most unmanageable force to tear
ments on them asunder directly. But we could reason with confi-
and wax^ ^ence from the resistance to twist (which we could easily
satisfac-* measure), provided that we could ascertain the proportion
tory; but the direct and the lateral strengths. Our experiments
those on on chalk, finely prepared clay, and white bee’s wax (of one
timber ir- melting and one temperature), were very consistent and
regular. satisfactory. But we have hitherto found great irregulari¬
ties in this proportion in bodies of a fibrous texture like
timber. These are the most important cases, and we still
hope to be able to accomplish our project, and to give the
public some valuable information. This being our sole
object, it was our duty to mention the method which pro¬
mises success, and thus excite others to the task; and it
will be no mortification to us to be deprived of the honour
of being the first who thus adds to the stock of experi¬
mental knowledge.
When the matter of the axle is of the most simple tex¬
ture, such as that of metals, we do not conceive that the
length of the axle has any influence on the fracture. It is
otherwise if it be of a fibrous texture like timber; the
fibres are bent before breaking, being twisted into spirals like
a corkscrew. The length of the axle has somewhat of the
influence of a lever in this case, and it is more easily wrenched
asunder if long. Accordingly we have found it so ; but we
have not been able to reduce this influence to calculation.
Many useful deductions might be made from these pre¬
mises respecting the manner of disposing and combining
the strength of materials in our structures. The best form
of joints, mortises, tenons, scarphs, the rules for joggling,
tabling, faying, fishing, &c., practised in the delicate art of
mast-making, are all founded on this doctrine ; but the dis¬
cussion of these would be equivalent to writing a complete
treatise of carpentry.
The most recent experiments on the strength and elas¬
ticity of material give the results entered in the following
tables:—
I.—Distensions of Rods for a Strain of one Pound per
Square Inch, computed from the results given in Tred-
gold, edition of 1840, as deduced from observations on
transverse strain.
British timber
Foreign timber
English malleable iron
r Oak 
J Larch 
1 Scotch fir 
(_Ash 
'Memel fir 
Norway fir 
American pine
White spruce .
Riga oak  
American oak .
'sthj'qts
virvznj
1
nnnrffTF
i
7S"inn>
i
TTTTTFTny
1
■SSTJUT)
II.—Cohesive Strengths of Pars per Square Inch.
lb. lb.
Oak  
Beech 
Ash  
Elm  
Mahogany 
Teak 
Pine (Norway).
Larch 
Iron wire  
Swedish iron....
English iron...,
Cast-iron 
.from 14,000 to 19,000
, „ 11,000 „ 22,000
„ 12,000 „ 17,000
„ 13,000 „ 14,000
„ 8,000 „ 21,000
„ 8,000 „ 15,000
„ 7,000 „ 14,000
„ 9,000 „ 10,000
„ 94,000 „ 113,000
„ 53,000 „ 78,000
„ 55,000 „ 66,000
„ 16,000 „ 33,000
(J. R.)
Practical Remarks.
We now give a few remarks on the foregoing sub¬
jects, which may be of use to practical men who may not
be acquainted with the higher branches of mathematics. Strength of
It has been seen that the foregoing treatise has explained Materials,
the limit of the strength of materials, and that they fail in
three ways :—1st, By tension, or being pulled asunder ; Failure of
2d, By compression, or being crushed; 3d, By transversematerial*
strain, or being broken across, either by heavy weights or
other similar causes.
1 With the first cause, the practical constructor has but Tension,
little to do beyond consulting Mr Emerson’s tables. They
will afford a near approximation (quality being taken into
the account) for weights to be suspended by iron-rods and
other materials; but, since his time, iron-chains have been
brought into much greater use, and iron wire-rope invented.
It is impossible, in our space, to give anything like the
information that has been published on this subject; our
readers, however, will find full tables of the breaking weight,
from 1 to 54 tons; the size in inches; the weight; and rela¬
tive cost per fathom of wire-rope, hempen-rope, and chain,
in Weale’s Engineers' Pocket-Book.
For the tensile strength of iron and steel, we must refer
to a very valuable paper in the Transactions of the Institu¬
tion of Engineers in Scotland, by Mr Robert Napier, from
experiments conducted by Mr David Kirkaldy, and the
valuable tables subjoined thereto, just published. It would
be impossible to give them in our limited space, as they
extend over many columns of closely printed matter. It
appears, however, that the breaking weight of bar-steel, per
square inch of its original area, varied from 132,000 lb. to
62,000 lb., while that of iron has varied from 96,000 lb. to
44,000 lb. The like breaking weight of steel-plate varied
from 96,000 lb. to 72,000 lb.; and that of iron from 56,000
lb. to 41,000 lb., and this is less than is generally given to
iron ; but it establishes the fact, that when used as bar
and plate iron, for rough reckoning may be considered to
have only about two-thirds the strength of steel.
Practically it is seldom necessary to consider the weight Compres-
any bodies would bear without crushing, except the wooden si°n*
story posts, or iron columns that support the fronts of
our houses, or the floors of our warehouses. The power
of brick or stone to resist crushing being generally so
very much more than those materials can have to carry,
it does not come into the consideration of the builder, or
engineer, except for very large works, where high profes¬
sional assistance ought always to be sought. It will be seen,
by an inspection of fig. 17, that posts generally fail first Story
by crippling or buckling; and it is easy to perceive how any posts,
horizontal strut placed opposite to F, to prevent the timber
bending in that direction, must add important strength to
the post AB ; and though it has been shown that Euler and
his followers have pushed deductions drawn from such theo¬
ries to the verge of absurdity, still, to the practical man,
this is matter of grave consideration. If in a shop-front, for
instance, we can get a strong transom between the story
posts 3 feet from the pavement, those posts are much
stronger than if they rose from floor to bressummer without
any cross strut, or stay. Formulae have been given again
and again on the subject; but as they necessitate involution
and evolution to cubic, and sometimes biquadratic, powers,
they should not be used except by skilled mathematicians.
There are, however, some very valuable tables given in
Barlow’s Tredgold, Nos. 16, 17, 18, and 19, for the scant¬
lings of story posts to carry the fronts of ordinary houses,
from two to five stories high, placed at various distances,
from 4 to 8 feet apart, ranging from 8 to 16 feet in height;
and some excellent information in Nicholson’s Carpentry,
chap, ii., 212, &c., on story posts generally.
Their superiority, in many points of view, has led to Iron
the extensive use of iron columns. The best engineers, for columns,
some years, have been occupied in making series of expe¬
riments on their bearing and breaking weights ; but none
on so large a scale as those of Mr Eaton Hodgkinson. The
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
780
Strength of results of which were communicated to the Koval Society
Materials, first in. 1840, and again in 1857 ; and which, by the kind-
ness of the author, are now before us ; with an Appendix
Mr Hodg- up to the present time. We regret wTe have not space for
his valuable tables. The results, however, may be stated
that he found that, in cylindrical pillars of cast-iron, the top
and bottom of which were turned perfectly true and fiat,
the breaking weight varied as the 3*55th power of the diame¬
ter, and inversely as the I’Tth power of the length, so that,
instead of the theory of Euler (commented on before in
page 760), which comes out — it was found to be
kinson’s
experi¬
ments.
/2
^3-55
P
d being the diameter, and / the length. In hollow
d and dx representing the outer
dt-M—d,
pillars, as 
3-55
Cross
strains.
Tension
and com¬
pression.
and inner diameters, and this for cases where the lengths
varied from 30 times the dimensions of the diameters to 120
times. But as it continually happens that practical men wish
to employ cast-iron columns, we must refer them to a series
of eleven tables, given in Weale’s Engineers' Pocket-Book ;
and subsequently in his Contractors' Price-Book, which
give the lengths in feet, the load in hundredweights, and
the extent of floor solid cast-iron columns will support from
2 inches to 8 inches in diameter, and hollow columns from
3 inches to 18 inches of various thicknesses of metal.
In the third branch of our subject, transverse strains,
we have first to regard those of beams of wood, and it has
been shown that in breaking a beam of wood by any weight
pulling downwards in the centre, that the upper halt of the
beam is in a state of compression, and the lower in a state
of tension. The practical man will understand this better
if he will take a small lead tube, or a piece of a boy’s rattan
cane, and bend it downwards in the middle. He will find the
top of the cane or tube will pucker up, the particles being
crushed together, wrhile the lower halt will be torn asunder.
In fact, we push together the fibres of the upper half and
draw apart those of the lower half. From this simple fact
all theories as to girders, whether of wood, or of cast or
wrought iron are based. Several things must be borne in
mind before we proceed; first, that a beam will bear twice
~o— the weight equally distributed over its surface than if col-
Proportion lected in the middle; that a beam of double width will
of depth to only carry a double load, but a beam of double depth will
carry four times the load of a single beam. This may be
understood by an inspection of fig. 3. If another beam of
the same size were placed alongside of it, the two beams
would do double the work of one; but if the beam ABCD
were of double depth, the two triangles BGe, FG/1 would
also be of double depth, and the power of the level age of
each would be doubled. # ^ j •
If a beam of any given length and width be fixed in
a wall at one end only, it will break with half the weight a
beam of half the length would bear, fixed at one end only.
In other words, a fourth of its strength is taken away by
removing the support from one end. If the ends are well
If ends se- wedged into a wall, instead of lying loose on the supports,
the strength is much increased, as the ends which lie on a
wall must “ cock up if the middle bends down while they
are loose, but should they be kept down tight by the super¬
incumbent weight of the wall, theyr will counteract to a
great degree the tendency to bending, and of course break¬
ing. The securing the ends of beams into walls is said to
increase their power to resist breaking weight from £ to
  The formulae given by Tredgold are too abstruse
late the for general purposes. There is, however, one given by
strength of £Jicfi0]s0n which is simple, and not far from the truth. A
a earn. number of experiments were made on pieces of various
wood's, each one inch square and a foot long, and the weights
which broke them recorded. Then as this weight c : is to
the length of any given beam in feet / :: so is the weight the
beam will have to bear (in pounds) W : to the breadth h mul- Strength of
tiplied into the square of the depth d of the intended beam ; Materials,
or as c : / :: W : 5 x <22. Any of these three being given, the 7
fourth is easily found. The breaking weight of Memel fir he
gives as 330, that of oak he gives as 810, but this last seems
too much. Suppose there is a warehouse 16 feet wide, the
girders of which are 10 feet apart, and each superficial foot
is to carry 3 cwt. or 336 lb. Then as each girder supports
16 x 10=160 feet superficial, and as each toot is to carry
336 lb., the total weight to be carried is 53,760 lb. distri¬
buted over the whole, or half this 26,880 lb. in the centre.
Then as 330 :16 :: 26,880 : 1303, or the breadth multiplied
into the square of the depth. But this is breaking weight,
and no timber ought to be used of less strength than four times
this. Then 1303 x 4 = 5212, the least amount we ought
to reckon upon. Now we have our choice either to assume
a breadth or a depth. Suppose we are confined to 17
5212
inches for the latter. Phen^ n „ i = 16 inches veiyneatly.
5212
if = 347>
Distri
bated
weight.
width.
If sup¬
ported on
both ends.
At one
end.
cured.
To calcu¬
late the
17x17
If we assume 15 inches as our breadth, then
the square root of which is nearly 19 inches; so that we
may have a girder 18 inches wide and 17 inches deep, oi
one 15 inches wide and 19 inches deep, as we please.
As has been said before, formulae for calculating these Scantlings
have been given, but too abstruse for general practice, o1 timDer-
Valuable tables, however, will be found both in Gimlt, En-
cyclopcedia of Architecture, in Tredgold, and several othei
books, both tor floors and roofs. For floors, in Gwilt, Art.
2015 to 2022; in Tredgold, Tables Nos. 1 to 4: for roofs, in
Gwilt, Art. 2036 to 2040 ; in Tredgold, Tables Nos. 5 to 15.
The former author seems to give stronger scantlings in pro¬
portion than the second, but of course considerable discretion
must be used, as we must take into account the weight of the
covering and flatness of pitch. It must be lemembered,
also, that common joists are much strengthened by Cl°s3
strutting, and all girders above 25 feet in length should be
trussed. (See Building, pp. 748-749.) Wi;n0a
The strength of an inclined beam as a rafter has been "ed
shown to be as the cosine of the angle it forms with
the horizon. Therefore the strength of the rafter AB, Art.
Roof, fm. 3, is the same as that of a beam of similar scant¬
ling in a horizontal position of the length between the per¬
pendiculars of its two ends, as AF.
The advantages of timber beams are, they do not 'an j
shrink in length, and they show signs of fractnre before
there is danger, and yield gradually if overloaded. I he tageg of
disadvantages—they shrink a great deal in thickness, occupy tjnil3er
much space, become rotten by time or damp, and, woist of beams.
all, are combustible. .
These circumstances have led to the use of cast-iron Iron beams,
as horizontal supports. The history of its introduction and
use have been given in our foregoing articles, and at gi catei
length in Mr Fairbairn’s book, The Application of Cast
and Wrought Iron to Building, just published. Itwul be
therefore useless to enumerate the various stages of the
invention. Suffice it to say, that from a simple flat plate of
iron, which was the original form, and which in fact was a
simple imitation of a beam of wrood, a top and bottom flanch
have by degrees been added, which have proved a great addi¬
tion of strength, as well as a saving of metal. M e have be¬
fore explained in this page that the upper part
of a beam, when it is intended to be bent, is in
a state of compression, and the lower half in a
state of tension. We must now add, that be¬
tween these there is a point affected by neither
of these forces, and which is called the neu¬
tral axis. If a parallel beam of the thickness
of EG be widened as at AB, the power to
resist compression becomes greater, and the
same thing happens with regard to tension if
Fig. 24.
Use of
flanges.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
781
The web.
Rules to
calculate.
Strength of the thickness of the flitch EG be increased, as at CD. What
Materials, is called the “ web ” EF is principally of use to keep the
flanches apart, and increase the resistance by increased leve¬
rage. The works of Messrs Hodgkinson and Fairbairn
amply showexamplesof all these, which we should gladly give
in extenso did our space permit; and though these are
valuable for reference in special cases, the practical con¬
structor needs some tolerably simple rule to give him an idea
what size an iron girder ought to be to support a given weight.
A number of formulae have been published, the most elabo¬
rate, and perhaps the nearest the truth, is that of Mr H.
Grissell, the eminent founder, in his evidence before the
House of Lords, in which he takes into consideration the
dimension of the top flange as well as that of the bottom.
But by far the simplest is that of Mr Hodgkinson, adopted
by Mr Fairbairn, viz.:—
,Tr cad
W j~
where W = breaking weight in the middle in tons.
a = the section of the bottom rib or flange.
d=the depth of the beam.
/=the length or distance between the supports (all
these in inches).
c = a constant quantity derived from the result of
various experiments, which varies according
to the quality of iron, and other causes, from 25 to 27'5,
and is generally taken at 26. An example is given of a
bridge girder at Manchester 26 feet or 312 inches in the
clear of the supports. The bottom flange CD is 16 inches
wide and 3 inches deep. The whole depth A to C 27£
inches. Then /=312 a = 48 d=27'5 andc = 26, as above.
Then
26 x 48 x 27‘5
312
= 110 tons, which is the breaking
weight in the middle of the beam. No notice is here taken
of the upper flange, but the omission is justified by the fact
that the constant c has been taken from frequent experi¬
ments on girders having top and bottom flanges of proper
proportions, and that therefore it comes into the account
one way if not in another. In very particular instances,
however, we think it ought to be calculated, as, it is said,
cast-iron has eight times greater power to resist compres¬
sion than tension.
Safe load. Much difference exists among engineers as to the pro¬
portion the permanent safe-load has to breaking weight;
some saying it should be three times as much, others
six, and some, where there is great momentum or impact,
ten times as much. It was confessed, however, in the
former cases the formulae were fuller than ordinary. It
is more common lately to take six times the load as the
size on which to reckon.
Proof. But as there are so many hidden defects in cast-iron,
and when a failure takes place, as it gives no warning,
but all goes to ruin at once, and as there have been such
fearful accidents with this material, every girder should be
Over-proof, proved by placing actual weights on them. But this pre¬
caution may be carried to excess, for instances have been
known where a sound girder has been strained in the proof,
and has afterwards broken with a very small weight. A
good authority has laid it down as a rule, that a girder
should be designed to carry six times the load it is intended
at any time to bear, and should be proved to three times.
By this rule the girder just described should be proved in
the middle to 55 tons, and never have more than 18£ tons
in the centre, or 37 tons if the weight be equally distri¬
buted. It is well also to sound the girder throughout with
a hammer, as they do railway axles.
Compound These are partly of cast trussed with wrought-iron,
girders. but are seldom used except in very large structures. We
fear, after all that has been said in their favour, that, as
temperature changes, the particles of the two materials are
often in a different state of tension, and therefore they are Strength of
very unsafe. We have, however, no space here to enter Materials,
into the argument.
The sudden accidents arising from the failure of cast- VVrought-
iron, and their fearful results, have suggested the useiron Sir<F
of wrought-iron; and as its manufacture is now so much er8‘
cheaper from the great improvements in rolling T and L
iron, and in punching and riveting machines, the wrought-
iron girder is now a very important consideration to the
designer of a building. We shall endeavour to give some
short formulae to guide the practical man, though, as has
been said before, in all important works reference should
be had to the higher branches of science.
There are two sorts of wrought-iron beams now Wrought
employed, generally called either plate-girders or box- girder,
girders. Fig. 25 shows the former, and fig. 26 the latter.
Neither have been in
use long enough, nor
have there been such a
multiplicity of experi¬
ments on them, to afford
such certain formulae as
have been published for
cast-iron beams. But
we give what we gather
to be a near approxi¬
mation of the theories Fig-25. Fig. 26.
just published as far as they go, and venture, under cor¬
rection of such authorities, to suggest they are incom¬
plete as regards the upper flange, just as in the former
theories. Nay, more so, inasmuch as the upper flange
requires to be the strongest in wrought-iron, that ma¬
terial being more easily compressed than rent by tension
(which is just the contrary with cast-iron, where we have
shown the lower flange ought to be of largest area). The
constant c is given as 75. Taking the former formula,
W = —in a case where the length between the supports
is 30 feet (or 360 inches), the depth 22 inches of — metal,
and the bottom flanges 3x3 each, of 1^ inch metal (see
75 x 6 x 22
fig. 25), we have   = 27^ tons as breaking weight.
odO
From Mr Fairbairn’s careful experiments, however, we
should gather that 75 is a fair constant where the top flange
has double the strength of the lower flange.
The formulae collected for these is quite on another prin- Box glrd-
ciple from those of the plate-girder. Instead of regarding ers-
the bottom flange alone, writers base their theories in
the sectional area of the metal of top, bottom, and sides,
Ad C
and given as a formula W = —^—- Here A is the area
of the entire cross-section (fig. 26). Now, as the girders vary
very much in form, some being square in section, some flat,
and some oblong, it follows that the constant C must vary
according to each section; and not only so, but with the
relative strength of the top and bottom flanges. Experi¬
ments have shown where the top has been only half the
strength of the bottom flange, the constant was as low as
under 10, but turning the very same girder bottom upwards,
so that the top flange was then double the strength of tire
lower, a constant of nearly 18, or nearly double, was got
out of the same section. Mr Fairbairn thinks that 21 *5 is
a fair constant to be reckoned for rectangular tubes, when
the upper flange is double the strength of that below. Of
course, these girders, like all others, ought to be proved;
but, as has been before explained, there is always a greater
security about them than those of cast-iron.
The formulae for these are the same as for plate-girders, Trellis
but the constants vary enormously. Experiments show a girders.
782 $ T It
Strickland difference from 44 to 17. It seems, however, to be the
|| opinion of many, that a well constructed trellis girder
Strophe. mav be calculated to bear about half what a close plate-
^ » y ^ girder of the same dimension would carry ; but as these
are little used in building, we shall not go further into the
investigation.
See Barlow, Experiments on Timber, 1835; do., 1837. Booth,
A popular treatise on the Strength of Materials used in Building,
1836. Camus de Mezieres, Traite de la Force da Bois, 1782. Pair-
bairn, Useful Information, <kc., and several other very valuable works
up to 1859. Hodgkinson, the like, also up to 1859. Lea, Strength
of Timber (Tables of), 1850. Morin, Resistance, &c., 1853. Penn,
Tables, &c., 1825. Rennie—Many works, especially the experi-
STRICKLAND, Hugh Edwin, the grandson of Sir
George Strickland, and of the eminent Dr Edmund Cart¬
wright, was born at Righton in the East Riding of York-
shire, on the 2d of March 1811. He studied under Dr
Arnold at Laleham, and subsequently at Oriel College,
Oxford. While at Oxford his taste was directed by the
teaching of Dr Buckland to the study of geology; and on
his retirement to Tewkesbury he studied with great dili¬
gence and success the geology and natural history of the
Cotswold Hills and of the great valley of the Severn. From
numerous papers which appeared from Strickland’s pen in
the Transactions of the Geological Society, it appeared
that he was a very industrious inquirer, an accurate observer,
and a just reasoner on the geological phenomena which
came under his observation. In 1835, he made a geologi¬
cal tour to Asia Minor, and published papers on the various
topics which drew his attention during his travels. He
succeeded Dr Buckland as reader in geology to the Uni¬
versity of Oxford on the failure of that gentleman’s
health. In zoology he was distinguished as an ornitholo¬
gist, and various contributions from Strickland appeared in
the Proceedings of the Zoological Society. He likewise
wrote a book on The Dodo and its Kindred in 1848, in
which he concluded that this extinct bird belonged to the
family of Columbidse. He was one of the original founders
of the Ray Society, and he had just edited the third volume
of Agassiz’s Bibliographia Zoologice et Geolog ice, when he
was killed by a passenger-train on the Gainsborough and
Retford Railway, a portion of the cuttings of which he was
too diligently examining, on the 14th September 1853.
STRIEGAU, a town of the Prussian monarchy, Silesia,
in the government and 27 miles W.S.W of Breslau. It has
a court-house, Protestant and Roman Catholic churches,
an ancient Carmelite convent, a Benedictine nunnery,
hospital, and poor-house. Linen and woollen cloth are
woven here, and some trade is carried on. Pop. 5884.
STROMBOLI (anc. Strongyle), one of the Lipari
Islands, 35 miles off the north coast of Sicily. It is about 9
miles in circuit, and entirely volcanic in its formation, rising
to the height of 2500 feet near the N.W. extremity. There
is a crater 170 yards across, which is continually sending
out smoke and flame, with loud explosions, but no proper
eruption has taken place for a very long time. Wheat,
barley, cotton, wine, raisins, and figs are raised on the island.
There are a small town and a battery on the east side, and
some ancient remains throughout the island. Pop. 1200.
STROMNESS, a seaport and burgh of barony of Scot¬
land, on the island of Mainland, Orkney, 12 miles W.S.W.
of Kirkwall. It is irregularly built, consisting of one main
street extending along the shore, and lined with substantial
stone houses. There are a parish church, Free church,
and United Presbyterian church ; several schools, a public
library, and a museum. Boat and ship-building is carried
on, and there is a small rope-work. The harbour is good,
admitting vessels of all sizes. The trade of the place is
considerable. Pop. 2055.
STROPHE (orpec/m), I turn), in Greek poetry, the first
S T R
meats on Strength of Materials in the Office-Book for Architects, Stroud
&c. Tate On Strength of Materials, 1851. Tredgold, Elementary
Instructions, 1836, and many other works. Turnbull, Strength and Strype.
Stress of Timber, Ware, Dynamics, 1851. Wedeke and Rom- ^
berg, Die baumateriel, &c. We can also refer to the Report of the
Royal Commissioners on Iron, <tc., <kc., 1849; and generally to the
works of Rondelet, Gauthey, Nicholson, Barlow, Tredgold, Hodgkin¬
son, Fairbairn, Gregory, Emerson, Eytelwein ; almost all of which
have before been cited in our pages. There are also many excellent
articles interspersed in the Transactions of the Institution of Civil
Engineers; Royal Institute of British Architects; the various
French Annales ; the Franklin Institute of America, &c.; and in
the Architect and Civil Engineers’ Pocket-book, the Office-Book, and
various works of this description. (a. a.)
division of a choral ode, of which the other parts were the
antistrophe and the epode.
STROUD, or Stroudwater, a market-town and parlia¬
mentary borough of England, Gloucestershire, in a beauti¬
ful valley, at the union of two streams which form the
Stroud Water, 9 miles S. by E. from Gloucester, and 101
W. by N. of London. It is the centre of the woollen
manufacture in the county, and has many dye-houses,
woollen and fulling mills, which stand in deep ravines on
the side of the valley, near streams which flow into the main
river. The houses are irregularly scattered on the hill-sides;
and the valley is also densely filled with them. The town
was formerly very ill built, but has been much improved of
late. The principal buildings are the large parish church,
with nave, chancel, aisles, and spire ; Trinity Church ; and
Baptist, Independent, and Methodist chapels. There are also
National, British, and other schools ; a dispensary, and an
hospital. The Stroud water is believed to be peculiarly
adapted for use in the process of dying scarlet. A con¬
siderable trade is carried on, for which the Great Western
Railway and the Thames and Severn Canal afford important
facilities. Weekly markets and two annual fairs are held.
The borough of Stroud, which includes a large and import¬
ant manufacturing district, is represented in parliament by
two members. Pop. of the pari, borough, 36,535; of the
parish, 8798.
STRUENSEE and BRANDT. See Denmark.
STRUTT, Joseph, an artist and antiquary of consider¬
able merit, was born at Springfield in Essex, October 27,
1742. After spending sometime with Wynne Ryland, he
afterwards became a student in the Royal Academy, and in
1771, while engaged in the reading-room of the British
Museum, he obtained the embellishments for many of the
subsequent works which were then simmering in his brain.
In 1773 appeared his Regal and Ecclesiastical Antiquities
of England, containing the representations of the English
Monarchs from Edward the Confessor to Henry VIII.;
in 1774 his Horda-Angel-Cynnan, a work which he com¬
pleted in 3 volumes in 1776. His Chronicle of England,
2 volumes, appeared in 1777 and 1778. His next work
was A Biographical Dictionary of Engravers in 2 vols.,
1785 and ‘l786. His Complete View of the Dress and
Habits of the People of England was published in 2 vols.
1796-99 ; and his work on The Sports and Pastimes of the
People of England originally appeared in 1811. Strutt,
after all his diligence and plodding industry, died in narrow
circumstances in London, October 16th 1802. His manu¬
scripts, which contained dramas, dramatic tales, &c., were
published by his son after his death. His Queen Hoo Hall,
a romance illustrative of ancient manners, was completed by
Sir Walter Scott in 1808.
STRYPE, John, a meritorious labourer in ecclesiastical
and literary history, was born at Stepney on the 1st of
November 1643. His father, John van Stryp, was a native
of Brabant, and sought refuge in England on account of
his religion. He was a merchant and silk-thrower. The
son received his early education at St Paul’s school, where
S T U
Stuarts, he remained for six years. In 1662 he proceeded to Jesus
The College, Cambridge, from which he was transferred to
Sturt Catherine Hall. In 1665, he there took the degi’ee of A.B.,
Gilbert. anc^ t^lat of A.M. four years afterwards. He was appointed
i to the perpetual curacy of Theydon-Boys, in the county of
Essex, in 1669; but he only retained it for a few months,
having been appointed minister of Low Leyton, in the same
county. When far advanced in life, Strype was presented
by Archbishop Tenison to the sinecure of Tarring in Sussex.
He was also appointed to the lectureship of Hackney, which
he resigned in 1724. At Hackney he resided, in his old
age, under the roof of one Harris, an apothecary, who was
married to his grand-daughter. In this house he died on
the 11th of December 1737, at the patriarchal age of
ninety-four.
Strype’s principal -works are—The Life of Archbishop Cranmer,
1694, fol.; The Life of Sir Thomas Smith, 1698, 8vo; The Life of Dr
John Aylmer, Bishop of London, 1701, 8vo; The Life of Sir John
Cheke, 1705, 8vo; Annals of the Reformation, 4 vols.; vol. i. 1709,
reprinted 1725 ; vol. ii., 1725 ; vol. iii., 1728 ; vol. iv., 1731; The
Life of Archbishop Grindal, 1710, fol.; The Life and Letters of Arch¬
bishop Parker, 1711, fol.; The Life of Archbishop Whitgift, 1718, fol.;
Ecclesiastical Memorials, 1721, 3 vols. fol.
The writings of Strype were for many years neglected,
but they are now held in deserved estimation ; and they
have all been reprinted at the Clarendon press. He is not
remarkable for the methodical arrangement of his materials,
nor did he ever attain to much proficiency in the art of
composition; but no one ever denied him the praise of
diligence and fidelity. Besides these works, he published
Lessons for Youth and Old Age, 1699, 12mo. He likewise
published the second volume of Dr Lightfoot’s Works, in
1684 ; and an elaborate edition of Stow’s Survey of London,
1720, 2 vols. fol.
STUARTS, The. See Scotland and Great Britain.
STUART, Gilbert, an eminent jurist and historian,
was born at Edinburgh in the year 1742. He was educated
in the public school and in the University of his native city.
To the pursuit of jurisprudence he devoted himself with
uncommon ardour; but although he had a strong relish for
the study of law, he anticipated no delight from its practice,
and he was never called to the bar. Of his early progress
in this study he exhibited a very conspicuous specimen in
a work published without his name ; An Historical Disser¬
tation concerning the Antiquity of the English Constitution,
Edinb., 1768, 8vo. Stuart’s Dissertation, distinguished by
so much vigour of intellect and maturity of juridical learn¬
ing, procured him from the university the degree of LL.D.,
which is very rarely bestowed upon so young a scholar. A
second edition, bearing the author’s name, was published at
London in the year l771, and he then prefixed a dedication
to the Earl of Mansfield. The dedication is dated at Lon¬
don in the month of January 1770; and before this period
he had become a regular contributor to the Monthly Review,
with which he continued his connection from 1768 to 1774.
We likewise find him employed as the editor of An Histo¬
rical Treatise on the Feudal Law, and the Constitution
and Laws of England; with a Commentary on Magna
Charta, and necessary Illustrations of many of the English
Statutes ; in a Course of Lectures read in the University
of Dublin, by the late Francis Stoughton Sullivan, LL.D.,
Royal Professor of the Common Laiv in that University,
Lond., 1772, 4to. A pseudonymous work, of a very diffe¬
rent denomination, has been ascribed to Dr Stuart. It
bears the title of Animadversions on Mr Adam's Latin and
English Grammar; being an Exhibition of its Defects,
and an Illustration of the Danger of Introducing it into
Schools. By John Richard Busby, Master of Arts, Edinb.,
1773, 8vo.
Dr Stuart now undertook the management of The Edin¬
burgh Magazine and Review, of which the first number
bears the date of November 1773. Smellie was the printer,
S T U 783
and Stuart was the principal writer. Lord Hailes, Dr Stuart,
Blacklock, Professor Richardson of Glasgow, Professor Gilbert.
Barron of St Andrews, and Smellie, were among the num- v'—
ber of the contributors. The work was certainly clever,
but much too satirical; and it consequently merely out¬
lived the fifth volume, and expired in August 1776. Not¬
withstanding the failure of this project, Dr Stuart had
displayed so much talent in his principal articles, that his
reputation as a man of letters suffered no diminution. He
however felt a very painful mortification at the unsuccess¬
ful result of his labours; and his mind was so badly regu¬
lated that, instead of reflecting on the natural tendency of
his own conduct, he continued to cherish a most bitter and
indiscriminate resentment. He was still in the early vigour
of manhood, and he speedily roused himself to new and
gi'eater exertions. After an interval of less than two years,
he produced what we are disposed to regard as the best of
his works, A View of Society in Europe, in its Progress
from Rudeness to Refinement; or, Inquiries concerning the
History of Laiv, Government, and Manners,” Edinburgh,
1778, 4to. The style of this work, though never languid
or feeble, may, however,. be considered as deficient in
fluency and variety. His periods are, perhaps, too uni¬
formly short. “ This brevity,” he avers, “ is a conspicuous
part of oratory, and is consistent with the greatest elevation
and dignity. Where Cicero himself is most eloquent, and
where the tide of his language is most rapid and powerful,
his sentences are concise; and he avoids with care the
periodic swell, as cold, artificial, and unnatural. And,
indeed, it is to be laid down as a general rule, that where
sentences are uniformly long, as in Milton and in Claren¬
don, there is no eloquence in the composition, and little
connection in the argument.”—Edinburgh Magazine and
Review, vol. v., p. 250.
Being disappointed in his expectations regarding the
professorship of civil law in Edinburgh, he allowed his
embittered spirit to find vent in all his future publications.
This spirit is very easily to be discerned in his next publi¬
cation, Observations concerning the Public Law and the
Constitutional History of Scotland: with occasional Re¬
marks concerning English Antiquity, Edinb., 1779, 8vo.
This publication was speedily followed by The History of
the Establishment of the Reformation of Religion in Scot¬
land, Lond., 1780, 4to. The work is written with his
usual ability, but it cannot be affirmed that such an under¬
taking was peculiarly adapted to his habits of thinking.
He however displays a greater degree of impartiality than
could well have been anticipated. Of this work, his next
publication may be considered as the sequel: The History
of Scotland, from the Establishment of the Reformation
till the death of Queen Mary, Lond., 1782, 2 vols. 4to.
Here the author has made a great, and indeed a splendid
effort, to eclipse the reputation of Robertson, whom he
both envied and hated. As the one historian considered
Mary guilty of some of the foulest crimes laid to her charge,
it was almost an obvious consequence that the other should
represent her as innocent. The preface to the History of
Scotland is dated at London on the 1st of March 1782 ;
and soon after this period he undertook the management of
the English Review in 1783. How long he continued to
conduct the English Review we are not informed. In
1785 he became the editor of The Political Herald and
Review. This work, it is believed, only reached a second
volume. It is too well known that Stuart’s mode of life
had been such as to impair his health and strength. With
a constitution undermined by disease, and a mind soured
by disappointment, he embarked for Leith, and sought a
place of rest under the roof of his father, who having be¬
come emeritus professor in 1775, was then residing at
Musselburgh. The son was labouring under a dropsy,
from which the usual operation afforded him a temporary
784
S T U
S T U
Stuart
Stuhlweis-
eenburg.
relief; but all medical ai<3 was ineffectual, and he descended
to his grave at the premature age ot forty-four. He died
on the 13th of August 1786, and his father survived till the
18th of June 1793.
Gilbert Stuart is thus described by a writer who seems
to have had some personal knowledge of him. He was
about the middle size, and justly proportioned. His coun¬
tenance was modest and expressive, sometimes announcing
sentiments of glowing friendship, of which he is said to have
been truly susceptible; at others, displaying strong indig¬
nation against folly and vice, which he had also shown in
his writings. With all his ardour for study, he yielded to
the love of intemperance, to which, notwithstanding a strong
constitution, he fell an early sacrifice.”
Stuart, Gilbert Charles, sometimes called Ameri¬
can Stuart, was an eminent painter, born of Scottish
parents at Narraganset, Rhode Island, United States, in
1755. He accompanied a travelling artist, named Alex¬
ander, to Scotland, where he resided for some time, but
returned again to America in 1773. Having again pro¬
ceeded to London in 1775, he contrived to support himself
by playing as an organist in a qjiurch in that city. Meet¬
ing with his countryman, Benjamin West, who took him
into his studio as his pupil and assistant, his career hence¬
forward was one of prosperity. His life, however, was
a scene of change and confusion, caused entirely by his
intemperate habits. After painting the portraits of many
distinguished men in London, Dublin, and Paris, he re¬
turned to America, where he exercised his pencil on por¬
traits of Washington, Jefferson, J. Q. Adams, and many
other men of note. He died at Boston July 1828. Stuart
is generally recognised to be one of the greatest portrait-
painters which America has yet produced.
Stuart, James, author of the Antiquities of Athens, and
frequently, on that account, known as Athenian Stuart,
was born in London of poor parents in 1713. He originally
assisted Goupy of the Strand, and in 1742 he set out for
Rome. After remaining in that city for seven years, in¬
dustriously engaged in painting, he had proposals made to
him by Revett and Gavin Hamilton, to start for Greece
on an architectural expedition. Hamilton ultimately de¬
clined accompanying them, and Stuart and Reyett accord¬
ingly set out for Greece in 1751. They remained in that
country till about the end of 1753. On returning to Eng¬
land Stuart found more work than he could accomplish.
He engaged in the literary portion of the Antiquities of
Athens, the first volume of which appeared in 1 /62. The
work, on the whole, was a great success. Stuart, by the
encouragement which he received got sluggish ; and while
he executed various designs for noblemen, societies, &c.,
in Grecian architecture, he allowed the Antiquities to
slumber in his hand until both head and hand were cold.
He died the 2d February 1788. The second volume of
this work was edited after his decease by Newton, and pub¬
lished in 1790, and the third by Beverley in 1794.
STUHLWEISSENBURG, a town of Hungary, capi¬
tal of a county of the same name, on the Csargo, in a
marshy region, near the west border of the morass ot Sarret,
38 miles S.S.W. of Buda, and about 100 S.E. of Vienna.
It is a large and ancient town, with ill paved, ii regular
streets. The principal building is the Cathedral ot St
Mary, formerly the place of coronation and burial for the
kings of Hungary, and containing many ot their tombs.
This building is handsome and richly decorated. There
are here five other churches, an episcopal palace, county
buildings, gymnasium, military academy, and other schools,
hospital and theatre. Woollen and linen cloth, hardware,
and other articles are manufactured here ; and there is an
active trade in wine and fruit. On account ot the scarcity
of good water, several Artesian wells have been bored
here. Pop. (1851) 14,971.
STUKELEY, William, an eminent antiquary, de- Stukeley
scended from an ancient family in Lincolnshire, was born II
at Holbeach in that county, on the 7th of November 1687. sturm-
From the free school of his native town he was removed
to Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, where he was ad¬
mitted on the 7th of November 1703. Having chosen the
medical profession, he took the degree of M.B. in 1709,
and that of M.D. in 1719. He first settled as a practitioner
at Boston ; but in 1717 he removed to London, and was
admitted a fellow of the College of Physicians in 1720.
By the recommendation of Dr Mead, he was chosen a
fellow of the Royal Society. He contributed to the re¬
establishment of the Society of Antiquaries, of which he
officiated as secretary for many years. In 1726 he left the
metropolis, and settled at Grantham in Lincolnshire, where
he soon obtained extensive practice. In 1728 he married
Frances, the daughter of Robert Williamson, Esq. of
Allington, a lady of good family and fortune. Being much
afflicted with gout, he found the exercise of his profession
very laborious, and therefore meditated a retreat into the
church. On the 20th of July 1720, being then in the
thirty-third year of his age, he received ordination from
Archbishop Wake; and in the ensuing October was pre¬
sented by the Lord-chancellor King to the living of All-
Saints in Stamford. He became a widower in 1737, and,
in the course of the following year, married the only
daughter of Dr Gale, the learned dean of York. In 1 /39
the living of Somerby, near Grantham, was bestowed upon
him by the Duke oV Ancaster. In 1747 the Duke of
Montagu presented him to the rectory of St George, Queen
Square, and he then vacated his other benefices. He sur¬
vived till the 3d of March 1765.
Dr Stukeley was a man of varied learning, but was chiefly
distinguished by his knowledge of antiquities. His writings
are numerous, and partly relate to medical as well as theo¬
logical subjects; but we shall confine ourselves to an
enumeration of the most important or curious of his anti¬
quarian publications.
An Account of a Roman Temple near Grahams Dike, 1720, 4to.
Of the Roman Amphitheatre at Dorchester, Lond., 1723, 4to. Itiner-
arium Curiosum; or, an Account of the Antiquities and remarkable
Curiosities in Great Britain, Load., 1724, fol.; Lond., 1776, 2 vols.
fol. Stonehenge ; a Temple restor’d to the British Druids, Lond., 1740,
fol. Abury; A Temple of the British Druids: with some others described,
Lond., 1743, fol. Palceographia Britannica; or, Discourses on Antiqui¬
ties in Britain, Lond., 1743-52, 4to. An Account of Richard of Ciren¬
cester, Lond., 1757, 4to. The Medallic History of Marcus Aurelius
Valerius Carausius, Emperor in Britain, Lond., 1757—9, 2 vols. 4to.
STURM, Jacques Charles Francois, the discoverer
of the algebraic theorem which bears his name, was
born in Geneva in 1803. Originally tutor to the son of
Madame de Stael, he subsequently resolved, in conjunction
with his school-fellow Colladon, to try his fortune in the
French metropolis. Sturm soon made the acquaintance ot
the foremost mathematicians in the capital, and obtained
employment on the Bulletin Universelle. On the discovery
of his important theorem, namely, the determination of the
number of real roots of a numerical equation which are
included between given limits, in 23d May 1829, he rapidly
rose to fortune and public honours. He was chosen a
member of the French Academy in 1836, and was after¬
wards appointed to succeed Poisson in the chair of Physics
at Paris. He presented numerous memoirs to the academy,
of which it has been said that an impartial posterity will
place them by the side of the finest memoirs of Lagrange.
Sturm died on the 18th of December 1855.
Sturm, Johann, better known by the name of Stur-
mius, a learned philologer and rhetorician, was born at
Schleiden, near Cologne, on the 1st of October 1507. He
afterwards pursued his study at Liege, in the College of St
Jerome, and then went to Louvain in 1524. He there
spent five years, three in learning and two in teaching.
S T U
Stuttgart. He set up a printing-press with Rudger Rescius, professor
of Greek, and printed several Greek authors. In 1529
he went to Paris, where he was highly esteemed, and
read public lectures on the Greek and Latin writers, and
on logic. In 1537 he went to Strasburg, and the year
following opened a school, which became famous, and by
his means obtained of Maximilian II. the privileges of a
university in the year 1566. He was very well skilled in
polite literature, wrote Latin with great purity, and was an
able teacher. His talents were not confined to the school;
for he was frequently intrusted with deputations in Germany
and foreign countries, and discharged these employments
with great honour. He showed extreme charity to the
refugees on account of religion: he not only laboured
to assist them by his advice and recommendations, but
he even impoverished himself to aid them. He died on
the 3d of March 1589, in the eighty-second year of his
age. He was a learned writer, and published various works,
which were found to be useful and important by his con¬
temporaries. One of these was an edition of Cicero, in 9
vols. 8vo. He bestowed much labour in elucidating the
rhetorical works of Aristotle, Hermogenes, and Cicero.
With the view of improving the system of education, he
published several treatises, one of which was frequently re¬
printed. It is entitled De Literarum Ludis recte aperi-
endis liber, Argent., 1538, 4to. F. A. Hallbauer edited a
collection of his tracts under the title De Institutione
Scholastica Opuscula omnia, Jen®, 1730, 8vo.
STUTTGART, a town of Germany, capital of the
kingdom of Wiirtemberg, on the Nesenbach, an affluent
of the Neckar, 38 miles E.S.E. of Carlsruhe, and 97 S.E.
of Frankfort. It occupies a very beautiful situation in a
valley closely environed with vine-clad hills, and further off
with woody mountains. The old part of the town lies low,
and has narrow crooked streets and insignificant houses,
mostly built of wood ; but the more modern portion, which
occupies a loftier position, consists of straight, broad, and
regular streets, with large and handsome houses. The
place is almost entirely of modern growth, and owes its
present prosperity in a very great degree to its being the
residence of the court. The principal street occupies the
site of the ancient city moat j it is straight and broad.
Opposite the royal palace is a large public square ; and
there are several others of smaller size in different parts of
the town. The new palace was begun in 1746 and finished
in 1806. It is a large building of freestone, not very fine
externally, but splendidly decorated and furnished in the
interior. The old palace, which stands to the south-west,
is a massive building resembling a feudal castle. It was
completed in 1570, and is now occupied by the govern¬
ment offices. This edifice fronts a square, two sides of
which are formed by another palace, that of Prince
Frederic, the king’s son-in-law. In the square stands a
large bronze statue of Schiller, by Thorwaldsen ; and on
its other side is a fine old Gothic Church of the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries. It has a lofty tower, and contains
a fine organ, many ancient sculptures, and monuments
of many princes of the Wurtemberg family. The hospital
church is also Gothic ; its exterior is clumsy, but the in¬
terior is very fine, and contains the grave of Reuchlin, and
Danneker’s model of his statue of Christ, now at Regens¬
burg. The other churches in the town are modern and of
little merit. The Standehaus, where the estates or parlia¬
ment of the kingdom meet, was built in 1580, but only
adapted to its present purpose in 1819. The town-hall,
v. which stands in the market-place in the older part of the
town, is a building of the fifteenth century. Stuttgart has
also a Museum of Natural History, containing a valuable
collection ; a public library of 200,000 volumes, and about
3220 MSS., including a very large collection of Bibles ;
a royal cabinet of medals, containing about 17,000 sped-
VOL. xx.
STY 785
mens, besides various other antiquities; a museum of the Styles
fine arts, with many fine statues and pictures; a theatre, ||
bazaar, post-office, and other buildings. The educational Styx,
establishments comprise a gymnasium, military academy,
school of art, polytechnic school, and others. There are
numerous hospitals, asylums, alms-houses, and other bene¬
volent institutions. A striking feature in this comparatively
small town is the number of barracks which it contains.
I he infantry barracks is one of the largest buildings of the
kind in Germany ; it can accommodate with ease 3000
men. There are besides cavalry barracks of somewhat less
size. The principal manufactures of the town are the
making of woollen and cotton cloth, gold, silver, and bronze
wares, musical, optical, and philosophical instruments, and
the various branches of industry connected with the book
trade, which is extensively carried on here. There is also
a considerable trade in bark. The town is advantageously
situated for commerce, as by means of the Neckar it com¬
municates with the Rhine, and by railways with the princi¬
pal towns of Germany. In the vicinity of Stuttgart there
are some fine gardens and pleasure-grounds ; among the
rest those of the palace, to which the public are freely ad¬
mitted. The date of the foundation of the town is not
exactly known, and there are no important events connected
with its history. Pop. (1858) 51,655.
STYLES. See Chronology.
S I'YLITES, Simeon, a famous anchoret in the fifth
century, who first took up his abode on a column six cubits
high, then on a second of twelve cubits, a third of twenty-
two, a fourth of thirty-six, and on another of forty cubits,
where he thus passed thirty-seven years of his life. The
tops of these columns were only three feet in diameter,
and were defended by a rail that reached almost to the
girdle, but did not permit the votary to he down. Other
solitaries who practised this sort of stupid devotion were
known by the name of “ Pillar Saints.” The faquirs, or
devout people of the East, imitate this mode of life to the
present day.
STYRIA (Germ. Steyermark), Duchy of, a province of
the Austrian Empire, bounded on the N. by the archduchy
of Austria ; E. by Hungary ; S. by Croatia and Carniola;
S.W. and W. by Carinthia and Salzburg. Its form is very
irregular. Length, from N. to S. 124 miles; greatest
breadth, 112 ; area, 8646 square miles. Pop. (1857), ex¬
clusive of the military, 1,070,747. (See Austria.)
STYX, a waterfall of Greece, descending from a lofty
rock above the town of Nonacris, in the N.E. of Arcadia,
and forming a stream that falls into the Crathis. The de¬
scriptions given by Homer and Hesiod of the water of the
Styx agree with the natural features of this mountain-
torrent ; and Pausanias states that the passage in which
Homer represents Juno as swearing by the Styx seems just
as if the poet had the waterfall before his eye. The water
was supposed by the Greeks to be poisonous, and to destroy
everything that was thrown into it; and there was a report
that Alexander the Great was poisoned by the water of the
Styx. A similar belief has prevailed in the vicinity down
to the present day. In Greek mythology, the Styx was
represented as a river of hell, round which it flows nine
times. The gods held its waters in such veneration, that
to swear by them was reckoned an oath altogether inviol¬
able. If any of the gods had broken this oath, Jupiter
obliged them to drink the waters of the Styx, which lulled
them for a whole year into a senseless stupidity. It is said
that this veneration was shown to the Styx, because it
received its name from the nymph. Styx, who, with her
three daughters, assisted Jupiter in his war against the
Titans. Styx was a river which it was necessary for de¬
parted shades to pass before they could enter the infernal
regions ; and it was the office of Charon to ferry them over.
Mythological writers have said that the Egyptians framed
5 g
786 S U A
Suakia both this and some other fables relating to the dead, from
certain customs peculiar to their country ; that in particu-
Subiaco. iar there was, not far from Memphis, a famous burying-
v—place, to which the dead bodies were conveyed in a boat
across the Lake Acherusia ; and that Charon was a boatman
who had long officiated in that service.
SUAKIN, a seaport of Nubia, on an island close to the
shore of the Red Sea, N. Lat. 19. 7.; E. Long. 37. 20.
Besides the town itself, on the island, there is on the main¬
land the much larger suburb of El Geyf. The houses are
built of blocks of madrepore; and are one or two storeys
in height. The town itself has three mosques, and the
suburb another. The bay forms a good harbour; and the
town is an important trading place between the interior of
Africa and the opposite coast of Arabia. From three to
four thousand slaves are annually shipped from this port to
Arabia. Gold, tobacco, ostrich feathers, ivory, salt, &c.,
are among the articles of commerce. Suakin is much fre¬
quented by pilgrims to Mecca. Pop. 8000.
SUAREZ, Francis, a renowned Jesuit, was born at
Grenada on the 5th of January 1548. He belonged to a
noble family, and was sent to prosecute the study of law
in the University of Salamanca; but when he had finished
his course, he was induced to change his destination, and
assume the habit of St Ignatius. He at first experienced
much difficulty in comprehending the principles of the phi¬
losophy which was then taught; but having been placed
under the guidance of Rodriguez, he soon began to be dis¬
tinguished by the uncommon rapidity of his progress, and
became one of the most distinguished members of the
society. Having taught philosophy at Segovia, he was
afterwards employed in teaching theology at Valladolid,
Rome, Alcala, and Salamanca. Wherever he taught, his
lectures attracted a numerous auditory. He was at length
appointed to the first chair of divinity in the university of
Coimbra; but, before entering upon his office, he went to
Evora and took his doctor’s degree. Here his reputation
continued to increase. At the instigation of the Pope, he
prepared an elaborate work, entitled Defensio Ccitholicce
Fidei contra Anglicance Sectce Err ores, Conimbricse, 1613,
fol. This work gave much offence to King James, and was
burned at St Paul’s by the hands of the hangman. Nor did
it receive better treatment from the parliament of Paris;
who, by an arret pronounced on the 26th of June 1614, con¬
demned it to the flames, as containing maxims contrary to
the rights of sovereigns. It was ably refuted by Robert
Abbot, afterwards bishop of Salisbury. Suarez, having
been called to Lisbon for some weighty conference, died
there on the 25th of September 1617. An instant before
he expired, he said to those who surrounded his bed, “ I
never knew it was so pleasant to die.”
Suarez was a great master of the scholastic philosophy
and theology of his age, nor was he a mean or ordinary pro¬
ficient in jurisprudence. Grotius has described him as the
most acute of philosophers and divines. His treatise De
Legibus et Deo Legislatore, is commended by Sir James
Mackintosh, “ as exhibiting the most accessible and perspic¬
uous abridgment of the theological philosophy in its latest
form.” Of this learned Jesuit, the works are very nume¬
rous. An edition of them in twenty-three vols. fol. began
to be published at Mentz and Lyon in the year 1630. An
edition was published at Venice in the year 1740.
SUBIACO (anc. Sublaqueum), a town of the Papal
states in the Comarca, and 34 miles east ol Rome, on a hill
near the right bank of the Teverone. It stands in the
midst of beautiful scenery; but has itself dark narrow
streets, lined with old and gloomy houses. On the top of
the hill stands an old castle, which was long a summer resi¬
dence of the Pope. Subiaco has also a handsome church,
containing many works of art; and in the vicinity are the re¬
mains of a palace of Nero, and a fine monastery. Pop. 6000.
S U D
SUBPOENA, in Law, a writ by which persons are called Subpoena
into chancery, in cases where the common law has pro- II
vided an ordinary remedy; and the name of it proceeds Sudbury,
from the words therein, which charge the party called to
appear at the day and place affirmed, “ sub poena centum
librarum,” &c.
SUCHET. See France.
SU-CHEW, a city of China, in the province of Kiang-
su, on the Great Canal, near Lake Tai-hou, 55 miles
W.N.W. of Shanghai. Like Venice it is built on islands,
and interpenetrated by canals, which are navigable for large
vessels. It is surrounded by fortifications, 10 miles in cir¬
cuit; and beyond these there are four large suburbs.
Here are numerous fine temples and other buildings;
manufactures of silk, nankeen, and other goods are carried
on, and there is an active trade. Su-chew is not only the
residence of the richest merchants of China, but a flourish¬
ing seat of art and science, taste and beauty, for here are to be
seen the most beautiful women in China; and hence it has re¬
ceived the name of the paradise on earth. Pop. 600,000.
SUCKLING, Sir John, an English poet and dramatist,
was the son of Sir John Suckling, comptroller of the house¬
hold to King Charles I., and was born in the year 1608-9.
He discovered an uncommon aptitude for the acquiring ot
languages, insomuch that he is reported to have spoken
Latin at five years of age, and to have written it at nine.
When he grew up he travelled ; but seems to have affected
nothing more than the character of a courtier and fine
gentleman, which he so far attained that he was allowed to
have the peculiar happiness of making everything he did
become him. In his travels he made a campaign under
the great Gustavus Adolphus; and his loyalty, if not his
valour, appeared in the beginning of our civil wars ; for,
after his return to England, he raised a troop of horse for
the king’s service, entirely at his own charge, and mounted
them so completely and richly that they are said to have
cost him L.12,000. This troop, with Sir John at its head,
behaved so ill in the engagement with the Scots upon the
English borders, in 1639, as to occasion a famous lampoon,
composed by Sir John Mennis, which was set to a brisk
tune, and much sung by the parliamentarians. This dis¬
astrous expedition, and the ridicule that attended it, were
supposed to have hastened his death ; but he survived till
the 7th of May 1641. Some say that he died by his own
hand at Paris, and family tradition confirms the report.
He was a sprightly wit and an easy versifier, but no great
poet. His poems, plays, speeches, tracts, and letters were
collected into an octavo volume in the year 1709; and
another edition, consisting of selections from his writings,
with a life, by Rev. Alfred Suckling, appeared in 1836.
SUDBURY, a market-town and municipal borough of
England, Suffolkshire, on the left bank of the Stour, 16
miles S. of Bury St Edmunds, and 54 N.E. of London.
It is a neat, clean, and generally well-built town, connected
by a bridge across the river, with a suburb, Ballingdon, in
Essex. The principal buildings are the town-hall and corn
exchange, of modern erection, and three parish churches of
older date. The latter are large and handsome, chiefly in
the perpendicular style of architecture. One of them, St
Gregory’s, contains in its chancel the grave of Archbishop
Theobald, who was killed by Wat Tyler’s mob in 1381.
The Dominican friars had a church and priory here, erected
in the thirteenth century; but of these few remains are now
to be seen. There was also here anciently an establish¬
ment of the knights of St John near the bridge, and a
Benedictine cell not far off. Sudbury contains places of
worship for Independents, Baptists, and Quakers; a gram¬
mar school, national, British, and Church of England
schools; a theatre, savings bank, hospital, and poor-house.
Silk is the principal article manufactured. A considerable
trade is carried on; but the navigation of the river is not
SUE
Sue. good, and has been superseded to a large extent by rail-
ways. Weekly markets and annual fairs are held in Sud¬
bury. The borough is governed by a mayor, four aider-
men, and twelve councillors. It formerly returned two
members to Parliament, but was disfranchised for bribery
in 1844. Sudbury was one of the first towns in which
Edward III. settled the Flemish woollen manufactures, in
order to instruct his people in that branch of industry.
This trade has now fallen off here, but has been succeeded
by the manufacture of silk. Sudbury was the birthplace of
the celebrated painter Gainsborough. Pop. 6042.
SUE, Eugene, a popular French novelist, was born at
Paris on the 10th of December 1804. He belonged to a
family of physicians, who had distinguished themselves in
more than one reign of the sovereigns of France. His
father was household physician to Napoleon, and the future
novelist was presented at the font by the Empress Jose¬
phine and her son Eugene Beauharnais. Having received
his name from so illustrious a house, it became his care
afterwards to do what he could to render it immortal. Sue
originally began the family profession, but gave it up in a
short while for the more showy career of a military man.
After pursuing his adventures both by land and sea for a
number of years, he in 1831 returned to Paris, where he
found his father dead, and some L.1600 a year awaiting
him. He began to spend it with great good-will, and took
to writing first as an amusement, and subsequently as a
necessity. His first novels were received with neglect,
such as P/ick et Flock, 1831; Afar-Gull, 1831 ; La Sala-
mandre, 1832; La Coucaratcha, 4 vols., 1832-34; La
Vigie de Koat-Ven, 4vols., 1833. Next followed his con¬
spicuous failure, LyHistoire de la Marine Frangaise, 5 vols.
1835—37, which provoked the waggish jocularity of some of
the naval officers at Toulon, who presented the author with
a silver medal to express “the gratitude of the French
navy to Eugene Sue for the history he has not written.”
Numerous romances followed this historical attempt, in
which vice, as is usual with French novels, triumphed over
virtue. In 1840 M. Sue resolved to try the virtuous novel,
and, as a commercial speculation, it had an amazing suc¬
cess. One of the great literary events of Louis Phillippe’s
reign is described as the publication of Sue’s Mathilde, in
6 vols., 1841. On this followed in close succession, Les
My sieves de Paris, 10 vols., 1842; Le Juif Errant, 10
vols., 1844-5, all which appeared in the pages of La Presse,
Les Debats, and Le Constitutionnel. This literary lion,
for such he had now become, was feasted and praised as
only Frenchmen can praise and feast. This vicious pan-
derer to the lowest feelings and worst passions of the mob
was, to the great mass of the French people, the immortal
delineator of manners, and the most exquisite writer which
had ever appeared. This virtuous author would not hold
his public in suspense, he accordingly gave them LeMorne
au Diable, 2 vols., 1842 ; Martin VEnfant Trouve, 12 vols.,
1847; Les Sept Peekes Capitaux, 16 vols., 1847-49. The
Mysteres du Peuple, 1849-56, was in process of publication
when, in 1857, it was condemned, and suppressed as im¬
moral and seditious by the assize court of Paris. This was
a timely hint to Sue that his services were no longer needed
as the instructor of his age. He afterwards wrote, with a
marked decrease of popularity, his Les Enfans de VAmour,
4 vols., 1850; La Bonne Aventure, 6 vols. 1851; Fer¬
dinand Duplessis, ou Memoirs d’un Mari, 6 vols., 1852.
In 1848, Sue, who was an extreme Socialist, was elected a
representative of the Assemblee Nationale; but on the
election of Napoleon III. he was expelled from the French
territory. He retired to Annecy, where he died on the 3d
of July 1857.
SUE
787
SUETONIUS, C. Tranquillus, a celebrated Roman Suetonius,
historian, who flourished in the reigns of Trajan and Ha-
drian. The facts known about his biography are few, and
are mainly derived from the letters of Pliny, and from one
or two allusions in his own works. He was born about the
year a.d. 70, since he calls himself “adolescens” at the
period of the false Nero’s appearance in Parthia, which was
twenty years after the true Nero’s death, a.d. 68 (Nero,
c. Ivii.), and “ adolescentulus” in the reign of Domitian
(Domit., xii.) His father, C. Suetonius Lenis, was a tri¬
bune of the 13th legion, and probably of equestrian rank
(augusticlavius), and he had been present at the battle of
Bedriacum, in which Otho was defeated by Vitellius (Otho,
x.) In the face of this direct testimony, it is absurd in
Muretus to argue, from a supposed various reading, that
the father of the historian was that famous Suetonius Pau-
linus whose splendid achievements have been recorded by
Tacitus.1 Nor it is possible that Paulinus could have been
his grandfather, since Suetonius would otherwise have un¬
questionably mentioned the fact when he alludes to his
grandfather in the Life of Caligula (c. xix.) Why he
altered the cognomen Lenis into Tranquillus is uncertain ;
perhaps merely from the same sense of euphony which
induced Melancthon to Graecise his own harsh German
patronymic. At one time Suetonius was in the army, and
Pliny, to whose friendship and patronage he owed most of
his advantages, obtained for him the rank of tribune; this
position was, however, unsuited to his studious habits, and
at his own request it was transferred to one of his relatives.2
He also seems to have practised at the bar, for he begs
Pliny to procure him a delay in pleading a cause in conse¬
quence of an ill-omened dream.3 But we should infer from
the term “ scholasticus” which we find applied to him, and
from the fact that Suidas4 only calls him a grammarian,
that his public appearances as an orator were few, although
he may have given private lessons in rhetoric as well as in
grammar. He generally lived in Rome or its environs,
and his circumstances must have been easy, for he requests
Pliny to purchase for him a little estate which had many
attractions.5 The same firm and constant friend obtained
for him the jus trium liberorum, although, as he had no
children, he was not legally entitled to enjoy it: the privi¬
lege was so important, that it was only obtained by the
exercise of strong court influence.6 Suetonius was finally
elevated to the post of magister epistolarum, an office prob¬
ably founded by Hadrian,7 which would be likely to give
him ample opportunities of private intercourse with the
emperor,8 and a free access to the imperial archives. He
lost this office in consequence of an indiscreet familiarity
with the Empress Sabina, and Septicius Clarus, the prae¬
torian praefect, with many others, were involved in his
disgrace. We can account for this conduct when we are
told that Hadrian himself was in the habit of treating his
wife like a common servant, and that she was ultimately
driven to commit suicide. This example was one which
courtiers would not be slow to imitate, but Hadrian resented
it as unauthorized (“ injussu ejus familiarius se egerant).”9
That there was nothing directly culpable in the conduct of
Suetonius is clear, both from the language of Spartianus,
and from the certainty that the moral character of the
empress afforded her husband no pretext for the divorce
which he so ardently desired. This event took place in
the year 119; and although we acquit Suetonius of guilt,
it is clear that his behaviour must have been notoriously
irregular, or it would hardly have reached the ears of Ha¬
drian, who was at that time busily engaged in building the
great wall by which he hoped to protect Britain from the
incursions of the Piets and Scots. From this time forward
1 Tac. Ann. xiv. 29-37, &c.
5 Epp. i. 24.
8 Suet. Aug. 5.
2 Plin. Epp. Hi. 8. 3 Id. i. 18. 4 Suid. s. v.
6 Id. x. 95, 96. 7 Gutherius de Officiis domus, sug. Hi., 6, quoted by Bayle.
8 Spart. Vit. Hadr. xi., and Salmaauis in loc. Aurel. Viet. Hadr.
%
788
SUE
SUE
Suetonius, we lose sight of Suetonius, who probably spent the re-
mainder of his life in the composition of his numerous works,
and the uninterrupted enjoyment of literary pursuits.
It is difficult to estimate the personal character of Sueto¬
nius i except his rudeness to Sabina, we know ol no posi¬
tive facts against him, and Pliny speaks in the highest terms
of his learning and uprightness. “ Suetonium Tranquillum
he writes to the emperor, “ probissimum, honestissimum,
eruditissimum virum, et mores ejus secutus et studia jam-
pridem, domine, in contubernium assumpsi; tantoque magis
diligere csepi, quanto hunc propius inspexi.”1 On the other
hand, it is impossible to acquit him of the grossest and
most detestable prurience in his writings. He gloats over
the distortions of debauchery, and betrays a hideous fami¬
liarity with the arcana of crime. He clearly enjoys the
loathsome details of excesses which exhausted the fertility
of a vicious vocabulary,2 or he would not go out of his way
to record them with such fatal accuracy. There is something
sickening in the manner in which he thinks it necessary to
chronicle with the minutest fidelity the merely personal
excesses of a series of monsters ; and the words “ de quibus
singillatim ab exordio referam”—which preface two chapters
wherein he sees fit to plunge us under the Stygian stream
of iniquity, which even the vilest of emperors thought it
necessary to conceal on an inaccessible rock—are unmatched
for their philosophic indifference.
It is no excuse to say that he is merely recording facts,
and that the record was necessary and desirable for the
warning of mankind.3 When we have paid Suetonius the
very questionable compliment of St Jerome, that he wrote
as freely as the emperors lived, we have said all that can be
said in his apology. But there are some facts so horrible,
that as their commission is an insult to humanity, so the
narrative of them is an unpardonable injury. We hold
with Tacitus, “ Ostendi debent scelera, abscondi flagitia?
It is true that we find in the highest and holiest histories a
record of the most fearful crimes, but the manner of the
record makes all the difference. In Tacitus, nay, even in
the Holy Scriptures, we find proofs sufficiently deadly of
human depravity; but they are narrated only with horror and
reluctance. Quintilian’s dictum, that “ historia scribitur ad
narrandum non ad probandum,” though it has been taken
as the motto of an historical school, may serve to excuse the
cold and naked analysis of Suetonius, but could never be
adopted by men whose powers of moral indignation have
been unweakened by familiarity with vice. It is unjust to
compare Suetonius and Tacitus in their account of the same
disgraceful enormities. Tacitus alludes to them, indeed, but
only in such a way as would make the blush of honest shame
burn on every cheek ; Suetonius lingers over them with a
gloating curiosity, which makes him share their guiltiness.
Tacitus writes to visit the offenders with the vengeance ot
posthumous execration ; Suetonius perseveringly degrades
himself into an incentive of jaded sensuality. 01 him, as of
writers like Spartianus4 andLampridius, we are forced to say,
“parum abest a docente qui talia narrate and we agree
with Muretus, that the biography of the emperors is a
course of reading “ ruinous to youths, and dangerous even
to men of full years.”5
As an historian, Suetonius ranks very low. “ He was a
man of great learning, and did not write badly; but he had
no survey of his subject, nor any historical talent. His de¬
scription of the time in which he himself lived is even worse
than those of previous periods, in which he had the works
of others which he could follow ; and this circumstance is
the best evidence that he had no vocation to write history. Sueur, Le
His history is written in the form of biographies, and this !l
idea is quite right; but he had no plan: he wanders about ^ Suevx. ^
from one subject to another, in consequence of which his
biographies are without any definite character.”6 For
chronology he is nearly worthless, and he was incompetent
to form any distinct or profound conception of those whose
lives he wrote. He heaps together a loose and incoherent
heap of separate details, from which we must judge for our¬
selves. No doubt he was accurate, impartial, and laborious,
and was in no hurry to publish his writings7 until he had
carefully elaborated them ; but he must be regarded, not as
an historian, but as an “ anecdotier,” a very good name ap¬
plied to him by Laharpe. In spite of the pains which he
took to collect information from every possible source—
tradition, conversations, documents, memoirs, inscriptions—
we should find ourselves very much at a loss for anything
like history, if we had nothing to guide us but his scanda¬
lous gossip. Linguet, in the Revolutions Romaines, went
so far as to say, that no fact need be believed if Suetonius
was the only authority for it; but Krause8 and others have
sufficiently defended him from the charge of wilfully per¬
verting truth, although he occasionally admits an incredible
calumny.
Suetonius is valuable as the commentator and supple¬
ment of Tacitus. It is doubtful whether the Vitce C(B-
sarum or the Annales were written first, but Niebuhr
thinks it certain that the work of Suetonius was published
early in his life, and that it would not have been so unsatis¬
factory as it often is, if he had been able to avail himself ot
the guidance of Tacitus.
Napoleon9 once remarked, that Tacitus did not explain
how it was that the emperors, monsters as they were, con¬
tinued the idols of the people. This enigma is solved by
Suetonius, who ruthlessly pulls up the curtain which hides
the dark interior into which Tacitus would not condescend
to intrude. The people, as Montesquieu has observed, did
not hate those in whom they saw a magnified reflection of
their own baseness, and at whose hands they received the
spoils of wealthy families and fertile provinces. In supply¬
ing us with the facts that were requisite for a complete
understanding of a deeply interesting, though a deeply
degraded period, Suetonius has rendered a service which
almost makes us forget his slugglish sensibilities, in admira-
ation for the interest of his communications, and the graphic
simplicity of his style.
Suetonius was a voluminous writer. Besides the Vita
XII. Ccesarum, and the treatises, De Illustribus Gram-
maticis, and De Claris Rhetoribus, the extant lives of
Terence, Horace, Lucan, Juvenal, Persius, and Pliny the
Elder, pass under his name; and Suidas attributes to him
a long list of other works of which only small fragments
exist, and the names of which are hardly worth recording.
He was long a favourite author, and the editions of his
works are very numerous ; before the year 1500 there were
no less than fifteen editions, of which the oldest with a date
is, Romse, 1470. Others are—Casaubon, Paris, 1610;
Schild., 1647; Burmaum, 1736; and Baumgarten-Krusius,
ed. Nase., Paris, 1828. There is an expurgated French
translation by Duteil., 1699; and English translations by
Philemon Holland, 1606; and S. Thomson, 1796. (f. w. f.)
SUEUR, Le. See Painting.
SUEVI, the name given by the Romans to a large sec¬
tion of the people of ancient Germany. The meaning of
the name is unknown; and it cannot be determined, with
i Ep. x. 95. 2 rac Ann' i. 3 This is the defence urged by Erasmus, Epiit. dedic. ad opp. Sueton., &c.
4 Tillemont, Hist, des Emp. II., 488. ....
6 On this subject see some passages quoted in Bayle; Muretus, Tillemont, and others, censure Suetonius, while Politian, Erasmus,
Mothe-le-Vayer, &c., defend him. 6 Niebuhr’s Eect., iii. 170, 211. 7 Phn. 2?j>. xi. 5.
8 De Suetonii auctoritate, 1841. 9 Charpentier, des Ecnvains Latins, p. 376.
SUE
Suez, any approach to certainty, whether it is of Teutonic, Celtic,
or Slavonian origin. A similar obscurity hangs over the
people themselves. According to the accounts of Caesar,
they dwelt on the east bank of the Rhine, about the mo¬
dern Baden ; but Tacitus places them further to the north¬
east ; and Strabo asserts, that in his time they occupied the
country between the Rhine and the Elbe, and even stretched
beyond the latter river. The name was probably a general
one, including many distinct tribes, such as the Semnones,
Longobardi, Chatti, &c.; and as Germany became better
known to the Romans, the general appellation was dropped,
and the several tribes designated by their particular names,
lowards the end of the third century we find the name
again restricted to the district to which Caesar applied it;
and from this use of the term has come the modern Swa¬
bia, Swabians, &c.
SUEZ, a seaport-town of Egypt, situated at the head of
the Gulf of Suez, the western and longer of the two arms
in which the Red Sea terminates,—76 miles E. of Cairo,
in Lat. 29. 57. 30. N., Long. 32. 31. 30. E. It is a small
town, having a stationary population of only about 1600,
but is of importance as being one of the stations on the
overland line of route to India. The streets are unpaved,
and houses are in general poorly built. The only respect¬
able building in the place is a large and handsome hotel
recently erected by the Pasha. The town is protected on
three sides by a wall mounting a few cannon. It has a
good quay, but only boats of not more than 60 tons can
come up to the town, larger vessels having to anchor in the
roadstead about two miles off. The country around Suez
is a perfect desert, no fresh water nor any kind of verdure
being to be seen, and hence water and all kinds of pro¬
visions have to be brought to it from a great distance.
Suez, Gulf of. See Red Sea.
Suez, Isthmus of, a neck of land connecting the two
continents of Asia and Africa, and separating the Red Sea
from the Mediterranean. Its breadth between the two seas
is 90 miles, from the Gulf of Pelusium to that of Suez.
The connection of the Mediterranean with the Red Sea
by means of a canal has long been a very desirable object,
and even as early as the time of the Pharoahs, several
centuries before the Christian era, such a canal was con¬
structed, extending from the Nile near Belbeis to the Gulf
of Suez. (See Egypt.) In recent times Napoleon pro¬
jected a canal across the isthmus, and predicted that the
execution of this great work would promote the prosperity
and ensure the safety of the Turkish empire. Since the
overland route was established, the importance of such a
work has been deeply felt, and in 1852 M. F. de Lesseps,
a French engineer, conceived the idea of forming a joint-
stock company for cutting a ship-canal across the isthmus.
In 1854 he received a firman from Mohammed Said, the
viceroy of Egypt, conferring upon him the exclusive
privilege of forming a company for that purpose. He then
proceeded to Constantinople to obtain the adhesion of the
Porte, and at first it is said that the Sultan was favourable
to the scheme, but he deferred giving his sanction to it at
the instance, it is said, of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, the
British ambassador, who wished to communicate with his
government. In the summer of 1855 M. de Lesseps came
to England for the purpose of giving information on the
subject of his scheme. The same year a commission of
eminent engineers of various countries was appointed to
make an examination of the proposed route. The report
drawn up by them was to the effect “that the direct canal
between Pelusium and Suez was the only solution of the
problem, and that there existed no other practical method
of joining the Red Sea with the Mediterranean ; that the
execution of this maritime canal was easy, and its success
certain ; and that the two harbours required to be con¬
structed, as Suez and Pelusium presented no difficulties but
SUE 789
such as were of an ordinary character.” A few days after Suez,
the reports of the commission, on 5th January 1856, the
charter of concession was granted by the Viceroy of Egypt.
According to it the works to be executed are—1. A canal
navigable by large vessels between Suez and Pelusium;
2. A canal of irrigation adapted to the river traffic of the
Nile, and connecting that river with the Suez Canal. 3.
Two branches for irrigation and supply, striking out of the
preceding canal in the directions respectively of Suez and
Pelusium. These works to be completed within six years,
and four-fifths of the workmen employed to be Egyptians;
Lake Temsah to be converted into an inland harbour fit
for vessels of the highest tonnage ; a harbour of refuge
to be constructed at the entrance of the maritime canal
into the Gulf of Pelusium ; and the necessary improvements
to be made in the port and roadstead of Suez. The
Egyptian government to have a claim of 15 per cent, on
the net profits of each year. It is farther provided that
the canal shall always remain open as a neutral passage to
every merchant-ship; that the maximum toll for passage
shall be 10 francs per ton on ships and per head on passen¬
gers ; and that the provisions of this charter shall be in
force for ninety-nine years after the opening of the canal.
The isthmus from Pelusium to Suez forms a longitudinal
depression. It is believed that at one time the two seas
were united, and even now a considerable portion of the
soil is below the level of the two seas. There are three
of these depressions or basins,—the Bitter Lakes, Lake
Temsah, and Lake Menzaleh. The basin of the Bitter
Lakes extends over an area of 81,612 acres, and is alto¬
gether dry. Lake Temsah is midway between the two seas,
forming, as it were, the centre of the isthmus. It covers
about 5000 acres, and it is said that at very little cost it
might be made into a large and safe inland harbour. On
the north-west mouth of the isthmus, and separated from
the Mediterranean by a narrow strip of land which the
waves overleap in rough weather, is Lake Menzaleh, which
communicates with the Mediterranean. The rest of the
isthmus has an elevation of from 5 to 8 feet above
the level of the two seas, with the exception of two in¬
considerable ridges, the Serapeum and El Guisr,—the
former having a medium height of 30, the latter of 45
feet. The cutting in the latter of these will extend over
about 5 miles. In November 1858 the subscription was
opened, and by the end of the month the entire capital of
L.8,000,000 was subscribed for; and the company was
definitely constituted on the 5th of January 1859. The
Ship Canal is to be 90 miles in length, 330 feet wide at
the water-line, and its bottom 20 feet below low water-
level in the Mediterranean. The present port of Suez is
to be improved and deepened, and a harbour is to be
formed in the Gulf of Pelusium. Lake Temsah is to be
formed into an inland harbour, communicating with the
Nile by means of a canal 80 feet wide on the water-line,
and about 22 feet deep.
We have here followed principally the account of M. de
Lesseps, but it is evident that, in such an undertaking,
there are difficulties to contend with that do not seem to
have been sufficiently taken into account. The works
employing many thousands of men are to be carried on in
a sandy desert many miles from a spot where a drop of
water or a morsel of food can be obtained ; while the canal,
when completed, will always be in danger of being injured
by drifting sand. From the nature of the Gulf of Pelu¬
sium, a harbour can only be formed here by means of piers
carried out for several miles, while the immense quantity
of sand and mud carried down by the Nile, constantly drift¬
ing about on this coast, will render it liable to be blocked
up by the formation of bars.
A railway has been constructed from Alexandria to Cairo,
and a portion of the continuation to Suez is now open.
790 SUE
Sufeid SUFEID KOH, or the White Mountain, a range in
Koh Afghanistan, running from E. to W., parallel to the Hindoo
II Koosh, to the south of the Valley of the Cabool, about
Suffolk, 23. 50.; E. Lon. from 69. 30. to 71. 16. It is
chiefly of primary formation, and consists of three parallel
chains, the two lower of which are covered with pine-forests;
while the highest is rocky and precipitous, rising above the
line of perpetual snow. The culminating point of the
range is 14,100 feet above the sea.
SUFFOLK, a maritime and agricultural county, in the
eastern district of England, is bounded on the N. by
Norfolk, W. by Cambridgeshire, S. by Essex, and E. by the
German Ocean. Its length in a direct line from east to west
is 56 miles, its breadth from north to south 32. It has
nearly 50 miles of sea-coast on the eastern side. The
area is 1481 square miles. It contains 947,681 statute
acres, and 499 parishes. It is in the sees of Norwich and
Ely, and in the Norfolk circuit.
Suffolk presents a gently undulating and diversified sur¬
face, but there is not an eminence worthy of particular
mention in the county, and, excepting the Fens in the
Mildenhall district, is not low. The woods are of small
extent, and are not generally of luxuriant quality. The
streams are numerous, though by no means large. The
principal rivers are the Orwell, Gipping, Deben, Yare,
Aide, Blyth, and Lark. There are also the Waveney,
Little Ouse, and Stour; but these are border rivers, the
two former separating the county from Norfolk, and the
latter dividing it from Essex. There are a great number of
fine springs and rivulets intersecting almost every part of
the county. The turnpike roads in every part of the
county are excellent, and so are most of the cross-roads.
The Eastern Counties, the Eastern Union, and the East
Suffolk Railways, run the entire length of the county. In
the summer season sea-bathing attracts a considerable
number of visitors to the shore at Lowestoft, Southwold,
Aldeburgh, and Felixstowe, where every accommodation
for such visitors is provided. The soil is so exceedingly
variable, that it is difficult to define the localities of each.
The heavy land district constitutes what is known as central
Suffolk. The eastern Sands, extending from the mouth of
the Deben to Yarmouth, is very light, and much of the
district, from Bey ton to Mildenhall, and from Newmarket
to Brandon, consists of a blowing sand on a light chalky
clay. The Fen district occupies the extreme north-west
corner of the county, and is of very small extent. The
cjuantity of pasture-land is much reduced. Formerly Suf¬
folk sent large quantities of butter to the London mar¬
ket, now both butter and cheese are imported to supply
the demand and consumption in the county itself. The
rotation and manner of cultivation in the heavy land dis¬
trict is—first year, fallow, tares, beet, or turnips; second
year, barley ; third year, half clover, half peas, or beans
alternately; fourth year, wheat. There is much variation
in the course of cropping among the small farmers, but on
the best cultivated farms this may be taken as the general
course. On the light land a different course of manage¬
ment is adopted, but it is generally farmed on the four-
course system. Thorough draining is much practised in
the county. Beet-root has in some measure superseded
the growth of carrots. Sainfoin and trefoil are cultivated in
the sand district between Thetford and Newmarket. Flax
has attracted much attention, but has made but little pro¬
gress. Lucerne is grown on a small scale, and chicory has
also been introduced. A few hops are cultivated, but only
in two or three places in the county.
Suffolk takes a high rank as an agricultural county, but
of late years a much smaller proportion of its population
than formerly has been dependent upon agriculture for
their subsistence. At the census in 1851, the returns
relating to occupations refer to individuals, whilst those for
SUE
1811, 1821, and 1831 refer to families. It is not easy, Suffolk,
therefore, to exhibit the proportion which the agricultural,
commercial, and miscellaneous bore to each other at each
of the decennial periods; but a gradual increase in the num¬
ber of persons employed in trades, manufactures, and
handicraft, has been going on in this county during the
last quarter of a century. In 1851 the returns relating to
those employed in agriculture and connected with land
were—land proprietors, 423 ; farmers, 5637; farm bailiffs,
581; farm-servants (indoor), 645; agricultural labourers
(outdoor), 42,783.
The draught-horses peculiar to the county are known by
the name of Suffolk punches. They are excellent workers,
are in great demand, and sell at high prices. Suffolk cows
are generally considered to fill the pail better than any
other kind. On the light soils extensive breeding flocks
of sheep are kept, generally Down ewes, a little cross with
the Norfolk to increase their size. There are but few
Leicester flocks, and fewer still of pure Norfolk.
The net rental of landed property in Suffolk is estimated
at L.912,062. The property is much divided, and there
are no estates so large as to create a decided political pre¬
ponderance ; and it is said that there is in Suffolk a larger
number of proprietors occupying their own lands than in
any other county. On the heavy lands, farms seldom
exceed 300 acres in extent, and are generally much smaller.
On the light lands they vary from 300 to 1500. There
are but few large farms, though there are many large
farmers, men holding several farms, but more than half
the farms in Suffolk range between 50 and 300 acres.
The following peers derive their titles from places in
this county:—Earls of Suffolk, Orford, Euston, and Strad-
broke, Viscount Brome, and Barons Rendlesham and Wor-
lingham. The Dukes of Norfolk, Grafton, and Hamilton
and Brandon ; the Marquises of Hertford and Bristol;
Lords Thurlow, Calthorpe, Huntingfield, and Henniker,
also have seats in the county.
There are but few manufactures in the county; for
although the cloth trade, introduced by the Flemings, at
one time flourished, and nearly every labourer’s wife was
engaged at her spinning-wheel, the occupation has now
entirely died out. Agricultural implements are perhaps
more extensively manufactured in this than in any other
county in England. Stays are made on a large scale at
Ipswich. Silk winding and straw-plaiting give employ¬
ment to large numbers at Sudbury, Lavenham and Had-
leigh. A few are employed in the manufacture of lace,
and a smaller number in the preparation of flax. Along the
coast there is a great number of fishermen, and at Lowes¬
toft many vessels are equipped. The herring fishery is an
important one to that district. The fish are dried in houses
erected on purpose in the town. At an earlier period of the
year the same persons are engaged in the mackerel fishing,
and the fish are transmitted by rail to the London market.
The population of this county at the six decennial periods
of enumeration was found to amount in 1801 to 214,404;
in 1811 to 233,963; in 1821 to 271,541; in 1831 to
296,317; in 1841 to 315,073; and in 1851 to 337,215.
At the census in 1851 the males numbered 166,308, and
the females, 170,907.
The number of inhabited houses in 1851 was 69,282;
the uninhabited were 3107; and those building, 449. The
annual value of the real property of the county, as assessed
for the purposes of the property-tax in the year 1813, was
L.1,127,404; in 1851, it was L.1,834,252. The annual
value of real property rated to the poor was, in 1850,
L.1,366,648.
The towns of this county containing more than 2000 in¬
habitants, with their population in 1851, were the follow¬
ing :—Ipswich, 32,914 ; Bury St Edmunds, 13,900; Lowes¬
toft, 6781; Sudbury, 6043; Woodbridge, 5161; Beccles,
S U F
Suffolk. 4398; Mildenhall, 4374; Bungay, 3841 ; Stowmarket,
3306; Hadleigh, 3716; Haleswortb, 2662; Long Melford,
2587; Eye, 2587; Framlingham, 2450; Southwold, 2109;
Gorleston, a suburb to Yarmouth in Norfolk, and, by the
Reform Bill, a part of that borough, 3999.
On looking at returns as to the social condition of the
people in Suffolk, some curious facts present themselves
for notice. Only 40 per cent, of the population are at¬
tendant upon the services of the Church of England; but
86 per cent, of the marriages in the county are celebrated
according to the rites of the Establishment. The births
are 1 in 32 of the population, and 8 per cent, of the births
are classed as illegitimate. The deaths are 1 in 51 of the
population, the proportion in all England being 1 in 46,
and in Norfolk l in 48. The criminal returns exhibit a
great increase of crime during the century. In 1801 the
criminals were 51 in each 100,000 of the population, and
in 1821 they were 93, in 1841, 157; and in 1851 the
/ proportion was 168. The population increased 56 per
cent.; crime more than 300 per cent, in the half-century.
Pauperism is the plague spot of the county. In 1851, of
every 10,000 persons 153 were paupers; whilst in Great
Britain only 65 in every 10,000 were so classed. One out
of every 12 persons in this county is a pauper, and the
average cost of relief during the five years ending 1852
was L.142,688 per annum. The educational returns of
this agricultural district are almost as discouraging. In
1851 there were 143 parishes, nearly one-third of the
entire number of parishes in the county, in which, if there
was a school, it was only a dame’s school; 90 of these were
entirely without a school. In the hundreds of Hoxne and
Resbridge only 8 per cent, of the males attended school;
and in a large number of the schools throughout the
county the average time of a child’s attendance is less than
2 years. Out of 1219 indoor paupers in Suffolk 10 only
could read and write well; nearly 80 per cent, of the felons
are without education, and 46 per cent, of the men and 52
per cent, of the women who are married are unable to sign
their names to the marriage registers. In 1851 there were
20 literary and mechanics’ institutes, having 2689 males and
119 females as members. The libraries contained 33,296
volumes. The attendance upon religious worship at the same
period was found to range from 58 per cent, in the Hun¬
dred of Resbridge to 27 per cent, in the Hundred of Mut-
ford. There were 895 places of worship, with 239,403
sittings.
Amongst the antiquities of the county, the foremost place
must be given to the Roman castle at Burgh, the walls of
which are still standing. There are several churches in
Suffolk, portions of which lay claim to Saxon antiquity, as
the Tower of Flixton, near Bungay. Norman architecture
is of very frequent occurrence in the churches of the
county. Several of these also display magnificent wooden
roofs which exhibit a combination of boldness, picturesque
effect, and geometrical skill. Of ancient monastic build¬
ings, in which Suffolk was once so prolific, the remains are
but few. The gateways of Bury Abbey attest the gran¬
deur of this wealthy establishment, and at Butley, Sibton,
Herringfleet, Bungay, and Leiston are more or less pictu¬
resque remains of former monastic splendour. Of castel¬
lated architecture, Orford, with its polygonal keep 90 feet
in height; Framlingham, a mere shell of a proud fortress;
Bungay Castle, with its massive ruins, as well as those of
Wingfield and Mettingham, recall the stern magnificence
of feudal times. Suffolk is especially rich in examples of
domestic architecture. Helmingham, Hengrave, Melford,
Kentwell, Parham, Flixton, Wenham, and Roos Halls are
fine monuments of the taste, splendour, and hospitality of
our wealthy ancestors.
The civil government of the county is peculiar. There
are four sessional divisions in the county, named after their
S U G 791
respective chief towns, Beccles, Woodbridge, Ipswich, and Sugar.
Bury. Each of these divisions has from time out of mind
been considered a county by itself. Beccles has its own
sessions, levies its own rate, repairs its own bridges, and
pays the whole of its own charges; and Bury, Ipswich, and
Woodbridge divisions do the same. Three boroughs, Bury
St Edmunds, Ipswich, and Sudbury, have separate com¬
missions of the peace and courts of quarter sessions.
There are county gaols at Ipswich and Bury St Edmunds,
a county-house of correction at Beccles, and borough
prisons at Ipswich and Sudbury. The county is divided
into twenty-one hundreds, besides the liberty of the
borough of Ipswich, and is also sub-divided into the Geld-
able portion and the liberties of St Etheldred, St Edmund,
and Duke of Norfolk. The liberty of St Edmund formerly
returned a grand jury at the assizes distinct from that
returned for the rest of the county; that privilege was abo¬
lished in 1837, and the assizes have since that period been
held in the spring at Bury St Edmunds, and in the summer
at Ipswich.
Suffolk returned sixteen members to Parliament prior to
the passing of the Reform Bill, but Aldborough and Dun-
wich were disfranchised by that Act, and Eye reduced to
one member. Sudbury has since been deprived of its pri¬
vilege, on the ground of corruption. The county is divid¬
ed, for electoral purposes, into two divisions, the eastern
and the western. Each division returns two members.
The polling places for the eastern division of the county
are—Ipswich, Needham, Woodbridge, Framlingham, Sax-
mundham, Halesworth, Beccles, and Lowestoft. For the
western division the places for polling are—Bury St
Edmunds, Lavenham, Stowmarket, Wickham Brook, Mil¬
denhall, and Hadleigh. Two members are also returned
for each of the boroughs of Ipswich and Bury St Edmunds.
SUGAR. Referring to Chemistry (vi., 515-17) for
the composition and chemical relations of sugar, we propose
in the present article to give a brief technological view of
the subject. Sugar, in one or other of its varieties, is widely
diffused, and imparts sweetness to the juices of many vege¬
tables. The practice of sweetening food is older than the
knowledge of sugar. The ancients used honey for the
purpose; and when the sweet produce of the cane became
known it was called mel arundinaceum. In the first cen¬
tury, Dioscorides refers to the canes of India and of Arabia
Felix as producing honey, and applies to it the term aaKxapov,
or sugar, which Pliny refers to as being used only in medi¬
cine. Sugar was not known in northern Europe, at least
as an article of food, until the time of the crusades. The
sugar-cane was introduced into Cyprus from Asia, and was
noticed in a.d. 1148 as being extensively cultivated in that
island. It was transplanted from Cyprus to Madeira, and
thence, in 1506, to the West Indies. The sugar-cane is
said to have been also cultivated on the coasts of Andalusia
before the invasion of the Arabs, who seem to have intro¬
duced the method of boiling down the juice for the pro¬
duction of sugar. The refining of raw sugar is of later date,
and is referred to Venice. The refining of sugar was com¬
menced in England about 1544; but loaves of sugar are
spoken of as being sold in Scotland so early as 1329. There
was a refinery in Dresden in 1597. Sugar-candy is noticed
in the Alchemia of Libavius in 1595, and this is probably
the form in which sugar was known to the ancients. The
general introduction of tea and coffee caused a great de¬
mand for sugar, before which, and so late as the end of the
seventeenth century, syrup and honey w'ere in use among
the poorer classes of Germany. In 1747, Maro-raaf dis¬
covered cane-sugar in the roots of many plants, especially
in beet-root; but no attempt was made to manufacture that
variety of sugar on an extensive scale until the time of
Napoleon, who, in attempting to ruin the colonial trade of
Great Britain, excluded our merchant-ships from the conti-
792 S U G
Sugar, nent, and, to supply the demand for supar, offered premiums
for its manufacture from beet-root. Much skill and inge¬
nuity were exercised in the manufacture, which is still
extensively carried on in countries where the richer juice of
the cane is excluded from competition by heavy imposts.
The sugar-cane (Saccharum officinarum) is a perennial
plant, belonging to the family of the grasses. It varies in
height from 6 to 15 feet, and upwards, and in diameter
from H to 2 inches. Its stalk is knotty, with a leaf and
an inner joint at each knot. The roots are slender, and
nearly cylindrical, about a foot in length, furnished with a
few short fibres.1 The joints of the stalk or cane may vary
in number from 40 to 60, and in the Brazilian cane they
are as many as 80. The Otaheite cane has fewer joints,
and they are further apart. Every joint contains a bud,
which encloses the germ of a new cane. “ The joints of
the cane,” as Mr Porter remarks in his work on the sugar¬
cane, (1843), “ may be considered as concentric circles, the
centre of which is always occupied by a point, which, ex¬
panding into a circle itself, is replaced by a new point,—
circles which, rising successively one upon the other, en¬
large and arrive in a given time at their greatest diameter.”
The first joint requires 4 or 5 months for its complete
growth, during which 15 or 20 joints spring from it in suc¬
cession, the decay of the leaf indicating the maturity of
each joint; and when the leaves of the first two or three
joints have withered, there are 12 or 15 leaves at the top,
arranged like a fan. The last joint is called the arrow; it
is 4 or 5 feet in length, and is terminated by a panicle of
sterile flowers. The period of flowering is usually delayed
by cultivation, new joints being formed instead. The
sugar-cane requires a moist, nutritive soil, and a tropical or
sub-tropical climate. It is propagated by slips or pieces of
the stem with buds on them, and it requires from 12 to 16
months to arrive at maturity. The leaves fall oft' before
flowering, and the stem becomes of a straw-yellow colour.
The plantation should be managed so that the canes may
ripen in succession. The land, unless naturally rich, re¬
quires abundance of manure, but saline matter should be
avoided, since common salt, chloride of potassium, and
muriate of ammonia, form non-crystallisable compounds
with the sugar. One equivalent of common salt, for ex¬
ample, = 60, will combine with two equivalents of sugar
= 342, and thus cause a loss of sugar 6£ times greater
than the weight of the salt in the compound. Beet-root
sugar factories situate near the sea-shore have experienced
great losses from this cause, which also operates to some
extent on the windward coast of Barbadoes. After the
cane harvest, the roots strike again and produce a fresh
crop, but in about six years they must be removed : this
period, however, is subject to variation in different places.
The canes should be cut in dry weather: they should
have a smooth, brittle skin, considerable weight, greyish
pith, and a sweet, glutinous juice. The developed buds
which form the secondary stole of the plant that has
been cut are named rattoons, and they are first, second, or
third, &c., according to the age of the parent root. They
diminish every year in thickness and length of joint,
and are said to yield a richer juice and to produce finer
sugar than the original plant. The canes should be cut
close to the stole, for this gives vigour to the rattoons, and,
moreover, the lowest joint contains the richest juice. The
cane-top, with one or two joints of the cane, must be cut
off and rejected, as the juice of those parts is watery. The
canes are tied up in bundles and sent to the crushing-
mill, the amount of work done by this regulating the quan¬
tity of canes to be cut; for if the cut canes are kept many
A R.
hours, they will ferment and spoil. The cane-mill usually Sugar,
consists of three massive cast-iron rollers, about 24
inches in external diameter, with projecting rims to pre¬
vent the canes from spreading over the sides, arranged hori¬
zontally, two below and one above and between : they are
worked by means of toothed wheels attached to the axles.
The canes are passed down an inclined plane between the
first lower and the top roller, and, being crushed between
them, are guided by plates between the top roller and the
second lower roller, where the crushing is completed. The
juice passes into a channel below, and thence to a reservoir.
The first pair of rollers crushes the cane, and the second
pair expresses the juice, and turns the crushed cane down
a trough out of the mill. The first lower roller is usually
grooved. In order to obtain the largest proportion of juice,
the rollers must be set very close together, and revolve
slowly under steam-power. It is stated that when the
power was wind, only from 50 to 56 per cent, of the juice
was obtained ; animal-power gave 58-5 ; water-power, 61 ’8 ;
and steam, 70 per cent. In general, however, the average
of steam is not superior to that of water. From 12 to 14
tons of good ripe cane produce about 1500 gallons of juice,
which are required for making one hogshead of sugar. The
crushed cane known as cane-straw, hegasse, or cane-trash, is
used as fuel in evaporating the juice ; it contains at least 18
per cent, of cane-juice. The opinion has been repeatedly
expressed that the cane-trash should be returned to the
land as manure, and, if spread over the spaces between the
cane-roots, it would also serve to mitigate the effects of
severe drought. Coals can be sent to the colonies from
Great Britain at a cheap rate to supply the demand for fuel.
The juice of the cane is a solution of sugar in water,
with traces of albumen, of gum, and of a peculiar substance
resembling gluten, or vegetable gelatine ; also a minute
proportion of cerosin, and of a green vegetable wax. The
mineral ingredients resemble those of other plants and vege¬
table juices, and consist of the sulphates of lime and of
potash, chlorides of potassium and of sodium, phosphate of
lime, silica, &c. The juice has usually a yellowish colour,
but is sometimes colourless, and greyish globules suspended
in it render it turbid. It has an agreeable but rather insipid
taste, and a peculiar balsamic odour. It contains from 17
to 20 per cent, of crystalline cane-sugar; but the planter
does not obtain more than 7£ per cent. There is a loss of
sugar in the mode employed of expressing the juice from
the cane; and, secondly, a loss arising from the chemical
change due to exposure to the air, whereby the crystalline
sugar becomes degraded into mucilaginous or non-crystal¬
line sugar, commonly called molasses. Indeed, did space
permit, it would be easy to show that the loss to the
planter commences in an imperfect system of agricul¬
ture, the ground being worked by hand-hoeing instead of
deep ploughing, and from a frequent absence of agricultural
and manufacturing machinery of improved construction.
The exposure of the juice to the air of a tropical climate,
even for half an hour, would cause fermentation to set in ;
lime is therefore immediately added for the purpose of neu¬
tralizing the acid, and rendering some of the soluble impuri¬
ties insoluble. The old method of clarification, or defeca¬
tion of the juice, is by heating it in iron pans or teaches,
arranged together in a row, and heated by one common fire.
The juice-reservoir below the crushing-mill supplies the
largest pan, the fifth in the row, and farthest from the fire,
with juice. The milk of lime, or temper, as it is called, is
equal to about y^th of the weight of the juice, but the
proportion varies with the quality of the juice, and the
effect of the heat, which should not exceed 140°, is to
1 There are three species of cane recognised by the cultivator:—!. The CreoU cane, with dark green leaves and a thin knotty stem ;
it is indigenous in India. 2. The Batavian or Striped cane; it has a dense foliage, and is covered with purple stripes. 3. The Otaheite
cane, which is the most luxuriant and juicy, and is cultivated in the West Indies and South America.
S U G A E. 793
Sugar, coagulate the albuminous portions of the juice, which rise
to the surface in the form of scum. This is removed by
skimming, and the juice is passed through the other
four teaches, and evaporated at increasing temperatures
until the sugar will crystallize out on cooling. Scum col¬
lects on the surface of each teache, and a greal deal of it is
nearly pure sugar decomposed by the heat; it is passed into
the molasses cistern, and is used for making rum. The
teaches diminish in size as the juice diminishes in volume,
and it is ladled by hand from one teache to another, thereby
leading to further deterioration by exposure to the atmo¬
sphere. The syrup is passed from the last, or skipping
teache, to the coolers usually by means of shoots, and it is
known when the granulating point has been attained by
taking a portion of the syrup upon the thumb, and placing
the forefinger upon it, separating them so as to draw out a
thread, and if it extend to the length of about an half-inch,
the sugar is judged to be sufficiently boiled. This trial by
the touch is thought to have given the name of teache or
tayche to the pans, the term being sometimes restricted to
the last or hottest pan. The coolers are shallow, open ves¬
sels of wood, in which, in the course of twenty-four hours,
the sugar grains, or forms into a soft mass of crystals, em¬
bedded in molasses. The temperature in the coolers is
rendered equable by stirring up the mass from time to time
with iron rods. The contents of the coolers are removed
to hogsheads, or potting-casks, placed on an open frame¬
work in the curing-house. The bottom of each cask is
bored with holes, an inch in diameter, each hole containing
a plantain stalk, or a crushed cane, long enough to reach to
the top of the cask. The soft sugar is placed in these casks,
and the molasses gradually drain away through the spongy
stalks into a cistern lined with lead, forming the molasses
reservoir. It may take from two to six weeks before the
sugar is sufficiently dry for shipment; and there is a further
drainage of molasses in the hold of the vessel, promoted by
the deliquescent salts absorbing the damp air, and entailing
a further loss of sugar, said to amount on an average to 12
per cent.
Such is the old system of manufacturing sugar, which, we
regret, is not yet altogether abandoned in our colonies.
Under this system it has been calculated that from every
1000 parts sugar-cane, from 60 to 80 parts raw sugar, and
from 25 to 30 of molasses, are obtained; while, according to
chemical analysis, the yield should be from 180 to 200
parts of crystallized sugar. Mr Kerr states, that of the
1500 gallons of juice required for a hogshead of sugar, net¬
ting 15 cwt. in the English market, the planter does not
get a return of more than 6 per cent, of moist Muscovado
sugar, and that of very inferior quality.
In proceeding to notice the more important of the im¬
provements which have been suggested, and in many cases
adopted, for improving the manufacture of raw sugar, we
may state that the objects had in view have been the pro¬
tection of the juice from fermentation, and its concentra¬
tion with as little agitation and exposure to the air, and at
as low a temperature as possible. Dr Mitchell proposed to
dip the canes into hot water as soon as they are cut, for the
purpose of coagulating the albumen, and preventing it
from passing into the juice, and also to destroy the vitality
of the glutinous fermenting matter. M. Payen recommends
sulphurous acid or bi-sulphite of lime to be used instead
of milk of lime. The French have also invented a con¬
trivance for raising the juice from the crushing-mills to the
clarifying vessels with but little agitation, by means of an
apparatus called a monte-jus ; in which steam acting on the
surface of the liquor forces it up a pipe into the clarifier.
This vessel, too, instead of being a naked copper, exposed to
the fire, is surrounded by a cast-iron jacket, and steam being
admitted into the space thus formed, a moderate and regu¬
lated temperature can be commanded. The bottom of the
VOL. xx.
pan is furnished with a plug, containing two or three holes, Sugar,
one for disposing of the clear liquor, and another, and larger
one, for passing off the thick scum and sediment. The
juice is clarified at a temperature of 176°; particles which
rise to the surface are skimmed off, and milk of lime is added
in quantities just sufficient to neutralize the acid, and this
is regulated by the frequent use of litmus-paper. When
the scum on the surface begins to crack, the steam is shut
off, and the whole is left for fifteen or twenty minutes,
during which time the lighter impurities will have risen to
the surface, and the heavier ones will have subsided. A
hole in the plug, 3 or 4 inches above the bottom, is thrown
open, and the liquor, which should be pale and clear,
allowed to flow out; the heavy matters and the scum are
passed through the larger opening into a cistern, and then
placed in bags, and the juice expressed. The clarified juice
still contains matters in suspension, which are removed by
passing through fine copper-wire sieves, or flannel-bag fil¬
ters, from which the filtered liquor is passed through a bed of
bone-black, by means of which vegetable colouring matter is
more or less removed, together with any excess of lime, and
also mineral salts, ‘originally present in the juice. The
filtered liquor is next concentrated in open pans, heated by
means of steam-pipes to about 25° to 28° Beaume. The
further concentration of the juice is completed in the
vacuum-pan, as in the refining of sugar. There is also
another contrivance for preparing the juice for the vacuum-
pan. A series of straight copper pipes, placed one above
the other, with the ends fixed in cast-iron boxes, or united
by curved end pieces, is placed so as to receive the waste
steam of the vacuum-pan, and over this arrangement of
pipes thus heated, the weak juice is made to fall in a mul¬
titude of drops; so that while condensing the steam within,
the juice sends off a considerable portion of vapour, and
falls in a more concentrated state into a vessel below, from
which it can be pumped up into the vacuum-pan.
As the vacuum-pan is no longer restricted to the refining
of sugar, it may be noticed in this place in connection with
the manufacture of the raw product. It depends for its
action on the principle that liquids boil at temperatures
dependent on the pressures they have to sustain. Thus
water, under a pressure of 30 inches barometer, boils, that
is, becomes rapidly converted into steam at 212° F., whereas
water in vacuo will boil at about 80°. The vacuum-pan
was patented by Howard in 1812; it consists, in its im¬
proved modern form, of a copper pan with a cast-iron jacket,
within which steam is admitted for heating the pan, while
within the pan, and corresponding to its curvature, is a worm
or coil of copper pipe, through which steam is passed for
boiling the juice. The pan is covered by a copper dome,
fitting to it air-tight. In order to preserve a vacuum, or at
any rate a greatly reduced pressure within the pan, the
steam, as fast as it is generated by the boiling of the juice,
is pumped out into a condenser, and condensed by the in¬
jection of cold water, or by the trickling of weak juice over
a system of condensing pipes, as above described. In order
to withdraw and examine the juice during the boiling,
without disturbing the vacuum, a cylinder passes from one
side of the domed top down into the liquor, which cylinder
contains a piston called a.proof-stick, furnished with a notch
or receptacle, which becomes filled with sugar on plunging
it down the cylinder, and can be withdrawn to a sufficient
extent to bring the sample to the outside. A thermometer
passes through an air-tight collar for indicating the tempe¬
rature, and there is a barometer or vacuum-gauge for show¬
ing the internal pressure. There is also a measuring vessel
of about 35 gallons, for regulating the quantity of juice
admitted into the pan. There is also an overflow vessel
for catching any liquor that may boil over from the pan.
There are also peep-glasses in the domed top, one opposite
to the other, so that, on looking through one, sufficient light
5 H
794
SUGAR.
Sugar.
passes through the other to show how the boiling is going
on within. The bottom of the pan is a gun-metal saucer,
ground into a socket, and on lowering this by means of a
lever, the sugar can be run out of the pan. In connection
with the vacuum-pan is also an expansion vessel for i educ¬
ing the pressure of the steam to the point required within
the pan. The heat employed for evaporating the weak
syrup is from 180° to 190°; when the syrup^ begins to
granulate the temperature is lowered to 160°, and just
before the evaporation is completed, the temperature is
lowered to 145°, the lowest temperature at which proof-
sugar will boil under a pressure of 3 inches below a perfect
vacuum. When the attendant finds by drawing out a thread
against the light that crystals are beginning to form, he lets
in another measure full of syrup into the pan, and continues
the operation until the whole charge has been admitted.
The crystals first formed seem to act as nuclei to the next
charge. A large pan, 8 feet in diameter, for example, will
boil 80 tons of sugar in 24 hours; but in smaller pans the
skip or panful of concentrated sugar may be made in from
to hours from the commencement of the boiling.
Fine grained sugar requires a larger measure of syrup at
each charge than the coarse. The concentrated juice, or
proof-sugar, as it is called, consists of innumerable small
crystals floating in syrup, and it is passed out of the pan at
145°, not into a cooler, as in the old process with the teache,
but into a heater or copper pan, with an iron steam-jacket,
raised to 180°, the temperature best adapted to the forming
and hardening of the crystals. During this time the sugar is
stirred with wooden oars to prevent granulation; it is ladled or
run out into buckets or scoops, and so poured into moulds or
small inverted cones, which are perforated at the point, but
at first the hole is stopped with paper, and so they are left
until the following morning at a temperature of about 100 ,
when the holes are opened and the temperature maintained
for 3 or 4 days, during which time the process of liquoring
is performed, that is, a saturated solution of pure sugar is
poured into the top or wide part of the moulds, and this
filtering through the mass carries with it the rest, or much
of the colouring matter. The moulds rest with their points
in pots or jars, which receive the drainings. When pro¬
perly drained the sugar is turned out of the moulds in the
form of loaves, which being trimmed to shapes, are dried in
a hot room, and are then ready for the market. In this
way, sugar, equal to refined, can be produced from the
canes at one operation ; indeed the work of the refiner in
England is chiefly to remove the defects occasioned by the
imperfection of the planter’s apparatus: in fact, raw sugar,
as generally supplied to the public, is a very impure pro¬
duct in consequence of defects in the manufacture which
tend to lessen its sweetness, impart a coarse flavour, injure
its colour, and render its solution milky or muddy. But
in addition to chemical impurities, there are mechanical
ones, such as earths, vegetable matters, and insects, the last
of which may produce a well-known disease in the hands
of the grocer.
The improved methods of manufacture which we have
pointed out have been to a certain extent adopted, or aie
being gradually introduced. In Java, Cuba, and other
places, where improved machinery has been introduced, an
increase of from 30 to 40 per cent, on the quantity of sugar
produced has been effected, while the market value has
risen from 5s. to 10s. per cwt.
The various qualities of raw sugar imported into this
country will be noticed presently ; but it will be convenient
first to review briefly the operations of the refiner. The
cases, bags, and hogsheads of sugar are made to discharge
their contents on the floor, and the casks are inverted over
a steam-jet pipe, which quickly removes all the sugar that
adheres to the staves. The sugar is passed through a sieve
to break up the lumps, and water is added, and the solution
quickly effected by the assistance of steam, which is made Sugar,
to blow up through a perforated pipe placed at the bottom
of the pan ; whence the melting pans are sometimes called
blow-up cisterns. Even at this early stage it was recom¬
mended by the late Mr Finzel to substitute a vacuum-pan
for the blow-up cistern, by which means the solution is said
to be effected with greater rapidity, while exposure to air
and high temperature are avoided. It has been found, how¬
ever, in practice, that the impure sugars have so strong a
tendency to froth up, that the vacuum-pan is constantly
boiling over, so that the plan has been abandoned. While
the sugar is being dissolved in the blow-up cistern, a small
quantity of blood and some lime-water are added, to clarify
the solution and neutralize the acid. The solution is kept
in motion by a mechanical stirrer, or by two or three men
with oars. The quantity of blood is not more than about
£ per cent., and its action is assisted by from 3 to 6 per
cent, of powdered animal charcoal. The temperature is
kept for a short time below 168°, at which the albumen of
the blood coagulates, after which steam is fully admitted
and the solution made to boil. The albumen being dis¬
persed through the solution and then coagulating, forms a
net which entangles the mechanical impurities, and rises
with the charcoal in the form of a thick compact scum, which
is removed. The liquor has been partly decolorised by the
action of the charcoal, but it still contains impurities in sus¬
pension coated with albumen. The liquor is therefore
passed through bag filters or long bags, from which it passes
through charcoal beds, which, in the course of 15 or 20
hours, decolorise a quantity of syrup containing four times
as much sugar as there is charcoal in the filters, d he
liquor is now passed into the vacuum-pan, and is concen¬
trated to the density of 42° or 43° B. at a temperature
varying from 230° to 240°. In this condition the sugar is
held in solution by the high temperature, and when allowed
to cool, rapid crystallization takes place, producing that fine
sparkling grain which characterizes loat-sugar. It is neces¬
sary, however, to transfer the liquor to the moulds at a
certain temperature, just as the crystals have begun to form,
and this is regulated in the vessel below the vacuum-pan
into which the liquor is received, and from which a number
of men fill their scoops and charge the moulds. The saccha¬
rine mass falls into the moulds with a sound as of wet sand,
showing the formation of crystals in the mass. The moulds
are of iron, coated with varnish or glaze, or painted. Gal¬
vanized iron moulds have been introduced, but they do not
give to the surface of the loaf so good a texture as the ordi¬
nary iron moulds. The holes in the points of the moulds are
stopped up during the filling, which is performed on the
lowest floor, and they are raised by an endless chain or band,
called a mould-carrier, to a floor above. The sugar is fre¬
quently stirred to prevent it from crystallizing at the sides,
and to promote the formation of a compact net-work of small
crystals enclosing the mother liquor or saturated solution,
which is impure and coloured, while the crystals are pure
and colourless. The liquid portion is somewhat viscid, and
drains off1 with difficulty, although assisted by a temperature
of 75° and upwards. When the plugs are removed, the
draining is allowed to go on for 24 hours. The first syrup that
drains off into pots or troughs placed to receive it is called
green syrup; the after syrups are called seconds and drips,
and are more valuable, because stronger and of better colour.
The syrups are passed through funnels and pipes into
their proper cistern, the different syrups being kept apart
for re-boiling. After the sugar has set, the face is cut out
with a trowel, and the scrapings, with other similar sugar
material, is formed with water into a magma or pasty mass,
which is poured into the several moulds for the purpose of
removing the colouring matter. After this, nearly saturated
solutions of refined or other white or fine sugars are applied
cold to the surfaces in small quantities by means of a ladle
S U G A K.
795
Sugar, or a nose-pipe, the last in succession being the finest. By
this means the coloured syrup is completely removed by the
passing through of the pale or colourless syrups, and a coat¬
ing of pure sugar is given to the grains, so that after having
passed through the stove the sugar has lost its hygrometric
quality, and remains permanent in the air.
The process of claying, as it is called, has the same
object as the above, and may be used instead of, or in con¬
junction with it. White pottery clay, washed, to separate
soluble matters, is made into a thin paste, and placed on
the sugar in the mould, in a cavity formed by loosening
and scooping out the sugar. It is also usual first to remove
the sugar from the mould, and take away the solid crust
formed at the point. The action of claying is as follows:—
The water which separates drives the molasses before it,
and becoming itself a saturated solution of sugar, sinks
through the loaf, expels the mother liquor, and thus gets
rid of the colouring matter. The syrup which drains oft
is termed clayed syrup. When the sugar is removed from
the moulds, the point is usually knocked off", and a new top
afterwards produced, by turning between crooked knives,
and then the loaves are dried in a hot room at 77°, which
is gradually raised to 122°.
The above methods of cleaning the sugar are tedious,
and various modes of quickening the process have been
tried; such as the action of compressed air on the surface
of the mass ; the production of a partial vacuum below the
moulds (known as the pneumatic process); and thirdly,
the centrifugal process; this has been tried in two ways.
1. The moulds, with their contents, were set in a circular
machine, and whirled round with great velocity. This
dangerous plan, however, has not come into use, at least
not in Great Britain. 2. The sugar is run in a pasty state
into the wire-basket, or perforated plate vessel of a hydro-
extractor, which, revolving at the rate of several hundred
turns per minute, during a period of from 3 to 15 minutes,
according to the quality of the charge, a dry granular
sugar is thus produced fit for the market. When the plan
was first introduced by Mr Finzel, the product consisted of
large beautiful crystals of pure sugar, which were for a time
in favour; but the very perfection of the crystalline struc¬
ture, rendering this sugar less soluble in the same time
than an equal weight of a coarser raw sugar, it was declared
not to sweeten so well, and it did not maintain the position
it deserved. The plan, however, has since been modified :
the apparatus has been simplified, and the granular syrups
being put into the perforated cylinder, the latter is made
to revolve from 1200 to 1500 times a minute during a
space of five minutes, the result is a clean, granular, spark¬
ling, light-coloured moist sugar, for which there is now a
great demand in London. The syrups whirled out of the
extractor during the process are boiled down with other
syrups, and again passed through the machine. The cen¬
trifugal machine has been introduced into the colonies with
advantage to the planter, and the marked improvement
of his product. W^e may also mention, that the superior
variety of treacle known as golden syrup is obtained by
passing the treacle once through a charcoal filter.
Refined sugar, of the first quality, is prepared in small
moulds, and the various syrups which drain off from it
during the cleansing produce several kinds of what are
called bastard sugars. Some of these syrups produce
sugar too soft for loaf, but furnish a superior quality of moist
sugar. Others are run into large bastard moulds, and are
crystallized at a higher temperature in proportion as they
are impure. A small first quality mould will contain about
30 lb. weight of wet granulated sugar, from which about
10 lb. of green syrup will drain off, and if the remaining
20 lb. be dried without claying, the weight will be 17 lb.,
but if clayed only 11 lb.; but the sugar is of the first
quality. A bastard mould will contain 60 lb. of granulated
sugar of the second quality, from which 25 lb. of molasses
will drain off, leaving 35 lb. of unclayed moist sugar, or
32 lb. when dry; but if this be clayed and dried it will
produce 17 lb. of second quality loaf-sugar. The time
occupied in refining varies from 8 to 10 days, but for the
inferior qualities longer. What is called stamped sugar is
prepared from the inferior qualities, by grating the moist
soft lump, passing the flour through a sieve, and, while
moist, stamping it in layers in a first quality mould, from
which it is removed and dried.
The large crystals of sugar known as sugar-candy are
prepared chiefly in Holland and Belgium, from syrup
boiled over an open fire, and set aside to crystallize in a
vessel in which strings are stretched, to serve as nuclei to
the crystals. In the course of six or eight days the crys¬
tallization is complete, and the vessel, which is contracted
towards the bottom, is inverted, when, after breaking up
the surface, the syrup drains off, and the crystals are re¬
moved and dried. The usual crystalline form is a six-sided
prism, commonly flattened, and terminated irregularly. A
solution of sugar, saturated at 230°, forms, in cooling, a
granular mass, or tablet; but when rapidly boiled until it
acquires a tendency to a vitreous fracture on cooling, or
when sugar is fused at about 280°, or from that to 320°, so
that a portion feathers or concretes on being thrown upon
a cold surface, it may be poured out upon a marble slab,
and will cool into an amorphous mass. Such is barley-
sugar, so called from the sugar having been formerly con¬
centrated by rapidly boiling in barley-water or sweet wort.
It is usually sold in sticks, to which a spiral twist has been
given while hot. This vitreous transparent substance dete¬
riorates by keeping. It becomes opaque first on the sur¬
face, and then throughout the mass, passing in fact into the
crystalline condition ; heat is given out during the change.
Confectioners add a little vinegar or tartaric acid to the
sugar, which retards, if it does not altogether prevent, the
opacity. The show-sticks resembling barley-sugar in
grocers’ windows are made of coloured glass.
The sugar-refiner receives most of the sugars of com¬
merce into his establishment, and it will be well to enume¬
rate the principal varieties of them here. West Indian and
other American raw sugars are known as Muscovado, from
the Spanish, or rather Portuguese word mascabado, “ more
advanced.” These are made marketable by being crystallized
and cleared of molasses, without any attempt to dry or de¬
colorise them. They form the favourite scale or grocery
sugars of this country, the muscovado of Jamaica being
preferred. There is, however, an important exception in
the case of Cuba, three-fourths of the sugar from that
island being clayed. Clayed sugar is not so large or well
defined in its crystals as muscovado. The removal of the
coating of syrup from the surface of its crystals gives it a
grey and less pleasing shade or complexion than musco¬
vado, which, when well made, is bright yellow or straw-
coloured. The clayed sugars, therefore, are not used for
grocery sale. What is called white clayed is that portion
which forms the upper part of the mould in the process of
claying; it is whiter or further'removed from brown than
ordinary clayed. Clayed sugars are commonly stronger,
that is, they yield a larger percentage of refined sugar and
less of the lower products than muscovado. The sugars of
St Croix are much admired. The sugars of Porto-Rico
and Barbadoes are esteemed ; but the softness and quantity
o{foot, as the wet side of the contents of the cask is called,
in the case of Barbadoes sugar, is an objection. The
sugars of Brazil are usually clayed, and are sold as white
clayed and brown clayed, the latter being nearer the apex
of the mould. The Mauritius produces two-thirds as much
sugar as all our West Indian colonies together. The sugar is
subjected to a process analogous to claying; that is, it is
washed with a surface application of concentrated cane-
Siigar.
796 S U G
Sugar, juice, which percolates through the mass as the water does
in claying. Such sugar is spoken of as clairce ; it is much
esteemed by the refiners of France and of the United
Kingdom. There is an inferior class of sugars (analogous
to refinery bastards), known as syrup sugars, prepared
from the molasses of the foregoing varieties, and from that
obtained from lower kinds. The sugars of the British
East Indies are made by various processes, and are of
various qualities, as indicated by the names Khaur, Goor,
Jagery, the two former belonging to Bengal, the last to
Madras. Some sugars made by European refiners in Hin-
dostan are named after the factories where they are worked,
such as Cossipore, Ballykhal, &c. The sugars of Java
are mostly clayed. They are well adapted for refining,
and are chiefly used in Holland. The Philippine Islands
produce Manilla sugar; it is a strong brown raw material,
adapted for refining. Much of it is unclayed, and under the
names of Taal, Zebu, &c., finds its way to the Australian and
British markets. It is converted into yellow crushed sugar.
In addition to these tropical sugars there are occasional im¬
portations of brown sugar in cakes or loaves (Rapaduros).
Such sugars are made in small establishments, and are
moulded often without parting with the molasses. Attempts
have also been made to introduce cane-juice in a concen¬
trated or inspissated state for the use of the refiners, but
without much success. The Melado of Cuba is of this
kind. The sugars imported into thelBritish markets are
distinguished as British colonial, foreign, and beet, the first
being the produce of our own colonies, the last of the con¬
tinent of Europe. Maple sugar is never imported except
for presents. Bate sugar is largely used by the refiners.
Beet raw sugar is imported from France by the refiner,
but requires to be used with caution on account of its
peculiar flavour.
The packages in which sugar is made up are as varied
as the sources of supply. West India muscovados are
sent over in hogsheads (hhds.), tierces, (trs.), and barrels
(brls.) The average net weights of the hogsheads are 10
and 18 cwts. respectively, those of Porto-Rico being the
smallest, those of Jamaica the largest; of the tierces, 7 and
10 cwts., and of the barrels, 2 cwts. The clayed sugar of
Cuba, called Havannah sugar, from the name of the prin¬
cipal port of shipment, is packed in boxes of about 4 cwt.
It is the produce chiefly of the north side of the island, the
southern side furnishing more muscovado or hogshead sugar.
Much of the Brazil crop is packed in cases or chests of
from 12 to 18 cwt.; but the more convenient and econo-
nomical form of bags is superseding the unwieldy pack¬
ages; the bag weighs about 160 1b. Mauritius sugar is
shipped in mats, or bags covered with strong reed or cane
matting, of about the same weight as the Brazil bags. East
India sugar is supplied in bags of rather less than 2 cwt.,
that of Manilla in mats of from 50 to 150 lb., and that of
Java in baskets or kanasters of from 5 to 6 cwt. The tares
allowed on these several packages by the customs and by
merchants vary in different places, the merchants’ or mar¬
ket tare differing at different ports of the same country.
In the year 1843 the consumption of sugar in the United
Kingdom was 202,400 tons; in the year 1859 it was 457,500
tons. In the year 1858 the quantities of unrefined sugar
imported into the United Kingdom amounted to 9,010,813
cwts., of the computed real value of L.12,322,405. Of
this quantity there were entered for home consumption
8,746,934 cwt. In the same year were also imported of
refined sugar and sugar-candy 386,839 cwts., of cane-juice
56,418 cwts., and molasses 775,657 cwts., of which quanti¬
ties there were entered for home consumption respectively,
257,339 cwts., 57,361 cwts., and 819,226 cwts., the last
number including 17,553 cwt. delivered duty free for use
in distilleries. The import of the refined sugar was of the
computed real value of L.753,681, and of the molasses
A R.
L.391,787. Raw sugar is entered as of first quality, equal Sugar,
to white clayed; second quality, not equal to white but .
equal to brown clayed; and third quality, not equal to
brown clayed. Of the whole quantity of unrefined sugar
imported into the United Kingdom in 1858, rather more
than one-third, or 3,628,912 cwts., were from foreign ports,
the remainder from British possessions. Of refined sugar
and sugar-candy in the same year, 204 cwt. were from
British possessions, and 386,635 cwt. of foreign, 326 cwt.
of British, and 255,914 cwt. of foreign respectively. The
duty on the unrefined sugar entered for home consumption
amounted to L.5,848,l70. Sugar, whether the produce of
British or foreign possessions, being now subject to the same
rate of duty, the custom-house entries have ceased to dis¬
tinguish them, except as the port of shipment serves to
indicate their origin. The average price for the year was
29s. 7d. per cwt.
On the continent of Europe the beet-root {Beta vid-
garis) is cultivated on account of its saccharine juice being
available for the manufacture of sugar. There are many
varieties of this plant, such as the large field beet, the disette
of the French, and the mangel-wurzel of the Germans. In
this variety the flesh, skin, and leaf-stalk are white, the bulb
is nearly cylindrical, protrudes much from the ground, and
weighs 25 lb. and upwards. There is a sub-variety of a
reddish colour, known as long red mangels ; another variety
of beet is represented by the White Silesian ; it is somewhat
pear-shaped, with a white flesh and skin, and occasionally
rose-red rings in the flesh. Its largest roots do not exceed
5 lb. It abounds in sugar, and the juice is more free from
salts and other injurious ingredients, so that it is a favourite
with the sugar manufacturers. The three sub-varieties of
the White Silesian are distinguished by the colour of the
ring presented by a cross-section of the crown close to the
bulb. The first is the collet rose, with a rose-red ring ; the
second the collet vert, with a green ring; the third the
collet jaune, with a yellow ring. There is a third group
of beet-root known as the globular, of which the yellow
globe mangel-wurzel, or Castelnaudary beet is the type. It
is pear-shaped, approaching to globular, with the skin flesh-
yellow, or passing on into orange, yellowish-green leaf-stalks,
and a soft and juicy flesh. It grows to a much larger size
than the Silesian, and four sub-varieties of it are recognised.
There is a softer variety than the Silesian, known as the
Siberian beet; it is of a flattened pear-shaped form, with a
white or occasionally rose-red flesh; the bulb grows almost
entirely out of the soil, which is a disadvantage, since the
part exposed to the action of the sun contains less sugar
than the covered portion. All the varieties of beet tend
to change their colour, and to become red in the skin and
slightly rosy in the flesh; they do not, apparently, differ
in chemical composition, although some are better adapted
to the manufacture of sugar than others. The collet rose
is said to contain the richest and purest juice and is most
prized, but the Quedlinburg beet is preferred in North
Germany; it is thought to keep better than the Silesian,
and its juice to be less acted on by the air. The sugar of
the beet is identical with that of the cane ; it gradually
increases in quantity until the beet is ripe, and by good
cultivation, the percentage of sugar may nearly equal
that of the sugar-cane. When the flower-stalk begins to
form, the percentage of sugar declines; and when the seed
is mature, it is almost nothing. Good beet contains, on an
average, 10 per cent, of sugar, 3 of pectin, soluble salts,
&c., and 83 per cent, of water, thus making 96 of juice,
the remaining 4 parts consisting of albumen, woody fibre,
and insoluble salts. The juice ferments like that of the
sugar-cane, but mannite is produced at the expense of the
sugar, and a kind of mucus is formed, which is precipitated
by alcohol, and resembles gum-arabic. Beet will grow
almost anywhere in the temperate zone, and upon all kinds
SUGAR.
797
Sugar, of soil, but a light rich loam inclining to clay rather than
sand is best. Care should be taken in the application of
manure, especially of the nitrogenous kind, lest the juice
be rendered impure, and the proportion of fermenting azo-
tised matter be increased. The beet-roots may be kept
for some months in what are called silos, or shallow ditches
dug in the sandy soil, protected from the air by a thatch,
and built into trunks of wood in the mass, to serve as ventU
lating apertures. But there is danger of the sugar passing
into the non-crystalline variety. The leaf-stalks and root are
removed as soon as the plant is gathered; the former pene¬
trate somewhat deeply into the bulb, and form the heart;
this contains very little sugar, but a large proportion of
salts, especially nitrates.
When the roots are to be used in the manufacture of
sugar, the bruised, decayed, and mouldy parts should be
cut away, or the juice may be injured. The bulbs are
washed in a large revolving drum, formed of laths or bars
of wood partly immersed in water ; this gets rid of sand and
earth. The axis of the drum is somewhat inclined; the
bulbs are fed in at the upper end and pass slowly down to
the lower, where they are raised by a scoop and thrown
upon a lattice frame. They then pass through a rasping or
grating machine, which tears open the cells containing the
saccharine juice, and reduces the bulbs to pulp. This
machine consists of a drum, the surface of which is thickly
studded with teeth, against which the bulbs are pressed,
while the drum rotates, and a stream of water plays against
them, to prevent them from being clogged. The drum
makes 700 or 800 revolutions per minute, and reduces from
300 to 350 cwt. of bulbs to pulp every day while it is in
action. The pulp passes into a cistern below the rasp, and
is immediately placed in bags of woollen cloth or hemp,
and is pressed by means’ of a hydraulic press. The bags
are separated from each other by means of metal plates, or
hurdles of plaited willow twigs. After the pressing’ from
15 to 20 per cent, of juice remains in the pulp. To recover
a portion of this the bags are dipped in water containing
1000th part of tannin in solution, to check fermentation,
when the bags swell up to their former bulk, and are again
pressed. The juice is collected into a reservoir. The table
at which the bags are filled is furnished with a gutter lead¬
ing to the juice-reservoir, and in some cases the first pres¬
sure is made at this table by means of a small hand-press,
which expresses 30 to 40 per cent, of the juice. The waste
pulp or husk still contains a small proportion of sugar, and
is used as food for cattle, mixed with other kinds of fodder.
There is also a loss of sugar during the rasping and pressing,
in consequence of exposure to the air, and some of the finer
particles of the pulp find their way into the juice. Hence
an attempt has been made to obtain the juice by macera¬
tion, such as cutting the bulbs into thin slices, and digesting
them repeatedly in warm water; but the objection is to the
great dilution of the juice by this means. Attempts have
also been made to dry the beet-root as soon as it is harvested,
so as to get rid of 83 per cent, of water; but the expense
of fuel is an objection, although the method of manufactur¬
ing sugar from cassettes, as the dried fragments are called,
is occasionally adopted ; but here, again, in proceeding to
the manufacture, water, or lime and water, must be added.
As soon as the beet-root juice is obtained, it is raised to
the temperature of 140°, and the defecation is conducted by
means of hydrate of lime. In order to clear the liquor, an
excess of lime is used, and this is got rid of by means of
ammonia alum, whereby sulphate of lime is formed, and, the
alumina set free, assists the clarification. Pectic acid may also
be employed to get rid of the lime, but there is an objection
to sulphuric acid which was formerly used, for this converts
some of the crystallizable sugar into glucose. The liquor
is filtered through charcoal-beds, evaporated at a steam-heat
in an open vessel to 25° B., filtered again, and then passed
into the vacuum-pan. In evaporating the syrup, various
forms of apparatus are in use, some of which take the place
of the vacuum-pan, of which kind we may mention the
evaporating cone of Lembeck, consisting of a double coni¬
cal envelope about 16 feet high, heated by steam of the
pressure of four or five atmospheres, while the syrup is dis¬
tributed over the interior by means of a six- or eight-way-
funnel, and in descending is divided and distributed by
means of hollow conical segments, toothed at the lower
edge. The exterior surface of the cone also receives a
supply of the syrup which is to be evaporated, and as the
syrup descends it increases in strength, and passes by small
channels into a trough leading to a cistern. By means ot
a ball-cock arrangement the syrup is made to flow quicker
or slower, according to the rate of evaporation.
The workmen have several kinds of tests for ascertaining
the degree of concentration of the syrup. The preuve au
filet, or string-test already referred to in the manufacture
of raw sugar, consists in taking a drop of syrup between
the finger and thumb, and if, on suddenly separating them,
it draw out into a thread, the syrup is judged to be suffi¬
ciently concentrated ; if the thread break and curl up into
a little hook, the evaporation is said to have been carried
to the prewve au crochet, of which there are two kinds, the
weak and the strong. In making sugar-candy there is the
preuve au souffle, or bubble-test, in which a man dips a
skimmer into the syrup, and removing it, holds it upright,
and blows forcibly through the holes so as to form bubbles of
syrup on the other side ^ if a number of bubbles are blown
away, the proof is said to be souffle fort; if only a few, souffle
leger. In making barley-sugar, &c., the proofs are le petit
casse, le grand casse, and le casse sur le doigt. In the
first, the moist finger is dipped into the syrup, next into
cold water; the sugar is then rolled up into a ball, and
this, on being thrown to the ground, splits and loses its
shape. In the second proof, the ball is so brittle as to fly
to pieces by this treatment, and in the third it solidifies and
becomes brittle on the finger. According to M. Payen,
the foregoing tests depend upon the following temperatures
and percentages of sugar :■—
Tests.
Temperature.
100 parts contain
Filet  
Crochet leger ....
„ fort  
Souffle leger 
„ fort  
Casse petit  
» grand  
„ sur le doigt.
Fahr.
228-2°
230-9
233-6
240 8
249-8
251-6
263-3
270-5
Sugar.
85
87
88
90
92
92-67
95-75
9655
Water.
15
13
12
10
8
7-33
4-25
3-45
There are certain points to be attended to in the defe¬
cation and clarification of the syrup, or the evaporation will
not be successful. If there has been a deficiency of lime,
the syrup will froth and foam in the boiling, to remedy
which a lump of butter is thrown into the syrup, which
spreads over the surface and lubricates the bubbles. If
there has been an excess of lime the syrup will not boil,
especially if much oxalate of potash be present in the beet.
When the syrup is sufficiently concentrated, it is drawn off
into coolers or heaters, as the case may be, then passed into
moulds, where its treatment resembles that of cane-sugar.
We have referred to an excess of lime being injurious,
and it is so chiefly in the mode of getting rid of it. Sugar
unites with lime without changing its properties, and may
be recovered with little or no loss. This fact has led to
several plans for economising the manufacture of beet-root
sugar; an excess of lime is employed for the purpose of
converting the whole of the sugar into saccharate of lime;
and then, after defecation and evaporation, the sugar is re-
Sugar.
S U G A K.
798
Sugar, covered by saturating the lime with carbonic acid, obtained
by the combustion of coke and charcoal. The advantages
are, great saving in animal charcoal, and the protection of
the juice from deteriorating influences.
The secondary products of the manufacture consist of
the pulp, as already noticed, while the molasses contain the
non-crystalline sugar, various salts, organic matters, gum or
mucus, which imparts a nauseous taste ; it is occasionally
mixed with the refuse pulp, and is given to cattle, or is used
in the production of alcohol. The scum, the bone-black,
&c., are used as manure.
Although, as already stated, Napoleon I. endeavoured to
encourage the manufacture of beet-root sugar in France, it
declined after his fall ; but in 1825 it revived again. In
1827-8 France produced 4000 tons of beet-sugar; in
1837-8, the production had increased to 39,000 tons ; and
in 1857-8 to 150,000 tons. In 1858-9 it was 130,000
tons. The French duties, as well as those in Belgium, are
charged on the density of the juice as measured by the
areometer.
In Germany the sugar-beet manufacture dates from about
1835. In 1858-9 the -Zollverein worked up 36,668,557
cwt. of roots. There were 250 refineries in the Zollverein
in 1859, of which number 221 were in Prussia. Up to
1853 the customs calculated 20 cwt. of roots as being equal
to 1 cwt. of raw sugar. Since that date 15 cwt., and now
even 12£ cwt. of roots are considered equal to 1 cwt. of
sugar. The present duty is about 3 thalers 22 silbergroschen
per cwt., and that from cane as used in the inland refineries
5 thalers. In the Austrian empire the quantity of beet-root
worked up in 1859 was 16,042,248 cwt. Here also the
system of protection is adopted in favour of beet-sugar.
In Belgium the quantity of sugar produced in 1859 was
18,000 tons. Here, too, there is a protective duty. It is
stated that in Russia from 30,000 to 40,000 tons are pro¬
duced annually.
Another source of sugar is the maple (Acer sacckarinum),
the sweet, juice of which supplies the natives of the United
States and Canada with a considerable proportion of their
sugar. The juice is collected in February and March, when
the sap is most abundant, for which purpose two holes are
bored on the south side of the tree, 4 or 5 inches apart, and
18 or 20 inches from the ground. They are made to slope
upwards, and not to penetrate more than half-an-inch into
the white bark or splint of the stem. Wooden pipes are
put into the holes thus formed, and the juice is allowed to
flow during about six weeks into wooden troughs, from
which it is removed in cans to reservoirs which supply the
boiling pans, which are of the capacity of from 13 to 15
gallons. The juice must be removed from the troughs
every two or three days, or it will ferment. The boilers
are heated over a brisk fire; the scum is removed as it
forms, and fresh juice is added to supply the loss from eva¬
poration. The syrup is strained through a woollen cloth,
boiled rapidly down in a second pan, cooled, and poured
into moulds to crystallize. After the syrup has drained off,
the resulting sugar is dry in the grain, of pure taste, and
about equal to raw colonial sugar. There is a pleasant
maple flavour belonging to this sugar ; it finds a ready sale
in the United States in the form of small, well-proportioned,
square-sided cakes. In good seasons a tree will yield from
3 to 9^ lb. of sugar, and we have seen it stated that one
sugar orchard has yielded on an average as much as 6 lb.
per tree for 80 years. According to a recent calculation,
as much as 27,000 tons of maple sugar are produced in
the United States in one year.
Attempts have been made to manufacture sugar from
the stems of Indian corn, from the common gourd, and
from various kinds of palm. From the last-named source,
a juice charged with cane-sugar is known in India as toddy,
when fermented and distilled arrack; but by the evapora¬
tion of the toddy, the sugar known as jagery is obtained. Sugar.
The x-yots or peasants of India cultivate the sugar-cane,
express the juice, boil it down to a thick syrup, which,
under the name of goor, is sold to the goldars, who pro¬
duce the solid product. Other sources of sugar have been
proposed, such as chesnuts, the fruit of the Cactus Opuntia,
and a species of wild daffodil, Asphodelus.
The Chinese and African sugar-canes, known as the
sorgho and imphee (Holcus saccharatus), are the names of
gramineous sugar-bearing plants or millets : they were in¬
troduced to European notice in 1786 by Professor Pietro
Arduino, of Florence, who attempted to introduce the
imphee from Caffreland into Italy, but did not succeed.
In 1851 the Count de Montigny, the French consul at
Shanghai, sent home some seeds of the Holcus saccharatus ;
and about the same time Mr Leonard Wray called atten¬
tion to the same plant as cultivated by the Zooloo Caftres,
not for the purpose of manufacturing sugar therefrom, but
for chewing and sucking the stalks. He discovered no less
than sixteen kinds of imphee of various degrees of sac¬
charine richness. The plant, however, has been cultivated
as a source of sugar in China and Japan from time imme¬
morial, and flourishes most on light sandy soils, and cal¬
careous soils, but particularly on alluvial deposits. It has
a tall straight stalk, 16 or 18 feet high, with knots or nodes
at intervals, from which spring alternately long spreading,
tapering, and drooping leaves. The outer coating of the
stalk is smooth and siliceous, like the stalks of maize, and
becomes harder as the plant approaches maturity. The
seed is formed on the tuft at the top. The soft green pulp
undergoes a change of colour as the plant ripens, becoming
violet, then brown, and lastly purple, almost black. In
this state the maximum of sugar is obtained. The bagasse
or crushed stalks should, as in the case of the ordinary
sugar-cane, be returned to the soil as manure. The sorgho
has been introduced into the United States of America
(Sorgho and Imphee, the Chinese and African sugar-canes,
by Henry S. Olcott, New York, 1857). Various accounts
have been given of its productiveness. A sample grown
near Washington yielded nearly 14 per cent, of dry.sacchar¬
ine matter. Mr Wray’s plants yielded 16 per cent.; some
results are as low as 10, and others as high as 23 per cent.
It is stated that an English acre of imphee will, if the cir¬
cumstances be favourable, yield 2 tons and upwards of dry
sugar; but Mr Wray does not estimate the average.crop at
more than 1^ tons.
The canes are cut as close to the ground as possible, the
leaves are stripped off and the tuft removed, and they are
carted to the mill as fast as they can be ground. After
the crushing, the juice is immediately transferred to the
boiler, and heated to about 180°Fahr., an infusion of nut-galls
being added. The syrup is then raised to the boiling point,
when the fire is suddenly checked, to allow the scum to rise
to the surface and be skimmed off, when the heat is again
urged until it granulates on cooling. The after-treatment
of the sugar has no novelty requiring notice.
The sorgho and the imphee have been introduced into
the West Indies, but they are not equal to the canes pre¬
viously cultivated there. In the U hi ted States of America,
however, where frosts are destructive to the ordinary sugar¬
cane, the new plants appear likely to be .valuable. In
1857, according to Mr picott, 50,000 acres were under
cultivation ; but unfortunately this gives no information
respecting the use of the imphee as a sugar-bearing plant,
since much of the seed was sown for the sake of the green
crops.
In this brief notice of a vast subject, our attention has
been chiefly occupied with technological details. The
subject may be profitably viewed from other points of
view, such as the political, the commercial, the botanical,
the chemical, and even the physiological. For informa-
S U H
Suharun- tion under these heads the reader is referred to other parts
pore of this work, and also to the following books and memoirs
II selected from the literature of the subject. Porter On the
ra* i Sugar-Cane, 2d ed., 1843; Wray’s Practical Sugar
>v_"1 Planter, 1848; Evans’s Sugar Planter’s Manual, 1847;
Kerr, Cultivation of the Sugar-Cane, &c., 1851 ; Knapp’s
Technology, English translation, vol. iii.; Scoffern, Manu¬
facture of Sugar in the Colonies, 1849 ; Leon, Art of
Manufacturing and Refining Sugar, 1850. There are
also articles of importance in M'Culloch’s Commercial
Dictionary; lire’s Dictionary of Arts, See.; Tomlinson’s
Cyclopcedia of Useful Arts, See. The manufacture of
beet-root sugar is given at considerable length in Dumas’s
Traite de Chimie appliques aux Arts, tome vi.; Payen’s
Chimie Industrielle, 1851 ; Dureau De la Fabrication du
Sucre de Betterave, 1858. We have also to acknowledge
the considerable assistance we have received in this article
from manuscript information placed at our disposal by an
eminent firm in Liverpool. Also to the Messrs Fairrie, the
well-known sugar-refiners of Whitechapel, London, who
allowed us to inspect their works, and furnished some inter¬
esting particulars for the purposes of this article, (c. t.)
SUHARUNPORE, a towm of British India, capital of
a district of the same name, in the N.W. provinces, 1007
miles N.W. of Calcutta, on the small river Dumoulao,
about a mile from the Doab Canal. It stands in an open,
level, and fertile region; and is surrounded by numerous
groves of palms, mangoes, and other trees, which, as they
display indications of care and intelligence not common in
India, contribute, along with the many British residences
in the environs, to give the place a very pleasant appear¬
ance, and to render it one of the handsomest English sta¬
tions in the country. It has a fort, a military cantonment,
and a government depot. Here also is a botanic garden,
formed in 1817, and now in a flourishing condition, and
very tastefully laid out. Pop. (1848) 37,968. The dis¬
trict, which lies between the Ganges and the Jumna, the
former dividing it from Gurhwal and Bignour on the east,
and the latter from Serhond on the west, is bounded on the
north by Debra Dhoon, and on the south by Mozuffur-
nuggur. Its length is about 68 miles, its breadth 60, and its
area 2165 square miles. The surface is very uniform, sloping
gradually downwards from the Sewalik Hills in the north,
and is only broken by ridges^of low sand-hills parallel to the
Ganges and Jumna. It is drained by small rivers flowing
southwards, and falling into one or other of the great ones
which bound the district. Owing to the high latitude and the
elevation of the country, the climate is cooler than that of
most parts of India,and there is a great range of temperature
in the course of the year. The land produces wheat, barley,
oats, pulse, and other vegetables, rice, cotton, indigo, and
maize. Irrigation is carried on by means of the Doab Canal,
wdiich derives its water from the Jumna. Suharunpore was
ceded to the British in 1803. Pop. 801,325.
SUHL, a town of the Prussian monarchy, in the pro¬
vince of Saxony, government and 30 miles S.W. of Erfurt,
on the Aue or Lauter. It has several churches, a school,
hospital, workhouse, and public offices. In the neighbour¬
ing country there are many iron forges, and mills for bor¬
ing and polishing the metal. Suhl is a centre of the manu¬
facture of arms, and of all sorts of hardware. Woollen and
linen cloth, especially fustian, are also made here. Pop. 8892.
SUHM, Peter Frederik Von, one of the most la¬
borious writers of Denmark, was born at Copenhagen
on the 18th of October 1728. He is said to have read
nearly all his father’s library, consisting of some 1500
volumes, before he entered college in 1746. He began
the study of jurisprudence, but soon turned aside from the
law, even when the brightest prospects in that profession
were luring him on, to pursue his literary tastes. He began
by studying northern history and antiquities; and with that
S U I 799
purpose he visited Norway, and remained there from 1751 Suicide,
to 1765. His best writings are—Odin, or the Mythology of
Northern Paganism, 1771; the Critical History of Den¬
mark, 4 vols., 1774-81 ; and the History of Denmark,
7 vols., 1782. He likewise wrote Idylls and Tales with
grace and spirit. These will be found in his Samlade
Skrifter, 16 vols., 1788-99. His benevolence was as con¬
spicuous a feature of his character as his immense literary
industry. His great library, consisting of 100,000 volumes,
he threw open to the public, and he consented that it should
be united to the royal library a short time before his death,
which took place on the 7th September 1798.
SUICIDE, the crime of self-murder, or the person who
commits it. Some crimes are peculiar to certain stages ot
society, some to certain nations. Suicide is one of those
crimes which we are led to believe not common among
savage nations. The first instances recorded of it in the
Jewish history are those of Saul and Ahitophel; for we do
not think the death of Samson a proper example. We
have no reason to suppose that it became common among
the Jews till their wars with the Romans, when multitudes
slaughtered themselves that they might not fall alive into
the hands of their enemies. Among the Greeks this crime
was forbidden by Pythagoras, as we learn from Athenaeus,
by Socrates and Aristotle, and by the Theban and Athenian
laws. In the earliest ages of the Roman republic it was
seldom committed; but when luxury and the Epicurean
and Stoifcal philosophy had corrupted the simplicity and
virtue of the Roman character, they then began to seek
shelter in suicide from their misfortunes or the effects of
their own vices. The religious principles of the Brahmins
of India led them to admire suicide on particular occasions
as honourable. Accustomed to abstinence, mortification,
and the contempt of death, they considered it as a mark of
weakness of mind to submit to the infirmities of old age.
A custom similar to this prevailed among many nations on
the continent of America. When a chief died, a certain
number of his wives, of his favourites, and of his slaves
were put to death, and interred together with him, that he
might appear with the same dignity in his future station,
and be waited upon by the same attendants. This persua¬
sion was so deeply rooted, that many of their retainers
offered themselves as victims. A like custom prevails
among many of the negro nations in Africa. The tribes of
of Scandinavia, which worshipped Odin, the u father of
slaughter,” were taught, that dying in the field of battle
was the most glorious event that could befall them. This
was a maxim suited to a warlike nation. In order to estab¬
lish it more firmly in the mind, all were excluded from
Odin’s feast of heroes who died a natural death. In Asgard
stood the hall of Odin, where, seated on a throne, he re¬
ceived the souls of his departed heroes. This place was
called Valhalla, signifying “ the hall of those who died by
violence.” Natural death being thus deemed inglorious,
and punished with exclusion from Valhalla, the paradise ot
Odin, he who could not enjoy death in the field of battle
was led to seek it by his own hands, when sickness or old
age began to assail him. In such a nation suicide must
have been very common. Among the numerous Norse
legends there are many picturesque instances of suicide.
Beowulph’s father, for example, is represented by the old
scald as gathering his attendants around him by the sea¬
shore, to witness his embarkation for the other world. After
arranging round him all the spoils of war which he had
gained during his life, his money and his weapons, the old
hero lay down by the root of the mast: the sails were set
and the helm set fair, and the lonely old man in the lonely
ship stood out to sea, and was never heard of more. As
suicide prevailed much in the decline of the Roman Empire,
when luxury, licentiousness, profligacy, and false philosophy
pervaded the world, so it continued to prevail even after
800 S U I C
Suicide. Christianity was established. The Romans, when they be-
^ ^ y ^^ came converts to Christianity, did not renounce their an¬
cient prejudices and false opinions, but blended them with
the new religion which they embraced. I he Gothic nations,
also, who subverted the Roman Empire, while they received
the’Christian religion, adhered to many of their former
opinions and manners. Among other criminal practices
which were retained by the Romans and their conquerors,
that of suicide was one; but the principles from which it
proceeded were explained so as to appear more agreeable to
the new system which they had espoused. It was committed
either to secure from the danger of apostacy, to procure the
honour of martyrdom, or to preserve the crown of virginity.
Mercier says, that at Paris it was the lower ranks who
were most commonly guilty of it; that it was mostly com¬
mitted in garrets or hired lodgings ; and that it proceeded
from poverty and oppression. A great many, he says, wrote
letters to the magistrates before their death. Dr Moore’s
correspondent from Geneva informed him that, from the
year 1777 to 1787, more than 100 suicides were committed
in Geneva; that two-thirds of these unfortunate persons
were men ; that few of the clerical order have been known
to commit it; and that it is not so much the end of an im¬
moral, irreligious, dissipated life, as the effect of melancholy
and poverty. Quetelet, in commenting on the proportion
of suicides annually committed throughout the world, gives
the following:—Russia, 1 to 49,182 inhabitants ; Austria,
1 to 20,900; France, 1 to 18,000 ; State of Pennsylvania,
1 to 15,875 ; Prussia, 1 to 14,404; city of Baltimore, 1 to
13,656; Boston, 1 to 12,500; New York, 1 to 7797.
The statistics of the registrar-general of England and
Wales give the following results :—Upwards of 1000 per¬
sons in England and Wales seek refuge from suffering by
suicidal death every year. The quinquennium, from 1852
to 1856, gives a total of 5415 suicides, of which 1182 were
committed in 1856, and 1076 in 1855. The number re¬
turned is probably less by one-tenth than the number as¬
certained to have occurred. Of the suicides included in the
registrar’s tables, 3886 were males, and 1529 females, mak¬
ing an average annual mortality of 8*51 of the former and
32^5 of the latter sex in every million persons living from 10
years and upwardsof each sex respectively. The maximum is
attained in the decennium 45-55 ; and then there is a steady
declinemntil the decennium, 85-95. It would seem that
the greatest tendency to suicide in this country is manifested
in the male sex,from the 55th to the 65th year; in the fe¬
male, from the 65th to the 75th year; and that in both
sexes ;the tendency to suicide is greater during middle age
and the decline of life than during early life and adoles-
cence.
The returns of 1838-9 indicate that the tendency to
suicide is greatest during middle age and the decline of
life. In the quinquennium already mentioned, 19 males
and 14 females destroyed themselves at 10 years of
age; 348 males and 273 females at 15; 547 males
and 244 females at 25; 726 males and 272 females
at 35 ; 940 males and 346 females at 45 ; 778 males
and 219 females at 55 ; 410 males and 135 females at
65 ; 127 males and 28 females at 75; and 9 males with
5 females at 85 years of age. The modes of suicide are
various, and adapted to all tastes. There were 10 suicides
on railroads, 13 by self-precipitation down the shafts of
mines, 1424 by mechanical injuries of all kinds, 561 by
chemical injuries, such as fire and poison, and 3212 by
suspension of the respiration. It is strange and almost in¬
credible that, while the apothecary’s shop offers so many
easy methods of terminating existence, yet in England the
vulgar death of hanging, or strangulation, is preferred
both by males and females. With males, cutting the throat
ranks next; drowning, third .; and poisoning, fourth:: with
females, the order is strangulation, drowning, poisoning, and
IDE.
cutting of throats. Females resort to the rope and to steel Suicide,
less frequently than men; they prefer the bowl and the >
water. Among poisons, females very judiciously choose
opium, and its preparations, as the favourite agent of destruc¬
tion ; next come arsenic and oxalic acid, two clumsy and
barbarous means, because slow and torturing. Women
use essential oil of almonds more than pure prussic acid.
Ten different forms of poison are used by males, and 17 by
females; even nitric acid, camphor, and phosphorus have
been used, and one female took the deadly cyanide of
potassium as her sleeping potion. It may be deduced from
the extant statistics, that the annual average number of
suicides occurring in England and Wales, in every 100,000
of the population in the five years 1852-56, was 5'81 ; and
the annual average proportion per cent, to the total num¬
ber of deaths from all causes, 0*26. There is no doubt
that many more suicides are committed, but that these
are hushed up for obvious reasons, owing particularly to the
peculiar and almost superstitious abhorrence of suicide in
this country. In Geneva, for example, the annual average
of suicide to the mortality from all causes is as high as
1*21 per cent., and in this canton the suicides took place at
a far earlier period of life. In Geneva, the maximum is
reached at 30 years of age, in England not till 55; in the
one country it occurs in early life, in the other when life
has begun to decline. In Paris the maximum is also at¬
tained, as in Geneva, at 30 years ; but the maximum of
suicides in Paris coincides with that of females but not of
male suicides, the greatest number of the latter occurring
from 30 to 40. The excess of early suicides in Paris
(from 20 to 30 years) has led to much inquiry among psy¬
chologists. The number of suicides is invariably greater
among males than females, who have fewer of the struggles
of life to sustain. Suicides by hanging, and suicides by
cut-throat, are more numerous in France by twice and
thrice respectively than in England ; poisoning is also more
common, in the rate of seven to four; asphyxia, or suffoca¬
tion by carbonic acid gas (the charcoal process), and sui¬
cides by falls from elevated places, appear peculiar to France,
Geneva, and Sardinia. (See Journal of Psychological
Medicine for 1859.) John Stuart Mill, who is decidedly
opposed to legislative interference with the sale of poisons,
as exerting over the subject an entirely unnecessary degree
of state surveillance, has nevertheless the following re¬
marks:—“ When there is not a certainty,” he remarks,
“ but only a danger of mischief, no one but the person
himself can judge of the sufficiency of the motive which
may prompt him to incur the risk [of buying poison, ex/.;]
in this case, therefore (unless he is a child, or delirious, or
in some state of excitement or absorption incompatible with
the full use of the reflecting faculty), he ought, I .conceive,
to be only warned of the danger, not forcibly prevented
from exposing himself to it.” (On Liberty, p. 173.)
Buckle, a somewhat hasty theorist, regards suicide as a
common and constant phenomenon, and tries to show the
folly of law-givers thinking that by their enactments they
can diminish suicide. Preventive measures, however,
have been recently tried in London with success ; and
Plutarch acquaints us that an unaccountable passion
for suicide seized the Milesian virgins, from indulging
which they could not be prevented by the tears and
entreaties of parents and friends ; but what persuasion and
entreaty could not effect was accomplished by very different
means. A decree was issued, “ that the body of every
young woman who hanged herself should be dragged naked
through the streets by the same rope with which she had
committed the deed.” This wise edict put a complete stop to
the extraordinary phrenzy, and suicide was no longer com¬
mitted by the virgins of Miletus.
Buckle justly remarks, farther on in his History of Civili¬
zation, vol. i., “ that suicide is merely the product of the
S U I
Suidas. general condition of society, and that the individual felon
only carries into effect what is a necessary consequence of
preceding circumstances. In a given state of society a
certain number of persons must put an end to their own
life.” He remarks again—“We are able to predict within
a small limit of error the number of voluntary deaths for
each ensuing period, supposing, of course, that the social
circumstances do not undergo any marked change.”
As suicide was deemed criminal by the most illus¬
trious and virtuous of the Greek philosophers, it was
considered as a crime by the laws, and treated with igno¬
miny. By the law of Thebes suicides were to have no
honours paid to their memory. The Athenian law ordained
the hand which committed the deed to be cut off, and
burned apart from the rest of the body. The body was not
buried with the usual solemnities, but was ignominiously
thrown into some pit. In Cea and Massilia (the ancient
Marseille), it was considered as a crime against the state;
and it was, therefore, necessary for those who wished to
destroy themselves to obtain permission from the magis¬
trates.
In the early part of the Roman history there seems to
have been seldom occasion for framing any laws against
suicide. The only instance recorded occurs in the reign
of Tarquinius Priscus. The soldiers who were appointed
to make drains and common sewers, thinking themselves
disgraced by such servile offices, put themselves to death
in great numbers. The king ordered the bodies of all the
* self-murderers to be exposed on crosses, and this put an
effectual stop to the practice. In Justinian’s Pandects
there is a law, by which it was enacted, “ that if persons
accused, or who had been found guilty, of any crime,
should make away with themselves, their effects should
be confiscated.” But this punishment only took place
when confiscation of goods happened to be the penalty
appointed by the law for the crime of which the self-
murderer was accused or found guilty, and was not inflicted
for suicide committed in any other circumstances.
It was decreed in the sixth century, that no com¬
memoration should be made in the eucharist for such
as destroyed themselves ; neither should their bodies be
carried out to burial with psalms, nor have the usual
service read over them. This ecclesiastical law con¬
tinued till the Reformation, when it was admitted into the
statute law of England. As an additional punishment,
however, confiscation of land and goods seems to have been
adopted from the Danes, as we learn from Bracton. At
present the punishment consists in confiscating all the per¬
sonal property of a felo de se for the use of the crown, and in
excluding his body from Christian burial.
SUIDAS, a Greek lexicographer, is supposed by Fabri-
cius to have lived during the latter part of the eleventh cen¬
tury ; but other writers are disposed to believe that he must
have belonged to a more recent period. His country and
his personal history are alike unknown. From authors of
various denominations he compiled an ample dictionary,
which, with all its imperfections, has been found a most
valuable repository of ancient erudition ; and no scholar,
intimately acquainted with the Greek language and litera¬
ture, is unacquainted with the Lexicon of Suidas. The
first edition, which is very elegantly printed, was published
by Demetrius Chalcondylus, Medioh, 1499, fol. He had
access to several manuscripts. The text of Aldus has
some appearance of being derived from a different source,
Venet., 1514, fol. A third edition, with various interpola¬
tions, followed after a longer interval, Basil, 1544, fol. It
was succeeded by the Latin version of Wolfius, Basil, 1564,
fol.; Basil., 1581, fol. An edition of the Greek text, accom¬
panied with a Latin version, was published by iEmilius Por-
tus, Colon. Allobrog., 1619, 2 tom. fol. A splendid and
valuable edition was at length produced by Kiister, Cantab.,
YOL. XX.
SUL 801
1705, 3 tom. fol. Here the version of Portus has received Sulla
innumerable corrections ; and from the collation of manu¬
scripts, as well as by the aid of his own critical sagacity, he Sulpicius.
effected a great reformation of the text. The text of Suidas
was afterwards illustrated by many other writers, particu¬
larly by Toup, Emendationes in Suidam, Lond., 1760-6,
3 tom. 8vo, Oxon., 1790, 4 tom. 8vo. The labours of these
learned men prepared the way for a most valuable edi¬
tion, published under the following title: Suidce Lexi¬
con post Ludolphum Kusterum ad codices manuscriptos
recensuit Thomas Gaisford, S.T.P. ASdis Christi Decanus,
necnon Grsecse Linguae Professor Regius, Oxon., 1834,
3 tom. fol. The third volume is very thin, and merely in¬
cludes three Indices. Bernhardt published an edition
founded on Gaisford’s in 1834 and 1853; and Bekker has
recently issued an edition of Suidas in 1854.
SULLA. See Roman History, §§ 26, 27.
SULLY, Maximilten de Bethune, Duke of, was born
at Rosny on the 13th of December 1560, and died at Ville-
bon on the 22d of December 1640. His name is so con¬
spicuous in the public annals of France, that a mere outline
of his personal history would require an ample allotment of
space. He participated in the fortunes of Henry IV., and
rendered him the most important services in the cabinet as
well as the field. He was grand-master of the artillery, and
superintendent of the finances. Rigidly attentive to the
interest of the king, he had no disposition to neglect his
own ; and in the course of a long life he accumulated an
immense fortune, of which he laid the foundation by his
marriage with Anne de Courtenay, a rich heiress. He w’as
remarkable for his decision of character and bluntness of
manners ; and in spite of all the allurements presented to
him, he steadily adhered to the Protestant faith. The Me¬
moirs of Sully furnish some of the most curious and valu¬
able materials for the history of that eventful era.
SULMONA, a town of Naples, in the province of
Abruzzo Ultra II., in a fertile valley, 24 miles S.S.W. of
Chieti. The valley is drained by the Sagittarise, an affluent
of the Pescara, and forms an important pass across the
Apennines. The town itself is old and gloomy ; it is sur¬
rounded by walls, and it contains a fine cathedral, nume¬
rous other churches, monasteries and nunneries, and a town-
hall in the cinque cento style. Dyeing, papermaking, the
manufacture of catgut and of sausages, are carried on ; and
the town has long been celebrated for its confectionary.
There are some remains of an ancient aqueduct with
pointed arches. The ancient Sulmo, the birthplace of Ovid,
stood near Sulmona. Pop. 9200.
SULPHUR. See Chemistry.
SULPICIA, a Roman poetess, who lived under the
reign of Domitian, and has been so much admired as to be
termed the Roman Sappho. We have nothing, however,
left of her writings but a satire, or rather the fragment of
one, ascribed to this poetess, written against Domitian, who
published a decree for the banishment of philosophers from
Rome. This satire is to be found in Scaliger’s Appendix
Virgiliana, and in other collections. It was separately
published, with elaborate annotations by C. G. Schwartz,
Altorf., 1721, 8vo ; Hamb., 1819, 4to. She is mentioned
by Martial and Sidonius Apollinaris ; and is said to have
addressed a poem on conjugal love to her husband Calenus,
a Roman knight.
SULPICIUS, Severus, an ecclesiastical writer, was
born in Aquitania about the year 363 a.d. His father was a
man of superior rank. Having received a suitable educa¬
tion, the son applied himself to the practice of the law, and
distinguished himself by his learning and eloquence. He
married a rich wife, and was thus placed in a state of
greater independence. He chiefly resided at Toulouse,
and at Eluso or Elusio, near Carcassonne. The death of
his wife weaned his affections from the world, and he is
5 i
802
SUL
SUM
Sulzer supposed to have devoted himself to an ecclesiastical, if not amiable and virtuous ; sociability and benevolence were its Sumorokov
u zer" / „ ' i;fQ UTo LaH rpfmirsfi to the instructions of characteristic features. _ II
Sulzer. SU]
principal work is his Historia Sacra, brought down from lacca on the N.E. It is bounded on the E. by the Java Sea;
the creation of the world to his own time, and written in a S. by the narrow Strait of Sunda, separating it from Java;,
style superior to the standard of that declining age of Lati- S.W. and W. by the Indian Ocean ; and N. by the Bay of
nitv. He has with propriety been designated the “ Chris- Bengal. Its length is more than 900 miles ; its average
tian Sallust.” The first edition was published by Flacius breadth in the southern part, 210, but in the northern, 140
Illyricus Basil. [1556] 8vo. Various editions of his works miles ; and its area is estimated at 160,000 square miles. It is
subsequently appeared ; some of which were illustrated by thus second only to Borneo in size among the islands of Asia,
the notes of Sigonius, Vorstius, Horn, and Le Clerc. A Along the south-western coast of Sumatra there extends Surface
more elaborate edition was undertaken by De Prato, Ye- a mountain-chain, rising steeply in some places at a distance an<l mov
ron£e, 1741-54, 2 tom. 4to. He promised a third volume, of only two miles from the sea; the north-eastern portron, ains*
which, however, did not make its appearance. on the other hand, spreads out into vast unbroken plains,
SULZER, Johann Georg, a philosophical writer of dis- very little above the level of the sea. 1 he island is thus
tinction, was born at Winterthur, in the canton of Zurich, divided generally, according to the character of its surface,
on the 16th of October 1720. He was the youngest ot into two parts, a mountainous and a level one, by a line
twenty-five children. At the age of sixteen, when he went passing through its centre in the direction of its length,
to the University of Zurich, he had not the smallest notion And the mountainous region itself consists of tlnee distinct
of the sciences or of elegant literature, and consequently no parts; the southern, the central, and the northern. Ihe
taste for study. The first incident that developed in him a hid- southern mountainous region is formed by two chief ranges,
den germ of philosophical genius, was his meeting with Wolf’s and covers a tract of ground about 100 miles in length by
Metaphysics. This was the birth of his taste for science ; 40 in breadth. The mountains rise abruptly from the
but he wanted a guide. The clergyman with whom he shore of the Strait of Sunda, which washes the southern
lodged was an ignorant man ; and the academical prelec- extremity of the island ; and from the three promontories of
tions were, as yet, above the reach of his comprehension. Tanjong loca, lanjong Kamantara, and Flat Point, which
On the other hand, a sedentary life was not suitable to his enclose the two bays of Lampong and Samangka, three
taste ; and a sociable turn of mind often led him into com- separate chains take their origin and unite into one above
panv, where he lost much time in frivolous amusements, the head of Samangka Bay. This chain stretches north-
yet without corrupting his morals. Who that observed him west parallel and close to the coast, which is here lined by
at this period, says Formey in his Eloge, would have thought a series of lofty hills and narrow glens, which are steiiie
that Sulzer would one day be numbered among the most and thinly peopled. Much more elevated.than this is the
knowing and wise men of his time? John Gessner, who other range, which runs parallel to this, considerably further
became an eminent naturalist, rendered Sulzer’s inclination inland. Between these two chains lies a lofty tableland,
to study triumphant over his passion for amusement and undulating and hilly in its surface, and containing several
company. Animated by the counsels and example of this large lakes. Ihe principal summits in this southern por-
fellow-student, he applied himself to philosophy and ma- tion of the Sumatran Mountains are Raja Bassa, about
thematics with great ardour, and resumed the pursuit of 16,000 feet, and Keyzer s Peak, about 5000 feet high. I he
Greek literature and the oriental languages. He was central part of the mountainous district both contains all
settled as a pastor in a rural district. In 1741, he pub- the loftiest summits of Sumatra, and stretches ovei a greater
lished Moral Contemplations on the Works of Nature ; breadth of the island than either of the others. It is, how-
and in the following year an Account of a Journey through ever, further away from the coast, for the mountains rarely
the Alps, which showed at the same time his knowledge of approach nearer than 20 miles to the sea, and in some places
natural history, and the taste and sensibility with which he recede as far back as 30. Ihey are separated from the
surveyed the beauties of nature, and the grandeur and good- sea by a plain tract, sloping very gradually up to their foot,
ness of its Author. He afterwards became private tutor to from which they rise pretty abruptly, and in some places
a young gentleman at Magdeburg. This procured him the precipitously. The mountains themselves in this region
acquaintance of Euler, Maupertuis, and Sack, which opened have been very little explored. They seem to form three,
to his merit the path of preferment, and advanced him sue- and in some places even more parallel ranges. Many ot
cessively to the place of mathematical professor in the the peaks are volcanoes, some of which are still active.
Gymnasium of Berlin in 1747, and to that of member of The chief of them are the following Derupo, in S. Lat.
the Royal Academy in 1750. In this last quality he dis- 3° 52, 10,440 feet high; Indrapura, S. Lat. 1 34, 12,140
tinguished himself in a very eminent manner, enriched the feet; Talang, S. Lat. 1 , 8480 feet; Merapi, S. Lat. 0 24,
class of speculative philosophy with a great number of ex- 9700 feet ; Singallang S. Lat. 0 28, 10,150 feet;
cellent memoirs, and was justly considered as one of the and Ophir, N. Lat. 0 12,9500 feet. All o t icse, except
first-rate metaphysicians in Germany. But his genius was the two last, are volcanoes; and all except lalang have the
not confined to this branch of science. His Universal crater at some distance below the summit. Besides these,
Theory of the Fine Arts is a valuable production. A pro- Sumatra contains about 15 other volcanoes, generally from
found knowledge of the arts and sciences, and a perfect 6000 to 7000 feet in height. In the midst of this moun-
acquaintance with true taste, are eminently displayed in tainous region there are many valleys and lakes, surrounded
this work, and will secure to its author a permanent and with rich and fertile tracts, which are frequently well culti-
distinguished rank in the republic of letters. The first vated. One of the most remarkable of these districts is
volume of this excellent work was published in 1771, and Menangcabau, which lies between Mount Talang and the
the second in 1774. His Remarks on the Philosophical equator. It is a broken and hilly tableland, about 50 miles
Essays of Hume is a work of real merit, which does justice each way, and enclosed on all sides with high mountains,
to the acuteness, while it often detects the sophistry, of the The lowest part of it is occupied by the Lake of Sinkara,
Scottish philosopher. The moral character of Sulzer was and the whole is well cultivated, densely inhabited, an
SUMATRA.
Sumatra, dotted with towns and villages. The central mountain
region may be considered to terminate at Tapanooly Bay,
about N. Lat. 1° 40'. North of this lies the third or northern
region, extending to the extremity of the island. It con¬
sists of three or four parallel ranges, which occupy a breadth
of about 25 miles, and are separated from the ocean by a
plain 10 or 12 miles broad. Their general height is less
than the mountains further south ; but there are some con¬
siderably elevated peaks, such as Loesa, 11,150 feet high ;
Abong-Abong, 10,350 feet; and Queen’s Mountain, 6900
feet. These mountains are almost all covered with dense
forests. The eastern range here is the loftiest, and forms
the water-shed of the island. The chain terminates at
Acheen Point, the northern extremity of the island; but
there is also a hilly tract that stretches eastward along the
north coast as far as Diamond Point, at the entrance of the
Straits of Malacca.
Valleys The eastern part of Sumatra, forming probably the greater
and plains, part of the whole island, from Diamond Point in the north
to Tanjong Toca in the south, is occupied by an immense
plain of a very uniform character, except along the coast,
where there is some variety. It is but slightly elevated
above the sea-level, and a large portion of its seaward mar¬
gin, occupying the centre, from Rakan River to Lucepara
Point, is so low as to be laid under water at spring-tides,
and thus to be converted periodically into a vast swamp.
Behind this, the land gradually rises; and the more
northerly and southerly regions seem both to be sufficiently
elevated to escape the danger of inundation. Another
important plain in Sumatra lies on the west coast between
the sea and the central part of the mountains. This region
is better known than any other part of the island, as it has
been for two centuries the seat of several European settle¬
ments. It is a low and somewhat uneven tract, intersected
by numerous swamps, which in some places form islands and
peninsulas of considerable size. There are no important
valleys in Sumatra. Those that descend laterally from the
mountains are in almost all cases very narrow and steep, so
as to afford but an ungenial soil and few attractions to the
husbandman. The longitudinal valleys and plateaus among
the mountains are of greater size and fertility. Some of
these have been already noticed. Another stretches for
about 100 miles from the peak of Merapi, northwards to
that of Lubu Raja. These mountain-valleys are the chief
seats of the native population, but they are as yet but little
known to Europeans.
Lakes and In the mountain region there are several lakes, but most
rivers. 0f are 0f small size. The most important are Sinkara,
which is 12 miles long by 4 wide ; Dano, which is of smaller
size, 1500 feet above the sea; Eik Daho, said to be 4000
feet high; and St George’s Lake. Numerous rivers flow
from the mountains towards the south-w'est, but those which
take this direction are for the most part of small size. The
largest is the Sinkel, which has a course of more than 100
miles, and receives from the right the Sikeri. It enters
the sea about N. Lat. 2° 15'. Proceeding southwards along
the coast we pass in succession the mouths of the Batang
Tara, Tabuyong, Indrapura, Spov, and Kataun, besides
many others of smaller size. The eastern part of the island
is watered by more considerable streams. Of these the
largest is the Palembang, which rises by numerous branches
in the southern mountains, between 2° 30' and 5° S. Lat.
The principal of these upper branches is that known at first
as the Ayer Musi, but lower down in its course as the
Tatong. All the other branches unite with this near the
town of Palembang, where they form a river more than a
mile wide, which bears the name of Palembang down to the
sea. It is navigable for boats 250 miles above its mouths,
and it falls into the Strait of Banca, forming a delta about
24 miles broad, south of the Palembang. The largest river
is the Talan Booang; and north of it there are the Jambi,
803
flowing from St George’s Lake ; the Indragiri, the Kampar, Sumatra,
the Siak, the Rakan, the Assahan, the Batu Bhara, and the
Delli, all flowing in more or less tortuous courses from the
mountains down to the sea, many of them forming consid¬
erable estuaries, and being navigable for some distance.
There are no considerable inlets of the sea along the coasts
of Sumatra.
The southern extremity of the island is formed as has Capes and
been already stated, of three capes, which enclose two small islands,
bays, in which there are several good roadsteads. Along
the whole length of the south-west coast there are no con¬
siderable headlands ; but there is a series of islands extend¬
ing in a line parallel to the shore at some distance from it.
There are, beginning at the south, Engano, South Foggy,
North Poggy, Sepora, Sebeeroo, Batoe, Nias, and Hog
Island. The two capes which form the northern termina¬
tion of the island are Acheen Head and Diamond Point;
the former at the western and the latter at the eastern
extremity of the steep rugged coast, which has been called
the coast of Pedir, about 150 miles in length. The chief
headlands on the eastern coast are Perhabean Point at the
mouth of the Rakan ; Jaboeng Point, at that of the Jambi;
and Cape Lucepara, at the southern entrance of the Strait
of Banca. Off this coast lie the Islands of Rupat, separated
from Sumatra by the strait of the same name; those of
Baccalisse, Padang, and Rankan, all lying together and
separated from Sumatra by the Brewer’s Strait; and that
of Banca separated by the Strait of Banca from the main
island. In general it may be said that the south-west and
north coasts of Sumatra are rocky, and in some places steep ;
while the north-east coast is low, and lined for the most
part with shoals and sand-banks.
As Sumatra lies directly beneath the equator, the climate Climate,
is very warm ; but it is remarkable that, on the sea-level
near the shore, the heats are more moderate than in other
countries within the tropics. At the most sultry hour in
the afternoon the thermometer fluctuates between 82 and
85 degrees: it seldom rises above 86 in the shade, and at
sun-rise it is usually as low as 70. Very dense fogs fre¬
quently prevail in the mountainous regions. The island is
subject to the monsoons, and as, during their prevalence,
the mountains arrest all the vapours with which they are
charged, the island, at least its southern portion, is almost
incessantly deluged with rain. The climate of the northern
portion is not so moist, probably on account of the vicinity
of the Malay peninsula. Besides the monsoons, which vary
every six months, there is a daily variation in the winds,
which blow from the sea to the land during so many hours
of each day, and during the night in the opposite direction,
from the land to the sea. Thunder and lightning prevail
in Sumatra, especially during the north-west monsoon,
when the explosions are extremely violent; and waterspouts
are also frequent along the west coast. The island is
unfortunately subject to earthquakes, which often prove
most destructive. In the marshes and flats along the coasts,
the climate of Sumatra has been found very insalubrious
by the Europeans; but amid the mountains of the interior
the native inhabitants seem to find it healthy, and they
attain frequently to a great longevity.
The soil has been celebrated for its fertility; and it cer- Soil and
tainly produces a most luxuriant vegetation. Of the greater produce,
part of the island but little is known, as it is covered with
impenetrable forests; but wherever it has been explored the
soil seems to consist of a stiff, reddish clay, covered with a
layer of black mould, of no considerable depth. From this
there springs a strong and perpetual verdure of rank grass,
brushwood, or timber trees, according as the country has
remained for a longer or shorter period uncultivated; and
this forest or jungle, as there is but a scanty population,
affords abundant cover for wild beasts of the most ferocious
kind by which the country is infested. Many of the plants
804
SUMATRA.
Sumatra, and trees that compose the forests of Sumatra are remark-
able for their gigantic size. Few of the trees are under
100 feet in height, and many of them aie nearly twice
as much; while the gigantic creepers and parasites, and
the enormous flowers of some of the plants are, if pos¬
sible, still more astonishing. The most important article
of cultivation is rice, which is exported in considerable
quantities from Acheen to India. Maize, yams, pota¬
toes, peas, beans, and other vegetables are also raised.
The cocoa-nut tree is one of the most valuable productions,
furnishing an article of food which is in almost universal
use. There are also large plantations of the betel-nut tree
and the bamboo; the latter growing thick into an impene¬
trable mass, is used in the fortification of villages. The sago-
tree also flourishes, and there is a great variety of palms.
Capsicum pepper, turmeric, ginger, coriander and cum¬
min seed, are raised in the gardens of the natives. Pepper
is grown here in large quantities. The plant appears to
flourish in any of the"different soils that are found in this
island, and it is a great article of commerce. The pepper
plants, which are in even rows, running parallel and at right
angles with each other, present a fine contrast to the wild
scenes of nature which surround them. The camphor-tree,
which grows in the northern parts of the island, is valued
for its juice, which is an article of trade, and sells at a high
price. The benzoin is produced from a tree which grows
in the same district, as also does the tree that yields cassia.
Cotton is also produced, and forms an article of export.
Various other shrubs and plants are cultivated, and are
converted by the natives to many useful purposes. Hemp
is extensively cultivated, not however for the purpose of
making ropes, but to procure an intoxicating liquor called
bang, which the natives smoke in pipes along with tobacco.
Plantations of the latter plant are met with in almost every
district; and there is a variety of other creeping plants,
which are manufactured into twine, thread, and other arti¬
cles of the same nature. No country in the world is more
distinguished than Sumatra for the variety of fine fruits
with which it abounds, and which are the spontaneous pro¬
duce of the earth. T. he most remarkable are the mangustin,
which is produced in abundance, and which for delicacy
and flavour holds pre-eminence over all the Indian fruits ;
the pine-apple, which, though not indigenous, grows in
great plenty with ordinary culture; the orange, which is in
great perfection and variety ; the shadock of the VV est
Indies, which is here very fine, and is distinguished into the
white and the red. Limes and lemons abound ; as also the
bread-fruit; the jack-fruit; the mango, a rich high-flavoured
fruit of the plum kind ; the papaw, a fruit substantial and
wholesome, like a smooth sort of melon, but not very highly
flavoured; the pomegranate, the tamarind, nuts and al¬
monds of different kinds, besides various other fruits of
which the names are scarcely known in Europe. Owing
to the equable temperature that prevails throughout the
year, there is a perpetual succession of shrubs and flowers,
which diffuse a pleasant fragrance, and are, many of them,
used in medicine, or in affording useful dyes. I he castor-
oil plant is found in abundance, especially near the sea¬
shore ; also the caoutchouc or India-rubber plant, the
indigo plant, and several others.
Animals. The zoology of Sumatra is distinguished by some ol the
most remarkable animals in nature. T-he shelter afforded
by its vast forests or tracts of jungle is most favourable to
the breed of wild animals, which abound throughout the
island. Numerous herds of elephants range over the forests,
and are pursued and killed for their teeth; they are
extremely destructive to the plantations of the natives,
which they trample down by merely walking through the
grounds, and thus obliterating all traces of cultivation.
The rhinoceros, both the single and the double horned, is
also a native of the woods. Of beasts of prey the tiger is
the most remarkable. It grows to an enormous size, and Sumatra,
its strength is so prodigious that it is able to drag into the
woods the largest prey, and by a stroke of the fore-paw
will break the leg of a horse or buffalo. Whole villages
are sometimes depopulated by these animals, and great
numbers of inhabitants lose their lives. When a tiger enters
a village, these ignorant people prepare rice and fruits as an
offering to the animal, conceiving that he will be pleased
with these hospitable attentions, and pass on without doing
them any harm. Tigers are occasionally caught in traps,
which are ingeniously contrived in the form of a cage with
falling doors, into which the beast is enticed, and is then
enclosed ; or a large beam of timber is so placed as to fall on
its back and crush him. Another expedient is to entice it
to ascend a plank, which being nearly balanced, is weighed
down by it wLen it is past the centre, so that it falls upon
sharp stakes prepared below. The natives sometimes con¬
trive to poison tigers. The bear is common ; it is small
and black, and climbs the cocoa-trees, feeding upon the
tender part or cabbage. Two species of deer are found in
the forests, and the monkey tribes are innumerable. Here
are also sloths, squirrels, civet-cats, tiger-cats, porcu¬
pines, hedgehogs, armadillos, bats of all kinds, alligators in
the rivers, which are also haunted by the hippopotamus,
guanas, chameleons, flying lizards, tortoises, and tuitle.
Among the domesticated animals the most useful is the
buffalo, which also exists in a wild state, and is remarkably
stron(r and active. 1 his animal supplies the inhabitants
with milk, butter, and beef. Black cattle exist on the
island, but in no great numbers, except on the northern
coast, where they are employed in agriculture. The breed
of horses is small, but they are well made and hardy. The
sheep are also a small breed; the other animals are the
goat and the hog, both domestic and wild ; the otter, the
cat, the rat, and the dog. Frogs, toads, and reptiles of
every kind, abound in the swamps; and the noise which they
make on the approach of rain is tremendous. Among the
poisonous serpents is the viper; and the hooded snake is
sometimes found in the country. T-he boa-constiictoi is
also to be met with, and sometimes grows to the length of 30
feet, and is of proportionate bulk and strength. The sur¬
rounding seas abound in fish. Among these are the duyong,
a large sea-animal of the order mammalia; besides shaiks,
skates, the muraena gymnotus, rock cod, mullet, the flying-
fish, and many others. Of’ birds there is a great variety,
for besides common fowls, which are abundant, the island
contains peacocks, eagles, vultures, kites and crows, jack¬
daws, kingfishers, the rhinoceros bird, remarkable for its
horn, the stork, the snipe, coot, plover, pigeons, quails,
starlings, swallows, minas, parrots, parroquets, geese, ducks,
teal, &c. The Sumatran pheasant is a bird of great mag¬
nificence and beauty, perhaps the finest that the island
contains. Sumatra may be said literally to swarm with
insects, many of which are extremely annoying and destruc¬
tive. These consist of cockroaches, crickets, flies of all
sorts, mosquitoes, scorpions, and centipedes. Ants exist in
immense numbers and varieties. Bees are also numerous,
but the honey is of an inferior quality.
Gold is a production for which Sumatra was once famed, Minerals,
and it is still found in considerable quantities chiefly in the
mountains surrounding Menangcabau, but also in some
other places. Copper exists in the northern part of the
mountain region; but though it is plentiful, and in some
places contains gold, it is only worked to a very small extent.
In the country of Menangcabau iron ore is collected,
smelted, and formed into metal, and there are indications
of its existence in other parts of the island. Tin is one of
the great mineral products of the island. It chiefly abounds
in the neighbourhood of Palembang, on the east coast;
but in many other parts its existence is indicated, and
particularly in the neighbourhood of Bencoolen. Sulphur
SUMATRA. 805
Sumatra, may be gathered in any quantity near the volcanoes ; arsenic
is also found, and is an article of traffic ; and saltpetre is pro¬
em ed, and is used by the natives for making gunpowder.
Coal exists in various parts, and is washed down to the
coast in floods; but it is not esteemed good, being found
near the surface of the earth. Mineral and hot springs are
discovered in many districts.
Inhabi- Che majority of the present inhabitants of the island
tants. belong to one race; though there are various portions of
them distinguished by peculiar characteristics, and hence
sometimes considered as separate nations. But the differ¬
ences are not very considerable ; and the languages that are
spoken may all be considered as dialects of one common
tongue. The people may be designated, in general, Malays,
and are commonly divided into the following five tribes or
nations:—1. The Acheenese, who occupy the extreme
north of the island, and probably, on account of their mixture
with Hindoo immigrants, differ considerably from the other
tribes, being darker in complexion, taller, and stouter, but still
retaining the general character of the Malay race. 2. The
Battas, who occupy the country from sea to sea, between
the Acheenese and Menangcabau, or from the river Senkel
to the Tabuyong. They are of smaller stature and fairer
complexion than the former, and live in a very rude and
savage condition. 3. 1 he Malays proper, occupying the
valley of Menangcabau (which is said to have been the
original cradle of the race), and the whole of the eastern
plain from the Rakan to the Masuse. 4. The Rejangs or
Sumatrans, who inhabit the west coast from the Tabuyong
southwards to the Padang Guchi, a race of men small in
size, but well formed, and bearing some resemblance to the
Chinese. 5. The Lampangs, occupying the mountains
and plains in the extreme south of the island, a race which
resembles very strongly the Chinese, and whose language
differs considerably from that of any other tribe. Besides
these nations, who form the majority of the population, there
are two other races who live in a very savage state, wan¬
dering in the woods with little intercourse with the others.
These are the Orang Kuba and the Orang Gugu ; and it is
not certain whether or not these represent an aboriginal
race of inhabitants. In respect of civilisation the people of
Menangcabau and thoseof Acheen are thefurthest advanced
of all the Sumatran tribes. The Battas. have made con¬
siderable progress in some respects, but they retain the
custom of cannibalism, in the case of criminals and prisoners
of war, with circumstances of peculiar atrocity and cruelty.
Manufac- There are some branches of industry which are prose-
tures. cuted in Sumatra with a large measure of skill and success.
The Malays about Palembang build very excellent boats.
The Battas erect good substantial houses; and though
their farming implements are very rude, they are not only
successful in agriculture, but carry on a system of irriga¬
tion which is very extensive and ingenious. But the chief
seat of manufacturing industry is Menangcabau, where iron
and steel are wrought to a high degree of perfection ; and
the blades of krises or daggers made here are celebrated
throughout the East Indies. In this district iron has been
worked from time immemorial; and an extensive manufac¬
tory of coarse pottery, near the banks of the lake, supplies
not only Padang, but Bencoolen, with that useful article.
The Sumatrans are entire strangers to the art of painting
and drawing. In cane and basket work they are particularly
neat and expert, as well as in mats, of which some kinds
are much prized for their extreme fineness, and for the
beauty and taste of the borders with which they are orna¬
mented. They excel also in the manufacture of silk and
cotton cloths of varied colours, chiefly for domestic use.
Their apparatus for weaving is, however, of the rudest
description, and renders their progress tedious. The women
are expert at embroidery, the gold and silver thread for
which is procured from China, as well as their needles.
Gunpowder is manufactured in various parts of the island, Sumatra,
chiefly among the people of Menangcabau, the Battas, and ^
Acheenese, among whom, as they are frequently at war, it
is an article in great request. It is not, however, well made,
being imperfectly granulated, and often hastily prepared
for immediate use. Different kinds of earthenware are
manufactured in the island. The manufacture of filagree is
here carried to the greatest perfection. There is no manufac¬
ture in any part of the world that has been more justly
admired and celebrated than the fine gold and silver filagree
of Sumatra; this is the work of the Malays, to whose supe¬
rior taste and industry many of the monuments of art which
remain are ascribed. This manufacture is in universal use
in the country ; and its fineness and beauty form a singular
contrast to the coarseness of the tools which are employed
in the workmanship, and which are rudely and inartificially
formed by the goldsmith from any old iron that he can
pick up. A piece of iron hoop as a wire-drawing instru¬
ment, an old hammer-head stuck in a block as an anvil, and
two old nails tied together as a pair of compasses, are the
chief instruments. They have no bellows, but blow the
fire with their mouths through a reed. They are very in¬
expert at polishing the plain parts, but in other respects
nothing can exceed the extraordinary delicacy of the Malay
work. They are extremely skilful in manufacturing fish¬
ing-nets and springs for catching birds.
The Malays and a part of the Sumatrans proper are Religion.
Mohammedans; the other tribes, in as far as they exhibit
any traces of religion at all, are heathens. Mohammedanism
seems to have superseded in this country the Buddhist
doctrines, which prevailed here at an early period; but it
has never made much progress among the tribes in the
interior, owing probably, among other reasons, to the im¬
mense numbers of swine, which constitute an important
part of the wealth of these people, as well as a favourite
article of food. The Battas have a religious system and
an influential priesthood, but they worship no idol.
The Malay language, which is understood to be the ori- Language,
ginal language in the peninsula of Malacca, has extended
itself through all these Asiatic islands, and has become the
common tongue in this part of the globe. It is spoken
everywhere along the coasts of Sumatra. It also prevails
in the inland country of Menangcabau, and is understood
in almost every part of the island. From the smoothness
and sweetness of its sound, it has been called the Italian of
the East. Their writing is in the Arabic character, very little
corrupted ; owing to which, and the adoption of the Moham¬
medan religion, a great number of Arabic words are incor¬
porated with the Malay. The Battas have an ancient and
peculiar mode of writing, from the bottom upwards ; but of
their books in this character little is known, and they seem
to be of no great value.
In a political point of view, Sumatra is divided between Divisions
the native independent states and the Dutch possessions.
Of the former, the largest is Acheen, occupying the whole
northern part of the island. (See Acheen.) It is governed
by a sultan, who had formerly under him many subject-
princes ; but most of these have now become independent.
On the east coast lies the state of Siak, which is also
governed by a sultan, and has a capital of the same name
at the mouth of the Siak river. The country of the Battas
forms three independent states,— Sinamora, Bato-Seling-
Dong, and Butar. Its principal town is Baroos, on the
west coast. Of less size and importance are the states of
Indrapura, Passaman, and Jambi, the two former on the
west and the latter on the east coast. The rest of the
island belongs to the Dutch. Their possessions form six
governments, besides two others, which comprise the smaller
islands adjacent to Sumatra. The governments are:—
1. Sumatra on the west coast, from the equator to 1° 55'
S. Lat., including the district of Menangcabau. The capi-
806
Sumatra.
Commerce
and navi¬
gation.
History.
SUM
tal is Padang. 2. Bencoolen, to the south of the former,
and likewise on the west coast, with a capital ot the same
name. 3. Lampong, occupying the southern extremity of
the island. 4. Palembang, north of the preceding, on the
east coast, including the town and river of the same name.
5. Indragiri, still further north, extending to the southern
entrance”of the Straits of Malacca ; and 6. Assahan, the
most northerly of all the governments on the east coast.
Besides these there is the government of Banca, consisting
of the island of that name, and that of Rhio, comprising the
smaller islands lying south of the Malay peninsula. The
extent and population of these various divisions of Sumatra
are exhibited in the following table:—
Square Miles.
Dutch Possessions:—
Sumatra  46,628 l
Indragiri   14,327 V
Assahan  5,382 )
Bencoolen   9,643
Lampong   10,067
Palembang   54,216
Native States •'—
Acheen  
Battas 
Other tribes  
Pop. (1857).
1,499,271
112,542
82,974
467,685
600,000
1,200,000
550,000
Total population about 4,512,472
The Dutch are continually by slow degrees enlarging
their power and possessions in this island, and year by year
are making encroachments on the independent states.
The trade of Sumatra is carried on chiefly with the
neighbouring East Indian countries. The island affords
many productions which are exported, especially pepper,
gold-dust, camphor, nutmegs, cloves, mace, benzoin, gutta¬
percha, copper, tin, sulphur, coral, &c., which are generally
brought down by the natives to the seaports, and there
exchanged for goods of Indian or European manufactuie.
Besides cotton, muslin, and silk, opium and salt are imported
from India; porcelain, hardware, gold thread, and other
articles from China; striped cotton cloth, arms, and spices
from Java, Celebes, and other islands of the East Indies ;
and silver, steel, cutlery, broad-cloth, &c., from Europe.
There is a considerable trade between this island and
Java and Madura, carried on chiefly in native, but partly
also in European vessels. In 1854 there entered at the
principal ports of Sumatra, from those in Java and Madura,
964 vessels, tonnage 44,446 ; and there cleared for these
ports 871 vessels, tonnage 39,056.
Of the early history of this island we know next to
nothing. Mohammedanism is said to have been first intro¬
duced in the thirteenth century, when the Arabians were
in the habit of undertaking voyages to the East Indies and
to China. About the end of the twelfth century the Malays
began to spread themselves from their original seats in
Sumatra over the peninsula of Malacca and the Sun da
Islands, where they continued to be the dominant race until
the fourteenth century. When the Portuguese landed
here in 1509, they found that the ancient Malay kingdom
of Menangcabau had been dissolved ; but there was a power¬
ful monarch ruling over Acheen, who endeavoured to exclude
the strangers from his country. In 15^5 the Portuguese
shipping in the harbour of Acheen was destroyed by the
natives, and in 1582 an attempt which they made to gain
possession of the town proved quite unsuccessful. No
permanent settlement was made on the island till 1600,
when the Dutch established a factory at Pulo Chinko, on
the west coast. The kingdom of Acheen had by this time
begun to decline in power, being distracted by internal wars
and discords. The success of the Dutch was at first greatly
promoted here, as in the other parts of the East Indies, by
the fact that they arrived at a time when the natives were
bitterly and justly exasperated against the Portuguese, on
SUM
account of the oppression and cruelty which they in many Sumbawa.
cases exhibited, and to which the conduct of the new
comers afforded a favourable contrast. But it soon appeared
that the commercial eagerness of the Dutch was no less
grasping and aggressive than had been the Portuguese lust
of plunder and conquest. They rapidly increased the
number of their factories and settlements, founding one at
Padang in 1649, at Palembang in 1664, and in many other
parts of the island, and securing to themselves the mono¬
poly of the profitable trade in pepper.
The English followed the Dutch in this island,and founded
a colony at Bencoolen in 1685 ; but they never made so
much progress here as their rivals. In 1811, the Dutch
settlements in the East Indies fell into the hands of the
British; Holland having been at that time annexed by
Napoleon to France. But by the peace of 1816 these
colonies were restored to the Dutch, who have since retained
them. In 1824, they exchanged the settlement of Malacca
for the British colony of Bencoolen. A singular war which
took place subsequently in Sumatra led to a material exten¬
sion of the Dutch possessions. It was occasioned by a
religious sect called Padries, who first made their appear¬
ance here about the beginning of the century. Their prin¬
ciples were at first harmless enough, being simply abstinence
from gambling, smoking opium, and drinking intoxicating
liquors; and, for about eighteen years they flourished in
peace. But about 1815, a society of this sect was formed
for the purpose of spreading their doctrines and practices
by force; and this speedily roused resistance and opposi¬
tion. The Malays and Battas made common cause against
the Padries; and for a long time a fierce struggle was car¬
ried on, which devastated Menangcabau and the neighbour¬
ing regions. At length the assistance of the Dutch was
called in against the Padries, and with their help the sect
was entirely put down. The indirect results of this war
were the annexation of Menangcabau to the Dutch pos¬
sessions in 1835, and the opening up to them of the
Batta country, from which foreigners had previously been
excluded.
SUMBAWA, an island in the East Indian Archipelago,
lying between S. Lat. 8. and 9., E. Long. 116. 50., and
119. 10.; bounded on the N. by the Java Sea; E. by the
Strait of Sappi, which separates it from Comodo and Flores ;
S. by the Indian Ocean ; and W. by the Strait of Allass,
which separates it from Lombok. Length, about ISO1
miles; breadth from 20 to 50; area, estimated at 7200
square miles. Its form is irregular, and it is almost divided
into two by the deep Bay of Sallee, near the middle of the
north coast. Along the southern shore a mountain-range
stretches from end to end of the island, with a great de¬
pression about the middle, opposite the Bay of Sallee.
The rest of the island is for the most part hilly, and level
plains only occur in a few places, chiefly at the head of the
numerous bays which indent the northern coast, and along
the Straits of Sappi on the east. One of the most remark¬
able peaks in the island is the volcano of Fumbora, near
the mouth of the Bay of Sallee ; it rises to the height of
9000 feet, and there was in 1815 a most terrible eruption,
which caused a fearful devastation in the island, and was-
heard to the distance of 840 miles. Another eruption,
much less destructive, occurred in 1836. Ihe soil of
Sumbawa is exceedingly fertile. It produces rice, tobacco,
teak, and other kinds of timber, &c. Gold-dust and pearls
are obtained here. The horses of the island are of a very
good breed, and are exported in large numbers. Buffaloes,
deer, and swine abound in the island. Sumbawa is divided
into six native states, governed by rajahs, all of whom
acknowledge the supremacy of the Dutch, who have a
small establishment at Bima on the north coast. This town
and Sumbawa, also on the north coast, are the only places
where there is any intercourse with other countries; but at
SUM
Sumbul* these an active trade is carried on in the exportation of
pore native produce, and importations of opium, Indian and
II European goods.
land. SUMBULPORE, a district of British India, presidency
of Bengal, lying between N. Eat. 21. and 22. 5., E. Long.
83. 6. and. 84. 51.; bounded on the N. by the native states
°f Ryghar and Gangpoor, E. by those of Bonei and
Bombra, S. by those of Sonepoor and Patna, and W. by
those of Phooljee, Sarunghur, and Burghur. Length, 112
miles; breadth, 60; area, 4693 square miles. It is watered
by the Mahanuddy, which divides it into two unequal parts ;
the eastern portion being mountainous and covered with
forests, the western and northern, low and level. The soil
of the lower ground is alluvial and rich, producing in
abundance and of good quality, rice, wheat, and sugar-
canes. It is believed that indigo and opium might also be
raised here. 1 he forests afford a rich supply of teak.
I he most important minerals of the district are diamonds
and gold ; the former are said to be the finest in the world.
The capital of the district is a town of the same name, on
the Mahanuddy, containing a fort, several pagodas, and
other buildings. There is little or no trade, although the
river is navigable. The climate of the town is very fatal
to Europeans. Population of the district estimated at
274,000.
SUMMER, the name of one of the seasons of the year,
being one of the quarters when the year is divided into four
quarters, or one-half when the year is divided only into two,
summer and winter. In the former case, summer is the
quarter during which, in northern climates, the sun is pass¬
ing through the three signs Cancer, Leo, Virgo, or from
the time of the greatest declination, till the sun again
comes to the equinoctial, or has no declination ; which is
from about the 21st of June till about the 22d of Sep¬
tember. In the latter case, summer contains the six warmer
months, while the sun is on one side of the equinoctial ;
and winter the other six months, when the sun is on the
other side.
SUMPTUARY LAWS {Leges Sumptuarice), are laws
made to restrain luxury. Most ages and nations have
had some such laws. Political writers have been much
divided in opinion with respect to their utility. Montesquieu
observes that luxury is necessary in monarchies, as in
France, but ruinous to democracies, as in Holland. With
regard to England, whose government is compounded of
both species, it may still be a dubious question, says Black-
stone, how far private luxury is a public evil, and as such
cognisable by public laws.
SUN. See Astronomy.
SUNDERLAND, a large and rapidly-growing seaport-
town on the north-east coast of England, in the county of
Durham, 268 miles from London. The municipal boun¬
dary embraces an area of 1684 acres, and includes the parish
of Sunderland-near-the-Sea, the townships of Bishopwear-
mouth, and Bishopwearmouth Panns, part of the parish of
Monkwearmouth, and the township of Monkwearmouth
Shore. The River Wear, after running through the centre
of the borough, falls into the sea. The first authentic evi¬
dence of the existence of Sunderland as a place of maritime
commerce is found in a charter granted by Hugh Pudsey,
bishop of Durham, in the end of the twelfth century; and
there are records extant showing that in the year 674 a
monastery was founded at Monkwearmouth, in which the
Venerable Bede was educated, and spent the greatest part of
his life. The town contains a number of fine streets, the prin¬
cipal of which is the High Street, which extends for nearly
one mile from east to west. Throughout the older part of
the town, the houses are much crowded together, and to the
defective state of the sanitary arrangements in that quarter
may be mainly attributed the great ravages committed by
cholera, which first broke out in this country at the port of
SUN 807
Sunderland in 1832. In 1849 the cholera again visited the Sunder-
town, but since that time many local improvements have land,
been projected and completed. In 1855, a commencement
was made with a system of thorough draining of the entire
borough, and in March 1860 the works were finished, 52
miles of sewers having been formed at a cost of L.51,000.
From September 1854 to April 1860, 75 new streets were
laid out; and during the same period 1280 houses were
erected. To afford the means of healthful recreation for
the inhabitants, 14 acres of land on Building Hill—a pic¬
turesque eminence within the borough—were purchased
for L.2000, and L.3250 (including a grant of L.750 from
Government) were expended in laying out and beautifying
the place for a public park and pleasure-ground. Under
the new burial acts, 3 cemeteries have been formed out¬
side the borough boundaries, the extent of ground thus
enclosed being 54 acres, and the total cost L.37,000. Three
public bathing and washing establishments have been set
on foot, under the provisions of the Baths and Washhouses
Act 1846, the cost of the whole being L. 12,750. A water
company has also been formed, and, at an outlay of nearly
L.160,000, works have been erected which supply daily
to Sunderland and South Shields fully one million and a
half gallons of water, pumped from the sand underlying
magnesian limestone. One of the greatest objects of in¬
terest in Sunderland is the well-known iron bridge which
crosses the Wear, and connects Monkwearmouth with the
south bank of the river. It consists of a single arch of 236
feet in span, having a height of upwards of 100 feet from
the surface of the river at low water to the centre of the
arch, which enables vessels of 400 tons burden to pass
under by merely lowering their topgallant masts. This
remarkable structure w'as finished in the year 1796, having
cost L.33,400, of which L.30,000 was subscribed by one of
its designers, Rowland Burdon, Esq., then member of Par¬
liament for the county of Durham. In 1856 it was found
necessary to strengthen and widen the bridge, as well as to
improve its approaches; and the town council having
obtained the necessary parliamentary powers, the renova¬
tion of the fabric was commenced in the following year,
according to plans furnished by Robert Stephenson, Esq.,
civil engineer. The improved bridge was opened in 1859,
the total cost of the alterations having been L.40,000, the
repayment of which is provided for by tolls, from which
foot-passengers, by a resolution of the town council, are
exempted. The leading feature of Mr Stephenson’s de¬
sign was the throwing across of three great tubular girders,
one on each side of the east and west ribs, and another in
the centre. The cast-iron rings of the original bridge were
replaced in the new one, with malleable iron lattice-work.
The harbour at the mouth of the river is enclosed by two
piers, the north pier, extending 1000 feet, and the south
pier 1800 feet. On the north pier there is a lighthouse,
which, in 1841, on the lengthening of the pier, was re¬
moved a distance ot nearly 500 feet without taking down
the masonry. The depth of water on the bar varying
from 18 to 21 feet at ordinary tides, vessels of a large size
can enter and leave the harbour. Docks have also been
formed on the north and south sides of the river. Wear-
mouth Dock, on the north, can accommodate 80 sail ol
vessels. It was constructed at a cost of L.120,000, and is
now the property of the North Eastern Railway Company.
Sunderland Docks, on the south side of the harbour, were
constructed at a cost of L.720,000. They can accommo¬
date 350 sail of vessels, and have an outlet to the sea inde¬
pendent of the river. This outlet is of great service to
large ships, the depth ot water at its mouth being greater
than that on the bar at the harbour’s mouth. Sunderland
docks were opened in 1850; in 1859 they passed from the
hands of the company that was formed for their construc¬
tion to the Commissioners of the River Wear, who that
808
SUN
S U R
Sunium year obtained an act of Parliament authorizing them to
|| purchase the docks. Ship-building, the export of coals and
Superior, jimej glass.making, the manufacture of anchors and chains,
Lake* of ropes and sails, and earthenware goods, are the principal
industrial features of Sunderland. On the 1st of January
1860, the number of vessels belonging to the port was
1004, representing an aggregate of 232,261 tons. In
1836, the number of vessels that sailed from the port was
994, with an aggregate of 153,415 tons. In 1859, the
number of vessels that left the port had increased to 10,736,
and the tonnage to 1,712,928. In 1836, the total exports
of coal amounted to 971,190 tons; in 1859, the coal ex¬
ports had reached 2,633,232 tons. Several hundred sail¬
ing vessels belonging to the port are solely employed in the
coal trade, but this branch of the shipping interest is threat¬
ened with gradual extinction, the screw-steamers belonging
to the port carrying in the aggregate half a million tons of
coals to the London market in the course of twelve months.
The custom-house duty paid at Sunderland in 1859 was
L.99,115 ; the expenses of the establishment were L.7721.
The port is defended by three batteries, near to the most
important of which is the barracks, with quarters for 300
men. Ship-building is carried on to a great extent on the
Wear. In 1859, a year of great depression in that branch
of trade, 100 vessels were launched at Sunderland, with a
total tonnage of 37,184, and an average per vessel of 371
tons. The total value of the vessels built during a year of
average briskness in business, when fitted out for sea and
ready to receive their cargoes, is three quarters of a million
sterling. The glass trade is also of considerable import¬
ance. Of window-glass, 6240 tons are manufactured on
an average in the year; and 23 millions of bottles are pro¬
duced in the same period. There are seven firms carry¬
ing on both these departments of glass manufacture, and
the total annual value of the window-glass and bottles pro¬
duced by the 1700 hands whom they employ is nearly a
quarter of a million sterling. There are a number of
charitable institutions in the town, one of which, the
Orphan Asylum, opened in 1860, is patronised by her
Majesty Queen Victoria, who contributed 100 guineas to
its funds. This asylum was founded for the children of
deceased mariners of the port, and is principally maintained
from the proceeds of the sale of land on the Town Moor
for dock and railway purposes. There are several literary
institutions in Sunderland; and a museum, with the nucleus
of a free library attached, has been established by the town
council. There are 2 handsome theatres, with accom¬
modation for 3500 persons. The town is connected by
railway with Newcastle-on-Tyne, which is 13 miles north¬
west of Sunderland ; altogether, there are 4 railway termini
in the borough. The municipal government is vested in
a mayor, 14 aldermen, and 42 councillors, elected by 7
wards. The borough returns 2 members to Parliament.
In 1841 the population was 56,607; in 1851 it was 63,897.
SUNIUM, a promontory and demus of ancient Attica,
forming the southern extremity of that country. The pro¬
montory, which rises steeply from the sea to a great height,
was crowned with a temple to Athens, the tutelary deity ot
Athens. This temple is now in ruins, but many of its
columns are still standing, and have given to the promon¬
tory its modern name of Cape Colonna. Sunium was for¬
tified in the nineteenth year of the Peloponnesian war, in
order to protect the corn-ships in their passage to Athens
with supplies, and from that time onwards it was considered
one of the chief fortresses of Attica.
SUPERIOR, Lake. See Canada.
SUPERLATIVE, in Grammar, one of the degrees
of comparison, being that inflection of adjectives that
serves to augment and heighten their signification. It
shows the quality of the thing denoted to be in the highest .
degree.
SUPPER. See Theology.
SURAT, a town of British India, capital of a collecto-
rate of the same name, in the presidency of Bombay, on
the left bank of the Taptee, 150 miles N. of Bombay, and
130 S. of Ahmedabad. Its form is semicircular, and its
circuit is about six miles. It is defended by a small castle
on the shore of the river, and by a wall with bastions and
battlements. The town is not very prepossessing in its
appearance, having narrow, crooked streets, lined with lofty
houses, which have frames of timber filled in with brick.
Besides the castle, the chief buildings in the town are the
Protestant Church, Mosque, Mahometan College, and two
Parsee fire-temples. The English cemetery contains many
tombs of former governors of Surat, and others; there are
also a Dutch cemetery of considerable interest, and a dukh-
ma, or Parsee burial-place. The palace of the Nawab ot
Surat is a plain, unattractive building, remarkable for
nothing but for a fine collection of Arabic and Persian
MSS. which it contains. Surat has also some ruins of the
abodes of the ancient nobility. Outside the walls is the
site of the old French factory, now quite deserted; as also
is the Dutch factory, which was once the best building
about the town. The prosperity which Surat enjoyed in
the latter part of last century,—when its bazaars were
stored with all sorts of merchandise, and crowded with men
of all nations; when its river was filled with shipping, and
its streets with the bustle of life,—has quite passed away.
Bombay has far outstripped its rival, and withdrawn from
it all its foreign commerce; so that its only trade now con¬
sists in the exportation of cotton and grain to the less fer¬
tile regions of Concass. But, as it is the station of a large
number of the British forces, and also of many of the civil
officials, it is still a place of some importance, and contains
a large proportion of British residents. I he inundations
of the Taptee have on several occasions been so great as
to inflict much damage on the town, but since the last ot
these, in 1837, some steps have been taken to defend the
town against them, and by the construction of a canal in
Connection with the river, the risk of their recurrence has
been lessened. The first mention of Surat in history
occurs in 1530, when it was taken and sacked by the Por¬
tuguese, but, as it was then a place of considerable size, it
must have been in existence for some time previously. In
1612, permission was given to the English to establish a
factory here, and the whole possessions of the East India
Company were placed under the governor and council of
Surat from 1567 to 1692, when the seat of government was
transferred to Bombay, on account ot its growing import¬
ance. In 1664, Surat was plundered by the Mahrattas
under Sevajee, but the English factory was successfully
defended against their attacks. During the first half of the
eighteenth century, Surat was in a state of great confusion
between various conflicting powers. At length, in 1759,
the Bombay government, in order to put an end to the
disorder, took possession of the castle, and in conjunction
with the native Nawab exercised the government for forty
years. On the death of the latter, in 1799, the British, at
the request of the inhabitants, assumed the entire govern¬
ment, which they have since exercised. Pop. (1847)
95,000. The district of Surat has an area of 1629 square
miles, and a population of 492,684.
Superla¬
tive
Surat.
809
SUHGERY.
Surgery. 'I he term Surgery, or Chinngery, from yjtfr the hand,
and «fyoy, work, originally signified, as its derivation implies,
the manual procedure, by means of instruments or not, di¬
rected towards the repair of injury and the cure of disease;
in contradistinction to the practice of medicine, denoting the
treatment of disease by the administration of drugs, or other
substances supposed to be of a sanative tendency. Such
a meagre description applied but too justly to surgery in
its infancy, and still more after its separation from its twin-
sister medicine, in the twelfth century. When its practice
was denounced by the Council of Tours as derogatory to
the dignity of the sacred office of the priesthood, and be¬
neath the attention of all men of learning, the term chirur-
gery, in its most literal interpretation, was quite sufficient
to comprehend the duties of the degraded and uninform¬
ed surgeon, who had become a mere mechanic, attached to
and completely dependent on the learned and philosophic
physician. But the matured progress of the healing art
has, fortunately for science and humanity, rendered such
a definition of surgery in these days utterly untenable.
Its complete separation from medicine would now be at¬
tended with the utmost difficulty; nor is it desirable that
the attempt should be made, because its success, however
partial and imperfect, would be most hurtful to both. They
are now, and it is to be hoped will ever remain, one and
inseparable. Their principles are the same throughout,
and the exercise of their different branches requires the
same fundamental knowledge; but their details are so nu¬
merous and intricate as to render it most difficult, if not
impossible, for any one individual to cultivate all with
equal success. The consequence has been, that while the
theory and principles of physic and surgery remain united,
as constituting one and the same science, the practical
parts are now frequently separated into distinct professions,
each person adopting that department most congenial to
his pursuits, and for the management of which he con¬
ceives himself best qualified. The separation however is
not that of acquirements, but merely of practice. It should
never be forgotten, that the physician, before he can be
either accomplished or successful in his profession, must be
intimate with the principles, if not with the practice of sur¬
gery. And most certainly no one can ever lay just claim
even to the title of surgeon, far less hope for eminence or
success, unless he be equally qualified to assume both the
appellation and the employment of the physician.
Many and laboured have been the attempts to define sur¬
gery according to its present state, so as to prevent inter¬
ference with the department of physic. This example we
will not follow. The arrangement as to what is medical,
and what surgical, must in a great measure depend on cus¬
tom, not on fixed and permanent rules. The paths of the
practical surgeon and physician are distinct, but in their
course they must often cross each other; and these colli¬
sions, so far from being avoided, ought rather to be sought,
as probable sources of mutual benefit, so long as those
enlightened feelings are entertained, and that honourable
conduct pursued, which ought ever to distinguish the fol¬
lowers of a liberal, useful, and learned profession.
The limits allotted to this article not permitting us to
enter into the details of surgery, we must content ourselves
with a sketch of its history, and with some account of its
improved condition as it is at present practised.
Origin. That surgery is as old as man himself, that it was coeval
with his fallen state, there can be little doubt. The fall
entailed the frequent reception of injuries by external
violence; and to assuage their pain and remove their in-
vol. xx.
convenience, the ingenuity and contrivance of the sufferer Surgery,
were powerfully excited. Thus it would seem, that as to s—
antiquity of origin, surgery must take precedence of medi¬
cine. And after wars and dissensions began to prevail, and
wounds and injuries became both more frequent and more
deadly, it is most probable that to these the practitioners of
the healing art alone directed their attention, before the
nature of disease began to be understood, or its cure was
supposed to be within the reach of human means.
As to the state of surgery among the early Egyptians, we Early
know but little, except that it was customary, in the time of Egyptians.
Joseph, to embal m the dead; a process which appertains close¬
ly to both medicine and surgery. There are some grounds,
however, for suspecting that they were more conversant with
surgery than is generally supposed; for it is said that on
“ the ruined walls of the renowned temples of ancient
Thebes, basso-relievos have been found, displaying surgi¬
cal operations, and instruments not far different from some
in use in modern times.” Their medical practice, entirely
founded on incantation and astrology, was sufficiently simple.
They divided the body into thirty-six parts, believing in an
equal number of demons, to whom those parts w ere intrust¬
ed, and to invoke whose aid in sickness was the principal
duty of the physician, each spirit being called upon to cure
his own peculiar portion.
Among the Jews, the operation of circumcision was per-jews
formed, no doubt skilfully and dexterously, though with rude
implements, by the priesthood, an order which, for many
ages, and in many climes, conjoined the cure of the body
with that of the soul.
The earliest notice of this art is from the ancient Greeks, Greeks,
who, it is probable, had derived their medical traditions
from the Egyptians. They considered medicine to be of
divine origin; and its first professors, as they inform us,
were no less personages than gods and sons of gods.
Medicine and surgery, at their origin, were conjoined;
and both continued to be practised indiscriminately, until
separated by the Arabian school. Their complete estrange¬
ment occurred, as we have already stated, about the middle
of the twelfth century. At first, surgery chiefly occupied
the attention of the ancient leech, as the more certain and
more obviously useful branch of his profession; but ulti¬
mately it became very secondary to medicine when dignified
by philosophy and priestcraft.
Chiron the Centaur, born in Thessaly, is presumed to Chiron,
have been the father of surgery, celebrated for skilfully ap¬
plying soothing herbs to wounds and bruises. But his fame
is somewhat endangered by that of JEsculapius, the son of
Apollo, by some held to be the pupil of Chiron, by others,
his predecessor and superior. jEsculapius is supposed toiEscu-
have been deified, on account of his skill, about fifty years
before the Trojan war. His very existence how'evei has
been questioned. Apollo was the original god of physic
among the early Greeks; but he appears to have resign¬
ed in favour of JEsculapius, whose temples became the de¬
positories of medical and surgical knowledge; more parti¬
cularly those of Epidaurus, Cnidos, Cos, and Pergamus.
Certain it is, according to the testimony of Celsus, that Podalirius
iEsculapius is the most ancient authority in surgery. His and Ma-
immediate descendants, two sons, Podalirius and Machaon, cliaon>
have been immortalized by Homer. They followed Aga-B‘ c‘
memnon to the Trojan war, and there their services were so
highly valued as to secure them a not unconspicuous niche
among the heroes of the Iliad. Of the two, Machaon seems
to have been the more distinguished. When he is wounded
by Paris, the whole army is represented as interested in
5 K
810
SURGERY.
Surgerj. his recovery. Even the stern Achilles inquiies anxious-
  ly after “ the wounded offspring of the healing god ; and
the valiant Nestor, to whose care he is intrusted, is ex¬
horted to unwonted exertion in his behalf; “ for a leech
who, like him, knows how to cut out darts, and relieve the
smarting of wounds by soothing unguents, is to armies more
in value than many other heroes.” Podalirius enjoys the
distinction of being reputed the first of phlebotomists, and
probably the most successful, from his time to this ; having
opened a vein in either arm of the king of Caria’s daughter,
who had been severely injured by a fall from the house-top,
having, after her recovery, been rewarded with the hand
of the fair princess, and having been presented by her mu¬
nificent father with the Chersonese as her dowry. As to
medicine, they seem to have been either ignorant, or in no
great repute; for, on the breaking out of pestilence in the
Grecian camp, Homer neglects them entirely, and applies
at once to Apollo. And even their surgical attainments,
for which they are celebrated by him, seem to have ex¬
tended no farther than to the simple extraction of darts and
other offensive weapons, the checking of haemorrhage by
styptics or pressure, and the application of lenitive salves.
The poet takes notice of his warriors sustaining fracture
of the bones; but in such emergencies he adopts the same
course as in the pestilence, and invokes the aid of the non¬
professional deities; from which circumstance we may infer,
that in those days surgery had made but little advancement.
Asclepiades. For upwards of 600 years after the Trojan war, there are
scarcely any accounts of medicine and surgery. They seem
to have remained strangely stationary during the whole of
that period. Their practice was confined to the Asclepia¬
des, or reputed descendants of iEsculapius ; whose lore was
orally communicated from father to son in that family, until
they received an extraordinary impulse from the great Hip¬
pocrates, himself a branch of the family, and said to have
been the fifteenth in lineal descent from the deified foun¬
der. The Asclepiades, in the course of their monopoly,
established three schools of medicine, at Rhodes, at Cnidos,
and at Cos. The last gave Hippocrates to the world, and
thus attained a proud and enduring pre-eminence.
Pythagoras, Pythagoras was the first who brought philosophy to bear
b. c. 600. upon the practice of the healing art, and led the way in
raising it to the dignity of a science. Democritus, the happy
sage, likewise turned his attention to medicine as a branch
of general philosophy, and pursued it zealously. He lived
in terms of friendship with Hippocrates, by whom he was
held in great respect. By Pythagoras a school at Crotona
was founded, about the time of Tarquinius Superbus, espous¬
ing doctrines somewhat different from those of Cos and
Damocedes. Cnidos. It produced Damocedes, a contemporary of Py¬
thagoras, who seems to have practised in Athens, an ho¬
noured and successful surgeon. By Polycrates, king of
Samos, he wras presented with two talents of gold for having
cured him of a troublesome distemper. He was afterwards
takei captive by the Persians. Their king, Darius, was
intrusted to his care for a dislocated ancle, as well as the
queen, Atossa, for a cancer of the breast; and he was soon
loaded with honour and wealth on account of his wonderful
cures, performed after the Egyptian physicians, previously
in attendance, had signally failed.
But we cannot suppose such men as Damocedes and the
Asclepiades to have attained any great proficiency in sur¬
gery ; for the touch of a dead body was interdicted as a
profanation both by Jew and Greek, and consequently they
must have been almost entirely ignorant of anatomy. They
may have understood something of the skeleton, from their
practice amongst fractures and dislocations ; and they may
have formed some general idea of the viscera, from re¬
searches in comparative anatomy, and from instruction by
the Egyptians, whose practice in embalming afforded am¬
pler scope for observation. But the minute structure of the
400.
human body must have been to them a profound mystery. Surgery
And, knowing that anatomy is, was, and ever must be, the '"-''v'"—
foundation of true surgical knowledge, we cannot evade the
conviction that surgery, though occasionally successful and
honoured in ancient times, must have been nothing more
than a rude, imperfect, and uncertain art. The practice of
its professors seems to have been extremely limited, con¬
sisting of little more than the binding up of wounds, and the
staunching of haemorrhage by styptics and the cautery; the
extraction of darts and other missiles from the wounds wdiich
they had inflicted; phlebotomy, both general and local;
and cupping by scarification. Whether they practised the
capital operations or not, we are not informed; but it is
probable that their comparative ignorance of anatomy effec¬
tually deterred them from any extensive division of the soft
parts, as extremely hazardous and uncertain.
Hippocrates, born in the 80th Olympiad, upwards of 400 Hipppo
years before the Christian era, did more for medicine and crates
surgery than all who had preceded him ; and indeed few ofB'c'
those who have succeeded him have been of equal service
to the profession. He soon freed medicine in a great mea¬
sure from the absurdities with which ignorance and super¬
stition had invested it; and through a long, honoured, and
glorious life he set a splendid example of persevering in¬
dustry, philosophical research, and high moral w’orth. His
fame soon raised the Coan school far above its rivals. 1 hough
his anatomical knowledge seems little better than a blend¬
ing of ingenuity with error, yet he appears to have had some
indistinct notions of the circulation of the blood ; but Dr
Pitcairne, in his “ Solutio Problematis de Inventoribus,”
has sufficiently evinced that he was very far from anticipat¬
ing the great discovery of Harvey. With all his deficiencies,
and notwithstanding all the disadvantages under which he
laboured, so correct was his observation, and so faithful his
chronicling of disease, that many of his descriptions may be
fairly inserted in our modern nosologies. Though his atten¬
tion was chiefly directed towards the improvement and pro¬
motion of physic, now begirt with philosophy, and studied as
a science, and though his practice was principally confined
to the treatment of internal disease, yet he was not wholly
inattentive to surgery. And his practice seems to have been
tolerably bold and decisive ; for, in regard to external dis¬
ease, it was with him a maxim, that “ when medicine failed,
recourse should be had to the knife, and when the knife was
unsuccessful, to fire a substance of which all the ancient
doctors seem to have been particularly fond, from Prome¬
theus downwards. Hippocrates employed it not only in a
variety of diseases, but in various forms. Sometimes he ap¬
plied red-hot irons to the part; sometimes he raised a con¬
flagration on it, and of it, by a piece of wood dipped in boil¬
ing oil, or by burning a roll of flax after the manner of the
modern moxa. He also made use of tents and issues, as
more gentle means of counter-irritation. He seems to have
performed the capital operations with boldness and success,
excepting lithotomy, the practice of which appears to have
been confined to a few who made it their exclusive study.
He however recommends the removal of calculus, large and
firmly lodged in the kidney, by incision; adding, probably in
apology for the daring of the procedure, that otherwise there
are no hopes of a cure, and that the disease must prove fatal.
He reduced dislocations, and set fractures, but clumsily and
cruelly; extracted the foetus with forceps when necessary;
and both used and abused the trepan, employing it not only
in depression and other accidents of the cranium, but also
in cases of headach, and other affections to which the ope¬
ration was inapplicable. In cases of empyema and hydro¬
thorax, after ascertaining by percussion that fluid was pre¬
sent in the cavity of the chest, he did not hesitate to make
an incision between the ribs; and having allowed part of
the fluid to escape, he placed a tent in the wound, and by
withdrawing it regularly once a day, the whole was ulti-
Surgery
SURGERY.
Ctesias.
Plato,
b. c. 370.
Diodes
Carystus.
Praxa.
goras.
Aristotle.
^ mately evacuated. He seems to have been perfectly ac¬
quainted with tetanus and spontaneous gangrene; observ-
ing, that even minute wounds of tendinous parts, as the
fingers and toes, sometimes produce convulsions which ter¬
minate fatally ; and that black spots on the feet frequently
mcrease to extensive gangrene and incurable mortifications,
borne of his practices have been long and justly exploded,
some have been successfully continued, and others have,
after disuse, been revived as modern inventions. For ex-
e’i^S meth°d of ascertaining the presence or absence
of fluid in the chest was by percussion, and applying the
ear to the part, thus anticipating the use of the modern ste¬
thoscope. One of his modes of counter-irritation, we have
seen, was by burning flax on the part, as in the modern
moxa; and he strongly recommends the production of es¬
chars on the back and breast in the earlier stages of pul¬
monary disease, thus anticipating the supposed valuable
discoveries of a celebrated modern charlatan. His writings
are elegant, and well repay a careful perusal. By them
he made posterity his debtor ; his contemporaries were not
insensible to his merits, and endeavoured to reward them
during his life. The inhabitants of Argos voted him a
statue of gold; he was more than once crowned by the
Athenians, and, though a stranger, was initiated into the
most sacred mysteries of their religion, the highest distinc¬
tion which they could confer ; after his death, universal and
almost divine honours were paid to his memory ; temples
were erected to him, and his altars covered with offerings.
We have already seen that surgery had long been station¬
ary before the time of Hippocrates ; and it made but little
advancement during many succeeding generations. The
Asclepiades had confined the knowledge of medicine among
themselves; Hippocrates, however, gave oral instructions
in anatomy and the art of healing, and thus disclosed
its mysteries to the world. But few of his disciples seem
to have profited much by his liberality. One of them, his
kinsman Ctesias, we are told, acquired considerable renown
for his skill ; and having been taken prisoner by Artaxerxes
Mnemon, in a battle fought against his brother Cyrus, was
successful in curing him of a severe wound, and thus obtain¬
ed favour with his captor. Plato began to flourish about this
time, but though he was connected with medicine, we can¬
not lay claim to him as eminent in surgery; and he was more
famous for his philosophy than his physic. Perhaps the most
distinguished in surgery, among the more immediate suc¬
cessors of Hippocrates, was Diodes Carystus. He devoted
more attention to anatomy than any of his predecessors, was
curious in bandaging wounds of the head, and invented the
bellulon, an instrument for extracting darts. Carrying his
surgery into the practice of medicine, he was not very happy
in the result; from observing that external wounds, abscesses,
and inflammations were attended with fever, he supposed that
general fever was uniformly occasioned by one or more of
these causes operating internally. He followed Hippocrates
in practice, and, like him, cultivated his profession, “ not for
lucre or vain-glory, but from real love of the medical art,
and a pure spirit of humanity.” Praxagoras of Cos was the
last of the Asclepiades who succeeded in leaving a name be¬
hind him. As a surgeon he is reported to have been bold
in the extreme, incising the fauces freely, and excising por¬
tions of the soft palate, in bad cases of cynanche ; and mak¬
ing incisions into the bowels to remove obstructions, when
milder measures failed. Aristotle, the celebrated precep¬
tor of Alexander the Great, although not strictly in the
medical profession, was the promulgator of doctrines which
for a long time had a powerful effect on medicine. While
he followed out the general principles of the healing art, and
811
wa.s curious in anatomical research, he seems to have dis- Surgery,
darned to meddle with the practical details, and among the v
rest those of surgery.
On the dismemberment of the vast empire of Macedo-Ecynt.
ma after the death of Alexander the Great, learning took
up its chief abode at Alexandria, under the protection of
Ptolemy Soter. And here it was that popular prejudice b. c. 300.
hrst gave way, and permitted the examination of dead bo¬
dies, the greatest possible boon to the medical profession,
inasmuch as it removed what had hitherto been the most
serious obstacle to its advancement, ignorance of human
anatomy. Herophilus and Erasistratus, the two great heads Herophilua
of the Egyptian medical school, were the first who had an and Erasis-
opportunity of practising human dissection, the bodies oftratus'
criminals having been given to them for that purpose; and
they consequently not only corrected many errors, but
made numerous and important discoveries, in anatomy; thus
imparting a fresh stimulus, and affording a new and more
solid basis to both medicine and surgery. By some they
have been accused of carrying their enthusiasm in this in¬
quiry to such an extent as to “ open the bodies of living
criminals for the furtherance of their physiological views;”
but this is probably a mere exaggeration, originating in the
horror with which human dissection was at first regarded ;
a horror which unfortunately is not even in our day alto¬
gether extinguished, notwithstanding the recent legislative
enactments in favour of anatomical research. But we find
even these privileged men falling into most palpable mistakes;
for example, Herophilus plainly confounds the tendons and
ligaments with the nerves. Yet the fact that the names
which he gave to many parts still remain in use, will of itself
remind posterity how much they are indebted to him for his
anatomical labours. He was likewise one of the greatest
surgeons of ancient times, and, as well as Erasistratus, ac¬
quired as much fame for brilliant cures as for anatomical
knowledge. The surgical practice of the latter was cha¬
racterized^ by peculiar boldness and decision, and strongly
marked with the failing of his time and school, a love of
multiplying and inventing murderous implements, and the
relentless use of them. “ In schirrosities and tumours of
the liver, he did not scruple to make an ample division of
the integuments, and try applications to that viscus itself.
He followed the same practice in diseases of the spleen,
which he ^regarded as of little consequence in the animal
economy. And perhaps he was right in his supposition,
though not in his practice. In cases of retention of urine,
he made use of the particular catheter which long bore his
name. Xenophon of Cos, said to have been a follower ofXenoDhon
Erasistratus, seems to have been among the first who ar¬
rested haemorrhage from a member, by encircling it tightly
with a ligature. Mantius, a pupil of Herophilus, wrote aMantius.
treatise on surgical dressings, which he rendered compli¬
cated in the extreme. Another, Andreas of Carystus, wrote Andreas of
on the union of fractured bones, and invented several pon-Carystus.
derous machines for reducing luxations of the femur. In¬
deed the surgeons of the Alexandrian school were all dis¬
tinguished by the nicety and complexity of their dressings
and bandagings, of which they invented a great variety.
Among them, as in the time of Hippocrates, lithotomy
was practised by particular individuals, who devoted them¬
selves exclusively to that operation ; and we are told that
one of them, Ammonius, employed an instrument, by means Ammonius.
of which he broke down stones in the bladder, plainly anti¬
cipating Civiale, and furnishing a marked example to the pre¬
sent age of the truth of Solomon’s apophthegm, that “ there
is nothing new under the sun.”1 It is not improbable that
some of their other practices might have afforded equally
t M-nwS-ilIU!-tr?:ti0o of t.h!s is £iven hy Dr James Jolin*on, in the narrative of his visit to Tompeii. “ The Dilator or Sneculnm for
min ’a •elb8 °u the.fetrand obtained so much repute a few years ago, has its exact prototype in the Bourbon Museum at Nanles Tim
coincidence in such an ingenious contrivance would be absolutely miraculous; but unfortunately there is a key to the similitude,PWbich de-
SURGERY.
Home.
Archaga-
thus.
Asdepi-
aries,
96 b. c.
striking examples of this sometimes unpalatable truth ; but
unfortunately the greater part of the writings of the Alex¬
andrian school perished in the conflagration of the famous
national library in the time of Julius Caesar; a calamity
fraught with immense loss to the healing art, as well as to
almost every other branch of knowledge.
The arts and sciences followed the seat of empire in
its transfer to Europe under Julius Caesar, and Rome be¬
came the grand centre of intellectual illumination. Not¬
withstanding the shrewd sense displayed by the ancient
Romans in most matters, it is strange, yet true, that for
centuries all ranks of society, from the mere plebeian rabble
to the censor, had entertained an abhorrence of all practi¬
tioners of medicine and surgery, and trusted for cures to
spells and incantations. Indeed public edlicts were issued,
character. “ Nothing,” says he, “ brings men nearer to the Surgery,
gods, than by giving health to their fellow-creatures.” It
would thus seem that, in his time at least, the ancient
grudge against the doctors had abated in Rome. Among
the disciples and immediate followers of Asclepiades was
Cassius, described as latro-Sophista, who left behind him Cassius,
several works on anatomical and surgical subjects. In one
of the latter he distinctly accounts for wounds on one side
of the head producing paralysis on the other, from the de¬
cussation of the nerves ; a tolerable proof that he was not
only a good anatomist for the time, but also an observant
practitioner.
Rome itself did not produce a single medical practitioner Celsus.
of any reputation before the age of Aulus Cornelius Celsus,
although he himself chooses to be complimentary to some
* 1 * A    .*]   » n ... r~m C C ^ I ^ ■ ■« l » ^ « S* 4* « V M / l
discouraging all countenance to the professed exercise of of his immediate predecessors, “ 1 ryphon, Euelpistus, and
physic, and recommending faith in traditionary prescrip- Meges, the most learned of them all. Celsus, the contem-
tions and religious rites.” Cato the censor managed the porary of Horace, Virgil, and Ovid, likened to Hippocrates
sick of his own family according to the terms of this edict,
and gravely wrote down the words of incantation for curing
dislocation or fracture. For nearly the first 600 years of
its existence, Rome, accordingly, had no regular practi¬
tioner of medicine. The first we read of was Archagathus,
a Greek, from the Alexandrian school, who practised in
Rome, chiefly as a surgeon, during the consulates of Lu¬
cius JEmilius and Marcus Livius. At first his surgical skill
for the quantity of his sound practical information, and to
Cicero for the elegance of his style, lived in the reigns of
Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero, in the beginning of
the first century of Christianity, upwards of 150 years be¬
fore Galen.1 In his celebrated medical work, he places great
reliance on Hippocrates and Asclepiades, more particularly
the latter, and gives a complete and excellent digest of all
he true medical and surgical knowledge of his times, al-
obtained for him no inconsiderable fame, but the ancient though it is not certain that he himself either practised
prejudice soon revived in full vigour. An enraged populace medicine or operated in surgery. “ Of his surgical opera-
—perhaps not without some reason, for he seems to have tions and remarks, many are yet far from being obsolete,
been particularly fond of the knife and cautery—com- and impress us with a high idea of his ingenuity and judg-
pelled him not only to suspend his practice, but, changing ment. His mode of performing lithotomy (on the gripe)
his original title of “ healer of wounds” to that of “ execu- has been in recent times warmly defended by Heister, es-
tioner,” caused him to be banished from the Roman capi- pecially as applicable to children. He describes the ope-
tal. Afterwards, however, a native of Bithynia, assuming ration for cataract by depression, and the method of form-
the name of Asclepiades, established himself in tolerable ing an artificial pupil. The whole of his account of inju-
repute by virtue of insinuating manners, shrewd common ries of the head is admirable, and evinces wonderful tact
sense, and the performance of several fortunate cures “ tu- and discrimination. His xules for distinguishing fracture,
to, cito, et jucunde.” But with him we have little concern, and for the application of the trepan, have been highly
for his sagacity soon taught him that it was essential to his eulogized ; nor is what he says about contrecoups less ac-
welfare to avoid the unpopular practice of surgical opera- curate. He is the first who has remarked that there may
tions, and accordingly he confined himself entirely to the
apparently less hurtful administration of medicine. The
only important traces of his surgical practice are, that in
ascites he practised and recommended discharge of the ac¬
cumulated fluid by minute punctures of the abdominal pa-
rietes; and that for quinsy, which term probably compre-
be rupture of a vessel within the cranium without fracture
or depression.” And he is the first who recommended the
application of ligatures to a wounded artery, with the view
of arresting its haemorrhage, after pressure has failed. He
improved amputation, an operation then not much in use ;
and recommended its adoption in cases of gangrene from
hended many of the various acute diseases of the throat external causes. He is minute in his details as to the treat-
now known and distinguished, he not only employed bold
blood-letting, local and general, by the lancet and by cup¬
ping, but also had recourse to scarification of the fauces,
and even attempted laryngotomy. By novel and success¬
ful cures in his medical practice, and frequent indulgence
in skilful quackery, he obtained great personal reputa-
ment of fracture and dislocation; his description of car¬
buncle is good, and its treatment similar to that now' pur¬
sued, namely, free application of the strongest escharotics
to the gangrened part. He describes several species of
hernia, and gives directions for their reduction. “ It would
be endless however to particularise. Whoever wishes to
tion, and so far overcame popular prejudice as to establish know the exact state of surgical knowledge in the world at
a tolerably fair field in Rome for future practitioners. He the time of the Caesars, may turn to the pages of Celsus,
was the contemporary of Caesar, and the personal friend of with the hopes of a gratification which will not be disap-
Cicero. The latter is eloquent in his praise, and through pointed. - . . .
him seems to have formed a high estimate of the medical Aretaeus, born in Cappadocia, practised in Rome, proba-
stroys the charm of astonishment. A crafty Frenchman imitated from memory, and with some awkward deviations, the Specuium,
and passed it off as his own. Weiss improved upon the Frenchman, and hit upon the exact construction of the original 1 Many modern dis-
tovenes may i^gubj^ned to the second edition of a work of that learned Dane, entitled “ De Acia Dissertatio, ad
Lornelii Celsi mentem, qua simul universa Fibil* ratio explicatur.” Hafnke, 1672, 4to. We must likewise refer
to “Jo. Baptist* Morgagni in Aur. Corn. Celsum et Q. Ser. Samomcum Epistol*, m quibus de utnusque Auctons varus Editiombus, Li
bris quoque manuscriptif, et Commentatoribus disseritur.” Hag*-Com. 1724, 4to. The praenomen of Celsus appears to have been Aulus,
and not Aurelius, which is a “ nomen gentile.” See Fabricii Bibliotheca Latina, tom n. p. 37. edit. Ernesti.
2 He relates an interesting anecdote of Hippocrates, illustrative of his abuse of the trepan. Knowing and skilful as he was, he once
mistook a fracture of the skull for a natural suture; and was afterwards so ingenuous as to confess his mistake, and leave it on record,
this he adds, “ This was acting like a truly great man : little geniuses, conscious to themselves that they have noth ng to spare, cannot bear
the least diminution of their prerogative, nor suffer themselves to depart from any opinion which they have embraced how false and permc.-
ous soever that opinion may be; while the man of real ability is always ready to make a frank acknow e gemen o i errors, esp y
profession where it is of importance to posterity to read the truth:” a moral which cannot be too often forced upon the attention of the
present generation.
SURGERY.
813
Surgery.
Aretoeus,
A.l). OU-SO
Heliodo-
rus.
Antyllus.
Rufus, A.D
96-117.
Archi-
genes.
Galen,
A.D. 131.
bly about the time of Domitian. He was the first who made
use of blisters, using cantharides for that purpose. Dissec¬
tion in his time was prohibited under the severest penalties:
his anatomical knowledge was therefore neither profound
nor exact; “ nevertheless he had the sound penetration to
regard anatomy as the only legitimate basis on which either
medical or surgical science could rest.” Heliodorus, the ce¬
lebrated physician of the emperor Trajan, has left some ex¬
cellent observations on injuries of the head; and Antyllus,
almost a contemporary, was a zealous and successful surgeon.
He boldly recommends bronchotomy in cases of threatened
suffocation induced by disease of the throat; and, in inflam¬
matory affections of emergency, advises arteriotomy in pre¬
ference to venesection, showing that excessive loss of blood
thereby need not be dreaded, it being readily prevented by
dividing the artery completely across. He also alludes to
the operation for cataract by extraction, which he however
recommends very cautiously, and only when the cataract
is small. He obtained the radical cure of hydrocele by free
. incision of the parts. Rufus the Ephesian, who seems also
to have lived in the time of Trajan, was a zealous anato¬
mist and surgeon, and has left a treatise on diseases of the
kidneys and bladder. About the commencement of the
second century, Archigenes the Syrian settled in Rome, and
distinguished himself both in medicine and surgery. His
writings, which were chiefly confined to the latter subject,
are unfortunately lost. Between Celsus and Galen, how¬
ever, we meet with no great Roman writer on medicine or
surgery. These were among the last of the liberal arts that
were encouraged by the Romans; and the proud patricians
refusing to educate any of their family to such a profession,
the medical practitioners of Rome were at first importa¬
tions from Greece and Alexandria, and afterwards self-edu¬
cated slaves and freedmen.1
Claudius Galenus was born at Pergamus, in Asia Minor,
in the 131st year of the Christian era. After studying at
Smyrna and Corinth, he completed his medical education
at Alexandria, and ultimately settled in Rome, where he
soon obtained a great reputation, both as a successful prac¬
titioner, and as a public lecturer on anatomy. Professional
jealousy of his talents, however, drove him from Rome, to
which he did not return until recalled by Marcus Aurelius.
Shortly afterwards he was appointed physician to the young
emperor Commodus, with whom, as well as with the pub¬
lic, he rose to great favour. A man of great erudition, bril¬
liant genius, and indomitable industry, he produced works
which exerted a most powerful and extensive influence over
medical practice. He has the merit of rescuing medical in¬
quiry from the chaos in which he found it, and restoring it to
the paths of light and nature. His fame indeed was so great
as to prove, in one sense, detrimental to the advancement
of the medical profession, inasmuch as his opinions were re¬
ceived as oracular in the schools of all the civilized coun¬
tries for no less a period than 1300 years, thus seriously re¬
tarding further investigation. His works were both nume¬
rous and elaborate; but unfortunately he seems to have been
debarred from the study of the groundwork of his profes¬
sion, human anatomy. His dissections appear to have been
limited to the simiae and other mammiferous animals, as
most resembling the human structure, though on one occa¬
sion “ he felicitates himself on the opportunities he had en- Surgery,
joyed of examining two skeletons preserved in Alexandria,
and recommends all anxious to obtain a thorough know¬
ledge of osteology to repair to that city.” In his early years,
he practised surgery at Pergamus with marked success;
but in Rome he seems to have confined himself almost en¬
tirely to medicine, excepting the occasional performance of
phlebotomy: probably the valorous Romans had not yet
lost their hatred and dread of the terrible operations of
surgery. Like others, however, he was still so much of a
general practitioner, as to practise pharmacy as well as me¬
dicine, with a little of surgery; and he himself informs us,
that he had a drug-shop in the Via Sacra. “ He establish¬
ed two general principles as the basis of all surgery—syn¬
thesis, or the reunion of parts—diaeresis, or their complete
division, as by amputation or extirpation. In four cases he
detected luxation of the femur backwards, a variety not
mentioned by Hippocrates; and records two instances of
spontaneous luxation of the same bone. He also treats of
more than one species of hernia. But although in his writ¬
ings we meet with a few bold chirurgical attempts, as in
the application of the trepan to the sternum in a case of
empyema, yet it must be confessed that by far the greatest
part of his surgery seems to have been confined to fomen¬
tations, ointments, and plasters, for external affections, to¬
gether with the art of bandaging, a love for which he ne¬
cessarily acquired at the Alexandrian schools ; and the
employment of complicated machinery in fracture and dis¬
locations.” His researches were not limited to medical
science, but comprehended literature and philosophy.2
The early Christians unfortunately appear to have in¬
jured medicine and surgery, by attributing to martyrs and
their relics the power of healing wounds and curing dis¬
eases ; “ acknowledging the active interference of demons
and blessed spirits in the affairs of men, and leaving true
philosophy in total abandonment.” A Cimmerian gloom
was then fast overspreading the world, by which science
and art were destined to be long obscured; and short¬
ly after the time of Galen, we accordingly find the medi¬
cal along with the other sciences encompassed by the dark
clouds of ignorance and barbarism. One or two nam«s
however occur worthy of notice, but more from having
preserved than advanced medical knowledge. Oribasius, a
pupil of Zeno, lived in the time of the emperor Julian, whose A d. 35a’
friendship he enjoyed, and became a celebrated practition¬
er, as well as of great importance in the state. His works
are principally compilations, though judicious and useful.
His surgery is marked with timidity, discouraging opera¬
tions, except in most extreme cases, and is chiefly confined
to unguents and embrocations. He abstracted blood locally,
by making deep and extensive scarifications, or rather in¬
cisions, with the knife; a proceeding somewhat resembling
the important modern improvement in the treatment of
erysipelas, but adopted under different circumstances, and
with other objects in view.
During the fifth century the west was repeatedly invaded
by the Huns, Goths, Alans, and Lombards. Science greatly
suffered in consequence ; and no name worthy of remem¬
brance is to be found, until, nearly two centuries after Ori-
basius, appeared Aetius, a native of Amida, and a pupil of the ^
1 On this subject, a remarkable controversy took place in England during the earlier part of last century. It was occasioned by Dr Mead’s
“ Oratio Anniversaria Harveiana, in Theatro R. Medicorum Londinensium Collegii habita, ad diem xvm. Octobris, mdccxxui. Adjecta est
Dissertatio de Nummis quibusdam a Smyrnaeis in Medicorum honorem percussis.” Lond. 1724, 4to. This was followed by a publication of
Dr Middleton, “De Medicorum apud veteres Romanos degentium Conditione Dissertatio; qua, contra viros celeberrimos Jacobum Sponium
et Richardum Meadium, servilem atque ignobilem earn fuisse ostenditur.” Cantab. 1726, 4to. To this dissertation Dr Ward of Gresham
College published an answer in 1727 : Middleton published the first part of a defence in 1728, and Ward having rejoined in the course of the
same year, his antagonist prepared a second part, of which Dr Heberden printed a few copies in 1761, eleven years after the author’s death.
2 Here we must refer our classical readers to a most important collection published under the title of “ Medicorum Graecorum Opera quae
exstant. Editionem curavit D. Carolus Gottlob Kuhn, Professor Physiologiae et Pathologiae in Literarum Universitate Lipsiensi Publicus Ordi-
narius.” Lipsiae, 1821-30, 26 tom. 8vo. Three of the volumes are each divided into two parts. This collection includes the works of Hip¬
pocrates, Aretaeus, Dioscorides, and Galen. Dioscorides was edited by Sprengel, and the other writers by Kuhn.
814
SURGERY.
Surgery. Alexandrian school. “ His surgical writings are copious
^ and valuable. His opinions were guided by experience,
and his methods of management and cure are characterised
by much caution and discrimination. We find a variety of
surgical queries and suggestions which had escaped Celsus
and Galen, as well as the description of several diseases
which have been omitted by Paulus iEgineta. He recom¬
mended and practised scarification of the legs m anasarca,
and made free use of both the actual and potential caute¬
ries ; he cut out heemorrhoidal tumours; operated for aneu¬
rism'; tried to dissolve urinary calculi by the administration
of internal remedies ; and has given a series of interesting
chapters on inflammation of the intestines followed by ab¬
scess, on encysted tumours, on the varieties of hernia, on
diseases of the testicle and castration, on the pricks of the
nerves and tendons, and in fact on almost every important
branch of surgical knowledge. If, mixed up with these, we
find some things which the matured experience of ages has
abolished, it is less to be marvelled at, than that surgery
was already enriched with so many valuable facts and ob¬
servations.” He makes no reference to the reduction of
fractures and dislocations, whence it has been plausibly
inferred, “ that in all likelihood quacks were at that time
in complete possession of this branch of practice. Better
were it for society that it was quite out of their hands now!”
He seems to have been the first to open up a field of me¬
dical inquiry, which has since been so successfully culti¬
vated,—the nature and composition of urinary calculi. He
appears also to have turned much of his attention to dis¬
eases of the eye, and is the first who speaks of the dracun-
Alexander, cuius or Guinea-worm. Alexander of Trallis, a famous
a. d. 527- physician in the time of Justinian, about the middle of the
565. sixth century, was an author ot more originality than either
Oribasius or Aetius. He wrote on diseases of the eye, and
on fractures; but both treatises have been lost, which is
the more to be regretted, as, with this exception, he con-
Paulus fined himself entirely to internal disease. The celebrated
JEgineta, Paulus jEgineta, also of the Alexandrian school, lived about
seventh the middle of the seventh century, and made both large
eentnry. and vaiuable contributions to surgery. He frequently per¬
formed the operations which he describes, and abandoned
the labours of the mere theorist, for the more valuable re¬
sults of practical observation and experience. “ His sixth
book has been considered by many, and not without rea¬
son, as the best body of surgical knowledge, previous to the
revival of letters.” He recommended bleeding from the
immediate neighbourhood of the part affected, in piefer-
ence to general blood-letting, because more effectual; and,
for the like reason, opened the temporal artery in cases of
very severe ophthalmia. He had recourse to copious ve¬
nesection, with the view of accelerating painful descent of
calculus in the ureter. He opened internal abscesses by
caustics, and defined the points at which he thought it
advisable to perform paracentesis in the different alleged
species of ascites. In lithotomy, having first endeavoured
to ascertain the situation of the calculus by the rectum, he
made his incision, not in the centre of the perineum, as re¬
commended by Celsus, but to one side of the raphe, as is
now practised. Of the impropriety of extensive incision of
the bladder he seems to have been well aware, directing
that the external wound should be much freer than the in¬
ternal, and that the latter should be in extent merely suf¬
ficient to admit of the passage of the stone. While Celsus
limited the operation to patients between nine and fourteen
years of age, he sanctions its performance after the age of Surgery,
puberty, but admits that the chances of success increase''-"■'V-—'
with the youth of the patient. He described more than
one variety of aneurism, pointing out those cases in which
he thought it advisable to attempt a cure by operation ;
and extended this to the aneurisms of the head and joints,
excepting only those of the groin, arm-pit, and neck, in¬
stead of confining it to the tumours of the arm alone, as
had been done by Aetius. All aneurisms, excepting aneu¬
rism by anastomosis, which he clearly and accurately dis¬
tinguished, he conceived to originate in rupture of the
coats of the artery. He performed extirpation of the mam¬
ma by crucial incision, and practised both laryngotomy and
tracheotomy. He is the first who seems to have performed
the latter operation as a means of carrying on respiration
during occlusion of the larynx, but naturally enough falls
into the error of transverse instead of longitudinal incision.
He describes different species of hernia, and did not hesi¬
tate to operate when the tumour became strangulated. He
is also the first who treats of fracture of the patella. He
was pre-eminent as an accoucheur, and was the originator
of the obstetric operation of embryotomy.1 From the time Actuarlus*
of Paulus, we find no Greek or Roman surgeon of note,
until the appearance of Actuarius, a Greek, who practised
with great distinction at Constantinople, probably about the
beginning of the twelfth century, but at what exact period
it is impossible to ascertain. Among his writings are
found several surgical treatises, which however possess no
greater merit than as compilations from previous authors.2
Having thus traced surgery from its origin, through the Arabia.^
Egyptian, Greek, and Roman dynasties, we come to notice A'D‘
the prolongation of its feeble existence in Arabia.1 From
Alexandria, captured by the Saracens under Amrou in 640,
knowledge was gradually communicated to Arabia. Its people
became acquainted with medicine through the medium of
translations of the Greek authors ; and the “ seat of learn¬
ing was transferred, for a time, from beneath the shadow ot
the cross to the empire of the crescent; from the classic
shores of Italy and Greece, to the warlike followers of Ma¬
homet, and the fiery descendants of Ishmael.” Many va¬
luable manuscripts, rescued from the savage destruction of
the Alexandrian library, were carefully transcribed, or trans¬
lated into the Syriac or Arabic languages, and dispersed in
various directions. The first Arabic translation was made
about the year 683, by Maserjawaihus, a native of Syria;
but the most eminent in this labour was Honain, called, by
way of eminence, “ the translator,” a Christian, born at Hira
in 764. Towards the end of the eighth century, a college
was founded at Bagdat by the Caliph Almanzor; and there
medicine obtained a permanent footing, under the fostering
care of the far-famed Caliph Haroun al Raschid. Public
hospitals and laboratories were founded by him for the
benefit of students, who are said to have amounted at one
time to no fewer than six thousand, consisting chiefly of
Christians banished on account of their religion; and the
Caliph Almamon surpassed even his predecessors in muni¬
ficent patronage, extended to every department of art and
science, and in unwearied exertions to restore and propa¬
gate the various branches of learning. By supplication he
prevailed upon the Grecian emperors to send him many
works in philosophy; and, employing the best interpreters
that he could find, ordered all these books to be translated,
and encouraged the industrious study of them by his own
personal example. The medical school at Jondisabour, the
* Mr Francis Adams, a very erudite surgeon practising in the vicinity of Aberdeen, has published the first volume of The Medical Mork*
of Paulus .cEgineta, the Greek Physician, translated into English : with a copious commentary, containing a comprehensive view of the know¬
ledge possessed by the Greeks, Romans, and Arabians, on all subjects connected with medicine and surgery. Lond 1834, 8vo
* Le Clerc, Histoire Ue la Mddecine. Geneve, 1696, 8vo. Amst 1723, 4to. Fremd’s History of Physick, from the time of Galen to the
beginning of the sixteenth century. Lond. 1725-6, 2 vols. 8vo. Le Clerc only continues the history till the age of Galen. The literary his
tory of the Greek physicians may be sought in the Bibliotheca Grceca of Fabncius.
SURGERY. 815
Surgpry. capital of Chorassan, established by Sapores the First as
-v'"*" early as the end of the third century, had by this time risen
to great celebrity; and from it Rhazes, Hally Abbas, and
Avicenna derived their medical education. Mesue lived
during the caliphate of Haroun al Raschid, in the end of
the eighth century, and Serapion during that of Almamon,
about a century later; both eminent medical men in their
Rhazes, time, but both pure physicians. The first Arabian worthy
A.n. 852- in the surgical department was the celebrated Rhazes, who
932. presided over an hospital at Bagdat in the end of the ninth
and beginning of the tenth centuries. His works are not
remarkable for anatomical knowledge, which is not surpris¬
ing, since the study of anatomy was strictly forbidden by
the Mahommedan religion, and consequently the Arabians
had to rest contented with the writings of the Greeks
on that subject. “ One of their religious prejudices against
dissection was, that the soul did not instantly forsake the
body, but lingered in some particular portion of it for some
time after apparent dissolution, so that the dismemberment
of it might be a species of hideous martyrdoma very
sufficient reason why a professor of such a belief should
strenuously object to the anatomization of himself and his
friends. Rhazes is the first who has described spina ven-
tosa and spina bifida. Of the real nature of the latter, how¬
ever, he does not seem to have had any clear idea. Re¬
garding cancer, he advised that the knife should never be
used except when the disease was limited, and the whole
tumour could be completely removed; condemning the op¬
posite procedure as cruel and unavailing; an opinion which
after-experience has shown to be most just and true. In
bites from rabid animals, he first cauterized the wounds,
and then prescribed emetics to expel the “ black bilean
evacuation considered most essential to the cure. His ac¬
count of hernia is better than any to be found in the Greek
writers. His works on surgery, however, are little more
than compilations from Hippocrates, Oribasius, Aetius, and
Paulus. His confidence in oculism does not seem to have
been great; for, having in his old age become blind from
cataract, he could not, though urged, be prevailed upon to
undergo an operation for its removal. In his time lithoto¬
my, and some other operations, seem to have been entirely
Hally Ab- in the hands of juggling impostors. Hally Abbas, surnamed
bas* the Magician, on account of the extent of his knowledge
and acquirements, lived in the end of the tenth century.
a.d. 980. His great work, the Al-meleky, written about the year
980, is, in its anatomical and physiological department, a
mere transcript from the Greeks; and his surgery possesses
but few peculiarities. “ From the idea that caustics were
efficacious when a redundancy of the humours flowed to a
particular part, he recommended their application for the
cure of hydrocele. In the management of dropsical affec¬
tions his attention was always directed to the remote causes;
and he preferred puncturing in the linea alba, a little below
Avicenna, the umbilicus, for the relief of ascites.” Avicenna, who
divides with Rhazes the honour of having first introduced
chemistry into physic, flourished later than the two preced¬
ing Arabians. He was termed, in his day, the Prince of
Physicians, and seems to have been regarded as almost
miraculous for the extent and variety of his knowledge.
a d. 980- He was born in 980, and died in 1036, without a rival, either
1036. in the medical profession, or in general science. In his
great medical work, the Canon, the surgical department
is not altogether forgotten, but holds a second place to phy¬
sic ; indeed, before the appearance of Albucasis, surgery
seems to have been all but extinct amongst the Arabians.
He has distinguished between closure of the pupil and ca¬
taract, and in operating for the latter recommends depres¬
sion ; extraction he considers a very dangerous experiment.
It is probable that to him we owe the first use of the flexi¬
ble catheter. His works are said to have remained the ora¬
cles of medical knowledge for nearly six hundred years.
Albucasis, who died in 1122, exerted himself more than his Surgery,
predecessors in behalf of surgery, which, by his own ac-
count, he found in a most deplorable condition; and he ^s^DUji22
chiefly distinguished as a surgical writer. Cauteries and caus¬
tics seem to have been his favourite remedies; and he becomes
enraptured when speaking of the “divine and secret virtues”
of fire surgically employed. The actual cautery he looked
upon with veneration, and describes more than fifty affec¬
tions in which his experience had found it beneficial. He
is minute in his directions for its application, and forbids its
use, “ except by persons acquainted with the anatomy of the
frame, and the position of the nerves, tendons, veins, and
arteries from which latter circumstance some idea may be
formed of the extent to which he himself was in the habit
of roasting his unfortunate patients. He checked arterial
haemorrhage by his favourite method of cauterization, but
also employed styptics, as well as complete division of the
vessel, and ligature. He is supposed to have been the first
to remark, that it is by the formation of a coagulum in the
orifice of an artery that its calibre is closed and haemorrhage
arrested. He has described a particular instrument of his
own for the cure of fistula lachrymalis, and the needle used
by the surgeons of Irak for cataract. He speaks of operat¬
ing for the relief of hydrocephalus, but the success of the
practice does not seem to have been greater then than in its
revival in our own time; for he confesses that he knew of but
one successful case, and therefore does not recommend the
operation. He seems to have been conversant with the mode
of removing tumours by ligature when the knife is inex¬
pedient ; he advises amputation in gangrene of the extre¬
mities ; and is the first who has described the mode of ex¬
tracting calculus by incision in the female. His method of
lithotomy resembled that practised by Paulus zEgineta;
and, like him, he seems to have been bold in puncturing
and excising the tonsils, removing the uvula when obsti¬
nately relaxed, and extracting polypous tumours from the
fauces. He mentions bronchocele as occurring most fre¬
quently among women ; but, fond of the knife and cautery
as he was, he does not seem to have employed either for
the removal of that tumour; indeed he tells us of “ an
ignorant operator who,” in attempting extirpation of a bron¬
chocele, “ by wounding the arteries of the neck, killed the
patient upon the spot.” He invented the probang, for dis¬
lodging foreign bodies from the gullet; and in wounds of
the intestines practised union of the divided parts by suture
more than once with success. Though thus bold in his
operations, and, like all the Arabians, too fond of the
employment of instruments, he was not however without
judgment and caution. For example, he condemns tra¬
cheotomy as worse than useless when the inflammatory
affection of the windpipe is acute, and has extended to the
bronchi; an opinion which is acknowledged as true, though
unfortunately not always followed in the present day. And
he exceeds even Rhazes in his dislike to operative inter¬
ference with cancerous tumours, declaring that he never
either cured, or saw cured, a single instance of that disease;
a conclusion too nearly consistent with the history of that
most implacable malady in all succeeding ages. His re¬
marks on abscesses are most judicious; directing particular
attention to their situation, and recommending their being
early opened, whether “matured” or not, when in the neigh¬
bourhood of joints or other important parts, which would
be injured by their continuance; a rule of practice which,
if more faithfully followed, would materially diminish the
number of diseased joints and bones. He also advised what
has since been so much insisted on by Mr Abernethy, that
when the abscess is very large, its contents should be eva¬
cuated by degrees. He is the only one among the anci¬
ent writers on surgery who has described the instruments
used in each particular operation. Avenzoar, a Spanish Aveuzoar.
Arab, practised physic with distinction, about the beginning
816
SURGERY.
Surgery, of the twelfth century, at Seville in Andalusia. He describes
'   inflammation and abscess of the mediastinum, from which
he had himself suffered; and mentions a case of abscess of
the kidney, from which fourteen pints of matter were eva¬
cuated. He speaks of bronchotomy as expedient m dan¬
gerous cases of inflammation of the tonsils : and in stricture
of the gullet proposes three modes of treatment; the occa¬
sional passage of a tin or silver tube ; the use of a milk bath,
that nutritious particles may be taken up by the pores on
the skin; and the injection of nutritious fluids by the rec¬
tum. He also details cases of “ rupture, fracture of the hip¬
bone, wounds of the arteries and veins, tumours, and other
varieties of surgical disease, which he appears to have un¬
derstood well, and treated with discretion.” He does not
complain, like Rhazes, that lithotomy was in the hands of
mountebanks, but tells us that the Arabians then reckon¬
ed such operations “ filthy and abominable, and unfit for
any man of character to performand held that “ no reli¬
gious man, according to the law, ought so much as to view
Averrhoes, the genitals.” The brightest name in the history of Ara-
a. d. 1206. bian philosophy is that of Averrhoes, the pupil of Avenzoar,
born at Cordova about the middle of the twelfth century,
and said to have died in the year 1206. But he cultivated
the study of medicine only as a branch of general philoso¬
phy, and surgery he seems to have altogether neglected.
Such were the Arabians. Ot these, Albucasis was the
most famous in surgery, as Celsus had been among the
Romans, and Paulus flEgineta among the Greeks. But
even he could not escape the unfortunate failing of the
Saracenic school; endless invention of manifold and com¬
plicated instruments, attaching tar too much importance
to the mechanical part of their profession, and mistaking
the inspiration of terror and infliction of cruelty for ener¬
getic and judicious surgery. In order, for example, to
arrest haemorrhage from a wounded surface, if time piessed
and assistants were scarce, it was not uncommon to dip
the part into boiling pitch, a liquid which was then digni¬
fied with the appellation of a styptic. They however sys-
tematically divided physic, surgery, and pharmacy into
three distinct professions; and so, by commencing the
division of labour, may be considered as having done
something not unimportant towards the ultimate advance¬
ment of medical knowledge. “ The last traces of their
intellectual illumination appeared among the Spanish Moors
in the thirteenth century, when the Christian arms ^wmg
become more and more powerful, they were compelled to
substitute the field for the study—the sword for the Pen—
and, before an overwhelming opposition, were at length
driven from a region whose fields they had tilled, and whose
olives they had gathered, for a thousand years. . vv ith the
decline of the Saracenic school, the daylight of science went
down over the nations; and an intellectual darkness, which
endured for three hundred years, enveloped the general
face of society. All the fountains of science were dried up,
and the world seemed retrograding into the unillunnned
chaos of ignorance.”1 * >
School of A knowledge of the Greek and Arabian systems ot me-
Salerno. dicine was introduced into Italy, at Salerno, in the begin¬
ning of the eleventh century; and this school soon rose to Surgery,
celebrity as a seat of medical learning. In the time of the
Crusades, Salerno was a place of great resort for warriors
of all nations passing between Europe and Palestine; and
by these wanderers, on their return, the light of medical
science was thence slowly conveyed over Europe. It ob¬
tained the privileges of a university ; but the medical school
of Salerno did not long retain its high reputation. In mo¬
dern times, it is chiefly remembered on account of the
Regimen Sanitatis Salernitanum, a singular production, of
which more than one hundred and sixty editions are known
to have been published. Though written in the name of
the Schola Salernitana, it has generally been ascribed to
Joannes de Milano. The English king to whom it is
addressed is supposed to have been Robert of Normandy,
whose claims to the English crown were recognised by
some of his contemporaries. The poem opens with these
lines:
Anglorum Regi scripsit Sell ok tota Salerni.
Si vis incolumem, si vis te reddere sanum,
Curas tolle. graves, irasci crede profanum,
Parce mero, coenato parum, non sit tibi vanum
Surgere post epulas, somnum fuge meridianum.
Non mictum retine, nec comprime fortiter anurn.*
In the twelfth century, the Jews practised medicine, not
only among their own tribes, but also among the Moors and
Christians; and though, like all others of this age, merely
treading in the beaten track of the Greeks and Arabians,
yet, from their superiority in such learning, they came to be
reputed the most skilful practitioners. About the middle
of that century, as has already been stated, surgery was
completely separated from physic, by the edict of the
Council of Tours prohibiting the clergy,3 who then shared
with the Jews the practice of the healing art in Christian
Europe, from in any way causing the effusion of blood, at
least as a means of curing bodily ailment. Surgery was
in consequence abandoned to the uneducated laity, and
sunk to a deplorable state of prostration ; it became a
mere matter of plasters and unguents; and if any thing
happened to be written on the subject, it was but a bad
compilation from the Arabians.4 We shall however notice
some of the more remarkable events in connection with
it during its temporary abasement. In the year 1271, theA. D. 1271.
foundation of the College of Surgeons at Paris was laid
by Pitard, a surgeon of eminence in those days, and whose
enthusiasm effected something towards raising his humbled
profession. About the same time lived Gulielmus de Sa-
liceto, a professor at Verona, said to have been “ a power¬
ful man” in both surgery and medicine. He seems to have
earnestly dissuaded men from the copying and study of
books in preference to practical experience, and he himself
set a better example. In our own country Gilbertus Angli-
canus is the first name connected with surgery; but he
seems to have been little more than a compiler from the
Arabians. He lived about the beginning of the fourteenth Fourteenth
century ; and shortly after him appeared John of Gaddes-century,
den, author of the Rosa Anglica, and said to have been
an erudite and ingenious man, as well as a skilful practi-
I Moir’s Outlines of the Ancient History of Medicine. Edinb. 1831, 16to. Of this work we have not scrupled to make free use in the
course of the preceding observations. he preservation 0f Health, in rhyming Latin verse, addressed by the School of Salerno to
RobMt^M^Normandy.^son'^f^Wniiam^he Conqueror, with an ancient translation; and an introduction and notes by Sir Alexander Croke,
D.C.L and F.A.S. Oxford, 1830, 12mo.^ medicine as their peculiar privilege, and, using it chiefly as a means of personal power and
. ra.e early c|ergy claimed the P and jmp0Sture. It was to check this that the Roman council assembled by Pope Innocent
frin nsrthrltenefwhh the severest penalties those monks and canons who applied to the practice of medicine, “ neglecting the
1 , \ ’ “r,,.1 u 11 . , V i,i;no. thp delusive hone of health in exchange for ungodly lucre. But even this, though
foHroewedbvCtthemdrer percmptoryedict'^af Tours Tn 1163, where Alexander III. presided, did not make them altogether forego what they
found so co^venknt and profitabL It was necessary to repeat the edict in 1179 and 1216; but notwithstanding, the monks continued still
to practise physic, and it was chiefly by their evil influence that the school of Salerno was brought to decay.
4 The writers of that age were aptly termed by Severinus. Arabist®.
SURGERY.
817
1-150.
1539.
dTcL V ? 61 ° fourteenth century, Guy The most conspicuous name in this new era of sur^ry is Surgery.
—v 'de Chauhac practised with renown at Avignon, and is that of Ambrose Pare, a Frenchman. In this countrf su^
In hisUG/»d °ne °f ^ reviV,erf of the ^nguishing art.” gery was then sadly depressed, having retrograded since the A‘ Par<S*
.hlSt°ry. °f th,e fat" °f SurSery in his time of John of Ardern. Its list of practitioners comprised
y, we find the first mention of the Caesarean operation, barbers, farriers, sow-gelders, cobblers, and tinkers- and it
su^eon^H7 ^ i ^ °f “ an English is not matter «f-rprife that from amongThese no nlme has
be feTrde?T W h S‘mPhcity and honesty, and may been handed down as worthy of remembrance. The com-
his nrSr V reviver1.0f] surSery that country. In bination of the practice of surgery with the more harmless
of fistTT he was Pf^harty successful in the treatment manipulations of the barber, wasiiot confined however to
VatsTTp T0’ T thpeby aCqmred a great rePutation. this island, but existed also in France, and conTnued fn
a esco de laranta, a Portuguese, practised at Montpel- both countries for upwards of 200 years The (Treat Pare
her and wrote on surgery in the beginning of the fifteenth does not reject the appellation ofbarber-suTeTn as aT
century. He was the first who proposed the cure of can- plied to himself; nor does he seem to think that there w
CZ by the aPPllcation of arsenic. About the middle of any thing derogatory in the title He was surgeon sT!
the same century, lithotomy, the practice of which had cessively to Henry'the Second Francis thT Sernnd
hitherto been confined to itinerant and ill-informed opera- Charles the Ninth, and Henry the Third, of France • and
/-i f* was restored to the regular profession by Germain followed the French armies m all their campaio-ns down to
ElPVPntahFrTrhfiSTge0n’-hl§h in faV0Ur with Louis the the battle of Moncontour in 1569. His consequent expe-
Eleventh. He first contrived to witness the operation by rience of gunshot and other wounds, on the field of battle
e itinerants, then practised it on the dead body, and at naturally directed his attention to the subject of hmmor’
last Perf0rmed it successfully on a condemned criminal rhage; and it is to him thTwe Le the rivitaf and”ml
t0 T affllcted Wlth stone> and who con- provement of the method of arresting bleedino1 from arteries
doned if hpTe,g° T 0£eratl0n 0n c.ondltion of being par- by ligature, and discontinuance of the cauteries and styp-
doned if he survived. His success, in having thus doubly tics, which, to the disgrace of sureerv had hithprtn hJL
saved life, obtained for Colot much renown; and litho- in exclusive use for
ke? ThTfiftLnTrT 3 regUlar ^ °f SUrglcal PraC- kind t0 abandon their customs, that the improve-”
. I fie fifteenth century contains other tw o events im- ment of Pare was not sanctioned till after mneti ^ a
portant to surgery ; the discovery of the art of printing, about persecution, directed both against himself and his discovery-
the year 1450, which gave a new impulse to science and lite- indeed so bitter and unrelenting were his jealous brethren’
me, y rendering the accumulated stores of knowledge that he was compelled for his own safety to adduce o-arbled
ore accessible ; and the importation of the venereal disease and incorrect extracts from Galen and other ancients in
inaIthAmen//a’bythfbrStdnC0Vereiu0fthatC0ntinent’giv' pr0of that t0 them> and not t0 him> the invention was’ to
Z T? nge,aT^ttheyear 1492-3 In be referred* Sofar hewas less in error than he himself
century also the Turks captured Constantinople, thus supposed, for we have already stated that he has merelv the
overthrowing the last remains of the eastern empire; and merit of reviving the use of the ligature? Celsus dTst nctlv
y e mU tltude °f Cbnstians who fled from that city many advises its employment when pressure fails to stop arterial
manuscripts of the Greek medica writers were brought hemorrhage; and Albucasis TmetimeTcondeTended to
Europe’.and Heir *1 S °W y dlSSeminated over £se instead of hia favourite cautery and cruel styptics.
tj.P, ‘ , , , , Pare, however, was amply repaid by^ future fame fnr tho
H.thertosurgerycanscarcdylaycklmtoanactualrevival. opposition which he had at first stisSined. He rose to an
Occasional attempts had been made to raise it from its low unparalleled height of popularity with the army bv whom
Thew’ frved 5!ve- At le,n«th’ hower> ” he absolutely adored.P On Le 000^00 hism^nre
It. S B,° the s'xte“tI> century, the practitioners of sence among the garrison of a beteagurcd city about to cani-
he healing art were happily convinced that the observa- tulate, re-animated the troops to such an extent th£ their
^n, \aT T uUper,°Dr ‘0 fro"1 «'C an- resistance became more energetic than Sfore and he
d . ? TV^T”’ a1 Gre,e':1 they COnse- besieg!nS army perished beneath the walls By Ms so7e-
quently ceased to tread blindly and servilely in the foot- reigns he was also highly esteemed. From the eeneral
steps of their predecessors, and a new era arose to the massacre on the fearful night of St Bartholomew he was
profession. About the same time Vesalms gave birth to rescued by the personal exertions of Charles the Ninth his
anatomy properly so called ;* illuminated by which science, great merits being appreciated even by that weak and erne
surgery became a worthy object of pursuit to men of monarch. But he was not content rvith the respect and
?rednt:,Iand eddUCra,10n’a?d,Unde; th?,v1CUI'?Va,i0n i11™8 Praiseof his contemporaries; his writings, the ?esult of
guy raise to an enlightened and liberal profession. great experience and accurate observation, freed from the
Sixteenth
century.
eS Srw'tfTh" °f following five
only. The third hsed emollient ointments end „1 J,c„ The fomth ehiffl. mtr, ’ The ?econd ,,n s,mi ” employed wine
and charms. The fifth, “ consisting of ignorani practitioners and siib women 1,S? prom“cuo,“ f ™PIT‘1 “k wool, potions,
other's writings perpetually, and folfowed^.ch othK“ne JndelStmTTiUe c™»” P ““S'“S '° ‘he S*,"K’ pr"*ed ““h
very1" ^ssSytrLld*^ SerT^cZ^ ZZZZtrTl™ ^ ^ ”d »d
castorius ? was no, till ,530 that Fra-
Sf^a^l^tSSth^
,he pil ?-,vp1,a„nf““r:
,• later ln the century, Fallopius taught anatomy at Pisa, and Eustachius at Rome, and to their efforts as well r xr
hus, the advancement of that science is much indebted. Fallopius died in 15C3 ; Eustachius in 1574. ’ * tb°Se °f VeS3'
. , an, exf™Ple of “ow fittle the hint of Celsus was attended to, we may mention, that Proconius relates hmv ArtuKo, • , , .
effect on the c^dd*^,^ "““kf"8 bee" thlOU£"' “ blO0d 6‘ Their cauteries S
VOL. XX.
5 L
818
SURGERY.
Surgery, yoke of authority, and digested by genius of a high order,
v —v-'—' have rendered him immortal. His works, first published in
1535, and afterwards more fully in 1582, exerted a most
powerful and beneficial influence upon his profession. T he
influence was not however immediate $ foi at his death the
light he had shed was for a time obscured, surgery reverting
to the state of degradation in which he found it, in conse¬
quence of its baneful association with barberism. Pigrai was
his successor, but an unworthy one i endeavouring to fol¬
low the footsteps of his master, he obscured and almost
effaced them. The most interesting of Fare’s surgical
treatises is that on gunshot wounds, a class of injuries then
of recent introduction, and little understood: the murder¬
ous cannon and firelock had not long been in use.
Seven- In the seventeenth century surgery again revived, resum-
teenth jng the impulse which the genius of Pare had imparted,
century. jtaiy produced Caesar Magatus, who simplified, and conse-
C. Maga- quently must have improved, the treatment of wounds ; the
Tagliaco- never-to-be-forgotten Tagliacotius, with his rude repairs of
tins. the human face ; and Marcus Aurelius Severinus, a skilful
Severinus. and intrepid operator. At the end of the sixteenth and be-
F. Aqua- ginning of the seventeenth centuries, Padua wras favoured
pendente. Wlth Fabricius ab Aquapendente, the preceptor of Harvey, a
most distinguished physiologist, and the most eminent sur¬
geon of his time. His Opera Chirurgica passed through
no less than seventeen editions, and contain not only an
excellent digest of surgery as it then was, but also many
Wiseman, improvements of his own. About the middle of the seven¬
teenth century arose the true father of British surgery, our
own Wiseman, the Pare of England. One or two English
names are to be found before him: William Clowes, a mi¬
litary surgeon of some eminence, attended the Earl of Lei¬
cester’s army in the Low Countries, and wrote on gunshot
wounds ; and Lowe, a Scotchman, gave to the world a
Discourse on the whole Art of Chirurgery, dated 1612:
but Wiseman doubtless is the first Briton worthy of note
in surgery. He wTas serjeant-surgeon to Charles II., and
amidst the horrors of the civil wars had ample scope for the
study of his profession. His surgical works, consisting of
eight treatises, dated 1676, contain much information, at that
time most valuable, and still amply rewarding an attentive
perusal. In military practice he strongly advocated imme¬
diate amputation, “ while the patient is free of fever, in
the case of such injuries as rendered preservation of the
member improbable, of course allowing the primary shock
of the accident to be past; a point of practice which long
discussion in after years served to confirm. It was not
till his time that surgeons ceased to believe that gun¬
shot wounds were necessarily envenomed by the powder
and ball, and had to be treated accordingly with potent and
Harvey, cruel dressings. The immortal Llarvey, contemporary with
Wiseman, cannot perhaps be classed among the eminent
surgeons, having principally confined himself to anatomy
and physiology, yet he is inseparably connected with that
*.n. 1628. science by his discovery of the circulation of the blood; a
discovery which has done so much for the advancement
Young. of all medical knowledge, but of surgery in particular.
James Young, a surgeon in Plymouth, may be said to have
been also contemporary with Wiseman, having written in
1679. He is the first who proposed amputation by a flap,
an improvement to which two French surgeons, Yerduin
and Sabaurin, lay claim ; and he is also the first wlio re¬
commends limited compression of the main artery in am¬
putation.
F. Hilda- Germany boasts of several eminent surgeons of this time ;
nus. Fabricius Hildanus, a most successful pi'actitioner, and au-
Scultetus. thor of a surgical treatise dated 1641 ; Scultetus, author of
the work, celebrated for its horrid array of lethal weapons,
Purmann. called Armamentarium Chirurgicum, 1653 ; and Purmann,
who displayed too great an attachment to the dangerous re-
Hciater. presentations of Scultetus. Heister, a professor in the uni¬
versity of Helmstadt, wrote a system of surgery, which has Surgery-
been translated into most of the European languages, and v'-—
is still in high repute.
Llolland likewise possessed successful practitioners of
surgery, but tainted with an unworthy concealment of their
methods of cure. Rau, a native of Germany, though a Ravi,
professor at Leyden, was perhaps the most successful litho-
tomist that ever lived, but he kept his method of operating
a profound secret, and made it a mystery even to his own
pupils; as appears from the circumstance that his two favour¬
ites, Heister and Albinus, of a more liberal spirit than their
master, in attempting to divulge his secret for the benefit
of the profession at large, have varied most materially in
their statements. This illiberal spirit pervaded the other
branches of medicine as well as the surgical. The famous
anatomist Ruysch preserved inviolate the secret of his
wonderfully minute injections, although really the discovery
of his friend De Graaf; and Roonhuysen the accoucheur
worked stealthily with his invented lever. The succeeding
generation however removed this stigma from the Dutch;
and their great Camper was equally celebrated for the
number of his discoveries and the zeal with which he
made them known.
From the time of Pare, France produced no surgeons of
great eminence until the eighteenth century. In the se¬
venteenth, we find the names of Dionis, Belloste, Saviard, Dionis.
and a few others of some renown, but not at all equal to
their contemporaries in other nations. Some idea may be
formed of the then feeble condition of surgery in France,
from the fact, that Louis XIV. was not cured of a simple
fistula in ano, until after his life had been in no small de¬
gree endangered by repeated abortive operations. That Eighteenth
the French can boast of surgeons of the first class in the century,
next century, however, is indisputably shown by the simple
mention of Petit and Desault; names that must ever oc- Petit,
cupy a proud place in the annals of surgery, ihe former,
adding to the most powerful talents great industry, and an (
innate love of his pursuits, rose rapidly to eminence, though
not without much envious opposition, which seems to be the
portion of nearly all those who occupy a pre-eminent place
in the profession. On general surgery, he has left a work
of much value ; and his treatise on diseases of the bones,
though produced at an early age, entitles him to be called
the father of that branch of pathology. For many years it
remained the best work on the subject. He was the in¬
ventor of the screw-tourniquet, and the first who operated
for fistula lachrymalis by transfixion of the sac. He con¬
tributed largely to the Memoirs of the Royal Academy of
Surgery ; an institution which has done much for the ad¬
vancement of surgery, not only in France, but throughout
the world. Its Memoirs, containing the result of the la¬
bours of many eminenf men, constitute a work of the great¬
est value. Desault, also of high reputation, both as an Desault,
anatomist and as a surgeon, was the first who taught sur¬
gical anatomy, and gave clinical lectures on surgery. His
improvements on the apparatus for fractures were most im¬
portant ; and a splint invented by him is still in use for frac¬
tures high in the femur. His modifications of cutting instru¬
ments were also good; among others, changing the am¬
putating instrument to a straight knife, instead of the old
curved weapon. He was the first who contemplated the
cure of artificial anus, resulting from strangulated hernia;
and he further improved Fare’s revival of ligature of the
arteries. The proposal of curing aneurism by ligature of
the vessel on the distal side of the tumour originated with
him ; a proceeding, however, of which the merit is still du¬
bious. His writings are both valuable and extensive. After
the great names of Petit and Desault, not a few French
surgeons of the same century, though less eminent, yet de¬
serve mention ; Le Dran, a copious and excellent author ; Le Dran,
Sabatier, famous in the department of operative surgery ;&c.
SURGERY. 819
Surgery. Garengeot, Louis, La Motte, Frere St Cosmo,1 Portal, Pou-
v——teau, Lecat, Chopart, Morand, Moreau, &c.
America. It is about the middle of the eighteenth century that our
attention is first attracted to our transatlantic brethren. In
1763, lectures on anatomy and surgery were delivered in
Philadelphia by Dr Shippen ; and in 1791 the medical
school of that city was completely established, under Benja¬
min Rush, the Hippocrates of Colombia; a school which has
since lent invaluable aid to the progress of both medicine
and surgery.
Pott. Our own country was at this time by no means barren in
surgery. Percival Pott and John Hunter are names which
occur, the one in the middle, the other in the end, of the
eighteenth century, and are fully equivalent to Petit and
Desault; indeed Hunter may be justly ranked as the great¬
est man that ever graced the profession. Pott, the best
author, operator, and practical surgeon of his time, greatly
improved the practice of surgery in England, both by his
writings and by personal example. Like Desault, his at¬
tention was particularly directed to the treatment of frac¬
tures, of which he had some painful experience in his own
person, having sustained a severe compound fracture of the
leg. He has left a justly celebrated treatise on the sub¬
ject. On amputation his observations are most important,
clearly discriminating between those cases, of injury more
particularly, which demand the operation, and those which
do not; at the same time marking the period most advan¬
tageous to its performance. Regarding injuries of the head,
he wrote with more precision, and at the same time with
more originality, than any previous author, and will ever re¬
main a valued authority upon that subject. The same may
be said of his description of vertebral disease, he having
been the first who clearly distinguished between those cur¬
vatures of the spine depending on mere change of form in
the bones, and those occasioned by caries or abscess : the
latter formidable affection is still known as “ Pott’s dis¬
ease” of the vertebrae. He greatly improved the treat¬
ment of fistula in ano, and abscesses in general; and by
simplifying the whole art of surgery, discarding the cautery
and escharotic unguents, or rather limiting them to their
proper place and use, employing also the cutting instru¬
ments with caution and reserve, and placing more implicit
trust in, and showing more respect for, the powers of nature
than had hitherto been the custom, he achieved a most im¬
portant and beneficial reform in surgery. Until his time,
the maxim “ Dolor medicina doloris” remained unrefuted.
The actual cautery, for example, was in such general use,
that “ at the time when surgeons visited the hospital, it
was regularly heated and prepared in the wards, and in the
presence of the patients, as a part of the necessary appara¬
tus. Mr Pott lived to see these remains of barbarism set
aside, and a more humane and rational plan, of which he
Hunter, was the originator, universally adopted.” John Hunter, a
native of Scotland, the pupil, first of Cheselden, and after¬
wards of Pott, though not remarkably distinguished as an
operator, was the most gifted surgeon of which the medical
profession can boast, and no less eminent as an anatomist,
physiologist, and general philosopher. His researches com¬
prehended a wider range than those of Pott, but arrived at
the same end, the improvement of surgery. The know¬
ledge obtained by his vast inquiries into physiology, patho¬
logy, and human and comparative anatomy, was, with all the
power of his genius, brought to bear upon the practice of
the profession, and with the happiest success. The doc- Surgery
trines of adhesion, granulation, ulceration, and inflammation v-—''
with its various results, were, until detected and explained by
him, comparatively obscure and uncertain ; and no one is ig¬
norant how much the successful treatment of disease, either
by surgery or medicine, must ever depend on an accurate
and familiar knowledge of these rudiments. To him we
are indebted for the simplification of more than one opera¬
tion, the discovery of the vitality of the blood, important
advice as to the treatment of gunshot wounds, the enforce¬
ment of excision of bitten or poisoned parts, many new
facts as to the physiology and pathology of teeth, and other
valuable additions to practical surgery. But these assume
an unimportant place among his deeds, when placed be¬
side the two with which his name is indelibly associated—
the cure of popliteal aneurism by ligature of the femoral
artery, and the elucidation of the venereal disease ; his work
on the latter subject still remaining standard, and in many re¬
spects unsurpassed. His improvement of the operation for
aneurism marks an era in the history of surgery, being one of
the most important of its advances. Dissatisfied with the
cruel, formidable, and unsatisfactory operation for popliteal
aneurism, by incision of the tumour and ligature of the vessel
at its diseased part, he made himself aware of the causes of
failure by the old system, contemplated the plan of cure
which bears his name, satisfied himself of its practicability by
diligent study and experiment, successfully brought it to the
test of actual practice; and then, extending the principle
to all aneurisms, effected for surgery a great triumph over
that formidable disease.2 His first operation was performed
in 1785, and was successful; proving that permanent re-A.c. 17fi5-
moval of the force of the circulation in the aneurism is suf¬
ficient for its cure, by permitting consolidation and ultimate
obliteration of the tumour. Since his time the method of
applying the ligature has been considerably improved, and
the certainty of success consequently increased. But “ the
more brilliant a discovery, and the more beneficial its re¬
sults, the more certain is its author of becoming the butt of
envy and the object of detraction.” And accordingly we
find that Hunter has not been permitted to remain in un¬
disturbed possession of his discovery. Its merit has by some
been claimed as due to Aetius : others, with better hopes of
success, support the pretensions of Guillemeau (a pupil of
Ambrose Pare), Anel,3 and Desault; but a candid inquiry
into facts and dates will ever result in ascribing the honour
to our illustrious countryman. Had he even been deprived
of this, his name must still have been immortalized by othe
and more palpable labour of his mind and hand—his books
and museum.
In the same century with Pott and Hunter, Britain also
produced White, an excellent practical surgeon and lucid White,
writer ; Cheselden and Douglas, two eminent lithotomists, Cheselden.
the former peculiarly successful; Sharp, famed for his Cri- sharp,
tical Inquiry into the State of Surgery; and Monro, a name Monro,
indissolubly united with the birth and fame of the Edinburgh
medical school.4
In Italy, where, during the times of Pott and Hunter, se¬
veral eminent surgeons lived, Lancisi, Morgagni, Bertrandi,
Troja, &c.,—the labours of Hunter in aneurism were ably
followed up by Scarpa, who still further elucidated the doc- Scarpa,
trines regarding the new treatment of that disease, and esta¬
blished the success of the operation. He was also eminent¬
ly successful in his researches as to the anatomy and patho-
1 Frere Jean de St Cosme, although a monk, had been educated as a surgeon. He was the inventor of the Lithotome Cach4, and with it
obtained wonderful success and celebrity as a lithotomist.
* “ So discouraging were the results of the old operation, that many surgeons preferred performing amputation of the aneurismal limb.”
3 Guillemeau and Anel placed their incisions and ligatures in the immediate neighbourhood of the tumour.
* Dr Monro was appointed professor of anatomy to the company of surgeons in 1719, and during the ensuipg year he was appointed to a
similar chair in the university. Several other professors in the same faculty had previously been nominated ; Sir Robert Sibbald, Dr Halke;,
and Dr Pitcairne, so early as the year 1685. But Dr Monro was the first who regularly delivered public courses of lectures, and he may ia
a great measure be regarded as the founder of the medical school of Edinburgh.
820
SURGERY.
&c.
Surgery, logy of hernia, a subject which he has made peculiarly his
J own. The same century saw in Germany,^ Schmucker,
Haller. Richter, and the great Haller, whose Disputationes Chirur-
gicce bear, equally with his other works, the impress of both
labour and genius of a high order.
Nineteenth The nineteenth century will not yield to any former era
century. jn a numerous and bright array of names dear to surgery.
Abernethy, It has seen the fall of Abernethy and Dupuytren, Cooper
and Roux, Liston and Lisfranc, brilliant stars in the galaxy,
and mourns others highly valued ; but vast and powerful
is the host who are still labouring, with distinguished suc¬
cess in their noble calling. In all civilized countries, the
dark days of the profession have, we trust, for ever passed
away ; and many are the illustrious names in which it now
exults, more particularly in France and Germany. But we
hesitate not to assert,^—and we cannot think that national
prejudice exerts any influence in leading us to the conclu¬
sion—that no country can boast of a better crowd than that
by which Britain, in the present century, has been and still
is adorned.
Modern Having followed surgery thus far, from the earliest times,
surgery. jn its most notable points of history, we shall proceed to
inquire briefly into the practice of the present day. And,
Operations, fii-st, of the art of operating. It is a favourite phrase by
which operations are stigmatized as the “ opprobria of sur¬
gery.” Nothing can be more unjust. So long as injury and
disease are permitted to afflict mankind; so long as bones are
crushed, and flesh bruised and torn; so long as tumours
grow, and gangrenes spread—and we know nothing short of
direct divine interposition that can wholly prevent such ac¬
cidents—it is only by operation, dexterously executed and
skilfully timed, that the human frame can be kept in repair,
and life prolonged. To be able safely and expeditiously to
remove parts which accident has rendered totally useless,
and which would prove highly injurious if longer attached
to the body ; to take away diseased formations, or other
noxious substances, and at the expense of but brief suffer¬
ing, to dispel torture which had rendered existence a bur¬
den for previous weeks, months, and years; to accomplish
such results, though it be by blood and pain, is alike credit¬
able to the operator and beneficial to the sufferer. It is
not a disgrace to the profession that certain injuries and
diseases are of so grievous a nature as to be incurable but
by operation, for such is the dispensation of Providence ;
it is the surgeon’s boast to have recourse to the knife as sel¬
dom as possible; but it is also his pride to be able by it, as
a last, and, to both parties, painful resource, to ward off suf¬
fering, deformity, and death. It is not, to operate, but to
operate unseasonably, unnecessarily, unskilfully, that can
ever bring disgrace ; and to refrain from performing an ope¬
ration when it is loudly and plainly called for, would carry
not only opprobrium to surgery, but guilt and shame to
the surgeon. We are speaking of surgery as it now is, not
as it was. In former times operations were its disgrace.
Knives, hot irons, screws, files, and saws, were employed
with cruel and ignorant recklessness; but of late years, it has
been the object of each truly good surgeon to simplify and
diminish the number of instruments, and at the same time
to use them as seldom as possible. He does not hesitate
to employ them when his knowdedge and experience tell
him they have become indispensable. On the contrary, he
will probably be urgent in their application, knowing that
an early wound may save much after-suffering; but, in the
first place, he will exert all his skill and all his powers, by
milder measures to counteract injury and restrain disease,
so as to supersede the necessity of operating. To effect this Surgery,
is doubtless the true triumph of his profession; and this -
triumph he often attains. But he must be Utopian indeed
who can seriously hope that the period will ever arrive when
operations shall have altogether ceased to be required. In
the progress of surgery, many a murderous weapon, at one
time in frequent use, has grown thick with rust, and be¬
come almost unknown; those retained are few, effective,
and never employed without good cause. The growth of
science and experience is bringing the ravages of disease
more and more under control; operations are not only less
frequent, but more simple and less dangerous in the perform¬
ance ; and it is the pride of the modern surgeon to witness
and promote this great improvement of his profession. But
there are, and ever must be, diseases which we cannot ex¬
pect to cure, and injuries against which we cannot hope to
strive successfully, so as to preserve life, by any measure
short of operation. Modern surgery, accordingly, while
anxious to limit the necessities for operation, is not the less
aware of its importance as a means of cure; and has not
only directed attention towards its improvement, but also
extended its application, and with the happiest result, to dis¬
eases formerly unopposed. Many patients, for example, are
now by the knife freed from morbid growths and natural
deficiencies, who were formerly left an unprotected prey to
deformity and disease.
The necessity for an operation having been clearly estab¬
lished, our object then is to perform it as safely and expedi¬
tiously as possible. We now no longer hear, as we did even
so lately as fifteen or twenty years ago, of a poor patient be¬
ing tortured for the space of an hour, by cruelties misnamed
lithotomy: in a few minutes the bladder is cleared of ex¬
traneous matter; and almost the like number of seconds
will suffice for amputation.1 With this celerity, the safety
of the patient is not only equally, but more secure; for
rapidity is still held subservient to, though conjoined with,
excellence of performance ; and the mere absence of pro¬
tracted pain confers a most important advantage on the
reparative powers of the system.
But for the mitigation of pain, the surgeon is not now
dependent solely on his quickness of hand. Anaesthesia, by
vaporous inhalation, places the patient, temporarily, in a
most blissful Lethe ; not only abrogating all sense of suffer¬
ing, but also contributing greatly to the system’s power of
enduring the operation. (Vide Chloroform.)
A prominent cause of improvement in the art of operating
is an increased simplicity of the instruments, their arrange¬
ment, and use. On this subject, one who stoodybceYe prin-
ceps among the operators of his day,2 observes: Our arma¬
mentaria should contain simple and efficient instruments
only ; the springs, grooves, notches, and curves, seeming to
be chiefly intended to compensate for want of tact and ma¬
nual dexterity. The apparatus, though simple, ought to be
in good order, and should always be placed within easy and
convenient reach of the operator, so that he may be in a
great measure independent of the lookers-on, who, owing to
anxiety or curiosity, hurry and agitation, are apt to hand
anything but what may at the instant be required. He will
consider well what place he himself will most conveniently
occupy during the operation; and having obtained proper
assistants, he will make sure that they all understand what is
expected of them. In short, before he ventures to begin,
he will ascertain that everything is arranged, and in pro¬
per order; more particularly, that the cutting instruments
have good points, that their edges are keen, and that the
joints of forceps and scissors move freely and readily. The
1 Nor are there many now, who, alluding to their operative powers, would he likely to express themselves as did the preceptor of the
immortal Harvey, first surgeon of his time though he was : “ If it he a movable tumour, I cut it away with a red-hot knife, that sears
it cuts; but if it be adherent to the chest, I cut it without bleeding, with a wooden or horn knife, soaked m aquafortis, with which,
2 Mr Liston.
having cut the skin, I dig out the rest with my fingers !
SURGERY* 821
Surgery, principle on which the instrument is made to cut should be
^ " well considered. Every knife is to be looked upon as a fine
saw; the teeth of some are set forwards, and these cut best
from point to heel, as does a razor; but the greater num¬
ber are set in the opposite direction,—for example, the com¬
mon scalpel and bistoury,—and act efficiently only in being
drawn from heel to point. The cutaneous tissues, and in
many instances the subjacent parts, should be divided at
once and completely, by a single incision made lightly and
rapidly; for the pain experienced is in proportion to the
pressure and tardiness of movement in the instrument ap¬
plied. The pain of partial division of the skin, in tails left
at each end of an incision, is very great; and, besides, such
wounds are not so available, as they would otherwise be, for
the intended purpose of evacuating fluid, for permitting the
extraction of foreign bodies, or for the dissection of mor¬
bid growths. Also, the pausing of a surgeon in the midst
of a dissection, and the resort to fresh and more extensive
incisions of the surface, is not only always awkward, but
attended with much additional and unnecessary pain to the
patient. Every cutting instrument should be well balanced,
and placed in a steady smooth handle; the point should
either be in a line wdth the back, which ought then to be
perfectly straight, or both edge and back should be so far
convex, the point being in the middle of the blade. The
form and size of the instrument ought always to be in pro¬
portion to the extent of the proposed incisions, both as
regards their length and depth: nothing can be imagined
more cruel and reprehensible, for example, than an attempt
to remove the lower extremity of a full-grown person with
a common scalpel or dissecting-knife. If an extensive in¬
cision is necessary, an instrument should be employed pos¬
sessing length of edge sufficient to separate the parts smooth¬
ly and quickly. Should the operator be required to cut on
important parts, to perform a delicate dissection of the
living tissue, he will choose a short-bladed instrument, with
a handle rather long and well rounded; and after the su¬
perficial incisions have been effected, he will hold it as he
would a writing pen, lightly but firmly, so that he can turn
the edge, and cut either towards or from himself, as occasion
may require. A small well-made scalpel, with a good point,
and less convexity than those usually employed, is the in¬
strument best adapted for such a purpose. Grooved probes
and directors should be used as little as possible. With a
little practice, incisions may be made upon the most deli¬
cate parts, without risk, by the hand unsupported, one layer
being cut after the other. If any instrument is wanted to
make the proceeding more safe—if the closely investing
fasciae of a hernial tumour, for example, are to be cautious¬
ly raised—dissecting forceps will be found the most conve¬
nient instrument for elevation previous to incision. In di¬
viding the skin, the knife, whether a scalpel or a bistoury,
is to be held and entered with the point and blade at right
angles to the surface. It is carried with a decisive move¬
ment down to the subcutaneous cellular tissue; the blade
is then inclined towards the part to be divided, and by a
rapid and slightly sawing motion—as little pressure being
applied as possible—the division is effected to the desired
extent. The incision is finished by withdrawing the knife
in a position perpendicular to the surface, so as to divide
the entire thickness of the skin at the extremity as well
as origin of the wound. For dexterously effecting such
manipulations, the “ fingers must be educatedand dili¬
gent practice in the dissecting-room wfill be found the best
foundation for surgical dexterity, as it is for sound surgical
knowledge: “ it is only when we have acquired dexterity Surgery,
on the dead subject, that we can be justified in interfering
with the living.” By practice the pupil will be enabled to
use either hand almost equally well, and none should neglect
to attain this power, for an ambidexterous surgeon possesses
a great advantage as an operator. An ordinary degree of
expertness is within the reach of any one who will indus¬
triously seek for and improve the opportunities for its ac¬
quirement ; but yet a certain combination of natural quali¬
fications is undoubtedly necessary to the attainment of pre¬
eminence in operative surgery ; for a great operator in one
respect resembles a great poet,—“nascitur, non fit.” The
importance of these natural gifts did not escape Celsus.
“ He must be young, or at most but middle aged,” says he,
“ and have a strong steady hand, never subject to tremble.
He must be ambidexterous, and of a quick, clear sight. He
must be bold, and so far void of pity that he may have in
view only the cure of him whom he has taken in hand, and
not, in compassion to cries, either make more haste than
the case requires, or cut less than is necessary, but do all as
if he were not moved by the shrieks of his patient.” The
coolness and courage thus inculcated are the most valuable
natural gifts of the surgeon ; and it would be well did every
patient remember that they are equally important in him¬
self, for on his steadiness and patience under suffering much
of the celerity and success of an operation depends. Ex¬
pert skill in operation contributes greatly towards perfect
self-possession; for the dexterous surgeon, like an adroit
master of the sword, “ will not enter rashly into difficulties,
but being engaged from necessity or conviction, will bring
himself through with courage.” He who has what is strange¬
ly termed “ common sense,” enjoys another of nature’s
choicest gifts ; and to no possessor does it prove more
valuable than to the surgeon, as by its judicious applica¬
tion the want of more than one of the prominent qualifi¬
cations considered as essential to his success may be fully
compensated.1 But a combination of the natural essentials
for an eminent operator, as may readily be imagined, falls
to the lot of only a small number ; and to that gifted few it
were well, when circumstances will admit of it, to delegate
the performance of the more dangerous and difficult ope¬
rations. Every surgeon, however, should be ready to un¬
dertake the greater number of surgical proceedings with¬
out hesitation or delay; for though, as we have already
stated, operations do not form the most important part of
surgery, they still are, and ever must be, inseparable from
its successful practice.
Haemorrhage, the most prominent accompaniment of sur- HEemor-
gical operation, is now in much better command, both rhage.
temporarily and permanently, than it used to be, and con¬
sequently is less dreaded by the surgeon. During the
operation, complicated machines, encircling the whole limb
—very painful from the great and general pressure, and
increasing the loss of blood by swelling the venous torrents
and retarding retraction of the minor vessels—are now
superseded by the skilful application of the “ educated ”
and steady hand of an assistant, compressing the trunk
of the main artery, and it alone. This change is particu¬
larly advantageous to amputation, admitting of its perform¬
ance with greater dispatch, and with less haemorrhage. In
more tedious proceedings—the cautious extirpation of tu¬
mours, for example—the surgeon commences his incisions
where he knows the principal vessels enter the part about
to be the scene of operation ; they are consequently divided
at once ; an active and steady assistant secures their orifices
l The ancient Athenians had a law, that no slave or woman should study medicine; probably fearing want of education in the one
class, and deficiency of common sense in the other. Perhaps it were well if a similar protection to the practice of the nrofessinn were
in present force, as was proposed by the late Mr Alexander Wood of this city. In addition to the usual examination for the dinloma
of surgeon, he wished to establish a jury to determine on the common sense of the candidate, stating as his reason, “ If thev have not
I would not give a for the rest of their medical knowledge.” y not tnat>
822
Surgery.
Wounds.
S U E G E R Y.
by the pressure of one or more fingers, and the pioceedings
are completed with comparatively little loss of blood, and
without the hindrance of applying ligatures to any arterial
branches until all the knife-work has been completed.
Sometimes, when the part is unusually vascular, and im¬
portant vessels come from all sides, this lule cannot be
followed, and ligature must be applied to each important
branch as it is "divided; but this necessity for delay does
not often occur. The ligature,—a firm hempen thread,
well waxed,—ought in all cases to be applied very carefully,
and made to enclose the orifice of the artery alone, which
for this purpose is pulled out by the spring-artery forceps,
or, when the parts have been much consolidated by infil¬
tration, by a sharp tenaculum. A double knot, carefully
secured, having been made upon the isolated orifice, one
end of the ligature is cut off close to the knot, the other
being left protruding from the most dependent part of the
wound, that the ultimate separation of the ligature and its
enclosed slough may thus be watched and made certain.
It was at one time recommended, and is still practised by
some, to cut away both ends of the ligature close to the
knot, in the belief that the union of the wound by the first
intention would thus be favoured, and in the hope that the
noose would become encysted in its original situation, and
produce no further annoyance; that hope, however, has
been disappointed. It was then thought, that by making
the ligature of an animal substance, as catgut, it might be
slowly removed by absorption, and thus be prevented
from becoming a source of future irritation ; but that plan
also failed. No doubt, ligatures in such circumstances
have long remained quiescent, but that has been seldom ;
sooner or later, perhaps alter the cure has been thought
complete, they occasion the formation of abscess after ab¬
scess, and produce much irritation, until they themselves
are expelled ; and thus recovery is in the end much pro¬
tracted. The usual practice therefore now is, to leave one
end of each ligature a little protruding from the lips of the
wound, in order to secure their complete expulsion at the
proper period. These remarks of course apply only to
wounds which are approximated soon after infliction, with
the hope of their adhesion. When the cut surface, on the
contrary, is left open, in order to suppurate, both ends of
each ligature should be removed close to the knot, the
practice being then unexceptionable. Another innovation
lately practised, was the substitution of torsion for ligature
of the arterial orifice, thereby imitating the natural means
of suppressing bleeding. The method has only been found
to succeed well with vessels of the second and third class,
such as those of the fore-arm and lip—being inapplicable to
the smaller twigs, and not safe in the case of the larger
arterial trunks. In every extensive wound, therefore, some
ligatures must be applied; and that being the case, it has
been found more convenient and satisfactory to apply liga¬
tures to each orifice requiring artificial closure. Hceuioc-
rhage from veins usually ceases spontaneously when the posi¬
tion of the part is attended to, and all pressure removed that
might prove an obstacle to the venous return. If it should
be found obstinate, pressure applied to the orifice will be
sufficient. Under any circumstances, cauteries and caustics
are now seldom if ever required for arresting haernorrhage.
These remarks naturally lead to the consideration of in¬
cised wounds, and here we again find that simplicity and
improvement in surgery are synonymous. “ Hot dressings,
filthy unguents, greasy poultices, stimulating plasters, and
complicated bandages, have given place to light water¬
dressing, unirritating plaster sparingly applied, and careful
position of the part.”1 To no one does a larger share of
merit belong in this, than to him from whom we have made
the above quotation; and we cannot do better than con¬
tinue to glean from him a little more on this subject. Surgery.
“ Formerly (and they are even still) wounds were put
together without delay, and their edges squeezed into ap¬
position, and retained by various means, such as sutures,
plasters, compresses, and bandages. They were carefully
covered up, and concealed from view for a certain number
of days. Then the envelopes of cotton and flannel, the
compress-cloths, the pledgets of healing ointment, and plas¬
ters, were taken away, loaded with putrid exhalations, and
a profusion of bloody, ill-digested, fetid matter. A basin
was forthwith held under the injured part, and the exposed
and tender surface was deluged with water from a sponge,
and then well squeezed and wiped. Then came a re-ap¬
plication of retentive bandage, of the plaster, of the grease
mixed with drying powder, all surmounted by some absorb¬
ing stuff, as charpie or tow, to soak up the discharge. T. his
was not unaccompanied by pain, often more complained of
than that attendant on the original injury or operation.
This process was repeated day after day, the patient was
kept in a state of constant excitement, and often, worn out
by suffering, discharge, and hectic fever, fell a victim to
the practice. The wound was, as it were, put into a
forcing bed, excited action beyond what was required was
hurried on, and the consequence was, that immediate union
seldom if ever could or did take place. A suppurating sur¬
face, on the contrary, with bad profuse discharge, and a
very tedious cure, if any, were obtained.” This was an
uncomfortable state of matters, but there is now a change.
Surfaces are not disposed to unite for some time after the
division and separation have occurred. So long as there
is oozing of blood, no good end is to be attained by their
close apposition. Should this be attempted, the blood
which continues to be discharged from the smaller vessels
is necessarily prevented from escaping; and the conse¬
quences are, infiltration of the loose cellular tissue, disten¬
tion of the cavity of the wound, and separation of the
surfaces probably throughout their whole extent; unless,
indeed, this be counteracted by well-adjusted pressure on
every part. Then ensues a congested state of the sur¬
rounding vessels, with perhaps a troublesome haemorrhage
from branches that would otherwise have become sealed
up; at all events, constitutional disturbance, a heated
swollen state of the injured parts, profuse, bloody, and
putrid discharges, must occur; and this will certainly be
followed by suppuration from a foul cavity, which may be
long in assuming a healthy state. It is when re-action
has occurred, when gentle vascular excitement has taken
place in and around the solution of continuity, and when
plastic matter begins to be secreted and thrown out, that
the process of adhesion can be expected to commence in
earnest. The edges of a large wound, as that resulting
from amputation of the extremities, may be approximated
in part, either by position, or by a few points of inter¬
rupted suture (the metallic almost always preferred), as
soon as bleeding from the principal vessels has been ar¬
rested. But the close apposition, and application of all
the retentive means, had better be delayed for some time
longer. In the interval, sensibility will be abated, the
oozing moderated, and the chance of secondary haemor¬
rhage much diminished, by lightly covering the parts
with lint dipped in cold water, and frequently renewed;
or a piece of lint may be placed between the cut surfaces,
and a constant irrigation kept up by threads passing from
a vessel containing cold water. When all oozing has ceased,
and the surface become glazed, the surrounding skin, pre¬
viously shaved, is made thoroughly dry; coagula are re¬
moved, the edges are put carefully and neatly in contact,
and retained by narrow slips of adhesive plaster placed at
intervals. The plaster commonly in use does not retain
1 Liston’s Practical Surgery.
S U R G E K Y. 823
Surgery, its hold sufficiently long, is loosened by discharge, heats
the surface, and often gives rise to erythema. A better
kind is made by spreading a strong solution of isinglass in
spirit on the unglazed side of oiled silk, cut into slips of
the necessary length and size; this plaster is quite unirri¬
tating, and often retains its hold until the very completion
of the cure. Being transparent, it does not prevent any
untoward process that may be going on underneath from
being observed; and if any fluid collects under it, an open¬
ing can be made for its escape. If sutures have been
previously employed for the partial approximation of the
wound, they can be removed by cutting the thread, shortly
after the fixing of the plasters, should these alone prove
sufficiently retentive. No other dressing need be em¬
ployed in the first instance ; no compress, no pledget, no
bandage ; for in general they will not promote union of
the wmund, and may do harm. The slight discharge that
oozes out is from time to time wiped from the surrounding
skin, and from the glazed cloth on which the part is laid.
In some cases of amputation, after a few days a roller may
be applied, to encourage the subsidence of any slight
oedema that may have arisen, and to bring the stump into
a good form. By such simple treatment, a great deal of
suffering is saved to the patient, and he enjoys much com¬
fort and cleanliness; besides, the surgeon is relieved from
a load of most unpleasant and harassing duty. In certain
circumstances it may be expedient to deviate from this system
of dressing, and to bring the wound at once into apposition.
In such cases the use of lint-compresses are quite essential,
arranged over the entire extent of the incision so as to
keep the surfaces in apposition, and prevent inward accu¬
mulation of the blood that may continue to ooze.
Wounds produced accidentally are almost always attended
with more or less bruising of the parts, and can unite only
by the second intention. After bleeding has been sup¬
pressed by the method recommended for incised wounds,
the cold applications are to be superseded by those of an
agreeable warmth, such as poultice of bread and water, or,
what is much to be preferred, from its simplicity, and light¬
ness, lint of thick texture, and of sufficient size to cover
the wound, soaked in tepid water, and overlaid by an ample
piece of oiled silk to prevent evaporation. Heat and
moisture, by which qualities a poultice produces its sooth¬
ing and beneficial effects, by which the surface is relaxed,
its capillary circulation encouraged, and discharge pro¬
moted, are thus amply afforded without any of the weight,
putrefactive fermentation, stench, and filth not easily sepa¬
rable from common poulticings. The edges of the wound
are approximated as much as possible by attention to posi¬
tion ; and by the same means the return of blood is favoured,
and engorgement of the vessels and inflammatory swelling
prevented to a very great degree. If the wound run across
the fibres of the skin and muscles underneath, these are to
be relaxed by flexion or extension, as may be, of the neigh¬
bouring articulations. Rest of the injured parts is also
essential, and to obtain this it is sometimes proper to apply
splints. Contraction of the wound takes place naturally,
and generally with sufficient rapidity; should the surface,
however, from any cause become weak and flabby, the lint
is to be wet. with a gently stimulating solution, as of zinc,
instead of tepid water. Support, by bandage or plaster,
may for a like reason sometimes be required. But healing
is often retarded by the plasters and bandages which are
inconsiderately employed to hurry it on; the granulations
are absorbed, the surface of the sore becomes foul, the dis- Surgery,
charge thin and offensive, perhaps inflammation of the sur-
rounding skin takes place, with extension of the sore by
ulceration. Sometimes adhesion and suppuration may be
happily blended in the cure. Thus, when, in a suppurating
wound, whether accidental or incised, the discharge begins
to thicken, and diminish in quantity, when the granulations
are florid, small, and accuminated, and when the surround¬
ing parts are sufficiently lax to admit of easy approxima¬
tion, the granulating surfaces may then be brought into
close apposition, with every prospect of immediate union
taking place.
When the wound is superficial throughout, and when the
means used for effecting apposition are capable at the same
time of preventing the interposition of blood, the dressing
may be always completed at once ; as, for instance, in
penetrating wounds of the mouth ; in division of the lip,
as for harelip; and in repairing some deficiencies of the
genital organs. In such cases, either the twisted or quilled
suture is used, usually the former, and no other dressing
should be applied. To put on strips of plaster, to cover
the part with lint smeared with ointment, to interpose dos¬
sils of lint between the skin and end of the pins, to support
the wound by a uniting bandage—all this is mischievous,
and a remnant of the old meddlesome surgery. Any kind
of application collects and retains the secretions, heats and
excoriates the surface, promotes suppuration, and interferes
with the process of union.
Such is an outline of the simple treatment of wounds
now employed, with the happy effects of saving the patient
from much pain, and the surgeon from much trouble;
obtaining a more frequent occurrence of adhesion in incised
wounds; shortening the processof suppuration, and depriving
it of much of its inconvenience. It is almost needless to
observe, that this, as well as every other treatment, will,
however, prove of little avail, unless accompanied with a
careful attention to the general health : in other words, the
surgeon, not hesitating to encroach thus far upon the duties
of the physician, must ever be employing his medical
science.
In no class of diseases is the operating knife now more Diseases of
happily in abeyance, in comparison with former practice,the joints,
than in affections of the joints. Many a limb is now saved,
with its usefulness little if at all impaired, that would, in days
not long passed, have been doomed at once, and with very
little ceremony, to amputation.1 This important saving of
life and limb is mainly attributable to the advance of patho¬
logy. The cultivators of that science, among whom the
name of Brodie deserves prominent notice, have shown
with great perspicuity the various changes which morbid
processes induce in the structure of articulations, and es¬
tablished a wonderfully accurate diagnosis of each affection.
We can often tell in what tissue of the joint disease origi¬
nated, of what nature the morbid change is, and can pre¬
dicate almost with certainty the actual state of the parts, as
to extent and manner of degeneration. According to the
principle that “ the knowledge of a disease is half its cure,”
great advantage is thus obtained in adopting and regulating
the treatment suitable to the circumstances of each case.
Besides, we can tell at once, and with tolerable accuracy,
in what cases we shall probably succeed ; and in those in
which we are made aware that the disease is of such a
nature, or has proceeded to such an extent, as to baffle all
attempts to cure, we are enabled to save valuable time,
1 John Hunter himself seems to have been in the habit of making very unwarrantable abbreviations of living limbs, as the following
anecdote abundantly proves. u He once had a patient whose leg he considered it necessary to remove. He had got on his dress, and a
profound silence reigned in the theatre. The surgery-man disappeared. In two minutes he returned alone, with a face as long as the
leg. ‘ Why do you not bring in the patient ?’ demanded the expectant operator. ‘ Because, sir,’ said the astonished surgery-man, ‘ be¬
cause, sir, he has run away!”’ It is to be hoped that the custom of amputating legs that are able to “run away” has fallen into com¬
plete desuetude.
♦
824
SURGE R Y.
Surgery, and thereby to save life, by proceeding at once to the only
' cure available, by the knife. In whatever part of the joint
disease may have originated—bone, cartilage, bursas, or
svnovial apparatus—if not arrested, it soon extends to all,
converting the whole joint into one mass of disorganization,
It is of the utmost consequence, therefore, to be early in
the employment of the appropriate means of cure. The
first and most important object is to secure absolute want
of motion in the diseased parts; and here it is that the
o-reatest improvement has taken place in the treatment of
joints. “ If perfect repose and quiet of the affected parts
be omitted, all other means are found nugatory, and were
as well untried. Nothing but disrepute can accrue to the
profession, if hot irons, moxas, and issues continue to be
used inconsiderately, to the neglect of more powerful and
less appalling means. Instant relief invariably follows the
securing a state of perfect rest; other means, local and
constitutional, are thus afforded a fair chance of doing good,
and the natural efforts towards a cure are no longer thwarted
and interrupted. But, above all, the effect on the general
health is most remarkable and cheering. Even in very
complicated and bad cases, in which sinuses communicate
with the cavity of the joint, and the heads of the bones are
ascertained to be in a state of ulceration, or partially
necrosed, the good effects of perfect quietude of the joint
will soon be manifested by cessation of pain, diminution of
discharge, and speedy improvement of the general health.
A cure of the local mischief may not be possible by this
means alone, but much will often be gained, as regards the
success of ulterior proceedings, by the rapid and certain
amendment of the patient’s condition.” This salutary rest
is the first part of the treatment of all diseased joints, and
is continued, in general, throughout the whole period of
cure; it is obtained by the application of splints, varied in
form and construction according to the particular joint
affected.
Disease of the soft parts of the joint usually commences
in an inflammatory form, requiring depletion; when acute,
the antiphlogistic treatment, local and general, must be very
active, so as at once to arrest the morbid process; and hot
fomentation and poultice will generally be found more sooth¬
ing than cold applications. When the more violent symp¬
toms have subsided, the disease giving way, a determination
to the surface, with discharge, lends powerful aid towards
its final extinction. For this purpose vesication may be
produced, by cantharides or by nitrate of silver; or an erup¬
tion may be established by friction with a liniment of croton
oil, or an ointment of tartrite of antimony, their strength
proportioned to the nature of the part and age of the pa¬
tient. In chronic swelling of a joint, whether the effect of
inflammatory change, or slowly and gradually supervening
after injury, the disease must not only be arrested, but
absorption also procured of the deposit and effusion within
the synovial capsule and bursae. To obtain the former in¬
dication, local depletion and counter-irritation are employed,
according as the circumstances of the case require; and to
obtain the latter, uniform pressure of the whole swelling,
and gentle irritation of the surface, are combined with the
means of securing the all-important rest of the joint, accord¬
ing to the method first recommended by Mr Scott. The
limb having been uniformly supported by a roller, from its
extremity up to the diseased articulation, the surface of the
swelling is covered by lint spread with some gently stimu¬
lating ointment—soap cerate with camphor, for example,
or that with a greater or less proportion of the unguentum
hydrargyri; and the whole articulation is then surrounded
by long strips of adhesive plaster, drawn with moderate and
uniform tightness, so as to support and gently compress
the parts, without producing absolute pain or uneasiness.
Above all, splints are applied to secure total immunity from
motion; and they may be of leather or wood, or gutta¬
percha, as most suitable to the joint affected. When this Surgery,
dressing has become loose from subsidence of the swelling, -y——'
it is re-applied as often as may be necessary. Should fresh
inflammatory accession occur in the joint, from any acci¬
dental cause, during this treatment, the apparatus must be
discontinued, until such accession has been subdued by the
usual means already described; and when the pressure is
resumed, it should at first be very moderate. During the
treatment the limb must be kept or gradually brought into
the most advantageous position for ultimate use, particularly
if, from the duration, nature, and extent of the disease,
there is reason to expect permanent impairment of the
joint’s motion. Thus, by steady extension with splints, the
knee-joint may be brought into nearly a straight position,
so that it shall be serviceable in progression ; and the elbow
may be bent, to form such an angle with the humerus,
as shall be most convenient for prehension. But such
alterations of stiffened limbs must be proceeded with very
cautiously, otherwise they may rekindle the inflamma¬
tory process, with consequent renewal of disease in the
joint.
The preceding treatment will be found applicable to
almost all joints, the hip not excepted. In morbus coxarius,
for example, it is useful for securing immobility of the arti¬
culation, an object of such paramount importance towards
arresting the progress of that formidable disease ; and in its
advanced stage it is productive of at least relief. The joint
is placed extended, that being the preferable position, in
case of anchylosis, and surrounded by “ soft lint soaked in
a strong solution of gum acacia, which is laid on in strips
over the side and pelvis, from the short ribs to the knee,
and made to embrace the limb fully. A layer of dry lint
is first applied, and then two or three others, soaked in the
mucilage, follow; these are covered by a fold or two of
coarse calico, and the whole is retained by a roller.” Some¬
times it is necessary to preserve the limb steady in posi¬
tion by a wooden splint, as in fracture, until the composi¬
tion has dried, and the splint, so formed, adapted itself
closely to the parts. “ This gum-splint can be made of
any form, so as to allow of its being taken off, trimmed,
lined with wash leather, or protected with a layer of oiled
silk, and re-applied with a clean bandage. It can also be
fashioned so as to leave any part exposed: the discharge
from issues and abscesses can thus be allowed to escape,
and the parts can be dressed, and otherwise attended to,
without disturbing the limb. In fact, the apparatus can be
varied as circumstances demand, and is applicable in a great
variety of cases, and to any articulation.” A similarly
useful splint is made “ of leather dressed without oil, cut to
a proper form, moistened in hot water, and applied with a
roller. It soon becomes firm, and forms a case which fits
the part accurately; it is then pared, fashioned neatly, and
lined. In many chronic cases such splints answer admir¬
ably ; but the gum-splints can be applied with less disturb¬
ance of the limb, which in many instances is a great re¬
commendation.”
“ In the painful and dangerous affections of the articula¬
tions, when the cartilages are extensively absorbed, and
when the cancellated texture of the bone is more or less
diseased, good effects may yet follow judicious treatment.
Besides following out the principle of preventing all motion,
great relief will often be experienced from establishing a
permanent discharge from the neighbourhood of the dis¬
eased tissues. This can be done simply and effectually,
without causing alarm, or exciting much pain, by confining
a small piece of caustic potash on the skin near the diseased
joint. The sore thus formed is deepened, and made to dis¬
charge freely, when disposed to heal, by a few hours’ appli¬
cation of the antimonial ointment. A seton may be pre¬
ferred in some situations; certainly discharge can be thus
kept up, and derivation obtained from the affected parts,
SURGERY.
'Surgery.^ fully as vvell as by actual cauteries, moxas, pea-issues, or
other farrier-like practices. Great care must be taken in
the placing of issues; they should be near to, but not upon
a joint. Serious results have sometimes followed their care¬
less application; diseased action has been increased, they
having reached, or even penetrated, the synovial capsule.”
By the careful and judicious employment of such treat¬
ment, many affections of joints which resisted the less simple
modes of cure formerly in use, are now successfully com¬
bated ; and many limbs are saved which our forefathers
would not even have attempted to cure. But still there are
too many cases which baffle all efforts to arrest the progress
of morbid change; and it becomes necessary, in order to
relieve the labouring constitution, and preserve life, to re-
Resection move either the diseased parts alone, or the remainder of
of joints, the limb along with them by amputation. The former
operation is termed resection, and is the preferable, because
the less mutilating and severe, when the case is such as to
promise a tolerable certainty of success. Should it fail,
amputation then becomes necessary ; but by the failure the
chance of the patients ultimate recovery is very much
diminished. The cases for resection, therefore, should be
carefully selected. The general health must not have been
too much impaired; the disease must be almost entirely
limited to the articulating surfaces; and the patient must
be of that age and constitution most favourable to the re¬
paration of injury. The articulating extremities of the
bones are exposed by free incisions, planned according to
the circumstances of the case, and the diseased portions are
removed by suitable saws, or by cutting pliers. The soft
parts are then replaced, and the cavity treated as a suppur¬
ating wound, the intention being that it should heal by
healthy granulations from the bottom; and motion of the
part is encouraged during the cure, with every prospect of
the new articulation becoming both free and strong. The
elbow-joint is the one to which the operation is most appli¬
cable, and to which these observations chiefly refer. The
shoulder, too, is often operated on with perfect success.
The hip, though not excluded from the benefits of such
conservative surgery, is less favourably circumstanced ; and
it is only in few cases, specially affected as to either injury
or disease, that here resection is advisable. The knee, of
late years, has been subjected to the experience somewhat
freely; and the general result seems on the whole favour¬
able to well selected examples, except in the case of the
young, the operation in them being apt to arrest growth in
the limb, so that at the adult period of life the stunted
member hangs loosely as a mere appendage, neither useful
nor ornamental. Anchylosis is always sought. The wrist
has been successfully operated on occasionally; and good
practice in the region of the tarsus may be every day made
on the principle of resection. This operation is founded on
sound surgery, and ought in all practicable cases to take the
place of mutilating dismemberments.
Amputa- When, however, all milder means have failed, and resec-
tlon• tion is inapplicable, amputation must not be deferred until
the disease has grown riotous in its progress, and the ge¬
neral health has been seriously impaired. When the sur¬
geon is satisfied that amputation has become absolutely
necessary,—that nothing else can save life,—the sooner it
is performed the greater is the chance that this severe
remedy will not fail in its issue; and it is consolatorv to
reflect that modern improvement has greatly mitigated* its
evils, and increased the probability of its success. It is
performed more rapidly, more skilfully, and more success¬
fully. The tedious dissection of a limb, called the “circular
method,” has now given place to the “flap-operation” by
transfixion; the only valid objection that can be brought
against which is, that perhaps a greater surface of wound is
made; but this is much more than counterbalanced by the
many benefits which it otherwise insures. The operation
VOL. xx.
is more rapid ; the cut surface is smooth and regular; adhe¬
sion, or union by the first intention, is more frequent;
whether union be by the first or second intention, the cure
is more speedily completed; the end of the bone is better
covered, and the stump consequently more useful; and if the
flaps have been skilfully formed, there will seldom be exfo¬
liation of the end of the bone protruding through ulcerated
integuments, or the formation of excruciating neuromata in
the cut extremities of the nerves, rendering a renewal of
operation necessary for final cure. The manipulations of the
flap-operation are simple and well known, so need not be
here detailed; but some rules necessary for its dexterous
accomplishment are not always sufficiently attended to.
I he first regards transfixion ; and it is, that after the first
flap has been formed, the knife should not be again entered
close to the top of the wound, but about an inch below, as
thus cross-cutting of the integument is avoided. Another
is, that in sawing the bone, the surgeon must not trust the
distal portion of the limb entirely to an assistant, but, grasp¬
ing it in his left hand, must himself regulate its support,
and so avoid splintering the bone. Pressure to command
the bleeding need not be severe, but must be true. As
was formerly stated, the /ourniquet is seldom if ever used
when the fingers of an assistant can oe obtained who is
cool, steady, and well conversant with the course of the
vessels. 1 he pressure is not applied until the instant the
incisions are commenced, and then only on one point; the
limb consequently is not gorged with blood, as it would
have been by the ordinary tourniquet; less blood therefore
is lost, and besides, the flaps are much more easily retracted
from the bone. When skilful assistants cannot be obtained,
or when it is probable that many vessels will require liga¬
ture, and that consequently pressure must be long conti¬
nued, a strong metallic spring may be used, each extremity
terminating in a pad, one placed over the course of the
vessel, the other resting on the opposite part of the limb;
the assistant preserves its just application, and regulates its
pressure, and the risk is avoided of his fingers giving way
from cramp or fatigue. When the surgeon, from want of
other means, is compelled to use the ordinary screw-tour¬
niquet, its principal pressure should never be applied until
the moment before incision ; and as soon as the larger vessels
have been secured, the whole apparatus should be removed,
as thus the loss of much blood by regurgitation, and par¬
ticularly from veins, will be avoided. The arterial orifices
are secured by ligature, according to the method already
mentioned ; and should the venous trunks continue to pour
out their contents, notwithstanding the removal of all con¬
striction of the limb, pressure by the fingers of an assistant,
though for only a short time, usually suffices to arrest the
haemorrhage. The wound is treated according to the prin¬
ciples formerly explained; and thus adhesion is not only
favoured, to the saving of time and pain, but the occurrence
of secondary bleeding is also made much more improbable ;
for no warm coagulum is bound up in the wound, to act as
a sponge, and encourage escape of blood from all the untied
vessels; and even when it does take place, the bleeding
point is much more easily secured than when the stump is
bound up tight and close from the first. Should the stump
bleed seriously, six, eight, ten, twelve, or fifteen days after
the operation, in consequence of sloughing or some other
unhealthy state having supervened, the ununited wound is
to be laid open, all coagula removed, and direct pressure
applied. But should this fail, the surgeon ought instantly
to secure the trunk of the vessel whose branches are at
fault, at some distance above the stump—in amputation
below the knee, tying the femoral, for example—at the
same time supporting the stump by bandage.
Amputation is also less frequently resorted to in cases of
severe injury than formerly. In fractures, skilful and care¬
ful management preserves many a limb useful and but
5 M
826
SURGERY.
Surgery, little out of shape, which before would have been con-
v , ^ j sidered too seriously injured to retain its vitality. Nor are
romnound compound luxations regarded with the same dread. In
disloca- compound dislocation of the ankle-joint, for example, with
tion. protrusion of the bones, instead of at once amputating the
limb, the dislocation is reduced, the protruding portions of
bone having been removed in whole or in part, if so in¬
jured as to render that proceeding necessary ; the limb is
retained in a favourable position, and in a state of complete
rest; the wound is treated by the simple soothing plan;
inflammation is warded off or held in subjection by the
usual means ; if abscesses form they are early evacuated ;
the parts are uniformly and gently supported; the sur¬
geon’s medical acquirements are kept constantly on the
alert; and thus, in very many cases, the limb is retained,
with the injured joint, though stiff, exceedingly useful.
The ordinary simple dislocations are now at once detected
by the observant and well-educated surgeon, and as readily
reduced if recent; so that branch of the profession pro¬
mises to be soon rescued completely from the maltreatment
of ignorant empirics. In both diagnosis and reduction,
but especially in the latter, vast benefit is found from
the use of anaesthesia. The patient lies without pain
throughout the whole manipulations, and every muscle is
as passive as in death.
Fractures. The whole treatment of fractures has been simplified
and improved; the process of reparation in disunited bone
is better understood, and the means which favour it are
more skilfully and effectually adopted. In fractures,
whether compound or simple, of the smaller bones, more
particularly of the upper extremity, the gum-splint will be
found very suitable. By the employment of these or
other light splints—of wood, pasteboard, leather—well
padded, so as not to fret the integument, and always of
sufficient length to command the neighbouring joints, the
bones are not only kept accurately in their proper place,
but perfect quietude and freedom from all motion are like¬
wise secured,—a point all important here, as in the treat¬
ment of diseased joints. Broken limbs are no longer laid
out in state on pillows, altogether unrestrained. Absolute
rest, following early reduction of the bones, and combined
with strict attention to the workings of the general system,
usually succeeds in preventing interruption of the cure by
inflammatory mischief in the neighbourhood of the injury.
Should this nevertheless occur, the retentive apparatus can
be so arranged as to admit of the part in fault being
attended to as freely and as often as is necessary, without
disturbance of the rest of the limb ; for example, blood
may be abstracted locally, fomentation or poultice applied
to a particular part, abscesses opened, and wounds dressed,
without undoing all the retentive apparatus, and so jarring
the fracture. In severe compound fractures this advan¬
tage is particularly important. The soft parts can be
looked after as well as if no apparatus at all were applied ;
and the untoward results likely to follow such a serious
accident can consequently be sometimes averted, and al¬
ways moderated, while the hard parts are uniformly kept
in the condition most favourable to their union. For many
simple fractures an immovable retentive apparatus, by
starch bandaging, is very suitable ; always taking care,
during the early period of its application, that no undue
tension of the parts occur. In fractures of the lower
extremity near the hip-joint, Desault’s splint is still in use,
somewhat modified ; and with simple yet efficient means
to maintain as much permanent extension as shall prevent
shortening of the limb. When the break is lower in the
limb, an improvement of Macintyre’s double inclined plane
is in many cases a most suitable apparatus, combining in
an eminent degree the advantages of complete rest of the
whole limb, with ready and convenient dressing of particular
parts. The patient is also able, with safety, to be out of
bed at an early period of the cure ; a circumstance very Surgery,
favourable to the preservation of the general health.
When, notwithstanding care and skill, gangrene occurs Gangrene,
after severe fracture, either immediately or in consequence
of greater inflammation having taken place than the hurt
parts are able to bear, amputation must be had recourse to,
and the period of its performance is now no longer a sub¬
ject of dispute. Should the state of system permit, it is
done immediately in sound parts, at a distance from the
gangrene, without waiting for a line of separation, as in
chronic gangrene, else the surgeon will expect the oppor¬
tunity in vain, and meanwhile his patient sinks and dies.
Sometimes, either by the carelessness of the surgeon and Disunited
inefficiency of his treatment, or from the fault of hisfracture-
patient or defect of his constitution, union of the fracture
fails to take place. In recent cases of such disunion,
adjustment of the broken ends in accurate apposition, and
undisturbed rest of the fracture and of the whole limb, as
by starch bandaging, will occasionally effect a tardy union.
But usually it becomes necessary to rouse the parts, and
this may be done in various ways. One method is the
introduction of a seton between the fractured extremities,
gradually increasing the size of the tape, but taking care to
remove it altogether as soon as it appears that excitement
has been produced sufficient for establishing the regenera¬
tive process. A few days are usually enough; when per¬
mitted to remain for a long period, the mere presence of
the foreign body, and more particularly the constant dis¬
charge which it maintains, tend to prevent the result in
favour of which it was employed. After removal of the
seton, the limb is placed in the proper position, and must
be preserved in a state of most complete rest. Another
and gentler mode of procedure is by subcutaneous puncture.
A strong tenotomy knife is introduced and moved about
freely, even roughly, so as to make raw both ends of the
bone, and break up completely the intervening tissue ; re¬
ducing the parts to a state somewhat resembling their con¬
dition at the time of the original injury. Then the reten¬
tive means are applied with great care, to be readjusted
from time to time, with perhaps a repetition of the puncture,
should the results of the former one seem to prove imper¬
fect. This method of treatment, being milder than the
seton, is to be preferred in the first instance ; but in the
event of it failing, then the seton may be used, or ivory
pegs may be driven into the ends of the bones, with the
view of producing callus, as advised by Dieffenbach.
(Vide Miller’s Principles of Surgery, p. 695.)
In fractures and other injuries of the cranium, the tre-Fractures
phine is now used with better judgment than formerly ; of the cra-
more sparingly in most cases, more readily in others. Itnium.
is not considered necessary to convert every fissure of the
skull into a chasm, by following it out with the trephine ;
in depressed fracture with urgent compression of the brain,
the application of the trephine is imperative, but no more
bone is taken away than is necessary for the raising of the
depressed portion, and the removal of what is so injured by
the accident as to render its retention of vitality improbable ;
and to bore one or more holes in the cranium in search of
extravasated blood, is generally regarded as a proceeding
equally mischievous and unprofitable. But in punctured punctured
fracture the necessity for the trephine is absolute ; it must fracture,
be used freely and at once ; and as this important point of
practice is perhaps not yet sufficiently attended to, we
shall be a little more explicit on the subject. The
punctured or star-like fracture is occasioned by a sharp
body striking the head with considerable force. The
integuments are divided, and the surface of the bone pre¬
sents an appearance of injury somewhat resembling what
is often seen in ice when struck in a similar way. But
this is a very slight extent of damage compared with what
the inner table suffers, when the puncturing weapon has
SURGERY.
Surgery, passed through the diploe, as is usually the case. The
J irinGf table, being by much the more vitreous, is shivered
into numerous fragments, which being driven inwards by
the force of the blow, perforate, or at all events grievously
irritate, the coverings of the brain, producing inflammation,
which, if not arrested, proves speedily fatal. After the
infliction of such an accident, therefore, even should the
patient be at the time so little affected as to walk to the
surgeon to have his wound dressed, the trephine should be
immediately applied to the punctured point, in order that
a portion of the bone may be removed, sufficient to allow
extraction of all the displaced portions of the internal
plate. In no other way can we avert intense inflammation
from the wounded dura mater, extending in all probability
to the brain and its more immediate investments. Even
should the practitioner be in some degree successful in
moderating the more immediate mischief by antiphlogistics
alone, the necessity for trephining will still remain, on ac¬
count of abscess under the bone, occasioned and kept up
by the fragments ; the matter must be evacuated, and the
cause of its formation must be removed. It is surely
infinitely better, therefore, to operate in the first instance,
Abscess of and so avert all such calamities. Abscess sometimes forms
the dura between the dura mater and the bone, as a consequence
of mere contusion ; its occurrence, and usually its site, are
indicated by constitutional disturbance, peculiar oedema of
of the scalp, unhealthy discharge from the wound, and a
pale necrosed appearance of the bone. In such cases, also,
perforation of the skull should not be delayed ; for it alone
can succeed in evacuating the matter and relieving the
patient. But, on the whole, “ trepanning of the skull,
which with our forefathers appears to have been an every¬
day occupation, is an operation now very rarely resorted
to.” After its performance, from whatever cause, there is
now no rasping of the bone, or cutting away of the integu¬
ments ; the edges of the circular aperture are denuded of
their periosteum as little as possible, and the soft parts,
having been carefully replaced, are treated as a suppura¬
ting wound ; the deficiency of the bone is filled up by a
ligamentous expansion, which slowly ossifies as the patient
lives on. When a large portion of the skull has been re¬
moved, it is well to afford support to the cranial contents
by the application of a compress and bandage externally.
Erysipelas. There is no more successful caterer to the amputating
knife than erysipelas inertly treated ; destruction of bones
and joints has been too often its result. The improved
treatment by incision, however, now in general use, saves
many a limb entire and unscathed. So soon as tension of
the surface indicates that the cellular substance is so infil¬
trated as to threaten destruction of the tissues—in that in¬
tense and peculiarly asthenic form of the disease which is
called the phlegmonous—free incision must be immediately
had recourse to; the knife is used not only to evacuate
matter, but to anticipate its formation, and prevent its
baneful consequences. In the milder cases, sufficient
relief is obtained by making, with the point of a lancet,
numerous punctures in rapid succession, effusion from
which is encouraged by hot fomentations. In most cases,
even when severe, division of the integument and sub¬
jacent cellular tissue suffices; but if the infiltration has
extended to the inter-muscular tissue, the knife must fol¬
low : its free use may appear harsh, but is in reality a
valuable kindness. The burrowing of matter is prevented,
827
and consequently also sloughing of the soft parts, the open- Surgery,
ing up of bursae and articulations, and the denuding of i - Y-«_'
bones by destruction of their periosteum, ending in necrosis
more or less complete. Museums were at one time copi¬
ously enriched with splendid specimens of necrosis of the
long bones, throughout almost the whole extent of the
limb, all the result of neglected erysipelas ; but the bistoury
has superseded the amputating knife, and such preparations
fortunately are now become valuable by their rarity. The
free internal administration of iron is of vast value in all
cases of truly asthenic erysipelas, whether slight or severe,
not only mitigating the symptoms at the time, but also
preventing those secondary abscesses which otherwise are
so apt to prove troublesome, especially in hospital practice.
In opening abscesses, “ pointing” is not now waited for ; Abscess,
before that takes place, irretrievable mischief may have been
done. The tactus eruditus having acquainted the surgeon
with the existence of purulent formation, it must be reached
by his bistoury, at whatever depth, if it be in the neighbour¬
hood of joints, bones, or vessels, and more particularly if close
to important cavities or canals. The mere contact of puru¬
lent matter will not injure these, but its pressure will, and
from it they must be relieved, lest their functions be inter¬
fered with or their structure destroyed. For example, puru¬
lent collections in the fauces are evacuated by the bistoury
before the patient is threatened with suffocation ; and ab¬
scesses in the perineum, and neighbourhood of the anus,
are drained by an external opening before they have be¬
come troublesome fistulte.1 * * * * The knife must of course be
used cautiously when the abscess is deep, lest the vessels
and other important parts be wounded ; but let not the fear
of this deter the surgeon from relieving abscesses in their
immediate neighbourhood; for “ the vessels and nerves are
displaced by the morbid accumulation, and the knife is
passed safely, in their course, to such a depth as would
greatly endanger them in the healthy state of the parts.”
The opening should in all cases be made sufficiently large
to afford a free exit to the matter; it should be placed in
the most dependent part of the cavity, with which view the
prevailing position of the patient should be considered; and
sometimes more than one opening should be made at once,
to prevent the necessity for future counter-openings, or the
formation of sinus,—as when the abscess extends over a
considerable surface, and cannot be made to discharge
through one aperture. After evacuation, in assisting which
no pressure or squeezing should be employed, fomentations
and the water-dressing are applied. Chronic abscess, when
small, may be treated as the acute, by direct and free inci¬
sion ; but when large, there is risk by intense inflammation
of the pyogenic membrane following; and it is better to
empty the cavity by subcutaneous puncture from time to
time, till the size has so far diminished as to admit of a
direct wound being made with safety. In establishing an Im r
artificial abscess, or issue, the modern caoutchouc seton is seton. 6
a great improvement on the skein of silk or cotton formerly
used, requiring no renewal on account of decay, and absorb¬
ing no discharge.
Ulcers, like wounds, are now treated more simply and Ulcers,
better; and better because more simply. The healthy
suppurating sore is covered,, like a suppurating wound, with
the plain and light water-dressing; simple in the first in¬
stance, afterwards medicated by gentle stimulants or not,
according as the pfogress of the sore may seem to require.
1 Dr Radeliffe has probably few imitators at present in his clumsy though ingenious method of emptying abscess of the fauces <c He
was once sent for into the country to visit a gentleman ill of the quinsy. Finding (supposing) that no external or internal application
would be of service, he desired the lady of the house to order a hasty pudding to be made ; when it was done, his own servants were to
bring it up. ^ While it was preparing, he gave them instructions how they were to act. When the pudding was set upon the table the
doctor said Come, Jack and Dick, eat as quickly as possible ; you have had no breakfast this morning.’ Both began with their spoons-
but on Jack s dipping once for Dick’s twice, a quarrel arose. Spoonsful of hot pudding were discharged on both sides ; handsful were’
pelted at each other. The patient was seized with a hearty fit of laughter, the quinsy hurst, and the patient recovered” A moment’s use of
a straight sharp-pointed bistoury would have saved both time and the pudding.
S U R G
When stimulants are used, their solution is at first weak,
and is increased in strength very gradually, lest the dis¬
charge should be suddenly suppressed and the sore conse¬
quently inflamed; the object is simply to moderate discharge,
and check weak exuberance of" granulation. An inflamed
ulcer is subdued by the hot-water dressing, combined with
antiphlogistic regimen, rest, • and elevation of the part.
An irritable ulcer is soothed by the water-dressing, and
occasional slight application of the nitrate of silver to the
jagged angry edges of the sore; or the lint may be dipped
in°a bland anodyne solution. In all such dressings, the
lint is kept constantly invested by a portion of oiled silk,
larger than itself, to prevent evaporation of the fluid in
which the lint has been soaked. When granulations prove
exuberant, the surface may be compressed by dry lint and
bandage, so as to produce recedence either by absorption
or by ulceration, according to the degree and duration of
the pressure applied. An indolent ulcer is stimulated to
healthy action by pressure and support, combined, if ne¬
cessary, with a direct stimulant application. This last
description of sore is perhaps the most common, and is
usually found afflicting the labouring classes, to whom the
restoration of a limb is of more importance than to any
other class of patients; a speedy cure is therefore of no
little consequence. It is well effected by the method first
recommended by Mr Baynton. When the patient applies
for relief, there is usually considerable excitement around
the sore, and this may, of itself, be the means of removing
the indolent characters in the surface and edges, and
restoring the ulcer to a healthy state, on subsidence of the
inflammatory process from its destructive stage. Butin the
purely indolent condition, the foot and lower part of the leg,
for it is the part commonly affected, having been uniformly
supported by bandage, the sore is compressed by adhesive
plaster, applied in strips encircling the whole girth of the
limb, and with their extremities crossed over the sore; if
this is large, and pouring out much discharge, it is well to
cut a small hole in the plaster where it covers the ulcer.
The application having been made to extend about an inch
on each side of the sore, a little fine tow is placed above
it, to absorb discharge, and the whole is retained by con¬
tinuation of the bandage which supports the lower part of
the limb. This dressing is removed at the end of forty-
eight hours, or sooner if necessar}\ The sore itself is not
to be washed or rubbed, for its own secretion is its natural
and best protection; but the surrounding skin is wiped
clean, and, if excoriated by the pressure, bathed with a
spirituous lotion; the dressing is then re-applied as before.
By such manipulation, repeated as often as is necessary,
the indolent surface of the sore is stimulated to the for¬
mation of healthy granulations for raising its depressed
surface, while at the same time the swelling of the sur¬
rounding skin and cellular tissue is diminished by absorp¬
tion ; and thus, the sore and its margins having been
brought to one level, cicatrization proceeds. After the
ulcer has in this way been converted into the simple sup¬
purating sore, either the same dressing may be continued,
exerting less pressure, or it may be superseded by the
medicated lint and oiled silk. When nearly closed, all
dressing may be discontinued ; the natural secretion form¬
ing a crust, under which cicatrization is speedily com¬
pleted. Of course healing will be materially assisted by
rest and elevation of the limb ; but the labouring man
cannot always afford this; and the treatment by plaster, just
described, possesses, in addition to its other virtues, this
advantage, that with it the patient can continue in the erect
posture with much greater impunity then when using any
other application. For some considerable time after cica¬
trization, the limb should continue to be supported by a
bandage or laced stocking. Another frequent ulcer is the
scrofulous sore, with the areolar tissue infiltrated by tuber-
E R Y.
cular matter, and crumbling down under a chronic disin- Surgery,
tegrating process, which yields a copious, thin, and mixed v—
discharge. Such generally form in clusters, and can be
brought to heal only after the unsound parts have been
destroyed by the potassa fusa, so as to obtain a sound foun¬
dation on w hich the reparative granulation may arise. This
description of sore, however, being combined with and
dependent on the strumous diathesis, is healed only to break
out afresh, unless constitutional means be diligently em¬
ployed to rectify the state of the system.
Sores, however, are often changing their character and
appearance, though perhaps but slightly; and consequently
demand as frequent a change in the treatment. “ A judi¬
cious practitioner, by varying his applications according to
the appearance and disposition of the sore, will serve and
benefit his patient much more efficiently than by trying
empirically this or the other new specie, or blindly apply¬
ing one remedy for every sore, because he has seen its
good effects, or been informed of its answering miraculously
in one or two instances.” Be it likewise remembered, that
in no class of diseases is attention to the general health in
all cases more requisite.
We may here allude to the general improvement in hos- Hospitals,
pital arrangement and practice, in consequence of which
the hospital sore, so long and so frequently a scourge in
those valuable institutions, is now comparatively unknown.
The ventilation, cleaning, and general arrangement of the
wards, the diet, clothing, and classification of the patients,
are all improved ; but probably nothing has tended more
to the disappearance of this formidable disease, than the
substitution of tow for sponge in the dressing of sores;
a change apparently simple and insignificant, but in reality
most important. Formerly both nurses and dressers were
in the habit of using one sponge for the sores and wounds
of a whole ward, and if in one patient unhealthy action
supervened, the vitiated discharge was soon afforded an
opportunity of inoculating all. Now, sponges are not seen
but in the operating theatre ; washing of wounds and sores
has been discontinued, because found to be prejudicial to
cicatrization ; and when the parts around require cleansing,
this is effected by means of tow, which, when used, is im¬
mediately thereafter destroyed or thrown away.
In the management of hospital sore, and other affections
of that class, the energetic application of nitric acid, or
other suitable escharotic, to the edges of the sore, after they
have been thoroughly dried, is found preferable to the ex¬
pectant treatment by poulticing or other inert appliances.
In aneurism, the discovery of Hunter has been most sue- Aneurism,
cessfully extended. Further investigation in arterial pa¬
thology, especially as to the effects of ligature, has produced
the.most important results. The accumulated knowledge
and experience, applied to practice by the talents and
courage of Scarpa, Abernethy, Astley Cooper, Liston,
Stevens, and Mott, have achieved most triumphant ad¬
vancement in surgery; for thus the means of cure have
been happily extended to cases of aneurism, formerly re¬
garded as irremediable. There are many aneurisms, and
not of unfrequent occurrence, on which the surgeons of the
last century were content to look until the tumour burst,
and their patient perished under their very gaze, which are
now fearlessly encountered, and with the best hopes of
success. In aneurism of the neck, Hunter and Scarpa led
the surgeon to believe that a ligature placed on the carotid,
between the tumour and the heart, might effect a cure,
and Cooper proved that it did so. This arresting of the
cephalic circulation is no longer looked upon with insur¬
mountable dread, for experience has shown that even both
carotids may be tied, with but a short interval between the
operations, and without any untoward result. The sur¬
geon’s knife and ligature have, in the cure of aneurism,
ventured even so near the heart as the arteria innominata,
SURGERY. 829
Surgery, but hitherto unfortunately without ultimate success; in-
deed it is doubtful whether the operation on this vessel
can ever prove successful, there being so many inevitable
obstacles to complete consolidation by ligature; as yet,
ulceration has always supervened, occasioning fatal haemor¬
rhage. 1 he subclavian has been deligated on account of
axillary aneurism. Mr Liston had the honour to be the
first who did so with success, and an equally happy result
has not been unfrequent since. Ligature of the axillary
and humeral arteries, though sometimes difficult, is re¬
garded as scarcely unusual. The aneurisms of the groin
and hip were left to run their course unmolested until
Abernethy and Stevens showed that the Hunterian opera¬
tion could be extended even to them. “ The common,
external, and internal iliacs are now tied without much
difficulty, and very often with a successful issue. These
operations are quite justifiable, provided always there has
been no mistake in diagnosis, and that there is nothing in
the state of the patient’s health or in the condition of the
arterial system to contra-indicate interference.” The ori¬
ginal operation on the femoral, on account of aneurism in
the ham or in the lower third of the thigh, is now looked
upon, when skilfully executed, as at once the simplest,
most beautiful, and most successful interference with the
larger arteries. Thus we see that all aneurisms of the ex¬
tremities are within the reach of our art, and that a certain
degree of success has attended the approaches towards the
trunk, as far as the common iliac and arteria anonyma.1 It
is to be feared that “ the force of (operative) surgery can
no further go.” It is indeed a triumph that it has gone so
far; and we cannot reasonably expect that ligatures, placed
nearer the great centre of circulation than either of the
above-mentioned vessels, can ever be productive of a suc¬
cessful result. Surgical invention and enterprise have not,
however, been easily baffled, and in those cases of aneurism
too deep to admit of the Hunterian method of operation it
has been proposed to reverse the procedure, and place a
ligature on the distal side of the tumour. The operation
has been put in practice, and in a few cases with some
temporary advantage. Great difficulty, however, has some¬
times been experienced in discovering the vessel destined
for the ligature, in consequence of displacement by the
tumour, or more or less obliteration of its calibre. In false
aneurism from wound, as at the bend of the arm, if pressure
methodically and firmly applied—the whole limb below the
wounded point being duly supported—fail to arrest the
formation of tumour, recourse is had to the ligature. If
the tumour be recent, soft, and superficial, and the parts
around not much infiltrated, the wounded point may be ex¬
posed at once by incision, and ligature placed above and
below the aperture. But if the tumour be of considerable
duration and size, ligature of the trunk, between the
tumour and heart, may be the preferable and equally suc¬
cessful proceeding.
The more important steps in effecting deligation of the
larger arteries, whether for true or false aneurism, may
here be briefly mentioned. The incisions are made with a
small, finely-edged scalpel, used lightly and cautiously;
neither directors nor blunt knives should be employed, for
they must bruise or tear to a certain extent, and the
simpler and smoother the cut is, the greater is the proba¬
bility that both wound and artery will assume a healthy
action. The vessel having been exposed, its sheath is
opened on the anterior aspect, to the extent of about an
inch, and the point of a blunt aneurism-needle is gently
passed beneath and around the artery, great care being
taken to exclude nerve and vein from its circuit. A strong
silk ligature having been thus passed, its loop is cut, and
one half withdrawn along with the needle; the other is Surgery,
firmly secured on the artery, its effect on the tumour hav-
ing, by previous pressure, been ascertained to be satisfac¬
tory. “ All this must be done without disturbing the posi¬
tion of the vessel, without detaching it from the sheath, or
breaking up its fine cellular connections laterally and be¬
hind, further than is barely sufficient for the passage of the
needle. There must be no lifting of the vessel on the
handle of the knife, or on the director, as if in triumph, for
ulceration of the arterial coats, and secondary haemorrhage
on or about the separation of the ligature, are the almost
inevitable consequences of such proceedings.” If by acci¬
dent the vessel has been disturbed from its connections,
two ligatures are to be applied, one at each termination of
the separated portion, but in general one single ligature is
much preferable. Both its ends should never be cut away
close to the knot, for, in addition to the ordinary disadvan¬
tages found to belong to this plan, there is no slight risk of
abscess, caused by the deserted knot, inducing secondary
bleeding by ulceration of the arterial coats. And indeed
the surgeon will feel more comfortable in such anxious
cases if he leave both ends pendant from the wound. For
a like reason, separation of the ligature should be through¬
out its whole course spontaneous; rash pulling at its ends
may be productive of the most serious results. The wound
is brought together and otherwise treated according to
the principles formerly detailed. Should secondary bleed¬
ing unfortunately occur, the vessel must be exposed and
tied above the source of haemorrhage. But if the original
operation have been judiciously as well as dexterously per¬
formed, and the after-treatment carefully conducted, such
an untoward result need scarcely be dreaded. Should pul¬
sation return in the tumour to an undue extent, on the
complete establishment of collateral circulation, pressure
well applied will usually suffice to perfect the obliteration
of the sac.
So much for the knife. But modern surgery has suc¬
cessfully revived the use of pressure, not seldom supersed¬
ing the ligature, with success. The pressure is made not
directly on the tumour, but at a distance from it; at the
same point, in fact, where the Hunterian ligature would lie.
It is not intense, so as to arrest the flow of blood com¬
pletely, and it need not be constant in its application.
Consequently, it is not intolerable to the majority of pa¬
tients ; and such moderate use of it has been found, in ex¬
perience, to be sufficient in many a case for satisfactory
cure of the aneurism. Being a minor procedure, it well
may be employed in all suitable cases in the first instance,
seeing that while the prospect of success is good, the risk of
hazard scarcely exists at all under careful and judicious
management, and, in the event of failure, the patient is still
left in a favourable condition for the operation by ligature.
Its great advantage over the latter is, that it avoids direct
Isesion of the arterial coats, which in all cases of idiopathic
aneurism must be more or less diseased, and consequently
prone to the casualty of secondary hemorrhage.
In dilatation or varix of the veins, if methodical pressure Veins,
and attention to the bowels fail to remove the disease, or
at least its inconveniences, a radical cure is obtained by
obstruction of the calibre of the main trunk, on the cardiac
side of the dilatation, and this is effected either by the ap¬
plication of potass, or by including about an inch of the
vein at that part, between two points of twisted suture, the
needles being passed beneath the vessel, and removed as
soon as sufficient change has been produced in the venous
coats and contents. Either method is effectual in obtain¬
ing obliteration of the vein’s calibre at the selected point;
the latter is, perhaps, in most instances the preferable, but
1 The aorta has been tied, but with a result which does not warrant repetition of the experiment; unless, indeed circumstances be
such as to render the protraction of life for but a few hours eminently desirable.
SURGERY.
830
Surgery, in both the procedure must be cautious, and the after-
v -- v—. ^ treatment watchful, in order to guard against haemorrhage
and extension of phlebitis.
Venesec- The operation of phlebotomy has always been simple
tion. and of easy execution ; in regard to it, the only modern
improvement which we have to notice is the comparative
rarity of its performance. It was too much the custom to
bleed, so as to appear to be doing something active in
treatment, not only when the proceeding has seemed to the
ignorant practitioner likely to do no harm, but also when a
wiser head could have told that it must do irremediable
mischief. The good fortune of the first phlebotomist,
Podalirius, seems to have produced in his successors an
unfortunate attachment to the operation, which has been
communicated from generation to generation, and from
which our day is not yet wholly exempt. In some cases it
is doubtless the only certain means of relief, and must be
employed readily and boldly, but in fully as many it had
better be done with a sparing hand or altogether omitted.
What can be worse, for example, than to find a patient
who has just sustained a severe accident—still labouring
under the shock which the injury has produced, pulseless,
and with the powers of the system all but extinguished—
robbed by an ignorant or reckless man, unfortunately
called to his aid, of those very powers of which he is at
the time most in need, and without which the syncope
must soon pass into death. Such a case is too frequent
even now, but it is consolatory to know that the folly of
such proceedings is becoming more and more extensively
known, and that the thoughtless, mischievous practice
of indiscriminate venesection is more and more aban¬
doned.
Bruise. A similarly absurd practice prevails in regard to the
treatment of bruise. Leeches are instantly applied, in
order that they may suck out the extravasated or “ bruised
blood,” as it is called. These little animals drink only from
the running stream, drawing for themselves from the blood¬
vessels, and therefore fail to perform what is expected of
them by their employers. At the same time, their bites,
admitting the external air to the extravasated blood, may
induce suppuration of an unheathy kind in the cellular
tissue. They are of use simply as a mode of local depletion,
in order to moderate or avert an inordinate inflammatory
process occurring as a secondary result of the accident.
The practice of blood-letting in inflammatory disease has
undergone a great revolution within the last thirty years.
Instead of being the ordinary treatment, it is now quite
exceptional. And this change seems to depend on several
circumstances: mainly these—a better acquaintance with
the pathology of the disease, an alteration in the type of
the disease itself, and a more skilful handling of the other
and simpler antiphlogistics.
Hernia. In the treatment of hernia, the advancement of anatomi¬
cal knowledge has rendered operative procedure more sim¬
ple, safe, and effective. And pathological experience hav¬
ing now fully established the great danger of delay after the
taxis, fairly tried, has been found unavailing, the operation
is had recourse to at once, with a much more certain pros¬
pect of success. In the greater number of cases the taxis
will prove successful, when employed early and with skil¬
ful perseverance. But as soon as the surgeon is satisfied
that his unarmed hands, assisted by his medical skill, are
incapable of reducing the tumour, each moment of delay
is culpable until he assumes the knife, and by it relieves
the constricted parts, for by its keen edge the patient is in¬
finitely less endangered than by even brief continuance of
the incarceration—more especially if, as is often the case,
the constricting cause can be removed by limiting the in¬
cisions to the outside of the sac, and so largely tending to
prevent all risk of peritonitis. This principle, now generally
acted on, saves many a patient who formerly would either
have perished in excruciating torture, or lingered on with Surgery,
artificial anus, noisome to others, and a burden even to
himself. But this is a subject too extensive to be here
more fully considered.
In the treatment of calculous disorders, modern improve- Calculous
ment has effected much. Chemistry, happily combined with dis°rders-
pathology, has taught the surgeon, in many cases, to antici¬
pate cure by prevention, detecting the tendency to deposit
in the secretions of the kidney, ascertaining the exact nature
of that deposit, and then applying, according to its nature,
the suitable corrective. When there is reason to believe
that calculus has actually formed in the bladder, its presence
is to be ascertained by careful sounding. Many affections—
for example, diseased kidneys or fundament, worms or other
causes of irritation in the bowels—occasion all the ordinary
symptoms of stone ; and it is only after the surgeon has dis¬
tinctly heard the stroke of his sound on the foreign body,
that he can be certain that a stone exists. The most con¬
venient instrument for exploring all parts of the bladder is
a sound, steel throughout, with a sharp and sudden curve.
When, by its cautious and patient use, the presence of a
calculus is no longer doubtful, and some estimate has also
been made of its size and form, the question then arises
between patient and surgeon as to the preferable mode of
its summary extrusion ; for removal by chemical solvents,
though sanctioned by act of Parliament, is no longer trusted
to in practice. It is only within these twenty years that a
power of selection has existed; till then, the knife alone
presented hopes of relief. Now, however, cutting is often
superseded by crushing, and rightly. Indeed it is a questio
vexata among many as to whether lithotomy or lithotrity
be the better adapted for general use ; and each has its
zealous and uncompromising advocates. As is usual in such
cases, we shall probably find that truth lies in the middle,
and that both operations are to be practised, each finding
cases to which it is peculiarly applicable. Lithotrity was at
first a very imperfect art, difficult and complicated in per¬
formance, often failing in the attainment of its object, and
not seldom followed by the most untoward results. Its
practice was likewise in a great measure confined to a par¬
ticular set of operators, not the best qualified for such un¬
dertakings, who, regarding it as a means of gain alone,
were not long in bringing discredit on its reckless and in¬
discriminate use. Thus a great advantage was given to
the old operation, over its imprudently managed rival. But
the instruments and procedure of lithotrity have of late been
greatly improved, and have become, as is usual in such im¬
provements, more easy and simple, and at the same time
more effective. They now receive the attention of every
well-educated surgeon ; the student applies to lithotomy
and lithotrity with equal care and attention, and endeavours
to perfect himself in the manipulations of both ; and in con¬
sequence, the latter operation has been rescued from the
empirical professor, and placed in the better qualified hands
of the regular practitioner. There is not now, as in the
time of “ the invasion of professed stone-grinders,” some
years ago, an indiscriminate performance of one operation,
in all cases, simply because the operator know's no other.
The circumstances of the case had then very little influence
in determining the nature of the operative procedure. If a
surgeon was applied to, the knife was recommended ; and
“ if the patient fell into the hands of the professed stone-
grinder, he was certain, under all circumstances, of being
subjected to the hammering and boring processes.” Now,
application being made to the regular practitioner, at least
in the first instance, he, equally acquainted with either mode
of operating, conscientiously advises the one which circum¬
stances require, either operating himself, or employing one
whom he may consider more dexterous and equally skilful.
Lithotrity can only be safely performed by those “ who
understand well the healthy anatomy of the urethra and
SURGERY.
831
Surgery, bladder; who are acquainted with their sympathies, vital
S—actions, and pathological changes, and who understand and
practise the treatment of their deranged functions.” And
by such it is now performed, in the cases to which it is
applicable. In patients above the age of puberty, when
the symptoms have not been of very long duration, when
the stone has been ascertained not to exceed a chestnut in
size, when the urethra is free from contraction, when the
bladder is capacious, tolerably healthy in its coats, and free
from irritability of its lining membrane, and when the indi¬
vidual is of an easy, patient disposition ; under a combina¬
tion of such circumstances, lithotrity is the preferable ope¬
ration. It is thus apparent, that possibly lithotrity may in
time almost entirely supersede lithotomy in the adult; the
chief thing necessary being, that the patient apply to a well-
qualified surgeon at the very commencement of his ailments.
But until wisdom shall pervade mankind to this extent, very
many cases must occur in which the old operation, well
performed, is much to be preferred ; and this need not be
greatly regretted, for the actual difference between the two
operations as to suffering and danger is perhaps not so great
as is generally supposed.
The simple instrument of two branches, as made by the
Messrs Weiss, has superseded all the more complicated and
less effective apparatus for lithotrity, as well as Coopers
forceps for removal of small stones by the urethra. The
instrument having been introduced into the bladder, toler¬
ably distended, is brought in contact with the stone; its
blades are opened, and the stone brought between, great
care being taken that the mucous membrane is uninjured;
the blades are then approximated by the screw, and the
interposed stone crushed more or less completely. When
the stone is single, small, and friable, one such proceeding
will suffice ; if not, the fragments are seized and bruised in
succession, either at the time, or at one or more subsequent
sittings. The screw-power is preferred to that of the ham¬
mer, as equally efficient and more safe, not endangering the
twisting or breaking of the instrument. Diluents are freely
exhibited, to promote and facilitate passage of the detritus
with the urine. Should the pain and irritation thus occa¬
sioned prove severe, opiates, hot bathing, &c., may be re¬
quired. But, in general, if the case have been judiciously
selected, and the operation skilfully performed, the subse¬
quent irritation will be but slight; and, after a few days,
examination of the bladder may be resumed, to ascertain
whether or not all the fragments have been extruded. This
exploration cannot be too minute and careful, for the great¬
est stumbling-block to the advancement of lithotrity in the
confidence of the profession has been the uncertainty as to
whether or not the bladder has by such proceedings been
completely freed from every fragment, it being well known
that but a very small portion of foreign matter remaining
will become the nucleus of further deposit, and speedily re¬
establish the disease. The advantage of lithotomy is, that,
for final exploration of the bladder, it has the finger, which,
if at all experienced, can seldom be deceived. Lithotrity
has but the sound for the same purpose, and must endea¬
vour to make patience, dexterity, and care, compensate for
the inferiority of the instrument.
But when the stone is large, and has been long resident
in the bladder, this viscus has its cavity contracted, its coats
fasciculated, and its surface irregular, affording receptacles
for the fragments, from which the most careful manipula¬
tions may not dislodge them. Besides, such a bladder will
not bear the annoyance of instruments often introduced;
indeed the mere change of a tolerably smooth stone into
angular fragments, may be sufficient to excite even fatal
disturbance of the viscus and of the system. In all such
cases, therefore, lithotomy is the preferable operation ; it
not only insures, with common care, complete removal of
the source of irritation, but also by suspending the functions
of the diseased viscus, gives it the advantage of rest, as well Surgery,
as the relief caused by loss of blood from the neighbourino- i „
vessels. Even when the bladder is tolerably sound, a large
stone of ordinary consistence is unfavourable to lithotrity;
for the fragments must also be large, until after much mani¬
pulation ; and attempts to pass such fragments must be
attended with much pain and some danger. The immediate
result of lithotrity in such cases is, “ like the partial delivery
of a pregnant woman,” very unsatisfactory. The fragments
may become firmly impacted in the urethra, causing reten¬
tion of urine, and all its direful consequences. When this
happens, and the impacted portion will not yield to an at¬
tempt to push it again into the bladder, it must at once be
reached and removed by incision in the mesial line ; and
then the surgeon may take the opportunity of extending the
wound a little farther, and with his finger and a scoop effec¬
tually clear the bladder of all remaining detritus. Litho¬
trity is not very applicable to young subjects ; the parts are
not sufficiently capacious, and the concretion, usually of
oxalate of lime, may be too hard to be easily pulverized.
This is the less to be regretted, as in them well-performed
lithotomy seldom proves unfortunate. Among them, there¬
fore, and “ those of mature age who are so foolish or so ill
informed as to permit the stone to attain an inordinate bulk,”
lithotomy must still prevail. It is an operation certainly
more alarming to the patient, and to the surgeon may be
more difficult and perplexing; but when dexterously and
skilfully executed, we doubt much if its average risk ex¬
ceeds, or even equals, that of promiscuous lithotrity ; its
efficiency is indisputably greater. The mode of operation
pursued by Mr Liston, the most dexterous, elegant, and
successful lithotomist of recent times, is similar to the me¬
thod of Cheselden. For its details, we beg to refer to Mr
Liston’s work on Practical Surgery, where the modern
lithotriteur is also minutely described. He attributes much
of his success to limited incision of the prostrate, so as to
preserve the internal cellular tissue of the pelvis from infil¬
tration of urine ; and to the insertion of a gum elastic tube
in the wound, so as to afford a free exit to the urine, and
diminish the risk of its poisonous infiltration, while at the
same time it facilitates the arresting of haemorrhage, should
this occur. “ The operation of lithotomy,” says he, “ if
performed in the easy and simple method recommended, is
effected with much less pain than is supposed ; it is com¬
pleted, with perfect safety, in a short space of time, and
offers very favourable results. It is, however, an operation
which ought never to be undertaken without due considera¬
tion of all the circumstances that may arise ; and the sur¬
geon who does undertake it must have resources within
himself to meet and overcome difficulties in all the various
stages of the proceeding.”
In the treatment of stricture of the urethra, all armed Stricture,
bougies have been laid aside, in favour of the plain metallic
catheter and bougie. The milder cases are easily over¬
come. A metallic bougie, selected of such a size as will
with no great difficulty pass the constricted part, is gently
insinuated along the urethra. After two, three, or four
days, the introduction is repeated. Then at each farther
re-introduction, at an interval of a few days, the size of the
instrument is gradually increased, until it completely fills
the orifice ; a sign that sufficient distention of the canal has
been achieved. After this, it is right to pass a full-sized
instrument occasionally, at long intervals, to counteract any
tendency towards return of the contraction. Soft pliable
bougies may sometimes be useful for mere exploration of
the canal, but are not of much use otherwise ; it being diffi¬
cult to guide their points, or ascertain the exact direction
which they assume. During the cure, the state of the
urine should be strictly attended to ; for its acridity—one
of the causes of stricture—may, by irritation of the urethra,
materially retard progress. Should the bougie cause seri-
832 S U R G
Surgery. 0us irritation of the urethra, as sometimes happens, the in-
terval between its introductions must be increased, allowing
the painful effects of each to subside before another is at¬
tempted, else much more harm than good will accrue from
the use of the instrument.
It is important to remember that it is not necessary
always to pass the bougie completely through the con¬
tracted part of the urethra in order to obtain its remedial
and relaxing effect. To pass the instrument down and
partially into the stricture is often enough ; repeating this
from time to time, till at length the instrument slips through
into the bladder; and a medium-sized instrument, as No. 5
or 6 is often, in cases of tight stricture, safer, as well as
more expeditious, thus employed in what has been called
the “ tunnelling method,” than a small instrument, such as
No. 1, thrust through, or attempted to be thrust through,
at each introduction.
For the penetration of tight unyielding strictures, a farm
silver catheter is the most appropriate instrument, its size
being proportioned to the extent of contraction. For very
obvious reasons, great caution must be observed in its use;
steady, cautious, patient, and gentle pressure, in the right
direction, must never be superseded by sudden and daring
force, or irreparable mischief may ensue. “ Lightness of
hand, and gentleness of manipulation, will often enable a
surgeon to overcome difficulties which to others may have
proved insuperable. The operation of introducing a cathe¬
ter through what has been called an impermeable stricture,
is without doubt the most difficult in the whole range of
surgical practice, and demands all the prudence, science,
and skill of a master. The art can only be acquired, and
that gradually, by frequent practice.” When the stricture
is very tight, and has afforded much opposition to the pas¬
sage of the catheter, and more particularly when the ope¬
ration has been undertaken on account of retention of urine,
it is well to retain the instrument secured in the strictured
part for twenty-four or eight-and-forty hours. I he cure is
thus much expedited, as well as recurrence of the retention
prevented. The presence of the foreign body in the stric¬
ture calls up a natural effort for its extrusion, resulting in
relaxation of the part, with profuse discharge ; and so re¬
markable is the dilatation thus effected, that on withdraw¬
ing the instrument at the end of the time already specified,
it is found “ lying quite loose ” in the passage, although at
its introduction it had been grasped most tightly, and
firmly fixed in the stricture. Immediately after its with¬
drawal, a much larger instrument can usually be introduced
with ease, and the cure is then proceeded with as m ordi¬
nary cases. Sometimes the parts so strenuously resist the
presence of the foreign body, that it is prudent to remove
the instrument in less time than we have mentioned. U nder
no circumstances should it be retained beyond two days.
It is apt to become coated with calculous deposit; and, be¬
sides, there is danger of its irritation proving excessive ;
ulceration may take place in the urethra, or abscess form
along its course. , ,
Thus many a bad stricture may be overcome, and the
urethra restored to its healthy functions and dimensions.
But, as already said, prudence and experience are in¬
separable from the safe use of the small catheter; with
these, it is a most valuable instrument, and saves many
a patient who might otherwise have become t e victim
of dangerous operation. It is seldom, indeed, tiat we
now hear of puncture of the bladder, even by the rectum.
And we as seldom hear of the catheter producing teais
and wounds of the urethra, followed by abscess and
fistula, or urinary infiltration, ending in the death of the
patient, or at least in the destruction of a large portion of
his genital integument and cellular tissue. When from
any cause urine has escaped into the cellular tissue of the
perineum, free and deep incision, so as to afford ready
E R Y.
escape to the poisonous fluid, cannot be too early re- Surgery,
sorted to.
Should it happen that the surgeon, notwithstanding skill
and perseverance, is foiled in passing the catheter, and
relieving distention, then, instead of puncturing the blad¬
der, he may proceed to “ make a free opening in the peri¬
neum, directly upon the obstructed part; to cut upon the
end of the catheter, carrying the knife forwards; to open
the dilated portion of the urethra, and then to pass the
catheter on to the bladder.” Thus the viscus is relieved,
and a sure commencement made of the cure of the stric¬
ture, while no permanent inconvenience ensues, as is apt
to be the case after puncture of any part of the bladder.
In passing the catheter to relieve retention caused by pros¬
tatic disease, it should never be forgotten that the urethra
is in such cases much elongated, and that in consequence
the instrument ought to be three or four inches longer than
those in ordinary use. The treatment of the enlargement
of that gland is entirely palliative; proposals for its re¬
moval by excision cannot be ranked among the modern
improvements.
There is a class of strictures, tight, irritable, relapsing,
and sometimes associated with great tendency to untoward
sympathy of the system, in which the ordinary modes of -
treatment prove unsatisfactory at the best, and sometimes
altogether abortive. Fortunately, these are comparatively
few. For their cure incision is advisable; dividing the
whole of the constricted parts, and subsequently maintain¬
ing due dilatation by means of bougies. The incision may
be from without, or from within ; the former preferable, in
most cases, as being exact in its operation, and avoiding
risk by urinous infiltration of the tissues. 'I he safest mode
of performance is on the grooved staff, as recommended by
Mr Syme.
Diseases and injuries of the windpipe are better under- Diseases
stood, and more successfully treated, than formerly. In the and in-
latter, the surgeon is less meddlesome, and his patient
benefited accordingly. In wounds of the throat it was for- jpeWln
merly the custom, after having secured the larger arterial
branches, to proceed at once to closure of the wound, drag¬
ging it together by stitches and plasters, and covering all
by lint and bandage, as if the principal object were to con¬
ceal the horrid gash from view. The consequence was,
that the blood, which continued to ooze, finding no ready
outlet externally, collected in the air-passages, and suffo¬
cated the patient, provided, as was most probable, he had
not at the time sufficient energy for forcible expectoration ;
or if this danger was escaped, it was shortly succeeded by
one equally imminent, closure of the windpipe at the in¬
jured part, from inflammatory swelling of the wound. Now
the intelligent surgeon is less precipitate; he knows the
danger of the old system, and avoids it by treating cut¬
throat on the same principles as he would an ordinary
wound, making no approximation until all oozing has ceased,
and then only drawing together the corners, trusting the
centre to the more gentle apposition by bending the head
forward, and by bandage retaining the chin approximated
to the top of the sternum. Thus a free outlet is left to
the discharges which must form; for the transverse nature
of the wound, and the constant motion of its edges in re¬
spiration and deglutition, render union by the first intention
impossible. Immediate risks are thus avoided ; and if the
patient’s energy prove sufficient, the wound will gradually
close by granulation. But too often, at least in attempted
suicides, a low fever ensues, against which all efforts to¬
ward cure are unavailing. The patient should be kept in
a comfortably warm and equable temperature, and the fore
part of the neck should be protected by some loose cover¬
ing, that the inspired air may be, as nearly as possible, of
the same temperature as in natural respiration. Thus the
occurrence of bronchitis is so far obviated; and so long as
S U E G E R Y. 833
Surgery, air passes through the wound, no other dressing need be
applied. When the pharynx is involved, nourishment is
given from time to time through a tube introduced by the
mouth; not through the wound, lest contraction of the
tracheal opening should be interfered with, and its edges
cicatrize separately, leaving the patient in a very miserable
plight. Sometimes respiration becomes obstructed by
swelling of the mucous membrane and accumulation of
viscid mucus, so as to endanger suffocation, and render it
necessary to open the windpipe longitudinally below the
obstructed part. Tracheotomy has also been proposed as
a preliminary part of the treatment, so as to permit imme¬
diate and accurate approximation of the wound, with a
chance of primary union taking place. The tracheotomy,
in this case, acts as a safety-valve, preventing untoward
consequences.
In injuries of the interior of the throat, tracheotomy is
sometimes necessary. When the glottis has been injured,
for example, by the swallowing of acids, or hot water, or by
the inhalation of steam, should the ordinary active treat¬
ment fail to arrest the urgent symptoms, tracheotomy must
be had recourse to without delay, otherwise the patient will
perish, either by immediate suffocation, or by effusion con¬
sequent on imperfect pulmonary circulation. A simple blow
on the larynx may so completely paralyze the parts, as to
render opening of the windpipe necessary for restoring
the respiration. And the operation is also required when
foreign bodies have lodged in the air-passages, and cannot
be expelled by expectoration. If allowed to remain, they
are productive of the greatest annoyance ; perhaps suffoca¬
tion is immediate; and if they do not speedily induce in¬
flammatory accession of the most serious nature, they are
certain ultimately to occasion phthisis, or other chronic
disease of fatal tendency. If the foreign body is loose, it
will be spontaneously ejected from the opening; if fixed,
it must be dislodged by forceps.1
In diseases of the air-passages, tracheotomy often be¬
comes necessary, on account of obstruction at the top of
the windpipe preventing free entrance of air into the lungs.
In acute inflammatory affections, croup, for example, its
employment is open to difference of opinion. In the early
stage, it has been said, on high authority, that “whilst
active antiphlogistic remedies are indicated, and considered
likely to afford relief, it could not with propriety be pro¬
posed ; in the latter stages, after lymph has formed, when
the lungs are gorged, and effusion has commenced at the
base of the brain, no good purpose can be answered by an
operation.” Sometimes, in adults, a favourable opportu¬
nity for the operation may be selected between these
stages; all the more as, in them, the morbid change of the
lining membrane is more frequently confined to the larynx.
And even in children, when the case is advanced, urgent,
and apparently incapable of further benefit by simple re¬
medial means, it comes to be a question whether the chance
of relief by tracheotomy, doubtful though in many cases it
must necessarily be, ought not to be afforded. To the
chronic affections the operation is more applicable. Even
in phthisis laryngea, the most intractable of these, ad¬
vantage may be derived from it when performed at an
early period; the diseased parts above the opening being
set at rest, and an opportunity afforded of making direct
application, through the wound, of the suitable remedies
to the ulcerated surface. But it is in oedema of the glottis,
whether as a primary affection, or supervening on previous
disease, that its beneficial results are most frequent and
most apparent; the patient is at once relieved from im¬
pending suffocation ; the swollen parts are put to rest, and
in time subside ; and after a while they so far recover their
healthy condition, as to admit of closure of the wound and Surgery,
re-establishment of the natural course of respiration. In
all cases where opening of the windpipe is required, whether
on account of accident or disease, tracheotomy is preferable
to laryngotomy, and though a little more difficult, is equally
safe in performance. An opening in the cricothyroid
membrane will not always suffice for detection and removal
of a foreign body; and being placed in the ordinary site of
laryngeal disease, will usually fail to afford relief when
undertaken on that account. The incisions in tracheo¬
tomy are made very carefully, so that stray vessels may be
pushed aside in safety; the trachea is pierced during the
act of deglutition, when the larynx is elevated and the
windpipe elongated; a silver tube is immediately intro¬
duced, of calibre proportioned to the object in view, and of
such a form as to prevent oozing from the wound by com¬
pression of the edges. After a short time all irritation
from the presence of the tube ceases; but during the
whole cure great attention must be paid that it be kept
clear of the vitiated mucus. It should also be protected
by some loose covering, in the same manner and for like
reasons as in cases of cut-throat. In the treatment of all
affections of the throat, the possibility of tracheotomy be¬
coming requisite should always be kept in view; and the
curative applications should consequently be confined as
much as possible to the sides of the neck, leaving the fore
part free, otherwise much difficulty may be thrown in the
way of the operator.
The treatment of diseases of the rectum has become Diseases of
simplified and improved along with the rest of surgery.tlle rectum.
“ Many attempts have been made to mystify the subject
of diseases of this region, and to separate them in a great
measure from general surgery. There is no such diffi¬
culty as has been supposed in understanding their nature ;
the principles which should guide their management are
simple, and the means, operative and otherwise, easily
enough applied.” Of late a variance of opinion has arisen
in regard to the treatment after operation on the rectum;
one party maintaining that in all cases little or no dressing
is required; the other, that in every case stuffing and com¬
pression of the wound are essential to the safety of the
patient. As is usual when opinions are in extreme oppo¬
sition, we find that truth occupies a middle place. In
slight cases of operation, for fistula, haemorrhoids, See., no
more dressing is required than what is sufficient to prevent
immediate union of the divided parts, especially when the
good general rule is followed out, of always tying every
artery that springs, however small, in this quarter; while
in others, a degree of compression must be made on the
divided surface, proportioned to the extent of the incision
and the probability of haemorrhage by oozing. It would
be very unnecessary to cram the wound in the first class
of cases ; in the second, it would be equally unwise to leave
the parts wholly unsupported.
.As the pathology of tumours has become more and more Tumours,
understood, operative procedure has been withdrawn from
some and extended to others. Diagnosis having become
both more easy and more accurate, we can now more
readily distinguish between those of a benign and those of
a malignant disposition. In regard to the latter, experience
has taught us usually to forbear from operative interference,
unless at the very first accession of the disease ; for though
the more sitnple tumours, even when of large size and long
duration, may be removed with every prospect of per¬
manent cure, yet in those of a malignant nature, immunity
from recurrence of the disease can be hoped for only when
the removal is early ; when the local affection is still limited
and loosely attached; when there is a certainty of being
1 A most interesting case of foreign body in the bronchus, successfully removed by operation, is detailed by Mr Liston in his Prac¬
tical Surgery, p. 371.
VOL. >'X. ’£) N
834
Surgery.
SURGERY.
able to remove, not only the morbid structure itself, but
some portion of the unaltered tissues which invest it; be¬
fore any affection of the neighbouring lymphatics can be
detected; and before the general system seems to have
been both largely and permanently involved. Among the
more benign tumours, perhaps the most remaikable exten¬
sion of active surgery is in regard to the solid tumours of
the jaw. Thirty years ago these formidable formations
were looked upon with horror and dread, as one and all of
the most malignant tendency, and were consequently left to
their own course. But now we have been taught that such
is not, and ought not to be, the case; that many doubtless
are most malignant, and must not be interfered with; but
that others, and sometimes even those of the most for¬
midable appearance, are sufficiently local and apathetic to
warrant the adoption of active interference with the most
sanguine hopes of success. Both the upper and lower jaws,
involved in large and frightful tumours, have of late years
been removed by operation ; and when the case has been
judiciously selected, good success has been invariable. In
the soft medullary tumour of the upper jaw, commencing
in the antrum, an opportunity warranting interference can
seldom occur; for before the morbid formation has ap¬
peared externally in the mouth or nose, it has not only
completely involved the bone in which it originated, but
also included in the diseased mass the palate-bone, the eth¬
moidal cells, the orbit, and even the sphenoidal sinuses. It
is only when such a disease, at an early period of its exist¬
ence, is confined to the antrum, that removal of the superior
maxillary bone can be of service; but unfortunately its
true nature is seldom discovered until a portion of the
tumour has become apparent by the giving way of the
parietes; and when that has occurred the case is hopeless,
for its extension backwards very far exceeds the outward
protrusion. In its first stage the prominence of the cheek
has the same smooth glistening appearance as in chronic
abscess of the antrum; but the parietes of the tumour are
hard and unyielding; they soon thin at one or more points,
there communicating a pulpy feeling to the finger; and
when they have completely given way, the ravages of the
disease are as rapid as uncontrollable. The more benign
tumour in this situation—originating in the bone, and
usually the result of injury—is, on the contrary, slow in its
progress and of very firm consistence; its surface is lobu-
lated, and if ulcerated by accident, soon heals again; the
internal structure, of a firm fibrous character, is limited by
a dense cellular cyst; and the neighbouring bones are
either simply displaced, or removed more or less by inter¬
stitial absorption; the progress of the tumour is in conse¬
quence almost entirely towards the surface. It is in such
cases that the surgeon does not now hesitate to remove the
superior maxillary bone ; for with it he knows that he can
take the whole diseased formation. It is doubtless a for¬
midable operation, and not unattended with danger ; but
the risk is insignificant when compared with the ultimate
benefit likely to accrue. It is, therefore, evidently of the
highest importance to distinguish accurately these two
classes of tumour, the treatment suitable to each being so
widely different; in the one case operation is usually inad¬
missible, while in the other the sooner it is had recourse to
the greater is the probability of a successful result. Care
should also be taken not to confound either with the more
simple affection of accumulated fluid in the enlarged an¬
trum ; for it has happened that a surgeon, after having made
up his mind to attempt removal of the superior maxilla, has,
“ on trying to divide the connections of that bone, had his
hands covered with purulent matter, and himself with shame
and confusion.” The same general description applies to Surgery,
tumours of the lower jaw as to those of the upper, with this ‘V**'
difference, that the relative position of the former some¬
what prolongs the favourable opportunity at which tumours
even of malignant tendency may be removed. That very
many tumours of the jaws are attributable to disease, or
even faulty position, of the teeth, and to unskilful dental
operations, is a fact as true as it is important, and should
direct both surgeon and patient to greater and more fre¬
quent attention to those influential little portions of the
osseous system. After the operation on either jaw, an un¬
seemly void of course remains; but nature, assisted occa¬
sionally by the dentist, does wonders in repairing this, and
the actual deformity is in many cases surprisingly slight.1
In operations for the removal of tumours in the soft parts,
we have elsewhere stated that the incisions should be so
planned as to divide the principal vessels at the outset, as
thus both time and blood are saved. If the vessels impli¬
cated are large, temporary pressure on the trunk may be
made by the assistant; but it can seldom if ever be neces¬
sary to practise a preliminary operation for the securing of
that trunk by ligature. In most cases the dissection of the
tumour should be made as rapidly as is consistent with the
safety of important parts in the neighbourhood. But when
the tumour is suspected of a malignant tendency, the dura¬
tion of the proceeding must not be considered ; the dissec¬
tion must be methodical and deliberate. As it proceeds
the parts must be examined carefully by both the finger and
eye ; and on its completion, the removed mass must be
minutely surveyed, lest any shred of morbid formation be
left in the wound. No successful result can be hoped for,
unless the whole altered structure is completely and freely
removed. Another point in regard to operations on tumours
ought never to be forgotten, namely, that the most simple
and best dispositioned formations may, in the course of
time, degenerate into the malignant and intractable, and
therefore should not be exposed to this contingency ; they
should be early removed, while yet simple, and auspicious
of successful results.
Vascular tumours, of erectile tissue, are now safely
and efficiently removed by ligature. Formerly they were
usually left undisturbed. Sometimes attempts at excision
were made, but the results were truly discouraging, the
haemorrhage proving most alarming, and not unfrequently
fatal. In minor cases, obliteration of the vessels may be
safely effected by vaccination, pressure, acupuncture, in¬
jection, seton, or the application of escharotics. But such
treatment is inapplicable to the erectile tumours of large
size. These are best managed by ligature, arresting their
circulation, and so producing sphacelus of the adventitious
structure. When the formation is of a broad base, several
ligatures are required, passed beneath the tumour by
needles ; and when the integument is free, or but slightly
involved, it should be reflected by preliminary incision, so
that these ligatures may be the more effectually applied.
By similar procedure, even enlargement of the thyroid
gland may be removed. Of course no one would think of
attacking the whole tumour on account of the mere de¬
formity ; but it sometimes happens that enlargement of the
isthmus occasions difficult respiration, congestion of the
cerebral vessels, and other alarming symptoms; and in
such cases the offending part has been successfully re¬
moved by a combination of incision with ligature, using
the knife as deeply as the haemorrhage will permit, and
then completing the isolation of the lobe by strong liga¬
tures applied by transfixion.
In the treatment of venereal affections, mercurial supre-
1 For details of the operation we again refer to Liston’s Practical Surgery, a work of great value, from the perusal of which both
practitioner and student will derive much profit, and to which, we beg to acknowledge, we have been not a little indebted in the course
of the present article.
Surinam
II
Surplice.
Venereal
disease.
Hydrocele.
Restora¬
tive sur¬
gery.
The nose.
S U R
macy has gradually given way to the influence of common
sense, and the disease has consequently become more mild
and tractable, particularly in its secondary forms. When
the exhibition of mercury seems advisable, little usually
suffices; it is used, not abused as formerly.
Hydrocele, which was at one time the apology for very
severe surgical proceedings, by knife, setons, and escha-
rotics, is now under very simple treatment; the palliative—
is mere tapping of the cavity; the permanent—injection of
it, after tapping, by some stimulating fluid, such as tincture
of iodine, or port-wine ; the former is usually preferred, in¬
jected in small quantity, and allowed to remain. But great
care must be taken during injection that none of the fluid
enter the cellular tissue of the scrotum, otherwise violent
inflammation must ensue in the infiltrated parts.
Restorative surgery, in former years scarcely attempted,
is now making rapid progress. Noses are made and re¬
paired most adroitly, not according to the old inconvenient
system of the European father of rhinoplasties, but by a
modification of the plan practised by the Koomas, a caste
of Hindoos, and first introduced into this country by Mr
Carpue. This decorative operation was at one time very
successfully practised by Mr Liston, the author of an im¬
portant change in the procedure—not bringing the columna
from the forehead, but waiting till the new apex and alse so
obtained are consolidated, and then fashioning a column out
of the upper lip. By this little operation a more vigorous
and substantial support is obtained for the new parts ; and,
besides the lip, which formerly hung tumid and pendulous,
is at the same time very much improved. Some of these
nasal constructions are scarcely to be distinguished from the
natural feature at a little distance, are quite sufficient for
the ordinary uses of that organ, and sometimes have been
brought to desiderate and enjoy the questionable accom¬
plishment of snuff-taking.
By an operation conducted on similar principles as the
rhinoplastic, the lower lip is renewed from beneath the
chin; the ear, or rather portions of it, from the integument
behind; and deficiencies in the urethra can be closed by
adaptation of a portion of either the prepuce or loose neigh¬
bouring integument. Such proceedings some may affect to
disregard as trivial; but they are not looked upon as such
by the unfortunate individuals to whom they are applicable,
and really constitute a most interesting and useful depart¬
ment of operative surgery.
SUE 835
Great improvement in both looks and usefulness may Surrey,
also be achieved for the lip, by means of incision alone, ^ v '
without any transplantation of parts; the knife being so
directed as to loosen existing relations, and admit of new
position and play.
Harelip, one of the most disagreeable of the congenital Harelip,
deficiencies, can be very perfectly remedied by paring the
edges of the fissure, and securing them in close and accu¬
rate apposition by two or more points of twisted suture.
According to the principles already detailed, no further
dressing is applied ; and if the patient be otherwise in good
health, and the parts protected from external injury, adhe¬
sion will seldom or never fail to occur. The most im¬
portant part of the operation, as regards restoration of the
lip’s natural appearance, is complete removal, by the paring
of the rounded margins where the membrane that covers
the edge of the fissure joins the true prolabium. If this be
not attended to the operation is imperfect, for a most un¬
seemly notch remains in the lip ; in fact, the fissure is merely
diminished, not obliterated. But when these rounded por¬
tions are completely removed, and the operation is in other
respects well conducted, a mere line of cicatrization is all
that remains of the deformity.
Club-foot, a most inconvenient as well as unseemly mal- Clubfoot,
formation, may sometimes be remedied in children by simple
means, merely applying the necessary retentive apparatus,
until the parts become fixed in the normal position in which
that apparatus places them. But, in most cases, division of
tendon is also required; which can be freely and safely
effected by subcutaneous incision, so as to slacken the ab¬
normal bonds completely, and admit of entire restoration to
the normal state. To other deformities the principle of
subcutaneous section has been happily applied with the best
success; a field much too wide, however, for consideration
in detail here.
We have thus briefly and imperfectly sketched some of
the subjects which naturally occur to us as prominent ex¬
amples of the modern advancement of surgery. It were
easy to swell the list, in both number and illustration.
But our assigned limits have already been attained, if not
exceeded; and enough has probably been said, both to
convey a general idea of the improvement recently effected,
and to encourage a hope that such progress will still con¬
tinue, year after year, bringing the practice of this useful,
enlightened, and noble art closer to perfection, (j. m-r.)
SURINAM, a river of the colony of Dutch Guiana,
which is sometimes called by its name, rises in a mountain-
chain in the south of the colony, and flows northwards
through its centre into the Atlantic, which it enters near
Paramaribo, after a course of about 300 miles. Its
chief tributaries are the Commewyne, Errewyne, and Para.
Large vessels can ascend the river for 30 miles. The
banks are in general well wooded; but below Paramaribo
they are laid out in plantations. The mouth of the Suri¬
nam is defended by forts.
SURPLICE, the habit of the officiating clergy in the
Church of England. By Can. 58, every minister saying
the public prayers, or ministering the sacrament or other
rites of the church, shall wear a decent and comely surplice
with sleeves, to be provided at the charge of the parish.
But by 1 Eliz. c. 2, and 13 and 14 Car. II., the garb pre¬
scribed by act of parliament, in the second year of King
Edward VI. is enjoined; and this requires, that in the
saying or singing of matins, and even songs, baptizing and
burying, the minister in parish churches and chapels shall
| use a surplice. And in all cathedral churches and colleges,
the archdeacon, dean, provosts, masters, prebendaries, and
fellows, being graduates, may use in the choir, besides their
surplices, such hoods as pertain to their several degrees;
but in all other places every minister shall be at liberty to
use a surplice or not. And hence, in marrying, churching
of women, and other offices not specified in this rubric, and
even in the administration of the holy communion, it seems
that a surplice is not necessary. Indeed, for the holy com¬
munion, the rubric appoints a white alb plain, which differs
from the surplice in being close-sleeved, with a vestment
or cope.
SURREY, one of the smallest of the English counties, Boun-
has the Thames for its northern boundary, Berkshire and Varies, ex-
Hampshire on the west, Sussex on the south, and Kent on tent’ and
the east. Its form is nearly that of an oblong quadrangle ; d.escriP'
its utmost length, from east to west, about 39£ miles ; tl0n‘
its breadth, 25J miles. According to Parliamentary re¬
turns its superficial area is 789 square miles, or 485,760
acres; though Stevenson estimates it at 519,040 acres.
It lies between 51. 5. and 51. 31. N. Lat., and 3. E.
and 51. W. Long.
That portion of it included in the valley of the Thames
is exceedingly rich and fertile; and the scenery is there
diversified by leafy dells, waving corn-fields, picturesque
ascents, and prolific woodlands. The western and southern
836
SURREY.
Surrey, districts exhibit, on the contrary, wide barren heaths and
gorse-covered commons, so that Fuller’s quaint description
is not altogether exaggerated. “ The county of Surrey,”
he says, “is not improperly compared to a cynnamon-tiee,
whose bark is far better than the body thereof; for the
skirts and borders bounding this shire are rich and fruitful,
whilst the ground in the inward parts thereof is very
hungry and barren, though by reason of the clear air and
clean wayes, full of many gentde habitations. .Aubrey
speaks of it in very similar language: — “It has been
likened by some to a coarse cloth with a rich bordure or
frin"e, the inner part being less fruitful than the skirts.” A
rano-e of chalk-hills, often attaining a considerable height,
traverses the shire from east to west; the northern slopes
clothed with verdure, and affording many noble prospects ;
the southern, barren, precipitous, and rugged, but note¬
worthy for their elevation and romantic character. Among
The Surrey f pe North Downs may be particularised Cooper’s Hill, ren-
hil18, dered famous by Denham’s vigorous verse; St Anne’s Hill,
associated with the memory of Charles James Fox; the
wooded heights of Norwood ; Banstead Downs ; Box Hill,
and Sanderstead Hill. Of the South Downs, most worthy
of notice are Leith Hill, so celebrated for the richness and
extent of the prospects which it commands; the road from
Albury, which affords a view of the whole extent of the
Weald ; Tilburstow Hill, near Godstone ; and Anstie-bury
Hill, overlooking a landscape of the utmost beauty.
Its geolo- The geological characteristics of the county have been
gical as- identified by Dr Mantell with three principal groups,
P60*1, namely, the Wealden, which is the lowermost and most
ancient; the Chalk, which overlays it; and the London
Clay, filling up the depressions or basins of the chalk.
Upon these last-named strata have accumulated, in many
places, those drifts of sand, loam, and gravel known as
post-tertiary detritus, or diluvium. In the neighbourhood
of London,'on Richmond, Tooting, and Wandsworth Com¬
mons, may be found the blue and tenacious London clay,
yielding occasionally the bones and teeth of extinct mam¬
malia ; of birds, serpents, and crocodiles ; fishes, Crustacea,
nautili, and other marine shells. Epsom and Bagshot
Heath lie upon the Bagshot Sand. The North Downs are
entirely of the chalk formation, affording ammonites, nau¬
tili, and belemnites ; corals and other zoophytes; echini,
Crustacea, and the bones of saurians and turtles. The
Shanklin, or lower green sand, occasionally rising to a
considerable elevation, may be found at Reigate, Dorking,
Godaiming, and Tilburstow Hill. The Wealden occupies
almost the whole of the southern portion of the country.
The district between the Thames and a line running
through Croydon, Sutton, Epsom, Leatherhead, and Guild¬
ford exhibits Bagshot Sand; between the boundary just
indicated and the northern slopes of the Surrey Downs
spreads the chalk formation. Shanklin Sand lies between
the latter and the range of Tilburstow Hill, Bletchingley,
and Leith Hill, a range which separates it from the
Wealden.
Climate. The face of the county being so varied, it is easy to
understand that there will prevail extraordinary differences
of temperature. The northern and southern districts are
somewhat damp; in the former from their vicinity to the
Thames, in the latter from the flatness of the surface and
the luxuriance of the woodlands. The air on the chalk
hills is, on the contrary, of a dry and bracing character.
But, on the whole, Surrey may justly be regarded as a
healthy county. Its climate is usually bland and genial,
encouraging a quick vegetation and an early harvest. Ihe
popularity of its towns among fashionable places of resort
is, in a great measure, due to their salubrity; and for
different classes of invalids, the faculty constantly appre¬
ciate the advantages of Richmond, Dorking, Esher, and
Reigate.
In the neighbourhood of London the cultivated land is Surrey,
principally devoted to the production of those esculents ^
required for the metropolitan markets. Acres of market- Products,
gardens are there in continual cultivation. Chertsey and
Godaiming produce yearly a large supply of carrots, a
vegetable first introduced by the Flemings when driven
into England by the persecutions of Alva; but potatoes
and cabbages are more generally and more extensively
raised. Mitcham is famous for its flower-farms, devoted to
the culture of medicinal herbs, such as lavender, mint,
chamomile, penny-royal, rosemary, and hyssop. Farnham
is celebrated for its hops, which flourish abundantly on its
calcareous soil. Though now a principal staple of the
district, the hop culture does not date farther back than
1597, when, according to Aubrey, it was introduced by Mr
Bignell, a Suffolk gentleman. The varieties chiefly culti¬
vated are the “white-bine grape hop,” the “red-bined
orchard hop,” and the “ never black.” Red clover is exten¬
sively grown in the meadow-lands of Surrey, and sainfoin
upon its extensive chalk-hills. Sir Richard Weston is said
to have introduced the cultivation of the trefoil and turnip
about the middle of the seventeenth century. Wheat and
barley are largely produced, but not oats or rye.
Surrey possesses no manufactures of an indigenous'hla.mifa.c-
character ; for the tanneries of Bermondsey, and the pot- tures.
teries and bone-factories of Lambeth belong rather to the
metropolis than to the county. On the banks of the
Wandle there are some important mills, especially those of
copper, snuff, silk, and paper. Near Wandsworth are the
extensive works of Price’s Patent Candle Company, and
Watney’s Distillery: Beaufoy’s Vinegar Distillery, the
Breweries of Barclay and Perkins, and Goding; and
Doulton’s Potteries are seated on the southern banks of
the Thames. Apsley Pellatt’s well-known Glass-works
occupy large premises in Holland Street, Blackfriars.
Surrey is not associated with any particular breed of Live stock,
domestic animals. The horses employed are chiefly of the
large black kind, found at the great fairs of Croydon, Ewell,
and Kingston. The breeds of sheep most esteemed are
the South Downs, the Upland-Merino South Down, the
large Wiltshire, the Dorsetshire, the Mendip, and the
Romney. Near the metropolis the cows, chiefly kept to
supply South London with milk, are of the short-horned or
Holderness kind, though the Alderney, the Suffolk, the
Galloways, and the Welsh are also encouraged. Dorking
is noted for a peculiar breed of fowls.
To carry its products to the London market, and to Rivers,
maintain a communication between its principal towns, as canals, and
well as to facilitate the frequent visits of tourists, there ex-iai roa s’
ists in the county a complete net-work of rivers, railroads,
and canals. Of the Thames, which forms its northern
boundary, we need not speak. “ The chalky Wey, that
rolls a milky wave,” enters the shire near Frensham, flows
through the vale of Farnham, passes Moor Park and
Waverley Abbey, proceeds eastward through fertile mea¬
dows and agreeable valleys to Godaiming and Guildford,
and swollen by several streams, washes the town of Wey-
bridge before emptying its waters into the lhames a mile
distant, at a point called Ham Haw. It is rendered navig¬
able for twenty miles from its mouth by means of locks
and auxiliary canals. The Mole, characterised by different
poets from the peculiarities of its career as the “nousling
Mole,” the “ sullen Mole that hides his diving flood,” and
the “ silent Mole,” enters Surrey in several small rivulets
which unite near Gatwick, and runs onwards to Betchworth.
Near Box Hill it flows into the numerous apertures in its
banks and bed called Swallows, which in summer reduce
its waters to an almost imperceptible channel, and have
given rise to the fiction that at this part of its course it
runs underground. Through the vale of Mickleham it
winds to Leatherhead, and thence, with numerous meander-
SURREY
837
Surrey.
ings, past Stoke d’Abernon, Cobham, and Esher Place to
East Moulsey, where it joins the Thames. The Wandle
(or Vandle—Pope’s “blue transparent Vandalis”) rises at
Croydon, and increased by several springs which well up
from the meadows of Carshalton, runs northward by
Mitcham and Beddington to Wandsworth, where, after a
brief but useful course of ten miles, it flows into the
Thames. A small but pellucid stream, the Hogg's Mill or
Ewell River, rises at Ewell, flows northward past Maldon,
and runs into the Thames at Kingston.
Weybridge and Basingstoke are brought into communi¬
cation by a canal, the Basingstoke, completed in 1793,
which has a course of 37 miles, and is on an average 5 feet
in depth. The Grand Surrey Canal, from its great basin
near Adlington Square, Camberwell, to its junction with
the Thames, opposite the Shadwell Docks, is 4 miles and
6 chains in length. It was commenced in 1801. The
Wey and Arun Junction Canal connects the two rivers,
whence it derives its name, at a point near Stone Bridge,
2 miles from Guildford, and New Bridge, on the Arun, in
Sussex. Its course is about 18 miles. The act of Parlia¬
ment authorising its construction was passed in 1813.
Few parts of Surrey are now without the advantages of
railway communication. The London and Brighton line,
from London Bridge, traverses the suburban districts to
Ci'oydon, and is thence continued to Reigate, Merstham,
and Llorley, with branches to Caterham, and through
Cheam and Ewell to Epsom; while a short line of 6 miles
in length unites Croydon with Wimbledon. The London
and South-Western Railway, from Waterloo Bridge, crosses
the western division of the county to Guildford and Godai¬
ming, with branches to Kew and Twickenham, and a short
line between Guildford and Farnborough. The Crystal
Palace and West End Railway runs from a point near to
Chelsea New Bridge, through the populous districts of
Wandsworth, Balham Hill, Streatham, and Norwood, to
the Crystal Palace.
In 1801, the population of the county amounted to
269,043; in 1821, to 398,658; in 1831, to 485,700; in
1851, to 683,092 (325,051 males and 358,041 females).
At the latter period the inhabited houses numbered 103,822;
the uninhabited houses, 5770; houses building, 1540. The
principal boroughs and towns of the county, with their
populations in 1851, are—Lambeth, 251,345 ; Southwark,
172,863 ; Newington, 64,816 ; Bermondsey, 48,128 ; Cam¬
berwell, 54,667; Wandsworth, 50,764; Rotherhithe, 19,805;
Clapham, 16,290; Croydon, 10,260; Richmond, 9065;
Streatham, 6901 ; Kingston, 6279 ; Guildford, 6740 ; Put¬
ney and Roehampton, 5280; Reigate, 4927 ; Mitcham,
4641; Egham, 4482; Farnham, 3515; Dorking, 3490;
Epsom, 3390; Chertsey, 2743; Godaiming, 2218 ; Kew,
1009.
The eastern division of Surrey (population, 580,226;
electors, 8020) returns 2 members to parliament. The
western division (population, 102,856; electors, 3924) has
the same number of representatives. Southwark, with
10,606 electors, and Lambeth with 21,737 electors, return
2 members each. Guildford, with 739 electors, has 2
members ; and Reigate, with 548 electors, 1 member.
Males. Females.
Landed proprietors -  442 131
Farmers  1808 118
Farm bailiffs  263
Outdoor labourers  14,293 133
Indoor labourers  815 263
Gardeners  2546 21
Nurserymen    138
Labourers employed in agriculture.. 20,217 725
Male and female servants  2429 8593
History.
Before the Roman era, Surrey formed a portion of the dominions
of a Celtic tribe, named by Ptolemy the Pvyvoi, or Regni, and after
the Roman conquest, was merged into the province of Britannica
Prima, though, for many years, it retained its native princes, or
sub-reguli. Eventually it was swallowed up in the territory of the Surrey.
South Saxons, and reduced by Kenulf, king of Wessex, about 760,
into that progressive kingdom which Alfred finally brought into
constitutional harmony and national completeness. During the
Saxon era Kingston was a town of considerable importance, and
witnessed the coronation of Edward the Elder (a.D. 900), Athelstan
(a.d. 925), Edmund I. (a.D. 940), Edwin (a.D. 955), Edward the
Martyr (a.d. 975), and Ethelred II. (a.d. 978). At Merton, in 784,
perished Kenulf, the prince of the West Saxons, slain in a domestic
feud by Cynehard, brother of Sigibert, king of Kent.
From the period of the Norman conquest, Surrey can claim no
separate annals. It was to Merton, however, that Hubert de Burgh
retired for sanctuary, when the barons demanded his expulsion
from the councils of the king. Runnimede, the meadow where,
on the 15th day of June 1215, the sun shone upon an event ever-
memorable in English history, the signature of the Great Charter,
is within the limits of Egham, a Surrey parish. Wyat’s brief and
disastrous insurrection in 1554, involved in its calamities the town
of Kingston. Queen Elizabeth in her progresses visited Beddington,
Nonsuch, Croydon, and Loseley. At Kingston, in 1642, took place
the first military movement of the great civil war; a body of royal¬
ists unsuccessfully attempting to seize upon its magazine of arms.
And there, on the 7th of July 1648, Lord Francis Yilliers, the
brother of Charles the Second’s Duke of Buckingham (Dryden’s
Zimri), met his death in the skirmish which closed the famous
struggle.
Among the most celebrated of her sons Surrey counts George Worthies
Abbot, born at a public-house in Guildford in 1592 ; dying in 1633, of Surrey,
archbishop of Canterbury, at his palace in Croydon. A man, says
Clarendon, of very morose manners and a very sour aspect ; but,
undoubtedly, a man of considerable natural powers and unquailing
energy. His brother Robert became bishop of Salisbury, and a
second brother, Sir Maurice, Lord Mayor of London; a singular
prodigality of fortune, which almost justified Fuller’s quaint de¬
scription of the cloth-worker’s sons as “a happy ternion of brothers.”
With Stoke, near Guildford, is associated the memory of a once
popular novelist and pleasing poetess, Mrs Charlotte Smith, the
author of the Old Manor House. At Merrow is the family vault of
the Onslows, notable among whom is the Mr Speaker Onslow of
history, who, for three-and-thirty years, filled the chair of the
House of Commons with unequalled impartiality, dignity, and
courtesy. At Beddington, Admiral Sir Benjamin Hallowell, the
brother in arms of Nelson, and the eccentric donor of that hero’s
famous coffin, lived for some years, and died in 1834. Moor Park
is connected with the famous names of Sir William Temple, and
his amanuensis, “ the eccentric, uncouth, disagreeable young Irish¬
man,” afterwards more widely known as “ the great Dean Swift.”
At Waverley Abbey was born Poulett Thomson, a useful public
servant, and Governor-General of Canada at a time of peculiar
difficulty. The old house at Claremont was built by Sir John
Vanbrugh ; the present mansion was erected by Lord Clive, and in
its neighbourhood was born William Huntingdon, the zealot, who
loved to describe himself as S. S., or a “ Sinner Saved.” At the
Rookery, near Dorking, was born Malthus, the political economist.
Wotton was the birth-place of John Evelyn, and in Wotton Church
lies his dust. Sturdy William Cobbett was born at an inn near
Farnham, and died at Normandy Farm in the parish of Ash. A
more philosophical grammarian, and an equally uncompromising
politician, Horne Tooke, wrote his Eorsa lirsjosvra at Purley, and
died at Wimbledon. Thomson the poet is buried at Richmond,
where, too, for a period resided Collins, the lyrist of The Passions.
At Bowling Green House, on Putney Hill, died William Pitt,
January 23d, 1806. At Putney, Gibbon, the historian of the de¬
cline and fall of Rome was born ; and Nicholas West, who, after a
wild youth, became bishop of Ely, verifying, says Fuller, the adage,
that naughty boys sometimes make good men. Cromwell, the
minister of Henry VIII., was a native of Putney, and his father’s
forge is still shown to inquiring strangers.
Our limits will but suffer us to glance at the more interesting Antiqui-
antiquities of the county. Those which belong to the Roman ties and
period are not important. Some coins, an urn or two, and traces memorable
of their encampments have been discovered at Albury, Woodcote, places.
Walton-on-the-Hill, and Pendhill. At Cowey Stakes, near Walton,
Cmsar led his army across the river, though some antiquarians have
thought fit to place the scene of his passage at Kingston. There
are some brasses of a very early date and remains of Norman archi¬
tecture at Stoke d’Abernon; at Great Bookham, Chipstead, and
Peperharow, there are Norman doorways, arches, and columns.
Specimens of early English are noticeable in the churches of Cars¬
halton, Crowhurst, St Mary’s, Guildford, West Horsley, and Merst¬
ham ; Leatherhead, Reigate, and Shere, present some good examples
of Decorated ; while in the stately tower of Croydon, and at Bletch-
ingley, Godaiming, Leigh, and Putney, the student may study
Perpendicular. Of Merton Abbey the ruins are barely perceptible,
838
Surveying
Susa.
Honours.
Principal
seats.
SUE
S U S
and of very little interest; but Newark Priory and Waverley
Abbey will well repay the attention of the ecclesiastical antiquarian.
The historical student cannot fail to be as deeply interested as the
archeologist, in Abbot’s hospital at Guildford, Beddington Hall,
the ancient archiepiscopal palace at Croydon, Nelson s residence at
Merton Loseley, the seat of the Mores, Farnham and Guildford
Castles, and Crowhurst Place. To the man of letters, Wolsey’s
Tower at Esher, Thomson’s grave at itichmond, and his house in
Kew Lane, Cowley’s house at Chertsey, Douglas Jerrold’s cottage
at Putney, Ham House, Kew, and the poet Denham’s residence at
Egham, must always be shrines worthy of a pilgrimage.
Surrey gives the title of earl to the head of the ducal house of
Norfolk; Richmond has its dukedom, and Guildford bestows an
earldom’upon the family of North. The barony of Abinger and
the earldom of Onslow are also derived from this county.
It is almost impossible to enumerate a tithe of the seats belong¬
ing to noblemen and gentlemen, which, in Surrey, are worthy of
notice. We must not omit, however, Claremont, the residence of
the exiled royal family of France ; Beddington, until a recent date
the seat of the Carews; Albury, the late Henry Drummond, Esq.,
M.P.; Norbury Park, T. Grissell, Esq.; Nonsuch, W. F. Farmer,
Esq. ;’Gatton Park, Lord Monson; Addington and Lambeth Palaces,
the residences of the Archbishops of Canterbury ; Peperharow,
Lord Middleton; Barn Elms, J. Short, Esq.; Wimbledon, the
Duke of Somerset; Eastwick Park, David Barclay, Esq.; Clandon
Place, Earl of Onslow ; Woburn, Hon. Locke King ; Ockham Park,
Earl of Lovelace; Esher Place, J. W. Spicer, Esq.; Loseley, J.
More Molyneux, Esq.; the Deepdene, H. T. Hope, Esq.; and Der¬
bies, G. Cubitt, Esq.
Aubrey’s Perambulation of Surrey, edited by Rawlinson; Man-
ning and Bray’s Surrey; Brayley’s Surrey; Lysons’ Environs of
London; Lysons’ Magna Britannia; Camden’s Britannia ; Leland’s
Itinerary ; Fuller’s Worthies ; Salmon’s Antiquities of Surrey ; Du-
carel’s History of Croydon; Stevenson’s View of the Agriculture of
Surrey. (w- H- ^ A0
SURVEYING. See Trigonometry.
SURVIVORSHIP. See Annuities and Mortality.
SUSA (Gr. to. 2oW), called in the Bible Shushan
(Heb. an ancient city of the Persian empire, ca¬
pital of the province of Susiana, and one of the residences
of the court. There has been some difficulty in the exact
identification of the site of this celebrated city, on account
of the brief and sometimes obscure notices of ancient writers,
and our imperfect knowledge of the geography of these re¬
gions. It stood, according to the testimony both of pro¬
fane writers and of the prophet Daniel (ch. viii. 2—16),
on the river Eulseus or Ulai (>S W); but this river itself
cannot be very certainly identified. The Choaspes, which
flowed to the west of Susa, is generally believed to be the
modern Kerkhah. The Coprates is identified with the
river of Diz, and the Pasitigris with the Kuran, into which
the former falls; but about the Eulseus modern investiga¬
tors have differed considerably. Major Rawlinson supposes
it to be the upper part of the Kuran, above its confluence
with the river of Diz; and he thinks that the Hebiew
Shushan was different from Susa, and identical with the
modern Susan on the Kuran. Others hold that the Eulseus
is the small river Shapur, an affluent of the river of Diz,
and that the ruins of Shush, near the former stieam, mark
the site of Susa or Shusan. A third opinion is, that, while
Shush represents the ancient Susa, the Eulseus does not
correspond with any of the present rivers, but was a branch
of the Choaspes flowing past Susa into the Coprates. (On
this question see a number of papers in the Royal ^reo~
graphical Society’s Journal, vols. in., ix., xii., xvi., and
xxvii.) It is pretty certain that the ruins of Shush are
those of the ancient Susa; for by I'ecent excavations, theie
have been discovered there the remains of two palaces, one
of which has a magnificent colonnade, similar in size and
structure to that of Persepolis; and the columns have in¬
scriptions in three languages, stating that the building was
begun by Darius Hystaspes, who, according to Pliny, was
the founder of Susa. The name of the city is said to have
been derived from a Persian word signifying a lily, on ac¬
count of the abundance of those in the neighbourhood. It
was about 120 stadia, or about 15 miles in circumference, Susa
and was surrounded with a wall of brick. The climate of ||
Susa was very salubrious, and the Persian monarchs used ^ Sussex. ^
to make it their residence during the spring months. It v—
was also the seat of the principal treasury of the empire,
and vast sums of money were found here by Alexander,
and some treasures were still left in subsequent times, even
after they had been plundered by him. There is a monu¬
ment in the neighbourhood, said to be the tomb of Daniel,
but manifestly of modern origin.
Susa, a town of the kingdom of Sardinia, capital of a
province, in the division and 37 miles W. of Turin, in a
valley on the right bank of the Dora Ripaira. It consists
of an old and a new town, both somewhat irregularly laid
out, although the latter has some handsome streets and
squares. Here are a cathedral, town-hall, college, several
schools, hospitals, convents, &c. There are also some re¬
mains of antiquity, including a Roman triumphal arclq and
the ruins of the castle La Brunetta, on a steep height,
11,000 feet above the sea. Pop. 3500.
Susa, a fortified seaport of Northern Africa, Tunis, 40
miles S. of Hammamet, on the S.W. shore of the gulf of
that name. It is, next to Tunis, the chief trading place in
the country, contains several mosques and bazaars, manu¬
factories of woollen and linen cloth, shoes, &c., and a good
harbour, which receives the largest vessels. Pop. 10,500.
SUSPENSION-BRIDGE. See Bridges and Statics.
SUSSEX,, a maritime county of England, bounded on Bounda-
the N. by Kent and Surrey, E. by Kent, S. by the English ries> ex>
Channel, and W. by Hampshire, is of an oblong form, 76^’.^
miles wide, and 27 miles in its extreme length. Its area
is 1463 squire miles, or 936,320 statute acres. Its divisions
are six in number, and are locally called rapes or ropes,
a term which Sir Francis Palgrave thus explains:—“ The
Normans w'ere a hard people. Whenever they conquered,
and did conquer outright, they went to work like plunderers,
dividing the country by measurement—by the rope, as it
was termed ; measuring out the land amongst themselves,
a process which singularly marks the original violence of
their character, for in such allotments they neglected all the
natural relations which might previously exist amongst the
nations whom they conquered.” In each of these rapes
(Jireppai, Icelandic) the Norman lord built, at a convenient
point on the sea-coast, a castle or military station; in E.
Sussex, in the rapes of Hastings, Lewes, and Pevensey;
in W. Sussex, in the rapes of Bramber, Chichester, and
Arundel, each, as it were, commanding a “ high road to
Normandy.” These rapes are subdivided into 65 hun¬
dreds and 313 parishes, all—except the deaneries of Popham
and South Mailing, and All Saints, Chichester, which are
peculiars of the see of Canterbury—in the diocese of Chi¬
chester.
The population of Sussex, in 1801, amounted to 159,311;
in 1811, to 190,083; in 1821, to 233,019; in 1831, to
272,800; in 1851 to 336,844 (165,772 males, 171,072 fe¬
males). At that period the distribution of the inhabitants
Males.
Landed proprietors  408
Farmers and graziers  3,961
Farm bailiffs   __ 454
Outdoor labourers    25,684
Indoor labourers   1,570
Labourers employed in agriculture  37,880
Servants  2,725
The eastern division of Sussex (pop. 225,387, electors
Females.
342
239
86
704
1,877
12,726
6401,) returns two members to Parliament. The west¬
ern division (pop. 111,457, electors 2853,) has the same
number of representatives. Brighton, with 4609 elec¬
tors, returns two members; Hastings, with 1235 elec¬
tors, returns two; Chichester, with 627 electors, returns
two; Lewes, with 697 electors, returns two; Arundel,
s u s
Sussex, with 196 electors, returns one; Horsham, with 387 elec-
tors, returns one ; Midhurst, with 429 electors, returns one ;
Rye, with 426 electors, returns one; and Shoreham, with
1843 electors, returns two representatives to Parliament.
The election for East Sussex is held at Lewes; for West
Sussex at Chichester.
The principal boroughs and towns of Sussex, with their
populations in 1851, are — Brighton, 69,673; Hastings,
33,977; Shoreham, 30,553; Rye, 12,612; Lewes, 9533;
Chichester, 8662 ; Horsham, 5947; East Grinstead, 3820;
Cuckfield, 3196; Mayfield, 3055; Arundel, 2748; Bog-
nor, 1913; Newhaven, 1358; Pevensey, 412.
A range of chalk-hills, known as the North Downs, in
continuation of the chain winch traverses Surrey and Kent,
crosses to the north-eastern parts of the county from Tun¬
bridge Wells to Hythe. The South Downs, a range of
considerable elevation, 53 miles long, and 4 to 6 miles
broad, runs through the entire county, in a line nearly
parallel to that of the sea-coast, but broken into valleys by
the rivers Arun, Adur, Ouse, and Cuckmere. Some of the
heights are noticeable for their elevation. Ditchling Bea¬
con is 858 feet above the sea-level; Firle Beacon, 820
feet; and Chanctonbury Ring, with its crown of firs, about
814 feet; Crowbury Beacon, 804 feet. The northern dis¬
tricts of the county were formerly covered with an almost
impervious wood, the famous Andredsleas of the Celts ; and
there is still a general luxuriance of leafiness, which much
commends the locality to the sketcher and tourist. How
wide-spread was the forest growth, is evidenced by the
names of hamlets still in existence, such as As-hurst, Lam-
ber-hurst, Wad-hurst, Tice-hurst, and Crow-hurst. The
Weald clay in the northern part is of a very tenacious char¬
acter. It covers an area of about 425,000 acres. Between
it and the chalk-range of the Southern Downs lie long nar¬
row belts of gault and green sand, where the land is chiefly
arable and pasture. The South Downs, and the broad
stretches of luxuriant verdure which smile between them
and the sea-marge, are eminently beautiful, and offer some
of the most attractive “ bits” of scenery in this portion of
England. In the coombes and denes which break their
rounded outline nestle clumps of ancient but still vigorous
trees—ash, oak, and hazel, the white hawthorn and the
bright green box ; and on their slopes are clustered quiet
villages, sleeping in the shadow of tall elms, with perhaps
an old gabled manor-house and the gray tower of a vener¬
able church peeping out of the leafy framework. On these
Downs are constantly to be observed those circular belts of
dark-green turf called “ fairy-rings,” popularly supposed to
be the traces of fairy footsteps—of the pharisees, as the
diminutive elves are named by the Sussex shepherds. The
star-like gentian and the beautiful orchis are there abun¬
dant ; the wheatear haunts the sweet thymy grass; and
the hill-sides are everywhere dotted with the famous South
Down breed of sheep. The south-eastern district, or Forest
Ridge, is composed of Hastings sand, and is especially rich
in romantic nooks and picturesque corners. Fairlight Down,
600 feet above the sea, commands a prospect of almost une¬
qualled beauty; and the whole country around Hastings
and Eastbourne has afforded endless materials to our Hard¬
ings, Stanfields, and Copley Fieldings.
Climate. the northern districts of Sussex the climate is mild
and genial, though their clayey soils and luxuriant woods
incline it to humidity. On the coast it varies considerably.
The air of Blastings is too relaxing for delicate persons,
while that of Brighton is usually dry and bracing. At
Worthing, the climate is so mild that figs are largely culti¬
vated. Rottingdean rejoices in a fresh and strengthening
air, free, however, from excessive keenness.
Rivers and The principal rivers of Sussex are the Cuckmere, the
railroads. Ouse, the Adur, and the Arun. The Cuckmere rises in
the south-eastern Downs—in several streams, which unite
SEX. 839
near Hellingly—and flows through a pleasant valley, or de- Sussex,
pression of the hills, into the English Channel at Cuck-
mere Harbour. The Ouse is a more important river, whose
main channel has its source near Slaugham, on the southern
boundary of St Leonard’s Forest; passes Lindfield, and,
increased by numerous tributaries, skirts Sheffield Park,
running southward through a fertile country-side to Lewes ;
thence over an extensive flat, as Pennant says, which
stretches many miles inland, and is “ prettily bounded by
extensive risings,” proceeds to Newhaven, where its junc¬
tion with the sea forms a convenient harbour. The Adur,
rising in St Leonard’s forest, in its brief course, passes an¬
cient Bramber, and flows through a deep gully in the chalk-
hills—the “ Shoreham Gap”—into the sea at New Shore¬
ham. The Arun is formed by other branches, one of
which rises in Surrey ; another in the neighbourhood of St
Leonard’s and Tilgate Forests; and a third, the Rother,
rising in Hampshire, after washing the towns of Midhurst
and Petworth, unites with the main stream at Pulborough,
whence the augmented river flows, with many windings,
through Arundel, and across a level country into the Eng¬
lish Channel, below Littlehampton. The Arun is a navig¬
able river, famous for its excellent mullets. The name
is derived by Florsfield from arundo, a reed.
The railway communications are important. The Lon¬
don and South Coast line enters the county near the Three
Bridges station (where a branch diverges to East Grin-
stead, and another to Horsham), proceeds southerly to Lewes,
and thence to Newhaven. The main line runs on to
Brighton. From Lewes the railway is continued to Peven¬
sey and Hastings. There are short branches to Hurst-
monceaux and Eastbourne. From Brighton a line pro¬
ceeds to Portsmouth, in a direction nearly parallel to the
sea-coast, touching the important towns of Shoreham,
Worthing, Chichester, and Havant. The London and
South-Eastern Railway crosses the eastern portions of Sus¬
sex to Battle and Hastings, whence it is continued through
Winchelsea and Rye into the southern districts of Kent.
There is a canal between Arundel and Chichester; and a
more important one (see Surrey) connects the Arun navi¬
gation with the Wey.
There are now no manufactures in Sussex; but its iron-Manafac-
works in bygone days attained a great celebrity, employing tures and
a large number of the inhabitants of the Weald, where the Pr0(iucts-
strata embodying iron ore are principally found. These
iron-works were of great antiquity ; certainly known to the
Romans, and probably to the Britons. Disused by the
Saxons and the early Norman landowners, they rose into
repute in the days of the Plantagenets; and in the 16th
century the manufacture had assumed such considerable
proportions as to excite the indignation of the poet Drayton.
“ These iron times,” he cries, “ breed none that mind pos¬
terity.” Early in the 18th century, when coke took the
place of charcoal in the iron manufacture, the trade in
Sussex began to decline, and it has now for seventy years
been hopelessly extinct.
Sussex, therefore, is a purely agricultural county. The
Southdown breed of sheep is widely famous; they have
no horns, and their faces and legs are dark-coloured. The
wool is fine, and the flesh of excellent flavour. Sussex
cows are scarcely less celebrated. They are of a deep-red
colour, with small heads, and thin, transparent horns; are
not kept for dairy purposes, but for the sake of the meat,
always of a superior quality. In the eastern division, wheat
and other grain are neglected, and hops are largely grown.
The Sussex timber is even now in good repute; and in
many parts of the county may yet be noticed elms, oaks,
and other forest-trees, of surprising growth.
Much of the prosperity of the county is due to the at- Watering
tractiveness of its sea-coast towns, whither, in the genial places,
months of the year, repair by thousands the jaded London
840
s u s
S U T
Sussex.
History.
Worthies
citizens as well as the volatile leaders of the world of fashion.
Hastings, Eastbourne, Rottingdean, Brighton, W orthing,
and Bognor, owe their prosperity m no inconsiderable
degree to the perfection of railway communication, which
“ To those in populous city pent
Glimpses of wild and beauteous nature lent,”
and created thriving towns in neighbourhoods hitherto un¬
visited and almost desolate. As many as 100,000 persons
have been conveyed to Brighton by excursion-trains in one
We have scarcely space even for a glance at the principal histori¬
cal events associated with the “ memorable places” of Sussex. “Hal¬
lowed ground,” indeed, is trodden by the traveller at almost every
step The Itegni held the county before the coming of the Romans,
and even after the subjugation of England preserved a qualified
independence, under their native king, Cogidubnus, whom Tacitus
speaks of as always faithful to the Roman alliance. Regnum, the
modern Chichester, was the capital, and thence to Augusta (or
London) ran the great Stane Street, or Stone Street, a famous
military highway. Another important road ran along the coast,
and united Anderida (Pevensey), through Chichester, with Portus
Magnus (Porchester). iElla and his sons were the first Saxons
who landed on the Sussex coast (a.d. 477). Their place of d1®®111*
barkation is said to have been Wittering, near Chichester, which
they assaulted and captured, spreading afterwards through the vast
Andredsleas with fire and sword, and finally establishing the Soiith-
Sexe or Sussex kingdom. Mr Kemble points out the probability
of their settlements here having been very numerous, and among
the earliest in England, from the frequent occurrence in this county
of places whose names present the termination ing, which always
indicates a “ mark,” or cluster of habitations. The religion of
the Cross did not creep into Sussex, however, until long after
Augustine had preached it to the men of Kent. It was introduced
by Wilfrid, archbishop of York, who, about a.d. 680, was cast by
a storm upon the coast—now bare and level, but then all richly
wooded'—of the peninsula of Selsey. A miracle attended its advent.
Bede tells us that for three years no rain had fallen in “ the Island
of the Sea-Calf,” and the drought had produced so great a famine,
that very often bands of forty or fifty men would rush to the brink
of a neighbouring precipice, and hand-in-hand cast themselves into
destruction: but on the very day which witnessed the baptism of
the proselytes there fell a soft and plenteous rain, restoring verdure
to the earth, and hope to the heart of man.
The sea-board of Sussex suffered terribly from the ravages of the
Danish jarls; but it does not appear that they effected any perma¬
nent settlements. The county afterwards formed a portion of the
demesnes of the great Earl Godwin, and his greater ®on King
Harold. Within its limits—on a down covered with heath and
furze, and surrounded by dangerous morasses—was fought (Get.
14 1066) the memorable battle which overthrew the Saxon dy¬
nasty, and eventually resulted in that union of Saxon solidity and
Norman enterprise now recognised as distinctive of the Enghs
ctia.ra.ct6r
Lewes,' on the 13th of May 1264, was the scene of a contest
scarcely less important in its results—the sanguinary battle of
Lewes, between De Montfort earl of Leicester, and the barons
army, and the royal forces under Henry HI. and I rince Edward.
The slaughter was terrible, but De Montfort was victorious, an
thus the final seal to Magna Charta was affixed in blood. _
The French fleet, under D’Annebaut, made an attack on Brighton
in 1545, and landed a body of troops, who were stoutly resisted
by the natives, and compelled to retire. It was at Brighton
Charles II. spent the night before his escape from the English
shore (Oct. 15, 1651), in a small vessel fitted out by Capt. Nicholas
Tattersall. In 1643, the Parliamentarian forces, under Sir William
Waller, besieged Chichester for ten days, and, after its surrender,
set to work lustily to purify it from “ idolatrous images, and re¬
move all “ superstitious” decorations. The same leader, later in the
year, beleaguered Arundel Castle for seventeen days, an re
it to a heap of ruins. Off Beachy Head, on the 30th of June 1690,
Lord Torrington’s Anglo-Dutch fleet of 56 sail was attacce J a
French force of 78 ships of war and 22 fire-ships, under Count de
Tourville. The combat had no decisive results. And here we
must pause, referring the reader for fuller historical details to t e
authorities indicated at the conclusion of this article.
At Field Place^ near Horsham, on the 4th of August 1792, was
born Percy Bysshe Shelley, and here that most psychological of
poets wrote the greater part of Queen Mab. Chichester (Dec. 2o,
1719) was the birth-place of William Collins, our great English
lyrist; and in a house near Chichester Cathedral he died, in 1759.
In the church of Horsted Keynes, sleeps the dust of one of the
“ wisest and virtuousest” of English prelates. Archbishop Leighton,
who resided for ten years at Broadhurst, in its vicinity. Eartham
is connected with the names of the poet Halley^ to whom it de¬
scended from his father—and Huskisson, the statesman, who pur¬
chased it of him. John Fletcher, the greater of the dramatic fra¬
ternity of Beaumont and Fletcher, was born at Rye in 1579.
Archdeacon Hare is interred in Hurstmonceaux churchyard. At
Sheffield Place, Gibbon the historian spent his closing years, and in
the adjacent church (Fletching) lie his remains. In a cottage
named Lacies, near Salvington, was born the erudite Selden (a.d.
1584), and at the Chichester Free School he received his rudi¬
mentary education. Lewes is justly proud of Dr Mantell, the
eminent geologist. Gilbert White, the naturalist, has associated
his memory with the village of Ringmer and the Sussex downs..
Sussex is rich in antiquities: we can but indicate the more im¬
portant. Celtic earthworks may be traced at Cisbury, or Cissa’s
Byrig, near Vindon; the Devil’s Dyke, near Poynings ; and Mount
Caburn, near Lewes. Barrows, or tumuli, are scattered over the
entire range of the South Downs. Roman relics are numerous,
and of peculiar interest, especially the ancient walls of Anderida
(Pevensey), and the fine villa at Bignor. To the historical student,
there is a mine of wrealth in Lewes Castle ; in the stately towers of
Pevensey; the picturesque keep of Arundel; and the ruins of
Battle Abbey. There is a wide field, too, for ecclesiological specu¬
lation at Bayham Abbey, St Pancras Priory (Lewes), Michelham,
and Wilmington. The most interesting churches are those of
Shoreham, Steyning, Broadwater, Climping, Bosham, Winchelsea,
and Etchingham. Chichester Cathedral must always he an attrac¬
tive object to the archaeologist as well as to “ the man of taste.
The lovers of English fiction will remember that Brambletye House
suggested to Horace Smith his best romance, and that Ainsworth
has transferred the features of Cuckfield Place to the “ haunted
house” in llookwood. There is an interesting Elizabethan mansion
at Parham, and a manor-house of an earlier date at Crowhurst.
Brickwall House is curious in itself, and rejoices in some curious
relics of Elizabethan days. Winchelsea and Rye are not without
noteworthy traces of their past importance.
The titles derived from this county are those of the Earls of
Winchelsea, Ashburnham, Chichester, and Sheffield, and the Barons
Arundel and Selsey. , .
We can but name a few of the principal mansions and seats in
Sussex:—Goodwood, the Duke of Richmond; Arundel Castle,
Duke of Norfolk; Petworth, Colonel Wyndham (rich m art-trea¬
sures of the highest order); Sheffield Place, Earl of Sheffield,
Bridge Park, Earl of Abergavenny ; Maresfield Park, J. V. Shelley,
Esq •’Buxted Park, Colonel Vernon Harcourt; Ashburnham Place,
Earl of Ashburnham ; Heathfield Park, G. E. Towery, Esq.; Buck-
hurst Park, Lord Delawarr; Stanmer Park, Earl of Chichester ;
Knepp Castle, Sir C. M. Burrell; Parham, Hon. R. Curzon; and
Westdean House, Lord Selsey.
Horsfield’s History of Sussex; Horsfield s History of Lewes ;
Lower’s Contributions to Literature; Lower’s Handbook to Lewes;
Pennant’s Tour from London to the Isle of Wight; Collections of the
Sussex Archaeological Association; Fuller’s Worthies ; Kem 1) e s
Saxons in England; Hussey’s Churches of Kent, Surrey and Sussex;
Lyell’s Principles of Geology; Dr Mantell, in Bray ley s History of
Surrey. (w.H.D.A.)
SUTHERLAND, an extensive county in the north of
Scotland, situated between 57. 53. and 58. 36. N. Eat., and
between 3. 39. and 5. 15. W, Long.; having the sea on the
S.E.,W., and N., Caithness on the N.E., and Ross-shire on
the S.; is separated from the latter for about 30 miles by the
Dornoch Frith, and has communication with the south by
Meikle Ferry and Bonar Bridge. The county forms an
irregular square, extending from 45 to 50 miles kot l
and contains an area of 1754 square miles, oil,
imperial acres, divided into thirteen parishes, with a poi turn
of the parish of Reay, forming part of the synod of Suther¬
land and Caithness. The other recognized divisions of the
county are — Sutherland, being the south-eastern pait,
Assynt; the Reay country; and Strathnaver ; and these
names still serve to designate the different localities.
The coast of Sutherland, in the N. and W. is rocky an
precipitous, in the S.E. flat or sloping, except on the con¬
fines of Caithness, where the Ord projects into the sea wit i
perpendicular abruptness; and presents a succession of inlets
of the sea, and bold promontories, with several islets, ihe
principal lochs or friths are—Lochs Assynt, Laxford, and
Inchard, on the W.; Durness Bay, Loch Eriboll, the Ky e
of Tongue, and the Bays of lorrisdale and Strathy, in
Suther¬
land.
Antiqui¬
ties and
objects of
intjrest.
Honours.
Chief seats.
Situation
and boun¬
daries.
Surface.
S U T H E
Suther- the N.; and Loch Fleet, branching out from the Dornoch
( IaD(h ^ Frith, on the S.E. Of the promontories, the more remark-
able are—Rue Stoer, on the S. side of Loch Assynt; Cape
Wrath in the N. W. extremity of the county; Far-out-Head,
and Whiten Head on the N.E. coast. The interior con¬
sists of mountains, rising in Ben More, Assynt, to a height
of 3230 feet, elevated plateaus covered with heath, vast fields
of peat-bog, some pleasant straths watered by streams in
which salmon and trout are found, and numerous lakes
embosomed either in bleak, dismal regions of moorland, or
begirt by a series of lumpy hills of conglomerate, whose naked
and rugged sides have no covering even of heath. Wildness
and sterility are the great features of the landscape, the dreary
monotony being seldom relieved by tree or shrub ; and this
uniformity of desolation is only occasionally broken by some
glen or strath presenting itself, as an oasis of verdure in the
bleak desert. Of a different character, however, is the
S.E. coast; for here the shore is flat or sloping for a dis¬
tance varying from f ths of a mile to 2 miles, and a fringe
or border of average fertility, well laid off into farms, highly
cultivated, varied with plantations of considerable extent,
and studded with handsome farm-houses, commodious stead¬
ings, and comfortable and tidy cottages. At about equal
intervals are five fairly built and thriving villages, orna¬
mented with proprietors’ seats and a few handsome villas,
sheltered from the north by a continous line of hills, or
opening into the pleasant and fertile valleys of Strath-
fleet, Strath-Brora, and the Strath of Kildonan. This dis¬
trict has a fine southern exposure, and both in its appearance
and productions can bear comparison with cultivated districts
in the Lowlands.
Rivers. The principal streams are Oikel, with its confluent the
Shin, Fleet, Brora, and Helmsdale, all falling into the
Dornoch Frith or German Ocean. The Oikel, of which
the Dornoch Frith is an expansion, is by the tide navigable
for ships of 50 tons as far as Bonar Bridge, a distance of 12
miles, and for boats about 8 miles further. On the N.
coast the rivers are Dinart, the Naver, and the Halladale.
All take their rise in the heights in the centre of the county,
whence they disperse to different seas. Salmon is to be
found in all the above-named rivers. Loch Shin, about 20
miles long and 1 mile broad, is the most considerable of
the lakes; but, with the exception that its south-eastern
extremity is lined by pretty little fields and neat cottages
with a few trees at Lairg, it has not much of the pictu¬
resque in its appearance. Through this lake flows the river
of the same name. It is said that there are about 200
lakes, many of them small, in the county, and that they
occupy about 53 square miles, or nearly 34,000 acres. On
the N. coast, the sea has formed some remarkable caves
in the limestone rock; the most remarkable are that of
Smoo, in Durness, 32 yards wide and 20 yards high; and
that at Fraisgill, 50 feet high and 20 feet wide at the
entrance, but gradually narrowing to its termination, at a
distance of more than half a mile.
Miaerals. ^he oldest formation of rocks in Sutherland is gneiss,
which extends over the whole county, and affords a
great variety of aspect in the stratification. This forma¬
tion is traversed by granite veins, which abound in various
places in the south-east part of the county, as also in the
upper parts of the parishes of Reay and Edderachylis. The
gneiss is also traversed by veins of greenstone and por¬
phyry. Those of the greenstone are found in great abun¬
dance in the south-east district of Assynt, and in the
country around Scourie in Edderachylis. Porphyry veins
are of rare occurrence. Mica-slate is developed to a con¬
siderable extent in two parts of the country: in that por¬
tion of the district of Moin which stretches southwards, and
constitutes the whole of the mountains of Ben Hope, Ben
Hee, and Meal Rynies ; and that part of the county be¬
tween Loch Fleet and Bonar Bridge. Granite fields pre-
VOL. XX.
ELAN D. 841
vail in the lower part of the parish of Reay, and in the Suther-
parishes of Loth and Rogart. Syenite is to be met with in land-
several places. It is most abundant in the mountain of
Ben Laoghal, and that considerable tract of country which
intervenes between the head of Loch Fleet and Lairg, at
the head of Loch Shin. The quartz series of rocks occurs
principally, in greater or lesser fields, in the western part of
the county, from Loch Eriboll on the north to Loch Vattie
on the south. This series is connected with sandstone and
limestone. The latter is divided into four great fields con¬
nected with one another, and running in the same direction
as the quartz. There is also a portion of nearly 6 miles in
length at Durness, between Loch Eriboll and Cape Wrath.
Redstone and conglomerate are extensively displayed on
the east side, and at several points on the north coast, and
in the interior. The oolite series of rocks, consisting of
white sandstone, sandstone-flag, slate-clay, limestone, and
coal, forms the coast between Golspie and the Ord of
Caithness, and has a breadth at the River Brora of 3 miles.
At Brora, coal occurs at several points, but although the
seam is 3 feet 2 inches thick, the coal is so inferior in qua¬
lity that it has been found to be not worth the working.
Calcareous sinter and bog-iron ore are the only chemical
alluvial deposits to be found in the county.
This county, which is valued in the cess-books at Valuation
L.26,193, 9s. 7d. Scots, is almost entirely the property ofand rental,
the Duke of Sutherland. In 1812 the gross rental of
lands and houses, as returned under the Property-tax Act,
was L.28,458, 8s. 4d., including about L.1700 as the rent
of the salmon and other fisheries. In 1859 the rental of
the same subjects, including shootings let, amounted to
L.52,376, that of land alone being upwards of L.46,000.
The mansions of proprietors in the county are Dun- Mansions,
robin Castle, a palatial structure in the Old English baro¬
nial style, greatly enlarged and improved in the years
1845-51, at an expense of upwards of L.100,000; House
of Tongue, Lochinvar House, Embo, and Skelbo Cottage,—
all belonging to the Duke of Sutherland ; Skibo Castle
(Dempster’s); Ospisdale (Gilchrist’s); and Rosehall (Sir
J. Matheson’s). There are not more than two other pro¬
prietors in the county, and these have their mansions in
Ross-shire. The farm-houses are, however, of a superior
character, and several of them would form suitable man¬
sions for moderate estates.
Fifty years ago there were almost no roads,-except bridle Means of
tracks, in the county; but for the last thirty years it has communi-
possessed a complete system of excellent roads intersecting cation,
the county in every direction, while no such thing as a
toll-bar is to be seen upon them. There are also good inns,
well kept, in every quarter in which the accommodation of
travellers requires them. The roads are partly parliamen¬
tary ; but by far the greatest extent of the several hundreds
of miles of road connecting the different parts of the country
was made and is maintained from the county rate. These
roads, and other changes effected in the first quarter of the
present century, have put this remote county on a level, in
point of civilization, with districts more favourably situated
for receiving an impulse from the great centres of intelli¬
gence and improvement.
Previous to the year 1808, Sutherland was in a state of Changes
nature ; and owing to the want of means of communication, and im-
the inhabitants continued in a state of primitive rudeness Pr°ve-
and ignorance. They were almost all engaged in tillao-e ;raents*
but as their implements were of the rudest description, and
as their skill and industry were unequal to the task of over¬
coming the unproductiveness of the soil and the rio-ours of
climate, they only earned a miserable subsistence : their
crops often blighted by mildew, they sometimes had re¬
course for sustenance to the expedient of bleeding their
living cattle, and were frequently saved from absolute star¬
vation by supplies of meal furnished by the landlord. The
5 o
842
Suther¬
land.
Agricul¬
ture.
S U T H E
mountain region, the glens, and corries in which the inha¬
bitants were located, presented insuperable obstacles to suc¬
cessful or profitable tillage; and as the very existence of
a population so situated must always be precarious, the first
Duke of Sutherland, a nobleman of enlightened views,
resolute purpose, upright character, and withal possessing
great wealth, had the foresight and the courage to effect in
Sutherland a change which, whatever its hardships at first,
has been attended with beneficial results. He removed
the Sutherland man from his possessions in the heights of
the county, and offered him an allotment on the coast-side
at a nominal rent; or, if such was his choice, he was fur¬
nished With the means of emigrating to Canada. That any
views of immediate gain influenced the proprietor in remov¬
ing- the tenants can hardly be maintained, when it is borne
in^mind, that although the Sutherland family have spent
on this county many thousands drawn from their English
estates, they have never, up to this date (1860), derived
one penny of clear revenue from their extensive Highland
property, forming nineteen-twentieths of the sixth largest
county in Scotland. All has been spent in real or attempted
improvements.
For the last forty years tillage has been carried on in
this county on the same plan, with the same appliances,
and, taking soil and climate into account, with the same
success as in the southern counties of Scotland. At Balna-
kiel, Keoldale, Eriboll, and Tongue, on the north coast,
there are considerable corn farms; while on the south-east
coast, in the parishes of Creich, Dornoch, Golspie, Clyne,
and Loth, there are about thirty arable farms, paying each
from L.150 to L.750 of annual rent, besides a small pro¬
portion of farms of from L.20 to L.100 rental; and, in ad¬
dition to these, hundreds of lots of land, consisting of from
one to -ten acres. These lots are numerous in the inland
parishes of Rogart and Lairg, and also along the west and
north coast. As a body, the Sutherland farmers may, in
intelligence, professional skill, and capital, stand a compa¬
rison with the agriculturists of any part of Scotland. 1 lie
management of their farms, the adoption of every improve¬
ment in modes of tillage and implements of husbandry, the
erection of handsome farm-houses with convenient steadings
by the proprietor, and the raising of excellent crops of wheat,
barley, oats, turnips, and hay—-the grain sent south often
fetching the highest price in the Edinburgh markets—fur¬
nish sufficient proof that the changes in the occupancy
already referred to have been decided improvements so far
as relates to corn farms. The regions in the interior, from
which the aborigines were removed, are occupied with
sheep farms, and the grazing of sheep or cattle appears to
be the only purpose to which such districts of countiy can
be applied. The sheep farms in the county are in number
about thirty-five, carrying each from 1500 to 8000 sheep.
The Cheviot is almost the only sheep on these farms, and
it has not degenerated in the country of its adoption.
From 2s. 6d. to 3s. 6d. per sheep is the general rental. A
few years ago these farms were larger than they are now,
but as leases fall in, their size is reduced and the number
increased, portions of every large sheep farm being allotted
to the corn farmers. The Dunrobin breed of cattle, ori¬
ginally from Argyleshire, was long celebrated; but on the
larger farms these are giving way to other breeds, such as
the short-horn and polled cattle, which come sooner to
maturity. On the small holdings occupied by the cottars,
now generally the descendants of those formerly dispos¬
sessed in making room for sheep farmers, there are sub¬
stantial, comfortable cottages ; and partly from the produce
of their lands, which pay a very low or even nominal rent,
and partly from earnings drawn from labour elsewhere, the
occupants appear to live in more comfort than their fore¬
fathers did before the days of removals. But it can scarcely
be maintained that their condition is as much in advance
ELAND.
of that of the peasantry of the beginning of the century, as Suther-
the condition of the farmer of 1860 is superior to that of land,
the tacksman of 1800. Further, it may be stated, that to
enable the people to live on these allotments, the landlord
must forego one-half of the rent which the land would fetch.
There are numerous fir plantations near the coast, which,
however, take a long time to arrive at maturity. The sharp
air of the German Ocean is unfavourable to the growth of
timber, and close to the sea trees have a blasted and
stunted appearance. Oaks, elms, and ash, in sheltered lo¬
calities, attain considerable size. In the interior, any tree
that is to be seen is dwarf birch. Horticultural produc¬
tions are similar to those in more southern counties; and
even at Tongue, on the north coast, there is a well-stored
and productive garden.
A cotton-mill had been for some time in operation atManufac-
Spinningdale, but having been burnt down in 1806, the tares,
undertaking was abandoned. The only manufactory in the
county is a woollen-mill on a small scale at Pittentrail in
Rogart. Only one distillery, but no brewery, exists in the
county.
A few boats are engaged in the white fishing on the Fisheries,
west and north coast. Lobsters and oysters are also
found in considerable quantities. At Embo, Golspie, Port-
Gower, Brora, and Helmsdale, about 30 boats altogether
are employed in fishing all the year round; the two
latter are herring - curing stations, and 200 boats are
employed at Helmsdale, and 30 at Brora, during the herring
season.
The exports are sheep, wool, cattle, ponies, grain, whisky, Commerce,
salmon, cod, haddock, and herring; meal and flour, how¬
ever, are' both imported, besides groceries, manufactured
goods, and coals. The only way of accounting for the im¬
port of meal and the export of oats seems to be, that the
farmers, who are all possessed of considerable capital, can
keep up their grain in order to take advantage of high prices,
and also that Caithness meal is generally preferred by the
consumers.
Dornoch, the county town, is the only royal burgh in Towns and
Sutherland, and has been stationary at a population ofvlllages-
about 500 for the last sixty years. Though small, it is now
prettywell built, and contains an excellent jail (often empty),
court-room, and other public buildings, all erected within
the last twenty years. The parish church is a cathedral on
a small scale, which was renovated and restored in 1836.
Golspie, with 900 inhabitants, is beautifully situated in the
vicinity of Dunrobin Castle, has two banks, half-a-dozen
good shops, and is ornamented by a handsome fountain,
being a monument to the Duchess-Countess of Sutherland ;
while on Ben-Bhraggie, overlooking the village, 1000 feet
above the sea, stands a monument 70 feet high, surmounted
by a colossal statue, 30 feet in height, of the late duke;
both it and the fountain having been erected by the ten¬
antry in acknowledgment of their appreciation of the char¬
acter of these noble persons. The other villages are
Bonar, Brora, and Helmsdale, the last the largest place in
the county. In Sutherland, as in the rest of the Highlands,
the military spirit, that formerly sent forth a regiment from
every county, appears to be extinct : the cause is to be
found in the dissolution of feudal ties, and in the commer¬
cial character of the age, which draws off the surplus young
men in quest of money and the comforts of life—things not
to be found in camps or campaigns.
Before 1843, Sutherland contained no dissenting place Churches
of worship, and scarcely a single dissenter; but though and schools,
at the disruption, the Duke of Sutherland was a firm
supporter of the Established Church, at least nine-tenths
of the people, headed by their more popular pastors,
joined the Free Church, and continue steady adherents
to that denomination. In 1851, there were 10 Estab¬
lished churches, with 3696 sittings; and 19 Free
S U T
SWA
843
Antiqui¬
ties.
Represen¬
tation.
churches, having 7920 sittings. On 31st March 1851, the
attendance at the Established churches was—forenoon, 255 ;
afternoon, 200: at the Free churches—forenoon, 6723;
afternoon, 4504. By the census returns of 1851, it appeared
that a greater proportion of the population of this county
than of any other in Great Britain attends school. This
is owing to two circumstances—that there is little or no
employment for youths under sixteen years of age, and that
every inhabited district of the county has an excessive
number of schools. In addition to the parish school, there
are in every parish one or two General Assembly schools,
as many Free Church schools, and in some a society school.
In Dornoch parish, a radius of two miles would sweep over
the parish school, three General Assembly schools, four
Free Church schools, and a society school. In other
parishes, an Assembly school has been planted within a
mile of efficiently-taught but half-filled parish schools;
while a Free Church school is always at hand to supple¬
ment deficiencies in both. Although there is no printing-
press in the county, Sutherland matters are sufficiently
discussed by neighbouring journalists. Gaelic is losing
ground daily, and many young people on the coast cannot
speak it.
In various districts along the coast there are some re¬
mains of antiquity. The most interesting are two circular
buildings, called Dun-Dornadil, or Dornadilla’s Tower, and
Castle Coll, both reared of large stones, nicely fitted, but
without cement, and of which considerable portions are
still entire, after the lapse of probably 1000 years. Castle
Call, which is situated on the east side of the county, on a
stream that falls into the Brora, has an exterior circumfer¬
ence of 54 yards, with walls 4£ yards thick at the base, in¬
clining inwards 9 inches in every 3 feet in height; and
two small apartments on each side of the doorway, as if
intended for guard-rooms^ The highest part of the wall
is now only 11 feet high, but old people remember it twice
that height. Dun-Dornadil is in the parish of Darness, on
the northern side of the county. It is a building of the
same character with Castle Coll, but still more dilapidated,
and is celebrated in the ancient Gaelic ballads as a place
of renown at a very early period. At Backies, near Gol¬
spie, are the remains of a Pictish tower, with covered pas¬
sages and chambers, all formed of stone without any ce¬
ment, and apparently intended to be fire-proof. Others of
a similar character, tumuli, and some small forts, may still
be traced in various situations along the coast.
The county sends one member to Parliament; and the
town of Dornoch joins with Cromarty, Dingwall, Tain,
Wick, and Kirkwall, in election of a burgh member.
The population, according to the census of 1801, was
23 117; in 1811, it amounted to 23,629; in 1821, to
23,840; in 1831, to 25,518; in 1841, to 24,782; in 1851,
to 25,793 ; and in 1860 it is estimated at 26,500.
SUTLEJ, or Sutloj, the most easterly of the five rivers
of the Punjab, in India, rises in the lakes of Manasarovara
and Rawan Hrad, among the Himalayas, about N. Lat.
30. 8., E. Long. 81. 53. It flows north-west for 188 miles,
through a country wild and sublime in the highest degree,
as far~as Khab, where it receives from the north-west the
river of Spiti. The confluence of these rivers is one of the
most grand and awful scenes in the world; the muddy
stream of the Sutlej, dashing tumultuously over its rocky
bed, and mingling in a deep gull with the deep, calm, and
blue stream of the other. The rivers are, at the confluence,
8600 feet above the sea; and from this point the united
stream flows south-west with a very rapid current and steep
declivity. At Rampoor, which is a comparatively short
distance off, the bed is only 3360 feet high, and the breadth
of the stream is 211 feet. Near Bilaspoor it takes a sweep
to the north-west, but soon returns to its former course.
It joins the Beas a little above Hurekee ; and the united
river bears the name of Ghara until its junction with the Sutton
Chenaub, when it takes that of Punjnud, which it bears till Coldfield
it joins the Indus. The Sutlej is believed to be the Zara- 11
drus or Hesudrus of the ancients, and the Hypanis of Swafl
Strabo. v
SUTTON COLDFIELD, a market-town of England,
Warwickshire, on the slope of a hill, 7 miles N.N.E. of
Birmingham. It is for the most part regularly laid out and
well built; and it contains a handsome parish church, partly
built by Bishop Vesey, in the sixteenth century, and con¬
taining some ancient monuments ; a Roman Catholic chapel,
a grammar-school, and several others ; a public library, and
a neat brick town-hall. South-west of the town lies the
Coldfield, a bleak tract of 13,000 acres, stretching into
Staffordshire ; and to the north-west and west is Sutton
park, a pasture-ground of about 3500 acres, given to the
poor of Sutton by Bishop Vesey. There are no manufac¬
tories in the town ; but many of the people are employed
in the making of hardware in. the vicinity, and within the
limits of the parish there is a celebrated factory of music-
wire. Pop. 4574.
SVEABORG, or Sweaborg, a fortified town of the
Russian empire, Finland, on seven small islands in the Gulf
of Finland, immediately S.E. of Helsingfors, the harbour of
which it protects. It has docks and dockyards, and is
a station of the Russian fleet, and the chief fortified place
in Finland. Pop. 3500. For an account of the bom¬
bardment of Sveaborg by the British, June 9, 1855, see
Russia.
SWABIA (Germ. Schwaberi), an ancient division of
Germany, deriving its name from the Suevi. It is the
same country that was originally called Allemannia, and
occupied the right bank of the Rhine, where that river
forms an acute angle at Basle ; bounded on the N. by the
Palatinate of the Rhine and Franconia, E. by Bavaria, S.
by Switzerland, and W. by Alsace; including the moun¬
tains of the Black Forest, and the sources and upper courses
of the Neckar and Danube. It thus corresponded with
the modern Wiirtemberg, the southern part of Baden, and
the province of Swabia and Neuburg, in Bavaria. It re¬
ceived the name of Swabia when the Allemanni were con¬
quered by Chlodwig in 496, and brought into subjection to
the Franks; and it was at first governed by dukes ap¬
pointed by the Frankish kings. In 1080, Henry IV. made
the dukedom hereditary in the family of Frederick of
Hohenstaufen. The country was at this time in a very
flourishing condition, and the reigning house soon became
one of the most powerful in Germany; in the great civil
war it stood at the head of the Ghibelline party, and in¬
cluded among its members several emperors,—-Conrad III.,
Frederick L, Barbarossa, Henry VI., Frederick II., and
Conrad IV. With the unfortunate Conradin, the son ot
the last of these monarchs, who was executed in 1268, the
line of Hohenstaufen became extinct; and upon this the
various princes, prelates, and cities of Swabia, that had
been formerly vassals of the dukes, made themselves inde¬
pendent. Since then Swabia has not formed a separate
state, but it was one of the ten circles of the German
empire till 1806.
SWAFFH AM, a market-town of England, in the county
of Norfolk, on the top of a hill, 27 miles W. by N. of Nor¬
wich, and 93 N.N.E. of London. It is generally well built,
and has- in the centre a large market-place, containing a
handsome cross. The chief buildings are the parish church,
a large cruciform structure of the fifteenth century, with a
pinnacled tower, and some ancient monuments ; a town-
hall, jail, theatre, and assembly-rooms. There are also
places of worship for Wesleyan Methodists, Baptists, and
others ; several schools, and a savings bank. Markets and
fairs are held here, and there is some trade in butter. Pop.
3858.
844
SWA
SWA
Swammer¬
dam
II
Swansea.
SWAMMERDAM, John, a celebrated natural philoso¬
pher, was the son ot John James Swammerdam, an apo¬
thecary and naturalist of Amsterdam, and was born in
1637. His father intended him for the church, and with
this view had him instructed in Latin and Greek; but
thinking himself unequal to so serious a vocation, he pie-
vailed with his father to consent to his applying himself to
physic. When grown up, he seriously attended to his
anatomical and medical studies ; yet spent part of the day
and the night in discovering, catching, and examining the
flying insects not only in the province of Holland, but
in those of Guelderland and Utrecht. Thus initiated
in natural history, he went to the university of Leyden
in 1651; and in 1653 was admitted a candidate of physic
in that university. His attention being now engaged
by anatomy, he began to consider how the parts of the
body, prepared by dissection, could be preserved, and
kept inconstant order for anatomical demonstration ; [and
here he succeeded as he had done before in his con¬
trivances for dissecting and preserving the minutest insects.
He afterwards made a journey into France, where he spent
some time at Saumur, and where he became acquainted
with several learned men. In 1667 he returned to Leyden,
and took the degree of MJ). The Grand Duke of Tuscany
offered him 12,000 florins for his collection, on condition of
his removing them himself into Tuscany, and coming to
live at the court of Florence; but Swammerdam, who
hated a court life, declined his highness’s proposal. In
1663 he had published a General History of Insects. Re¬
specting this work, his biographer, Boerhaave, subsequently
wrote that “ all the ages from the commencement of natural
history have produced nothing to equal, nothing to compare
with it.” About this time his father began to take offence
at his inconsiderately neglecting the practice of physic,
which might have supported him in affluence, and would
neither supply him with money nor clothes. This reduced
him to some difficulties. In 1675 he published his History
of the Ephemeras ; and his father dying the same year, left
him a fortune sufficient for his support; but he did not
long survive him, for he died in 1682. Gaubius gave a
translation of all his works from the original Dutch into
Latin, from which they were translated into English, and
published in folio, in 1758.
SWANAGE, or Swanwick, a market-town of England,
Dorsetshire, on a bay of the same name, N.E. of St Alban’s
Head, 22 miles E.S.E. of Dorchester. It consists of one
main street, and has an old church, with a tower 80 feet
high, Independent and Methodist chapels, a library, and
baths. Many of the people are employed in the neigh¬
bouring quarries of Purbeck stone ; others in plaiting straw
and making buttons. Swanage is visited for the sake of
sea-bathing ; the climate is mild, and the bay is very beau¬
tiful. Pop. 2139.
SWANEVELT, Hermann Van, usually called “the
Hermit of Italy,” was a Dutch painter of distinction, and was
born at Woerden about 1620. He is said to have been
originally the pupil of Gerard Dow, and subsequently of
Claude Lorraine, but there is no evidence of this beyond
the most slender tradition. This artist went early to Italy,
and spent his life in painting the delightful landscapes ot
that country. He was distinguished by the warmth and
tenderness of his tints, and by the fine gradation of his
aerial perspective. Many of his landscapes are exquisitely
embellished with ruins, cattle, and figures, admirably
grouped. His pictures are now exceedingly scarce. His
death is said to have occurred in 1680, but many writers
place it ten years later.
SWANSEA, a seaport on the south coast of Wales, is
one of the chief towns of Glamorganshire, and ranks as
the metropolis of the Principality. It is situated between
high hills, at the entrance of a valley through which runs
the River Tawy (whence the Welsh name of the town, Swansea.
“ Abertawe,” is derived), and at the head of a fine bay.
Formerly Swansea was much frequented as a watering
place, but its rapidly growing commercial and manufactur¬
ing interests have given a new character to the population,
and even changed the face of the country. The natural
features of the neighbourhood are attractive, but the smoke
from the copper-works destroys vegetation, poisons cattle,
and makes the hill-sides look barren and desolate. The
smoke, however, does not find its way outside the town to
the westward, and the town is fast increasing in that direc¬
tion. Its proximity to the Welsh coal-field, combined with
the facilities it affords as a seaport, have led Swansea to
become the great seat of the copper-ore trade. Nine-
tenths of the whole quantity of copper ore smelted in the
United Kingdom is smelted at Swansea; the foreign ore
being brought here from Cuba, South America, Australia,
and elsewhere. The first copper-works were established in
Swansea in 1719, and the first cargo of foreign copper ore
was imported into the town in 1827. There are also silver,
tin, and iron-works here, which are supplied with ore from
abroad. The value of the silver and copper ore imported
into Swansea is very large: a single cargo is often worth
from L.60,000 to L.70,000, and a single smelting firm
has imported ore to the value of a quarter of a million in
three months. The principal exports are coal and patent
fuel, the latter of which is largely manufactured in the
town.
The progress of Swansea as a port is of recent date. In
1768 the total number of vessels visiting the place was
694, with a total amount of tonnage of 30,631. In 1800,
nine years after the passing of an act for the improvement
of the harbour, there were 2590 vessels, with a tonnage ot
154,264. In 1850, two years before the opening of the
first floating dock, the number of vessels was 3616; ton¬
nage, 262,207. In 1859 the number of vessels was 4772;
tonnage, 508,814. In the last-named year extensive new
docks were opened, and supplied, together with the old
docks, with elaborate hydraulic machinery by which the
gates are moved, the bridges swung, and vessels are loaded
and discharged. A branch line of railway to the new
docks was opened at the same time.
Swansea became a corporate town upon the passing of
the Municipal Reform Act, in 1835, and is now divided
into two wards, and governed by a mayor, six aldermen,
and eighteen common councillors. The town council also
forms a Local Board of Health, under the Health of Towns
Act. Swansea, in conjunction with the neighbouring
towns of Neath, Loughor, Aberavon, and Kenfig, returns
one member to Parliament.
The remains of Swansea Castle stand on an eminence
near the centre of the town. This castle was built by
Henry Beaumont, Earl of Warwick, in 1100. The Earl
obtained a grant of the lands of Gower (a peninsula run¬
ning out into the Bristol Channel to the west of Swansea),
from William Rufus, and having dispossessed the Welsh
prince Caradoc of those lands, built Swansea Castle and
several other castles for the defence of his domain. Within
the last century the castle has comprised at the same time
a union, market-house, blacksmith’s shop, Catholic chapel,
and gaol. It was used as a debtors’ prison by the Duke
of Beaufort, the lord of the seigniory of Gower, up to
1859 ; when, through the intervention of Government, this
and the only other two or three prisons of the same kind in
the kingdom were abolished. A fine post-office, having
the appearance of a church at a distance, was built adja¬
cent to the old castle, and opened in 1857. There are three
churches in the town—St Mary’s (the parish church).
Trinity, and St John’s (a Welsh church); and numerous
chapels used by the Welsh and English Dissenters of various
denominations. The Wesleyan chapel is a handsome
SWA
Swartz structure in the Italian style, and forms one of the chiet
II ornaments of the town. Among the other public buildings
Sweden.^ worthy 0f n0(.e are town-hall, the Royal Institution of
South Wales (a literary and scientific institution contain¬
ing a valuable library and museum), the endowed grammar-
school, the harbour offices, and the Glamorganshire Bank.
Two county newspapers are published at Swansea—the
Swansea and Glamorgan Herald, and the Cambrian.
The terminus of the Swansea Valley Railway, opened in
1860, is at Swansea, and by means of the South Wales
line the town is placed in direct communication with Glou¬
cester on the one side, and Milford on the other. Constant
steam communication by sea is kept up with Bristol and
Liverpool. Swansea is 216 miles from London, and 84
from Bristol; and the borough has a population (in 1860)
of about 50,000.
SWARTZ, Olof, a celebrated Swedish botanist, was
born at Norrkbping in East Gothland in 1760. He com¬
menced his studies in Upsal, and began early to make
excursions through various districts of Sweden in quest of
SWE
The early history of Sweden, like that of most other
countries, is involved in fable. Some historians pretend to
give regular lists of the kings who reigned over this country
from very early times, but these differ so much from each
other, that no degree of credit is to be given to any of them.
It is generally agreed that Christianity was first established
here in the beginning of the eleventh century, by Olaf,
surnamed Skotkonung ; but different lists of kings are given
down to the twelfth century. This may be partly ac¬
counted for from there being sometimes two kings reigning
in the country at the same time, one over the Goths, the
other over the Swedes, and sometimes either of these races
would have two kings ruling over them.
On the death of Inge II. in 1129, the Swedes conferred
the royal dignity on a private individual, named Swerker I.;
and to conciliate the Goths, who supported the claims of
Eric, descended from a female branch of the royal family,
it was agreed that Eric should succeed Swerker, and that
afterwards the representatives of each of the two families
should reign alternately. Accordingly, on the death of
Swerker in 1155, Eric ascended the throne, and signalised
his reign by the subjection of the Fins and the establishment
of Christianity among them, and by the compilation of a
code of laws. The arrangement come to with respect to
the succession led, as might have been expected, to endless
disputes, but the order was observed with several succeed¬
ing sovereigns. About the year 1319, Magnus Smeck,
then an infant, ascended the throne, and subsequently, in
right of his mother, succeeded to the crown of Norway.
In 1343 he was deposed by the diet, and his son Eric
raised to the throne, but on the death of the latter, in 1359,
he was restored. He established his son Haquin in Nor¬
way, and induced him to marry Margaret, daughter of
Waldemar IV., king of Denmark; and having strength¬
ened himself by his connection with these states he attempted
to obtain absolute power in Sweden by abolishing the se¬
nate. The Swedes, however, immediately rose in defence
of their liberties, expelled Magnus, and elected Albert,
second son of the Duke of Mecklenburg, in his room. Albert
soon after entered into a league, offensive and defensive,
with the Earl of Holstein, the Jutland nobility, the Dukes
of Sleswick, Mecklenburg, and the Hanse Towns, against
War with the Kings of Denmark and Norway. At that time he proved
Denmark very successful against Waldemar king of Denmark, driving
and Nor- him entirely out of his dominions; but he himself was
defeated by the King of Norway, who laid siege to his capital.
A new treaty was soon afterwards concluded, by which
SWE 845
botanical specimens. He made a voyage to America Sweden,
in 1783, and returned to England in 1788, on his way ^
home. After staying about a year, diligently examining
whatever was of note in regard to his favourite study in
Britain, he returned to Sweden in 1789, and was made
professor of natural history in the medical school of Stock¬
holm. He published his first work on mosses at Erlan¬
gen in 1799. We can only signalize his works, which were
as follows:—Nova Genera et Species Plant arum, 1788 ;
Observationes Botanicce, 1791; leones Plantarum In-
cognitarum, 1794-1800; Flora Indice Occidentalism 1806;
Synopsis Filicum, 1806; Summa Vegetabilium Scandi¬
navia Systematice co-ordinatorum, 18 J 4. Besides writing
from the 5th to the 8th volume of the Svensk Botanik, a
national work on Swedish botany, he also contributed
numerous papers to the Philosophical Transactions, and
to the Transactions of the Linncean Society of London. He
added some 50 genera and 850 species to the list of flower-
ing plants, and a great number to the class of cryptogamia.
He died in 1818.
DEN.
Albert was allowed to enjoy the crown of Sweden in peace.
Having, however, formed a design of rendering himself
absolute, he so displeased his subjects that Margaret of Nor¬
way was proclaimed queen of Sweden by the malcontents.
A war immediately ensued, in which Albert was defeated Is defeated
and taken prisoner; but as the princes of Mecklenburg, and taken
the earls of Holstein, and the Hanse Towns, entered into aPrisonerby
league in his favour, the war raged with more fury than
ever. At length the contending parties were reconciled.0 orwa7*
Albert was set at liberty, on condition that he should in Set at lib-
three years resign to Margaret all pretensions to the city oferty> A‘D-
Stockholm ; and the Hanse Towns engaged to pay the sum139i*
of 60,000 marks of silver if Albert should break that treaty.
Eric, the son of Albert, died not long afterwards; and hav¬
ing no other child, he did not think it worth his while to
contend for the kingdom of Sweden: he therefore acquiesced
in the pretensions of Margaret, and passed the remainder of
his days at Mecklenburg.
Margaret died in 1415, and was succeeded by Eric of Margaret is
Pomerania. This prince’s reign was cruel and oppressive, succeeded
His misdeeds produced a revolt; and Charles Canutson, by Eric> a
grand mareschal of Sweden and governor of Finland, hav-
ing joined the malcontents, was declared commander-in-1415,
chief of their army. Eric was now formally deposed, and
Canutson was chosen regent; but beginning to oppress the
people, and aspiring openly to the crown, the Swedes and
Danes revolted. This event was followed by a revolution ;
and Christopher duke of Bavaria, nephew to Eric, was
chosen king of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, in 1442.
On the accession of this prince, complaints against Ca- Charles
nutson were presented from all quarters; but through the Canutson,
interest of his friends he escaped punishment; and in 1448, A*r>‘1448*
Christopher having died, after a tyrannical reign of about
five years, he was raised to the throne to which he had so
long aspired. The kingdoms of Denmark and Norway
however refused allegiance to him, and a war immediately
ensued. In 1454 peace was concluded, and Denmark for
the present freed from the Swedish yoke. Nor did Canut¬
son long enjoy the crown of Sweden. Having quarrelled
with the magistrates and the Archbishop of Upsala, the
latter formed so strong a party that the king could not
resist him. Canutson died in 1470, after a long and tur¬
bulent reign.
The affairs of Sweden continued to be involved in the a.d. 1520.
utmost confusion till the year 1520, when a great revolu¬
tion was effected by Gustavus Ericson, a nobleman of the
first rank, who restored the kingdom to its liberty, and laid
846
History.
Christiern
king of
Denmark
invades
Sweden,
but is de¬
feated and
driven out.
He trea¬
cherously
carries off
six hos¬
tages, of
whom Gus-
tavus Eric-
son is one,
a.d. 1519.
Ts chosen
king, and
proves a
most
bloody
tyrant.
Massacres
the nobi¬
lity.
Adven¬
tures of
Gustav us
Vasa or
Ericson.
SWEDEN.
the foundation of its future grandeur. In 1518, Chnstiern
king of Denmark had invaded Sweden, with a design to sub¬
due the whole country ; but being defeated with great loss
by young Steen Sture, at that time regent, he set sail for
Denmark. Meeting with contrary winds, he made several
descents on the Swedish coast, which he ravaged with all
the fury of an incensed barbarian. I he inhabitants bravely
defended themselves, and Christiern was reduced to the
utmost distress. He then thought of a stratagem which
had almost proved fatal to the regent; for having invited
him to a conference, at which he designed either to assassi¬
nate or take him prisoner, Sture was about to comply, when
the senate, who suspected the plot, enterposed to prevent
him. Christiern then offered to proceed in person to Stock¬
holm in order to confer with Sture, on condition that six
hostages should be sent to his place. They were accord-
ino-ly sent; but the wind happening then to prove favour¬
able, he set sail for Denmark with the hostages, of whom
Gustavus Ericson was one. Next year he returned, and
having drawn Sture into an ambush, the regent received a
wound, of which he died some time after. The kingdom
being thus left without a head, matters soon came to the
most desperate crisis. The army disbanded itself; and
the senate, instead of taking proper measures to oppose the
enemy, spent their time in idle debates. Christiern in the
mean time advanced into the heart of the kingdom, destroy¬
ing every thing with fire and sword; but on his arrival at
Stragnez, he granted a suspension of arms, on condition
that they would elect him king. 1 o this condition they
submitted, and Christiern proved one of the most bloody
tyrants that ever sat on the throne of any kingdom. Im¬
mediately after his coronation, he gave grand entertain¬
ments for three days; during which time he projected the
diabolical design of extirpating at once all the Swedish
nobility, and thus for ever preventing the people from
revolting, by depriving them of their proper leaders. As
the tyrant had signed articles by which he promised indem¬
nity to all who had borne arms against him, it became
necessary to invent some cause of offence against those
whom he intended to destroy. To accomplish his purpose,
Gustavus Trolle, formerly archbishop of Upsala, but who
had been degraded from that dignity, in an oration before
his majesty lamented the demolition of Stecka, his place of
residence, and the losses sustained by the see of Upsala,
amounting to a very large sum of money. He then pro¬
ceeded in a bitter accusation against the widow and the
son-in- law of Sture, the late regent, comprehending in the
same accusation about fifteen of the principal nobility, the
whole senate, and the burghers of Stockholm. In conse¬
quence of this, about eighty of the principal nobility and
people of the first rank in Sweden, among whom was the
father of Gustavus Vasa, were hanged as traitors. Innu¬
merable other cruelties were committed, part of which are
owned by the Danish historians, and the whole are minutely
related by those of Sweden. At last he departed for Den¬
mark, ordering gibbets to be erected, and causing the
peasants to be hanged on them for the slightest offences.
This monstrous cruelty, instead of securing him on the
throne, exasperated the whole nation against him. It has
already been mentioned, that Gustavus Ericson, or, as he
is commonly called, Gustavus Vasa, was among the num¬
ber of the hostages whom Christiern had perfidiously car¬
ried to Denmark in 1519. At length he escaped from con¬
finement and fled to Liibeck, which he in vain endea¬
voured to gain over to his aid, and afterwards he took
refuge in the mountains of Dalecarlia. A price being set
upon his head, and death threatened to every one who
afforded him the least assistance, he was frequently reduced
to the deepest distress. He wrought for some time as a
labourer in the mines of Fahlun; and on more than one
occasion he narrowly escaped detection. At length he
seized a favourable opportunity to reveal himself at an History,
annual feast of the peasantry, who were soon excited to v—
enthusiasm in his cause, and instantly resolved to throw
off the Danish yoke. Gustavus did not allow their ardour
to cool, but instantly led them against the governor’s castle,
which he took by assault, and put the garrison to the
sword. This inconsiderable enterprise was attended with
the most happy consequences. Great numbers of the
peasants flocked to his standard ; some of the gentry openly
espoused his cause, and others supplied him with money.
Christiern was soon informed of what had passed; but
despising such an inconsiderable enemy, he sent only a
slender detachment to assist his adherents in Dalecarlia.
Gustavus advanced with 5000 men, and defeated a body of The Danes
Danes ; but he was strenuously opposed by the Archbishop defeated,
of Upsala, who raised numerous forces for Christiern. The
fortune of Gustavus, however, still prevailed, but the arch¬
bishop was defeated with great loss. Gustavus then laid
seige to Stockholm; but his force being unequal to such
an binder taking, he was forced to abandon it with loss.
This check did not prove in any considerable degree
detrimental to the affairs of Gustavus ; the peasants fiom
all parts of the kingdom flocked to his camp, and he was
joined by a reinforcement from Lubeck. Christiern, un- Horrid
able to suppress the revolt, wreaked his vengeance on the cruelty of
mother and sisters of Gustavus, whom he put to death.
His barbarities served only to make his enemies more reso¬
lute. Gustavus having assembled the states at Wadstena,
he was unanimously chosen regent, the Diet taking an oath
of fidelity to him, and promising to assist him to the utmost.
Having thus obtained the sanction of legal authoiity, he
pursued his advantages against the Danes. A body of Success of
troops appointed to throw succours into Stockholm was cut Gustavus.
in pieces ; and the regent sending some forces into Finland,
struck the Danes there with such terror, that the Archbishop
of Upsala, together with the Danish governors, fled to
Denmark. Christiern then sent express orders to all his
governors and officers in Finland and Sweden, to massacre
the Swedish gentry without distinction. The Swedes
made reprisals by massacring all the Danes that they could
find, so that the country was filled with slaughter.
In the mean time Gustavus had laid siege to the towns of
Cal mar, Abo, and Stockholm ; but Norby found means to
oblige him to retire with loss. Gustavus, in revenge, laid
siege to the capital a third time, and applied to the regency
of Lubeck for a squadron of ships and other succours for
carrying on the siege. This request was granted on con¬
dition that Gustavus should oblige himself, in the name of
the states, to pay 60,000 marks of silver as the expense of
the armament; that, until the kingdom should be in a con¬
dition to pay that sum, the Lubeck merchants trading to
Sweden should be exempted from all duties on impoits or
exports ; that all other nations should be prohibited from
trading with Sweden, and that such traffic should be deemed
illicit; that Gustavus should neither conclude a peace, nor
even agree to a truce, with Denmark, without the concur¬
rence of the regency of Lubeck; and that it the republic
should be attacked by Christiern, he should enter Denmark
at the head of 20,000 men. On these hard terms Gustavus
obtained assistance from the regency of Lubeck ; nor did
his dear-bought allies prove very faithful. They did not
indeed transfer their services to his enemy ; but in a sea-
fight, where the Danes were entirely in their power, they
suffered them to escape, when their whole force might have
been entirely destroyed. This treachery had nearly ruined
the affairs of Gustavus ; for Norby was now making prepa¬
rations effectually to relieve Stockholm, and would probably
have succeeded in the attempt, if at this critical period news
had not arrived that the Danes had revolted, and driven
Christiern from the throne; and that the king had retired
into Germany, in hopes of being restored by the arms of
SWEDEN.
847
History, his brother-in-law the emperor. On hearing this intelli-
gence, Norby retired with his whole fleet to the island of
Gothland, leaving but a slender garrison in Calmar. Gus-
tavus did not fail to improve this opportunity to his own
advantage, and quickly made himself master of the town.
In the mean time Stockholm continued closely invested,
but he thought proper to protract the siege till he should
be elected king. Having for this purpose called a general
diet, he first filled up the vacancy in the senate occasioned
by the massacres of Christiern. He had the address to
He is cho- procure the nomination of such as were in his interest. The
sen king of assembly was no sooner met, than one of his partisans made
a sPeec^5 containing the highest encomiums on Gustavus,
A' ’ ’ setting forth in the strongest terms the many eminent ser¬
vices which he had rendered to his country, and concluding
that the states would show themselves equally ungrateful and
blind to their own interest if they did not immediately elect
him king. This proposal was acceded to by such tumultuous
acclamations that it was impossible to collect the votes; so
that Gustavus himself acknowledged, that their affection
exceeded his merit, and was more agreeable to him than
the effects of their gratitude. He was urged to have the
ceremony of his coronation immediately performed; but this
he delayed, in consequence of some designs which he had
formed to reduce the exorbitant power of the clergy. He
had himself embraced the doctrines of the reformed religion,
and did all in his power to establish the reformation in his
new kingdom. His design could not fail to raise against
him the enmity of the clergy, and of all the more supersti¬
tious part of his subjects. The first years of his reign were
accordingly embittered by internal disturbances and revolts,
which were aided and fomented by the deposed Christiern,
who was at one time very near regaining possession of the
Swedish dominions.
Unsuccess- Christiern having established a powerful interest in Nor-
ful attempt way, 0nce more made an attempt to recover his kingdoms,
of Christi- an(j wag j0ine(j by the Dalecarlians$ but being defeated by
the Swedish forces, he was compelled to return to Norway,
where, being obliged to capitulate with the Danish gene¬
rals, he was detained in captivity during the remainder of
his life.
Unsuccess- In 1542, Gustavus having happily extricated himself out
ful negoci- of all his troubles, prevailed on the states to make the
ation for a crown hereditary in his family; after which he applied
witho’6 nt0 the encouragement of learning and commerce.
Elizabeth. A treaty was set on foot for a marriage between his eldest
a. d. 1542. son Eric and the princess Elizabeth of England ; but this
negociation failed of success.
Gustavus Gustavus Vasa died in 1560, and was succeeded by his
dies, and is son Eric XIV. The new king was possessed of all the ex-
succeeded terjor ornaments which gave an air of dignity to the per-
a^dTsGO son’ hut he had neither the prudence nor the penetration,
"of his father. He created the first nobility that were ever
known in Sweden ; but this he had no sooner done than he
quarrelled with them, bypassing some act which they thought
derogatory to their honour and dignity. The whole course
of his reign was disturbed by wars with Denmark and dis¬
putes with his own subjects. In the former he was unfor¬
tunate, and towards the latter he behaved with the great-
Eric de- est cruelty. At last, he is said to have become mad. He
posed, and afterwards recovered his senses, but was soon dethroned by
succeeded his brothers ; one of whom, named John, succeeded him in
ther John*t^ie kingdom.
This revolution took place in the year 1568, but with no
great advantage to Sweden. Disputes about religion be¬
tween the king and his brothers, and wars with Russia,
Erince Si- threw matters into the utmost confusion. Prince Sigis-
gismund mund, the king’s son, was chosen king of Poland, which
kin/Tof Prove(i Ike source of much trouble to the kingdom. In
Poland. 1590 King John died, and as Sigismund was at a dis-
A-». 1568. tance, public affairs fell into the utmost confusion ; the
*
treasury was plundered, and the royal wardrobe spoiled, History,
even before Duke Charles could come to Stockholm to
undertake the administration till King Sigismund should ^ouc“^8
return. This however was far from being the greatest crown 0f
disaster which befell the nation at this time. It was known Sweden,
that the king had embraced the popish religion, and it was a. d. 1590.
with good reason suspected that he would attempt to re¬
store it upon his arrival in Sweden. Sigismund was also
obliged, on leaving Poland, to promise that he would remain
no longer in Sweden than was necessary to regulate his
affairs. These circumstances served to alienate the minds
of the Swedes from their sovereign, even before they saw
him; and the universal dissatisfaction was increased by
seeing him attended on his arrival in Sweden in 1593 by
the pope’s nuncio, to whom he made a present of 30,000
ducats to defray the expenses of his journey to Sweden.
What the people had foreseen was too well verified. A party
The king refused to confirm the protestants in their reli- formed
gious privileges, and showed such partiality on all occasions ^‘nst
to the papists, that a party was formed against him, at the
head of which was Duke Charles, his uncle. Remon¬
strances, accompanied with threats, took place on both
sides. Sigismund was apparently reconciled to his uncle,
and promised to comply with the inclinations of the people,
though without any inclination to perform what he had pro¬
mised. The agreement indeed was scarcely made, before Forms a
Sigismund conceived the horrid design of murdering his design of
uncle at the Italian comedy acted the night after his coro- Jnur<ferjn£
» cj /iis uncle
nation. The duke, however, having notice of the plot
found means to defeat it. This enraged the king so much,
that he had resolved to accomplish his designs by force;
and he therefore commanded a Polish army to march to¬
wards the frontiers of Sweden, where they committed all
the ravages that could be expected from an enraged and
cruel enemy. Complaints were made by the protestant
clergy to the senate; but no other answer was returned
than that, till the king’s departure, they should abstain from
those bitter invectives and reproaches, which had provoked
the Catholics, and that during his absence they would be
at more liberty.
In 1595 Sigismund set sail for Dantzig, leaving the ad¬
ministration in the hands of Duke Charles. The conse¬
quence of this was, that the dissensions which had already
taken place being continually increased by the obstinacy
of the king, Charles assumed the sovereign power ; and in Sigismund
1604 Sigismund was formally deposed, and his uncle Charles deposed,
IX. raised to the throne. He proved a wise and brave
prince, restoring the tranquillity of the kingdom, and car- CharlesIX
rying on a war with vigour against Poland and Denmark. A. u. 1604!
He died in 1611, leaving the kingdom to his son, the cele¬
brated Gustavus Adolphus.
Though Charles IX. by his wise and vigorous conduct State of
had in some measure retrieved the affairs of Sweden, they Sweden on
were still in a very bad condition. The finances of the ea'
kingdom were entirely drained by a series of wars and re- Gustavus
volutions; powerful armies were preparing in Denmark, Po- Adolphus,
land, and Russia, while not only the Swedish troops were in-a. d. 1611.
ferior in number to their enemies, but the government was
destitute of resources for their payment. Though the
Swedish laws required that the prince should have attained
his eighteenth year before he was of age, yet such striking
marks of the great qualities of Gustavus appeared, that he
was allowed by the states to assume the administration be¬
fore this early period. His first act was to resume all the
crown-grants, in order that he might be enabled to carry on
the wars in which he was engaged, and to fill all places,
both civil and military, with persons of merit. At the
head of domestic and foreign affairs was placed the chan¬
cellor Oxenstiern, a person every way equal to the import¬
ant trust, and the choosing of whom impressed Europe with
the highest opinion of the young monarch’s penetration.
848 . S W E
History. Soon after his accession, Gustavus received an embassy
v -i_ v ' from James I. of Britain, exhorting him to make peace with
his neighbours. This was seconded by another from Hol¬
land. But as the king perceived that the Danish monarch
intended to take every opportunity of crushing him, he re¬
solved to act with such vigour as might convince him that
He invades he was not easily to be overcome. Accordingly, he invaded
Denmark, Denmark with three different armies at once ; and though
and obliges tjie enemy’s superiority at sea gave them great advantages,
the king to ^ the num];)er 0f the king’s enemies distracted his atten-
peace1.1 6 a tion, he carried on the war with such spirit, that, in 1613, a
peace was concluded on terms favourable to himself. This
war being finished, Gustavus applied himself to civil polity,
and made some reformation in the laws of Sweden. In 1615,
hostilities were commenced against Russia, on account of
the refusal of that court to repay some money which had
Russia in- been formerly lent. The king entered Ingria, took Kex-
vaded with holm by storm, and was laying siege to Plescov, when, by
success. the mediation of James L, peace was concluded, on condi¬
tion of the Russians repaying the money, and yielding to
Sweden some part of their territory. In this and the for¬
mer war, notwithstanding the shortness of their duration,
Gustavus learned the rudiments of the military art, for which
Extraordi- he soon became so famous. He is said to have taken every
nary milb opportunity of improvement with a quickness of under-
rary genius stan(Jing seemingly more than human. In one campaign,
ot the king. he not only ]earne(jj but improved, all the military maxims
of La Gardie, a celebrated general; brought the Swedish
army to a more steady and regular discipline; and formed
an invincible body of Finlanders, who had afterwards a very
considerable share in the victories of Sweden.
Peace was no sooner concluded with Russia, than Gus¬
tavus was crowned with great solemnity at Upsala. Soon
afterwards he ordered his general La Gardie to acquaint the
Polish commander Codekowitz, that as the truce between
the two kingdoms, which had been concluded for two years,
was now expired, he desired to be certainly informed whe¬
ther he was to expect peace or war from his master. In
the mean time, having borrowed money of the Dutch for
the redemption of a town from Denmark, he had an inter¬
view on the frontiers with Christiern, the king of that coun¬
try. At this interview, the two monarchs conceived the
utmost esteem and friendship for each other; and Gusta¬
vus obtained a promise, that Christiern would not assist
Sigismund in any design he might form against Sweden.
Prepares In the mean time, receiving no satisfactory answer from
for war Poland, Gustavus began to prepare for war. Sigismund
land ^ entered into a negociation, and made some pretended con¬
cessions, with a view to seize Gustavus by treachery ; but
the latter having some intimation of his design, the whole
negociation was changed into reproaches and threats on the
part of Gustavus.
Marries a Immediately after this, Gustavus made a tour in disguise
daughter of through Germany, and married Eleonora the daughter of
the elector the elector of Brandenburg. He then resolved to enter
burjan 611 heartily into a war with Poland ; and with this view set sail
for Riga with a great fleet, which carried 20,000 men. The
.Riga he- place was well fortified, and defended by a body of veterans,
sieged and enthusiastically attached to Sigismund; but after a vigorous
taken. siege, the garrison, being reduced to extremity, were ob¬
liged to capitulate, and were treated with great clemency.
After the reduction of Riga, the Swedish monarch enter¬
ed Courland, where he reduced Mittau ; but ceded it again
on the conclusion of a truce for one year. Sigismund, how¬
ever, no sooner had time to recover himself, than he began
to form new enterprises against the Swedes in Prussia ; but
Gustavus setting sail with his whole fleet for Dantzig, where
the king of Poland then resided, so defeated his measures,
that he was obliged to prolong the truce for another year.
Sigismund w’as not yet apprised of his danger, and refused
to listen to any terms of accommodation : Gustavus enter-
D E N.
ing Livonia, defeated the Polish general, and took Dorpat, History.
Hockenhausen, and several other places of less importance ;
after which, entering Lithuania, he took the city of Birsen-|efeated.eS
Notwithstanding this success, Gustavus proposed peace on
the same equitable terms as before; but Sigismund was
still infatuated with the hopes that, by means of the empe¬
ror of Germany, he should be able to conquer Sweden.
Gustavus finding him inflexible, resolved to push his good
fortune. His generals, Horn and Thurn, defeated the Poles
in Semigallia. Gustavus himself, with 150 ships, set sail for
Prussia, where he landed at Pillau. This place was imme¬
diately surrendered to him, as were several other towns.
Sigismund, alarmed at the great progress of Gustavus, sent a
body of forces to oppose him, and to prevent Dantzig from
falling into his hands. But this measure did not produce any
powerful effect; and in May 1627, Gustavus arrived with
fresh forces before Dantzig, which he would probably have
carried, had he not been severely wounded by a cannon-
shot. The states of Holland sent ambassadors to me¬
diate a peace between the two crowns; but Sigismund, de- The Poles
pending on the assistance of the emperor of Germany and pleated a
king of Spain, determined to hearken to no terms, and resolv- A D>
ed to make a winter campaign. The king of Sweden was
however so well intrenched, and all his forts were so strongly
garrisoned, that the utmost efforts of the Poles were to no
purpose. The city of Dantzig, in the mean time, made such
a desperate resistance as greatly irritated him. In a sea en- The Poles
gagement the Swedish fleet defeated that of the enemy; after defeated by
which Gustavus, having blocked up the harbour with his g^an
fleet, pushed his advances on the land side with incredible vested.
vigour. He made a surprising march over a morass fifteen
miles broad, assisted by bridges of a peculiar construction,
over which he carried a species of light cannon invented
by himself. By this unexpected manoeuvre he obtained The king
the command of the city in such a manner, that the garri-®^ ^unda^
son were on the point of surrendering, when, by a sudden tion of the
swell of the Vistula, the Swedish works were destroyed, and Vistula to
the king was obliged to raise the siege. In other respects, raise the
however, the affairs of Gustavus proceeded with their usual siege,
good fortune. His general Wrangel defeated the Poles
before Brodnitz. At Stum the king gained another and
more considerable victory in person. Ihe emperor had
sent 5000 foot and 2000 horse under Arnheim, who joined
the main army commanded by the Polish general Coniec-
spolski, in order to attack the Swedish army encamped
at Quidzin. The enemy were so much superior in num- The Poles
ber, that the friends of Gustavus warmly dissuaded him
from attacking them. But the resolution of the king vyas feated with
not to be shaken, and the engagement commenced. Thegreat
Swedish cavalry charged with such impetuosity, contra-slaughter
ry to their sovereign’s express order, that they were al-mtvvoen-
most surrounded by the enemy; but, coming up to their&a£emen ^
assistance, he pushed the enemy’s infantry with so much
vigour, that they gave way, and retreated to a bridge that
had been thrown over the Werder. But here they were
disappointed, for the Swedes had already taken posses¬
sion of the bridge. A new action ensued, more bloody
than the former, in which the king was exposed to great
danger, and thrice narrowly escaped being taken prisoner ;
but at last the Poles wrere totally defeated, and with im¬
mense loss. The slaughter of the German auxiliaries was
so great, that Arnheim scarcely carried off one half of the
troops which he brought into the field. This defeat did not They are
hinder the Polish general from attempting the siege of again de-
Stum ; but here he was as unsuccessful as in his previous
enterprises. Arnheim was recalled, and was succeeded by consent to
Henry of Saxe-Lauenburg and Philip Count Mansfeldt. a truce of
The change of general officers, however, produced no good six years,
consequences to the Poles ; a famine and plague raged in
their camp, so that they were at last obliged to consent to
a truce for six years, to expire in the month of June 1635.
SWEDEN.
849
the empe
ror
Reduces
W olgast,
History. Gustavus kept the port and citadel of Memel, the harbour
'"-^v—^ of Pillau, the towns of Elbing, Brunsberg, and all that he
had conquered in Livonia.
Gustavus Gustavus having thus brought the war with Poland to
resolves on an honourable conclusion, began to think of resenting the
thTfunne conduct of the emperor in assisting his enemies and op¬
pressing the protestant states. Before embarking in such
an important undertaking, it was necessary that he should
consult the diet. Here the propriety of engaging in a war
with Germany was warmly debated ; but, after much alter¬
cation, the king, in a very noble speech, determined the
matter, having declared in such strong terms the virtuous
motives by which he was actuated, that the whole assembly
wept, and every thing was granted which he could require.
It was not difficult for him to begin his expedition. His
troops amounted to 60,000 men, hardened by a succession
of severe campaigns in Russia, Finland, Livonia, and Prus¬
sia. His fleet exceeded seventy sail, carrying from twenty
to forty guns, and manned with 6000 seamen. Embark¬
ing his troops, he landed at Usedom on the 24th of June
1630, the Imperialists having evacuated all the fortresses
which they there possessed; and the isle of Rugen had
been before reduced by General Lesley, in order to secure
a retreat if fortune should prove unfavourable. Passing the
strait, Gustavus stormed Wolgast, and another strong for-
Stettin, &c. tress in the neighbourhood, leaving a garrison for the de-
a. d. 1630. fence 0f these conquests. He then proceeded to Stettin,
which consented to receive a Swedish garrison, and the
king persuaded the duke of Pomerania to enter into an al¬
liance with him. In consequence of this the Swedish troops
were received into several towns of Pomerania; and the
most bitter enmity took place between the Imperialists and
Pomeranians.
These successes of Gustavus struck the empire with con¬
sternation ; for, being already overwhelmed with civil dis¬
sensions, they were in no condition to resist so impetuous
Count Til-an enemy. At last Count Tilly was invested with the dig-
ly the em- nity of field-marshal. In the mean time, the king, being
peror s ge- reinforced by a considerable body of troops in Finland and
Livonia under the conduct of Gustavus Horn, defeated the
Imperialists before Griffenhagen, and soon afterwards took
the place by assault. By this and some other conquests, he
opened a passage into Lusatia and Silesia ; but in the mean
time Tilly cut off 2000 Swedes at New Brandenburg. This
Frankfurt advantage, however, was soon overbalanced by the con-
and Lands-quest of Frankfurt on the Oder, which Gustavus took by
berg taken assault, making the whole garrison prisoners. Thus he
by Gusta- commanded the rivers Elbe and Oder on both sides, and
had a fair passage, not only to the countries already men¬
tioned, but also to Saxony and the hereditary dominions of
the house of Austria. He soon afterwards laid siege to
Landsberg, which he took by assault.
About this time the protestant princes held a diet at
Leipzig, to which Gustavus sent deputies, and conducted
his negociations with such address as tended greatly to pro-
He reduces mote his interests. Immediately after this he reduced
Pomerania, Greifswald, and with it all Pomerania. Having then march-
and re- e(j to Gustrow, he restored the dukes of Mecklenburg to
their dominions.
All this time Tilly was employed in the siege of Magde¬
burg ; but being alarmed at the repeated successes of the
Swedes, he now left Pappenheim with part of the army be¬
fore that city, while he marched with the rest into Thurin¬
gia, to attack the landgrave of Hesse-Cassel and the elector
Magdeburg of Saxony. After a most obstinate defence, Magdeburg
taken by fell into the hands of Pappenheim, who committed all ima-
riabsts^and§“ia^e cruelties. The king formed a plan of recovering
the inhabi- the city ’ but was obliged to abandon it, by Pappenheim’s
tants cruel- throwing himself into the place with his whole army, and
ly used. by the progress which Tilly was making in Thuringia. Re¬
linquishing this enterprise, he ordered an attack on Havels-
vol. xx.
Outs off
2000
Swedes.
stores the
dukes of
Mecklen¬
burg.
burg; which was conducted with such resolution, that the History,
place was forced in a few hours, and all the garrison made “-v—
prisoners. Werben was next obliged to submit after an^^eL'
obstinate conflict, in which many fell on both sides. These We?ben re¬
successes obliged Tilly to attempt in person to check the duced, and
progress of the Swedes. He detached the vanguard of his the cavalry
army, composed of the flower of the Imperial cavalry, within °f the Im
a few miles of the Swedish camp. An action ensued, in
which Bernstein the Imperial general was defeated and kill- ^ tjje
ed, with 1500 of his men. Gustavus, after this advantage, Swedes,
placed himself in a situation so much superior to that of his
enemies, that Tilly was fired with indignation, and marched
up to the Swedish lines to give him battle. The king kept
within his works, and Tilly attacked his camp, though al¬
most impregnably fortified, and maintained a most terrible
fire from a battery of thirty-two pieces of cannon ; which,
however, produced no other effect than obliging the Swe¬
dish monarch to draw up his army behind the walls of Wer¬
ben. Tilly had placed his chief hopes in being able to Count Til-
spike the enemy’s cannon, or set fire to their camp; after ly defeated
which he proposed making his grand attack. With this by Gusta-
view he bribed some prisoners; but they betrayed him, and vus*
communicated his design to Gustavus. The king ordered
fires to be lighted in different parts of his camp, and his
soldiers to imitate the noise of a tumultuous disorderly rab¬
ble. This had the desired effect. The count led his army
to the breach made by the cannon, where he was received
with such a volley of grape-shot as cut off the first line, and
put the whole body in disorder, so that they could never
be brought back to the charge. In this confusion the Im¬
perial army was attacked, and after an obstinate conflict
obliged to quit the field.
Soon after this action the queen arrived at the camp with A body of
a reinforcement of 8000 men; at the same time a treaty British sol-
was concluded with Charles I. of England, by which that comes
monarch allowed the marquis of Hamilton to raise 6000
men for the service of Gustavus. These auxiliaries were 0f ^
to be conducted to the main army by a body of 4000 Swedes.
Swedes; and were in every thing to obey the king while
he was personally present, but in his absence were to be
subject to the orders of the marquis. With these troops
the king had resolved to make a diversion in Bremen ; but
the marquis finding it impossible to effect a junction with
the Swedish army, resolved, without debarking his troops,
to steer his course for the Oder, and land at Usedom. Gus¬
tavus was very much displeased at finding his project thus
disconcerted; but making the best of the present circum¬
stances, he commanded the British troops to act on the
Oder instead of the Weser. The number of this little army
was magnified exceedingly by report, insomuch that Tilly
had some thoughts of marching against them with his whole
force ; but on the departure of the marquis for Silesia, he
reinforced the army in that country with a large detach¬
ment, which was thought to contribute not a little to the
defeat which he soon after received.
Since the late action Gustavus had kept within his in-
trenchments, where his army was well supplied with provi¬
sions and stores. Tilly made several attempts to surprise
or draw him to an engagement; but finding all his endea¬
vours fruitless, he marched into Saxony, and laid siege to
Leipzig. This precipitate measure proved highly advan¬
tageous to the Swedish monarch. A treaty offensive and
defensive was immediately concluded with Gustavus; and
the elector willingly promised every thing that was required
of him. Tilly, in the mean time, carried fire and sword Saxony ra-
into the electorate. At the head of an army of 44,000 ve-vaged by
terans, he summoned the city of Leipzig to surrender ; de- Count Til-
nouncing, in case of a refusal, the same vengeance against
it as had been executed on Magdeburg. The governor was zjg
so much intimidated, that he instantly submitted; and he
also surrendered the castle of Passenberg, which was in a
5 P
eip-
850
SWEDEN.
History.
Battle of
Leipzig.
condition to have resisted till the arrival of the Swedish
army. The elector, enraged at the loss of these valuable
places, ordered his army to join the Swedes with all expe¬
dition, and pressed the king so warmly to engage, that at
last he yielded to his desire. On the 7th of September
1631, Gustavus led out his army in the finest order, the
a. d. 1631. Swedes forming one column on the right, and the Saxons
another on the left; each amounting to 15,000 men. Tilly
drew up his men in one vast column, probably with a view
of surrounding the flanks of the king’s army. The king
led his troops against that wing of the Imperialists com¬
manded by Pappenheim, whom he drove back to a consider¬
able distance. General Bannier in the mean time cut in
pieces the troops of Holstein, and mortally wounded the
duke, who commanded them. Pappenheim conducted his
troops seven times to the charge, but was as often repulsed
by the Swedes. Tilly all this while was engaged with the
Saxons; but having at last driven them off the field, the
whole strength of the Imperial army was turned against the
Swedish left wing. The Swedes sustained the attack with
the greatest firmness, until the king detached the centre to
assist them. The Imperialists then were no longer able to
maintain their ground ; but gave way everywhere except in
the centre, which was composed of eighteen regiments of
veterans accustomed to victory, and deemed invincible.
The Impe- They made incredible efforts to maintain their reputation ;
rialists de- and, though swept off in great numbers by the Swedish
feated with artiilery, never shrunk or fell into confusion. Four regi¬
ments, after their officers had been killed, formed them¬
selves, and withdrew to the skirt of a wood. Tilly retired
at the head of 600 men, and escaped by the coming on of
the night. Seven thousand Imperialists lay dead on the
field of battle ; 4000 were taken prisoners ; a fine train of
artillery was lost, with upwards of 100 standards, ensigns,
and other military trophies.
Gustavus now determined to penetrate into Franconia,
where he reduced several places, especially the fortress
of Wurzburg. Tilly having collected his scattered troops,
towns and which formed an army still superior in number to that of
cut off four Gustavus, marched to the relief of this place, but came too
regiments late. He then directed his march towards Rottenberg,
where four regiments were cut in pieces by a Swedish de¬
tachment. After this, the king reduced Hanau, Frank¬
furt on the Maine, and Mentz, having destroyed a body of
Spaniards who had attempted to obstruct his passage.
The court of Vienna was now thrown into the utmost
confusion, and sent everywhere begging assistance, and so¬
liciting the Catholic princes to arm in defence of their re¬
ligion. The emperor was most embarrassed in finding a
general capable of opposing Gustavus in the field; for the
late misfortunes of Count Tilly had entirely sunk his re-
......v,..- putation. Wallenstein, an old experienced officer, was se-
steiu chosen jectecj. ^ut as pe haci formerly been disgraced, it was ap-
theeem-by Prehended that he would not accept jofthe^ command of
great
slaughter.
The
Swedes
take a num¬
ber of
of the ene
my.
Wallen-
peror
A great
number of
towns
taken by
which he had once been deprived. This objection how¬
ever was surmounted ; and Wallenstein not only accepted
of the command, but, at his own expense, augmented the
army to 40,000 men.
During the whole winter the Swedish army kept the
field, and before the approach of summer had reduced a
  ^ great number of places, while the landgrave William made
the Swedes, great progress in Westphalia. Gustavus Horn was re¬
pulsed before Bamberg, but soon had his revenge, by en¬
tirely destroying two regiments of Imperialists. To pre¬
vent the troops from being affected by the loss before Bam¬
berg, the king resolved to give battle to Tilly, who was
marching into Bavaria to prevent the Swedes from gaining
a footing in that electorate. He pursued the Imperial ge¬
neral through a vast tract of country, defeated his rear¬
guard, and having reduced a variety of towns and for¬
tresses on the Danube, penetrated as far as Ulm. Ad¬
vancing to the river Leek, the count posted himself in a History,
wood on the opposite side, to dispute his passage. Gusta- ^
vus endeavoured to dislodge him by a regular fire from defeated
seventy pieces of cannon. The slaughter was dreadfld > ai1(i kiiie(j.
and 'filly himself, being wounded by a cannon-ball in the
knee, died a few days before he was to have been super¬
seded by Wallenstein. The following night the Imperial
army evacuated the post. Gustavus immediately crossed
the river, and seized the towns of Rain and Neuburg, which
the enemy had abandoned, and Augsburg next submitted.
From Augsburg the Swedes advanced towards Ratisbon,
but were disappointed in their design of obtaining possession
of that city, as the Bavarians had thrown a numerous gar¬
rison into the place. In the mean time, ambassadors ar¬
rived from Denmark, offering the mediation of that crown
for obtaining a lasting peace between the contending parties.
This negociation however failed of success, as the ambas¬
sadors had not been instructed to offer terms favourable to
the protestants, Gustavus, now resolving to retort on them- Three
selves the cruelties which the Bavarians had inflicted on towns laid
the protestants, laid the towns of Morzburg, Friesengen, jj1
and Landshut, in ashes. The inhabitants of Munich saved S;vedes
themselves by submission. Gustavus also defeated the
forces of the elector, who had been joined by a consider¬
able body of militia.
While the king was thus employed, Wallenstein had as¬
sembled a very numerous army. He was strongly solicited
by the elector of Bavaria to come to his assistance; but, in
revenge of the elector’s having formerly obtained the com¬
mand for Tilly in preference to himself, he drew off to¬
wards Bohemia to encounter the Saxons. Arnheim, who
commanded the Saxon forces in that place, was an enemy
to Gustavus, who had formerly rallied him for his cowardice.
He therefore permitted Wallenstein to gain an easy victory, The Saxon
in hopes that his master, the elector of Saxony, a prince troops de
entirely devoted to his pleasures, might be induced to re-
linquish the friendship of such a restless and warlike ally as ?t^n
Gustavus; and indeed he used all the eloquence of which
he was master to detach him from the Swedish cause. Se¬
veral advantages were in the mean time gained by the Im¬
perialists. Pappenheim defeated the archbishop of Bre¬
men’s cavalry at Werden; and three Swedish regiments
were cut off near Kadingen. Pappenheim was however
forced to retire, and to withdraw his forces from Stade, of
which the Swedes took possession. Wallenstein and the
elector of Bavaria, who had now joined their forces, threat¬
ened Gustavus with greatly superior numbers. The king,
being reinforced with 15,000 men, no longer declined the
engagement; but Wallenstein was too wise to trust the fate
of the empire to a single battle against such an enemy as
the king of Sweden. Gustavus attacked his camp, but was Gustavus
repulsed with the loss of 2000 men. Several other mis-att^ksjus
fortunes happened to the Swedes; and at last, after various•'sa™ep’lJig1ed
manoeuvres, Wallenstein directed his course towards Misnia, loss,
in order to oblige the elector of Saxony to declare against
the Swedes, and to draw them out of Bavaria. Gustavus,
notwithstanding the inconstancy of Augustus, immediately
set out to assist him. With incredible diligence he march¬
ed to Misnia, where the Imperialists were assembling their
whole strength. Hearing that the enemy were encamped
at Weissenfels, and that Pappenheim had been detached
with a strong corps, Gustavus resolved to engage them be¬
fore they could effect a junction. With this view he march- Battle of
ed to Lutzen, where he attacked Wallenstein with incre-Liitzen-
dible fury. The Swedish infantry broke the Imperialists in
spite of their utmost efforts, and took all their artillery.
The cavalry not being able to pass the river so expedi¬
tiously as the king thought necessary, he led the way, at¬
tended only by a single regiment and the duke of Saxe-
Lauenburg. Here, after charging impetuously, he was Gustavus
killed. The news of his death was in an instant spread killed.
SWEDEN.
851
History.
The Impe¬
rialists to¬
tally de¬
feated.
Christina,
an infant,
proclaimed
queen of
Sweden.
Charles
Gustav us
appointed
heir to the
crown of
Sweden.
a. n. 1654.
State of
Sweden on
the acces¬
sion of
Charles X.
War with
Poland re¬
solved on.
The Poles
defeated,
and the
kingdom
reduced.
over both armies. The courage of the Imperialists revived,
and they now made themselves sure of victory. But the
Swedes, eager to revenge the death of their beloved mo¬
narch, charged with such fury that nothing could resist
them. The Imperialists were defeated a second time, just
as Pappenheim, with his fresh corps, came up to their as¬
sistance. On this the battle was renewed, but the Swedes
were still irresistible. Pappenheim was mortally wounded,
and his army finally routed, with the loss of 9000 killed in
the field and in the pursuit.
This victory proved more unfortunate to Sweden than
the greatest defeat. The crown devolved on Christina, the
daughter of Gustavus, an infant of six years old; the na¬
tion was engaged in an expensive foreign war, without any
person equal to the arduous task of commanding the armies,
or regulating domestic affairs, as Gustavus had done. Chris¬
tina was immediately proclaimed queen. The regency de¬
volved on the grand bailiff, the marshal, the high admiral,
the chancellor, and the treasurer of the crown. Oxen-
stiern was invested with the chief management of affairs,
and conducted himself with the greatest prudence. The
reign and character of Christina have been detailed under
the article Christina, to which we may refer our readers.
From the treaty of Westphalia, Sweden enjoyed some
years of repose. Charles Gustavus, Count Palatine, having
gained the favour of Christina, was appointed generalissimo
of the forces, and heir-apparent to the crown. A marriage
was proposed between them; but the queen would never
listen to this or any other proposal of the kind. In 1650,
the ceremony of the queen’s coronation was performed;
but in four years after, she resigned the crown in favour of
Charles.
The new king found himself involved in considerable
difficulties on his accession to the throne. The treasury
was quite exhausted ; great part of the revenue was appoint¬
ed for the support of Christina’s household; the people were
oppressed with taxes; and the nation having been disarmed
for several years, began to lose its reputation among foreign¬
ers. To remedy these evils, Charles proposed to resume
all the crown-lands which had been alienated by grants to
favourites during the late reign; to repeal a duty which had
been imposed on salt; to put the kingdom in a posture of
defence; and to enter on a war with some neighbouring
state. Under a pretence that Casimir king of Poland had
questioned his title to the throne, he prepared to invade
that kingdom. Several embassies were sent from Poland
to Stockholm; but some point of ceremony always disap¬
pointed them of an audience of the king, so that they were
obliged to return without executing their commission. As
soon as matters were in readiness, General Wittemberg
made an irruption into Poland from the side of Pomerania.
The Poles opposed him with an army of 15,000 men; but
instead of fighting, they began to negociate, and in a short
time entirely dispersed. Charles himself soon followed with
a powerful army, and pursued his march without obstruc¬
tion, all the cities throwing open their gates to him as he
approached. As he advanced to Cracow, Casimir resolved
to make one effort to save his capital. His army amounted
only to 10,000 men; and these were unfortunately such as
had never stood fire. After a feeble resistance, they fled
with precipitation, having lost 1000 men killed and taken
prisoners. A few days after this Charles defeated the Poles
a second time, about eight leagues from Cracow; on which
Casimir fled with his family to Oppeln in Silesia. The
capital was then invested, and, though defended with the
utmost valour, was in a short time obliged to capitulate.
Thus in less than three months Charles apparently became
master of Poland; but it was soon evident that the Poles
had no intention of abandoning their former sovereign.
In 1656, a war took place with the elector of Branden¬
burg. While Charles was employed in the conquest of Po¬
land, that prince had invaded Royal and Ducal Prussia, and History,
reduced the most considerable towns with little opposition.
The king of Sweden took umbrage at his progress; and t^e elector
having marched against him, defeated his forces in several 0f Bran.
slight encounters, and obliged him to acknowledge himselfdenburp.
a vassal of Sweden. These rapid conquests alarmed allA. n. 1656.
Europe; and the different powers sought for means of driv¬
ing the Swedes out of Poland, which they had so unex¬
pectedly and unjustly seized. The Poles were no sooner The Poles
assured that they should obtain assistance, than they every-revolt,
where revolted and massacred the Swedes. Casimir return¬
ed from Silesia; and those very troops and generals who
had before submitted to Charles without opposition, now
ranged themselves under the banners of his antagonist.
Charles immediately marched from Prussia to chastise the Charles
insolence of the Poles, and totally defeated a body of 12,000 £^ns
men. This event did not hinder all the Poles incorporated
with his troops to desert. Their defection considerably re-retire.
duced his army; and the campaign being performed in the
depth of ivinter, he was at last obliged to retreat to Prussia.
In his march he was harassed by the Poles; and a body of
4000 Swedes was surprised and defeated by them at Warka-
This loss however was soon after recompensed by a complete
victory gained by Adolphus the king’s brother, and General
Wrangel. In the mean time the king was taking measures
for laying siege to Dantzig; but was prevented by the
Dutch, who threatened to oppose him, unless a proper re¬
gard was paid to their interest. Charles accordingly grant- Concludes
ed them advantageous terms; and afterwards gained over3 treaty
the elector of Brandenburg, by ceding to him the sovereign-
ty of Prussia, that he might be at liberty to turn his whole t^e eiector
strength against Poland. 0f Bran-
By the treaty just concluded with the elector, the latter denburg.
was to assist Charles in his war with Poland; but the elec¬
tor was so tardy in his measures, that the Poles, having ob¬
tained assistance from the Tartars, had reduced the city of
Warsaw. The two princes now marched in concert against
their enemies, who were encamped in a strong situation in
the neighbourhood of the city above mentioned, their camp
being fronted by the Vistula. The Poles were driven from The Poles
their intrenchments with prodigious slaughter. The Polesan(^ ^artar8
and Tartars then laboured to break the alliance; and withte,^at
which view, having entered Ducal Prussia, they defeated siaUghter.
the electoral army, and took many prisoners. The Swedes
soon obtained their revenge. General Steinboek attacked
the same Polish army at Philippowa, and overthrew it with
such slaughter as obliged the Poles for that season to quit
the field. A more formidable enemy than the Poles now
began to make their appearance. The Russians invaded
the provinces of Carelia, Ingermania, and Livonia; while
the elector of Brandenburg began to waver in his fidelity.
To preserve this only ally at such a critical juncture, Charles The Rus-
was obliged to grant him more advantageous terms than s'ans iJ1-
those already mentioned; and the Russians were repulsed
in the provinces of Carelia and Ingermania. But in Livo-dom—ons
nia they had better success. For seven months, however,
they battered the walls of Riga, without venturing to pass
the ditch or storm the practicable breaches.
Charles, notwithstanding the number of his enemies, was
now become so formidable by the valour and discipline of
his troops, that entire armies often fled on his approach.
At last, in 1657, the Poles, finding they could not resists d. 1657.
him in the field, contented themselves with harassing the
Swedes on their march, and cutting off the foragers and
convoys. This proved much more destructive to the Swedes Charles en-
than their former method ; so that Charles was obliged toters h,to
enter into an alliance with Ragotski, prince of Transylvania,811 alll?,ice
by assigning him certain provinces in his neighbourhood, g0tgkj
in order to furnish himself with irregular troops, who might prinee’of
fight the Poles in their own way. He did not thus obtain any Transylva-
real advantage; for the confederates, after wasting a wholenia*
852
SWEDEN.
Leopold
king of
Hungary
declares
against
Sweden.
History, campaign in Lithuania, were obliged to retire without ac-
 v 'complishing more than the reduction of a single fortress.
Charles then returned with the Swedish army to Prussia.
Leopold, the voungking of Hungary, having long beheld
the Swedes with a jealous eye, now reso ved to declare for
Poland The more effectually to curb the ambition of the
Swedish monarch, he solicited the king of Denmark to
come to a rupture with him. This application was attend-
edwith immediate success, and the Danes invaded Bremen.
Ragotski’s Charles hastened to oppose this new enemy, and he thus
army de- gave great offence to Ragotski, who, by neglecting to take
stroyed by ”he pr0per measures for his own defence in the absence of
the Poles the gWgdes> suffered his army to be destroyed by the Poles
tars and Tartars. At the same time the Turks invaded Tran¬
sylvania, under pretence that Ragotski, being a vassal of
the grand signior, had no right to invade Poland without
He is de- his permission. Ragotski, opposing them in the field, was
feated and defeated and killed, leaving Charles destitute of the only
killed by ajj on he could depend.
the Turks. The king? however, not dismayed by this misfortune,
traversed Pomerania and the duchy of Mecklenburg; after
which he attacked Holstein, while General Wrangel with
another corps entered the duchy of Bremen. The general
Bravery executed his measures with the utmost vigour. In fifteen
and success days he retook all the towns which the enemy had reduced ;
of General defeated and drove the Danish army out of the country,
Wrangel. killing 3000 of their best soldiers. In Holstein the king
reduced several fortresses, laid Itzehoe in ashes, defeated a
body of Danes, and laid siege to Frederic Udda, into which
the Danes had thrown a strong garrison. Leaving to Wran¬
gel the conduct of this siege, he himself retired toWismar
in order to observe the situation of affairs in Poland; and
no sooner was he departed than Wrangel attacked the place
with such fury, that he became master of it in two hours.
In the province of Hal land the Swedes were defeated, but
the enemy derived no advantage from their victory. At sea
the fleets met, and maintained an engagement for two days,
without any considerable advantage on either side. In Po-
The house land affairs were not better conducted. The house of Aus-
of Austria tria had now declared for Casimir; and a German army
declares having entered Poland, reduced Cracow, though not with-
out sustaining great loss.
Sweden. gweden was n0w surrounded by enemies.
The elector of Brandenburg had declared against him ; and
he had besides to engage the armies of Austria, Poland,
Charles in- Russia, and Denmark. In this dangerous situation he re-
vades Den- solved to attack Denmark, so as to oblige that state to come
mark with a gpggdy accommodation. His designs were forwarded
great sue- , a very early frogt> which enabled him to transport his
troops without shipping. Having marched over the ice to
the island of Funen, he cut in pieces a body of 4000 Danish
soldiers and 500 peasants. The whole island was reduced
in a few days ; after which he passed to Langland, then to
Laaland, after that to Falster, and lastly to Zealand. The
Danes were terrified at this unexpected invasion, and were
resigning themselves to despair, when Charles offered to
Peace con-conclude a peace on equitable terms. The king of Den-
-1J ’ mark gladly consented, intending to renew the war as soon
eluded. marK giauiy cuuseutcu, iiiiciimug, ™   
^ D- 1658, as he thought it could be done with safety.
Charles was no sooner retired, than the king of Denmark
began to act secretly against him ; on which, resolving to
anticipate him in his designs, he appeared unexpectedly
The war with a fleet before Copenhagen. The Swedish monarch
renewed, ]aid siege to the capital, but with so little prudence that he
and Copen-made n0 progress, and was at length compelled to tuin the
sieved e" sieSe into a blockade, which continued to the end of the
S ' war. Charles X. died of an epidemic fever, and was suc-
• ceeded by his son Charles XI.
Charles XI. The new king, Charles XL was a minor at the time of
a. d. 1660. his father’s death; and as the kingdom was involved in a
dangerous war with so many enemies, the regency deter¬
mined to conclude a peace, if it could be obtained on rea- History,
sonable terms. A treaty was accordingly concluded at Oli-
via, by which Casimir renounced his pretensions to the 0livia}'
crown of Poland, and that state gave up all pretensions to
Livonia. Bornholm and Drontheim were ceded to Den¬
mark, and an equivalent in Schonen remained with Swe¬
den. During the minority of the king, nothing remarkable
occurs in the history of Sweden. In 1672 he entered into War with
alliance with Louis XIV. which two years after involved Branden-
him in a war with the elector of Brandenburg. At first the urg'
Swedes carried all before them. Almost all the towns in
Brandenburg were reduced, when the elector arrived with
an army to the relief of his distressed subjects. He retook The Swede,
several towns, defeated the Swedes in a general engage-^ated by
ment, and soon after forced them to abandon all their con- gea
quests. In conjunction with the Danes, he then invaded
the Swedish dominions : many places of importance were
reduced; and, in 1676, Sweden received a most destruc-A.D. I67fi.
tive blow by the defeat of her fleet in an engagement with
the combined fleets of Denmark and Holland. The king
soon afterwards took the government into his own hands,
and in some degree restored the fortune of Sweden ; but
although he was more successful where he commanded in
person, the same losses and disgrace attended the Sw edish
arms in every other quarter. In 1678, the Swedish fleet
was defeated in two engagements. At Landscrona a most
obstinate battle was fought, from ten in the morning till six
at night, when both parties were obliged, by fatigue, to re¬
tire to their respective camps. At Oldeval, in Norway, the
Sw'edes were defeated; and the Danes laid desolate the
islands of Oeland, Smaaland, Unno, and Kuno ; while the
electoral troops and Imperialists reduced Count Kdnigs-
mark to the utmost distress in the neighbourhood of Stral-
sund. In this deplorable situation of affairs Konigsmark
found an opportunity of attacking his enemies to such ad¬
vantage, that he obtained a complete victory ; after w hich
he ravaged the duchy of Mecklenburg. Notwithstanding
this success, he could not prevent the elector from reducing
Stralsund. He wras afterwards obliged to evacuate Pome¬
rania ; and, to complete his distress, the fleet which tians-
ported the Swedish army from Pomerania was wrecked on
the coast of Bornholm.
At this unprosperous crisis a peace was concluded at St
Germains between France and her enemies, by wThich the
Swedes and Danes were left to decide their quarrel between
themselves. Denmark wras by no means a match for Swe¬
den, even in the distressed situation to which she was le-
duced; and a treaty was therefore concluded, on terms Peace con-
much more favourable to Sweden than could have been ex- eluded,
pected. The peace was confirmed by a marriage between
Charles, and Ulrica Eleonora, daughter to the king of Den¬
mark. From this time the Swedish monarch applied him- Charlesbe-
self to the reformation of the state ; and by artfully manag- a
ing the disputes between the nobility and the peasants, he
obtained a decree empowering him to alter the constitution
as he pleased. The proceedings of the king after this de¬
cree were such as to exasperate the nobility, and produce
violent commotions.
On the 15th of April 1697, died Charles XI. leaving his CharlesXL
crown to his son, the celebrated Charles XII. at that time dies, an is
a minor. On his accession, he found himself under the gon
tuition of his grandmother Eleonora, who had governed the Charles
kingdom during the minority of the late king. Though xil.
Charles was at that time only fifteen years of age, he show¬
ed a desire of taking the government into his own hands.
His counsellors, Count Piper and Axel Sparre, signified his
desire to the queen-regent. By her they were referred to
the states, and there all were unanimous ; so that the queen,
finding that opposition would be vain, resigned her power
with a good grace ; and Charles was invested with absolute
authority in three days after he had expressed his desire of
SWEDEN.
History, reigning alone. He was scarcely seated on the throne when
a powerful combination was formed against him. Augustus
TOinb^rm-11 king of Poland formed designs on Livonia; the king of
tion form- Denmark revived his disputes with the duke of Holstein,
ed against as a prelude to a war with Sweden ; and Peter the Great
him. of Russia began to form designs on Ingria, formerly a pro¬
vince of Russia. In 1699 the king of Denmark marched
Holstein an army into Holstein. Charles sent a considerable body
ravaged by of troops to the duke’s assistance ; but before their arrival
the^Danes. the Danes had ravaged the country, taken the castle of Got-
’ torp, and laid close siege to Tonningen. Here the king of
Denmark commanded in person, and was assisted by the
troops of Saxony, Brandenburg, Wolfenbuttel, and Hesse-
Cassel. Britain and Holland, as guarantees of the last treaty
with Denmark, in concert with Sweden, joined Charles
against this confederacy, and sent fleets to the Baltic. They
proposed a termination of the war on equitable terms; but
these were haughtily refused by the Danish monarch, who
despised the youth and inexperience of Charles, and relied
too much on the alliance which he had formed with Saxony,
They are Brandenburg, Poland, and Russia. Tonningen, however,
repulsed at resisted all his efforts; and when he ordered the place to
Tonmn- stormed, he had the mortification to see his troops driven
headlong from the walls by a handful of Swedes.
Charles de- In the year 1700, Charles, having intrusted the affairs
feats the 0f the nation with a council chosen out of the senate, set
allies t^6 °U^ 0n t^ie May fr°m his capital, to which he never
a. d. 1700. ^erwards returned. He embarked at Carlscrona, and de¬
feated the fleet of the allies. Having made a descent on
the island of Zealand, he defeated a body of cavalry that
opposed his march, and then proceeded to invest Copen¬
hagen by sea and land. The king of Denmark saw the ne¬
cessity of either having his capital destroyed, or of doing
Obliges the justice to the duke of Holstein. He chose the latter; and
Danes to a treaty was concluded on much the same terms as formerly.
Charles, being thus at liberty to turn his arms against the
other princes who had conspired his destruction, resolved
Marches to lead his army against Augustus king of Poland. On the
against the road, however, he received intelligence that the czar of
Russians. Russia was on his march to oppose him, and had laid siege
to Narva with an army of 100,000 men. The contest that
ensued between Charles and Peter, with the celebrated
battles of Narva and Pultava, have been already related un¬
der Russia, so that we shall here confine ourselves chiefly
to those events in which Peter the Great was not immediately
concerned. Peter was the chief support of Augustus, and
he took the most active measures to oppose the progress of
the Swedish monarch. His want of success, and the sub¬
sequent contests between him and Charles, till the decisive
battles of Pultava, are related in the same article.
Charles 1° 1701, as early as the season permitted, Charles, having
marches received a reinforcement from Sweden, took the field, and
against the appeared suddenly on the banks of the Duna, along which
a^dTjoI t^ie ^axon arrny was posted to receive him. The king of
’ Poland being at that time sick, the army was commanded
by Ferdinand duke of Courland, Marshal Stenau, and Ge¬
neral Paykel, all officers of valour and experience. They
had fortified some islands in the mouth of the river, and
taken every other precaution against an attack ; the soldiers
were hardy, well disciplined, and nearly equal to the Swedes
and entire- number; yet Charles, having passed the river in boats
ly defeats with high sides, to screen the men from the fire of the ene-
them. my, attacked them with such fury, that they were entirely
defeated, and with great loss. This victory was followed
by the surrender of all the towns and fortresses in the duchy
of Courland. Charles then passed into Lithuania, where
every town opened its gates to him. At Birsen, an army
, of 20,000 Russians retired with the utmost precipitation on
•chemVfor t^ie news bis approach. Here Charles, perceiving that
dethroning t^ie kingdom of Poland was greatly disaffected to Augustus,
Augustus, began to project the scheme of dethroning him by means
853
of his own subjects. This scheme he executed with more History,
policy than he ever showed on any other occasion. v''—^
Augustus, in the mean time, finding his scheme of peace
frustrated, had recourse to the senate; but met with such
a rough answer from them, that he determined to apply to
Charles. To him therefore he sent his chamberlain ; but
a passport being forgotten, the ambassador was arrested.
Charles continued his march to Warsaw, which surrendered Warsaw
on the first summons ; but the citadel held out for some taken,
days. Augustus, finding at last that no dependence was to
be placed on the Poles, determined to trust his fortune
wholly to the Saxon army and the nobility of the palatinate
of Cracow, who offered to support him to the utmost of
their power. The Saxon army had now advanced to the
frontiers, and Augustus immediately put himself at its head.
Being joined by the nobility of Cracow, he found that his
forces amounted to 30,000 men, all brave and well disciplined.
With these he marched in quest of his enemy; nor did the
Swedish monarch decline the combat, though he had with
him only 12,000 men. Though the Saxons were strongly The Saxons
posted, having their front covered by a morass, besides be- entirely do¬
ing fortified with pallisadoes and chevaux de frise, they were feated.
attacked with irresistible impetuosity, and entirely defeated.
This victory was followed by the loss of Cracow. Charles Cracow
then set out in pursuit of the flying army, with a design oftaken’
preventing them from re-assembling; but his horse falling
under him, he had the misfortune to break his thigh, by
which he was confined six weeks, and thus Augustus ob¬
tained some respite. He improved this interval. Having
convoked a diet, first at Marienburg, and then at Lublin,
he obtained the following resolutions; that an army of
50,000 men should be raised by the republic for the ser¬
vice of the prince ; that six weeks should be allowed the
Swedes to determine whether they were for war or peace ;
and that the same time should be granted to the turbulent
and discontented nobles of Poland to make their concessions.
To counteract the effects of these resolutions, Charles as- Remains of
sembled another diet at Warsaw; and while the two as-the Sax0“
semblies disputed concerning their rights and privileges, hea|™7 ed""
recovered from his wound, received a strong reinforcement
from Pomerania, and utterly defeated and dispersed the re-a. d. 1704,
mains of the Saxon army.
The ill fortune of Augustus continued still to prevail. In Augustus
1704 he was formally deposed by the diet, and the crown deP°^e(1>.
was conferred by Charles on Stanislas Lecsinsky, paktinej1^
of Posnania. Augustus however did not yet tamely relin-tosthe
quish his kingdom. His adherents daily skirmished with throne,
the Swedes; and Augustus himself, being reinforced by Warsaw
9000 Russians, retook Warsaw, and had nearly surprisedretaken i'y
the new king, who lived in perfect security in the city while Au£ustus-
Charles fought his battles. Count Horn, with 1500 Swedes,
vigorously defended the citadel; but at last, finding it no
longer tenable, he was obliged to surrender at discretion.
The reduction of Warsaw was among the last advantages
gained by Augustus in the course of this war. His troops
were now composed of Saxon recruits and undisciplined
Poles, who had no attachment to his person, and were read j
on all occasions to forsake him. Charles and Stanislas ad¬
vanced with the victorious army; the Saxons fled before
them, and the towns several miles round tendered their sub¬
mission. The Poles and Saxons were under the command Excellent
of Schullemberg, a most sagacious and experienced general, conduct of
who used every expedient to check the progress of the ^s, S^aera^
Swedes. With all his conduct and caution he found him- ^ U em*
self outwitted, and Charles in the neighbourhood of his
camp, ready to fall on him, while he thought him at fifty
leagues distance. The Swedish monarch attacked him with His en-
a superior army, but entirely composed of horse. Schul- gagement
lemberg had posted his men in such a manner as rendered tl*e
it impossible to surround them. His first rank, being armed Swet,e#-
with pikes and muskets, presented a rampart of bayonets; the
854
SWEDEN.
History, second line, stooping over the first, who kneeled, fired over fortifications for his defence; but the approach of the History
—'■'v-—■" their heads ; while the third rank, who stood upon their feet, Swedish general Meyerfeldt, and the news of the invasion " v-—
kept up an incessant fire, by which the Swedish horse were of Saxony, disconcerted all his measures, and plunged him
i _ -I . • 1 •  1  /^T 1 1 A.    - J .1 ~ 1 .. rPl-. ^ xsrovn nic TOlf VlTlll Cl I M OO
exceedingly galled and put in disorder. Charles lost the op¬
portunity of cutting off the whole Saxon army, by omitting
to order his men to dismount. This was almost the first
time that infantry had been regularly opposed to cavalry,
His fine re-and the superiority of the former was evident. After the
treat. engagement had continued about three hours, the Saxons
retreated in good order ; which no enemy had ever done
before in any engagement with Charles. The Swedes pur¬
sued their enemies towards the Oder, and forced them to
retreat through thick woods, almost impervious even to in-
‘ fantry. The Swedish horse, however, pushed their way,
and at last enclosed Schullemberg between a wood and the
river, where Charles had no doubt of obliging him to sur-
' render at discretion, or die sword in hand, as having neither
boats nor bridges; but the genius of Schullemberg supplied
into despair. The Russians indeed were his faithful allies, Augustus
but he dreaded them almost as much as the Swedes; so begs for
that he was reduced to the necessity of writing a letter to pea“e°^g
Charles with his own hand, begging for peace on whateverany erm *
terms he thought proper to grant. As he was then at the
mercy of the Russians, this transaction was concealed with
the greatest care. His emissaries were introduced to the
Swedish court in the night-time, and being presented to
Charles, received the following answer : that King Augus- Charles’s
tus should for ever renounce the crown of Poland, acknow- answer,
ledge Stanislas, and promise never to re-ascend the throne,
should an opportunity offer; that he should release the
princes Sobieski, and all the Swedish prisoners made in the
course of the war; surrender Patkul, at that time resident
at his court as ambassador for the czar of Russia, and stop
every defect. In the night he ordered planks and floats of proceedings against all who had passed from his into the
trees to be fastened together, on which he carried over his Swedish service. These articles Charles wrote with his
troops, while the Swedes were employed in dislodging 300 own hand, and delivered to Count Piper, ordering him to
men, whom he had placed in a wind-mill for the purpose of finish them with the Saxon ambassadors,
defending his flank, and diverting the attention of the ene- After his defeat at Pultava (see Russia) Charles fled
my. Charles spoke of this retreat with admiration, and said in a mean calash, attended by a little troop inviolably at-
Augustus
leaves Po¬
land.
The Rus¬
sians take
several
towns in
Livonia,
he had been conquered by Schullemberg.
No material advantage however resulted to Augustus, who
was again obliged to leave Poland, and fortify the capital
of his hereditary dominions, which he expected every mo¬
ment to see invested. In the mean time, the Russians hav¬
ing recovered their spirits, attacked the Swedes in Livonia
with the utmost fury. Narva, Dorpat, and several other
towns, were taken, and the inhabitants and garrison treated
and invade with great barbarity. An army of 100,000 Russians soon
Poland. afterwards entered Poland. Sixty thousand Cossacks under
Mazeppa entered the country at the same time, and com¬
mitted every outrage with the fury of barbarians. Schullem¬
berg, perhaps more formidable than either, advanced with
14,000 Saxons and 7000 Russians, disciplined in Germany,
and reputed excellent soldiers. Could numbers have de¬
termined the event of wrar, the Swedes must certainly have
been at this time overpowered; but Charles seemed to tri¬
umph over his enemies with more ease the more numerous
they were. The Russians were so speedily defeated, that
they were all dispersed before one party had notice of the
Astonish- misfortunes of another. The defeating an army of 40,000
ing success men scarcely obstructed the march of the Swedes, while
of Charles their astonished enemies looked on these actions as the ef¬
fects of witchcraft, and imagined that the king of Sweden
had dealings with infernal spirits. With these apprehen¬
sions they fled beyond the Dnieper, leaving the unhappy
Schullem- Augustus to his fate. Schullemberg, with all his skill and
berg en- experience, was not more successful. The Swedish gene-
tirely de- raj Renschild engaged and defeated him in half an hour,
Renschifd though the Swedes were vastly inferior in number, and their
enemies posted in a most advantageous situation. Nothing
could be more complete than the victory. This extraor¬
dinary victory, indeed, is said to have been owing to a panic
which seized the troops of Schullemberg; but it was re¬
garded with admiration, and thought to make the. renown
of Renschild equal to that of his sovereign. Charles him¬
self was jealous, and could not help exclaiming, “ Surely
Renschild will not compare himself with me!”
against
them.
tached to his person, some on foot, and some on horseback.
They were obliged to cross a sandy desert, where neither
herb nor tree was to be seen, and where the burning heat
and want of water were more intolerable than the ex¬
tremities of cold which they had formerly endured. The
whole had almost perished for want of water, when a spring
was fortunately discovered. They reached Otchakoff, a Charles ar-
town in the Turkish dominions, the pacha of which sup- rives in
plied the king with every necessary. It was, however, some Turkey
time before boats could be got ready for transporting the jjefgat ^
whole of the king’s attendants; by which accident 500 puitava.
Swedes and Cossacks fell into the hands of the enemy.
This loss affected him more than all his other misfortunes.
He shed tears at seeing, across the river Bog, the greater
part of his few remaining friends carried into captivity,
without having it in his power to assist them. The pacha
waited on him to apologise for the delay, and was as se¬
verely reprimanded by Charles as if he had been his own
subject.
The king remained but a few days at Otchakoff, when
the seraskier of Bender sent an aga to compliment him on
his arrival in the Turkish dominions, and to invite him to
that city. Here he was treated with hospitality. The is kindly
Turks practised to its full extent their generous maxim of received,
regarding as sacred the persons of unfortunate princes who
had taken shelter in their dominions; and they perhaps re"CQ^quering
garded him, notwithstanding his misfortunes, as an ally that Russia be-
might be useful to themselves against the Russians. Every gin to re-
one indeed regarded him in his distress. The French kingvive.
offered him a safe passage from the Levant to Marseilles,
from whence he might easily return to his own dominions.
But Charles was too obstinate to receive advice. Puffed
up with the notion of imitating Alexander the Great, he
disdained to return except at the head of a numerous army;
and he yet expected, by means of the Turks, to dethrone
his adversary the czar. Negociations for this purpose were
carried on in the Turkish divan, and it was proposed to
escort Charles with a numerous army to the frontiers of
Charles in- Soon after this victory, which was gained on the 12th of Poland; but the revolution which there took place put an
vades Sax- February 1706, Charles entered Saxony at the head of end to all such projects. Augustus thought himself no Augustus
Dny‘ 24,000 men. The diet at Ratisbon declared him an ene¬
my to the empire if he crossed the Oder. But to this de¬
claration no regard was paid: Charles pursued his march,
while Augustus was reduced to the condition of a vagrant
in Poland, where he possessed not a single town except
Cracow. Into this city he threw himself with a fewr Saxon,
Polish, and Russian regiments, and began to erect some
longer bound to observe the treaty which he had made, recovers
than when Charles was at hand to compel him. After ^pq.
battle of Pultava, he entered Poland, and took every mea-lani
sure, in concert with the czar, for the recovery of his king¬
dom. Stanislas was not able to encounter such enemies,
but was obliged to leave his dominions and fly to Bender,
in the disguise of a Swedish officer, in order to share the
SWEDEN.
855
History.
The Danes
invade
Sweden,
out are ut¬
terly de¬
feated.
The Turks
declare war
against the
Russians.
A.D. 1711.
fortune of Charles. It was not in Poland alone that the
Swedish affairs began to suffer in consequence of the defeat
at Pultava. The Danes invaded the province of Schonen
wdth an army of 13,000 foot and 2500 horse. Only 13,000
Swedish forces remained to defend all the territories pos¬
sessed by Charles in Germany, and of these only a small
part was allotted for the defence of Schonen. The re¬
gency of Sweden, however, exerted themselves to the ut¬
most to repel this ungenerous invasion; and having col¬
lected an army of 12,000 militia and 8000 regulars, de¬
spatched them under General Steenboek into Schonen.
Some Saxon troops were incorporated in this army; but
among these a prodigious desertion took place, which the
general found it impossible to prevent; and thus the Danes
gained several advantages, and at last took Christianstadt.
Their insolence on this success was so great that the
Swedes demanded to be instantly led against them. Here
the good fortune of Sweden seemed once more to revive.
The Danes were driven from a very strong situation, with
the loss of 8000 killed and taken prisoners, besides a vast
number wounded. The king received the intelligence of
this victory with the greatest exultation, and could not help
exclaiming, “ My brave Swedes, should it please God that
I once more join you, we shall conquer them all.”
In the mean time, Charles, by means of his agents
the count Poniatoffski and Neugebar, used his utmost ef¬
forts to procure a rupture between the Porte and Russia.
For a long interval the money bestowed by Peter on the
vizirs and janisaries prevailed; but at last the grand sig-
nior, influenced by his mother, who was strongly in the
interest of Charles, and had been used to call him her
lion, determined to support his quarrel with Peter. He
therefore gave orders to the vizir to fall on the Russians
with an army of 200,000 men. The vizir promised obe¬
dience, but at the same time professed his ignorance in the
art of war, and dislike to the present expedition. The khan
of Crim Tartary, who had been gained over by the repu¬
tation and presents of the king of Sweden, had orders to
take the field with 40,000 of his men, and had the liberty
of assembling his army at Bender, that Charles might
see that the war was undertaken on his account. See Rus¬
sia.
The treaty of the Pruth was most violently opposed by
Poniatoffski and the khan of Tartary. The former had
made the king acquainted with the situation of both armies;
on which he instantly set out from Bender, filled with the
hopes of fighting the Russians, and taking ample vengeance.
Having ridden fifty leagues post, he arrived at the camp
just as the czar was drawing off his half-famished troops.
He alighted at Poniatoffski’s tent; and being informed of
particulars, instantly flew in a rage to the vizir, whom he
loaded with reproaches, and accused of treachery. Recol¬
lecting himself, however, he proposed a method by which
the fault might be remedied ; but finding his proposal re¬
jected, he posted back to Bender, after having by the grossest
insults showed his contempt of the vizir.
The violent behaviour of Charles did not promote his in¬
terest. The vizir perceived that his stay in Turkey might
prove fatal to himself, and he therefore determined to re-
The grand move him as soon as possible. Succeeding vizirs adopted
signior de- the same plan ; and at last the grand signior himself wrote
sues him to a ietter to Charles, in which he desired him to depart by
' next winter, promising to supply him with a sufficient guard,
with money, and every thing else necessary for his journey.
Charles gave an evasive answer, and determined to procras¬
tinate his journey, as well to gratify his own stubborn tem¬
per, as because he discovered a correspondence between
Augustus and the khan of Tartary, the object of which, he
had reason to believe, was to betray him to the Saxons.
When he was again pressed to fix the day of his departure,
he replied, that he could not think of going before his debts
were paid. Being asked how much was necessary for this History,
purpose, he replied, a thousand purses. A purse, it is to be
remarked, consists of thirty sequins. Twelve hundred
purses were instantly sent to the seraskier at Bender, with haviour of
orders to deliver them to the king of Sweden, but not be- Charles,
fore he should have begun his journey. By fair promises,
Charles persuaded him to part with the money; after which,
instead of setting out, he squandered away his treasure in
presents and gratifications, and then demanded a thousand
purses more before he would set out. The seraskier was
astonished at this behaviour. He shed tears; and turning
to the king told him that his head would be the forfeit of
having obliged him with the money. The grand signior,
on being acquainted with the shameful behaviour of Charles,
flew into a rage, and called an extraordinary divan, where he
himself spoke ; a practice very unusual for the Turkish mo-
narchs. It was unanimously agreed that such a troublesome
guest ought to be removed by force, should other means fail.
Positive orders were therefore sent to Charles to depart; and, The Turks
in case of his refusal, instructions were given for attacking resolve to
him in his quarters. Nothing could equal his obstinacy on *or<;e
this occasion : in spite of the menaces of his enemies, in spitet0 ePar *
of the entreaties of his friends, he persisted in his resolu¬
tion ; and at last determined to resist, with 300 Swedes, be- His despe-
ing the entire number of his attendants, an army of 20,000 rate resolu-
janisaries well armed and furnished with cannon. At length ^l011 to re‘
he was attacked in good earnest; though it must be owned,S1S ‘
that even in this extremity, the Turks showed their regard
to him, and were tender of his safety. Most of the Swedes
surrendered at once, perhaps as thinking it the only method
of saving the king’s life. This conduct, however, had an op¬
posite effect. Charles became the more obstinate, the more
desperate his affairs seemed to be. With only forty menial Is abandon-
servants, and the generals Hord and Dardorff, he deter- ed by all
mined to defend himself to the last extremity. Seeing his*113 loho'v-
soldiers lay down their arms, he told the generals, “ We£^t®xcept
must now defend the house. Come,” added he with a smile,
“ let us fight pro aris etfocis.” The house had been already
forced by the Tartars, all but a hall which was near the
door, and where his domestics had assembled. Charles
forced his way through the janisaries, attended by the ge¬
nerals Hord and Dardorff, joined his people, and then bar¬
ricaded the door. The moment he entered, the enemy
who were in the house threw down their booty, and en¬
deavoured to escape at the windows. Charles pursued
them from room to room with much bloodshed, and cleared
the house in a few minutes. He then fired furiously from Fights like
the windows, killed two hundred of the Turks in a quarter a madman,
of an hour, so that the pacha who commanded them was hut is taken
at length forced to set the house on fire. This was effected ^
by discharging arrows with lighted matches into the roof; f0i]0wers.
but Charles, instead of quitting his post, gave orders for
extinguishing the fire, and he himself assisted with great
diligence. All efforts were however vain : the roof fell in,
and Charles, with his few faithful companions, was ready
to be buried in the ruins. In this extremity one called out
that there w'as a necessity for surrendering. “ What a
strange fellow!” cries the king, “ who would rather be a
prisoner with the Turks than mix his ashes with those of
his sovereign.” Another had the presence of mind to cry
out, that the chancery was but fifty paces off, had a stone
roof, and was proof against fire. Pleased with the thoughts
of again coming to blows, the king exclaimed, “ A true
Swede! Let us take all the powder and bail we can carry.”
He then put himself at the head of his troops, and sallied out
with such impetuosity, that the Turks retreated fifty paces ;
but having fallen in the midst of his fury, they rushed upon
him, and carried him by the legs and arms to the pacha’s tent.
This extraordinary adventure, which savours not a little of
insanity, happened on the 12th of February 1713. He was
now kept prisoner with all his retinue ; and in this situation
856
SWEDEN.
Begins to
think of
returning
to his do¬
minions.
History, he was visited by the unfortunate Stanislas, the dethroned
Charles seemed at last inclined to submit to his fate, and
began seriously to think of returning to his kingdom, now
reduced to the most deplorable situation. His habitation
had been fixed at Demotica, a small town about six leagues
from Adrianople. Here be was allowed provisions for his
own table and those of his retinue; but only twenty-five
crowns a day in money, instead of five hundred which he
had received at Bender. During his residence here, he
received a deputation from Hesse-Cassel, soliciting his con¬
sent to the marriage of the landgrave with Eleonora, princess
royal of Sweden ; to which he readily agreed. A deputa¬
tion was also sent him by the regency of Sweden, request¬
ing that he would prepare for returning to his own domi¬
nions, which, in his absence, were ready to sink under a
ruinous war. r o
Setsoutfor On the 14th of October 1714, Charles set out for bwe-
Sweden. fien. All the princes through whose territories he was to
a. n. 17H g had given orders for his entertainment in the most
magnificent manner; but the king, perceiving that these
compliments only rendered his imprisonment and other
misfortunes more conspicuous, suddenly dismissed his Turk¬
ish attendants, and assembling his own people, bid them
take no care about him, but make the best of their way to
Stralsund. After this he set out post, in the habit of a
German officer, attended only by Colonel During. Keep¬
ing the by-roads through Hungary, Moravia, Austria, Ba¬
varia, Wirtemberg, the Palatinate, Westphalia, and Meck¬
lenburg, he arrived on the 21st of November at midnight
before the gates of Stralsund. Being unknown, he was ad¬
mitted with difficulty; but being soon recognised by the
governor, the greatest tokens of joy were manifested all over
the town.
Distressed Sweden was now in the greatest distress. On the news
situation of of the defeat at Pultava, the Danes had invaded Schonen,
Sweden. but were defeated by General Steenboek. This victory
did not, however, put an end to the war. The kings of
Denmark and Poland, with the czar of Russia, entered in¬
to stricter bonds of amity than ever. They dreaded the
return of Charles to his own dominions, and apprehended
that numberless victories would soon efface the remem¬
brance of Pultava. They determined to make the best use
of their time; and perhaps Charles never took a more im¬
prudent resolution than obstinately to remain so long in the
Turkish dominions. His return seemed to give new hte to
the whole nation. Though the number of inhabitants was
visibly diminished, the levies which he had ordered were
completed in a few weeks ; but the husbandmen left to cul¬
tivate the earth consisted of the infirm, aged, and decrepid ;
so that a famine was threatened in consequence of the mi¬
litary rage which had seized all the youth of the kingdom.
The kine is The presence of Charles did not now produce those con-
unable to sequences which the allies had feared. The mg om w as
retrieve the j00 much reduced to furnish the necessary supplies or men
SIvedish and money; and though the king’s courage and military
* niriVi5 skill were not in the least diminished, the efforts which he
* made, instead of restoring Sweden to its splendour, serv¬
ed more completely to ruin it. In 1715, Prussia declared
against him, on account of his demanding back the town o
Stettin, which that monarch had seized. To complete his
embarrassment, the elector of Hanover, George 1. o n-
Ts encom- tain, also became his enemy. The forces of Denmark,
passed on Prussia, Saxony, and Hanover joined to invest W ismar,
all sides by wiliie a bo{jy 0f 36,000 men formed the siege of Stralsund ;
enemies. and afc the same time the czar> with a fleet of twenty large
ships of war, and 150 transports, carrying 30,000 men,
threw every part of the Swedish coast into the greatest con¬
sternation. The heroism of Charles could not prevail
against so many enemies; yet he was still so much dread¬
ed, that the prince of Anhalt, with 12,000 brave troops, did
not think himself a match for this furious enemy when at History,
the head of only 2000, till he had intrenched his army be;
hind a ditch, defended by chevaux de fnse. It appeared,"1®
indeed, that this precaution was not unnecessary; for in
the night Charles with his men clambered up the ditch, and
attacked the enemy in his usual manner. Numbers, how¬
ever, at last prevailed, and Charles was obliged to retire,
after having seen his favourite Grothusen, General Dardoff,
and During, the companions of his exile, killed by his side,
he himself being wounded in the breast.
This rash attempt was made in order to save Rugen, Stralsund
whence the town of Stralsund was supplied with provisions, besieged,
The place was well fortified, and garrisoned with 9000
men with Charles himself at their head ; but nothing could
resist the efforts of the enemy. By the 17th of December
it was proposed to give the assault. T. he attack on the
horn-work was desperate ; the enemy was twice repulsed ;
but at last, by dint of numbers, effected a lodgment. The
next day, Charles headed a sally, in which he dealt terrible
destruction among the besiegers, but was at length over¬
powered and obliged to retreat into the town. At last his
officers, apprehending that he must either fall into the hands
of the enemy, or be buried in the ruins of the place, en¬
treated him to retire. A retreat, however, was now al-and taken,
most as dangerous as to remain in the town, on account ofm spite of
the fleets of the enemy with which the sea was covered
and it is thought that this very circumstance induced thethe king
king to consent to it. Embarking in a small boat with sails
and oars, he passed all the enemy’s ships and batteries, and
arrived safe at Ystedt in Schonen.
To revenue himself for these losses, Charles invaded Charles in-
Norway with an army of 25,000 men. The Danes werevades Nor-
everywhere defeated and pursued with that vigour for which w >•
the king of Sweden was so remarkable ; but strong rein¬
forcements arriving from Denmark, and provisions tailing,
he was at last obliged to retire. Soon after this the Swedes A treaty
lost Wismar ; but when every thing seemed hopeless, Baron with the
Goertz, the chief minister and favourite of Charles, contriv-
ed to make overtures for a treaty with the czar of Russia, projected>
by which the most formidable of all Charles s enemies was
taken off. The minister found means to work on the in¬
flexible temper of Charles, by representing to him that the
cession of certain provinces to Peter would induce him to
assist him in his projects of again dethroning Augustus, and
of replacing James on the throne of Britain; which last
scheme he had projected out of revenge for the elector of
Hanover having seized on the duchies of Bremen and Ver-
den. In consequence of the conferences between the czar
and Goertz, the former engaged to send into Poland an
army of 80,000 men, in order to dethrone that prince whom
he had so long defended. He also engaged to furnish ships
for transporting 30,000 Swedes to Germany, and 10,000
into Denmark. This treaty was not however ratified, and
the death of Charles put a final stop to all the great pros¬
pects of Sweden. , „ . .
The king had resolved on the conquest of Norway be-Charles in-
fore he dethroned Augustus ; and as no difficulties evei e- va 69
terred him, he marched his army into that cold and barren
country in the month of October, when the ground was
covered with frost and snow. With 18,000 men he formed
the siege of Frederickshall, though the severity of the frost
rendered it almost impossible to break ground. He resolv¬
ed to form trenches; and his soldiers cheerfully obeje ,
digging into the ground with the same labour as if they ha
been piercing a rock. On the 11th of December the king His death,
visited the trenches in the midst of a terrible fire from the
enemy, imagining that his men might be animated by his
presence. He took his post in the most dangerous station
that he could select, standing on a gabion and leaning with
his arm over the parapet, while the enemy were firing chain
shot at the very spot where he stood. He was entreated to
SWEDEN.
857
History, change his station, but he remained obstinate. At last he
v was seen to fall mortally wounded, but whether by the enemy
or by an assassin has been much disputed, and will probably
ever remain matter of doubt. He soon afterwards expired.
Account of Charles XII. was succeeded by his sister the princess
Ulrica Eleonora, wife to the hereditary prince of Hesse.
Oo this occasion the states took care to make a previous
death of stipulation for the preservation of their liberties, and oblig-
Charles ed the princess, before entering on the government, to sign
XII. to the a document to this effect. Their first care was to make
year 1771. peace with Great Britain, which the late king intended to
have invaded. In order to prevent their further losses by
the progress of the Russian, the Danish, the Saxon, and
other arms, the Swedes made many great sacrifices to ob¬
tain peace from these powers. The French, however, about
the year 1738, formed a dangerous party in the kingdom,
which not only broke its internal quiet, but led it into a
ruinous war with Russia, by which it lost the province of
Finland. Their Swedish majesties having no children, it
was necessary to settle the succession; especially as the
duke of Holstein was descended from the queen’s eldest
sister, and was, at the same time, the presumptive heir to
the empire of Russia. Four competitors appeared ; the
duke of Holstein Gottorp, Prince Frederic of Hesse-Cassel,
nephew to the king, the prince of Denmark, and the duke
of Deux-Ponts. The duke of Holstein would have carried
the election, had he not embraced the Greek religion that
he might mount the throne of Russia. The czarina inter¬
posed, and offered to restore all the conquests she had
made from Sweden, excepting a small district in Finland,
if the Swedes would receive the duke of Holstein’s uncle,
Adolphus Frederic, bishop of Litbeck, as their hereditary
prince and the successor to the crown. This was agreed
to; and a peace concluded at Abo, under the mediation of
his Britannic majesty. The peace was so firmly main¬
tained by the empress of Russia, that his Danish majesty
thought proper to drop all resentment for the indignity of¬
fered his son. The prince-successor married the princess
Ulrica, third sister to the king of Prussia; and in 1751 he
entered into the possession of his new dignity, which prov¬
ed to him a crown of thorns. The French had acquired
great influence in all the deliberations of the Swedish se¬
nate, who of late had been little better than pensioners to
that crown. The intrigues of the senators forced Adol¬
phus to take part in the war against Prussia; but as that
war was disagreeable, not only to the people, but also to
the king of Sweden, the nation never made so mean an ap¬
pearance ; and on Russia’s making peace with the king of
Prussia, the Swedes followed the example. Adolphus died
dispirited in 1771, after a turbulent reign of twenty years,
and was succeeded by his son Gustavus.
The most remarkable transaction of this reign is the revolu¬
tion which took place in the government in the year 1772, by
which the king, from being the most limited, became one of
the most despotic monarchs in Europe. Ever since the death
of Charles XII. the whole power of the kingdom had been
lodged in the states; and this power they had much abus¬
ed. Gustavus therefore determined either to seize on that
power of which they made such a bad use, or to perish in
Account of the attempt. The revolution was effected in the following
the revolu-manner. On the morning of the 19th of August 1772, a
ITT*?111) considerable number of officers, as well as other persons
which he known to be attached to the royal cause, had been sum-
became de-moned to attend his majesty. Before ten he was on horse-
•potic. back, and visited the regiment of artillery. As he passed
through the streets he was more than usually courteous to
all he met, bowing familiarly to the lowest of the people.
On the king’s return to his palace, the detachment which
was to mount guard that day being drawn up together with
that which was to be relieved, his majesty retired with the
officers into the guard-room. He then addressed them
YOL. XX.
Accession
qf Adol¬
phus Fre¬
derick.
A.D. 1751.
Gustavus
III. as¬
cends the
throne.
a.d. 1771.
with all that eloquence of which he is said to have been a History
master; and after insinuating to them that his life was in ''■“""Y""""''’
danger, he exposed to them in the strongest colours the
wretched state of the kingdom, the shackles in which it
was held by means of foreign gold, and the dissensions and
troubles arising from the same cause which had distracted
the diet during the course of fourteen months. He assured
them that his only design was to put an end to these dis¬
orders, to banish corruption, restore true liberty, and re¬
vive the ancient lustre of the Swedish name, which had
been long tarnished by a venality as notorious as it was
disgraceful. Then assuring them in the strongest terms
that he disclaimed for ever all absolute power, or what
the Swedes call sovereignty, he concluded with these words:
“ I am obliged to defend my own liberty and that of the
kingdom against the aristocracy, which reigns. Will you
be faithful to me, as your forefathers were to Gustavus
Vasa and Gustavus Adolphus ? I will then risk my life for
your welfare and that of my country.” The officers, most
of them young men, of whose attachment the king had
been long secure, and who did not perhaps perceive the
real tendency of his majesty’s request, were allowed no
time to reflect, immediately gave their assent, and took an
oath of fidehty to him. Only three refused. One of Resolution
these, Frederic Cederstrom, captain of a company of the of a Swe-
guards, alleged he had already, and very lately, taken an dish officer,
oath to be faithful to the states, and consequently could
not take that which his majesty then exacted. The king,
looking at him sternly, answered, “ Think of what you are
doing.’’ “ I do,” replied Cederstrom; “ and what I think
to-day I shall think to-morrow; and were I capable of
breaking the oath by which I am already bound to the
states, 1 should be likewise capable of breaking that which
your majesty now requires me to take.” The king having
then ordered Cederstiom to deliver up his sword, placed
him under arrest. His majesty, however, apprehensive of
the impression which his proper and resolute conduct
might make on the minds of the other officers, soon after¬
wards softened his tone; and again addressing himself to
Cederstrom, told him, that as a proof of the opinion which
he entertained of him, and the confidence which he placed
in him, he would return him his sword without insisting on
his taking the oath, and would only desire his attendance
that day. The undaunted captain continued firm; he an¬
swered, that his majesty could place no confidence in him,
and that he begged to be excused from the service.
While Gustavus was shut up with the officers, senator
Railing, to whom the command of the troops in the town
had been given two days before, came to the door of the
guard-room, and was told that he could not be admitted.
The senator insisted on being present at the distribution
of the orders, and sent to the king to desire it; but was
answered, he must go to the senate, where his majesty
would speak to him. The officers then received their or¬
ders from the king; the first of which was, that the two
regiments of guards and of artillery should be immediately
assembled, and that a detachment of thirty-six grenadiers
should be posted at the door of the council-chamber to
prevent any of the senators from coming out. But before
the orders could be carried into execution, it was necessary
that Gustavus should address himself to the soldiers; men
wholly unacquainted with his designs, and accustomed to
pay obedience only to the orders of the senate, whom they
had been taught to hold in the highest reverence. As his The king
majesty, followed by the officers, wras advancing from thegaingovtr
guard-room to the parade for this purpose, some of them, the sol-
more cautious, or perhaps more timid, than the rest, be- d*61,8,
came, on a short reflection, apprehensive of the conse¬
quences of the measure in which they were engaged : they
began to express their fears to the king, that unless some
person of greater weight and influence than themselves
o Q
858
SWEDEN.
and be
comes mas
ter of the
whole
power in
the king¬
dom.
History, were to take a part in the same cause, he could scarcely
hope to succeed in his enterprise. 1 he king stopped a
while, and appeared to hesitate. A serjeant of the guards
overheard their discourse, and cried aloud, “ It shall suc¬
ceed. Long live Gustavus!” His majesty immediately
said, “ Then I will ventureand stepping forward to the
soldiers, he addressed them in terms nearly similar to those
which he had employed to the officers, and with the same
success. They answered him with loud acclamations. One
voice only said, No 5 hut it excited no attention.
In the mean time some of the king’s emissaries had
spread a report about the town that his majesty was ar¬
rested. This drew the populace to the palace in great num¬
bers, where they arrived as he had concluded his harangue
to the guards. They testified by reiterated shouts their
joy at seeing him safe ; a joy which promised the happiest
Secures the conclusion to the business of the day. The senators were
senators, now immediately secured. They had from the window of
the council-chamber beheld what was going forward on the
parade before the palace ; and, at a loss to know the mean¬
ing of the shouts which they heard, were coming down to
inquire into the cause of them, when thirty grenadiers,
with their bayonets fixed, informed them it was his majesty s
pleasure they should continue where they were. They
began to speak in a high tone, but were only answered by
having the door shut and locked upon them. The moment
the secret committee heard that the senate was arrested,
they separated of themselves, each individual providing for
his own safety. The king then mounting his horse, fol¬
lowed by his officers with their swords drawn, a large body
of soldiers, and numbers of the populace, went to the other
quarters of the town where the soldiers whom he had or¬
dered to be assembled were posted. He found them all
equally willing to support his cause, and to take to him an
oath of fidelity. As he passed through the streets, he de¬
clared to the people, that he only meant to defend them,
and save his country ; and that if they would not confide in
him, he would lay down his sceptre, and surrender up his
kingdom. So much was the king beloved, that some of
the people even fell on their knees, and many more, with
tears in their eyes, implored his majesty not to abandon
them.
The king proceeded in his course, and in less than an
hour made himself master of all the military force in Stock¬
holm. In the mean time the heralds, by proclamation in
the several quarters of the city, summoned an assembly of
the states for the ensuing morning, and declared all mem¬
bers traitors to their country who should not appear.
Thither his majesty repaired in all the pomp of royalty, sur¬
rounded by his guards, and holding in his hand the silver
sceptre of Gustavus Adolphus. In a very forcible speech,
he lamented the unhappy state to which the country was
reduced by the conduct of a party ready to sacrifice every
thing to its ambition, and reproached the states with adapt¬
ing their actions to the views of foreign courts, from which
they received the wages of perfidy. “ If any one dare con¬
tradict this, let him rise and speak.” Conviction, or fear,
kept the assembly silent, and the secretary read the new
form of government, which the king submitted to the ap-
wmcu at- probation of the states. It consisted of fifty-seven articles;
cepts a new of which the five following were the chief. 1. The king
form of go-has the entire power of convoking and dissolving the as-
vernment. Sembly of the states as often as he thinks proper. 2. His
majesty alone has the command of the army, fleet, and
finances, and the disposal of all offices civil and military.
3. In case of an invasion, or of any pressing necessity, the
king may impose taxes, without waiting for the assembly
of the states. 4. The diet can deliberate on no other sub¬
jects than those proposed by the king. 5. The king shall
not carry on an offensive war without the consent of the
states. When all the articles were recited, the king de-
Summons
an assem¬
bly of the
states;
which ac-
manded if the states approved of them, and was answered History,
by a general acclamation. He then dismissed all the sena- 'y'—
tors from their employments, adding, that in a few days he
would appoint others; and concluded this extraordinary
scene by drawing out of his pocket a small psalm-book, from
which, after taking off the crown, he gave out Te Deum.
All the members very devoutly added their voices to his,
and the hall resounded with thanksgiving.
The power which he had thus obtained, he employed for The king
the good of his subjects. He took care that the law should makes a
be administered with impartiality to the richest noble and^o o
the poorest peasant, making a severe example of such judges
as were proved to have made justice venal. He gave par¬
ticular attention and encouragement to commerce; and
being himself a man of letters, was a liberal and enlightened
patron of literature and science. He strenuously laboured
to introduce into his kingdom the most valuable improve¬
ments in agriculture that had been made in foreign countries.
But while thus active in promoting the arts of peace, he Reforms
was not inattentive to the art of war,. The fleet, which he A16 army
found decayed and feeble, he in a few years restored to aan nav^‘
respectable footing; and, besides changing the regulations
of the navy, he raised a new corps of sailors, and formed
them to the service by continual exercise. The army,
which, like the navy, had been neglected during the aris¬
tocracy, was next to be reformed. The king began by
giving cloaks, tents, and new arms to all the regiments.
Afterwards, under the direction of Field-marshal Count de
Hessenstein, a new exercise was introduced, and several
camps were formed, in which the soldiery were manoeuvred
by the king himself. The sale of military offices, which
had been permitted for many years, was entirely suppressed;
and the king provided not only for the re-establishment of
discipline and good order in the army, but for the future
welfare of the individuals who composed it. These war¬
like preparations were necessary to a plan which he had
formed for entirely abolishing the power of the aristocracy,
and freeing Sweden from the factions which had long been
formed in it by the court of St Petersburg. The change
which he had introduced was very inimical to the intrigues
of that court; and the Russian ambassador exerted himself
openly to bring about a rupture between the king and the
discontented nobles. Gustavus ordered him to quit the
kingdom in eight days, and immediately prepared for war
with Russia. To this apparently rash enterprise he was in¬
cited by the Ottoman Porte, at that time unable to oppose
the armies of the two empires; and his own ambition, to¬
gether with the internal state of his kingdom, powerfully
concurred to make him lend every assistance to his ancient
ally. It is needless for us to enter into a detail of the par- His c.on-
ticulars of that war, the principal circumstances of which duct
have already been noticed under Russia. Suffice it to say,
that neither Gustavus Adolphus nor Charles XII. gave
greater proofs of undaunted courage and military conduct
in their long and bloody wars than were given by Gusta¬
vus III. from the end of the year 1787 to 1790, when peace
was restored between the courts of St Petersburg and
Stockholm. When the court of Copenhagen was compelled,
by the means of England and Prussia, to withdraw its
troops from the territories of Sweden, the king attacked
Russia with such vigour both by sea and land, displayed
such address in retrieving his affairs when apparently re¬
duced to the last extremity, and renewed his attacks with
such pertinacious courage, that the empress lowered the
haughtiness of her tone, and was glad to treat with Gusta¬
vus as an equal and independent sovereign.
Sweden now enjoyed peace; but the nobles continued A eonspirn-
discontented, and a conspiracy was planned against Gusta-
vus under his own roof. He had entered into the alliance life'
■    . - . - 'king’s life.
that was formed against the revolutionary government otA D. 1792.
France; and in order to raise an army, which he was to
SWEDE N.
859
History.
The king
dangerous¬
ly wound¬
ed.
Death of
Gustavus
III.
A. D. 1792.
Accession
of Gusta¬
vus IV,
lead in person, to co-operate with the emperor and the king
of Prussia, he was obliged to negociate large loans, and to
impose on his subjects heavy taxes. The nobles took ad¬
vantage of that circumstance to prejudice the minds of
many of the people against the sovereign who had laboured
so long for their good. On the 16th of March 1792 he
received an anonymous letter, warning him of his imme¬
diate danger from a plot that was laid to take away his life ;
requesting him to remain at home, and avoid balls for a
year; and assuring him that, if he should go to the masque¬
rade for which he was preparing, he would be assassinated
that very night. The king read the note with contempt,
and at a late hour entered the ball-room. After some time,
he sat down in a box with Count d’Essen, and observ¬
ed that he was not deceived in his contempt for the letter,
since, had there been any design against his life, no time
could be more favourable than that moment. He then
mingled, without apprehension, among the crowd; and just
as he was preparing to retire in company with the Prussian
ambassador, he was surrounded by several persons in masks,
one of whom fired a pistol at the back of the king, and
lodged the contents in his body- A scene of dreadful con¬
fusion immediately ensued. The conspirators, amidst the
general tumult and alarm, had time to retire to other parts
of the room; but one of them had previously dropped his
pistols and a dagger close by the wounded king. A ge¬
neral order was given to all the company to unmask, and
the doors were immediately closed; but no person appeared
with any particular distinguishing marks of guilt. The king
was immediately conveyed to his apartment; and the sur¬
geon, after extracting a ball and some slugs, gave favour¬
able hopes of his recovery. But the prognostication of his
medical attendants soon appeared to be fallacious, and on
the 28th of March a mortification was found to have taken
place. He expired on the following day; and on opening
his body there were found within the ribs a square piece of
lead and two rusty nails.
The king had by his will appointed a council of regency ;
but convinced by recent experience how little dependence
was to be placed on the attachment of his nobles, and aware
of the necessity of a vigorous government in times of such
difficulty and danger, he appointed his brother, the duke of
Sudermania, sole regent, till his son, then a minor, should
attain the age of eighteen years. In his dying moments
he desired that all the conspirators, except the perpetrator
of his murder, might be pardoned.
The young king, who was about fourteen at his father's
death, was proclaimed by the name of Gustavus IV. The
regent soon took the most vigorous and active measures to
apprehend and punish the projectors and perpetrators of
the murder of his brother. A nobleman of the name of
Ankarstrom confessed himself the assassin, and gloried in
the action, which he called liberating his country from a
monster and a tyrant. He was executed in a most cruel
manner on the 17th of May. Other two noblemen, and
two officers, also suffered death ; but the rest of the conspi¬
rators were either pardoned, or punished only by fine and
imprisonment.
From the accession of Gustavus IV. till the revolution
which has been recently effected in Sweden, few transac¬
tions of any importance have occurred. Soon after the
king had assumed the administration of affairs, he engaged
warmly in the war against France, and till the time of his
deposition continued a most faithful ally of Britain. The
efforts of the Swedish monarch towards humbling the power
of Bonaparte have been already noticed under the articles
Britain and France ; and the war with Russia, in which
his alliance with Britain had involved him, has been suffi¬
ciently touched in the article Russia. This prince seems
to have been endowed with amiable qualities; but he was
certainly rash and imprudent, and perhaps in some degree
tinctured with insanity. He thus materially injured his History,
kingdom, and alienated the affections of his principal nobles, s'—"'v'"'*''
especially of his uncle the duke of Sudermania.
In the beginning of March 1809, the plan which appears Revolution
to have been concerted between the duke of Sudermania in favour of
and the principal nobility was carried into effect. The^dukeof
king was arrested; the duke assumed the reins of govern- nja
ment, and issued a proclamation, announcing that, under A- D< 1809.
existing circumstances, the king was incapable of conduct¬
ing the affairs of the nation. Gustavus, now in close cus¬
tody, was easily prevailed upon to abdicate the government.
The diet was assembled; the duke of Sudermania was de¬
clared king of Sweden, under the title of Charles XIII.;
Prince Augustenberg was chosen crown prince; and vari¬
ous changes were introduced into the constitution, confirm¬
ing the powers of the diet, and removing what the prevail¬
ing party held to be encroachments of the crown during
the late and preceding reigns. The people, wearied or dis¬
gusted by the late king’s folly and rashness, readily acqui¬
esced in all the alterations. Peace was then made with
Russia ; a measure which had become absolutely necessary,
as the military force of the kingdom was completely broken,
and no means were left for checking the progress of the
enemy. By this peace Sweden lost Finland, a country of
peculiar importance to her, on account of the supplies of
grain which she was accustomed to draw from it; but in
the treaty she reserved the right of yearly importing a cer¬
tain quantity of grain, duty free. Swedish Finland, with
Lapmark, now annexed to Russia, was estimated to contain
about 120,000 square English miles, with 895,000 inhabi¬
tants. On the 6th of January 1810, peace was also con¬
cluded with France, which restored Pomerania.
Sweden was now enjoying tranquillity, when the sudden
and unexpected death of the crown prince Augustenberg,
in April 1810, became a new source of perplexity. The
duke of Sudermania was old and in a feeble state of health ;
and as there was no person within the kingdom who had
any title by blood to the throne, it was necessary, for the
security of the new order of things, to choose a successor.
The threatening position which the acquisition of Finland
gave to Russia induced the noblemen who in concert with
the court took a lead in this business, to look for some man
of military talents. It happened that Bernadotte, prince of
Ponte Corvo, who had lately commanded in the north of
Germany, had, by his liberal and kind treatment, gained
the peculiar esteem of the Swedish officers and soldiers
whom he had made prisoners in Gustavus’s ill-concerted
operations in Pomerania. He was besides highly respected
for his military skill; and had been still further raised in
general estimation, in consequence of Napoleon having re¬
moved him from his command for his lenity and humanity
in the exercise of his power. Some of the Swedish officers,
to whom his character was known, first conceived the idea
of offering him the succession to the crown. The scheme
was for some time kept as secret as possible; but it receiv¬
ed so much countenance from the most considerable men,
that it was at length opened to Bernadotte himself at Paris.
He received it as might be expected, and his friends re¬
doubled their intrigues. The prince of Denmark had been
proposed, but the ancient enmity against that country was
an invincible obstacle to his success. At length, when
every thing was prepared, the diet was called, and Berna¬
dotte was with acclamation elected crown prince by all the
four orders, on the 21st of July. Of all the changes in the
fortune and station of individuals which arose out of the
French revolution, this is perhaps the most singular. Bo¬
naparte seized the royal power and dignity for himself, and
by force of arms he compelled some of the weaker states
to accept his relations and followers as kings. But it does
not appear that he was ever consulted as to Bernadette’s
elevation, or had the smallest influence in it, except that
860
SWEDEN.
History, the example given in his own person and that of his fol-
lowers had contributed to destroy some of the old illusions
as to birth and hereditary honours, and had prepared men s
minds for great innovations. It was thus that a frenchman
who began his career as a common soldier, was raised to
the Swedish throne by the spontaneous choice of a body of
nobles, proud of their birth and ancestry.
The appearance of Bernadotte in the Swedish capital was
followed by numerous feasts and spectacles. He received
congratulations from all the public bodies ; and though not
immediately called to the throne, was, from the king’s infir¬
mities, intrusted with the entire conduct of the government.
One of his first acts was to recommend to the diet the in¬
troduction of a conscription law like that of France, a mea¬
sure which certainly hazarded his popularity. It was how¬
ever adopted ; and on this occasion he prevailed with the
nobles to make a voluntary surrender of their ancient pri¬
vilege of exemption from military service, as well as from
taxation. Pressed by France and Russia, Sweden, in No¬
vember 1810, professed her adherence to the continental
system, and declared war against Britain. The war how¬
ever was only nominal, and the British cruisers returned, in
most cases, their captures untouched. This state of things
continued till Bonaparte was preparing for his great Rus¬
sian campaign, when the Swedish government, solicited by
both parties, and tempted by great offers, at length signed
treaties of alliance with Russia and Britain in 1812 and
1813. By these treaties, the two powers mentioned en¬
gaged to assist the king in conquering Norway from Den-
mark. The French, for the purpose of intimidation, had
previously seized Pomerania. Bernadotte carried over an
army of 30,000 Swedes to Germany in 1813 ; and being
joined by several large bodies of Prussian and German
troops, he was encountered by Marshal Ney between Ber¬
lin and Leipzig on the 6th September, and, after an obsti¬
nate engagement, drove back the French army with the
loss of 16,000 men. In the battle of Leipzig, fought on
the 18th October, he likewise bore a conspicuous share.
After the victory, he continued to act against Marshal Da-
voust’s corps, and against the Danes, till he reduced the
latter to the necessity of capitulating. He lost no time in
improving this advantage ", and by a treaty concluded at
Kiel on the 14th January 1814, compelled Denmark to
cede Norway, on surrendering to her the possession of
Pomerania, and thus securing a great advantage by the
exchange of territory. He now advanced to the Rhine ;
but, satisfied with reducing Napoleon’s power, and, from
views of interest, most probably adverse to ruining him, he
was thought to be rather dilatory in improving his advan¬
tages. The success of the allies at length left him at lib¬
erty to secure Norway, the prize for which he had fought.
As the Norwegians announced their intention of resisting,
he crossed the frontier with an army in July, and, by judi¬
cious manoeuvres, which placed the Norwegian force in his
power, he obliged them to capitulate, and obtained posses¬
sion of the country almost without bloodshed ; Norway Pre*
serving its ancient constitution, and having states of its
own. On the death of Charles XIII. in 1818, Bernadotte
ascended the throne as Charles XIV., and was crowned at
Stockholm and Drontheim. The subsequent history of
Sweden presents few points of special interest. It has been
characterized by a rapid and steady advance in prosperity,
as will be seen from our account of the present state of the
country. Bernadotte and his successors have devoted them¬
selves to the establishment of peace and order among the
people, and to the development of the industrial resources
of the country, and their labours have been crowned with
success. Commerce and the arts and manufactures have
made rapid progress, and a very marked change has taken
place in the moral and social condition of the people.
Charles XIV. died in 1844, in the eightieth year of
his age, and was succeeded by his son Oscar I. The Statistics,
present monarch, Charles XV., succeeded his father Oscar
in 1859.
Kings and Queens of Sweden.
AC.
1129.
1155.
1162.
1168.
1192.
1210.
1220.
1223.
1251.
1279.
1290.
1320.
1363.
1389.
Swerker I.
Eric X.
Charles VII.
Canute.
Swerker II.
Eric XI.
John I.
Eric XII.
Waldetnar.
Magnus I.
Berger II.
Magnus II.
Albert.
Margaret.
A.D.
1415.
1442.
1448.
1483.
1520.
1523.
1560.
1568.
1590.
1604.
1611.
1633.
1654.
Eric XIII.
Christopher III.
Charles VIII.
John II.
Christiern II.
Gustavus Vasa.
Eric XIV.
John III.
Sigismund.
Charles IX.
Gustavus Adol¬
phus.
Christina.
Charles X.
STATISTICS.
AD.
1660.
1697.
1719.
1751.
1771.
1792.
1809.
1818.
1844.
1859.
Charles XI.
Charles XII.
Ulrica Eleonora
and Frederick
(of Hesse).
Adolphus Fre¬
derick.
Gustavus III.
Gustavus IV.
Charles XIII.
Charles XIV.
Oscar.
Charles XV.
(j. F. s.)
Sweden occupies the eastern and larger portion of that Boundaries,
part of Northern Europe known as the Scandinavian penin¬
sula. It is bounded on the N.E. by Russia, from which it
is separated by the rivers Tornea, Muonia, and Kongama ;
on the N.W. and W. by Norway, the range of mountains
and tablelands, which form the watershed of the peninsula,
being, for the most part, the boundary between the two
countries; on the S.W. by the Cattegat and Sound, sepa¬
rating it from Denmark, the former from Jutland, the latter
from the Island of Zealand ; on the S.E. by the Baltic ; and
on the E. by the Gulf of Bothnia. Sweden is thus chiefly
bounded by water, and has a coast-line, exclusive of inden¬
tations, of more than 1400 miles. Its coasts are indented Coasts,
with numerous bays and inlets, and skirted by an immense
number of islands. They are generally of moderate eleva¬
tion and rocky ; but they are sometimes low and sandy,
particularly in the north. Connected with the coast of
Sweden, it is deserving of notice, that in many parts a
gradual elevation of the land has been observed to be
taking place. This was remarked by Celsius so early as
the beginning of the last century, and attributed by him
to a gradual subsiding of the waters of the Baltic. Von
Buch, during his travels in Scandinavia, in the early part
of the present century, found at several points on the
Norwegian coast, above the sea level, marine shells of spe¬
cies still existing in the neighbouring sea; and from this,
and information obtained from the inhabitants, he was led
to believe that Celsius was correct in averring, that a gra¬
dual change was taking place in the relative level of the
land and water; but he concluded that it was occasioned
by the rising of the land, and not by the subsiding of the
waters. This view has since been confirmed by Sir Charles
Lyell, who, in 1834, found the marks made on the rocks at
water-level, fourteen years before under the direction of the
Royal Academy of Sweden, to be then in some parts four
or five inches above it. The rise has taken place princi¬
pally in the north ; at Stockholm, it was very slight; and in
the south of Scania it was imperceptible.
Sweden is about 900 miles in length from north to south, Surface,
and is in general from 150 to 200 miles in breadth ; lying
between 55. 20., and 69. 10. N. Lat.; and 11. 15. and 24.
E. Long. As compared with Norway, its surface is tame
and uninteresting. In general, it rises gradually from the
sea to the highlands on the borders of Norway. In the
north, where these highlands are most elevated, the slopes
are usually steep and irregular; in the central region, they
form extensive plateaux; while in the south, where the
highlands are of slight elevation, or altogether cease, the
country is mostly flat, with here and there low ranges of
hills. In the north, the surface is diversified with moun¬
tains, glens, and deep valleys, whereas, in the south, it con-
SWEDEN. 861
Statistics, sists mostly of vast sandy plains interspersed with numer-
ous lakes.
Rivers. Sweden is extremely well-watered by numerous rivers
and lakes. From the nature of the country, however, the
rivers are generally of small size, and not suited for navi¬
gation. The longest are in the north, rising in the Kiolen
Mountains, flowing generally from north-west to south-east,
and falling into the Gulf of Bothnia. The principal of
these, beginning with the most northern, are the Tornea,
Calix, Lulea, Pitea, Skelleftea, Windel, Umea, Angerman,
Indals, Ljusne, and Dal. None of these much exceed 300
miles in length, and with the exception of the Angerman
are not navigable for any distance from their mouths. Seve¬
ral of them traverse, or have their sources in considerable
lakes; and form in their course beautiful falls and cataracts.
Few of the rivers of Southern Sweden are of any consider¬
able size, and notwithstanding the generally flat nature of
the country through which they flow, they are little suited
for navigation, being impeded by rocks and rapids, and sub¬
ject to frequent inundations. There are numerous mine¬
ral springs in the country, and some of the watering-places,
as Medewi, Ramlbsa, Loka, &c., are much frequented.
Lakes. The lakes of Sweden are very numerous, and some of
them are of great size. The Wener, which, after the Ladoga
and Onega, is the largest lake in Europe, has a length of
about 90 miles, and a breadth, where widest, of about 56.
The Wetter is 82 miles in length by 16 in extreme
breadth. The Malar Lake extends westward from Stock¬
holm, and is nearly 70 miles in length by from 2 to 20 in
breadth. The Heilmar Lake, which lies to the S.W. of
Lake Malar, with which it is connected by a canal, is 35
miles in length by 15 in extreme width. In the north, the
lakes are usually long and narrow, some of them being 40
or 50 miles long by 4 or 5 wide.
Geology. The geological structure of Sweden is very simple, and
the formations lew. Granite and gneiss are the prevailing
rocks, especially the former, gneiss being less common here
than in Norway. It is, however, very rich in mineral pro¬
ducts, the most important of which are iron, copper, cobalt,
zinc, lead, antimony, gold, silver, alum, nitre, and sulphur.
Iron and copper, the two most important of these, will be
afterwards more particularly noticed in treating of the mines
of the country. Porphyry, marble, alabaster, limestone,
millstone, potter’s earth, &c., are also found. Coal has
been found in the south near Helsingborg, but only to a
small extent, and of very inferior quality.
Climate. The climate of Sweden, from the great extent of the
country, of course, varies considerably ; but it is upon the
whole much milder than might be expected from its high
latitude. As compared with Norway, its mean annual tem¬
perature is about 2° less; but, being protected on all sides
from the extreme cold of the arctic regions, its winters are
5° warmer, while its summers are 1° colder. Thus, at
Stockholm, the mean annual temperature is 42°; winter,
25°; summer, 62°. The atmosphere is remarkably dry
and clear, and is in this respect a striking contrast to that of
Norway ; the fall of rain at Stockholm being only 17£
inches per annum. At Stockholm, the longest day is 18£
hours ; the shortest nearly 6 hours in length. In the north,
the whole surface of the country is covered with snow and
ice for five or six months in the year; in the central parts,
winter seldom lasts more than three or four months ; and,
in the south, the climate is very similar to that of northern
Germany. In the north, about N. Lat. 71°, the limit of
perpetual snow is 2300 feet above the level of the sea;
at N. Lat. 64°, it is 4650 feet; at N. Lat. 62°, 5100 feet;
and at N. Lat. 60°, 5600 feet. The transition from winter
to summer is usually rapid, especially in the north, where
it often takes place within the space of a few days.
Forests. The forests of Sweden are extensive, covering about two-
sevenths of its entire area. The varieties of timber, how¬
ever, are few. In the north the pine, birch, and fir are the Statistics,
principal trees ; in the central parts, the ash, alder, willow,
and maple are also common ; and in the south, the oak,
beech, elm, and lime are met with. In the plain of Scania,
the mulberry, chestnut, pear, apple, and walnut trees
flourish. Till lately the forests of Sweden were very much
neglected, but now more attention is bestowed upon them,
and timber constitutes one of the most important articles of
export. They likewise furnish almost the sole article of
fuel used in the country.
Agriculture, though little favoured by either soil or cli- Agricul-
mate, has lately been making rapid advances. The im- ture.
provements, however, are as yet chiefly confined to gentle¬
men possessed of large estates; the peasant farmers still
mostly adhere to the old system. In consequence of the
uncertainty of the climate, there are on an average of seven
years only three years of good crops, three of indifferent
crops, and one of entire failure. In the north scarcely one
crop out of three succeeds. It is estimated that only ^th
part of the entire area of the country is arable. The most
fertile tracts lie north of Lake Wener, between Lake
Wetter and the Baltic, and in the plain of Scania. In con¬
sequence of the improved state of agriculture, and of the
increased growth of the potatoe, not only is the annual pro¬
duce of grain equal to the consumption, but generally there
is a considerable surplus for exportation. In 1858 the
quantity of grain exported (principally oats and barley) was
546,700 imperial quarters. In 1822 the quantity of grain
produced was 5,867,570 tons; in 1847, 8,398,451; in
1850, 8,791,950; and, in 1858, about 11,000,000 tons.
Of potatoes, the quantity produced in 1822 was 2,374,205
tons; in 1847, 5,328,503; in 1850, 4,890,311; and, in
1858, about 7,000,000 tons. The principal crops are rye,
barley, oats, wheat, potatoes, peas, hemp, flax, &c. In the
north, in consequence of the short summer, almost the only
grain crop raised is barley, which is sown and reaped in
seven or eight weeks. It is grown as far north as 69°.
Rye cannot be grown with advantage north of 66°, and
oats do not ripen north of 64°. Wheat does not, in general,
succeed north of 62°. The cultivation of the potatoe is
very general in all parts of the country, and in the north
this root supplies the deficiency of corn. From the poverty
of the soil, and the short duration of the summer, agricul¬
tural operations, especially during harvest, require the labour
of a great number of persons, for whom, during the long
winter, there is little or no employment. This must ever
form a great obstacle to agricultural improvement, espe¬
cially in the northern districts.
The length of the winter is also unfavourable to the Cattle,
keeping of cattle, for though there are considerable tracts
of good meadows, yet, as the cattle require to be housed
from four to six, or seven months in the year, their number
is very limited. The horses and horned cattle are small;
but the former are active and spirited, and the latter afford
excellent milk and beef. The sheep are generally of an
inferior kind, but great pains have been taken to improve
them by crosses with the French, English, and Spanish
breeds. Towards N. lat. 63°, sheep disappear, and are super¬
seded by goats, which are most numerous in the woodland
districts of Dalarne and Nordland. In Lapland the rein¬
deer and dog are the only domestic animals. In 1850 the
number of horses in the country was 384,464; of horned
cattle, 1,807,909; sheep and goats, 1,725,274; and pigs,
556,288. In 1822 the numbers respectively were—horses,
378,353 ; horned cattle, 1,484,984 ; sheep and goats,
1,477,709; pigs, 471,814: showing, in horses, an increase
in 28 years of only 2 per cent., in horned cattle 22 per
cent.; sheep and goats scarcely 17, and in pigs about 18
per cent, while the population had increased during that
period 32 per cent. In 1855 there were 1,921,568 horned
cattle, and 1,792?070 sheep in the country.
862
SWEDEN.
Statistics. Wild animals are numerous, especially in the northern
parts. Among the more common of these may be men-
Wild ani- tioned the wolf, bear, fox, lynx, glutton, elk, deer, hares,
mals. &c. Among wild birds are eagles, falcons, capercailzies,
woodcocks, partridges. Both the sea and the fresh waters
swarm with fish, which afford employment and subsistence
to many of the inhabitants. The fresh waters contain
perch, pike, salmon, trout, grayling, char, roach, bleak, &c.;
but of these the salmon is the most important, and is caught
abundantly in almost all the rivers and lakes. The sea-fish
include the sturgeon, cod, lamprey, ray, sole, turbot, pilchard,
herring, and the stromming, a small species of herring.
Mines. Next to agriculture, the mines of Sweden are the chief
source of her wealth. Iron exists in great abundance, and
is esteemed the best in the world. The mountain Gelli-
vara in Lapland, 1800 feet in height, is one mass of the
richest iron ore ; but its situation, beyond the arctic circle
(in lat. 67. 20. N.), far from the sea, and in an unpeopled
region, deprives it of value. Iron ore, however, is found in
almost every district of Sweden. The largest quantities
of iron are produced in Carlstad, Orebro, Gefle, Falun,
and Westeras ; but the best iron is obtained from the
mines of Dannemora, in the lan of Upsala. The quantity
of iron ore raised, during the five years ending 1854,
averaged about 300,000 tons annually ; the quantity of
pig-iron manufactured was nearly 140,000 tons; and of
bar-iron about 100,000 tons. The quantity of bar-iron ex¬
ported in 1858 was 59,449 tons, and of wrought-iron 2405
tons. This was, however, an unfavourable year, for in
1857 the quantity of bar-iron exported was 85,556 tons;
and, in 1856, 83,281 tons. Next to iron, copper forms the
most important of the mineral products of Sweden. The
most important copper mines are those of Falun in Dalarne ;
but mines are also worked at Otvidaberg in Linkoping-lan,
Areskuta in Jemtland, Hakanbo in Nerike, Bastras in
Westeras-lan, and other places. The amount of copper
obtained in 1855 was 1671 tons. Gold is found at Falun,
and a few other places, but the quantity is too small to pay
the expense of working. The principal silver mine is at
Sala in Westeras, and the produce of that metal, in 1850,
was over 405,000 oz. Of lead about 130 tons were^ pro¬
duced, and of nickel 320 tons.
Mannfac- Manufacturing industry has of late years been making
Ures. great progress in Sweden. The manufactures of cotton,
woollen, linen, and silk stuffs, sailcloth, cutlery, and hard¬
ware, paper, glass, earthenware, are all actively carried on.
At Motala is a large establishment for the manufacture of
steam-engines, iron steamers, &c., employing about 800
men, besides a branch establishment at Norrkoping, where
400 more are employed. A very large paper-mill has also
recently been established at Motala. Near Hudiksvall
extensive saw-mills have recently been erected by an
English company at a cost of upwards of L.52,000. I he
best native cutlery is produced at Eskilstuna, but it is
much inferior to the British manufacture. Ship and boat¬
building is carried on to some extent at most of the ports.
The distillation of brandy has of late much^ decreased, in
consequence of a rise in the rate of duty, and other restric¬
tions. In 1835 there were no fewer than 85,172 small,
and 670 large distilleries; whereas, in 1855, there were
only 3456 small, and 397 large; and, in 1858, 2477 small,
and 326 large distilleries. The quantity of spirits pro¬
duced in 1858 was 5,031,958 gallons, 3,442,749 gallons or
which were made in the large distilleries. T he amount of
revenue derived from the distilleries in 1858 was L.293,530.
Little or none of the brandy distilled in Sweden is ex¬
ported, being almost entirely consumed at home. Domestic
manufactures are largely carried on, for which the long
winter nights are very favourable. The peasantry make
not only their own clothes, but likewise their own furniture
and agricultural implements. The following table gives
the number of the several kinds of manufactories, the num- Statistics,
ber of workmen employed therein, and the value produced
thereat in 1851 :—
14
Manufactories. Number.
Cotton and linen  31
Cloth 156
Silk  17
„ ribbon  11
Yarn, linen, and cotton
(by machine) 
Sailcloth  12
Stockings and socks   18
Sugar  21
Tobacco  79
Paper  91
Leather 519
Dyeing 444
Calico printing  20
Glass    17
Porcelain  2
Stone and earthenware .... 49
Oil mills   65
Porter breweries      1
Wax candles   2
Stearine candles  2
Soap  12
Rope  23
Clocks and watches   137
Playing cards  11
Paper hangings  14
Chemical manufactories 1
of colours and acids... J
Carriages  19
Chemical tinder-boxes  7
Mechanics workshops  23
Linen yarn spinners  1
Various smaller works 699
Workmen.
1,023
4,377
805
101
2,175
1,148
372
679
1,277
1,299
1,686
1,639
138
909
650
332
208
71
6
57
45
175
313
86
128
63
127
311
857
118
2,073
Value.
L.55,463
470,369
75,805
4,023
273,291
31,191
11,332
391,986
134,816
76,839
109,721
54,386
7,370
60,376
33,703
9,801
52,841
16,260
846
5,280
12,040
6,904
2,915
2,994
5,668
4,050
6,676
5,737
35,313
9,244
58,222
Total 2,537
23,248 L.2,025,467
In 1854 there were 2413 manufactories employing 25,982
persons, and producing goods to the value of L.2,121,525.
The amount of taxes paid by manufacturers on account of
their businesses was L.3893.
The trade of Sweden is only now beginning to develop Trade,
itself, having been kept back by the unwise restrictions
imposed upon it by the government. These having now,
in some measure, been relaxed, commerce is beginning to
progress. In 1842 the total value of the imports was
L.1,438,130; of the exports, L.1,620,802: in 1849, im¬
ports, L.2,126,750 ; exports, L.2,195,500 : 1852, im¬
ports, L.2,420,750 ; exports, L.2,304,833 : 1854, im¬
ports, L.4,369,750; exports, L,4,400,000 : 1856, imports,
L.5,880,250; exports, L.5,135,166: and, in 1857 (an un¬
favourable year) imports, L.4,738,333; exports, L.4,357,417.
At the close of the year 1854, the total number of sailing
vessels amounted to 2783, of 236,296 tons burden, being a
decrease of 42 vessels upon the previous year, but an in¬
crease of tonnage to the amount of 6044 tons. During the
same year 44 foreign built vessels, of 10,548 tons, were
naturalized in Sweden. At the close of 1857 the number
of merchant vessels belonging to Sweden was 8190, with
295,410 tons. “I may here mention,” says the British
consul, in his report on the trade of Sweden during the
year 1855, “the very great increase that has taken place
in the carrying trade of Sweden since the alteration in the
navigation laws in 1849. The number of Swedish vessels
employed to carry freight from foreign countries to Eng-
lane was 28, tonnage 4176; whereas, in 1854, that num¬
ber had increased to 212 vessels, with a tonnage of 42,198
(in 1858 the number was 351 vessels, with 77,698). I
would at the same time remark, that in consequence of the
superior education of the masters and mates ol Swedish
mercantile vessels, the subordination and steadiness of their
crews, combined with great care in loading and unloading
their cargoes, they and the Norwegians have become the
favourite carriers with merchants ol all nations, ihis pre-
SWEDEN.
863
Statistics, ference is not to be attributed to a lower rate of freight
although they offer that advantage also ; but to the confi¬
dence reposed in the zeal and intelligence of the masters
and crews of those vessels.” “ The general foreign com¬
merce of Sweden attained an extent during the year 1854
to which it had never reached before, the amount of im¬
ports and exports having exceeded that of the preceding
year by about 50 per cent., while it more than doubled the
average amount of the five previous years. The value of
goods exported in 1854 exceeds that of the imports by
L.887,166 ; while, on the other hand, the value of bullion
imported into the country exceeds that of the export to an
almost equal amount, viz., L.856,083. This unusual cir¬
cumstance is chiefly caused by the increased exportation of
grain. After deducting the importations in 1854, the whole
export of wheat, barley, rye, oats, and peas amounted to
L.666,666.” In 1856 the total imports from foreign coun¬
tries amounted (as already stated) to L.5,880,250, and the
exports to L.5,135,166, a marked contrast to 1846, when the
total imports from foreign countries were L.l,717,000, and
the exports L.2,073,000. During the last four years very
considerable steps have been taken in the direction of free
trade, especially as regards the principal object of Swedish
industry, iron and steel, upon the export and import of which
heavy restrictions were imposed previously to 1856. The
commerce and industry of Sweden, during the years 1857
and 1858, were, as might have been supposed, considerably
affected by the monetary crisis which prevailed in Europe and
America. The following table shows the amount of trade
carried on by Sweden with foreign countries during 1857:—
Co an tries.
Norway 
Finland 
Russia 
Prussia 
Denmark 
Mecklinburg..
Hanseatic Towns
Holland  
Belgium   
Great Britain ....
France 
Spain 
Portugal 
Italy 
Austria 
United States....
West Indies 
Brazil  
East Indies and 1
Australia.... J
Other countries...
In ballast 
Total in 1857...
Entered.
812
674
363
217
2,450
6
460
42
11
1,154
54
79
38
30
3
20
12
31
16
3^563
10,037
40,004
29,258
34.246
14,748
52,962
520
52,418
6,872
1,644
203,606
11,640
21,230
6,286
7,496
228
10,116
3,500
7,240
5,660
432,290
Left.
571
384
80
221
3,692
134
409
69
91
1,496
585
79
66
18
1
23
1
34
39
130
1,764
921,964 ,9,787
21,166
17,314
3,972
13,088
147,182
11,908
36,256
10,280
19,490
306,410
136,296
20,082
12,180
4,612
202
12,742
250
8,222
21,940
34,954
164,404
1,002,950
S
L.
491,750
92,666
419.417
177,000
265.417
1,166
1,143,416
85,916
14,083
825,166
75,583
42,166
20,850
25,833
10,000
355,833
126,000
368,500
197,666
4,738,333
L.
147,250
102.833
17,083
130.833
452,916
38.583
951,416
58.500
50.583
1,365,500
469,166
75,666
104.000
110,666
3,250
164,000
333
41,750
40.500
115,915
4,357,416
Bar iron  (tons)
Wrought iron  ,,
Other metals   „
Beams and spars (pieces)
Deals and planks  (doz.)
Deal and batten ends  „
Masts and poles    „
Grain of all kinds (qrs- )
Tar (gal8-)
83,280
2,540
3,515
596,556
1,014,637
146,942
12,236
355,563
1,464,787
1857.
85,556
2,397
5,140
632,990
1,129,285
148,456
15,646
309,784
1,043,252
1858.
59,449
2,405
7,203
544,252
943,892
94,448
14,188
546,736
860,623
The trade of Sweden with the United Kingdom has Statistics,
within the last few years been rapidly increasing. The
following remarks from the report already quoted bear upon
the year 1854—“ The value of the import trade, which in
1845 amounted to L.200,916 and in 1850 increased to
L.277,666, has since risen without interruption. No pre¬
ceding year however shows so important an increase as
that of 1854, when the value of the imports, which in 1853
amounted to L.472,750, rose to L.772,000, in consequence
of the increased importation of almost every article. The
most remarkable increase is to be observed in the importa¬
tion of cotton yarn, which more than doubled that of any
preceding year. The importation of coal has increased
by nearly three hundred per cent, during the last ten years,
and the importation of raw cotton from Great Britain,
which in the year 1850 amounted to 1,649,160 lbs., had
risen in 1854 to 6,675,915 lbs. The value of the exports
to Great Britain, which in 1853 amounted to L.l,182,166
(exclusive of the silver coin which was sent to England in
that year), rose in 1854 to L.l,924,416, or nearly as much
as the whole exports of Sweden in the year 1845. This
important increase is chiefly attributable to the unusually
great exportation of grain, which amounted to 244,040
quarters, or 131,495 more than the exportation of the pre¬
ceding year, as well as to the high prices obtained for grain.
The export of timber and tar was also much greater in
1854 than in any former year.” The following tables give
the value of the principal articles of commerce between
Sweden and the United Kingdom:—
Exports.
Articles.
Iron, unwrought, in bars
„ bloom 
Steel, unwrought 
Timber, not sawn or split
„ deals, boards, bat- 1
tens, &c J
„ lath and firewood..
Tar 
Corn, wheat 
„ barley 
„ oats  
„ other kinds
Bones  
Oil seed-cake  
All other articles 
Total.
Computed real value.
1855.
L.
528,133
3,100
7,116
352,978
1,043,954
33,629
141,079
131,511
22,930
446,633
39,408
2,382
20,220
42,098
2,825,171
1856.
L.
559,807
7,726
29,994
251,426
756,669
34,178
25,191
35,068
11,277
240,169
676
1,630
10,604
64,446
2,031,861
1857
L.
577,998
17,262
37,165
310,985
484,789
32,413
8,870
12,445
49,398
297,733
2,560
2,195
9,266
69,181
1,912,260
1858.
L.
296,102
10,512
31,313
254,954
518,356
18,822
1,388
20,495
71,684
470,585
6,992
3,758
12,392
52,191
1,769,544
Imports.
The foreign trade is principally confined to the ports of
Stockholm and Gottenburg.
The following table gives the principal exports from the
Swedish ports during each of the years ending November
1856, 1857, and 1858:—
Produce and Manufactures
of the United Kingdom.
Apparel 
Coal, cinders, and culm
Copper  
Cotton goods 
>, yarn  
Hardware and cutlery.
Iron, wrought and un¬
wrought, including
un wrought steel 
Machinery 
Tin and tin plates 
Woollen goods  
,, yarn   
All other articles  
Total
Declared real value.
1855.
L.
4,728
48,447
6,468
26,758
146,262
14,117
88,909
83,888
5,709
63,347
1,437
55,314
545,384
L,
26,156
67,179
8,122
26,907
101,163
22,356
140.992
87,991
7,226
71,618
3,655
70,332
629,697
1857.
L.
9,655
79,461
8,057
15,415
75,508
21,479
100,504
111,123
6,765
48,708
1,529
81,495
1858.
L.
7,917
66,785
6,697
10,280
37,057
12,701
130,765
59,051
5,807
22,744
7,617
60,723
559,699
428,144
SWEDEN.
864
Statistics.
Koads.
Canals.
Railways.
Inhabit¬
ants.
Foreign and Colonial Pro¬
duce and Manufactures.
Coffee 
Cotton, raw  
Guano  
Hides, untanned...
Indigo 
Rum  
Sugar, unrefined .
Tea 
Wine 
Wool  
All other articles.
Total,
Computed real value.
L.
574
137,011
92,111
19,009
21,125
3,264
10,725
5,836
13,560
19,319
39,881
279,515
1856.
L.
1,717
56,155
53,099
22,752
23,748
12,580
56,606
3,668
11,028
13,137
46,305
300,795
1857.
L.
83
49.221
25,700
20,898
13,387
1,034
15,808
414
11.274
17,949
40,573
196,341
1858.
L.
23,723
117,983
1,135
8,849
14,785
222
21,733
906
5,534
3,170
23,241
221,281
The internal commerce of Sweden is very considerable,
and enjoys several advantages. The roads throughout the
country are generally good, and for four or five months in
the year the whole country is covered with snow, which
renders the conveyance of goods by sledges easy and expe¬
ditious. The great extent of sea-coast also affords great
facilities for internal trade as there are few provinces that
are not washed by the sea. The most important canal of
Sweden is the Gotha canal which connects the Cattegat
and Baltic, and was completed in 1832. It traverses Lakes
Wener and Wetter, and has a total length of 260 miles.
Another canal connects the river Arboga, which flows into
Lake Malar, with Lake Hielmar. The Sodertelge Canal
connects Lake Malar with the Baltic, while the Strbm-
sholms canal unites it with the mineral region of Dalecarlia,
terminating in Lake Barken. On this lake is situated the
town of Smedjebacken, which is almost entirely composed
of forges and ironworks. The first railway constructed in
Sweden—that between Nora and Orebro, 23 miles in
length—was opened on 5th March 1856, and since that
time several others have been opened or are in course of
construction. A branch line from Dylta, on the Orebro-
Nora line, 12 miles long, connects these towns with
Arboga, and a short line connects the two towns of Malmb
and Lund. A line between Stockholm and Gottenburg is
in course of formation, and is open for traffic from Gotten¬
burg to Toreboda, a distance of about 113 miles. The
railway between Gefle and Falun is nearly completed, and
is open for traffic for two-thirds of its length.
The inhabitants of Sweden are Swedes, Fins, and Lap¬
landers. The Swedes are a branch of the same family as
the Danes and Norwegians, and speak a dialect of the
same language, considerably modified, however, in conse¬
quence of the long political separation and international
enmity of the two nations. Books are translated from the
one language to the other, but the language of the pea¬
santry in Norway and Sweden does not differ more than
broad Scotch and Cockney English. The roots of the
words, construction and idioms, are the same in both, or
have a common origin. The Fins are supposed to have at
one time occupied the whole country, and to have been
driven to the forests and fastnesses of the North by an
irruption of Goths some centuries before our era. They
are now few in number, and are to be found as colonists,
here and there, in some of the northern provinces. The
Laps also inhabit the north, but they are said not to amount
to more than 4000.
In 1751, the population of Sweden amounted to 1,785,727;
in 1800, it was 2,347,303; in 1830, 2,888,082; and in
1850, 3,482,541. Sweden is divided into three large dis¬
tricts, viz., Norrland in the north, Swealand or Sweden Pro¬
per in the centre, and Gotaland or Gothland in the south;
and into 24 Ians or provinces, which with their areas and
populations at the end of 1850 and 1855 were as follows:—
Lans.
Swealand—
Stockholm...
Upsala 
Westeras 
Nykb,ping ..
Orebro ......
Carlstadt....
Fahlun 
Got ALAND—
Malmb 
Christianstadt
Halmstadt ....
Carlscrona 
Wexio 
Jbnkbping ....
Calmar 
Lynkbping....
Mariestadt....'"
Wenersborg
Gottenburg..
Wisby 
Norrland—
Gefleborg ....
Hernosand..
Ostersund...
Umea  
Pi tea  
Lakes ,....
Stockholm City,
Area in
English
square
miles.
Total.,.
2,902
2,067
2,660
2,505
3,260
6,935
12,247
1.779
2,427
1,900
1,130
3.779
4,283
4,256
4,247
3,312
5,031
1.889
1,225
7.553
9,497
19,113
29,356
32,984
3.553
Population.
114,643
89,323
96,661
120,113
137,660
221,885
151,497
253,084
189,627
105,726
107,827
136,623
163,426
202,178
222,484
199,897
246,136
187,583
44,572
120,158
99,558
52,271
70,758
55,751
93,070
Chief Towns.
169,880 3,482,541
117,193
90.828
98,941
123,689
142,863
232,521
158,755
268,664
196,121
110,815
111,255
143,707
166,462
212,565
230,601
208,771
254,505
196,390
46,985
126,368
107,717
56,041
75,994
63,629
97’,952
Sbdertelje.
Upsala 
Westeras...
Nykoping
Orebro 
Carlstadt..
Fahlun ....
Popu¬
lation.
3,639,332
Malmb 
Christianstadt
Halmstadt 
Carlscrona  
Wexio 
Jbnkbping 
Calmar  
Lynkbping 
Mariestadt ....
Wenersborg ....
Gotteuburg 
Wisby 
Gefle 
Hernosand
Ostersund..
Umea 
Pitea 
1.332
8,006
4,085
3,956
5,807
4,128
4,618
15,808
5,594
3,072
14,513
2,960
6,684
7,554
5,733
2,195
3,289
29,164
4,852
9,587
3,103
1,144
1,654
1,545
Statistics.
Most of these fans have other names, as Westeras, West-
manland; Nykbping, Sbdermanland; Carlstadt, Wermland;
Fahlun, Kopparberg; Halmstads, Halland; Carlskrona, Ble-
kinge; Wexio, Kronsberg; Lynkoping, Ostergothland; Ma-
riestad, Skaraborg; Wenersborg, Elfaborg; Wisby, Gottland;
Hernosand, Westernorrland; Ostersund, Jemfland; Umea,
Westerbottens; Pitea, Norrbotens. The following are the
other towns having in 1855 more than 2000 inhabitants :—
Eshilstuna (4031) in the liin of Nykbping; Norrkoping
(17,116) and Wadstena (2236) in Lynkoping; Westervik
(5038) in Calmar ; Carlshamn (5214) in Carlscrona ; Lund
(7254), Ystadt (5056), Landscrona (4833), and Helsing-
borg (4473) in Malmb; Warberg (2360) in Halmstadt;
Uddewalla (3859) in Gottenburg; Boras (2815) in We¬
nersborg ; Lidkbping (2883), and Skara (2096) in Marie¬
stadt ; Christinshamn (2002) in Carlstadt; Sala (3308) and
Arboga (2387) in Westeras; Hudiksvall (2266) and Sbder-
hamn (2183) in Gefleborg; and Sundsvall (3661) in Her¬
nosand. At the beginning of 1859 Stockholm had 101,502
inhabitants, Gottenburg 30,576, Norrkoping 18,062, Malmb
16,823, and Carlscrona 14,513. The population of the 90
towns of Sweden had increased from 378,394 in the end of
1855 to 398,142 in the beginning of 1859. In 1855, the
male population was 1,764,118, the female 1,875,214; in
1850, males 1,687,248, females, 1,795,293. Of the male
population in 1850, 10,074 were engaged in trade and com¬
merce ; 12,566 in the merchant service ; 37,808 in manu¬
factures ; 55,465 in arts and handicrafts; 40,514 in the
army and navy ; 8917 landed proprietors ; 166,308 owners
and cultivators of land; 40,621 tenants; 96,810 peasants
on private land; 17,026 peasants on crown land; 80,215
able-bodied cottagers, &c.; 832,145 sons of peasants, la¬
bourers, &c., above 10 years of age ; 2664 ^rdeners, &c.;
3430 islanders and fishermen ; 25,232 domestic servants ;
5530 clergymen, professors, and masters of universities and
public schools.
The people of Sweden are divided into four classes—Classes,
the nobility, clergy, burghers, and peasants. The aris¬
tocracy of Sweden is among the oldest in Europe, and Cobles,
consists of about 2400 families, numbering in all about
11,000 persons of both sexes. They at one time exercised
SWEDEN.
Statistics, great power and possessed a fifth part of the kingdom,
but now their landed possessions are estimated at under
L.6,000,000, which gives an average of less than L.2500
to each family. Hence many of, this class are very poor;
yet so great is their pride and so absurd are their notions as
to what may compromise their personal dignity, that as a
c^ass they repudiate all commercial or industrial pursuits,
and prefer remaining in a state of penury rather than make
an effort to relieve themselves by means which their false
ideas proclaim,to be derogatory. Every office in the state,
about the court, and in the army, is eagerly sought for by
the aristocracy, while appointments that require any deep
knowledge of the sciences, or demand profound study, are
generally left to those of more plebeian birth. Not that
this arises from any w'ant of capacity in the higher ranks,
but from their strict adherence to the rules and traditions of
Clergy. caste. Next in order after the nobility is the clergy, at the
head of whom is the archbishop of Upsala j besides whom
there are eleven bishops. There are in all nearly 1300
beneficed clergymen, while about 1900 more are attached
to the universities and other educational establishments, or
are not invested with full pastoral charges, the whole with
their families amounting to about 15,000 persons male and
female. The fixed revenues of the church are derived from
property valued at about L.85,000; but independent of this,
the clergy receive incomes from tithes, official grants, and
some casual sources which produce sufficient funds to give a
comfortable and even liberal stipend to every incumbent.
The established religion is Lutheran, and the clergy as a
whole, are a highly educated, intelligent, and respectable body
of men. Charges of immorality are seldom brought against
them, and even complaints of laxity of principle are not
frequent. They conscientiously discharge the routine
duties of their office, but they possess little of that true
spirit of Christianity by which alone the preaching of the
gospel can be made effectual. Baptism and confirmation
are indispensable to the holding of any office, or even to
the possession of civil rights. A Swede cannot marry
before being confirmed; neither can he take oath as a wit¬
ness in any court. Hence it is that the sacred ordinances
of religion have come to be generally regarded as mere
forms, necessary to the enjoyment of certain privileges, and
true religious feeling and pure morality are at a very low
ebb. A religious spirit, however, has been manifesting
itself lately in certain parts of Sweden ; and a dissenting
sect known as Lasere or readers, from their reading the
Scriptures, are becoming numerous, especially in the north.
They meet vyith great opposition from the clergy, for though
Protestant, the Established Church in Sweden is an emi¬
nently persecuting church, and as such is supported by the
civil laws. The exercise of other religious worships is
indeed permitted under certain restrictions, but no one but
a member of that church can hold any office, and dissenters
are debarred from^the enjoyment of many privileges ; while
every proselyte from the national creed is subject to fine, im¬
prisonment, confiscation of property, and even to banishment.
In 1856, certain proposals were laid before the diet in the
royal speech, for the purpose of granting some degree of
toleration to other sects, and in particular tor the abrogation
of the punishment of banishment for apostacy; but such
was the influence of the clergy that the measure was nega¬
tived in the houses of assembly. The archbishop and
bishops are nominated by the king from a list of candidates
presented to him by each diocese. Literary, scientific, or
administrative talents are qualifications quite as likely to
assist their possessor to a bishopric as any amount of piety
or deep theological lore. The Swedish clergy possess an
unlimited control over the national education of the country
which is under the immediate direction of each diocesan
consistory, a body invested with considerable powers, com¬
posed of the principal clergy, and presided over by the
VOL. XX.
865
bishop. It appoints all schoolmasters, disposes of many Statistics,
clerical offices, and presents pastors to nearly all the livings
not in the royal gift. It also unites judiciary with adminis¬
trative powers, judging in all causes relating to the spiritual
concerns of the church, or education, adjudicating in cases
where the clergy are guilty of any dereliction in their
ecclesiastical duties, and deciding in complaints against the
parochial assemblies. The third class is the burgesses, in Burgesses,
which there are about 70,000 persons of both sexes posses¬
sing real property to the amount of about L.3,000,000.
They are members of guilds or handicrafts in the cities, or
iron manufacturers, or have been in the magistracy. The
privileges secured to this class have acted very injuriously
upon the industry and trade of the country. Connected
with every trade or craft is a guild or corporation, the mem¬
bers of which are by law secured in the possession of cer¬
tain important rights and privileges. The fourth order,
that of peasants, comprises in all about 2,250,000 persons,
and possesses lauded property to the value of about
L.l5,000,000. These peasants are a well-educated, intelli- Peasants,
gent, prudent, and industrious class of people. They are all
land-owners, and by their wealth they are gradually absorb¬
ing much of the land that is passing from the hands of the
nobility. It is. calculated that between 1831 and 1841
land to the value of L.l,500,000 was sold or mortgaged
from the demesnes of the Swedish nobility.
Besides these four orders there are upwards of 1,200,000
persons in Sweden without any representatives in the legis¬
lature. These consist chiefly of the labouring population,
but they also include a numerous body possessing conside¬
rable landed and personal property, members of the learned
professions, distinguished literary and scientific men, and
others who have amassed fortunes by their talents and
industry. (See Danes and Swedes, by C. H. Scott, Lon¬
don, 1856; from which work we have principally derived
the preceding account of the several classes of the people.)
The diet or parliament of the kingdom is composed of The Diet,
representatives of each of the four orders. The chief of
every noble family has by right a Seat in the diet, and has
even the power of appointing a substitute in case of non-
attendance. Usually, however, not more than 400 attend
the meetings of the diet. This arises partly from the ina¬
bility of many of them to bear the expenses ; and also from
a feeling of pride which leads them to abstain from taking
a part in public affairs. The clerical order is represented
at the diet by 72 members, of wdiom the archbishop of
Upsala, the eleven bishops, and the pastor prinvarius of
Stockholm, are ex officio members, the others being elected
by and from the clergy of the dioceses. Among these
are included a certain number of lay professors from
the universities and the academy of sciences; but those
from the last must be neither of noble blood nor hold
any but purely civil rank. The clergy are the most inde¬
pendent and influential of the four estates, and hence they
exercise a great influence over the proceedings of the diet.
The burgesses rank as the third order, and elect 102 repre¬
sentatives to the diet. To be eligible for election the can¬
didate must belong to the order of burgesses, be twenty-five
years of age, and profess the Lutheran faith. The peasants,
or fourth order, are represented at the diet by 150 members.
The diet assembles at Stockholm every fifth year, and
usually sits for three or four months. The representatives
of each of the three lower orders are paid by their constit¬
uents during the sitting of the diet. Each body assembles
separately for discussion and deliberation, and an ordinary
measure is carried if three out of the four orders pass it";
but all constitutional questions must receive the sanction of
the whole. When a measure is supported or opposed bv
two of the orders, it is either dropped or submitted for de¬
cision to a committee composed of an equal number of
members from each order. The king nominates the presi-
5 K
866
SWEDEN*
Statistics, dent of each of the three orders of nobles, burghers, and
peasants, and possesses an absolute veto on all deciees
affecting the constitution passed by the diet; but has no
controlling power over their deliberations. He has the
right to introduce measures for their consideiation, but
cannot impose new taxes nor contract loans without their
sanction. .
Govern- The government is a hereditary monarchy in the male
ment. line. The council of state is nominated by the king, and
is composed of ten members, including a minister of justice,
a minister of foreign affairs, and the heads of each of the
departments of finance, the interior, marine, ecclesiastical
affairs, and war. The king cannot decide in any matter of
government without consulting the council, except in such
as refer to military or diplomatic affairs. The king is
Commander-in-Chief of the Forces by land and sea, but no
requisition of men or money can be made for purposes of
war without the full consent of parliament. Careful pro¬
vision is made for the impeachment of the Council of State
if they are found to have counselled the king to unconsti¬
tutional measures, or have themselves transgressed the laws
of the kingdom. The liberty of the press is one of the
fundamental provisions of the constitution.
The 24 Ians of Sweden are subdivided into 117 faeg-
derier, or districts, each comprising one or more harader,
or cantons. At the head of each lan is a governor, who is
charged with its civil and military jurisdiction and the re¬
ceipt of the revenue. Every canton is under the superin¬
tendence of an executive officer. There are 264 hiirad
courts, or courts of original jurisdiction, with a judge pre¬
siding over each. These courts sit three times a year, and
12 peasants are elected by the peasantry of each harad to
serve as jurymen for two years. There are three royal
judicial courts, viz., at Stockholm, Jdnkopping, and Chris-
tianstad. The supreme court of justice, or final court of
review, is composed of 12 councillors, and presided over by
the chancellor of justice.
Education. Elementary instruction is very generally diffused in
Sweden. It is reckoned that of the whole population, even
including the Laps, the proportion of grown-up persons
unable to read is less than one in a thousand. Parents in
even the humblest circumstances are able to give instruc¬
tion to their children in reading and writing ; and every
adult must give proof of ability to read before he can exer¬
cise any act of majority. This general diffusion of elemen¬
tary instruction is ascribed to the zeal of Gustavus Vasa
(1523-1560) and his immediate successors. John III., in
1574, ordered that any nobleman having no knowledge of
book-learning should forfeit his nobility. Charles XL, in
1684, required the clergy to have every Swedish subject
' taught to read, and decreed that no marriage should be
celebrated unless the parties had previously taken the Lord s
Supper; and that none should be allowed to communicate
who could not read and was not instructed in religion. In
1842 a law was passed commanding the erection of a school
in each parish ; but owing to the sparseness of the popula¬
tion, this was found to be in many cases impracticable, and
hence the necessity in many parts for ambulatory schools.
According to the census of 1850, there were 143,526 child¬
ren receiving instruction at the parochial schools; 126,178
at ambulatory schools; 6228 at public schools; 17,465 at
private schools, and 128,996 at home ; making in all 422,393
children receiving instruction. There are also in most of
the towns gymnasia or grammar schools for preparing stu¬
dents for the universities. In 1856 a new law was promul¬
gated, with the view of establishing an efficient system of
secondary education. At Stockholm and Gottenburg there
are normal schools for the training of teachers. There are two
universities in the country, those of Upsala and Lund. The
Upsala university was founded in 1477 by Sten Store the
elder. It received its greatest endowments from Gustavus
Adolphus, and has continued to be the leading university in Statistics.
Sweden. It has faculties of philosophy, law, medicine, and
theology; and in 1859 had 31 professors and 1451 students.
The annual expenditure is about L. 17,500. The Lund uni¬
versity was founded in 1668, and has also four faculties. The
number of students in 1859 was 610; prolessors, 28 ; sub¬
stitutes, 18. The annual expenditure is about L. 14,300.
Every one, before entering the church or practising either
law or medicine, is compelled to take his degree; while
candidates for many government offices are required to take
degrees in philosophy previous to entering upon a particular
study of the sciences necessary to a proper fulfilment of
their duties. The examinations are all of a high standard,
and well adapted to test the qualifications of the individuals
submitted to them.
The prevalence of immorality and crime in a country Crime,
like Sweden is not a little remarkable. The general dif¬
fusion of education and religious instruction, and the pur¬
suits of the people being chiefly agricultural, would lead one
to expect a low rate of crime. Such, however, is very far
from being the case. In 1835 the number of persons pro¬
secuted for criminal offences was 26,275, of whom 21,262
were convicted, 4915 acquitted, and 42 under examination ;
there being thus 1 prosecution for every 114 of the popu¬
lation, and 1 conviction for every 140. The number of
prisoners in Stockholm in 1850 was 3394, or 1 to 28 of the
population ; while in the whole of Sweden the proportion
of prisoners wras 1 to 261 of the population, This high
rate is doubtless in some measure to be accounted for from
certain peculiarities in its criminal code. Thus there are
many offences of a very venial kind, which cannot with
any propriety be called crimes, considered and punished as
such in Sweden ; but even after making every allowance
for such cases, there still remains enough to show that
crime in Sweden is unusually high. Illegitimacy is very
prevalent in Sweden, especially in Stockholm and the
other towms. In Stockholm in 1850 the total births were
3190, of whom 1424, or nearly one-half, were illegitimate ;
in the other towns the total number of births were 7805,
of whom 1538 were illegitimate; while in the country dis¬
tricts, of 99,404 births, only 7358 were illegitimate ; making
for the whole country a total of 100,079 legitimate, and
10,320 illegitimate.
The Swedish army is composed of four different kinds of Army,
troops, viz., the enlisted or regular troops, the indelta, the
Gothland militia, and the conscription. The regular troops
{yarfrade) amount to about 7692 men, of whom nearly two-
thirds are artillery and 1000 cavalry. 4 hey usually serve
for six years. The indelta is composed of men furnished
and supported by the landed proprietors. Every holder of a
certain amount of crown-land is bound to provide a man, to
w'hom he assigns a croft of land with a cottage, and pays a
small annual money allowance. The croft is cultivated by
the soldier himself while at home, and during his absence
on service by the landholder for his behoof. Once a year
during four weeks they are called out for drill. Ihey are
retained as long as they are considered fit for service.
This force numbers about 33,400 men. The Gothland
militia is specially for the defence of that island, and
amounts to about 7620 men. ‘ The conscription or militia
is composed of males between the ages of 20 and 25, all of
whom are bound to serve or procure substitutes. I hey
are assembled once a year for drill and exercise, and amount
to about 95,000 men. The total force amounts to 144,000
men, besides officers.
The navy of Swreden consists of 10 ships of the line, Navy.
6 frigates, 4 corvettes, 4 brigs, 9 steam-corvettes, 20 war
schooners, 77 large and 122 smaller gun-boats, with other
crafts, making in all 897 vessels of all kinds. 1 he permanent
seamen at command of the government amount to about
8000. They are maintained in the same manner as the
S W E
Sweden- ^delta troops, by assignments of land. Including con-
. borg. scripts, the whole naval force may be raised to about
24,000 men.
Revenue. The revenue for each of the three years ending ] 860
was estimated at L. 1,450,670, of which L.449,140 was from
land-tax and other perpetual revenues, and L.1,001,530
S W E 867
from customs, stamps, and other taxes voted at every diet. Sweden-
The ordinary expenditure for each of these years was esti- borg.
mated at L. 1,397,726; but besides this there was an extra-
ordinary expenditure extending over the three years of
L. 1,462,927, which was to be met by reserved funds and
others, estimated to amount to L. 1,573,609. (d. k.)
SWEDENBORG, Emanuel, was born at Stockholm, in
Sweden, in January 1689. His father was bishop of Skara
in West Gothland; member of a society for the propaga¬
tion of the Gospel, formed on the plan of that of England ;
and president of the Swedish Church in Pennsylvania and
London. To this last office he was appointed by Charles
XII. who seems to have had a great regard for the bishop,
and to have continued that regard to his son. Of the course
of young Swedenborg’s education we have procured no
account; but from the character of the father, it may be
supposed to have been pious; and by his appearing with
reputation as an author when but twenty years of age,
it is proved to have been successful. His first work was
published in 1709; and the year following he sent into
the world a collection of pieces on different subjects, in
Latin verse, under the title of Ludus Heliconius, sive
Carmina Miscellanea quce variis in locis cecinit. The same
year he began his travels, first into England, afterwards
into Holland, France, and Germany, and returning to Stock¬
holm in 1714, he was two years afterwards appointed to
the office of assessor in the Metallic College by Charles
XIL, who honoured him with frequent conversations, and
bestowed upon him a large share of his favour. At this
period of his life Swedenborg devoted his attention princi¬
pally to physic and mathematical studies; and in 1718 he
accompanied the king to the siege of Frederickshall, where
he gave an eminent proof that he had not studied in vain.
Charles could not send his heavy artillery to Frederickshall,
from the badness of the roads, which were then rendered
much worse than usual by being deeply covered with snow.
In this extremity Swedenborg brought the sciences to the
aid of valour. By the help of proper instruments he cut
through the mountains and raised the valleys which sepa¬
rated Sweden from Norway, and then sent to his master
two galleys, five large boats, and a sloop, loaded with bat¬
tering pieces, to be employed in the siege. The length of
this canal was about 2^ miles. The execution of this great
work, however, did not occupy all his time. In 1716 he
had begun to publish essays and observations on the mathe¬
matical and physical sciences, under the title of Dcedalus
Hyperboreus; and he found leisure during the siege to
complete his intended collection, and also in the same year
to publish an introduction to algebra, under the whimsical
title of the Art of the Rules.
At the siege of Frederickshall he lost his royal patron ;
but he found another in Ulrica Eleonora, the sister and
successor of that hero, by whom, in 1719, he was created a
baron. His promotion did not lessen his ardour for the
sciences; for he published in the same year A Method to
fix the Value of Money, and to determine the Swedish
Measures in such a way as to suppress all the Fractions and
facilitate the Calculations. About the same time he gave
the public a treatise on The Position and Course of the
Planets ; with another on The Height of the Tides, and
Flux and Reflux of the Sea; which, from information
gathered in different parts of Sweden, appeared to have
been greater formerly than when he wrote.
As Swedenborg continued, under the new sovereign, to
hold the office of assessor to the Metallic College, he thought
it necessary, for the discharge of his duty, to make a
second journey into foreign countries, that he might himself
examine their mines, particularly those of Saxony and
Harts. During these travels, which were undertaken for
the improvement of the manufactures of his native country,
he printed at Amsterdam Prodromus Principiorum Na-
turahurn sive novorum Tentaminum Chemiam et Physicam
expenmenta/em geometrice explicandi ; Nova Observata et
Jnventa circa Ferrum et Ignem, preecipue Naturam Ignis
elementarem, una cum nova Camini Inventione ; Metho¬
dius nova inveniendi Longitudines Locorum terra marique
ope Lunee ; Modus construendi Receptacula Navalia vulgo
en Dockybynadder ; Nova Constructio Aggeris Aquatici ;
Modus explorandi Virtutes Navigiorum; and at Leipzig
and Hamburg, Miscellanea Observata circa Res Naturales,
prcesertim Mineralia, Ignem, et Montium Strata. This
journey was made, and these tracts published, in the com¬
pass of a year and a half; and perhaps there has not been
another man, Linnaeus excepted, who has done so much in
so short a time. After his return in 1722, Swedenborg
divided his time so equally between the duties of his office
and his private studies, that in 1733 he finished his grand
work, entitled Opera Philosophica et Mineralia and had
it printed under his own direction in 1734, partly at Dres¬
den and partly at Leipzig. During the same year he also
went to inspect the mines of Austria and Hungary. The
work is divided into three volumes folio. The title of the
first is Principia Rerum Naturalium, sive novorum Tenta¬
minum Phcenomena Mundi elementaris philosophice expli¬
candi; of the second, Regnum Subterraneum, sive Minerals
de Ferro; and the third, Regnum Subterraneum, sive
Minerale de Cupro et Orichalco. The whole is written
with great strength of judgment; and the work is orna¬
mented with plates to facilitate the comprehension of the
text.
In the year 1729 he was enrolled among the members of
the Society of Sciences at Upsala, and was, probably about
the same time, made a fellow of the Royal Academy of
Sciences at Stockholm ; nor were strangers less willing
than his own countrymen to acknowledge the greatness of
his merit. Wolfius, with many other learned foreigners,
was eager to court his correspondence. The Academy of
St Petersburg sent him, on the 17th of December 1734, a
diploma of association as a corresponding member ; and soon
afterwards the editors of the Acta Eruditorum, published
at Leipzig, recognised in his works some acceptable contri¬
butions to useful knowledge.
By many persons the approbation of learned academies
would have been highly valued, but by Baron Swedenborg
it was considered as of very little importance. “ Whatever
of worldly honour and advantage may appear to be in the
things before mentioned, I hold them,” says he, “ but as
matters of low estimation, when compared to the honour
of that holy office to which the Lord himself hath called
me, who was graciously pleased to manifest himself to me,
his unworthy servant, in a personal appearance, in the year
1743, to open in me a sight of the spiritual world, and to en¬
able me to converse with spirits and angels; and this privilege
has continued with me to this day. From that time I
began to print and publish various unknown Arcana, which
have been either seen by me or revealed to me, concern¬
ing heaven and hell, the state of men after death, the true
worship of God, the spiritual sense of the Scriptures, and
many other important truths tending to salvation and true
wisdom. (Short Account of the Hon. E. Swedenborg.)
868 S W E
Sweden- After this extraordinary call, Swedenborg dedicated him-
borgians. se]f wholly to the great work which, he supposed, was
Vs—'sT—^ assigned him, studying diligently the Word ot God, and
from time to time publishing to his fellow-creatures such
important information as was made known to him concern-
incr another world. Among his various discoveries con¬
cerning the spiritual world, one is, that it exists not in space.
« of £hiSj” Says he, “ I was convinced, because I could
there see Africans and Indians very near me, although
they are so manv miles distant here on earth; nay, that I
could be made present with the inhabitants of other planets
in our system, and also with the inhabitants of planets that
are in other worlds, and revolve about other suns. By
virtue of such presence, I have conversed with apostles,
departed popes, emperors, and kings ; with the late reformers
of the church, Luther, Calvin, and Melanchthon, and with
others from distant countries.” (SwedenborgV
Theology, voh i. p. 87.) Notwithstanding the want of space
in the spiritual world, he tell us, “ that after death a man
is so little changed that he even does not know but he is
living in the present world; that he eats and drinks, and
even enjoys conjugal delight, as in this world; that the
resemblance between the two worlds is so great, that in the
spiritual world there are cities, with palaces and houses, and
also writings and books, employments and merchandises; that
there are gold, silver, and precious stones there.” “ In
a word,” he says, “ there is in the spiritual world all and
everything that there is in the natural world, but that in
heaven such things are in an infinitely more perfect state.
Such was his zeal in the propagation of these peculiar doc¬
trines, that he frequently left his native country to visit
distant cities, particularly London and Amsterdam, where
all his theological works were printed at great expense,
and with little prospect or probability of a reimbursement.
“ Wherever he resided when on his travels, he was,”
savs one of his admirers, u a mere solitary, and almost inac¬
cessible, though in his own country of a free and open
behaviour. He affected no honour, but declined it; pur¬
sued no worldly interest, but spent his time in travelling
and printing, in order to communicate instruction and
benefit to mankind. He had nothing of the precise in his
manner, nothing of melancholy in his temper, and nothing
in the least bordering on enthusiasm in his conversation or
writings.” He died at London, March 29, in the year
1772;° and after lying in state, his remains were deposited
in a vault at the Swedish church, near Radcliff-Highway.
SWEDENBORGIANS. Among the first disciples of
the.Swedenborgian faith were two clergymen of the Church
of England, the Rev. Thomas Hartley, who translated the
work on Heaven, and Hell; and the Rev. John Clowes, trans¬
lator of the Arcana Ccelestia. In December 1783, eleven
S W E
Swedenborg will be seen from the following “ Articles of Sweden-
Faith.” These were not written by Swedenborg, but were borgians.
drawn up by order of the Annual Conference of Ministers
and Laymen, by whom the affairs of the body, as at pre¬
sent constituted, are managed.
“ The Articles of Faith of the New Church, signified by the New
Jerusalem in the Revelation, are these :—
« i. That Jehovah God, the Creator and Preserver of heaven
and earth, is hove itself and Wisdom itself, or Good itself and
Truth itself; that He is One both in Essence and in Person, in whom,
nevertheless, is the Divine Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
which are the Essential Divinity, the Divine Humanity, and the
Divine Proceeding, answering to the soul, the body, and the ope¬
rative energy in man; and that the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
is that God.
“ 2. That Jehovah God himself descended from heaven as Divine
Truth, which is the Word, and took upon him human nature, for
the purpose of removing from man the powers of hell, and restoring
to order all things in the spiritual world, and all things in the
Church ; that He removed from man the powers of hell, by combats
against and victories over them, in which consisted the great work
of redemption ; that by the same acts which were His temptations,
the last of which was the passion of the cross, He united in His
humanity, Divine Truth to Divine Good, or Divine Wisdom to
Divine Love, and so returned into His divinity, in which He was
from eternity, together with and in His glorified humanity;
whence He for ever keeps the infernal powers in subjection to
Himself; and that all who believe in Him, with the understanding
from the heart, and live accordingly, will be saved.
“ 3. That the Sacred Scripture, or Word of God, is Divine Truth
itself, containing a spiritual sense heretofore unknown, whence it
is divinely inspired, and holy in every syllable ; as well as a literal
sense, which is the basis of its spiritual sense, and in which Divine
Truth is in its fulness, its sanctity, and its power ; thus, that it is
accommodated to the apprehension both of angels and men; that
the spiritual and natural senses are united by correspondences,
like soul and body, every natural expression and image answering
to and including a spiritual and divine idea; and thus that the
Word is the medium of communication with heaven, and of con¬
junction with the Lord.
“ 4. That the government of the Lord's Divine Love and Wis¬
dom is the Divine Providence, which is universal, exercised accord¬
ing to certain fixed laws of order, and extending to the minutest
particulars of the life of ail men, both of the good and of the evil;
that in all its operations it hath respect to what is infinite and
eternal, and makes no account of things transitory, but as they are
subservient to eternal ends ; thus, that it mainly consists with man
in the connection of things temporal with things eternal; for that
the continual aim of the Lord, by His Divine Providence, is to join
man to Himself, and Himself to man, that He may be able to give
him the felicities of eternal life; and that the laws of permission
are also laws of the Divine Providence, since evil cannot be pre¬
vented without destroying the nature of man as an accountable
agent; and because, also, it cannot be removed unless it be known,
and cannot be known unless it appear; thus, that no evil is per¬
mitted but to prevent a greater; and all is overruled by the Lord’s
Divine Providence for the greatest possible good.
“ 5. That man is not life, but is only a recipient of life from the
Lord, who, as He is Love itself and Wisdom itself, is also Life
years after Swedenborg s decease, an advertisement bt ought ^ i;fe ;s communicated by influx to all in the spiritual
5 persons to meet together for reading and conversation,
which number had increased to 30 in 1787. About this
time the formation of a definite religious society was com¬
menced ; provision was made for public worship; and a
system of ministerial ordination was adopted. At the
fifteenth conference, held in Manchester in August 1822,
there were 8 ministers and 37 delegates, representing 24
congregations. At the census of 1851, the number of con¬
gregations was ascertained to be 50, o( which the greater
number were in Lancashire and Yorkshire. It is considered,
however, by members of the body, that the mere number
of their chapels gives a very inadequate idea ol the pre¬
valence of their opinions; many, they say, ostensibly con¬
nected with other churches, entertain the prominent doc¬
trines of the New' Church. The principal societies for dis¬
seminating the doctrines of the New Church in England are,
the “Swedenborg Printing Society,”established in 1810, and
the “Missionary and Tract Society,” established in 1821.
The doctrines held by the New Church of Emmanuel
world, whether belonging to heaven or hell, and to all in the na¬
tural world, but is received differently by every one, according to
his quality, and consequent state of his reception.
“ 6. That man, during his abode in the world, is, as to his spirit,
in the midst between heaven and hell, acted upon by influences
from both, and thus is kept in a state of spiritual equilibrium
between good and evil; in consequence of which he enjoys free-
w7ill, or freedom of choice, in spiritual things as well as in natural,
and possesses the capacity of either turning himself to the Lord
and His kingdom, or turning himself away from the Lord, and
connecting himself with the kingdom of darkness ; and that, unless
man had such freedom of choice, the Word would be of no use; the
Church would be a mere name; man would possess nothing by
virtue of which he could be conjoined to the Lord, and the cause
of evil would be chargeable on God himself.
“ 7. That man at this day is born into evil of all kinds, or with,
tendencies towards it; that therefore, in order to his entering the
kingdom of heaven, he must be regenerated or created anew;
which great work is effected in a progressive manner, by the Lord
alone, by charity and faith as mediums during man’s co-operation;
that as all men are redeemed, all are capable of being regenerated,
and consequently saved, every one according to his state; and
S W E
Sweerts that the regenerate man is in communion with the angels of heaven,
and the unregenerate with the spirits of hell; but that no one is
Swietan. condemned for hereditary evil, any further than as he makes it his
own by actual life; whence all who die in infancy are saved, spe¬
cial means being provided by the Lord in the other life for that
purpose.
“ 8. That repentance is the first beginning of the Church in man;
and that it consists in a man’s examining himself both in regard to
his deeds and his intentions, in knowing and acknowledging his
sins, confessing them before the Lord, supplicating Him for aid,
and beginning a new life ; that to this end, all evils, whether of
affection, of thought, or of life, are to be abhorred and shunned as
sins against God, and because they proceed from internal spirits,
who in the aggregate are called the Devil and Satan ; and that
good affections, good thoughts, and good actions are to be cherished
and performed, because they are of God and from God; that these
things are to be done by man as of himself ; nevertheless, under
the acknowledgment and belief that it is from the Lord, operating
in him and by him; that so far as man shuns evils as sins, so far
they are removed, remitted, or forgiven ; so far also he does good,
not from himself but from the Lord ; and in the same degree he
loves truth, hath faith, and is a spiritual man ; and that the Deca¬
logue teaches what evils are sins.
“9. That Charity, Faith, and Good Works are unitedly necessary
to man’s salvation ; since charity without faith is not spiritual but
natural, and faith without charity is not living but dead, and both
charity and faith without good works are merely mental and
perishable things, because without use or fixedness; and that
nothing of faith, of charity, or of good works, is of man, but that
all is of the Lord, and all the merit is His alone.
“ 10. That Baptism and the Holy Supper are sacraments of Divine
institution, and are to be permanently observed,—baptism being an
external medium of introduction into the Church, and'a sign repre¬
sentative of man’s purification and regeneration, and the Holy
Supper being an external medium of those who receive it worthily,
of introduction as to spirit into heaven, and of conjunction with
the Lord ; of which also it is a sign and seal.
“ 11. That immediately after death, which is only a putting off
of the material body, never to be resumed, man rises again in a
spiritual or substantial body, in which he continues to live to
eternity; in heaven if his ruling affections, and thence his life, have
been good; and in hell if his ruling affections, and thence his life,
have been evil.
“12. That now is the time of the SecondAdvent of the Lord,which
is a coming not in Person, but in the power and glory of his Holy
Word. That it is attended, like His first coming, with the resto¬
ration to order of all things in the spiritual world, where the won¬
derful Divine operation, commonly expected under the name of the
last judgment, has in consequence been performed; and with the
preparing of the way for a New Church on the earth—the first
Christian Church having spiritually come to its end or consumma¬
tion through evils of life and errors of doctrine, as foretold by the
Lord in the Gospels ; and that this New or Second Christian Church,
which will be the Crown of all churches, and will stand for ever,
is what was representatively seen by John, when he beheld the
holy city, New Jerusalem, descending from God out of heaven,
prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.”
In Sweden, Germany, France, America, and the British
colonies, the faith of Swedenborg has taken partial root.
Richer of Nantes has used his eloquence in favour of the
new faith ; Moet and Tulk have likewise translated Sweden¬
borg into French. The greatest of his German followers
is Dr Tafel, and the greatest of his English disciples is
J. J. Garth Wilkinson.
SWEERTS, Jacques Thierri, a Dutch general, born
at Gorcum in 1759. At an early age he entered the army,
and in 1792 had risen to the rank of colonel. In the fol¬
lowing year he served with distinction in the campaign
between his country and France; but on the conquest of
Holland and the flight of the stadtholder, to whom he was
warmly attached, he left the service, and remained in re¬
tirement till 1813. On the retreat of the French from
Holland, the provisional government raised Sweerts to the
rank of general; and in that capacity he did much to bring
about the restoration of the Orange family. William Fre¬
derick, on his accession, appointed him governor of the
palace at the Hague, where he died in 1820.
SWIETAN, Gerard Van, an eminent Dutch phy¬
sician, was born at Leyden in 1700. He studied at Lou-
S W I 869
vain, and subsequently at Leyden, where he soon became Swift,
the favourite pupil of Boerhaave. Having graduated in
medicine, he was soon after appointed to a professorship,
but objection was taken to his being a Roman Catholic,
and he was forced to resign his claim. In] 1745 he was
chosen first physician to Maria Theresa of Austria, and he
used all his influence for many years to improve the scien¬
tific standing of the city of Vienna. The work by which
he is now chiefly know to physicians is his Commentaria
in Herwanii Boerhavii Aphorismos de *cognoscendis et
curandis morbis, 5 vols. 4to, 1741-42. Swietan was created
a baron of the empire of Austria by Maria Theresa. He
died in 1772, and a statue has been erected to his memory
in the hall of the University of Vienna.
SWIFT, Jonathan, D.D., Dean of St Patrick’s, the
most original writer of his own, and perhaps the greatest
satirist of any age, was born in Hoey’s Court, Dublin,
November 30, 1667. Like Pope’s, his family was of York¬
shire origin ; in the time of Charles I. the representative of
one branch had obtained a peerage which expired with him.
I he first of his own immediate ancestors known to us was
a clergyman, rector of St Andrew’s, Canterbury, from 1569
to 1592, whose son succeeded him in that living, and whose
grandson was the Rev. Thomas Swift, vicar of Goodrich in
Herefordshire, renowned for his eccentricity, his mechanical
ingenuity, and above all for his stubborn devotion to Charles
L, and the persecutions he underwent in consequence.
Plundered thirty-six times, ultimately ejected from his
living, he died in 1658, leaving his thirteen children a small
and greatly impoverished landed estate, and the questionable
advantage of a substantial claim on the gratitude of the
restored sovereign. More fortunate than most who have
kings for debtors, his eldest son Godwin soon obtained the
Attorney-Generalship of the Palatinate of Tipperary. This
piece of good fortune naturally attracted other members of
the family across the channel,—among them Jonathan, one
of the youngest of nine brothers, but already husband of
Abigail Ericke of Leicester, a lady of descent more ancient
and means more limited than his own. A student of law,
but never called to the bar, Jonathan appears to have sub¬
sisted for some years on windfalls and casual employments.
At length (1665) he became steward of the King’s Inns
(answering to the inns of court in England), an office of
small emolument. Two years afterwards he died suddenly,
leaving an infant daughter, and a widow pregnant with the
future Dean of St Patrick’s. So embarrassed had his cir¬
cumstances been, that although considerable debts were
owing to the estate, Mrs Swift was for the moment unable
to defray the expense of his interment. Thus Swift’s first
experience of life was that of a dependant on the charity of
his uncles, more particularly of Godwin. It is easy to
conceive the effect of perpetual indigence and mendicancy
on a spirit like his, and the inevitable bitterness of the
situation was aggravated by the grudging manner in which
the Tipperary official seemed to dole out his parsimo¬
nious help. In fact, the apparently prosperous relative was
the victim of unfortunate speculations, and preferred the
reproach of avarice to the acknowledgment of the humiliat¬
ing truth. A virulent resentment became ingrained into
the youth’s whole nature, and though ultimately acquainted
with the real state of the case, he never mentioned his
uncle with kindness or respect. Other relatives did more
to merit his regard. Yet he took no pride in his Irish con¬
nections or nativity, and a singular adventure in his infancy
seems to have afforded him a pretext for insinuating that h"e
was really born in England. When he was but Two years
old, his nurse, a native of Whitehaven, was recalled to that
town by an illness in her family. So attached had she
become to her charge, as to clandestinely carry him away
with her. Mrs Swift was induced to consent to his remain¬
ing with her for a time, and the child spent three years in
Cumberland. By his return his education had made con¬
siderable progress, and in the next year he was sent to the
grammar school at Kilkenny. There can be no question
as to the author of Gulliver having been a remarkable child,
but unfortunately only one anecdote of his school-days has
been preserved. It is the story, graphically narrated by
himself, of his having once invested the whole of his pocket-
money in the purchase of an old horse condemned to the
knacker’s yard, his momentary triumph over his school¬
fellows, and his mortification on discovering the uselessness
of his acquisition ; an anecdote highly characteristic of his
darincr, pride, and ambition, and from which, instead of the
moraf he professed to discover, he might have derived an
augury of the majestic failure of his life.
'in his fifteenth year, and equipped, as is probable, with
no more than the literary supellex usually brought away
from a country grammar-school, Swift was matriculated at
Trinity College, Dublin. The history of his residence
there is the history of many another youth of parts, fallen
upon an unpropitious era in the annals of learning, and
restrained, by the very mental superiority which would have
triumphed in any worthy competition, from contending for
a garland of dead leaves. At that period, the logic of the
schoolmen was the beginning, the middle, and the end of
Dublin university education. Swift subsequently became
as finished a classical scholar as an irregular training would
allow; his understanding proved fully capable of appre¬
hending the principles and the utility of those mathematical
studieslo which his taste by no means naturally inclined; but
his reasoning powers must have been less remarkable than
was the case, had they allowed him to fancy them assisted by
the study actually enforced upon him. He might undoubtedly
have accommodated himself to this had he so willed ; a
stronger proof of his contempt and distaste, therefore, could
not well be produced than the ignorance which, on standing
for his bachelorship in February 1686, he displayed of the
very definition of a syllogism. The degree for some time
withheld was at length conferred speciali gratia, and the
mortifying record stands against his name to this day in the
colleo-e books. This disgrace, never ascribed to incapacity
by any7 reader of the Dean of St Patricks, the college con¬
temporaries of poor uncouth Jorrathan Swift would have
thought it absurd to attribute to any other cause. Swift
doubtless incurred the contempt of the whole university;
and it is in the ferocity of his wounded pride that we must
seek the explanation of the irregularities which marked the
latter part of his academical career. Within little more
than two years after his humiliation, the future champion of
establishments, civil and ecclesiastical, had undergone no
fewer than twenty-two penalties for breaches of discipline,
besides the degradation of a public apology to the junior
dean, Dr Owen Lloyd. Barren as his residence was of
university honours, it is by no means likely that his time
elapsed in indolence, or that his freaks and irregularities
absorbed the whole energy of his mind. His subsequent
period of intense study will hardly account for the whole
extent of desultory information evinced by his writings, and,
if we can rely on a tradition referring the first draught of
the Tale of a Tub to this epoch, it must be allowed that
his mental powers were developed with a very unusual
precocity. . , „ , . ,
In 1688 Swift quitted the university, and, after a briet
residence with his mother at Leicester, entered the family
of Sir William Temple as amanuensis, on a salary, it is t-aid,
of L.20 per annum. A distant relationship between his
mother and Lady Temple appears to have recommended
him to this post, which his pride must have struggled to
accept, and which it hardly suffered him to retain. The
relations of patron and dependent are at best delicate and
precarious ; and if Swift was of all men the first to wince
under any slight offered to his dignity, the precise and
finical Temple was of all the last to condescend^ to any gw;ft.
abatement of his own. As minister and diplomatist, Temple
had rendered great and durable services : if he afterwards
abstained from public affairs, it was chiefly from a doubt
whether his ungrateful country deserved salvation at such
illustrious hands. If he solaced his voluntary ostracism by
a comparison with the elegant retirement and lettered ease
of Cicero, it did not therefore occur to him to compare his
obscure Irish secretary with the Roman orator’s amanu¬
ensis Tiro, who had, at least, invented short-hand. We
who know that in the patron’s place the dependent would
have governed the nation, need not be surprised at finding,
full twenty years afterwards, the iron of servitude still
rankling in the latter’s haughty soul. He nevertheless
made himself useful to his employer, who on one occasion
rendered him the medium of a confidential communication
to King William, who had consulted Temple on the bill for
triennial parliaments, then sanctioned by both branches of
the legislature. Swift did his best to enforce Temple’s
arguments in favour of the measure, and was in after life
wont to refer to the failure of his rhetoric as the most useful
lesson his vanity had ever received. Struck, it would seem,
rather by the physical than the mental endowments of the
robust young Irishman, W1 illiam offered him a troop of horse,
a proposal which appears to have been subsequently com¬
muted into a promise of church preferment. Swift had
already proceeded to the degree of M.A. at Oxford, and
the execution of his design to embrace the ecclesiastical
profession was hastened by a quarrel with Temple, occa¬
sioned by the latter’s reluctance to contract any definite
engagement to provide for him. Throwing up his employ¬
ment, he passed (1694) over into Ireland, but found his
views impeded by the refusal of all the bishops to ordain
him without some certificate of the regularity of his deport¬
ment while in Temple’s family. Five months passed ere he
could bring himself to solicit this favour from his old patron,
which he ultimately did in a letter submissive in appearance,
but charged to the full with smothered rage and intense
humiliation. Forgiveness was easy to one in Temple’s place
and of Temple’s disposifon, and he not only despatched the
requisite testimonials, but added a recommendation which
obtained for Swift the living of Kilroot, in the diocese of
Down and Connor. His residence here was not fated to be
of long duration. Temple, who knew his value and had
not parted with him willingly, soon let him understand that
a return was open to him, and Swift, whose resentment was
cooled by time and soothed by the discovery of his indis¬
pensableness, lent an unreluctant ear to the overture. He
continued to reside with Sir William till the latter s death
in 1698; nor does their intimacy appear to have been
troubled by any further disagreement. A story represent¬
ing his return from Ireland as a flight necessitated by a
disgraceful action, has been fully exposed as a crazy
calumny invented long after his death ; another ascribing
it to a generous relinquishment of his living in favour of a
more needy clergyman, would seem, like more than one
other tradition respecting him, to be less supported by any
convincing testimony than by his Irish biographers ideas
of the abstract fitness of things.
Lord Macaulay has justly pointed out the familiarity with
public affairs acquired by Swift at Moor Park as one main
cause of his subsequent distinction as a politician, and here,
too, he laid the foundation of his literary renown. Report
asserts him to have read regularly for eight hours every day;
and we have his own authority for his having, as early as
1691, “ written and burned, and written again, more on all
manner of subjects than perhaps any man in England.” His
fortitude was probably more commendable than his fecun¬
dity ; at least the only relics of these early days belong to
a species of composition in which he was little qualified to
excel. Nature had denied him the poet’s eye, the poet’s
SWIFT. 871
Swift, ear, and the poet’s soul; nor would he, probably, have sought
the laurel from a generation less hopelessly unfeeling, un¬
imaginative, and unmusical. At a period, however, when
the merit of the poet was rated by his intellectual vigour,
Swift might climb without much fear of a fall. If his
strains were no better poetry than the effusions of Pomfret
and Stepney, they were at all events much better prose,
and if tried simply by the standard of his other works, are
frequently entitled to no inconsiderable praise. Some pieces,
such as Baucis and Philemon, are models of easy familiar
elegance; the conception of others is highly ingenious;
another class, of which the Petition to Harley may be con¬
sidered as the type, blend the grace of idyl with the grace
of comedy. Nothing can be more perfect in its kind than
the Description of a City Shower, unless it be the Grand
Dispute respecting Hamilton's Bawn ; and Swift’s satirical
and epigrammatical powers could only gain point by sub¬
mitting to metrical restraint. Poetry worthy of the name
he did not and could not write ; and his only serious attempt
in this direction—the luckless series of Pindaric Odes—is
chiefly memorable for the severe and unforgiven remark it
called forth from his kinsman Dryden—“ Cousin Swift, you
will never be a poet.” Swift’s first prose composition be¬
trayed his resentment. In the Battle of the Books, a sati¬
rical contributipn to the controversy on the Letters of Pha-
laris, written, or rather purloined from a French prototype,
about 1697, his sarcasm for the first and last time recoiled
upon himself. The satire against Dryden and Bentley
wants, indeed, nothing but truth to be excellent; but the
picture of the former in his monstrous helmet, and the latter
in his patchwork mail, yield in ludicrousness to the idea of
the author of the Pindaric Odes presuming to ridicule the
author of Absalom and Achitophel, and the inglorious stu¬
dent of Trinity College, Dublin, entering the lists against
the pride of Trinity College, Cambridge, on a question of
classical scholarship. It is, however, to his credit that his
learning was somewhat greater than that of any other
writer on his side, and his pretensions incomparably less.
Swift’s next literary labour, though accomplished with
credit, proved less serviceable to his fortune than he had
anticipated. This was his edition of Temple’s posthumous
works, a charge bequeathed to him as a valuable legacy.
They appeared with a dedication to King William, which
was to have made the editor a prebendary. A petition to
this effect miscarried, as he always believed, through the
negligence or ill-will of the nobleman who undertook to
present it. He may have been mistaken, as William’s
esteem for Temple, notoriously not very great, still sur¬
passed his regard for Swift and complimentary dedications.
Be this as it may, he had become too important to be over¬
looked, and soon obtained the post of secretary and chaplain
to Earl Berkeley, one of the Lords Justices of Ireland. The
better half of this appointment, however, escaped him on his
arrival in that country, Ins secretaryship being transferred
to a Mr Bushe, on the pretext of the incompatibility of
such a post with clerical functions. Bushe, indeed, seems
to have been much better qualified to realise the popular
ideal of a dispenser of official patronage; for when Lord
Berkeley had at length an opportunity of recompensing
Swift’s disappointment by the gift of the deanery of Derry,
the secretary’s influence was successfully exerted in favour of
another clergyman, who had gained his interest by the judi¬
cious outlay of a thousand pounds. With bitter indigna¬
tion Swift threw up his chaplainship, but was ultimately re¬
conciled to his patron by the presentation to the rectory of
Agher, in Meath, with the united vicarages of Laracor and
Rathbeggin. For the first time in his life he might now
call himself his own master, and had an opportunity of ex¬
hibiting, free from suspicion of external constraint, that stern
regard to duty which constituted the noblest and not the
least prominent feature of his character. In an age of
general laxity—in a priest of an alien church, whose most Swift,
energetic servants commonly succumbed to the mortifying
conviction of their uselessness, and the detestation they
excited among the people for whom they laboured—the
parishioners of Laracor found a clergyman more censurable
for the ostentatious discharge than the easy neglect of his
duty, and heard, or might have heard, service three times a
week. The energy, however, which probably gained the
respect, certainly failed to influence the convictions of his
Catholic flock. We have his own authority for reckoning
his average congregation at “half a score;” and on one
occasion his clerk Roger was his only auditor. In fact, his
exertions in the pulpit were more meritorious than his
achievements ; he entirely lacked the fire, the self-oblivion,
the expansive geniality of the orator. He himself charac¬
terised his discourses as “pamphlets;” and if meant to
imply their arid and argumentative character, the criticism
is indisputably just. It must be added that they are no
models for pamphleteers even, and his resolution to ex¬
change theology for politics must appear fully justified on a
comparison of these inconclusive essays with another per¬
formance of the same period. The Discourse on the Dis¬
sensions in Athens and Rome, written in the Whig interest,
and intended as a dissuasive from the pending impeach¬
ment of Somers and three other noblemen, received the
honour, extraordinary for the maiden attempt of a young
politician, of being universally attributed to Somers himselfi
or to Burnet, the latter of whom found a public disavowal
necessary. Three years later appeared a more remarkable
work. Clearness, cogency, masculine simplicity of diction,
are conspicuous in the pamphlet, but true creative power
told the Tale of a Tub. “ Good God ! what a genius I had
when I wrote that book!” was his own exclamation in his
latter years. Johnson correctly signalises a distinction be¬
tween the style of this and of his other humorous writings ;
at the same time, the difference lies rather in accidentals than
essentials. Its merits and faults are the merits and faults of
youth—the youth of a Titan, who extravagates and luxu¬
riates in the wantonness of strength, and in careless magni¬
ficence showers away the energies which maturity would
have circumscribed within a single channel, and directed to
a definite end. Viewed simply with reference to its literary
characteristics, the work may be called a prose Don Juan ;
and as in that marvellous hybrid between epos and satire,
ostentatious planlessness, laxity of structure, and digression
for digression’s sake, become ultimately somewhat fatiguing.
As the fascination of Byron’s poem for the general reader
is summed up in Julia and Haidee, so, of all the humorous
ideas lavished in the Tale of a Tub, the three supernatural
coats and Lord Peter’s quintessential loaf have alone taken
a firm hold of the popular imagination. Either, it is true,
is sufficient for one man’s fame. A$ to the charges of pro¬
fanity drawn down upon Swift by the reckless exuberance
of his humour, it is easier to understand how they should
have come to be made than why his biographers should
have condescended to refute them.
Before the publication of the Tale of a Tub, Swift had
taken a step destined to exercise a most important influence
on his life, by inviting two ladies to Laracor. Hester
Johnson, a dependent of Sir William Temple’s, whose ac¬
quaintance he had made in the latter’s family, and whom he
has immortalised as “ Stella,” came over with her chaperon,
Mrs Dinglejr, and was soon permanently domiciled in his
neighbourhood. The melancholy tale of Swift’s attach¬
ments will be more conveniently narrated in another place,
and is only alluded to here for the sake of chronology.
Meanwhile the sphere of his intimacies was rapidly widen¬
ing. He was a frequent visitor to London, and counted
Pope, Steele, and Addison among his friends. The suc¬
cess of his pamphlet gained him ready access to all Whig
circles; but already his confidence in that party was shaken,
SWIFT.
and he was be^innin^ to meditate that change of sides parlance, leading article. The sole authorship of such a
r h Lrdrawn^Twn upon him so much but such wholly publication was consequently quite possible to a writer of
which has drawn down u o moderate industry, and the enlistment of such a partisan m
It day corresponded to the establishment ofa new weekly
n ^llh of Ena^nd Mal and On the Reasonableness of organ in ours. Till Swift’s access,on to therr cause, more-
a The vfta“ differed among the friends of the over, the preponderance of intellect had been decidedly
Hanover succesSn were not political, but ecclesiastical, against the Tories. To have found a writer capable of
Fmm this ooin of view, Swift’s sympathies were entirely combating and even overthrowing Addison and Steele, was
wdh the Tories As a minister of'the Church, he felt his for the ministry of that day what the miraculous advent of
dot and Ms Interest equally concerned in the support of a new Times, ant pedal to the old in a 1 but <f«rt, would
her'cause; nor could he fail to discover the inevitable ten- now be to an administration powerfully assailc j'j; 1
Swift.
dency of Whig doctrines, whatever caresses individual
Whigs might bestow on individual clergymen, to abase
the whole Establishment, by dispelling the last gleams of
that aureole of mystic reverence so irrecoverably dimmed at
the Reformation. Utterly incapable of either rising to an
elevated conception of religion, or of regarding the interests
of the Church from a cosmopolitan point of view, he consid¬
ered her as a corporation, and advocated her cause in the
spirit of an attorney. One of his pamphlets, written about
this time, contains his recipe for the promotion of religion,
and is of itself a sufficient testimony to the extreme mate¬
rialism of his views. Censorships and penalties are among
the means he recommends; and to him the city owes in
great measure the fifty new churches of which it is now a
problem how to get rid. His pen was exerted to better
purpose in the Argument against Abolishing Christianity,
a piece of irony most consummate and inimitable.
From February 1708 to April 1709 Swift was in London,
urging the claims of the Irish clergy to an inci eased en¬
dowment upon the Godolphin administration. His having
been selected for such a commission shows that he was
not yet regarded as a deserter from the W higs, although
the ill success of his representations probably helped to
make him one. By November 1710 he vyas again domi¬
ciled in London, and in the first pages of his remarkable
Journal to Stella we find him depicting the decline of \\ hig
credit, and complaining of the cold reception accoided him
by Godolphin, whose penetration had doubtless detected the
precariousness of his allegiance. Within a few weeks he
had become the lampooner of the fallen treasurer, the bosom
friend of Oxford and Bolingbroke, and the wliter of the
Examiner, a journal established as the exponent of Tory
views. He was now a power in the state, the^ intimate
friend and recognised equal of the first writers of the day,
the associate of ministers on a footing of perfect coidiality
and familiarity. By his own account, his credit had pro¬
cured the fortune of more than forty deserving or unde-
journal. Given Swift’s indispensableness to the ministers,
he had it in his power to determine the nature of his social
relations with them ; and it will readily be inferred that he
was not the man to rest contented with anything short of
precise and almost ostentatious equality, Here, again, the
circumstances of the time were in his favour. Like the
France of Louis Philippe, the England pf Anne was the
paradise of political adventurers. Ancient names were
erased or eclipsed, old notabilities ostracised, the leading
men held positions to which they could not have aspired
at a more settled period, and which fresh adventurers were
preparing to occupy in their turn. 1 his community of
character, of history, and of destiny, engendered a frank
and genial tone in political circles. Men were quick to
discern and esteem in others the qualities which had wrought
out greatness for themselves. As officers and privates be¬
come intimates on the field of battle, so servility and
assumption were forgotten in the excitement of the time.
Great as was Swift’s merit towards his party as conductoi
of the Examiner, it was surpassed by that belonging to
him as author of the two famous pamphlets, The Conduct
of the Allies, and The Barrier Treaty, devoured rather
than read by the nation. Here, again, circumstances weie
highly favourable to him. For eight years the great cap-
tarn of the age had fed the country with a succession of
triumphs, till exultation had become satiety. One last
poignant and exquisite relish remained—to be told that all
these conquests had been mac^e for ungrateful allies, and that
England was the worst used as well as the most victorious
nation upon earth. To have profited by Marlborough s
genius was much; to have found a pretext for disowning
obligation even more. "1 he victor of Blenheim s private
character was more assailable than his military conduct,
and it was easy for Swift to extenuate the popular ingratitude
which must soon have manifested itself, with a justification
or without. The necessity of peace had, indeed, become as
clear as the futility of expecting peace at the hands of Go-
serving cHente^'midth'e'enviousbut graphic description of dolpto and Marlborough ; so Aa, Swift unquestionably
his demeanour preserved to us by Bishop Rennet,1 attests rendered Ins country a service, while he wreaked his <ury '
, v ^ j;1 i •   Wc tit on thp airs hp the fallen statesmen with the sinister exultation of a morose
the real dignity of his position no less than the airs he
thought fit to assume in consequence. The cheerful,
almost jovial, tone of his letters to Stella evinces his fu
contentment; nor was he one to be moved to grabtude or
small mercies. To understand this extraordinary influence,
never since vouchsafed to a politician precluded by his pio-
fession from serving his party with his voice as well as his
pen, two or three circumstances peculiar to the time must
be taken into account. Since the age of Anne, the im¬
mense extension of the area of politics has necessitated a
proportionate division of labour among political wiiteis. No
one pen could discuss, no single understanding embrace, the
various subjects of which the press now takes cognisance.
Every influential journal possesses a large staff of contri¬
butors, and must represent some nice shade or peculiarity
of opinion. In Swift’s time journalism was a more simple
matter. Daily papers merely reported the news of the
day; the higher class journals appeared weekly, and were
then entirely occupied with a single essay, or, in our present
the fallen statesmen with the sinister exultation of a morose
and unbelieving nature, delighting in nothing moie than
the abasement of great achievements and great names.
Generous men like Oxford and Bolingbroke cannot have
been unwilling to reward so serviceable a friend, especially
when their own interest lay in keeping him in England.
Notwithstanding, therefore, some dubious expressions in
Swift’s letters, natural to the deferred hope, we need not
doubt their having actually used their best efforts to obtain
for him the vacant see of Hereford. Swift, however, had
formidable antagonists in the Archbishop of ^ ork, whom
the Tale of a Tub had scandalized, and who had previously
frustrated the instances of Godolphin for his promotion, and
in the Duchess of Somerset, whom he had inconsiderately
lampooned. Charles the Second had not been more amen¬
able than Anne to the influence of female favourites, and
it must be considered a proof of the strong interest made
for Swift, that she was eventually persuaded to appoint
him to the deanery of St Patrick’s, Dublin, vacant by the
1 Keimet particularly notices his zeal in procuring subscribers for the works of “ one Mr Pope (a Papist’ ).
SWIFT.
873
Swift, removal of Bishop Sterne to Dromore. In June 1713
he set out to take possession of his benefice, from which he
was speedily recalled by the dissensions between the chiefs
of his party. His exertions in behalf of the Irish clergy,
it should be observed, had been fully successful with the
Tory ministry, and his disgust was not small on finding the
gratitude of his clients incommensurate with their obli¬
gations.
He found affairs in a desperate condition on his return.
The Queen’s demise was evidently at hand, and the same
instinctive good sense which had ranged the nation on the
side of the Tories, when Tories alone could terminate a
fatiguing war, rendered it Whig when Tories manifestly
could not be trusted to maintain the Protestant succession.
In any event the occupants of office could merely have had
the choice of risking their heads in an attempt to exclude
the Elector of Hanover, or of waiting patiently till he should
come and eject them from their posts; yet they might
have remained formidable, could they have remained united.
To the indignation with which he regarded Oxford’s refusal
to advance him in the peerage, the active secretary added
an old disgust at the treasurer’s pedantic and dilatory form¬
alism, as well as his evident propensity, while leaving his
colleague the fatigues, to engross for himself the chief credit
of their administration. Their schemes of policy diverged
as widely as their characters ; Bolingbroke’s brain teemed
with the wildest plans, which Oxford might have more
effectually discountenanced had he been prepared with any¬
thing in their place. Swift’s endeavours after an accom¬
modation were as fruitless as unremitting. There is no
necessity so evident, no community of interest so radical,
no entreaty so powerful, as to reconcile an able man to one
whom he despises, or a proud man to one by whom he feels
himself despised. Swift’s mortification was little likely to
temper the habitual virulence of his pen, which rarely pro¬
duced anything more acrimonious than the attacks he at
this period directed against Burnet and his former friend,
Steele. One of his pamphlets against the latter (The
Public Spirit of the Whigs) was near involving him in a
prosecution; some invectives against the Scotch having
proved so exasperating to the peers of that nation, that they
repaired in a body to the Queen to demand the punishment
of the author, of whose identity there could be no doubt,
although, like all Swift’s writings, except the Proposal for
the Extension of Religion, the pamphlet had been published
anonymously. The immediate withdrawal of the offensive
passage, and a sham prosecution instituted against the
printer, extricated Swift from his danger.
Meanwhile the crisis had arrived, and the discord of
Oxford and Bolingbroke had become patent to all the
nation. Foreseeing, as is probable, the impending fall of
the former, Swift retired to Upper Letcombe, in Berkshire,
and there spent some weeks in the strictest seclusion. This
leisure was occupied in the composition of his remarkable
pamphlet, Free Thoughts on the State of Public Affairs,
which indicates his complete conversion to the bold policy
of Bolingbroke. The utter exclusion of Whigs as well as
Dissenters from office, the remodelling of the army, the
imposition of the most rigid restraints on the heir to the
throne,—such were the measures which, by recommending,
Swift tacitly admitted to be necessary to the triumph of his
party. If he were serious, it can only be said that the
desperation of his circumstances had momentarily troubled
the lucidity of his understanding; if the pamphlet were
merely intended as a feeler after public opinion, it is sur¬
prising that he did not perceive how irretrievably he was
ruining his friends in the eyes of all moderate men. Bo¬
lingbroke’s daring spirit, however, recoiled from no extreme,
and, fortunately for Swift, he added so much of his own
to the latter’s MS., that the author was obliged to recall a
production which might not improbably have cost him his
YOL. xx.
liberty and his benefice. This incident but just anticipated Swift,
the revolution which, after Bolingbroke had enjoyed a
three days’ triumph over Oxford, drove him into exile and'
prostrated his party, but enabled Swift to perform the
noblest action of his life. Almost the first acts of Boling¬
broke’s ephemeral premiership were to order him a thou¬
sand pounds from the exchequer, and despatch him the
most flattering invitations. The same post brought a letter
from Oxford, soliciting Swift’s company in his retirement;
and, to the latter’s immortal honour, he hesitated not an
instant in preferring the solace of his friend to the offers of
St John. When, a few days afterwards, Oxford was in
prison and in danger of his life, Swift begged to share his
captivity; and it was only on the offer being declined that
he finally directed his steps towards Ireland, where he was
very ill received. The draught on the Exchequer was
intercepted by the Queen’s death.
Oxford was not the only friend for whom Swift proved
capable of entertaining a fraternal regard; his intimacy
with Pope and Arbuthnot was creditable to all three. At
the epoch of the fall of Marlborough they had joined in
writing The History of John Bull, of which, however, by
far the largest share belongs to Arbuthnot, whose broad,
genial humour, better adapted to conciliate the reader’s
sympathy than to overawe him by a display of intellectual
power, is as unlike as possible to Swift’s scathing thunder¬
bolts, and deluges of gall and vitriol. On one chapter,
indeed, that recommending the education of all blue-eyed
children in depravity for the public good, it is impossible to
avoid the verdict, Aut Decanus aut Diabolus. Some time
before the fall of the Tory administration, the three friends
were again united in writing Martinus Scriblerus, a satire
whose pleasing geniality again betrays Arbuthnot’s prin¬
cipal share in its composition. Swift may have contributed
one of the digressions, and two passages in ridicule of his
old enemies the mediaeval logicians. In the masterly
Treatise on the Bathos, the finical but intense touch of
Pope is very observable. Swift’s literary partialities occa¬
sioned several other satirical pamphlets, such as the cruel
attack on John Dennis: he is more agreeable, though not
more amusing, when following the bent of his own humour
in ridiculing the impostures of the almanac-makers and
the eccentricities of Whiston, and otherwise treading with
no unequal pace in the track of “ Eupolis atque Cratinus,
Aristophanesque poetae.” Many of his best poems belong
to this period; a more laboured work, his Memorial to
Harley, recommending the regulation of the English lan¬
guage by an academy, is chiefly remarkable as evincing
the deference paid to French taste by the most original
English writer of his day. To sum up the incidents of this
eventful section of his life, it was during it that he lost his
mother and sister; the first, always most tenderly beloved
and dutifully honoured, by death ; the second by an im¬
prudent marriage, which, though making her a liberal
allowance, he never forgave.
Swift’s misfortunes had hitherto been no other than may
well befall whoever embarks on the tempestuous ocean of
politics, but the real tragedy of his life was now at hand.
We have already mentioned his invitation of Hester John¬
son and Mrs Dingley to Ireland. Both before and after
his elevation to the deanery of St Patrick’s, these ladies
continued to reside in his vicinity, and superintend his
household during his absences in London. Such an inti¬
macy could not but originate unfavourable surmises, nor
would the most charitable easily conjecture why, with his
evident delight in the society of Stella (a dark-haired and
symmetrical beauty, endowed with excellent sense and
charming temper, and not more brilliant of eye than wit,
albeit a grievous offender against all rules of orthography),
he did not at once secure it to himself by the simple expe¬
dient of matrimony. It may, perhaps, appear in the sequel
5 s
874
SWIFT.
Swift.
that his conchict was not incapable of explanation, but it
proved none the less the fatal embitterment of his life, and
Stella’s, and vet another’s. During his long residence in
London, he had involuntarily kindled a consuming passion
in the breast of Esther Vanhomrigh, the Vanessa of his
poetry and correspondence, daughter of a deceased com¬
missioner of stores, and then residing in Bury Street, with
her mother and sister. The relation he in the first instance
assumed towards this young lady was, without doubt, that
of an instructor and literary mentor. Instinct might sug¬
gest, were experience silent, the facility with which the
teacher’s interest and the pupil’s affection may glide into
emotions of a warmer cast. In this instance, the lovers
were matched like coin and die. Of genuine love, at
least of the pure essence of the passion, disengaged from
all alloy of duty or personal advantage, Swift was constitu¬
tionally incapable. The finest and most exquisite emo¬
tions were dead in him, or had never lived. His breast
never admitted, or rather never needed to exclude, any
feeling incapable of expression in precise language, or of
vindicating itself at the bar of reason.1 To him a
wife would have been nothing more than a friend in a
peculiar relation, for which, after all, he could see no ne¬
cessity, and he probably found Stella and Vanessa’s cravings
for a closer bond both puzzling and vexatious. So remark¬
able a deficiency in one portion of the mental organisation
supposes an excessive development in some other. In
Swift, the atrophy of the affections was compensated by the
excrescence of intellectual pride. The surest way to his
heart was to suffer him to domineer, and, like most of her
sex, Vanessa was a born idolatress. Her character, suffi¬
ciently unfolded in the letters first published by Sir Walter
Scott," is that of a being all compact of enthusiasm and ima¬
gination. These were the genii that had first reared her
a splendid image of masculine perfection, and then filled up
the abyss between her ideal and Swift. If no submission
could disarm his tyranny, neither could any severity satiate
her passion for martyrdom. If his arrogance rejected the
idea of sacrifice for another’s sake as humiliation, her fer¬
vour would have cooled before a shrine that required no
victim. She speaks of his frowns with rapture, and reserves
her agonies for his indifference. Such intensity of passion
may well have captivated a mind formed to appreciate im¬
petuous strength ; such self-abandonment may have mo¬
mentarily eclipsed the quiet self-devotion of the absent
Stella. In the earlier part of his journal, addressed to the
latter, Swift lays bare his feelings with an impassioned un¬
restraint which renders it the best authority for his charac¬
ter in our possession. The concluding portions are com¬
paratively frigid ; Vanessa’s advances were clearly not dis¬
couraged as they should have been. Yet his regard for
Stella was not extinct, nor his ties such as he could break
without infamy. For fourteen years Stella had cheered,
comforted, amused him. For fourteen years she had lived
on patiently in the hope of one day becoming his wife,
careless of the slur her equivocal position was casting on
her reputation. That nothing might be wanting to his ob¬
ligations, he had already (in 1706) been the means of her
declining an advantageous offer of marriage; his under¬
standing would not allow him to overlook Ins duty, or his
conscience to acquiesce in its non-performance. If, while a
mysterious obstacle prevented his marriage, his weak¬
ness allowed him to become irremediably entangled with
Vanessa, the misery of his victims cannot have surpassed Swift,
his own. He probably hoped that his return to Ireland
would enable him to break off the connection, but he hoped
in vain. Vanessa’s mother died, and she followed him.
Thus was he involved in the most miserable embarrass¬
ment; still for a time he continued to temporise. At
length, unable to bear any more Stella’s mute reproach,
and his own consciousness of wrong, he gave a reluctant
consent to a private marriage, which was accordingly per¬
formed in the Deanery garden by the Bishop of Clogher.
This was in 1716. At the same time, he insisted on their
union being kept a strict secret, justifying a demand really
dictated by tenderness for Vanessa, and probably by an¬
other reason which he did not explain, on the most futile
and frivolous pretexts. Never more than a nominal wife,
the unfortunate Stella commonly passed for his mistress till
the day of her death, bearing her doom with uncomplaining
resignation, and consoled by unquestionable proofs of the
permanence of his affection, if his strange feeling for her
deserves the name. Meanwhile, his efforts were directed
to soothe Miss Vanhomrigh, to whom he addressed Cadenus1 2
and Vanessa, the best of his poems, and for whom he
sought to provide honourably in marriage, without either
succeeding in his immediate aim or in thereby opening her
eyes to the hopelessness of her passion. In 1717, probably
at his instance, she retired from Dublin, to Marley Abbey,
her seat at Celbridge. For three years she and Swift re¬
mained apart, but in 1720, on what occasion is uncertain,
he began to pay her regular visits. Sir Walter Scott found
the Abbey garden still full of laurels, several of which she
was accustomed to plant whenever she expected Swift,
and the table at which they had been used to sit was still
shown. But the catastrophe of her tragedy was at hand.
Worn out with his evasions, she at last (1722) took the
desperate step of writing to Stella, demanding to know the
nature of her connection with him, and this terminated the
melancholy history as with a clap of thunder. Stella re¬
plied by the avowal of her marriage, sent her rival’s letter
to Swift, and retired to a friend’s house. Swift rode down
to Marley Abbey with a terrible countenance, petrified
Vanessa by his frown, and departed without a word, fling¬
ing down a packet which only contained her own letter to
Stella. Vanessa died within a few weeks.
Five years afterwards (January 1727) Stella followed her
to the grave. Two months of intense agony, spent by
Swift in seclusion in the south of Ireland, had procured his
forgiveness; and the anguish which the gradual decay of
her health evidently occasioned him is sufficient proof of
the sincerity of his attachment, as he understood it. It is
a just remark of Mr Thackeray’s, that he everywhere half-
consciously recognises her as his better angel, and dwells
on her wit and her tenderness with a fondness he never
exhibits for any other topic. Yet he could never overcome
his repugnance to acknowledge their union till she lay on
her deathbed, when he was heard by Mrs Whiteway (his
cousin, a lady of fortune and talent, who, though not resid¬
ing with him, superintended his household during his latter
years) to say, Well, my dear, if you wish it, it shall be
owned. She answered, It is too late. A lock of her hair
is preserved, with the inscription in Swift’s handwriting,
most affecting in its apparent cynicism, Only a woman's
hair:!
Though the subject is delicate and invidious to the last
1 His debut as a lover had been unlucky. In 1694, while in Ireland, he had been smitten with a Miss Jane Waryng, whom he
straightway proceeded to idealise as “ Varina,” and woo in the high-flown style of the age. Varina then discouraged his suit on the
ground of ill-health, hut, two years afterwards, finding her constitution improved, or her matrimonial prospects uncertain, she made him
advances in her turn. Swift’s mind had also changed, and he could find no better way out of his dilemma than an ill-bred and insult¬
ing letter, affecting to accept her proposition on terms which he knew must put further correspondence out of the question.
2 An anagram of Lecanus. Someone observed to Stella that this Vanessa must have been an extraordinary woman on whom the Dean
could write so finely. “ I do not see that,” returned Stella, “ for” (alluding to one of Swift’s satirical pamphlets, a burlesque on Boyle.),
all the world knows that the Dean can write finely upon a broomstick 1”
' s w
Swift, degree, it would be a cruel offence against Swift’s memory
to refrain from adverting to the strong probability of the
mysterious impediment to his union with Stella having been
of a physical and, therefore, an insuperable description.
External evidence of this is necessarily wanting, but the
internal seems almost to amount to a moral certainty.
Without recourse to such a hypothesis, his conduct appears
inexplicable. The obstacles he alleged are palpable
evasions; his attachment to Vanessa will neither account
for his reluctance to contract a marriage with Stella before
his acquaintance with her rival, nor for his refusal to ac¬
knowledge it after the latter’s death. On the supposition
alluded to (powerfully corroborated by the entire absence
of erotic sentiment from his writings) the grounds of his
conduct are sufficiently obvious, and it can only be said
that he preferred the ruin of Stella’s happiness to an avowal
which nothing short of absolute compulsion has ever ex¬
torted from any man. It should also be remembered that
his natural insensibility to the refinements of passion must
have rendered it very difficult for him to realise the misery
he was occasioning. His conduct to Vanessa certainly re¬
mains unaffected by these considerations, and if there be
any to whom the voluntary and enthusiastic homage of
beauty is without allurement, these have undoubtedly
earned the right to pronounce a severe condemnation.
Yet even they should reflect that human actions are pro¬
perly estimated by their intrinsic character, not by their
consequences. Thousands have committed similar errors,
unexpiated by similar remorse; but the pangs of their
Vanessas have proved amenable to time and reason, and
their biographers (if any) have taken no cognisance of the
matter. The fervour of Vanessa’s passion was a terrible
misfortune for Swift; let it not be made his crime. With¬
out actually mitigating his culpability, a happier denouement
would have disarmed the austerity of his censors. It is
obvious that on our theory (which is also Sir Walter
Scott’s), the supposition of a criminal intercourse between
Swift and either Stella and Vanessa falls to the ground of
itself On any theory, it is unsupported by evidence, and
inconsistent with his character.
During the interval between the deaths of Vanessa and
Stella, Swift made three excursions to England, from the
last of which he was recalled by the tidings of Stella’s ill¬
ness. The same period witnessed the two greatest literary
successes of his life.
While yet hoping to gain an establishment in England
Swift had paid little attention to Irish affairs. His residence
at Dublin familiarised him with misery and misgovernment,
and having begun by hating and despising the Irish, he
finished by identifying himself with their cause. In the
pamphlet entitled A Proposal for the Universal Use of
Irish Manufactures (1720) he expressed himself with a
boldness that occasioned the prosecution of his printer. The
iniquitous conduct of the chief-justice secured a convic¬
tion ; but public feeling rose to a height that intimidated
the government, and no sentence was passed. This proved
but the prelude to more momentous incidents. In 1723, a
bribe to George the First’s mistress obtained for a person
named Wood the privilege of coining L.108,000 in halfpence
and farthings, and circulating the same throughout Ireland.
rI he Irish Parliament and executive not having been con¬
sulted at all, the patent proved as exasperating to the
Protestant governing class as to the oppressed Catholics.
[ F T. 875
It was then that Swift sent forth the seven famous letters Swift,
subscribed M. B., Drapier.1 These culminating produc- s—
tions of his pamphleteering genius must not be judged with
reference to the abstract merits of the question they dis¬
cussed. Wood was not a villain, or his coinage spurious,
or his patent ruinous or even pernicious to the country.
Ireland was assailed, not in her pocket, but in her independ¬
ence, which would have been no less affronted had Wood
proposed to distribute his coins at half-price. Undercover
of an attack on him, Swift denounced the whole system of
government, and first of Irishmen raised the cry, Ireland for
the Irish ! It elicirted a burst of feeling comparable to that
which Charles the First had excited in England bv levying
ship-money, or James the Second by imprisoning the seven
bishops. Soon Swift took a wider range, and denounced
abuses without disguise. The public enthusiasm accom¬
panied him, and Walpole was told that it would take 10,000
men to effect his arrest. His printer was an easier victim.
Swift visited his prison in disguise, and listened unmoved
to the solicitations of the honest tradesman’s friends that he
would deliver himself by revealing his employer. The
might of public opinion soon brought more effectual and
honourable relief. Ere long the captive was liberated, the
patent withdrawn; and if Ireland suffered more than ever
from a want of small currency, she had, at all events, the
satisfaction of a victory over the Saxon. The Drapier was
toasted at every table,2 his head was made a sign, medals
were struck, and clubs instituted in his honour, and the
affection of his countrymen, for once wisely as well as warmly
bestowed, never forsook him till his death.
It was in 1726 that Gulliver rendered Swift immortal.
This, with Robinson Crusoe and Pilgrim's Progress, be¬
longs to the class of books whose very diffusion reacts against
their celebrity. The inimitable simplicity of these works at
once brings them into the hands of every child, kindles the
rapture with which every child peruses them, and occasions
the indifference with which he in after-life confounds them
with the other amusements of his infancy. Let the adult
reader recur to them, and he will find that, like the mira¬
culous coats in the Tale of a Tub, the companion of his
boyhood has grown up with his own intellectual stature, and
proves as adapted to his maturity as to his nonage. What
seemed in Gulliver the capricious freak of fancy now ap¬
pears as the most terrible of satires; the Genie emanci¬
pated from the vase. Other satirists have branded human
vices; Swift makes war on humanity itself. In Lilliput or in
Brobdingnag, in his laughter or his rage, human deformity
is still his theme ; man the object trampled upootJn his pas¬
sion, or dissected by his more deliberate virulence. The four
parts of Gulliver are related as strophe and antistrophe, the
second and fourth overwhelming with undisguised invec¬
tive the vices which the first and third had exhibited
indirectly, as by a parable. None of them could have been
the work of one endowed with any elevation of mind, any
perception of the lovely, or any insight into the methods
and purposes of Providence ; still less of one destitute of a
glowing love of rectitude and hatred of evil. It is needless
to dilate on the literary merits of a work unrivalled at once
for the charm of invention and the deception of reality,
whose gaiety can even procure oblivion of the furious
sarcasm that lacerates as with a lash of wires. Lucian is
left behind, and Voltaire surpassed by anticipation. Yet
something of a mechanical character always marks the pro-
1 Draper.
2 The following text was popularly applied when Swift appeared in danger of prosecution :—“ And the people said unto Saul, Shall
Jonathan die, who hath wrought this great salvation in Israel ? God forbid: as the Lord liveth, there shall not one hair of his head
fall to the ground, for he hath wrought with God this day. So the people rescued Jonathan, that he died not.'"’ (1 Sam. xiv. 45.) A
confidential servant, entrusted with the secret of the Drapier’s identity, once remained so long out on a frolic as to cause serious appre¬
hensions of his having gone to betray his master. On his return, the Dean turned him out of his house, declaring that he would not be
intimidated into submitting to insolence from any of his domestics. The man’s fidelity was proof against temptation and resentment and
when the danger was over, Swift received him again into his service, and treated him with marked kindness ever after.
876
SWIFT.
Swift.
ductions of ungenial minds. Gravity in absurdity is the great
peculiarity of Swift’s humour, and the power of his imagina¬
tion is less conspicuous in the multiplicity of his ideas
than in the inexhaustible variety he contrives to elicit from
a single thought. ,
The Drapier had shaken Ireland, but Gulliver amazed
all who could read English. Though the publication had
been anonymous, the authorship could not remain a secret,
and Swift began to hope that he might yet again play a part
on the theatre of politics. The journeys to England, already
mentioned, had been undertaken with this end in view,
the influence on which he principally relied being that of
Mrs Howard, the accomplished mistress of George the
Second. She seems to have been really desirous of assist¬
ing him, but to have wanted the power. It is no disgrace to
Swift’s penetration that he should have failed to appreciate
the tacit understanding established between the royal pair,
by which Caroline had, so to speak, bartered her consort’s
hand for his head, the control over his affections for the
management of his affairs. This grand mistake of relying
on the mistress instead of the wife, would of itself have
proved ruinous to his negotiation, even without the under¬
hand opposition of Sir Robert Walpole, who gave him fair
words, but secretly resolved to take good care how he pro¬
moted one who might be so formidable. At last his good
understanding with the court was destroyed by the audacious
forgery of some one who addressed insolent letteis to the
queen in his name, insisting on the claims of a certain Mis
Barber to her patronage. Full of mortification, he resigned
himself to be the frondeur of the Irish, instead of the con¬
fidant of the English administration. In one viceroy, Lord
Carteret, he found a congenial spirit, who frequently attended
to his applications in favour of deserving persons, and re¬
ceived and returned his sarcasms with good humour. “You
will not put me on such a board, my lord, because you know
that I would neither job, nor bribe, nor be bribed, nor waste
the public money, nor suffer other people to do any of
these things.” “ What you say,” replied Carteret, ‘ is
perfectly true, and therefore you must excuse me. At
other times his pleasantry was exercised at the expense of
the ecclesiastical authorities, whom he hated with all the
fury of one who thought he ought to be in their place, and
whose attempts to aggrandise themselves at the expense of
the inferior clergy he resisted with the ferocity of a tiger
and the stubbornness of a mule. w It is quite a mistake, he
would say, “ to blame the English government for sending
us bad bishops; it is invariably careful to select men of the
purest morals and most fervent piety. The misfortune is,
that as these exemplary prelates cross Hounslow Heath on
their way to their dioceses, they are invariably stopped and
murdered by the highwaymen, which unprincipled persons
assume their robes and their patents, and come over here
in their place, to the injury and scandal of true religion
among us!” He was also long active as a pamphleteer4
one of his productions of this period, the mock proposal to
fatten the children of poor persons for the market, being
perhaps the most masterly piece of irony he ever produced.
He likewise commenced a periodical in conjunction with
Sheridan, of which but few numbers were published, and
set on foot a scheme for relieving the distresses of the poorer
orders by means of small loans, which does not appear to
have been unsuccessful, and occasioned many most amus¬
ing adventures, which will be found detailed in Sir Walter
Scott’s Biography. His last public appearance was on a
financial question, in opposition to a scheme for ^gu atmg
the gold currency proposed by the real ruler of Ii eland,
Archbishop Boulter. On the day the measure took effect
the cathedral-bells were rung backwards, and a black flag
waved from the tower. For a time it was necessary to
guard the primate’s house, but when no evil effects fiom
his policy were discoverable, the agitation died away. Swift
had all his life been subject to violent attacks of giddiness
and deafness, occasioned probably by water on the brain,
but, as he fancied, by a surfeit of fruit at Moor Park. 1 his
year (1736) as he was writing the most virulent of his
pieces, the satire against the Irish Parliament entitled the
Legion Club, the fit seized him so fearfully that on his
recovery he determined to lay aside the pen for ever.
Nearly all the remainder of his existence was destined to
be passed in pain, aggravated by the perceptible decay of
his faculties, the consciousness of defeat in the great conflict
of his life, a growing distaste for society, and an incapacity
for intellectual recreation from the failure of his sight and
his obstinate resolution not to wear glasses. It was the
peculiar misery of his bodily suffering to engender mental
torture, which re-acted on the body in its turn. Sources
of consolation open to the weak and humble were closed
against his haughty spirit; his austerity rejected the sym¬
pathy which his affliction would have commanded ; his pride
disdained the literary greatness which, in the eyes of most,
richly recompensed the disappointments of his life. He
permitted, however, the publication of an imperfect edition
of his works, and in 1738 sent another anonymous pamphlet
into the world, the Polite Conversation, written several
years previously. It is a satire on the insipidity of common¬
place social intercourse, a collection, one would think, of
all the vapid trivialities and vulgar proverbs he had ever
heard in his life, thrown into a dramatic form with wonder¬
ful ingenuity, and garnished with a contemptuous preface.
His memory and observation are equally displayed in
another work designed for publication at this time, but
withheld till after his death, the 'womcaX Directions to
Servants. The imperturbable gravity of this performance
is worthy of Gulliver, and the amazement with which we
must view the immense accumvdation of minute particulars
is increased on discovering that it is, after all, only a frag¬
ment. During the last days of Anne he had written the
history of the Peace of Utrecht, subsequently continued to
the queen’s death, and this he now intended to publish, but
was dissuaded by his friends, who dreaded the effect of his
revelations, and the uncompromising ferocity of his attacks
on the living and the dead. It appeared ten years after
his decease, without creating much sensation. The corre¬
spondence of his declining years is very interesting, espe¬
cially his own letters and papers; the latter portion painfully
affecting from the evidence of constantly increasing infirmity
it contains. Johnson has commented severely on his and
his friends’ self-satisfaction and contempt for the rest of the
world; but this is the universal failing of literary cliques.
The poems he wrote between the death of Stella and the
interruption of the Legion Club are not all calculated
to do honour to his memory. Many are trivial, others coarse
and extravagantly indecent. A kind of cynicism grew upon
him in his latter years, and was increased by the gradual
deterioration of his society. As his faculties and political
importance declined, he found his equals in station less and
less disposed to submit to his despotism, and was driven to
tyranize over parasites, for whose amusement he sometimes
produced that of which it would be charity to suppose him
afterwards ashamed. Yet the Yahoo had been an imagina¬
tion of better days, and quite in keeping with the utter
want of refinement which, in strange contrast with the
scrupulous attention he paid to his person and apparel,
marked both his moral and intellectual character. Some
of his best friends, as the witty blunderer Sheridan, he
drove from him in his perverseness; others he was near
alienating by his freaks, as when he cut down a favourite
tree of Sir Arthur Acheson’s, and had to purchase his
pardon by an elegant apology in verse. Still, and long
after he could do no more for Irish liberty by voice or pen,
the popular veneration was as strong as ever. His birth¬
day was celebrated by illuminations, and when he wras
Swift.
SWIFT.
Swift, menaced by the bully Bettesworth, all Dublin seemed to
rise as one man in his defence. In Mrs Whiteway he had
a most sincere and judicious friend, whose affection he
returned, and of whose value, though he sometimes tried
her patience, he was fully conscious. Nothing in Lear sur¬
passes the pathos of the last letter he addressed to her.
“ I have been very miserable all night, and to-day extremely
deaf and full of pain. I am so stupid and confounded, that I
cannot express the mortification I am in both of body and mind.
All I can say is, that I am not in torture, but that I daily and
hourly expect it. Pray let me know how your health is, and your
family. I hardly understand one word I write. I am sure my
days will be very few^—few and miserable they must be,—I am,
for those few days, yours entirely, J. Swift.
“ If I do not blunder, this is Saturday, July 26, 1740.”
Early in 1741 it became necessary to place him under
restraint, and appoint guardians for his person and property.
Much of 1742 was passed in furious madness, aggravated
by intense bodily suffering from boils and tumours. Re¬
lease from pain brought a momentary interval of lucidity.
The causes of his insanity were rather physical than mental.
After his death his brain was found loaded with water,
and an operation, if it had not killed him, would probably
have restored his reason. Nothing was attempted, and he
quickly sank into a lethargy, which, with a few occasional
gleams of consciousness, continued to his death. It is a
melancholy comfort to peruse the few affecting anecdotes
which go to prove that his faculties were rather suspended
than destroyed 1—
“ After the Dean had continued silent a whole year in this help¬
less state of idiocy, his housekeeper went into his room on the 30th
of November in the morning, telling him that it was his birthday,
and that bonfires and illuminations were preparing to celebrate it
as usual; to this he immediately replied, ‘ It is all folly, they had
better let it alone.’
“ Upon his housekeeper removing a knife, as he was going to
catch at it, he shrugged up his shoulders and said, ‘ I am what I
am,’ and in about six minutes repeated the same word two or three
times.
“ In the year 1744, he now and then called his servant by his
name, and once attempted to speak to him; but not being able to
express his meaning, he showed signs of much uneasiness, and at
last said, ‘ I am a fool.’ When the same servant was breaking a
hard, large coal, he said, ‘ That is a stone, you blockhead.’
“ From this time he was perfectly silent till October 19, 1745,
and then died, without the least pang or convulsion, in the seventy-
eighth year of his age.”
He was interred in his cathedral, with this epitaph, written
by himself—“ Hie depositum est corpus Jonathan Swift,
S.T.P., hujus ecclesiae cathedralis decani:, ubi sasva indig-
natio ulterius cor lacerare nequit. Abi, viator, et imitare,
si poteris, strenuum pro virili libertatis vindicem.” With a
presentiment of his fate, he had bequeathed his fortune to
found an hospital for idiots and lunatics.
As with all authors of genuine merit, Swift’s character as
a writer is the counterpart of his character as a man. It may
be summed up in a phrase—strength without elevation. Na¬
ture intended him for the prince of satirists and pamphleteers,
and her wisdom was not more conspicuous in what she gave
than in what she denied. Satirists and politicians must
not see too far. It is not their business to search out
principles, but to lash the ephemeral follies, or criticise
the no less ephemeral transactions of their own day. Swift
has done nothing for the science of politics. The force of
his political essays is of genius, but their substance mere
shrewdness and common sense. In all his political writings
there is hardly anything like a theory, an abstract principle,
877
or a speculation. His suggestions are mere expedients ; Swift,
his expedients coarse and material. Of abstract right, as
distinguished from personal integrity, he seems to have had
no conception. Disabilities on dissenters seem to him as
much in place as saddles on horses. Liberal in his estimate
of human action, his views of human opinion are prejudices
below the dignity of superstitions. He habitually postpones
mankind to his country, his country to his party, and his
party to himself. This narrowness of thinking intensified
his powers. Like a river in a rapid, his mighty intellect
foamed with irresistible force through its contracted channel.
To considerations of an elevated nature he is inaccessible,
and the antagonist who descends to his own ground is
swept away. He overthrows, tramples, breaks in pieces,
and tears to tatters. Miserably shorn of some of the highest
prerogatives of the human mind, the genius he still pos¬
sesses cannot be contemplated without awe and admiration.
It is like the interrupted pile of Babel—the foundation of
a structure that should have reached to heaven. In auda¬
city of demeanour and majesty of port he yields to none of
the giants of mind. Milton in his singing robes does not
offer a grander image of intellectual force than Swift be¬
spattering ex-ministers, and ringing the changes on bad
halfpence. It was as though some sublime spirit, a second
Faust, had parted with his better soul for thirty years of
uncontrolled dominion. What seems his weakness to us
was his strength among his contemporaries. He walked
with his age, and did not outrun it. His lip breathed ever
in the popular ear; he did not, advanced out of sight, halloo
feebly from a distance. Even with us, his narrowness of
view redeems his one grand and classical production from
disgust. The misanthropy of Gulliver would be detestable,
were it not so intensely real. Could the book possibly be
the production of one of large views or elevated soul, it
would be the production of one who had sinned against
light, and deliberately sat down to libel and blacken his
species. Swift is terribly in earnest, and writes as much in
sorrow as in anger. His style is the image of his mind. In
conciseness, directness, in plain sense and nervous vigour,
it is worthy of the great writers of the preceding generation.
But he has not their high thoughts to dress up in appro¬
priate majesty, and disdains to trick out his own petty ones.
He writes level to the capacities of his readers, spurning
impassioned appeal and metaphor. After Barrow or Tay¬
lor, a paragraph of his is like a cathedral after the Refor¬
mation—the gorgeous windows shattered, the imposing
ritual discarded, the arches blocked up with very comfort¬
able pews. The homeliness of his predilections corre¬
sponded to the homeliness of his language; in all his vo¬
lumes there is not one allusion to Shakspeare. On the
other hand, his Pindaric Odes are the sole instance he has
given of absurdity or affectation. Efforts after sublimity or
picturesqueness have sometimes made other writers verbose,
meretricious, nonsensical. Swift lay under no temptation
to such dulcia vitia. Whatever he says is, for him, abso¬
lutely and literally, not merely figuratively or transcendent-
ally, true; and so great is the power of earnestness, that
his invectives against obscure scoundrels, or diatribes on
the passing interests of the day, may even now be read
with more pleasure than many a work of genuine imagina¬
tion. In what may be called his mental build, he is start¬
lingly original; but, strictly examined, his imagination will
appear more distinguished for energy than fecundity. The
original ideas he does possess are very striking, and he
usually makes the most of them, and that with the careless
1 His last composition was an epigram on a building shown to him when he was taken out for an airing :—
“ Behold a proof of Irish sense,
Here Irish wit is seen,
When nothing’s left that’s worth defence,
They build a magazine ! ”
878 S W I
Swift, profusion of a fountain sending forth its waters, not like a
gold-beater, covering the amplest possible space with the
thinnest possible leaf. Yet he is a master of permutation
and combination; he rarely lets an idea go till he has
drained it to the very marrow. A thought which with
another might have flashed for a moment in an epigram,
may with him be heard detonating and exploding through¬
out a whole pamphlet, and each report adds something to
the general effect. Still there is nothing strained or far¬
fetched about his wit or his argument; he is never ingenious
for ingenuity’s sake. He is as clear-headed and prompt as
copious; each of his numberless strokes falls at the light
moment, and in the right place; by the time he has done
his adversary (for all his writings are directly or indirectly
polemical) is a mangled mass of bruises and blood.
As the characteristic of his writings is vigour without
loftiness, so the definition of his moral nature is rectitude
without amiability. His virtues were many and great, but
coarse, rude, and exaggerated, like well-formed letters
blotted by a hasty'writer. He possessed the noblest inde¬
pendence of character, but knew not how to assert it without
rage against his superiors, and arrogance towards his infe¬
riors and equals. In truth, he had so little faith in excel¬
lence, that he hardly believed in his own superiority, unless
demonstrated by the envy or the servility of others. The
most punctual of men in the fulfilment of all his obligations,
he discharged them so harshly and ungraciously that no one,
probably, has ever been influenced by his example. Ex¬
cessively charitable, though frugal and acquisitive,1 he rarely
gave without affronting the recipient. He was one capable
of warm attachments, who spoke uncivilly of his friend to
his face, and unkindly behind his back; the benefactor of
his domestics, and their tyrant; the lover of two women,
whose hearts he broke. He possessed not the least delicacy
or refinement of sentiment; and his behaviour to others,
especially to females, showed that he expected none from
them. His virtues were unattractive, his failings repulsive ;
yet he was capable on occasion of generous deed or mag¬
nanimous forbearance. If he sometimes acted as a selfish
or cold-hearted man might have done, the reason consisted
partly in the overweening self-esteem that blinded him to
his own faults, but more in the sluggish imagination that
disqualified him from realising the feelings of others. If
his frowns and his bitterness brought misery among his in¬
timates, in his writings they were usually employed for the
public good. No writer has scourged so many villains,
scoffed at so many blockheads, exposed so many impos¬
tures, or assailed so many abuses. He was marvellously
obtuse on many points of morality and policy; but where
he did see evil, he hated it like one who had crossed his
ambition. There is something wonderfully massive and
sterling in his character; he was above taking pains with
his virtues, and allowed himself no affectation but that of
some faults he did not possess. His fierceness and auste¬
rity of disposition are unspeakably imposing. Others have
undergone more romantic vicissitudes of fortune, but few
careers are illumined with so wild and tempestuous a splen¬
dour. His prosperity is dazzling; his misery appalling.
He is not to be thought of without wonder, and reverence,
and repugnance, and pity most of all. He is a volcano
fearful in the long suppression of its smouldering fires;
amazing in its sudden blaze and gigantic illumination ; most
awful of all in its silence and ashes, and stupendous, soli¬
tary gloom.
Swift’s religious sentiments have furnished occasion for
much dispute. The prayers found in his handwriting, in-
S W I
deed, sufficiently establish his piety, and the exceptions Swimming,
taken to the levities of his satiric writings can only have ori-
ginated in a profound ignorance of the nature of humour
and humourists. It is impossible, however, to get rid of an
indefinable impression of a certain uncomfortableness in
his relations towards the established religion. There is no
reason to suppose him unconvinced by the external evidences
of Christianity, which in his day had hardly been impugned.
But no Christian minister has displayed less of the meek
spirit of his creed; and the consciousness of a secret dis¬
harmony with what he was forced to inculcate and out¬
wardly revere, will probably account for his uneasiness with¬
out imputing to him any definite opinion at variance with
his station in the church.
In person Swift was tall and commanding, with aquiline
features, a swarthy complexion, but an eye “ as azure as
the heavens.” The expression of his countenance was
stern in his gayest mood, and when angered his scowl was
awful.
Swift was not the man to encourage a Boswell, and his
own correspondence is the best authority for his life. Of his
contemporaries, we are principally indebted to his indiscrimi-
nating panegyrists, Delany and his own nephew Deane, and
his detractor, Lord Orrery, whose malevolence is said to be
owing to the discovery of the slight value the Dean set on
his acquaintance. Hawkesworth compiled the particulars of
his life, and published what was the standard edition of his
works till the appearance of Sir Walter Scott’s in 1814.
This edition can hardly be rendered more complete, and is
not likely to be soon supserseded. The biography prefixed
is based on Hawkesworth, but far more copiously and ele¬
gantly written. At the same time, it displays more dili¬
gence than vigour or penetration, and the author’s good¬
nature has certainly made him too indulgent to his hero.
Dr Johnson’s biography in the Lives of the Poets is the op¬
posite of Sir Walter Scott’s in all respects; a condensation
of Hawkesworth instead of an expansion; pregnant with
acute observations on Swift’s private and literary character,
but darkened throughout by an antipathy2 that greatly im¬
pairs its value. In our own day, Mr I hackeray has made
Swift the subject of an essay, most keen in its criticism,
most brilliant in its composition, and full of that geniality
and compassion which Swift alone wanted to have been as
admirable as formidable, and as happy as famous, (r. G.)
SWIMMING, the art of floating one’s self on water, Swimming
and at the same time making a progressive motion through
it. As swimming is not natural to man, it is evident that at ^
some period it must have been unknown among the human
race. Nevertheless there are no accounts of its origin to
be found in the history of any nation ; nor are there any
nations so barbarous but that the art of swimming is known
among them, and that in greater perfection than among
civilized people. It is probable, therefore, that the art,
though not absolutely natural, will always be acquired by
people in a savage state, from imitating the brute animals,
most of whom swim naturally. Indeed so much does this
appear to be the case, that very expert swimmers have re¬
commended it to those who wished to learn the art, to
keep some frogs in a tub of water constantly beside them,
and to imitate the motions by which they move through
that element.
The theory of swimming depends upon one very simple Depends
principle ; namely, that if a force be applied to any body, e
it will always move towards that side where there is the ^rlD
least resistance. Thus, if a person standing in a boat
pushes with a pole against the side or any other part of the
1 One of his last acts as Dean was to refuse a bargain which would have profited him to the detriment of his successors
2 It is, perhaps, not impossible that Johnson’s dislike to Swift may have arisen from his horror of insanity which he a ways dreaded
for himself, and which he would gladly attribute, in Swift’s case, to the perversion of the letter s temper The resemblance between
his own character and Swift’s, and the nature of their infirmities, was certainly sufficiently close to alarm him.
S W I M M 1 N G.
879
Swimming, vessel in which he stands, no motion will ensue; for as
s-—’■'v'™"""' much as he presses in one direction with the pole, just so
much does the action of his feet, on which the pressure of
the pole must ultimately rest, push the vessel the other
way : but if, instead of the side of the vessel, he pushes
the pole against the shore, then only one force acts upon
it, namely, that of the feet; which being resisted only
by the water, the boat begins to move from the shore.
Now the very same thing takes place in swimming, whether
the animal be man, quadruped, bird, or fish. If we consi¬
der the matter simply, we may suppose an animal in such
a situation that it could not possibly swim : thus, if we cut
off the fins and tail of a fish, it will indeed float in conse¬
quence of being specifically lighter than the water, but
cannot make any progressive motion, or at least but very
little, in consequence of wriggling its body; but if we al¬
low it to keep any of its fins, by striking them against the
water in any direction the body moves the contrary way,
just as the boat moves the contrary way to that in which
the oars strike the water. It is true, that as the boat is
but partly immerged in the water, the resistance is compa¬
ratively less than when a frog or even any other quadruped
swims; but a boat could certainly be rowed with oars
though it wrere totally immerged in water, only with less
velocity than when it is not. When a man swims, he in
like manner strikes the water with his hands, arms, and
feet; in consequence of which the body moves in a direc¬
tion contrary to the stroke. Upon this principle, and on this
only, a man may either ascend, descend, or move obliquely
in any possible direction, in the water. One would think,
indeed, that as the strength of a man’s arms and legs is
but small, he could make but very little way by any stroke
he could give the water, considering the fluidity of that
element. Nevertheless it is incredible what expert swim¬
mers will perform in this way ; of which Dr Forster gives
a most remarkable instance in the inhabitants of Otaheite,
whose agility, be tells us, was such, that when a nail was
thrown overboard, they would jump after it into the sea,
and never fail to catch it before it reached the bottom.
As to the practice of swimming, there are but few direc¬
tions which can be given. The great obstacle is the na¬
tural dread which people have of being drowned ; and this
it is impossible to overcome by any thing but accustoming
ourselves to go into the water. With regard to the real
danger of being drowned, it is but little ; and on innumer¬
able occasions arises entirely from the terror above men¬
tioned, as will appear from the following observations by
Dr Franklin.
Observa- “ 1st, That though the legs, arms, and head, of a human
tions by Dr body, being solid parts, are specifically somewhat heavier
Franklin. tjian water, yet the trunk, particularly the upper
part, from its hollowness, is so much lighter than water, as
that the whole of the body, taken together, is too light to
sink wholly under water, but some part will remain above
until the lungs become filled with water; which happens
‘ from drawing water into them instead of air, when a person
in the fright attempts breathing while the mouth and nos¬
trils are under water.
“ 2dly, That the legs and arms are specifically lighter
than salt water, and will be supported by it; so that a hu¬
man body would not sink in salt water though the lungs
were filled as above, but from the greater specific gravity
* of the head.
“ 3dly, That therefore a person throwing himself on his
back in salt water, and extending his arms, may easily lie
so as to keep his mouth and nostrils free from breathing ;
and by a small motion of his hands may prevent turning, if
he should perceive any tendency to it.
“ 4thly, That in fresh water, if a man throws himself on
his back near the surface, he cannot long continue in that
situation, but by a proper action of his hands on the water.
If he uses no such action, the legs and lower part of the Swimming,
body will gradually sink till he comes into an upright posi- ''-"'v—
tion, in which he will continue suspended, the hollow of the
breast keeping the head uppermost.
“ 5thly, But if in this erect position the head is kept up¬
right above the shoulders, as when we stand on the ground,
the immersion will, by the weight of that part of the head
that is out of the water, reach above the mouth and nos¬
trils, perhaps a little above the eyes; so that a man cannot
long remain suspended in water with his head in that po¬
sition.
“ Gthly, The body continued suspended as before, and
upright, if the head be leaned quite back, so that the face
looks upwards, all the back part of the head being then un¬
der water, and its weight consequently in a great measure
supported by it, the face w’ill remain above water quite free
for breathing, will rise an inch higher every inspiration, and
sink as much every expiration, but never so low as that the
water may come over the mouth.
“ 7thly, If therefore a person unacquainted with swim¬
ming, and falling accidentally into the water, could have
presence of mind sufficient to avoid struggling and plung¬
ing, and let the body take this natural position, he might
continue long safe from drowning, till perhaps help would
come ; for as to the clothes, their additional weight while
immersed is very inconsiderable, the water supporting it;
though when he comes out of the water, he would find them
very heavy indeed.”
The method of learning to swim is as follows. The per- His me¬
son must walk into water so deep that it will reach to the thod of
breast. He is then to lie down gently on the belly, keep-^earn'n^t0
ing the head and neck perfectly upright, the breast ad van- swim»
cing forward, the thorax inflated, and the back bent; then
withdrawing the legs from the bottom, and stretching them
out, strike the arms forwards in unison with the legs. Swim¬
ming on the back is somewhat similar to that on the belly,
but with this difference, that although the legs are employ¬
ed to move the body forwards, the arms are generally un¬
employed, and the progressive motion is derived from the
movement of the legs. In diving, a person must close his
hands together, and, pressing his chin upon his breast, make
an exertion to bend with force forwards. While in that
position, he must continue to move with rapidity under the
surface ; and whenever he chooses to return to his former
situation, he has nothing to do but to bend back his head,
and he will immediately return to the surface.
It is very common for novices in the art of swimming to
make use of corks or bladders to assist in keeping the body
above water. Some have utterly condemned the use of
these ; Dr Franklin however allows that they may be of
service for supporting the body while one is learning what
is called the strohe, or that manner of drawing in and strik¬
ing out the hands and feet that is necessary to produce pro¬
gressive motion. “ But,” says he, “ you will be no swimmer
till you can place confidence in the power of the vrater to
support you: I would therefore advise the acquiring that
confidence in the first place, especially as I have known se¬
veral who, by a little of the practice necessary for that pur¬
pose, have insensibly acquired the stroke, taught as it were
by nature.
“ The practice I mean is this. Choosing a place where and ofae-
the water deepens gradually, walk coolly into it till it is up quiring
to your breast: then turn round your face to the shore, and confidence
throw an egg into the water, between you and the shore;
it will sink to the bottom, and be easily seen there if the
water is clear. It must lie in the water so deep as that you
cannot reach it to take it up but by diving for it. To en¬
courage yourself in order to do this, reflect that your pro¬
gress will be from deeper to shallower water; and that at
any time you may, by bringing your legs under you, and
standing on the bottom, raise your head far above the wa-
880’ SWIM
Swimming, ter: then plunge under it with your eyes open, throwing
yourself toward the egg, and endeavouring, by the action
of your hands and feet against the water, to get forward till
within reach of it. In this attempt you will find that the
water buoys you up against your inclination ; and it is not
so easy a thing to sink as you imagined; that you cannot
but by active force get down to the egg. Thus you feel
the power of the water to support you, and learn to confide
in that power j while your endeavours to overcome it, and
to reach the egg, teach you the manner of acting on the
water with your feet and hands £ which action is afterwards
used in swimming to support your head higher above water,
or to go forward through it.”
Swimming As swimming is a healthy exercise and a pleasant amuse-
a pleasant ment, and as a dexterity in it may frequently put it in a
and useful man’s power to save his own life and the lives of his fellow-
exercise. creatureSj perhaps of his dearest friends, it can neither be
useless nor uninteresting to consider a few of the evolutions
which a swimmer must be master of, that he move in any
direction without difficulty, without danger, and without
being unnecessarily fatigued.
How to There are several different ways of turning one’s self in
turn to the swimming. You may do it in this way : turn the palm of
T?]1* or the right hand outwards, extend the arm in the same man¬
ner, and make a contrary movement with the left hand and
left arm ; then, by a gradual motion, incline your head and
whole body to the left side, and the evolution will be finish¬
ed. There is another way, which is easier still. Bend your
head and body toward that side to which you are going to
turn. If you wish to turn to the left, incline the thumb
and the right hand toward the bottom, bend the fingers of
the right hand, stretch it out, and use it for driving away
the water sidewise, or, which is the same thing, for pushing
yourself the contrary way. At the same time, with your left
hand, the fingers being close, push the water behind you, and
all at once turn your body and your face to the left, and
the manoeuvre will be accomplished. It you wish to turn
to the right, you must do with your right hand what you
did with your left, and with your left what you did with
your right. You must be careful when turning yourself
never to stretch out your legs, and be sure that the water
be so deep that you be in no danger of hurting yourself.
How to When you are swimming on your belly, and wish to turn
turn from on y0ur back, draw your feet in quickly, and throw them
before you; stretch out your hands behind you, and keep
* e ac ■ your body firm and steady. When you wish to turn from
swimming on your back, fold your feet at once under
your body, as if you were throwing them to the bottom, and
at the same instant dart your body forwards, that you may
fall upon your belly.
The eyes In swimming, the eyes ought to be turned towards heaven,
ought to This is a most important rule, and to the neglect of it many
be turned 0p ^ accidents which befall swimmers are owing. For
bJvS! when they bend their eyes downwards, they insensibly
bend their head too, and thus the mouth being too deep in
the water, may admit a quantity of it in breaking; besides,
the more the body is stretched, it covers a greater part of
the surface of the water, and consequently its specific gra¬
vity is less. Any person who will make the experiment
will find it impossible to dive while he keeps his head erect
and his eyes fixed on the heavens.1
How to The easiest posture in swimming is lying on the back,
swim on When you wish to swim in this posture, lay yourself softly
the back.
MING.
on your back, and raise your breast to the surface of the Swimming.
water, keeping your body extended in the same line. Puts'——v—
your hands easily over the upper part of your thighs, and
throw out your legs and draw them in alternately, keeping
them within two feet of the surface. In this way you may
advance in any direction you please. You may perhaps
not like having so much of your head under water ; there
is, however, no way of swimming so easy, so safe, and so
little fatiguing. If you wish to swim with great rapidity,
you may use your arms as well as your feet; and you
will find this the easiest way of breaking the force of the
waves.
In swimming on the back, one may advance forward as and ad-
well as backward. For this purpose the body must be kept vance for.
straight and extended ; the breast inflated, so that the hol¬
low of the back may assume a semicircular form. The
hands must recline over the upper parts of the thighs. It
is also necessary to raise the legs one after another, and
draw them in strongly towards the hams, and then leave
them suspended in the water. This way of swimming is
not only pleasant, but may serve to rest you when fatigued.
When you are tired with swimming on your back and How to
belly, you may swim on one side. When you wish to do swim on
this, sink a little your left side and raise your right; youone slde'
will immediately find yourself on your left side. Move
then your left hand without either raising or sinking it;
you have only to stretch it and draw it back, as in a straight
line, on the surface of the water. Independently of the plea¬
sure which this kind of motion will give you, you will have
the satisfaction of seeing both sides of the river.
It is possible to swim on the belly without the assistance How to
of the hands. For this purpose you must keep your breast swim on
erect, your neck straight, and fix your hands behind your ^hoeu/
head, or upon your back, while you move forward by em-^ assjst_
ploying your feet. This way is not without its advantages. ance of the
It is an excellent resource when the arms are seized with a hands,
cramp, or with any indisposition which makes it painful to
exert them. This in some cases may be preferable to
swimming on the back; for while in that attitude, one can¬
not see before them without turning every instant. If one
of your legs be seized with a cramp, take hold of it with
the hand opposite to it, and use the other hand and leg to
advance or support yourself.
A very ancient and graceful mode of swimming, is that How to
of swimming with the hands joined. When you wish to put*^1™^*1
this in practice, join your hands, keeping the thumbs and. .®ie^
fingers towards heaven, so that they may appear above the
water ; then draw them back and push them forwards alter¬
nately from your breast. This method of swimming may
be useful in several circumstances, but above all if you are
entangled with grass or weeds. Your hands will then open
a passage for you.
As a person may sometimes have occasion to carry some- With the
thing in his hand in swimming, which he is anxious to pre-^^^ e e*
serve from the water, he may swim easily with one hand
and hold a parcel in the other, as Caesar swam with his
Commentaries at Alexandria; or one may swim with both
hands elevated. To perform this well, the swimmer must
raise his breast, and keep it as much inflated as he can, at
the same time that he supports the arms above the water.
It must not be concealed that this method of swimming is
attended with some danger to one who is not dexterous at
the art; for if one should imprudently draw in his breast
*
> 1 An interesting question occurs here, which deserves to be considered. Since the body, when spread upon the surface, can be supported
with so little exertion, and frequently without any at all, as in swimming on the back, how comes it to pass that a Person when drowned
sinks and frequently rises again some time afterwards. The reason is this. In the act of drowning, the lungs are filled with water, and yon
sequently the body, being specifically heavier, sinks. It is well known that the human body contains a great quantity of air. Ibis air is at
first compressed by the water; and while this is the case, the body remains at the bottom ; but as soon as the air by its elasticity endeavours
to disengage itself from the compression, the body is swelled and expanded, becomes specifically lighter than the water, and consequently
rises to the top.
S W I
S W I
881
Swindon when his arms are raised, he would immediately sink to the
bottom.
When a man plunges into the water, and has reached the
bottom, he has only to give a small stroke with his foot
against the ground in order to rise ; but an experienced
swimmer, if he misses the ground, has recourse to another
expedient, which is very pretty, and which has not been
much considered. Suppose him at a considerable depth,
when he perceives that he cannot reach the bottom. In
such a case, he first puts his hands before his face, at the
height of his forehead, with the palms turned outwardly ;
then holding the fore part of his arm vertically, he makes
them move backwards and forwards from right to left; that
is to say, these two parts of his arms, having the elbow as
a kind of pivot, describe very quickly, both the hands being
open and the fingers joined, two small portions of a circle
before the forehead, as if he would make the water retire,
which he in fact does ; and from these strokes given to the
water there results an oblique force, one part of which car¬
ries the swimmer upwards.
SWINDON, a market-town of England, Wiltshire, on
a hill 19 miles N.E. by N. of Devizes, and 80 W. of Lon¬
don. It consists of 5 principal streets, which are broad,
regular, and neat; and it contains many good buildings.
There are a handsome town-hall and market-house, an
elegant gothic parish church, other places of worship be¬
longing to Wesleyans and Independents ; national, British,
and infant schools, a library, and reading-room. Swindon
is a principal station of the Great Western Railway, which
has a locomotive-engine factory here, employing 1500
hands. In connection with this factory, a new town, called
New Swindon, has sprung up, containing a church, schools, Swine-
and mechanics’ institute of its own. Pop. of the parish, 4876. miinde
SWINEMtlNDE, a town of the Prussian monarchy, gwJzer
province of Pomerania, near the mouth of the Swine in the |an(j
Baltic, 30 miles N.N.W. of Stettin. It has broad streets, „ _1L_
lined with well-built houses, and contains a court of law,
public offices, baths, and assembly rooms. There are here
docks; and a harbour, that has been recently enlarged and
improved, as it is the port of Stettin. The trade and navi¬
gation of the place are considerable. Pop. 5446.
SWINESHEAD, a decayed market-town of England,
in the county and 25 miles S.E. of Lincoln. The sea
formerly extended up to the town, and there was a harbour
near the present market-place. This has become silted up,
and Swineshead is now about 2 miles distant from the near¬
est point of the sea. There are here a free school, several
charities, and a large and handsome church. Formerly
there was at Swineshead a Cistercian abbey, and it was in
this house that King John took refuge, after losing his
baggage in attempting to ford the Wash, shortly before his
death. Pop. of the parish, 2044.
SWINFORD REGIS, or King’s Swinford, a village
and parish of England, Staffordshire, on the Dudley and
Stourbridge and Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canals,
3 miles W.S.W. of Dudley. The chief buildings are an
elegant modern parish church, a chapel of ease, places of
worship of Independents, Baptists, Primitive and Wesleyan
Methodists. The parish occupies an extensive area, in a
district rich in iron and coal, and contains many iron-works,
collieries, potteries, brick and tile works, &c., with a popu¬
lation of 27,301.
S WITZE
Boundaries SWITZERLAND {JLa Swisse, Schtveiz, Svizzera), the most
mountainous country in Europe, lies between 45. 48. and
47. 49. N. Lat., and 5. 55. and 10. 30. E. Long., having
France on the W. between Basle on the Rhine and Geneva
on the Rhone, the boundary line being formed by one of the
ridges of the Jura Mountains, and by the River Doubs, an
affluent of the Rhone. On the S. are Savoy, Piedmont,
and Lombardy, from which it is separated by the Lake of
Geneva, and high ranges of the Alps. To the E. are the
principality of Lichtenstein, the Vorarlberg, and the Tyrol.
Canton Ticino and some small portions of the Grisons
are on the south side of the main chain of the Alps. On
the N. lie Wiirtemberg, Lake Constance, and Baden.
The town of Constance, with a limited tract about it on
the south of the lake, belongs to Baden, while the Canton
of Schaffhausen, and a small portion of that of Zurich, lie to
the north of the Rhine. The greatest length of the country
is from E. to W., in Lat. 46. 30., where it is 200 miles
in extent; and its greatest breadth,—about the 9th parallel
of E. Long.,—is 135 miles. Between Switzerland and
Sardinia the boundary line is strongly defined, except
towards the west, where the Canton of Geneva is partially
surrounded by Savoy, Chablais, and Faucigny, lately ceded
by Sardinia to France. Towards the eastern extremity of
the Lake of Geneva, where a high range of the Alps termi¬
nates on the banks of the lake near St Gingolph, the line
runs southward along this range until it reaches the moun¬
tain-knot of Mont Blanc. Thence it runs eastward along the
higher portion of the Pennine Alps to Mont Rosa, where it
turns to the N.E. along the Lepontine Alps to the great
mountain-mass enveloping the Pass of St Gothard. From
this point it trends southward, and afterwards S.E. to the
Lago Maggiore. From this lake the line passes southward to
the western arm of the Lake of Lugano, the central portion of
which lake belongs to Switzerland, whilst the south-western
and north-eastern extremities belong to Lombardy. A
VOL. xx.
ELAND.
tract of land, extending several miles to the south of the
lake, is also included in Switzerland. About 4 miles to the
east of the town of Lugano commences a mountain-range,
which, passing to the north, separates the valley of St Gia¬
como, belonging to Lombardy, from that of Misocco, which
belongs to Switzerland. This range meets the principal
chain of the Rhaetian Alps at the Pass of the Spliigen.
After proceeding a few miles only along this chain, the line
extends to the east and south along a lateral range, crosses
the valley of Bregaglia a few miles above Chiavenna, and
meets the Bernina range, forming the southernmost of the
three chains of the Rhaetian Alps. The valleys of Pos-
chiavo and Munster, on the southern side of the range, be¬
long, however, to Switzerland ; while that of Livigno forms
a portion of Lombardy, so that the line here does not fol¬
low the water-parting. From the southern extremity of
the valley of Munster, bordering on the Tyrol, the lire
passes nearly due north, and, crossing the valley of the
Inn, meets the central chain of the Rhaetian Alps. Pass¬
ing S.W. along this, it meets the lateral chain called
the Rhaticon, w hich runs N.W. between the Pratigau, be¬
longing to Switzerland, and the Montafbner valley, which
belongs to Austria. The mountains of the Rhaticon ter¬
minate on the Rhine to the north of Meyenfeld. Up to the
point where it enters the Lake of Constance, the Rhine
forms the boundary between Austria and Switzerland. The
Lake of Constance separates Switzerland from Bavaria and
Wiirtemberg, the harbour of Lindau forming the chief
point of communication with the former, and that of Frie-
drichshafen with the latter kingdom. The entire length of
boundary is 1040 miles, composed as follows,—602 miles
of mountains, 235 of plains, and 203 of water.
The confederation of Switzerland at present consists of Political
twenty-two sovereign states or cantons, the areas of which, divisions,
with number of inhabitants, and other statistical data, are
given in the following table:—
5 x -
882
SWITZERLAND
SWITZERLAND.
883
History.
The Hel-
vetii de¬
feated by
Caesar.
Helvetia
subjected
by the
Homans j
This country was anciently called Helvetia, from its first
known inhabitants ; its more modern name is supposed to
be derived from the canton of Sehwytz, the cradle of Swiss
independence. Little is known of the inhabitants of Swit¬
zerland till about one hundred years before Christ, when
the Cimbri, a race of barbarians inhabiting the northern
regions of the Chersonnesus Cimbrica, now known as North
and South Jutland or Sleswig, crossed the Rhine, and
extended their conquests into Gaul. Several of the Helve¬
tian tribes, tempted by the immense spoils gained by the
Cimbri, entered into an alliance with them, and carried
their united ravages nearly to the mouth of the Rhone. In
this extremity, the Gauls applied for assistance to the Ro¬
mans, who speedily sent a powerful army to their assistance,
under the command of the consul, Lucius Cassius. This
force, however, was suddenly attacked on the banks of the
Lake of Geneva by the Tigurini, a tribe of the Helvetii,
led by a young general named Divico. The Romans were
totally defeated, the consul and his lieutenant, Piso, left
dead on the field, and the survivors only permitted to re¬
treat after they had given hostages and marched under the
yoke. Emboldened by this success, Divico rejoined the
Cimbri, and with their united forces crossed the Alps and
entered Italy itself, where, however, they were defeated by
Marius with tremendous slaughter, and the few who escaped
sought refuge among the fastnesses of the Helvetian moun¬
tains.
For nearly half a century after this decisive defeat, the
Helvetii confined themselves to their own country. But
the recollection of rich pastures and fertile plains outlived
the terror of the Roman arms, and made them resolve once
more to quit their rocky fastnesses. After spending three
years in preparation, they set out with their wives and fami¬
lies, cattle and possessions, led by the same Divico who had
commanded their fathers fifty years before. The number
who marched out on this expedition is computed at 368,000
souls, of whom 92,000 were able-bodied warriors.
The Roman province of Gaul was at that time under
the government of Julius Caesar, and that consummate
general no sooner heard of the emigration of the Helve¬
tians, than he took effectual measures to defeat their plans.
After some abortive attempts at negociation, he attacked
and defeated them in two engagements, with tremendous
slaughter. Their strength and spirit were completely
broken, and, overwhelmed with shame and grief, their num¬
bers reduced to scarcely 100,000, they returned to their
desolated country and rebuilt their ruined habitations. In
order to watch and overawe them, Caesar erected a fortress
at Noviodunum (Nyon), on the banks of the Lake of Ge¬
neva, and established several other garrisons in different
parts of the country.
The Helvetii were at first the allies of the Roman people,
but in the reign of Augustus they were reduced to complete
subjection, and their country remained in the condition of
a Roman province for upwards of three centuries, and under¬
went various reverses of fortune, according to the prosper¬
ous or adverse fortune of the empire to which it was sub¬
ject. When the innumerable swarms of barbarians, issuing
from the unknown regions of the north and east, overran
Italy and destroyed the Roman empire, Switzerland also
became their prey. The Goths established themselves in
that portion of the country which bordered on Italy ; the
Burgundians, a tribe of the Wendes, from the shores of the
Baltic, fixed their residence on both sides of the Jura, on
the Lake of Geneva, and in the Lower Valais, as far as the
Aar ; and the Allemanni took possession of the country to
the eastward of that country, and of great part of Germany.
The Burgundians having been defeated by the Huns
under Attila, about the year 450 allied themselves with
the Visigoths, a Scandinavian tribe, and adopted the Visi¬
goth chief as their king. They afterwards extended their
dominion into Gaul, along the banks of the Rhone and History.
Saone, and gave their name to the fine country which still
bears it. After having located themselves in Gaul and in
Western Helvetia, a more regular system of society can be
clearly traced among them.
The Allemanni, more ferocious than the Burgundians,
devastated the valleys of Helvetia, and reduced the country
to a wilderness, so that, gradually, vast marshes and forests
overspread those parts, at present so beautiful, around the
Lakes of Constance and of Zurich.
After this state of affairs had continued some time, a new an(l by
swarm of adventurers obtained the ascendency. These *Ianks*
were the Franks, another race from the north, who, after
traversing the Netherlands, gained possession of the whole
of Gaul, and pouring their resistless myriads into Switzer¬
land, forcibly dispossessed the inhabitants, and at length,
after various changes, succeeded in obtaining exclusive do¬
minion over the whole of Rhaetia and Helvetia. The Franks
introduced into Helvetia the feudal system and other peculiar
institutions and laws of the Teutonic tribes. To them also,
under Clovis, the inhabitants were indebted for the adop¬
tion of Christianity, which contributed powerfully to the
progress of civilization, and the revival of the country from
its waste and desolate state. Switzerland remained subject
to the Franks till after the death of Charlemagne, when, in
consequence of the feuds of that monarch’s successors, the
vast empire which he had founded was entirely dismem¬
bered, and Switzerland was portioned out between France,
Italy, and Germany. Rhaetia and the country between
the Lake of Constance and the Rhine, the Aar and St
Gothard, in which German was the current language, were
united to Suabia; while Geneva, the Valais, Neuchatel, and
the present country of Berne, Soleure, Fribourg, and Vaud,
the districts in which Romance was the prevailing lan¬
guage, were united to Savoy, under the denomination
of Little Burgundy. But this arrangement was of short
duration, for the disorders and confusion produced by the
continued wars enabled the provincial governors to throw
off all allegiance to their feudal superiors, or to secure real
independence while yielding nominal obedience. Switzer- Divided
land was thus divided into a great number of petty states, into petty
generally engaged in hostilities with each other, and seldom states*
uniting among themselves unless when menaced by some
great and common danger. Such a case presented itself in
the reign of the Emperor Henry L, surnamed the Fowler.
An immense horde of barbarians, known by the name of
Hungarians, issued from the east and the shores of the
Black Sea, and overran Germany and Italy, burning and
destroying wherever they came. In order to protect the
inhabitants from the fury of these ruthless invaders, Henry
built walls around a number of defensible places, to which
all, in case of need, might fly for the security of their lives
and property. In this manner Zurich, St Gall, Basle, and
various other places, rose from petty hamlets to towns of
considerable strength and numerous population. About
the same period, the bailiffs of the emperor built and forti¬
fied Berne, Fribourg, and various other towns. A ninth of
the free and nobler class of inhabitants were required to
occupy these national fortresses, and they received the same
political organization and rights as the more ancient cities
of Germany. This was the first foundation of the class of
burghers, who in process of time came to be a third estate
in the kingdom. In proportion as the wealth and import¬
ance of the towns augmented, the citizens were eager to
extend their rights and privileges. They availed themselves
of every opportunity to purchase their emancipation from
the feudal dominion of the bishops, abbots, and monasteries,
to whose authority they had long been subjected ; and in a
short time the burghers were able to bid defiance to the
nobles, and even to balance the political weight of the
clergy.
'884
SWITZERLAND.
History.
trians,
a.d. 1315.
The affairs of Switzerland continued in this state, without
any material alteration, until the year 1273 when Rudolph
Subiect to of Hapsburg, whose castle was situated in the canton of the
the house Aar, and who, besides possessing manorial rights and great
of Austria, influence in Schwytz, had held the office of impel lal baihff
of several towns, was elected Emperor of Germany. 1 his
prince though inhabiting a distant country, continued
throughout his life to be strongly attached to Switzerland.
He conferred new honours on its nobles, and granted addi¬
tional privileges to its towns, or confirmed those which
* ■: ' they already enjoved. Rudolph was succeeded by his son
Albert, whose ambition and rapacity soon alienated the
affections of both his German and his Swiss subjects.
Two of the imperial bailiffs, Hermann Gessler and Berin-
gar of Landenberg, who were appointed over the Wald-
statten (the three cantons of Schwytz, Unterwalden, and
Uri), subjected the inhabitants to every species of inso¬
lence and oppression. Gessler, in particular, was guilty of
so many acts of wanton cruelty, that he was at length shot
through the heart by the famous William Tell, who thus
paved the way for the deliverance of his countrymen. Curi¬
ously enough, a similar case occurs in ancient Scandina-
The Swiss vian history, as recorded by Saxo Grammaticus. 1 hree
revolt from patriots, whose names are still revered throughout the re-
the Aus- public, Werner Stauffacher, from the canton of Schwytz,
Walter Furst of Uri, and Arnold Melchthal, from Unter¬
walden, had formed a conspiracy against the Austrian go¬
vernors ; and their measures were concerted with such
wisdom, and executed with so much courage and intiepi-
dity, that they obtained possession of every fortress of any
considerable strength or importance. Shortly after this
revolt of the forest cantons, the Emperor Albert was mur¬
dered by his nephew and some other nobles ; but his
son, Duke Leopold, marched against the cantons with a
powerful army. 1 he Schwytzers waited his anival at Moi-
garten, on the slope of the mountain Sattel, and, notwith¬
standing the disparity of their forces, routed the Austrians
with great slaughter on the 15th of November 1315 ; and it
was with no small difficulty that the duke himself escaped,
leaving most of his officers, and an immense number of his
soldiers, dead upon the field.
The three cantons of Uri, Unterwalden, and Schwytz,
having thus by their courage and virtue, achieved their in¬
dependence, held a meeting on the 8th of December 1315,
at which they entered into a solemn compact, and thus laid
the foundation of the Swiss Confederation.
In 1332, the inhabitants of Lucerne formed a perpetual
league with the Waldstatten ; and in 1351 the citizens of
Zurich, having thrown off the yoke of the aristocracy,
joined the Swiss republic; and, on account of the power
and wealth of the town, it was promoted to the chief rank.
Claris came next; Zug joined the confederation in 1352 ;
and Berne in the following year, lo the latter, in con¬
sideration of its importance, was assigned the second place
of precedence. .
The above-mentioned eight cantons, Schwytz, Uri, Unter¬
walden, Lucerne, Zurich, Claris, Zug, and Berne, remained
for more than a century the federative republic of the Swiss.
With few interruptions, the republic enjoyed tranquillity
until the year 1375, when a mixed English and French
army of adventurers, under a French nobleman, Enguei-
rand de Coucy, a cousin of Leopold of Austria, and married
to the English princess Isabella, advanced on the Limmat
as far as Wettingen. Surprised, however, at night by the
Swiss, they were dispersed, and the Lord de Coucy re¬
treated into Alsace.
Duke Leopold HI. of Austria viewed the extending con¬
federation with jealousy and alarm, and various quarrels
having taken place between him and the cantons, hostilities
were at length commenced. The duke, with a numerous
force, chiefly composed of cavalry, marched rapidly towards
Defeat of
Leopold,
a.d. 1386.
the interior of the country, and, on the 9th of July 1386, History,
encountered the Swiss in the neighbouihood of Sempach.
The battle was long and fiercely contested, but at length
the Swiss patriots gained a complete victory; the duke
himself was slain, and more than 600 of the higher and
lower nobility, with about 2000 of their less distinguished
adherents, were left dead on the field.
Two years after the battle of Sempach, the Austrians
took Nafels, a small town in the canton of Claris. The
garrison retreated from the town as far as Mount Rute
where they took up a strong position, and awaited the ap¬
proach of the enemy on the 9th of April. The Austrians Again de-
maintained the fight for some time with great ardour, but feat the
were in the end overthrown and put to flight. The bridge a
of Wesen, on the Linth, was broken down by the weight
of the fugitives, and above 3000 common soldiers, and 183
knights, were slain in the battle, or drowned in the lake
and in the river. These defeats induced Duke Leopold
TV., in 1389, to enter into a truce with the cantons for
seven years, during which the Swiss contrived by vari¬
ous means to extend their territory and to increase their
power.
This truce was renewed in 1394 for twenty years more,
and was faithfully kept on both sides until 1415. At the
commencement of the fifteenth century, the house of Aus¬
tria possessed yet in Switzerland, Aargau, Fribourg, Rap-
perschwyl, Thurgau, and Winterthur. The house of Savoy
owned the Pays de Vaud. The Valais and the valleys of
Rhaetia belonged to their feudal nobles. The Abbot of
St Gall and the Counts of Toggenburg in the east, and
the Bishop of Basle and Counts of Neuchatel in the
west, were powerful neighbours of the eight Swiss Cantons.
In the north existed still the independent imperial towns of
Basle, Schaffhausen, and Soleure. The year 1415 was
famous for the celebrated Council of Constance. About
this time the Swiss Cantons carried their arms acioss the
Alps into Italy; but the troops of Savoy, crossing the
Simplon to Domo d’Ossola, drove the Swiss garrison away.
The cantons of Unterwalden and Uri having next pur¬
chased the town and valley of Bellinzona, the Duke of
Milan sent the celebrated condottieri Pergola, who, after an
obstinate fight at Arbedo, in June 1422, obliged the Swiss
to recross the St Gothard. In 1444, Charles V II. of France
sent the Dauphin Louis, at the head of the Armagnacs,
composed of soldiers of fortune of all nations, against Basle.
The two armies met outside that town, when, after a, most
desperate fight, in which out of one Swiss division of 1200
men only ten remained alive, the dauphin, struck with sur¬
prise at the conduct of the Swiss, concluded a truce and
sought their alliance. The house of Austria had, however,
gradually lost nearly all their possessions in Helvetia, when,
in 1467,* Duke Sigismund sold his last remaining property,
Wintherthir, to the Swiss, and the patrimonial estates of
that house, even the castle of Hapsburg itself, passed into
the hands of the stranger.
With the exception of the disputes which took place
between the people of the canton Appenzell, and of the
Valais and Rhaetian Alps, with their lords, and of the civil
war which arose between Zurich and Schwytz relative to
the right to some lands, no other event of great import¬
ance occurred in the history of Switzerland till the year
1474, when Louis XL of France induced the Swiss to
make a diversion in his favour, by falling on the territory
of Charles the Rash, Duke of Burgundy, who had advanced
to the very walls of Paris, and threatened Louis with the
loss of his throne. This unprovoked attack induced the
duke to offer terms of peace to the King of France and the
Emperor of Germany, with whom he was at the same time
at war ; and these monarchs accepted his offer, leaving
their late allies to meet his whole vengeance as they best
might. Peace was no sooner concluded, than Charles
SWITZERLAND.
885
History.
Twice de¬
feat the
Duke of
Burgundy
The confe¬
deration
strengthen
ed, a.d.
1481.
Indepen¬
dence of
Switzer¬
land ac¬
know¬
ledged by
the em¬
peror, A.D.
1499.
determined to inflict condign punishment on the Swiss for
’ their unjustifiable aggression, and in the spring of 1476 he
crossed the Jura with an army of 60,000 men. He
encountered the army of the confederates near the town
of Grandson, and after a desperate conflict on the 3d of
March, was totally defeated with the loss of a thousand
men. His camp, with an immense booty, fell into the
hands of the Swiss. A few months after, on the 22d of
June, he was defeated, with prodigious slaughter, in a
second action, near the little town of Morat; and on the
5th of January 1477, when the duke was slain in the battle
ot Nancy, the states of Upper Burgundy agreed to pay
the confederates the sum of 150,000 florins to make peace
with them.
These repeated victories procured for the Swiss the re¬
putation of being the best soldiers in Europe; and a con¬
siderable number of them were hired to fight the battles of
foreigners. The sudden wealth acquired by plunder and
pensions excited its possessors to profusion and extrava¬
gance ; their morals became corrupted, and the simple re¬
publican honesty almost disappeared. A spirit of cupidity
and pride displayed itself among the rulers, and dissipa¬
tion and love of plunder among the people; and the Swiss
became notorious throughout Europe as the hirelings of
any potentate who had battles to fight and gold to squan¬
der. Domestic troubles and feuds generally prevailed ; the
peace and security of the country were disturbed to such
a degree by an armed and desperate banditti of disbanded
soldiers and idle vagabonds, that in 1480, during the short
space of three months, nearly 1500 assassins and robbers
were condemned to death.
The confederates had been faithfully supported in their
wars by the towns of Fribourg and Soleure, and in 1481
' these requested to be admitted into the confederation.
Their request was warmly supported by the town cantons ;
but the mountaineers of the forest cantons objected to it,
and the dispute ran so high that, at a general congress of
all the confederates, the deputies were at the point of com¬
ing to blows, and the confederation was threatened with
dissolution. This catastrophe was happily averted by the
eloquent remonstrances of a pious hermit, called Nicholas
Lovenbrugger. His simple but pathetic appeal had the
effect of removing their differences, and Soleure and Fri¬
bourg were received into the Swiss confederation.
Upon the death of Louis XI. of France, Charles VIII.
renewed the alliance with the Swiss cantons, and received
permission to recruit soldiers among them in exchange for
subsidies. The friendship of the confederation was now
sought by many sovereigns, among whom the Pope, the
Duke of Milan, the house of Austria, and even Mathias of
Hungary were prominent. During the Italian wars for the
possession of the Milanese and of Naples, Swiss volunteers
were extensively used. So great became the importance
of the confederation, that their offer of mediation between
Charles VIII. and Maximilian of Austria was accepted,
when, by the treaty of Senlis in 1493, the county of Upper
Burgundy was ceded to Maximilian. Ludovico Sforza,
having usurped the Duchy of Milan, the Swiss were offered
the districts of Bellinzona, Locarno, and Lugano by Charles
VIII. to obtain their assistance in the conquest of the
Milanese. The cantons, with the exception of Berne, hav¬
ing accepted the offer, 20,000 Swiss troops joined the
French army in Italy.
In the year 1497, the Grisons entered into a treaty offen¬
sive and defensive with the confederate cantons. This
alliance gave great offence to the Emperor Maximilian, who
immediately collected his troops, and marched both against
the Grisons and their Swiss allies. Battle after battle took
place, in all of which, more particularly at Bregentz,
Frastenz, Malserheyde, and Dornach, the Austrians were
defeated; and the Emperor, having lost 20,000 of his
troops in eight months, and finding further exertions use- History,
less, concluded a peace with the Swiss at Basle in Septem-
ber 1499, by which he acknowledged their unconditional
independence as a nation. This war, called the Suabian ,
war, was the last the Swiss had to sustain for their inde¬
pendence. For three centuries after this date no farther
attempts were made against the liberties of the Swiss cam-
tons, which assumed their station as an independent pow'er
in Europe. The towns of Basle and Schaffhausen were Thirteen
received into the confederation in 1501, and Appenzell wascantons-
added in 1513, and completed the number of thirteen
cantons which have constituted the Helvetic body till
within our own times—namely, Zurich, Schwytz, Uri,
Unterwalden, the three Waldstatten or forest cantons,
Lucerne, Claris, Zug, Berne, Fribourg, Soleure, Basle,
Schaffhausen, and Appenzell. Besides these there were
various confederates and associates who were in alliance
with the cantons, and entitled to assistance in case ot
foreign attack. These were the Abbot of St Gall, the city
of the same name, the Pays de Vaud, the towns of Mul- .
hausen and Bienne, the Grisons and the Valais, the repub¬
lic of Geneva, and the county of Neuchatel.
In 1513 the Swiss defended Sforza, whom they had the
year before installed as Duke of Milan, against France at
the battle of Novara, and another Swiss army invaded
Burgundy. After the death of Louis XII. of France,
Francis I. invaded Italy, and at the battle of Marignano,
called the battle of giants, defeated the Swiss, who retired
across the Alps into their own country, and concluded
peace the next year with France. In the subsequent wars
of Francis I. in Italy, Swiss troops fought in his ranks, and
at the disastrous battle of Pavia, in 1525, the Swiss lost no
less than 7000 men.
Switzerland had scarcely obtained rest from her political Reforma-
wars when religious disputes arose among the cantons, and tion*
converted into fierce enemies those who had lately fought
side by side in defence of their liberties. The unscrupu¬
lous sale of indulgences by the agents of Pope Leo X. in
Germany, Switzerland, and the other countries, led to a
searching inquiry into the whole of the papal system, and
caused vast multitudes to I'enounce altogether the authority
of the Church of Rome. In no country did the doctrines
of the Reformation create a greater excitement, or meet
with more zealous supporters, than in Switzerland. The in¬
habitants of Zurich, Berne, Schaffhausen, Basle, St Gall, and
the Grisons, as well as of many parts in the neighbourhood
of Geneva and Neuchatel, eagerly adopted the opinions of
Calvin and Zwingli; while the people of the Waldstatten,
and of Soleure and Fribourg, being more secluded and
ignorant, and more under the control of the priests, con- ..
tinued staunch in their support of the papal authority.
Fierce animosities speedily arose between the reformed and
the papal cantons, and various sanguinary wars were carried
on for many years. During these internal broils, the terri¬
tory of the confederation was violated, and their rights in¬
fringed without remonstrance ; and such was the divided
state of the cantons, that Austria, their ancient enemy,
might perhaps have subdued them but for the jealousy of
the other great powers. To prevent this danger, they, in
concluding the treaty of Westphalia in 1648, formally re¬
cognised the independence of the Swiss confederation.
But though Switzerland was thus secured against the in¬
vasion of any of the greater powers, it continued to be
torn by internal dissensions. I he arbitrary manner in Insurrec-
which the large towns levied taxes upon the people of the tion of the
country, and of the smaller towns and villages, caused great
dissatisfaction, especially in the territories of Berne and
Lucerne, and at length the peasantry rose up in rebellion
against their rulers ; and it was not until after considerable
bloodshed that the revolt was quelled, and several of the
chiefs who were taken alive were tried, condemned, and
886
SWITZERLAND.
History, executed. Scarcely had this insurrection terminated when
religious quarrels again broke out between the Piotestants
Civil war and the Romanists. Till near the close of the seventeenth
a.d. 1703. century, Switzerland was distracted by the dissensions aus-
in<ir from this cause ; and in 1 /03, the whole of the Piotes-
tant and of the Catholic cantons were openly arrayed
against each other, and a civil war of several years’ duration
ensued. The immediate cause of the war was a quarrel
between the people of Toggenburg and their superior the
Abbot of St Gall, who had endeavoured in a fraudulent
manner to deprive them of their privileges. Zurich and
Berne took part with the people, while the Catholic cantons
espoused the cause of the Abbot. Several battles were
fought, and at length, in 1712, an army of Catholics,
12,000 in number, encountered 8000 Bernois at Yilmergen.
The conflict lasted six hours, and in the end the Catholics
were completely routed, leaving 2000 of their number dead
upon the field. *A peace was soon after concluded at Aarau,
on terms advantageous to the victors.
French in- From this period till towards the close of the eighteenth
vasion. century, the state of Switzerland underwent no material al¬
teration ; and their internal discords paved the way for ex¬
ternal aggression, and rendered them an easy prey to the
grasping ambition of the French republic. In 1797, the
French government, which had previously interfered in the
affairs of Switzerland, manifested a determination to take
possession of that country, and evidently sought for a pre¬
tence to come to an open rupture. The Swiss government
placed their only hope in a passive neutrality, which in the
end proved their ruin. For the sake of peace, they sub¬
mitted with the utmost servility to the imperious and in¬
sulting demands of the Directory ; but their humiliation did
not save them from destruction. The emissaries of France
laboured but too successfully to incite dissensions among
the people, and the French rulers made these dissensions
a pretext for their interference with the constitution of the
country. In this way the bailiwicks of Yaltelina, Chia-
venna, and Bormio, which had been for centuries dependent
on the Grisons, but whom the Grisons had obstinately
refused to admit to a community of civil and political rights,
were incorporated with the Cisalpine republic. Insurrec¬
tions broke out in several of the cantons, and were ren¬
dered triumphant by the assistance of the French arms.
Geneva and the Pays de Vaud placed themselves under
French protection, and at length the french armies undei
Brune and Schauenburg, having defeated the Bernese
army under D’Erlach in 1798, united Geneva to the
French republic, and established the “ Helvetic Republic.
The inhabitants of Berne, Soleure, Freibourg, and e»pe-
Swiss re- dally of the Waldstatten, made a brave but ineffectual
public. stand in defence of their rights and liberties. The most
horrible excesses were committed by the French soldiers;
the towns were successively rifled of their public property,
and great part of the country was laid waste, and many of
the inhabitants reduced to utter destitution. A new con¬
stitution was framed by the French directory, which pro¬
vided that Switzerland should form a single republic, one
and indivisible, under a central government to be estab¬
lished at Aarau. The country was divided into twenty-two
cantons, and the supreme authority was committed to two
councils and an executive directory, in whom was vested
the appointment of prefects and other authorities for the
various cantons, which were thus transformed into depart-
ments, with the loss of their independence as separate states.
After this new constitution was established, a treaty was
made with France, by one of the articles of which the Swiss
republic was bound to furnish to its new ally a force of
The French 16,000 men. Great miseries were suffered by the people,
from the excesses of every kind committed by the French
troops, and their heavy requisitions and exactions. The small
canton of Unterwalden refused to swear fidelity to the new
constitution of the Helvetic republic ; but after a desperate History,
struggle it was subdued ; the inhabitants were massacred
without distinction of sex or age ; and that district, once
peaceful and happy, was left a scene of horrible desolation.
During the campaign of 1799, Switzerland was the theatre
of the struggle between the armies of Austria, Russia, and
France; the Austrians under Hotze ; the Russians under
Suwarrov and Korsakov ; and the French under Massena,
Molitor, Soult, and Lecourbe. The mountain cantons were
in consequence utterly ruined, a considerable part of the
country rendered uncultivated, and the population reduced
to little short of actual starvation. The Helvetic directory
was suppressed in 1800, and an executive commission sub¬
stituted in its room ; and about seven months after, this
commission dissolved the councils and convoked a new
legislature. A general diet was called in September 1801,
for the purpose of re-organizing the constitution of the
country. Meanwhile the treaty which was signed at Lune- Indepen-
ville between France and Austria guaranteed the indepen- deuce of
dence of the Helvetic republic, and the French troops were jj16 rePufe-
consequently ordered to evacuate Switzerland. Their de- ^
parture was the signal for a general revolt. All the old
factions were awakened afresh. The Pays de Yaud formed
itself into a single republic; Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwal¬
den took up arms against the Helvetian government; and
the towns of Zurich, Basle, and Schaffhausen renounced
their allegiance. A civil war appeared inevitable, when
Napoleon Bonaparte offered himself as arbitrator between
the contending parties, and ordered Marshal Ney to advance
with a body of troops to the frontiers of Switzerland to en¬
force compliance with his mandates. The existing govern¬
ment was dissolved, a provisional government established,
and deputies from all the cantons were ordered to assemble
at Paris to deliberate upon a constitution for their country.
Several months were spent in debates; and Napoleon,
after he had heard and reflected on their representations,
promulgated an act of mediation, which was drawn up with
a view of reconciling opposite factions, and of fairly meet¬
ing various interests. It restored the old federative system,
but introduced very considerable improvements. The act Act of
of mediation was promulgated 19th February 1803; and™^^'
the Helvetic general government having been dissolved,A* *
and the new constitution put in force, the French troops
finally evacuated the country.
From that time till 1814 Switzerland enjoyed internal
peace ; and during the gigantic wars which at that momen¬
tous period raged throughout Europe, this country rested
in security amid the din of battles and the crash of falling
empires, and made rapid progress in the arts of industry
and in the career of intellectual and social improvement.
On the downfall of Napoleon, the act of mediation was dis¬
solved; but the integrity of the country was guaranteed by
the Congress of Vienna in 1815. The territories formerly New con-
dependent on the Bishop of Basle, which had been annexed stituti°I1’
to France, together with Valais, Neuchatel, and Geneva, A,D’
were ceded to it as new cantons, and a constitution, based
on the act of mediation, was framed for the whole cantons,
now amounting to twenty-two. On the 7th of August 1815
the federal compact was finally signed by all the deputies in
the diet assembled at Zurich. The deputies then repaired
in procession to the cathedral, where they bound them¬
selves by a solemn oath, and in the name of their consti¬
tuents, to the faithful observance of its enactments.
During the fifteen years which elapsed from 1815 to 1830,
Switzerland enjoyed profound tranquillity. rl he general
condition of the country was prosperous, and education was
improved in several districts; but the civil and criminal
laws remained in a defective state; the press was under a
strict censorship, and various anomalies existed in the insti¬
tutions of many of the cantons. Petitions were from time
to time presented for the revision of the constitution of
S WI T Z E K L A N D. 887
Statistics. 1814, but were everywhere rejected by the councils. The
first alteration of this state of things took place in the
canton of 1 icino in May and June 1830, and the example
was speedily followed by all the other representative can¬
tons of Switzerland. A new constitution established
equality of political rights among all the citizens of the
state; the direct system of electing all the members of the
legislature, the elections to take place every four years;
separation of the three powers, legislative, executive, and
judicial; publicity of debates; liberty of the press, subject
to fixed laws against libels; inviolability of person and pro¬
perty and the right of petition. No tax to be imposed un¬
less sanctioned by a majority of two-thirds in the great
council. The constitution not to be modified until twelve
years shall have elapsed from its enactment; and then any
alterations proposed in it must be submitted to the ap¬
proval of the primary assemblies of the people. These al¬
terations in their constitution were peaceably adopted by
the most of the cantons; but in some of them popular
tumults arose, which were speedily suppressed by the firm¬
ness and prudence of the Diet.
In 1834, the tranquillity of Switzerland was endangered by
a considerable body of Polish, German, and Italian refugees,
who had taken up their residence in Switzerland. In the
month of January, some hundreds of these refugees made a
sudden attack on the dominions of the king of Sardinia, in
expectation of combined attacks and insurrections in other
parts of the Sardinian monarchy. The Sardinian govern¬
ment made strong remonstrances to the confederation con¬
cerning this violation of the neutrality of the Swiss terri¬
tory ; and the courts of Austria, Prussia, and other German
states, whose territories border on Switzerland, joined in
these remonstrances. After some negotiations, the matter
was brought to an amicable termination by the Swiss go¬
vernments promising in future to send away from their ter¬
ritory all those who should attempt to disturb the tranquil¬
lity of other states.
The new law establishing a system of education for the
clergy in 1839 was opposed at first by the Protestants,
and the government at Zurich was dissolved. Aargau, in
1844, demanded the expulsion of the Jesuits; and in 1848,
in order to effect this, bodies of armed men, called the Free
Corps, were organised in several cantons. The Free
Corps under Colonel Ochsenbein having invaded Lucerne
were defeated, and in 1846 a separate league, termed the
Sonderbund, was formed by the seven Catholic cantons for
a defence against the Free Corps. In 1847 the Diet passed
a resolution declaring the illegality of the Sonderbund and
the expulsion of the Jesuits. The Federal army, under
General Dufour, having, in November of that year, de¬
feated the forces of the Sonderbund at Fribourg and at
Lucerne, the Catholic cantons submitted, the Jesuits were
expelled, and monasteries suppressed. On the 12th of
September 1848, the new constitution was promulgated.
With the exception of the attempt of a small aristocratic
party to separate Neuchatel from Switzerland and to incor¬
porate it with Prussia—an attempt which at once called
forth the strong opposition of the united cantons, and which
led to the entire separation of Neuchatel from Prussia and
its incorporation into Switzerland—the cantons have since
maintained their internal tranquillity and external independ¬
ence. During the late contest in Italy, between Austria
on the one hand and France and Sardinia on the other,
Switzerland maintained the strictest neutrality. (For far¬
ther notice see Government, &c.)
Physical The physical features of Switzerland are remarkable,
matures. and for beauty and grandeur are unsurpassed by those of.
any other country in Europe, being a singular assemblage
of lofty mountains, glaciers, valleys, ravines, rivers, and
lakes. Two groups of mountains are spread over its sur¬
face, the Jura on the W. and N.W., and the Alps on the
S.E. and centre. The Jura range is composed of six Statistics,
parallel ridges, lying in a S.W. and N.E. direction, with
few interruptions and no spurs. This range extends from Jura,
the neighbourhood of Geneva along the boundary between
France and the Pays de Vaud, and then enters the canton
of Neuchatel, which it almost entirely covers, as well as
the N.W. part of Berne, the greater part of Soleure and
Basle, and north-western Aargau. The hill of Bcezberg is
generally considered as the north-eastern extremity of the
Jurassic chain, although some geographers have adopted
the names of the Jura of Franconia and Swabia, for the
chain which receives in Germany the very undeserved title
of Rauhe Alp. The theoretic extension thus given to the
Jura as far as the neighbourhood of Ratisbon, is justified
by the analogy of direction, geology and fossil remains;
but the same may be said for the southern prolongation of
the chain to the south-west of Geneva, on both sides of the
Rhone as far as Seyssel in France, and the Mont du Chat
and Montagne de I’Epine, south-west of Chambery, thus
increasing its extent to more than 350 miles, instead of
250 as formerly calculated. Geologically speaking, the
Jura is composed of a nucleus of the bluish-grey limestone
called basic, covered with an upper stratum of oolitic
limestone of a yellowish hue. Fossil remains are abundant
in the latter, and have lately been found in great quan¬
tities in the Mormont, where the South-Western Railway
has been the cause of a deep cutting at La Sarraz, in the
canton of Vaud.
The Jura scarcely attains one-third of the height of the
Alps, yet, in proportion to its elevation, it is colder. The
highest summits occur in the ridge near to Geneva and
Lausanne, between the Fort de 1’Ecluse and Orbe, partly
in French territory. Although most frequently mentioned,
through the observations of De Luc and De Saussure, the
Dole, 5453 feet, is not the highest; Mount Tendre, the
Colombier, and the Reculet surpass it; and the Cret de la
Neige has been found by the French engineers to be 11
feet higher than the Reculet, 5642 feet. They do not,
however, rise into peaks, being but little superior to the
general level of the chain, and entirely destitute of the im¬
posing features of the Alps. Passages across the Jura are
little inferior in height to the general line of the crests; but
in a few cases, such as the gorges by which the Rhone at
Bellegarde, the Rhine, and the Doubs at Morteau, emerge
from their upper to their lower valleys, the chain is cut
through to its very foot, and sometimes presents stupendous
chasms. The Perte du Rhone, and the Malpertuis near Bil-
liat, 5 miles lower down, are the most renowned, the whole
body of the river being confined, in this portion of its
course, between two immense walls, of 600 feet in height,
into a channel estimated at from 15 to 50 feet in width.
From the radiating direction of the ridges, most of them Alps
centring in the neighbourhood of the St Gothard, the Alps
better deserve the name of a system than of a chain. The
main ridge, called the Pennine Alps, forms the boundary
between Canton Valais and Italy, and separates the basin of
the Upper Rhone on the north from that of the Po on the
south. To the south of Mont Blanc, the Alps consist of a
number of partly detached groups without well-defined
axes. Eastward they are divided into two great ranges,
which enclose the valley of the Upper Rhone, and meet
at Mount St Gothard, whence four ranges diverge: the
Bernese Alps to the west; the Alps of Claris and the
northern Grisons to the north-east; the south-east branch,
which forms the southern boundary of the Grisons on the
side of Italy; and the south-west branch, connecting the
St Gothard with the Pennine Alps. Between these ranges
are four large valleys,—those of the Rhone, the Reuss, the
Upper Rhine, and the Ticino. There is a remarkable dif¬
ference in the shape of the Alps, as they cover the central
and western parts of Switzerland, and in the Alps of Tyrol
888
SWITZERLAND;
Statistics.
Glaciers.
Natural
divisions.
Tableland,
Rivers.
Rhine.
Aar.
liinth
and the Grisons, or Rhaetian Alps. In the latter, though
the summits are inferior in altitude to those of Savoy? Obei-
land, and Valais, their mass is larger in comparison with the
width of the valleys, and is generally raised so high as to
have a greater part of its surface coveted with snows and
glaciers, or unfit for production. In Rhaetia the valleys are
mere deep alleys, which is the cause of the scanty popula¬
tion. The mean breadth of the highest portion of the Alps
does not exceed 100 miles, but it widens considerably as
you proceed eastward. Many of the valleys of the Grisons,
Engardine, &c., are, however, wide and open, and the charac¬
ter of the country seems to vary accordingly as the geolo¬
gical conformation is crystalline, slaty, or calcareous. 1 he
number of Swiss glaciers are reckoned at 605, of which
nine-tenths, or about 540, are in the following cantons :
255 in the Grisons, 155 in Berne, and 130 in Valais. The
supply of water they produce is discharged into the basins
of the following rivers : 170 glaciers into the Rhine, 15 to
the Linth, 25 to the Reuss, 160 to the Aar, 135 to the
Rhone, 35 to the Po, and 65 to the Inn.
M. Franscini, in his Statistique de la Suisse, divides Swit¬
zerland into five regions, viz., alpine region, of about 6950
square miles in extent, and containing 388,493 inhabitants ;
the eastern region, of about 1930 square miles, and 564,124
inhabitants ; the northern, of about 2130 square miles, and
803,395 inhabitants; the western or Jurassian, of about
2990 square miles, and 517,804 inhabitants; and the
Italian or southern, of about 1230 square miles, and 123,924
inhabitants. It may also be divided thus : 1. dhe alpine ;
2. the Jurassic ; 3. the southern part of the space lying
between these two ranges, in the form of a plain with iso¬
lated hills ; and, 4. the northern portion, traversed by ridges
of moderate elevation.
The tableland of Switzerland, lying to the north of the
alpine region and east of the Jura, is the finest and most
productive of the whole. It slopes from south to north,
from the foot of the Alps to the Rhine and the Lake of Con¬
stance, and includes the cantons of Vaud and Fribourg,
the greater part of Berne, Lucerne, and Aargau, the whole
of Zurich, Zug, Thurgau, and part of St Gall. The ele¬
vation of this tableland varies from 1200 to 1800 feet above
the sea. Its surface is furrowed by numerous valleys,
which generally run from south-east to north-west. Each
of these valleys is divided by its river, and various ranges
of wooded hills follow the course of the streams.
Four-fifths of Switzerland belongs to the basin of the
Rhine. This river has its rise in the Alps of the Grisons,
receives the waters of some of the glaciers of that lofty region,
and is at its source, Hinterrhein, at the foot of the glacier,
7268 feet above the level of the sea. Thence it pursues a
northerly direction to the lake of Constance, receiving on
its left the Tamina from the canton of St Gall, and on its
right the 111 from the Austrian territory. It issues from
the north-west portion of Lake Constance, at the town of
Stein, where it is 1300 feet above the sea; it then flows in
a tortuous but generally westerly direction to Basle, pass¬
ing by Schaffhausen, Waldshut, and Seckingen, receiving
the waters of the Thur, the Aar, and the Birs, forming for
a direct distance of about seventy miles the northern
boundary of Switzerland. At Basle, where it is 821 feet
above the sea, it turns abruptly to the north and leaves the
Swiss territory. The Falls of the Rhine are celebrated for
their grandeur.
The Aar flows through the lakes ot Brientz and Thun,
into the Rhine, having previously formed a cataract at Han-
deck; and receives the waters of the Limmat, Saane, Thiel
or Ziel, Emmen, and Reuss. At Aarberg the Aar is 1469,
and at its junction with the Rhine 1033 feet above the
level of the sea.
The Linth, a rapid stream, rises in the Alps of Claris, it
then flows through the lake of Wallenstadt, and is called the
Limmat: after marking the limits between Schwytz and Statistics;
St Gall, it forms the lake of Zurich, and, flowing through
part of the cantons of Zurich and Aargau, enters the Aar
below the confluence of the Reuss.
The Thur has its sources at Wildhaus, in the mountains Thur.
of High Toggenburg, in the canton of St Gall, and enters
the Rhine below Rheinau. Its level at its source is 3358,
at Bischoffzell 1500, and at its confluence with the Rhine,
1141 feet above the level of the sea.
The Birs has its rise in the Jura, to the east of the pass Birs.
of Pierre Pertuis, flows through the cantons of Berne and
Basle, and enters the Rhine just above the town of Basle.
The Thiel or Zihl also has its source in the Jura, under Thiel,
the name of Orbe, and is at the Lac de Joux 3312 feet
above the sea ; flows through the Lac des Brenets, where it
disappears, and after a great subterranean descent, makes
its re-appearance at the spot called “ Source of the Orbe,”
where it is 1459 feet above the sea; it then flows through
the lakes of Neuchatel and Bienne, and soon after, leaving
the latter, enters the Aar at an altitude of 1416 feet above
the sea.
The Saane has its source in the Bernese Alps, and after Saane.
a rapid course of about 70 miles, in which it passes Saanen,
Freibourg, and Laupen, enters the Aar a few miles below
the latter town.
The Rhone is formed from a glacier below the Pass of Rhone,
the Furca, in the north-eastern extremity of the Valais, at a
height of 5500 feet above the sea. Descending rapidly to
Oberwald, it proceeds in a south-west direction past Brieg
and Sion to Martigny, when it turns abruptly to the north¬
west, and continues in that direction to its entrance into
Lake Leman. It issues from this lake at Geneva, below
which it receives the Arve from the valley of Chamouni,
and quits the Swiss territory near Chanci, the last village
of the canton of Geneva.
The Arve does not strictly belong to Switzerland, the Arve.
greater part of its course being through Savoy, but it is the
most considerable alpine tributary to the Rhone, into which
it flows about 1 mile below Geneva. It is at the source,
near the village Du Tour, 4277 feet above the sea, has a
course of 65 miles, and at its mouth is 1222 feet above the
sea-level: it discharges into the Rhone, on the average, 4300
cubic feet of water per second.
The Inn rises in some small lakes near the Maloya Inn>
Pass, is fed by the glaciers on the north side of the Bernina
range, and, after flowing through the Grisons in a general
N.E. direction, leaves the Swiss territory at Finstermunz.
The Ticino issues from Mount Gries, and traverses the
Lago Maggiore in Italy.
The Swiss rivers are subject to rises during the summer Ticin0>
season of sometimes as much as 16 feet. 4 heir lowest
waters last generally from the beginning ot November to
the end of March, their highest state is in the month of
June; and from the middle ot July to the end of October
they preserve their average volume. The Falls of the Rhine
are 78 feet in height, those of the Doubs 88 feet, and the
underground fall of the Thiel or Orbe, from the valley of
Joux to its re-appearance near Vallorbes, 741 feet.
The lake of Geneva or Leman, the great reservoir of the Lakes.
Rhone, spreads in the form of a crescent, its northern bank l. Genevs
being about 56 miles in length, and the southern bank
about 46. Its breadth near the centre is about 9 miles, but
it becomes much narrower towards Geneva. 1 he surface
of the lake is 1230 feet above the level of the sea, its
greatest depth is about 1100 feet, and its area 340 square
—:i jt receives several streams, the principal being the
miles.
Dranse, from the Alps of Savoy, and the Vevayse and the
Yenoge, from the Swiss side. The lake of Geneva is known
to have been frozen over only twice—in a.d. 762 and 805.
It is subject to remarkable risings, called seiches, of from
4 to 5 feet, lasting about 25 minutes. Several steamers
SWITZERLAND.
889
Statistics,
L. Con-
stance.
L. Four
Cantons.
L. of Zu¬
rich.
Ij. of Neu-
chatel.
L. of Bi-
enne.
L. of Wal-
lenstadt,
Ac.
Metals.
ply between Geneva, Merges, Ouchy for Lausanne, Vevey,
and Villeneuve.
The lake of Constance, or Boden See, is about 42 miles
long and 9 miles wide. It surface is 1300 feet above the
level of the sea, its area is about 290 square miles, and its
greatest depth is 1800 feet. Numerous steamers navigate
this lake.
The lake of the Four Cantons, or Vier Waldstatter
See, is 26 miles in length. The southern part, called the
lake of Uri, is a sheet of deep water, 8 miles long, and be¬
tween 1 and 2 broad, running from south to north between
two almost perpendicular ranges of mountains ; a narrow
channel unites it with the middle basin, which is about 9
miles in length and about 2 wide. Another strait leads
from the middle into the western basin, called the lake of
Lucerne, the widest and finest of the three. The surface
of the lake is 1428 feet above the sea, and its greatest depth
is 1000 feet. The country around the Waldstatter See is
the cradle of Swiss independence, and many of the locali¬
ties possess great historical interest from the exploits of its
heroes. Steamboats ply between Lucerne and Kiissnacht,
and Lucerne and Fluellen, the port of Alton.
The lake of Zurich, formed by the Limmat, is 24 miles
long, and from 1 to 2 miles wide. Its greatest depth is
600 feet, and its surface is 1341 feet above the level of the
sea. Steamboats run on this lake between Zurich, Horgen,
Richterschwyl, Rapperschwyl, and Schmerikon.
The lake of Neuchatel is about 30 miles in length, and
5 miles broad throughout one-half of its length. It is 1426
feet above the sea, and has a depth of 350 feet. Steamers
ply on this lake, and through the Thiel river on that of
Bienne, connecting the railways of Yverdon and Nidau.
The lake of Bienne is about 10 miles long and 2 wide ;
the level of its surface is 8 feet below that of Neuchatel,
and its greatest depth is 217 feet.
Besides these there are several other lakes of consider¬
able extent, such as the lake of Wallenstadt, or Wallensee,
an expansion of the Seer, and lately artificially connected
with the Linth, 11 miles in length, and 1394 feet above the
level of the sea; and the lakes of Brientz and Thun, both
formed by the Aar; the latter, 13 miles long, has a depth
of 800 feet, and is 1823 feet above the sea. Steamboats ply
on this lake, which is much visited by tourists from Berne.
The fish these lakes contain are trout, pike, salmon, tench,
carp, perch, and a very delicate fish called umber. The col¬
lective extent of the twenty-two largest lakes is about 1035
square miles, of which 260 have to be subtracted as being
out of the Swiss territory. The remainder, about 775
square miles, is about one-twentieth of the whole country.
The variation of level in the lake of Geneva is 6 feet, and
in the lake of Neuchatel 7 feet 5 inches ; the lowest state
in the latter is in August, while in the former it is in spring.
Switzerland receives a considerable supply of metals from
abroad, a great portion of which, however, is again exported
in a manufactured state. Iron is produced to the amount
of about 10,000 tons annually, of which 5000 tons of excel¬
lent character is produced by the Bernese Jura, 1900 tons
by Soleure, 1100 by Schaffhausen, and 450 tons from Ardon
in the Valais. Salt is produced to the amount of 13,000
tons ; of which the works at Schweitzerhall, near Basle, yield
11,000 tons, and the remainder by those at Bex; the salt
works at Rheinfelden and Kaiser Augst in Aargau have
been abandoned. About 250 tons of copper is produced
annually, and 500 tons of lead. There are some mines of
anthracite coal of a poor quality, at Outre-Rhone, Salvant,
Iserable, in Valais, and a few other places. Among the
other mineral productions of Switzerland are marble, ala¬
baster, gypsum, slate, granite, and other kinds of building
stone; sulphur near Lake Thun; asphalte in the Valais;
and particles of gold are found in the sands of some of the
rivers, but not in sufficient quantities to pay for the search.
VOL. xx.
The number of mineral springs in Switzerland is very Statistics,
great; there are as many as twenty first-rate watering- /
places, and a great number of inferior ones. The most Spring8>
frequented are those of Pfeffers and Leuk. The temperature
of the springs at the former is 360,6' centigrade, or 98 Fahr.,
and at the latter 50°-6' centigrade, or 123 Fahr. Those ot >
Baden, Schinznack, St Moritz, Heirnichsbad, Rosenlaui,
and Stachelberg, are also well known, and much visited.
The observations of Kaemtz on the Rigi, Schoner on Climate,
the St Gothard, Bravais on the Faulhorn, and Plantamour
on the Great St Bernard, show the average diminution of
temperature to be of 1° of the centigrade thermometer for
about 570 feet of ascension. The temperature of a place
does not, however, altogether depend on its elevation, but
also upon the proximity of large glaciers, the reflection of
heat from adjoining slopes, and in the mobility of the
atmosphere. The slopes are heated by ascending currents
of warm air from the valleys; the neighbourhood of gla¬
ciers has always, and that of lakes very often, a cooling
influence, and are subject during the warmest hours of a ... »
summer day to a motion of cool air originating in the same
cause as that which produces the land and sea breezes
on the shores of the ocean. At a height of about 8000
feet the average temperature is not above freezing point.
The average temperature of Berne is 45° Fahr., that of
Basle 46°, and that of Geneva 46^°.
Among the wild animals of Switzerland are the bear, Animals,
wolf, wild boar, ibex, deer, and game of all kinds ; the mar¬
mot, ermines, &c. Large birds of prey are common in the
mountains, but the chamois is becoming scarce, and bears
and wolves are found in some districts only.
Switzerland is distinguished for the extent and excel¬
lence of its pastures, and the number of cattle they support,
though in opposition to received opinion, the Swiss import
more cattle than they export; the numbers of late years
having been in the average 72,000 and 50,000; they are,
however, imported when young and sold when fat, in addi¬
tion to which there is greater profit derived from cheese
and hides than from selling the cattle themselves, as their
keep is not expensive. Early in the spring, on the dis¬
appearance of the snow, they are sent into the lower pas¬
tures ; in the beginning of June they are moved into the
middle pastures, and a portion of them ascend into the
highest pastures during July and August. The number of
cattle in Switzerland is estimated at 875,000 ; the number
of horses at 105,000 ; that of sheep 405,000; that of goats
376,000; and that of pigs 279,000; the cattle and goats
are on the increase, but the horses and pigs are on the
decrease.
In Switzerland agriculture is carried on to the greatest Agricul-
perfection that the climate and soil of such a country willture-
allow. By means of trenches and sluices water is con¬
veyed from the mountains to any required point: extreme
care is taken to economise and render available the manure
obtained from their herds; and great judgment is shown
in the culture of the different kinds of soil. Even appa¬
rently sterile and unavailable slopes are made use of,
mould being carried up from below and spread upon them
in the form of terraces. The use of animal labour in agri¬
cultural operations is not extensive, chiefly owing to the
rugged surface of the country; and nearly everything is
done by hand. The grain crops are inferior in quantity,
but the pasturage is extremely good, and its bright verdure
such as to render it a distinguishing feature of the country.
The vine is cultivated in several localities, and some of the
wines produced are of a very good quality. The cultiva¬
tion of tobacco is undergoing great development, especially
in the northern part of Vaud, which yields a cheap though
rather indifferent produce. The domestic economy of a
Swiss country household is very simple; from their land
and cattle they can supply nearly the whole of their wants,
5 u
890
Statistics.
Commerce.
Import
duties.
Transit
trade.
Railways.
Manufac¬
tures.
SWITZERLAND.
and the profits of their dairy afford them the small sums of
money they require. The quantity of timber at present
exported exceeds L.86,000 in value, but this must ultima¬
tely have a very bad effect on the country, as it is so lar
bevond the rate of growth. 0 . . .
Previous to 1852 commerce throughout Switzerland was
limited by a number of internal duties, which were exacted
at many of the frontiers of particular cantons. From that
time, however, a general line of custom-house offices has
been drawn round its frontiers, and one general taiiff of
duties established by the central government, which, though
moderate, is very complicated, and shows that the Swiss
legislators have derived but little profit from the example
given to Europe by England and Sir Robert Peel. Nobody
would believe that singing birds have the honour of figur¬
ing in the Swiss tariff. Geneva, where free trade had
always been practical, suffered very much by the change,
but other cantons gained in proportion as they were more
or less fettered previously. The national import duties are
divided by the federal government, and each canton in
proportion to the number of inhabitants. Each canton is
at liberty to levy excise duties. The federal revenue and
expenditure of Switzerland for each of the years 1855, ’56,
and ’57, is as follows :—
1855. 1856. 1857.
Revenue L.642,600 650,000 627,440
Expenditure,.... 619,000 643,320 608,240
Since the abolition of internal customs, the transit trade
has increased from 391,000 quintals in 1852 to 597,000 in
1856, out of an import trade which amounted in bulk
to 1,890,400 quintals in 1840, 2,652,200 in 1849, and
10,297,055 upon an average from 1852 to 1857 -a rate of
increase greatly beyond that of the population. The pro¬
gression is the same with regard to value ; the imports and
exports together amounted in 1842 to L.18,553,643, in
1852 to L.28,452,219, and, on the average, from 1852 to
1855, to L.40,606,177. The last sum gives a proportion
of L.16 to each individual; while in Belgium it is L. 12 ; in
France, L.4; in the Zollverein, 66s.; in Sardinia, 50s.j
and in Austria, 34s. Ot the total sum of LAO,666,11 /,
L. 14,000,000 should, however, be deducted as only transit
trade, reducing the actual amount due to each individual
Swiss to L.10, 10s. France and Lombardy receive but
little Swiss produce for their home consumption, while
Switzerland receives from the former wines, spirits, and
corn, and from the latter silk to a large amount.
The railway system of Switzerland, considering the
physical difficulties presented by the country, is very exten¬
sive, most of the large towns ot the north and cential poi-
tions being connected by this means. T. he electric tele¬
graph is also much used, there being a total length of over
two thousand miles laid down.
The watches, for the manufacture of which Switzerland
is famous, are mostly made at Geneva, Neuchatel, Val St
Imier, the valley of Joux, and the Val de St Croix, in the
Jura of Vaud. This branch of industry, together with that
of jewellery, employs about 23,000 people, and the number
of watches made annually is about 190,000. The value of
those exported in 1853 was L.l 17,000, and L.255,000 in
1857; but though the quantity produced is thus greatly
on the increase, the quality is said not to be so good as for¬
merly, owing, it is believed, to the growing immorality of the
workmen in the large towns.
The silk manufactures employ a great number of people
in the canton of St Gall, and the manufacture of ribbons is
carried on at Basle. In addition to the large quantity of
silk imported for these branches of industry, a considerable
quantity is produced in Switzerland itself. About five-
sixths of the raw material imported comes from Lombardy,
and about two-thirds of the manufactured fabrics exported
passes through France, and the remainder through the
Zollverein. The cotton manufactures are very animated, Statistics,
and it is estimated that they employ more than 660,000
spindles. In Zurich there are 330,000 spindles and 76
mills at work; in Argovia, 137,000; in St Gall, 85,000;
in Claris, 62,000; and in Thurgovia, 22,500.
The manufacture of cutlery and cheap mathematical
instruments, a great number ot which come to the
London market, is carried on to a great extent at Aaiau and
Zurich.
Switzerland forms the centre where three great con- p0pula-
tinental races meet; the Teutonic Swiss occupy the northern tion.
cantons, the French the western, and the Italians the
canton of Ticino and the southern valleys of the Grisons;
while those speaking the language called Homansch a
dialect somewhat similar to Latin, occupy half the Grisons.
Of the whole population 1,680,000, or about two-thirds,
speak German; 540,000, French; 130,000, Italian; and
42,000 the Romanic dialects in the Grisons. Notwithstand¬
ing these peculiarities of language, and the variety of physi¬
cal features, they have lived so long together in a state of
confederation as to have assumed quite a national character,
and may be looked upon as one people. The French
language has long been on the increase.
The annual average of the births in Switzerland during Births and
the three years 1850, ’51, and ’52, was 70,000, being in deaths,
proportion to the population as 1 to 34. The proportion
of the males to the females with regard to the number of
births is as 15 to 14, while to the total population it is as
40 to 41; so that, though there are more males born, they
are on the average shorter lived than the females. 1 he
porportion of illegitimate to legitimate births is as 1 to 18.
The annual average of marriages during the same period
was 16,270, being in proportion to the population as 1 to
147. The average annual number of deaths during these
three years was 55,500, being in proportion to the popula¬
tion as 1 to 43.
Before 1798 Switzerland consisted of a confederation ot
states of three very different kinds:—1. Thirteen cantons;
2. the subjects or vassals of these cantons ; and 3. the allies
of these cantons. The federal bond uniting the various
cantons was very loose, and there was no permanent sove¬
reign body, or central government, equally acknowledged
by all. No important questions could be decided ^in the
general diets, unless it had been previously debated and
decided on in the councils of each of the cantons. I he
subjects of the Swiss were either subjects of certain par¬
ticular cantons, or common bailiwicks subject to all the
cantons. The whole population of the thirteen cantons at
the close of last century was about 1,000,000; that of their
subjects was about 250,000; and that of their associates
and confederates, and the subjects of these confederates,
amounted to nearly half a million more. Altogether, the
territory belonging to the Helvetic Federal Body contained
a population of about 1,700,000.
By the present constitution, promulgated in 1848, the Govern-
general affairs of the Confederation are intrusted to a ment.
National Council, the members of which are elected for
three years, and in the proportion of one to 20,000 inhabi¬
tants ; and the council of the states, composed of forty-four
deputies, two for each canton. Formerly these used to
assemble at Berne, Zurich, and Lucerne alternately, but
Berne is now fixed upon as the regular place ,of meeting.
A president of the Federal Council and six members, to
form an executive government, are chosen by the national
council and the council of the states together every three
years. The two councils also elect the Iribunal federal,
consisting of eleven judges, for three years; and conflicts
between the cantons, and between them and the federal
council, are decided by this high court. Each canton has
sovereign authority in its own affairs, with the exception ot
certain rights which are vested in the federal power, such
s w o
Swords as the declaration of war, the conclusion of peace, custom-
11 > house duties, post-office, telegraphs, &c. The form of
v ybaris-, government is republican, and is vested in assemblies elected
^ by the people, all the male population, above a certain age,
having a vote, without respect of property qualification.
The cantons are subdivided into 177 districts and 3059 com¬
munes. The general desire seems to be towards a greater
amount of centralization than formerly, but it is still
thwarted by the private interests and jealousies of separate
cantons. They have, however, recently adopted a national
coinage and system of measures ; the coinage being the
same as that of France.
Army. There is no standing army in Switzerland, but every
S Y D 891
able-bodied man, up to a certain age, is called out for a Sydenham,
short period in every year and drilled. The number of the
elite, or those who are supposed always to be in readiness
for service if required, is 77,000; the reserve, 43,000 ; and
the landwehr, 57,000; making thus a total of 177,000 men
in the event of an emergency. In the winter of 1856, when
threatened by Prussia, they placed on foot, within a few
months, an army of 200,000 men, well provided with artil¬
lery, and proposed to encounter one of the first powers in
Europe. The Swiss are very skilful marksmen, devoting a
great deal of time to rifle practice, and holding annual
matches near one or other of the great towns, at which all
the best shots compete for a prize. (n. s.)
SWORDS, a market-town of Ireland, on the right bank
of a river of the same name, in the county and 8 miles
north by east of Dublin. It is for the most part very
meanly built; and has a Gothic church, a Roman Catholic
chapel, a small court-house, and an endowed school. There
is neither trade nor manufactures, and the place is in a very
decaying condition. Here stands one of the remarkable
round towers of Ireland, about 80 feet high. Pop. 1294.
SYBARIS, a celebrated ancient city of Magna Graecia,
near the west shore of the Gulf of Tarentum, between the
mouths of the rivers Sybaris and Crathis. It seems to
have been the earliest Greek colony in this part of Italy;
for it is said to have been founded in 720 B.c., by colonists
from Helice in Achaia. Situated as it was in a fertile plain,
the new settlement rapidly rose to a high degree of pros¬
perity, and became a large and populous city. Contrary to
the custom of most of the Greek states, settlers from other
countries were freely admitted at Sybaris ; and this was very
probably one cause of its size and prosperity. Its wealth
and luxury were proverbial, and have probably been much
exaggerated by ancient writers. But there is no good
reason to doubt that Sybaris had attained, in the sixth
century B.c., a greater amount of power and riches than
had been reached by any Greek state before. Its terri¬
tories extended to the opposite shore of the peninsula,
where it founded the colonies of Laus, Scidrus, and Posi-
donia; and, according to Strabo, it was mistress of twenty-
five dependent cities, most of them probably towns in the
interior. Numerous details are given by ancient writers
about the magnificence and luxury of the Sybarites ; but
besides the intrinsic absurdity of many of these tales, it is
a suspicious circumstance that these accounts are given with
so much minuteness, while we are told so little of the his¬
tory of the city, u'ith the exception of these events that, led
immediately to its fall. One of these wonderful stories
relates how Sminclyrides, a citizen of Sybaris, went to
court Agarista, daughter of Clisthenes, tyrant of Sicyon,
followed by a train of more than 1000 of his own per¬
sonal attendants, including cooks, fishermen, &c. Unfor¬
tunately, with all this equipage, he did not find favour with
the young lady or her father, although he surpassed and
astonished all Greece with his magnificence and luxury.
There is probably very little truth in these accounts of
Sybaris ; and as little in the assertion of Strabo, that it
could bring into the field an army of 300,000 of its own
citizens.
It seems to have arrived at its greatest prosperity soon
af ter 580 B.c.; but towards the middle of that century
political dissensions rose to a violent degree. The govern¬
ment had been for a long time oligarchical, probably in the
hands of the wealthier classes; but a democratic party,
under a leader called Telys, at length succeeded in gaining
the upper hand, and compelled a number of the opposite
party to go into exile. The aristocratic city of Crotona
afforded a refuge to the fugitives; but Telys and his sup¬
porters demanded to have them given up. This demand
having been refused, led to a declaration of war against
Crotona on the part of the Sybarites. The two armies
met near the river Trais, where the Sybarites, though more
than three times the number of their enemies, were totally
defeated with great loss. The Crotonian army pursued
the fugitives to the very gates of Sybaris, which they took
without further resistance. Determined to carry out their
vengeance to the very last, they laid the city in ruins, and
turned the course of the Crathis into it, so that it should
never more be inhabited. This happened in 510 b.c.
Those who survived its ruin took refuge in the colonies of
Laus and Scidrus; and when they attempted, in 452, to re¬
build the city, they were driven away by the Crotoniats, a
little more than five years after. On this they applied for
assistance to the Spartans, but without success ; afterwards,
however, they obtained the aid of the Athenians, who re¬
solved not only to restore these settlers, but to send col¬
onists of their own along with them. The result of this
was the foundation of Thurii, near the site of the ancient
city ; but Sybaris itself never was restored. No traces
have yet been discovered of its remains.
SYDENHAM, a hamlet and chapelry in the parish of situation
Lewisham, Kent, 4 miles from Deptford, and 8 miles S.S.E. and statis-
from London, lies partly in a deep and pleasant valley, and tics,
partly on a considerable hill, environed by much agreeable
scenery, which, spite of railroads, still retains somewhat of
its rural character. Houses, however, are rapidly springing
up on every side, and Sydenham will soon form a portion
of subqrban London. There are here (1.) a station on the
London and South Coast Railway, bringing the metropolis
within twenty minutes’ ride ; and (2.) at Lower Sydenham,
a station on the London and Southborough Road branch of
the Mid Kent Line.
The population of Sydenham, in 1841, was 2915; in
1851 it had increased to 4501. In the former year there
were 516 inhabited houses, 40 uninhabited, and 20 build¬
ing ; in the latter, the inhabited houses numbered 801 ; the
uninhabited, 47 ; houses building, 28. In 1640 a mineral¬
spring, afterwards known as the Sydenham Wells, was dis¬
covered in this vicinity. Its properties were mildly cath¬
artic, and resembled those of the Epsom waters; but it has
long ceased to be recommended by the faculty, or made use
of by invalids. The poet Campbell was a resident at Syden¬
ham from 1804 to 1821. His house was situated on Peak
Hill, looking towards Forest Hill. He left Sydenham for
lodgings at 62 Margaret Street, Cavendish Square, on as¬
suming the editorship of the New Monthly Magazine. The
living of Sydenham is a perpetual curacy in the patronage of
the Earl of Dartmouth, valued at L.248 yearly. The church,
a neat and graceful edifice, is dedicated to St Bartholomew.
The Crystal Palace is situated within the Sydenham district, Crystal
and a branch from the London and Brighton Railway diverges at Palace.
892
Sydenham.
SYDENHAM.
the Sydenham station to a terminus within the palace grounds. Its
V , site forms a portion of an estate of 290 acres, known as Penge Place
(purchased by the Crystal Palace Company m 1852), and from its
great elevation commands a fine view of the c oudy roofs of the
great metropolis, and extensive prospects in Kent and Surrey.
The building itself is a great improvement upon the structure of
glass and iron which enshrined, in 1851, the industrial exhibition
of all nations in Hyde Park, and must be regarded as a satisfactory
monument of the engineering skill and mechanical enterprise of the
England of the nineteenth century. The Hyde Park building was
marked by too great a monotony, and its elevation was dispropor¬
tionate to its length ; but in the Sydenham palace an agreeable
effect is produced by the three transepts, by the lofty arch of tbe
centre and the recesses in the garden front. The dimensions are
given ’by the authorities as—length, 1608 feet; greatest width,
384 feet ; general width, 312 feet ; area, including wings, 603,072
feet • height of nave, from ground floor, 110 feet 3 inches; height
of central transept from ground floor, 174 feet 3 inches; height
of central transept from basement, 197 feet 10 inches; area occu¬
pied by the galleries, 261,568 feet. The girders which support the
galleries and roof work are of cast-iron, and 24 feet long. The
first gallery is reached by a flight of stairs, 23 feet high ; the upper
gallery, by spiral staircases, about 40 feet in height. If all the
columns made use of in this superb structure were laid out in a
straight line, they would extend 16| miles. The iron employed
amounts to 9641 tons, 17 cwt., and 28 lb.; the superficial quantity
of glass used is 25 acres, and weighs 500 tons. The colonnade
leading from the palace to the railway station is 720 feet long, 17
fe^t wide, and 18 feet high, consuming, so to speak, 60 tons of iron,
and 30,000 superficial feet of glass.
The palace is heated by hot water, on a system designed by its
principal architect, Sir Joseph Paxton, who had formerly submitted
it to the test of experience at Chatsworth. On this point it will be
sutficient to state, that the hot water pipes employed, if placed in
a straight line, would reach 60 miles ; and that the boiler-houses
erected in the basement story contain 22 boilers, each holding
11,000 gallons of water.
The inte- The interior of the palace presents many objects of attraction,
rior. blending together, perhaps too confusedly, the beauties of art and
the wonders of mechanical industry. How far the palace may ad¬
vantageously be made use of as a grand educational agency, work¬
ing at a definite object, it is not now our province to inquire ; but
in spite of many errors of judgment, and, as it seems to us, of taste,
there can be no doubt that it exercises a considerable and a bene¬
ficial influence upon the minds of its visitors, and that its general
tendency is to enlarge their comprehension, refine their ideas, and
quicken their perceptions. The most attractive featuies are, prob¬
ably, the Courts ; those portions of the building which are devoted
to the illustration of architecture, domestic and ecclesiastical, in its
various stages of progress. In these the curious visitor may obser\ e
a reproduction of the houses of the Greeks, Romans, and Pompeians ;
and a visible embodiment of the distinctive features of the Byzan¬
tine art; English, German, and French medievalism; the Renai-
sance style, the Elizabethan, and the Italian. The Alhambra, the
glories of old Thebes and Memphis, and the wonders of Nineveh
are also illustrated—in miniature, it is true, but with considerable
effect and commendable accuracy. The arrangement of these de¬
tails were confided to such authorities as Messrs Digby Wyatt,
Owen Jones, Penrose, Layard, Bonomi, J. B. Waring, and George
Scharf, jun., names which may reasonably be accepted as a guar¬
antee for historical fidelity and general excellence.
Sculpture. Not the least praiseworthy feature of the internal arrangement
is the exhibition of fine sculptures from the antique, and copious
illustrations of the genius of modern art. The master-pieces of the
artists of the old classic world ; of the greatest geniuses of I ranee,
Germany, and England, are here brought before the eye of the
spectator in such juxtaposition that he may, if he will, contrast
wilh ease their relative excellences, the elegance of Canova with the
severe grandeur of Thorwaldsen, and the ideal beauty of Baily
with the classicism of Gibson. From Paris and Munich, from
Florence and Venice, from Rome and Milan, experienced emissaries
have procured casts of world-famous statues, and accurate copies of
notable frescos, monuments, screens, ornamental arches, or richly-
decorated doorways, which, if we accept the well-known axiom of
Keats, that “a thing of beauty is a joy for ever,” must amply re-
pa,y the visitor to the Crystal Palace for any fatigue his perambula¬
tions of its magnificent corridors may entail.
The gar 'J'h6 palace and its grounds occupy an area of about 200 acres,
dens. a,nd it may be noted, says the official Handbook, that, in the forma¬
tion of the gardens, the same uniformity of parts is adhered to as
in the building itself; that is to say, the width of the w'alks, the
width and length of the basins of the fountains, the length of the
• terraces, the breadth of the steps, are all multiples and sub-
multiples of the one primary number of eight. Thus, an har¬
monious combination is effected, which the spectator admires and Sydenhatn.
acknowledges, though ignorant of its cause. _ v J
The length of the upper terrace is 1576 feet; its width, 48 feet.
The central flight of steps, and the grand central walk, are each
96 feet wide. The lower terrace is 1664 feet in length, and 512
feet in width. The total length of the garden front of this terrace
is 1896 feet; of the central walk already alluded to, 2660 feet.
The gardens exemplify the more attractive features both of the
Italian and English styles, and from their gradual slope are sus¬
ceptible of infinite effects of light and shade, while commanding,
from almost every point, the richest prospects imaginable of the
surrounding country.
The water-works claim from us a word of passing notice. There ihe w ater-
are two series of fountains—the upper and the lower ; the upper works,
consisting of nine basins, of which the central is of superior dimen- - - ^
sions ; the lower, of the iron water-temples, from which twelve
cascades pour down a volume of water, extending a distance of 600
feet* and the two great fountains, into whose basins this volume
rushes in a sort of cataract, 120 feet in breadth, and 30 feet in fall.
The smaller fountains in the upper series fling their columns of
spray to a height of 90 feet, the central fountain attains an alti¬
tude of 150 feet: the iron water-temples are 60 feet in height.
The basins of the great fountains, the largest in the world, are 704
feet long, with a diameter of 418 feet. A great central column
mounts in each to the astonishing altitude of 280 feet, each column
composed of 50 2-inch jets. The whole system of fountains pro¬
vides for the action of 11,788 jets, making use of 120,000 gallons
of water per minute. To Sir Joseph Paxton is due the credit of
their construction.
Admission to the palace is gained by yearly tickets, at one
guinea each; and day-tickets, one shilling each, on every day but
Saturday, when their price is two shillings and sixpence.
[Lysons’ Environs of London j Hasted s Lent, cyrus Redding S
Life of Campbell; Howitt’s Homes and Haunts of English Poets;
Official Handbooks ; and Annual Reports of the Crystal Palace Com¬
pany.] (w>
SYDENHAM, Thomas—the greatest name in English
practical medicine—was born in 1624 at W inford Eagle,
Dorsetshire, where his father, William Sydenham, had a
fine estate. He was a commoner of Magdalen Hall, Ox¬
ford, 1642, but was obliged to leave that city when it
became a royal garrison, not having taken up arms for the
king, as the students of those days generally did. In 1649,
after the garrison delivered np Oxford to the Parliamentary
forces, he returned to Magdalen Hall, and was created Ba¬
chelor of Physic on the Pembrokean creation, when Lord
Pembroke became chancellor of the university, and honorary
degrees were conferred. This was in April 1648. He had
not previously taken any degree in arts. He then, on sub¬
mitting to the authority of the visitors appointed by the Par¬
liament, was made by them (at the intercession of a relative)
Fellow of All Souls, in the room of one of the many ejected
Royalists. He continued for some years earnestly prose¬
cuting his profession, and left Oxford without taking any
other degree. He was also, according to his own account,
in a letter to Dr Gould, fellow-commoner of Wadham Col¬
lege in the year Oxford surrendered. It is not easy to un¬
derstand why he went to Wadham, as he was not a fellow but
a fellow-commoner—equivalent to a gentleman commoner
in Cambridge—unless it was that, on returning to Magdalen
Hall, he found himself, as a Parliamentarian, more at home
in Wadham—where the then head was John Wilkins,
Cromwell’s brother-in-law—a man of genius and of a keen
scientific spirit, and afterwards and still famous as Bishop of
Chester—one of the founders of the Royal Society, which
first met at Oxford; and author, among other works, of a dis¬
course on a Universal Language and of an Inquiry as to
the best Way of Travelling to the Moon ; a man of rare parts
and worth, and of a liberality in religion and science then
still rarer, being according to Anthony Wood, “ an excellent
mathematician and experimentist, and one as well seen
in the new philosophy as any of his timesuch a man
would be sure to cordialise with Sydenham, who was of
the Baconian or genuine Empiric school; and who, in the
“ new philosophy,” saw the day spring of all true scientific
progress. It is not clear when Sydenham settled in Lon-i
SYDENHAM. 893
Sydenham, don, or more properly speaking in Westminster, it cer-
tainly was beibre 1661. In 1663 he was admitted a
licentiate of the College of Physicians of London, he never
was a fellow ; his degree of doctor of medicine was taken at
Cambridge in 1676, long after he was in full practice, his
college being Pembroke; his diploma is signed by Isaac
Barrow. His reason probably for taking a Cambridge
degree may have been that his eldest son was a pensioner
at that college.
Sydenham’s elder brother, William, was a distinguished
soldier and politician during the Commonwealth. This,
along with his own likings, and his love of the new philo¬
sophy, prevented him, during the reigns of the second
Charles and James, from enjoying court favour. It has
often been doubted whether Sydenham actually served in
the army of the Parliament; but from an anecdote known
generally as Dr Lettsom’s, but which appears first in a
curious old controversial book by Dr Andrew Brown, the
Vindicatory Schedule, published two years after Syden¬
ham’s death, it is made quite certain that he did.
Before settling in London he seems, on the authority of
Desault, to have visited Montpelier, and to have attended
the lectures of the famous Barbeyrac. After this he devoted
himself to his profession, and became the greatest physi¬
cian of his time, in spite of the court, and of the College
of Physicians ; by one of whose fellows—Lister—he was
called “ a miserable quack.” He suffered for many of the
later years of his life from the gout, his description of
which has become classical, and died in his house, Pall-
Mall—or as he spells it, Pell-Mell—in 1689. He lies
buried in St James, Westminster, with the following noble
because true inscription:—“ Prope hunc locum sepultus
est Thomas Sydenham, medicus in omne cevum nobilis,
natus erat, j.d. 1624 ; vixit annos 65.” His works, which
became rapidly popular during his lifetime, and to an
extraordinary extent soon after his death—there were
upwards of twenty-five editions in less than a hundred
years—consist chiefly of occasional pieces, extorted from
him by his friends, and often in the form of letters, none of
them are formal treatises, and all are plainly the result of
his own immediate reflection and experience. One is greatly
struck at the place he occupies in the writings of all the
great medical authors at the end of the seventeenth and
beginning of the eighteenth centuries. Morton, Willis, Boer-
haave, Gaubius, Bordeu, &c., always speak of him as second
in sagacity to “ the divine Hippocrates” alone. Boerhaave
never mentioned him in his class without lifting his hat,
and called him Anglice lumen, artis Phcebum, veram Hip-
pocratici viri speciem. His simple, manly views of the
nature and means of medicine as an art seem to have come
upon the profession like revelations ; it was as if the men
in Plato’s cavern, who had been all their lives with their
backs to the light, studying their own shadows, had sud¬
denly turned round and gazed on the broad face of the
outer world, lying in sunshine before them.
All Sydenham’s works are in Latin, and though from his
education and tastes, and the habits of his time, and also
from the composition of the Processus Integri—brief notes
left by him for his sons’ use, and published after his death—
there is little doubt he could have written them in that
tongue, there seems every likelihood that he was assisted
in this by his friends Drs Mapletoft and Havers. There
are three English translations—one by Dr Pechey, another
by Dr Swan, to which is prefixed a life by Samuel Johnson,
among his earliest performances, and published by Cave, and
the last, the Sydenham Society’s edition, by Dr Latham.
This, we believe, is nearly all of a personal kind we
know, or are likely to know of this great and good man—
his private tastes and worth we can only infer from his
associates. He who had the right and the honour to call
John Locke comwictissimus, and who lived on cordial terms
with Boyle and all the best men of his time, was not likely Sydenham-.
to be otherwise than a man of moral excellence as well as
intellectual greatness; and from his own unstudied writings
we cannot but be sure fhat he was a most affectionate father,
a warm and faithful friend, and a lover of truth and liberty
for their own sakes—a man of keen, generous, habitual
humanity and tenderness to suffering, and a man profoundly
and pervadingly religious. Not that he is ever a moraliser,
or given to be didactic, or given to public religiosity; his
clear, manly, modest nature would despise this as much as it
did any other quackery or nonsense; but his sense of God—of
our constant relation to him as our Maker and Judge—of the
law of duty—is felt throughout everything he writes, and
at times breaks out into the noblest acknowledgments. We
do not know how to exemplify his characteristic spirit and
manner, better than in the first sentence of his preface to
his first work, or “ Opusculum” as it was called—“ Observa-
tiones Medicce circa Morborum Acutorum Historiam et
CurationemT
“ He who sets himself to the work of curing men would do well
to ponder again and again these four things. 1st, That he must
himself some day render an account to the supreme Judge of the
lives of< the sick committed to his care. 2d, That whatsoever of
art or of science he has by the divine blessing attained to, is to be
directed in the main to the glory of God in the highest, and to the
welfare of the human race; for it were an unworthy thing that
their celestial gifts should be made to serve avarice or ambition.
Moreover, 3d, that he has taken upon himself the charge of no
ignoble or contemptible creature; for that we may estimate the
worth of the human race, the only begotten Son of God became
man, and thus enriched by his own dignity, His nature we assumed.
Finally, that he is himself not exempted from the common lot, but
is subject to the same laws of mortality and is obnoxious and open
to the same calamities and sorrows as are others; so that, being
himself a fellow-sufferer, he may the more diligently, and with a
more tender affection succour those who are sick.”
Here is the key-note of the character and life of this
admirable man. We know of no more impressive assertion
of the dignity, privilege, and peril of being a healer of men,
and we question if there ever was a case in which a man
was more truly as good as his word. The religious nature of
Sydenham comes more formally and explicitly out in a
theological fragment, printed for the first time by Dr
Latham; it is taken from a^ manuscript in the public library
of the university of Cambridge. Of this remarkable frag¬
ment it has been said by one well qualified to judge, “ There
is much in it of the spirit both of Locke and Butler—of
Locke in the spirit of observation and geniality ; of Butler
in the clear utterances as to the supremacy of reason, and the
necessity of living according to our own true nature.”
But we must advert to the more specific qualities of
these practical tracts. Besides their broad, accurate, vivid
delineations of disease — portraits drawn to the life and
by a great master—and their wise, simple, rational rules
for treatment, active and negative, general and specific,—
there are two great principles continually referred to as
supreme in the art of medicine. The first is, that nature
cures diseases; that there is a recuperative and curative
power, the vis medicatrix, in every living organism, implanted
in it by the Almighty, and that it is by careful, reverential
scrutiny of this law of restoration, that all our attempts at cure
are to be guided ; that we are its ministers and interpreters,
and neither more nor less; and the second, that symptoms
are the language of a suffering and disordered and endan¬
gered body, which it is the duty of the physician to listen to,
and as far as he can to explain and satisfy, and that like all
other languages it must be studied. This is what he calls
the Natural History of Diseases. With these two central
convictions, it is amazing how much error, rubbish, and mis¬
chief he exposes and ends. In these respects, the impression
in reading him is a very striking one. Here is a man writing
nearly two hundred years ago, and yet we have the truth as
to hygienic physiology—the duty of living according to the,
894
SYDENHAM.
Sydenham, constitution given us by God, and obeying the laws of
health, watching, following, assisting the efforts of nature,
all which we now believe and glory .in, as a sort of modern
gospel of the body,—taught with the same downrightness,
authority, earnestness, and unencumbered good sense, as in
the pages of Andrew Combe, or Sir John Forbes, or Sir
James Clark. It is difficult for us, living as we do in the
broad light of our day, to understand all that is implied in an
English physician writing and practising in 1680 as Syden¬
ham did; it amounted to a new revelation—to areslauratio
magna of the entire study and art of treating diseases—and
was among the first and the best fruits of the then dawning
philosophy of Lord Bacon. What Locke did for the
science of mind, for the conduct of the understanding, and
for the art of making men reason justly,—what Harvey and
Newton did for the sciences of organic and inorganic
matter,—Sydenham did for the art of healing and of keep¬
ing men whole: he made it in the main observational;
he founded it upon what he himself calls “ downright
matter of fact,” and did this not by unfolding a system of
doctrines or raising up a scaffolding of theory, but by
pointing to a road, by exhibiting a method—and moreover
teaching this by example not less than by precept, walking
in the road, not acting merely as a finger-post, and showing
himself to be throughout a true artsman and master of his
tools. The value he puts upon sheer, steady, honest obser¬
vation, as the one initial act and process of all true science
of nature, is most remarkable; and he gives himself, in his
descriptions of disease in general, and of particular cases,
proofs quite exquisite, of his own powers of persevering,
minute, truthful scrutiny. Like most complete men,
Sydenham was a humorist. The well-known story of his
saying to Sir Richard Blackmore, when he asked him what
books he should study medicine in, “ Read Don Quixote,
Sir,” is a proof of his sense as well as of his fun; he
doubtless meant that medicine, the art of curing diseases,
was not to be learned from books. He has acknowledged
his obligations to John Locke in a well-known passage
quoted by Dugald Stewart:—
u Nosti prceterea,^ writing to Dr Mapletoft, 11 quam huic mecB
methodo suffragantem habeam, qui earn intimius per omnia per-
tpexerat, utrique nostrum conjunctissimum Dominum Johannem
Lock; quo quidem viro, sive ingenio judicioque acri et subacto, sive
etiam antiquis (hoc est optimis) moribus, vix superiorem quenquam
inter cot qui nunc sunt homines repertum iri confido, paucissimos
certe pares.,,
And Locke, in the preface to the immortal Essay, speaks of
Sydenham as “ one of the master builders at this time in
the commonwealth of learning,” in company with “ Boyle,
Huygens, and the incomparable Mr Newton.”
The subjects of his tracts are, as has been said, all prac¬
tical, and comprehend almost the entire round of the art of
medicine; but the best known are those upon acute diseases,
—upon fevers, and the “ constitutions of years,” as in con¬
nection with epidemics,—the smallpox,—the gout,—and
hysteria. In all these the powers of insight and of descrip¬
tion are quite unmatched, making any attempt at improve¬
ment in the natural history of disease hopeless enough.
We conclude with one or two selections from his writ¬
ings, which, to be fully appreciated, must, as has been already
said, be read with some understanding of the times he lived
in ; what a mass of errors and prejudices his art was sunk in ;
how rampant the hypothesis mania was, and how utterly the
practice of his art was overrun with the vilest and silliest
nostrums. We must have this in our mind, or we shall fail in
estimating the full amount of exact, strong, independent
thought, of true courage and uprightness, and of all that
deserves to be called magnanimity and virtue, which was in¬
volved in his thinking, writing, and practising as he did.
“ The improvement of physic, in my opinion, depends, 1st, Upon
collecting as genuine and natural a description or history of dis¬
eases as can be procured; and 2d, Upon laying down a fixed and Sydenham,
complete method of cure.. With regard to the history of diseases,
whoever considers the undertaking deliberately will perceive that
a few such particulars must be attended to: 1st, All diseases should
be described as objects of natural history, with the same exactness
as is done by botanists, for there are many diseases that come under
the same genus and bear the same name, that being specifically
different, require a different treatment. The word carduus or
thistle, is applied to several herbs, and yet a botanist would be in¬
accurate and imperfect who would content himself with a generic
description. Furthermore, when this distribution of distempers
into genera has been attempted, it has been to fit into some hypo¬
thesis, and hence this distribution is made to suit the bent of the
author rather than the real nature of the disorder. How much this
has obstructed the improvement of physic any man may know.
In writing, therefore, such a natural history of diseases, every
merely philosophical hypothesis should be set aside, and the mani¬
fest and natural phenomena, however minute, should be noted with
the utmost exactness. The usefulness of this procedure cannot be
easily overrated, as compared with the subtle inquiries and trifling
notions of modern writers ; for can there be a shorter, or indeed
any other way, of coming at the morbific causes, or of discovering
the curative indications, than by a certain perception of the pecu¬
liar symptoms ? By these steps and helps it was that the father of
physic, the great Hippocrates came to excel; his theory (haip'ia.)
being no more than an exact description or view of Nature. He
found that Nature alone often terminates diseases, and works a cure
with a few simple medicines, and often enough with no medicines
at all. If only one person in every age had accurately described,
and consistently cured, but a single disease, and made known his
secret, physic would not be where it is now; but we have long
since forsook the ancient method of cure, founded upon the know¬
ledge of conjunct causes, insomuch that the art, as at this day prac¬
tised, is rather the art of talking about diseases than of curing
them. I make this digression in order to assert, that the discover¬
ing and assigning of remote causes, which now a-days so much
engrosses the minds and feeds the vanity of curious inquirers, is
an impossible attempt, and that only immediate and conjunct
causes fall within the compass of our knowledge.”
Or as he elsewhere pithily states it:—
“ Cognitio nostra, in rerum cortice, omnis ferme versatur, ac ad ri
on sive quod res hoc modo se habeat, fere tantum assurgit; to hon,
sive rerum causas, nulla tenus attingit."
He was the first to point out what he called the varying
“ constitutions” of different years in relation to their
respective epidemics, and the importance of watching the
type of each new epidemic before settling the means of
cure. In none of his works is his philosophic spirit, and
the subtlety and clearness of his understanding, shown
more signally than in his successive histories of the epi¬
demics of his time. Nothing equal to them has ever
appeared since ; and the full importance of the principles
he was the first to lay down, is only now beginning to be
acknowledged. His confession as to his entirely failing to
discover what made one epidemic so to differ from another,
has been amply confirmed by all succeeding observers.
He says:—
“ I have carefully examined the different constitutions of differ¬
ent years as to the manifest qualities of the air, yet I must own I
have hitherto made no progress, having found that years, perfectly
agreeing as to their temperature and other sensible properties,
have produced very different tribes of diseases, and vice versd.
The matter seems to stand thus : there are certain constitutions of
years that owe their origin neither to heat, cold, dryness, nor
moisture, but upon a certain secret and inexplicable alteration in the
bowels of the earth, whence the air becomes impregnated with such
kinds of as subject the human body to distempers of a cer¬
tain specific type.”
As to the early treatment of a new epidemic, he says:—
“ My chief care, in the midst of so much darkness and ignorance,
is to wait a little, and proceed very slowly, especially in the use of
powerful remedies, in the meantime observing its nature and pro¬
cedure, and by what means the patient was relieved or injured
and he concludes by regretting the imperfection of his
observations, and hoping that they will assist in beginning
a work that, in his judgment, may greatly tend to the
advantage of mankind. Had his successors followed in his
track with equal sagacity, honesty, and circumspection, ouf
S Y D
Sjrdenham. knowledge of tliese destructive and mysterious incursions
of disease, would, in all likelihood, have been greatly larger
and more practical than it is now.
Sydenham is well known to have effected a revolution in
the management of the smallpox, and to have introduced
a method of treatment upon which no material improve¬
ment has since been made. We owe the cool regimen to
him. Speaking of the propriety of attending to the
w ishes of the sufferer, he says, with equal humanity and
good sense:—
“ A person in a burning fever desires to drink freely of some
small liquor ; but the rules of art, built upon some hypothesis,
having a different design in view, thwart the desire, and instead
. thereof, order a cordial. In the meantime, the patient, not being
suffered to drink what he wishes, nauseates all kinds of food, but
art commands him to eat. Another, after a long illness, begs hard,
it may be, for something odd, or questionable; here, again, im¬
pertinent art thwarts him and threatens him with death. How
much more excellent the aphorism of Hippocrates—‘ Such food as
is most grateful, though not so wholesome, is to be preferred to
that which is better, but distasteful.’ Nor will this appear strange,
if it be considered that the all-wise Creator has formed the whole
with such exquisite order, that, as all the evils of nature eminently
conspire to complete the harmony of the whole work, so every
being is endowed with a Divine direction or instinct, which is
interwoven with its proper essence, and hence the safety of man¬
kind was provided for, who, notwithstanding all our doctoring,
had been otherwise in a sad enough plight.”
Again:—
“ He would be no honest and successful pilot who were to apply
himself with less industry to avoid rocks and sands, and bring his
vessel safely home, than to search into the causes of the ebbing and
flowing of the sea, which though very well for a philosopher, is
f oreign to him whose business it is to secure the ship. So neither
will a physician, whose province it is to cure diseases, be able to
do so, though he be a person of great genius, who bestows less time
on the hidden and intricate method of nature, and adapting his
means thereto, than on curious and subtle speculations.”
The following is frank enough :—
“ Indeed, if I may speak my mind freely, I have been long of
opinion that I act the part of an honest man and a good physician
as often as I refrain entirely from medicines, when, upon visiting
the patient, I find him no worse to-day than he was yesterday;
whereas, if I attempt to cure the patient by a method of which I
am uncertain, he will be endangered both by the experiment I am
going to make on him and by the disease itself; nor will he so easily
escape two dangers as one.
“ That practice, and that alone, will bring relief to the sufferer,
which elicits the curative indications from the phenomena of the
diseases themselves, and confirms them by experience, by which
means the great Hippocrates made himself immortal. And had
the art of medicine been delivered by any one in this wise, though
the cure of a disease or two might come to be known to the com¬
mon people, yet the art in its full extent would then have required
men more prudent and skilful than it does now, nor would it lose
any of its credit; for as there is in the operations of nature (on the
observations of which a true medical praxis is founded) more of
nicety and subtlety than can be found in any art supported on the
most specious hypotheses, so the science of Medicine which Nature
teaches will exceed an ordinary capacity in a much greater degree
than that which mere philosophy teaches.”
There is much profound truth in this. Observation, in
its strict sense, is not every man’s gift, and but few men’s
actual habit of mind. Newton used to say, that if in any one
way he differed from other men, it was in his power of con¬
tinued attention—of faithful, unbroken observation ; his
ladder had all its steps entire, and he went up with a com¬
posed, orderly foot. It requires more strength and fineness
of mind, more of what deserves to be called genius, to make
a series of trustworthy observations in Medicine, or any other
art, than to spin any amount of nice hypotheses, or build
any number of “ castella in aere” as Sydenham calls them.
It would not be easy to over-estimate the permanent
impression for good, which the writings, the character, and
the practice of Sydenham have made on the art of healing in
England, and on the continent generally. In the writings
of Boerhaave, Stahl, Gaubius, Pinel, Bordeu, Haller, and
S Y D 895
many others, he is spoken of as the father of rational me- Sydenham
dicine; as the first man who applied to his profession the II
Baconian principle of interpreting and serving nature, and sydney-
who never forgot the master’s rule, “ Non jingendum aut
excogitandurn, sed inveniendum, quid natura aut facial aut
ferat.” He was what Plato would have called an “ arts-
man,” as distinguished from a teacher of abstract science.
But he was by no means deficient either in the capacity or
the relish for speculative truth. Like all men of a large
sagacious nature, he could not have been what he was, or
done what he did, without possessing and often exercising
the true philosophizing faculty. He was a man of the same
quality of mind in this respect with Watt, Franklin, and
John Hunter, in whom speculation was not the less genuine
that it was with them a means rather than an end. (j. b—N.)
Sydenham, Floyer, a translator of Plato, was born in
1710, and graduated in arts at Wadham College, Oxford,
in 1734. Between 1759 and 1780 he published transla¬
tions of the lo, Greater and Lesser Hippias, Banquet,
Rivals, Meno, First and Second Alcibiades and Philebus,
in 3 vols. 4to. This translation was on the whole a very
creditable one; in the more abstruse parts of Plato, the
translator often missed the sense, but in the less abstract
portions the version is excellent. It was completed in
1804 by Thomas Taylor. The subscribers to a work like
this were few, and the learned and laborious, the “ candid
and gentle” author died in his old age in prison, where he
had been incarcerated for a debt contracted for the barest
necessaries of life with an eating-house which he fre¬
quented. He died April 1st 1787. His other works were
—A Dissertation on the Doctrine of Heraclitus, so far as
it is mentioned or alluded to by Plato, 1775 ; Onomasticon
Theologicum, 1784. Out of the facts connected with this
melancholy end of Sydenham, the literary fund is said to
have taken its rise.
SYDNEY, the capital city of the colony of New South
Wales, situated on the southern side of the harbour of Port
Jackson, about 7 miles from the entrance to the port; S.
Lat. 33. 52., E. Long. 151.12. It was founded on the
26th January 1788, and named from Viscount Sydney, at
that time secretary for the colonies.
Sydney is distinguished as the earliest of the Australian
settlements, and was commenced as a convict establish¬
ment under the transportation system of the Imperial
Government. The resource at command for that system
in North America having been gradually cut off, first by
a growing preference with the colonists for negro labour,
and at last by the separation of the United States, the
British authorities turned attention elsewhere, and the re¬
ports of Captain Cook directed them to New South Wales.
“ The first fleet,” as it has been called, consisting of 11
vessels, left for the antipodes on 13th May 1787, and
arrived at Botany Bay, the intended destination, on the
18th January. But this place proving quite unsuitable, the
whole expedition was promptly removed to Port Jackson,
a few miles to the northward. This port, one of the finest
harbours in the world, was previously thought to be only a
boat harbour, and was called after one of Cook’s seamen,
who had first discovered it. The party, consisting of 1030
persons, including 565 male and 192 female convicts, with
200 soldiers, and some women and children, was landed at
Sydney Cove, one of the many beautiful inlets of the har¬
bour, and there they founded the present city of Sydnev,
with Captain Arthur Phillip, R.N., at their head, as the
first governor of the new penal colony.
For a time at first the town was irregularly constructed,
and comprised very picturesque and humble edifices, some
of which have lingered into present times. The present
plan was laid out in 1809. The city is surrounded on three
sides by water; to the north, the main harbour called the
Stream; to the east, Woolloomoloo Bay; and to the west,
896 S Y D
Sydney. Darling Harbour. It is built partly on bigb ground, and
partly along a hollow, traversed by the principal thorough¬
fare, George Street. The basis is sandstone, which affords
a valuable^building material, that is plentifully made use
of both in building and paving the town. The soil is light
and sterile—a characteristic feature that prevails far beyond
the limits of Sydney. On the other hand, the water or har¬
bour scenerv is most diversified and beautiful, with numerous
inlets, and rocky promontories covered with the natural ever¬
green vegetation, and thickly interspersed with houses and
wardens belonging to the expanding suburbs of the capital.
^ The harbour is quite landlocked; and large ships may
approach close to or even touch the rocky shores on which
the town is built. These natural advantages, have given
undisputed pre-eminence to Sydney as the great commercial
emporium of the colony; and nature has been powerfully
seconded by the system of extensive wharf accommodation
along Sydney Cove and Darling Harbour. A dry dock,
capable of accommodating the largest merchantman, has also
been constructed at Waterview Bay, one mile distant from
Sydney; and there are, besides, two patent slips at Darling
Harbour, the larger of which can take up vessels of from 1500
to 2000 tons. The town and shipping are protected by five
forts or batteries on various commanding situations, includ¬
ing the principal ones of Fort Maquarri, Daw es’ Battery,’and
the more recent and imposing erections at Kiribilli Point
on the north shore, and Fort Denison on what was originally
called Pinchgut Island. There is a large and admirably
constructed dry-dock in private hands, on Water View Bay,
and another constructed by the government on Cockatoo
Island, capable of accommodating the largest class of ocean
steamers. There is also a very fine patent slip at Balmain
in the hands of a company. The customs-tariff is in gene¬
ral liberally framed, and upon principles of free trade. The
duties are levied upon a few principal articles of import,
chiefly spirits, wines, and tobacco. The duty on the latter,
however, operates protectively upon an inferior colonial
production. There is an export duty on gold of 2s. 6d.
per oz., as in the adjacent colony of Victoria, the govern¬
ments of both places having found difficulty in securing
by other means a payment for the use of the auriferous
soil. The scale of commerce and shipping is large, and
has been greatly augmented since the gold discoveries
in 1851. The colonial imports in 1850 were L.1,333,413;
the exports, L.1,357,784. In 1858 they were—imports,
L.6,058,366; exports, L.4,186,277. The apparent discre¬
pancy in the exports arises from the large transit of live
stock across the border to Victoria, no account of which
can be taken. These figures are for the whole colony of
New South Wales, including the Moreton Bay District,
which has just been created a separate colony ; but
nearly the entire of this large commerce is connected
with the central harbour of Sydney. The chief articles
of export are wTool and gold, the latter in annual value
above L. 1,000,000, having considerably increased since
1858, and the former about one-third to one-fourth more.
The shipping inwards for 1858 was 348,984 tons, and out¬
wards 366,825 tons. The colonial revenue for 1858 was
L.1,456,451, exclusive of loans for railways, &c., and for
1859 it w'as L. 1,540,550. The public debt on 31st De¬
cember 1858 was L.2,797,090. The great railway schemes
which are being carried out by the colonial government,
will soon much increase this amount. Three great railway
lines have been projected from Sydney, to the north, to
the west, and to the south-west. These have all been com¬
menced, and of the last, proceeding via Paramatta towards
Goulburn, and intended eventually to reach the Victoria
frontier, 34 miles are already finished and in operation.
There is telegraphic communication throughout great part
of the colony, and particularly to the south-west, where, at
Albury on the frontier, 360 miles from Sydney, the tele-
N E Y.
graph lines trom Victoria are united, and thus connect Sydney,
Sydney with that colony, and with South Australia and v,- ^ — J
Tasmania. Already the grand project of telegraphic con¬
nection with Europe has been seriously entertained at Syd¬
ney, and seems likely to be soon carried out, now that there
is almost a continuous line from England via Kurachee
and Ceylon to the eastern part of Java.
The population of Sydney by the last census in 1856
was 53,118, consisting of 26,220 males, and 26,898 females,
while that of the entire colony was, on the same occasion,
268,737. Ten years previously that of the city was 37,203.
In 1858, the population of the two electoral districts in which
Sydney is divided, was estimated at 53,358, exclusive of the
populous and now connected suburbs. Sydney and these
numerous offshoots of Paddington, the Glebe, Newtown, St
Leonards, &c., may now contain about 75,000 souls. So
considerable a place, with a proportionably large export
and import commerce, presents a very active scene of life
and business. Omnibuses constantly traverse town and
suburbs, and many vehicles are despatched from Sydney in
all interior directions for the passenger and postal service,
while the towns on the sea-coast are connected by steam
communication, extending south to Melbourne and Hobart-
Town, and north to Moreton Bay, and the newly discovered
gold region behind Port Curtis and Rockhampton. The oft
interrupted steam postal communication with Britain seems
at length permanently settled. The present line is via Suez
and Melbourne, occupying about 50 days to Sydney, when
the short and fast route through France is availed of. This
postal service has hitherto been monthly, but it is expected
presently to be fortnightly, by arrangement with the contract¬
ing steam company (the Peninsular and Oriental), and it is
partly with this object in view, partly to avail of the recent
telegraphic extensions to Ceylon, that an alteration has
just been effected (March 1860), by which Galle has been
made the place of call instead of Mauritius. Sydney, how¬
ever, as standing at the extreme of this postal line, the last
place of arrival and the first of departure, and exposed to
frequent disappointment in receipt of mails, has of late been
dissatisfied with this route, and in conjunction with the
New Zealand settlements, which are still more unfavour¬
ably situated, has been endeavouring to establish a second
and alternate line via Panama.
In 1843, Sydney, in common with Melbourne and some
other Australian towns, was formed into a municipality under
a mayor and corporation. The proceedings of this body
having rendered it unpopular, it was abolished some years
ago ; but the institution has since been restored, and has
made itself useful in effecting improvements in sanitary and
other departments. The corporation revenues for 1858
amounted to L.55,451, including a government grant of
L. 10,000, but exclusive of loans; the expenditure was
L.66,862. In religious affairs, Sydney is the residence of an
Anglican bishop, and a Homan Catholic archbishop. 1 he
Australian museum, commenced in 1838 and incorporated in
1853, comprises a good illustration of Australian natural his¬
tory. The University was founded in 1850, and the same
year established by act of council. Its degrees now take rank
with those of similar institutions in Britain. In 1858 there
were 33 matriculated students. The city has long been light¬
ed with gas. It is now well supplied with water, and a great
system of drainage is in progress. The main thoroughfares
of Pitt Street and George Street have a carriage-way of
60 feet in breadth ; and there are now many handsome
shops, churches, and public and private edifices. There are
8 banks, most of which have large capitals, and many branch
establishments ; and the town is varied on its outskirts by
several parks, by a botanic garden, and by the domain
surrounding a handsome and spacious Government House.
Shortly after the gold discoveries, the establishment
in Sydney of a branch of the royal mint was petitioned
S Y D
Sydney, for, and with success. This institution came into opera-
tion in May 1855. The coinage is limited to gold, the
sovereigns and half-sovereigns to be of equal weight and
purity to those of imperial coinage. There has not yet,
however, been conceded to it the privilege of an imperial
coinage—a circumstance that materially diminishes the ad¬
vantage of the local mint, and is of constant inconvenience
in the commercial relations between Australia and Britain.
Meanwhile the adjacent colonies have accepted the coin as
legal tender, although not without demur and delay, par¬
ticularly in the case of Victoria, which objected alike to
the invidious non-imperial distinction, and to the fact of the
mint having been hastily placed at Sydney, while nearly
all the gold was at Melbourne. For a time at first, there¬
fore, the Sydney mint threatened to prove a serious loss to
the colony. The works cost L.50,000, and the annual
maintenance L.12,000, while the income fell short of the
latter sum. There is now, however, an excess of income,
but the colony is prohibited by ! imperial regulation from
making the institution a source of profit. The area of the
legal tender has been extended to several colonies, Mau¬
ritius, Ceylon, and Hong-Kong, which are still imperially
administered. Those colonies having free governments to
decide in the matter for themselves. The business of the
Sydney mint is again threatened by a recent demand of the
legislature at Melbourne for a mint there also; and if, as
seems reasonable, the imperial privilege will soon be con¬
ceded to Australian coin (the branch mint operations being
all under imperial appointees, and subjected to regular im¬
perial test), there is a yet further diminution in extent of
operations in prospect, because great part of the business
hitherto can be regarded as merely the substituting of colo¬
nial for imperial coin, in consequence of the latter having
more value outside Australia than the former, and being in
consequence always preferably taken for export.
I he 26th of January is now a distinguished anniversary,
which has of late been somewhat regularly celebrated, and
with due eclat, in London, where, from the facilities of in¬
tercommunication and affection for the parent country, very
many colonists can now always be mustered. Tt is, how¬
ever, no longer the celebration of a penal settlement, but
of a flourishing colony, which has long been entirely self-
supporting, and is now possessed of a free constitutional
government. The battle of the transition from “ convict-
ism ” is not altogether a pleasing retrospect. The cessa¬
tion of transportation to New South Wales, and the removal
of the stigma of its being a penal settlement, were but
reluctantly conceded by the imperial and colonial authori¬
ties, and even by an influential party of colonists under the
past regime, who, as employers of labour, found more profit
and less annoyance from the assigned convict than from the
free immigrants. The league against the transportation
system, inaugurated in 1851 at Melbourne, and established
also at Sydney, was eventually victorious, and but for the
partial revival of the system at Western Australia, these
colonies might now have been entirely freed, at all events,
from any further criminal admixture, and have been in a
fair and rapid way for recovering from the social damage
already sustained. As it is, however, the progress has been
very marked in the relative diminution of crime, and, to the
residents themselves, it is even more evident in the general
social aspect. A prosperous colony of the British people,
in a temperate latitude, should be a scene comparatively
destitute of heinous crime. These colonies, with the widely
spread and lingering elements of their original character,
cannot assume this position; but the following compara¬
tive return of the convictions at the Supreme Court of
Sydney gives a good assurance of progressive improvement,
even allowing for the effects of irregularity and extrava¬
gance that characterized the earlier years of the gold dis¬
covery, 1851 to 1853. In 1853, the convictions were 604 j
VOL. xx.
S Y L
897
in 1854, 637; in 1855, 526; in 1856, 461; in 1857, 395; Syene
in 1858, 415. ||
Sydney is the seat of the Governor-General of the Aus- Sylvester,
tralian settlements. The supremacy, however, which the
Governor of New South Wales legally enjoys with refer¬
ence to the other colonies has long been, in consonance
with understanding, a dead letter, and exists only for
certain possible emergencies. The colonial legislature
assembles in a handsome edifice of the capital, and consists
of a council, at present of crown nomination, and consisting
of forty members, besides the president, and an assembly of
seventy-six members, including the speaker, elected by the
colonists. The former body, the Upper Chamber, or
House of Lords, as it were, will, with the view of giving it
more independence, probably soon be made elective as
well as the other, in obedience to prevailing public opinion,
and in harmony with example in the other colonies. The
political tendencies, and the religious as well, since self-
government has permitted their free devolpment, are all
towards a democratic equality; universal suffrage, the ballot,
no property qualification, are principles either already adopted
or on the eve of being so. The good wages and independ¬
ent position of all classes, and the absence of local tradi¬
tional inequalities, render these results natural, suitable,
apparently, and probably irresistible. It is pleasant to add,
that neither this conceded freedom of political action, nor
the tendency to this extreme democratic departure from
the home model, have affected the loyal sentiments of the
colony. The new constitution was proclaimed in Novem¬
ber 1855 ; but the colony ever since, although actively con¬
tentious enough as regards its own political parties, has dis¬
played only an increased deference and loyalty to the parent
government, the natural result, indeed, of its having se¬
cured at length that free political condition which it had
long desired and contended for.
SYENE, now Aswan. See Egypt.
SYLBURG, or Sylburgius, Friedrich, a very dis¬
tinguished Greek scholar of the sixteenth century, was
born at Wetter near Marburg, in 1536, and hence the
frequent addition to his name of Yeterensis. He received
his education at the University of Jena, where he studied
Greek with great ardour, under the renowned Rhodoman-
nus. After leaving college he spent some years in teach¬
ing, but disliking the profession he exchanged the ferula
for the pen. Sylburg formed a connection with Wechel
the printer, in Frankfort-on-the-Main, for whom he en¬
gaged to edit works in the Greek language. In 1591 he
exchanged his position for one in Heidelberg with the
printer Jerome Commelin. In both these situations
Sylburg, by his profound knowledge, his great diligence,
and his extraordinary industry, became one of the most
illustrious names of his century. His society was courted
by such great men as Casaubon and De Thou, and he
gained from the Landgrave of Hesse an annual pension
from the funds of the University of Marburg. Sylburg
died at Heidelberg on the 16th of February 1596. He
has left a reputation behind him hardly inferior to that of
the illustrious family of Stephens. His life and labours
will be found recorded in the Vita Frederici Sylburgii of
J. G. Jung, Berleburg, 1745.
SYLLOGISM. See Logic.
SYLVESTER, Joshua, an English poet of some cele¬
brity in his day, was born in 1563. He was a species of
merchant, or “ merchant adventurer” as he styles himself,
and being of a roving disposition kept very generally poor.
He was engaged chiefly in translating works from the
French, and he rendered Du Bartas’ poem of the Divine
Weeks and Works into sweet, fantastical, and rather insipid
verse in 1605, which had a great run. This poetical Puri¬
tan addressed a lively piece, with an edifying title, on the
iniquities of tobacco, to King James YI. in 1615. The
5 x
898
S Y L
Symma- title of the book ran thus : Tobacco battered, and the
chus shattered {about their ears that idly idolize so base and
II barbarous a weed, or at leastwise over-love so loathsome a
Symphony ^ , a yoUey of Holy Shot thundered from Mount
Helicon. Sylvester seems to have had considerable powers
of versification, but was destitute both of taste and jucg-
ment. After firing this “ holy shot from his exalted posi¬
tion, he seems to have betaken himseh to a less e evated
rep-ion for he died at Middleburg in Holland, in 1618.
SYMMACHUS, Quintus Aurelius, a Latin writer of
high reputation during his own time, was born at Rome,
beino- the son of Lucius Avianus Symmachus, who became
prefect of the city in the year 364 a.d. The son was care¬
fully initiated in the learning of the age, and soon distin¬
guished himself by his talents and eloquence. He became
pro-consul of Africa in 370, and prefect of the city in 384.
He likewise appears to have filled the office of pontifex.
While he held that of prefect, he addressed to Valentinian
II. Theodosius, and Arcadius, an elaborate epistle, urging
the restoration of the pagan rites and observances. This
application produced no effect, but his zeal for the ancient
superstition was still unabated; and in 388 or 389, when
congratulating Theodosius, he again, in the name of the
senate, entreated him to restore the altar of Victory to the
senate-house. But the Emperor, who had a more personal
reason for being dissatisfied with his conduct, on account
of his favourable sentiments towards the usurper Maximus,
sent him into exile at a great distance from Rome. His
disgrace does not however appear to have been lasting; for
he was nominated consul in the year 391. He survived
Theodosius, and was employed by his sons Arcadius and
Honorius. . ,
Symmachus is chiefly known to posterity as the authoi
of ten books of Epistles, which reflect some light on the
history of that era. He seems to have chosen Pliny as his
model; but he belongs to a very inferior age of Latinity,
and has a due share of the quaintness and affectation by
which it is generally characterized. His relatio in favoui
of paganism (lib. x. epist. Ixi.) produced a refutation from
Ambrose, bishop of Milan, who on that subject addressed
two epistles to Valentinian. He was likewise assailed by
Prudentius, who composed a poem in two books, Contra
Symmachum Prcefectum JJrbis.
The Epistolce of Symmachus are said to have been
printed before the close of the fifteenth centuiy, and other
very early editions are mentioned. Only 317 Epistles
appear in the edition printed by J. Schott, Argejit., 1510,
4to. The subsequent impressions include 965, divided
into 10 books. The next edition was printed by Froben,
Basil, 1549, 8vo. An edition, illustrated with notes, was
afterwards prepared by Juretus, Paris, 1580, 1604, 4to.
To the annotations of this editor, Lectius added his own,
Genev., 1587, 1599, 8vo. The text of Lectius is prefer¬
able to that of Juretus. Another edition, accompanied
with notes, was published by Scioppius, Mogunt., 1608,
4to. These notes he was accused of having pilfered from
the papers of Giphanius.1 The next editions of Symmachus
were those of Pareus, Neapoli Nemetum, 1617, 16-8,
Francof., 1642, 8vo. He added a Lexicon Srymmachianum
and Electa Symmachiana. We have only to mention
another edition, Lugd. Bat., 1653, 12mo. Of the orations
of Symmachus some fragments were discovered in the
Ambrosian Library at Milan by the indefatigable Angelo
Mai, and by him have been communicated to the public,
Mediolani, 1815, 8vo.
SYMONDS. See Ship-Building.
SYMPHONY (Ital. Sinfonia). Anciently this word
had various musical meanings. It now usually signifies a
piece of instrumental music for an orchestra, consisting of
Syra.
SYR
several movements, and generally performed in a concert- Synmresis
room. The overture differs from the symphony chiefly in 11
the smaller number of its movements, seldom containing
more than a short, slow, introductory movement, and an
allegro, and being used at the beginning of an opera or a
ballet. The word symphony is also used to signify an
instrumental passage which usually introduces a piece of
vocal music, or is brought in at its close, or occurs during
some pause of the voice. Hadyn, IMozart, and Beethoven
have produced the finest models of the orchestral symphony
in point of originality, beauty, ingenious construction, and
skilful instrumentation. For clearness of design and breadth
of effect, Haydn’s symphonies still remain unrivalled.
SYN7ERESIS (o-waipecm, a drawing together), is a
figure by which two syllables are united in one, as vemens
for vehemens.
SY'NAGOGUE, a Jewish place of worship. Authors
are not agreed about the time when the Jews first began
to have synagogues. Some suppose them as old as the
ceremonial law, and others fix their beginning to the times
after the Babylonish captivity. Jerusalem is said to have
contained 480 synagogues. The chief things belonging to
a synagogue were—1, the ark or chest, made after the
model of the ark of the covenant, containing the Pentateuch;
2, the pulpit and desk in the middle of the synagogue, in
which he that was to read or expound the law stood ; 3,
the seats or pews for the people ; 4, the lamps to give light
at evening service, and the feast of dedication ; 5, rooms
or apartments for the utensils and alms-chest. The syna¬
gogue was governed by a council or assembly, over whom
was a president, called the Ruler of the Synagogue. 1 hese
are sometimes called Chiefs of the Jews, the Rulers, the
Priests or Elders, the Governors, the Overseers, the Fathers
of the Synagogue. Service was performed three times a
day, namely, in the morning, in the afternoon, and at night.
At the time of morning sacrifice, evening sacrifice, and
after the evening sacrifice on Monday, Thursday, and
Saturday, there was a more forcible obligation upon the
people to attend than upon the other days.
SYNALCEPHA (crwaAou^, a melting together), is a
contraction of syllables, performed principally by suppres¬
sing some vowel or diphthong at the end of a word, on^
account of another vowel or diphthong at the beginning of
the next. As, UV ego, for Me ego, &c.
Conticuer’ omnes intentiqu’ ora tenebant.—Virgil.
SYNTAX, the proper construction of the words of a
language into sentences and phrases. (See Grammar.)
S YNTHESIS (oW%u, I put together), is a species of
reasoning, opposed to analysis, which is the logical or for¬
mally deductive method, in which the reasoner, from certain
assumed data, concludes either formally or materially a pro¬
position of higher generality than any of those with which
he set out. It is frequently called the method of com¬
position or combination, in contrast to analysis, which is
called the method of resolution^ (See Logic.)
SYRA (anc. Syros), an island of the Grecian Archipe¬
lago, belonging to Greece, and one of the Cyclades, eleven
miles S. of Andro; about N. Lat. 37. 29.; E. Lon. 24.
55. It is about ten miles in length by seven in breadth,
and irregular in its outline, with steep and rugged coasts.
The interior is hilly and is chiefly composed of mica slate,
and there is abundance of iron and an inferior kind of
marble. The soil is in general not very fertile, and there
is a deficiency of water; but the island produces wh^at,
barley, cotton, wine, figs, and silk. Pop. 42,000. A- ^
capital is Hermopolis, also called New Syros, at the head
of a bay on the east coast, near the site of the ancient city,
all traces of which have disappeared. It is the residence
of Russian, French, Austrian, and other consul; and con-
1 Fdbricii Bibliotheca Latina, tom. iii., p. 208, edit. Ernesti.
SYR SYR 899
Syracuse, tains a handsome new church, a gymnasium, quarantine
establishment, &c. Shipbuilding is actively carried on ;
and there is an extensive trade. About 1500 vessels an¬
nually enter and clear from the harbour. This port is the
centre of the steam navigation of the Archipelago. Pop.
14,000.
SYRACUSE (anc. Syracusce), a Greek city in Sicily,
memorable in ancient history. It was, with the exception
of Naxos, the earliest of all the Greek colonies in the
island, having been founded by a band of Corinthians under
Archias, in the year 734 b.c. The original settlers estab¬
lished themselves on the small island of Ortygia, at the
mouth of the capacious bay which afterwards formed the
great harbour of Syracuse ; and for a long time the city
did not extend beyond its narrow limits. The name was
most probably derived from the neighbouring marsh or lake
of Syraco. The new city rose steadily if not rapidly in
power and prosperity; and founded several colonies of its
own, among which were Acrae, Casmenae, and Camarina.
But we know little of its history previous to the fifth cen¬
tury, b.c. In the beginning of that century the government
was oligarchical, in the hands of a class called the Gamori,
probably the descendants of the original settlers. Mean¬
while a democratic party by degrees grew up, who, in 486,
effected a revolution, and expelled the Gamori from the
city. The latter, however, applied for aid to Gelon, tyrant
of Gela, who immediately put himself at their head and
took possession of Syracuse. Perceiving the superior ad¬
vantages of this city over Gela, he resolved to make it his
capital; and in order to increase its size and importance,
he demolished the neighbouring city of Camarina, and
transplanted the inhabitants to Syracuse. Soon afterwards,
entering into a war with the Megareans, he defeated them,
took and razed their city, and in like manner transplanted
the people. Syracuse thus became powerful, and full of
inhabitants; and the friendship of Gelon was courted by
Athens and Lacedaemon at the time of the Persian inva¬
sion. But in the meantime the Carthaginians had entered
into a treaty with the Persians ; by which it was agreed,
that the former should attack the Greeks in Sicily and Italy,
in order to divert them from assisting their countrymen at
home. Sicily was accordingly invaded by the Carthaginians
with a vast army; but they were utterly overthrown by
Gelon, as is related under the article Carthage. After
this victory, the people out of gratitude obliged him to
assume the title of king, which till that time he had refused.
Gelon died in the year 478 b.c., and was succeeded by
his brother Hiero, whose character is differently drawn by
different historians. He is highly celebrated in the odes of
Pindar; and it is certain that his court was the resort
of men of letters, whom he treated in the most courteous
manner and with the greatest liberality. In 467 B.C.
Hiero was succeeded by Thrasybulus; who proving a ty¬
rant, was in ten months dethroned, and a popular govern¬
ment restored, which continued for the space of about sixty
years.
After the establishment of free government, Syracuse,
along with the other Greek cities in Sicily, made rapid
progress in wealth and power ; and it was probably about
this time that it reached its highest pitch of prosperity.
But during this period also it incurred the greatest danger
it had yet experienced, in a contest with Athens at the
very height of her power. The memorable siege of Syra¬
cuse, which in the end proved fatal to Athens, began in the
spring of 414 b.c. The Athenians under Nicias landed
to the north of the town, and established their naval station
at a place called Thapsus. The city had by this time far
extended beyond its original limits ; the plateau of Achra-
dina to the north of the harbour was densely peopled, but
was commanded by the heights of Epipolae to the west.
The latter were at once seized by the besiegers as an im¬
portant position, and secured by the erection of a fort on a Syracuse,
hill called Labdalum. They then proceeded to construct
a line of trenches across the plateau in order to shut in the
city; and the rapid progress of this work so alarmed the
Syracusans, that they made several attempts to stop it by
counterworks. These were, however, all destroyed by the
Athenians ; and their fleet having sailed into the great har¬
bour, they were able to carry the circumvallation down to
the shore, leaving only a small part of it towards the north
of the plateau in an unfinished state. Hitherto the Athen¬
ians had been successful in all their operations, and in all
the contests that had taken place in the course of them;
but the arrival of Gylippus from Sparta with reinforcements
for the Syracusans turned the tide of affairs. He forced
his way through the Athenian lines where they were incom¬
plete, and entered the city. Then, directing all his efforts
to prevent the completion of the circumvallation, he first
surprised the Athenian fort of Labdalum, and afterwards
proceeded to intersect their lines by a cross wall running
out from that of the city. This he succeeded in carrying out
quite beyond the line of circumvallation, so as to render it
impossible to enclose the city. Nicias, after an unsuccessful
attempt to capture this outwork, wrote to Athens for assist¬
ance, and meanwhile strengthened his position on the
harbour by fortifying the headland of Plemmyrium which
commanded its entrance. But the Syracusans, making a
simultaneous attack by sea and land, captured this fort, and
subsequently defeated the Athenian ships in the harbour.
A strong fleet arriving from Athens under Demosthenes and
Eurymedon revived for a time the hopes of the besiegers.
They attacked once more the Syracusan outworks on the
heights, but were repulsed with great loss. It was now
evident that all hope of capturing the city was gone; and
the Athenians would have been wise had they immediately
raised the siege. But the counsel of Nicias for delay pre¬
vailed against that of Demosthenes, and they speedily found
their position changed from that of besiegers to being them¬
selves besieged. Their fleet was blockaded in the harbour,
and finally destroyed; and the army attempting to retreat
by land, after suffering great losses, was forced to lay down
their arms. This siege was scarcely ended when a new
and formidable invasion by the Carthaginians took place;
but the event of that expedition was as unfortunate to
its authors as the former had been. (See Carthage.)
In the meantime, a considerable revolution had happened
in Syracuse. Dionysius, a man of great valour and address,
by various insidious stratagems, succeeded in gaining un¬
limited power, and assumed the title of king of Syracuse in
the year 404 b.c. The Syracusans did not tamely submit
to their new master; but Dionysius managed matters so
well, that their frequent revolts answered no other purpose
than more certainly to entail slavery on themselves ; and
he was allowed to possess the throne without much opposi¬
tion till his death, which happened in the year 367 B.C.
The wars which this monarch carried on with the Cartha¬
ginians, and their unsuccessful attack on Syracuse in 397
b.c., are narrated in the article Carthage.
On the death of Dionysius, he was succeeded by his son,
likewise called Dionysius. He no sooner ascended the
throne, than Dion, his uncle, succeeded in gaining an as¬
cendency over his mind by the help of the philosopher
Plato, under whose care he placed the young king. But
the courtiers, dreading the effects of the philosopher’s in¬
structions, prevailed on the king to banish Dion, and to
keep Plato himself in a kind of imprisonment in the citadel.
At last, however, he set him at liberty; and Plato then
returned to his own countuy.
In 356 b.c., Dion resolved at once to avenge himself on
the tyrant for the wrongs he had suffered at his hands, and
to deliver his country from the oppression under which it
groaned. He raised a body of troops, landed in Sicily, and
900 SYR A
Syracuse, taking advantage of the tyrant’s absence, proceeded to
Syracuse. On his march he prevailed on the inhabitants
of Agrigentum, Gela, Camarina, and other cities, to join
him. As soon as he entered the territories of Syracuse,
multitudes flocked to him; and as nobody appeared to op¬
pose him, he boldly entered the capital, where he soon found
himself at the head of 50,000 men. Dionysius returning
to the city, after some attempts at resistance, betook him¬
self to flio-ht. But in 350 b.c. he again made himself
master of’Syracuse ; and being exasperated by^ his past
misfortunes, became more tyrannical than ever. The Syra¬
cusans first had recourse to Icetas, tyrant of Leontini; but
as the Carthaginians in alliance with this monarch took
this opportunity to assail them with a powerful fleet and
army, they were obliged to apply to the Corinthians. By
them Timoleon, a celebrated commander, was sent to the
assistance of the Syracusans, whom he found in a very dis¬
tressed situation ; Icetas being master of the city, the Car¬
thaginians of the harbour, and Dionysius of the citadel.
As all parties were equally the enemies of Dionysius, he
found it impossible to resist, and therefore surrendered him¬
self to Timoleon in 343 B.c.
After the departure of the tyrant, Timoleon succeeded
in expelling both Icetas and the Carthaginians from Syra¬
cuse, and obtaining possession of the whole city. By sound
of trumpet, he invited the inhabitants to come and assist in
demolishing the citadel and other castles, which he called
the nests of tyrants ; after which he caused edifices for the
administration of justice to be erected in the place where
the citadel had stood. He found the city in a most miser¬
able condition ; for many having perished in the wars and
seditions, and others having fled to avoid the oppression of
tyrants, Syracuse, once so wealthy and populous, was now
become almost a desert. Timoleon supplied the city with
inhabitants from Corinth and other cities of Greece, and
at the same time great multitudes from Italy and the other
parts of Sicily resorted thither.
For twenty years the Syracusans enjoyed the fruits of
Timoleon’s victories; but new disturbances arising, in a
short time another tyrant started up, who exceeded all that
had gone before him in cruelty and other vices.. This was
the celebrated Agathocles, of whose exploits against the
Carthaginians a full account is given under the article Car¬
thage. He was poisoned by one Moenon in the year 289
b.c., after having reigned twenty-eight and lived ninety-five
years. A succession of tyrants followed, till at last the
city being held by two rivals, Toenion and Sosistratus, who
made war within the very walls, Pyrrhus king of Epirus,
was invited into Sicily, in order to put an end to these dis¬
tractions, and to deliver the island from the Carthaginians.
He willingly complied with the invitation, and was every¬
where received with loud acclamations, as the deliverer, not
only of Syracuse, but of all Sicily. As he had a fine army
of 30,000 foot and 5000 horse, with a fleet of 200 sail, he
drove the Cathaginians from place to place, till he left them
only the two strong posts of Eryx and Lilybceum. So
sanguine were his anticipations, that he caused his son to
assume the title of king of Sicily; but in the mean time,
having displeased the Sicilians by his arbitrary behaviour,
they deserted from him in such numbers that he was glad
to set out for Italy in 275 B.C. After his departure, Hiero,
a descendant of Gelon, the first king of Syracuse, first as
general and afterwards as king, succeeded, during a long
period of peace, in raising Syracuse to a high degree of
wealth and prosperity. He preserved internal tranquillity,
C U S E.
promoted agriculture and commerce, and adorned the city Syracuse,
with many splendid buildings. The most important
war carried on by Hiero was with the Mamertines of
Messana, whom he reduced to such straits that they
were obliged to call in the Romans to their assistance.
The consequences of this have been fully related under
the articles Rome and Carthage. Hiero, who had allied
himself with the Carthaginians, being himself defeated by
the Romans, and finding his allies unable to protect him
against the power of that republic, concluded an alliance
with them, and continued faithful to them even in the time
of the second Punic war, when they were in the greatest
distress. In his reign flourished the celebrated mathema¬
tician Archimedes, whose genius he employed in fortifying
the city of Syracuse, by innumerable machines, in such a
manner as rendered it almost impregnable by any method
of attack known at that time.
Hiero died about 211 b.c. and was succeeded by his
grandson Hieronymus ; but he imprudently forsook the
counsels of his grandfather, and entered into an alliance
with the Carthaginians. He was soon afterwards murdered,
in consequence of his tyranny and cruelty ; and the greatest
disorders took place in the city, which Hannibal, though
then in Italy, found means to foment, in hopes of keeping
the Syracusans in his interest. This indeed he effected;
but as his own affairs in Italy began to decline, he could
not prevent Marcellus from landing in Sicily with a formid¬
able army, which the Sicilians had no means of resisting.
Syracuse was invested in 214 b.c. ; but the machines in¬
vented by Archimedes baffled all attempts to take it by
assault. The immense preparations which the consul had
made for taking the city by storm, could not have failed to
accomplish his purpose, had not the place been defended
by the genius of Archimedes.
The consul, finding himself defeated in every attempt,
turned the siege into a blockade, and at last made himself
master of Syracuse in 212 b.c. He took the opportunity
of a festival, when the soldiers and citizens had drunk
plentifully, to make a detachment scale the walls of the
quarter called Tyche, in that part of it which was nearest
to Epipolse, and which was ill guarded. He speedily
possessed himself of Epipolse; and the inhabitants of
Neapolis as well as of Tyche then sent deputies to offer
their submission. Marcellus granted life and liberty to all
of free condition, but gave up those quarters of the city to
be plundered. The other quarters still held out, and an
attempt was made by the Carthaginians to relieve the
place, but this proving unsuccessful, they left the citizens
to their own resources. The Romans, having obtained by
treachery a landing in the island of Ortygia, succeeded in
carrying by assault a part of Achradina, and on this the
remainder of the city was given up to them. In the con¬
fusion of the assault Archimedes was killed.
The city of Syracuse continued subject to the western
empire till its fall, when the island of Sicily, being ravaged
by barbarian tribes, the capital also underwent various
revolutions, till, at last, in the ninth century, it was so de¬
stroyed by the Saracens that very few traces of its ancient
grandeur are now to be seen. The ancient city, in its most
extended condition, was of a triangular form, and consisted
of five parts. These were Ortygia, or the Island, which was
the oldest part, Achradina, Tyche, Neapolis, and Epipolae.
The circuit, according to Strabo, amounted to 180 stadia, or
22 English miles and 4 furlongs. For an account of the
modern Syracuse see Sicilies, Two. Its population is 18,000.
901
SYRIA.
Syria.
The name.
Origin of
the name
Syria.
Stria is a country of high historic and sacred interest.
Take it in its full extent, including Palestine, and no country
in the world can be compared with it. Even that northern
section to which this article is confined has claims on our
attention possessed by few lands. Syria was the cradle of
commerce. What England is now, Phoenicia, a province
of Syria, was thirty centuries ago—“ the mistress of the
seas.” Tyre was the London of antiquity. The merchants
of every nation met and traded in her rich marts. Syria
was also the cradle of manufacture. Tyrian purple was
the garb and symbol of royalty in every land; and Homer
tells us that before his day a Sidonian robe was considered
a gift of sufficient splendour to propitiate the angry patron-
goddess of Troy (II. vi. 288). Damascus, the capital of
Syria, is confessedly the oldest city in the world; and while
its ancient rivals have been laid in the dust, it still pos¬
sesses all the freshness and beauty of youth. Antioch, an¬
other capital of Syria, was the third city of the Roman em¬
pire, and was famous even in the Augustan age for its splen¬
dour, its wealth, and the luxurious refinement of its inhabi¬
tants ; and there, eighteen centuries ago, the name we bear
and in which we glory—the name Christian, was invented.
The mountains of Syria possess an interest far surpassing
those of Greece or Italy. The names of Hermon and Le¬
banon are household words ; and they are bound by sacred
ties to all our hearts hold dear.
Notwithstanding all this, the geography of Syria has yet
to be written. No regular survey of it has ever been made;
the sites of some of its great cities remain unexplored and
almost unknown; the picturesque beauty of its wildest glens
and mountains has never been fully described ; and the
abundant resources of its soil and its mines have never been
fairly estimated. In the writings of Maundrell, Shaw,
Burckhardt, Chesney, Robinson, and Porter, we have all
hitherto published, as the result of personal research, re¬
garding the modern geography of Syria.
The original name of the country, now usually called
Syria by western geographers, was Aram. This, in fact,
is the only name given to it in the Old Testament, but the
Hebrew Aram (D’W) is generally rendered in the English
version Syria, probably after the Septuagint 2,vpia (2 Sam.
x. 6; 1 Kings x. 29; xv. 18, &c.) Aram was a son of
Shem ; and his descendants having peopled a large district,
embracing Mesopotamia and north-eastern Syria, gave to
this country the name of their progenitor (Gen. x. 22; xxv.
20); just as the family of Asshur, the elder brother of
Aram, called their country Assyria. The Semitic name
Aram is not confined to the sacred writings. It is used by
Homer (II. ii. 783) ; and Strabo states, that those who are
commonly named Syrians call themselves Aramceans (Apay-
p-diovs; Geog. i.; xiii. 4; xvi. 4; see Reland, Pal. p. 46).
It is a singular fact, that the name Syria, though known to,
has never been adopted by, native writers. The only
name generally known among the inhabitants, and used by
their authors, is Esh-Sham.
Some think the name Syria is derived from Tyre, in its
Semitic form Sur. There can be no doubt that the city
of Tyre was from the very earliest period well known to
the Greeks; and being the place with which they were
best acquainted, and had most intercourse, they naturally
gave its name to the country ; just as they called the
southern part of the country Palestine, from the small
maritime province of Philistia (Bochart. Geog. Sac. iv. 34).
Others suppose that the word Syria is an abbreviation of
Assyria. Herodotus says, Assyria is the Barbarian and
Syria the Greek name (vii. 63). So also Justin represents
the Assyrians and Syrians as the same (i. 1) ; and Strabo Syria,
several times alludes to this, showing that such was the
general opinion of learned men in his day (Bochart. Geog.
Sac. ii. 3). In fact, by most of the classic writers, the two
names were used promiscuously. Upon examining the
subject closely, however, it would seem that this confound¬
ing of two countries arose from the similarity of the names,
and from want of clear and systematic knowledge not only
of etymology, but of geography. Assyria unquestionably
derived its appellation from the patriarch Asshur, and em¬
braced the country round Nineveh (as Pliny states, lib. ii.),
which was afterwards called Adiabane (Bochart. Geog.
Sac. ii. 3). Syria, on the other hand, was the Greek form
of Sur, and appears to have been applied somewhat vaguely
to the whole of Aram, Phoenicia, and Palestine. Some
may have prefixed the article, and thus made it ^4/-Syria or
-4s-Syria.
The old country of Aram, the Syria of the Bible, em- Extent and
braced Mesopotamia, and that section of Syria only which boundaries,
lies north of Mount Hermon, and east of the great moun¬
tain-range which runs along the coast of the Mediterranean.
Mesopotamia was called Aram-Naharaim, “ Aram of the
tw'o rivers” (Gen. xxiv. 10); while the division of Aram
west of the Euphrates appears to have been first called by
the general name Aram-Dammesek, “ Aram of Damascus,”
but was aftemards subdivided, as we shall see (2 Sam.
viii. 6). Herodotus, the first writer who uses the name
Syria, makes the country extend as far eastward as the
ancient Aram, while he stretches it northward over a large
section of Asia-Minor, westward to the Mediterranean, and
southward to the borders of Egypt (i. 72; ii. 104,116;
Reland, Pal. pp. 43, 44). Pliny writes somewhat inde¬
finitely. He says, the part of Syria bordering on Arabia
was called Palestine, Judea, Coele, and Phcenice; that in
the interior, Damascena; that south of the latter, Baby¬
lonia ; the part lying between the Euphrates and Tigris,
Mesopotamia; beyond (north of) the Taurus range, So-
phene ; on this side of it, Commagene ; and the part adjoin¬
ing Cilicia, Antiocheia. He thus extends it even farther
than Herodotus; but in another place he says, its length
from Cilicia to Arabia is 470 miles, and its breadth from
Seleucia to Zeugma on the Euphrates, 175; while he
affirms that some geographers distinguish Syria both from
Phoenicia and Judea (Hist. Nat. v. 13). According to
Xenophon (Anab. i. 4), Syria was separated from Cilicia
by a pass called the “ Syrian Gates;” but he includes in it
Mesopotamia. Strabo’s description is more definite (xvi. 2).
Syria, he writes, was bounded on the north by Cilicia and
Mount Amanus; on the east by the Euphrates and the
Arabian Scenitae, who live on its western bank; on the
south by Arabia-Felix and Egypt; and on the west by the
Mediterranean. Some of the old geographers speak of
Phoenicia as a distinct province (Herodot. iii. 5 ; Ptolemy,
&c.) ; while others, as Strabo and Pliny, include it in Syria.
Jewish writers generally distinguish between Syria and
Palestine (Reland. Pal. p. 10). Ptolemy confines Syria
to what may be regarded as its proper limits (Hist. Nat. v.)
He says it was bounded on the south by Judea, on the
west by the Mediterranean, on the north by Cilicia and
Cappadocia, and on the east by the Euphrates as far as
Thapsacus, and by the Arabian desert. This is the region
which forms the subject of the present article.
The boundaries of Syria may be more definitely stated,
as follows :—On the north, a line drawn from the head of
the Gulf of Issus eastward to the Euphrates ; on the east,
the River Euphrates as far as the ruins of Thapsacus, now
902
S Y K I A.
Syria. El-Hummam, and then a line drawn past Palmyra, and
across the plain to the Hauran Mountains; on the south,
a line extending from the Hauran Mountains, by the waters
of Merom, to the ruins of Tyre; on the west, the ‘Great
Sea” The province thus extends from 33. 15. to 36. 50.
north latitude ; and from 35. 10. to about 37. 40. east
longitude. , . , f o • •
Physical The surface formation or physical structure of Syria is
geography, peculiar. The country is divided into a series of longitu¬
dinal belts, extending from noith to south. Iheie is hist
a narrow belt of plain along the sea-coast; next to this is
a belt of mountains ; next follows a long valley ; then an¬
other but less regular mountain-range ; and lastly, a great
belt of table-land. These we shall take in order.
1. The maritime plain.—This plain commences on the
south, at the Promontorium Album, a bold promontory of
white, limestone which projects into the Mediterranean.
From hence to the banks of the river Auwaly (the ancient
Bostrenus), a distance of 28 miles, the average breadth of
the plain is about a mile. Opposite the sites of Tyre and
Sidon the mountains retreat slightly, and the coast also
pits out into the sea; the breadth is there increased to some
two miles; while in other places the rocky hills almost dip
into the Mediterranean. The surface of the plain is undu¬
lating, and the soil fertile, composed chiefly of disintegrated
limestone, washed down from the heights of Lebanon. The
greater part of it is now waste and desolate, but the few
spots still cultivated show what it might be. The gardens
and orchards of Sidon are almost unrivalled, producing
melons, bananas, mulberries, figs, grapes, apricots, and
oranges, in addition to the more common fruits and veget¬
ables. Here and there we still meet with a few scattered
palm-trees. This little plain constituted the nucleus of
Phoenicia. Its coast-line is singularly bare and uniform.
Opposite the promontory of Tyre there was formerly an
island; it is now a peninsula, having been united to the
mainland by Alexander’s Mole; on it stood the new city of
Tyre. (See Tyre.)
Between the River Auwaly and Beyrout the plain is in¬
tersected by several rocky spurs from Lebanon. The pro¬
montory of Beyrout is low and sandy. From the base ot
the mountains to the apex it measures about 3 miles. Vast
groves of olives, gardens of mulberries, and orchards of
fruit-trees grow upon it; but the drifting sand threatens
them all with destruction. The bay of St George, on its
northern side, affords, perhaps, the safest anchorage along
the whole coast. It derives its name from its being the
scene of the fabled contest between England s patron
saint and the Dragon.
North of this bay the plain is again broken for a distance
of nearly 20 miles by the rugged roots of Lebanon. On
approaching Tripolis, it opens out into broad and beautiful
fields and orchards. The gardens of Tripolis are more
extensive and scarcely less productive than those of Sidon.
Northward the plain still expands to a breadth of some 6
miles, sweeping round the gentle curve of a spacious bay,
which extends to the rocky islet on which the ruins of
Aradus lie, 25 miles from Tripolis. The soil is here ex¬
ceedingly fertile, though the greater part of it is waste.
From Aradus to the base of Mount Casius the plain con¬
tinues unbroken, varying from 2 to 5 miles in width.
Mount Casius interrupts it, rising abruptly from the sea.
On its northern side lies the rich alluvial plain of Seleucia,
at the mouth of the Orontes, now in part covered with
orchards of mulberries and cultivated fields. I hen, again,
the bold headland called Ras-el-Khanzir juts into the Me¬
diterranean, separating the plain of Seleucia from that of
Issus. The latter is very narrow, low, and marshy. At
its northern end is a low promontory over which the road
is carried; on the top of the pass are the remains of an
ancient arch, and not far distant may be seen traces of a
massive wall. This is doubtless the site of the tc Syrian
Gates” referred to by Xenophon in his description of the ^
march of Cyrus, and is, consequently, the northern limit of
our province.
2. The Mountain Range.—This range shuts in the
maritime plain on the east, and is divided naturally, as well
as historically and nominally, into three sections. The
southern section is called
Lebanon. The great chain of Lebanon commences on
the north bank of the River Litany, from whose gloomy
defile it rises boldly and abruptly. It runs in a north¬
eastern direction for about 90 miles, and terminates at the
pass called in Scripture the “ Entrance of Hamath.” The
breadth of the ridge varies from 15 to 20 miles, and its
average elevation is about 7000 feet. Two peaks, Jebel-
Sunnin and Jebel-Mukhmel, rise considerably higher ; and
on their summits the snow remains in streaks during the
whole summer. The latter is the loftiest mountain in
Syria, rising about 10,000 feet above the sea. The main
body of the ridge is limestone, but along the lower west¬
ern slopes are thick strata ot chalk, and fossils of various
kinds everywhere abound. The summits are rounded, bare,
and of a greyish-white colour. On the eastern side the
descent is rugged and abrupt into the valley of Bukaa, the
ancient Coele-Syria; while on the w'estern it is more gentle,
and we here see what industry can do even amid the wildest
forms of nature, when it has a Syrian soil to woik upon
and a Syrian climate to aid it. No idea could be formed
of the resources or cultivation of Lebanon by looking up
from the maritime plains. As the whole range from base
almost to summit is cultivated in terraces, nothing meets
the eye when turned upwards but rude walls ol rough
stones, and loffy cliffs of gray rock. But when, on gaining
some commanding peak, the eye is turned downward, one
can scarcely repress the thought that the wand ol an en¬
chanter has been waved over the scene. Stair-like ten aces
of bright green corn and luxuriant vines, intermixed with
long ranges of mulberries, olives, and fig-trees, have taken
the place of naked rocks. Those more rugged parts along
the lower declivities where cultivation is impossible, aie
scantily clothed with the oak and the pine. And high up
on the side of the loftiest peak, far apart from other tiees,
still stand in stately, solitary grandeur the little grove of
cedars—the last remnant of a sacred forest.
Nusairigeh Mountains. 1 he pass at the northern end
of Lebanon, through which the road leads from the coast
to the plain of Hamath, is about 5 miles wide. Beyond it
rise the Nusairiyeh Mountains, which run in an unbroken
chain northward to the Orontes, constituting the second
section of the general chain. I hey are much lower than
Lebanon, not averaging more than 4000 feet. Limestone
is the prevailing rock; and thin oak-forests cover nearly
the whole ridge. Where the chain meets the Orontes at
Antioch, it sweeps round to the west, and terminates
abruptly in a singular conical peak, which rises up bate
and steep to a height of 5700 feet; this is the Casius of
which Pliny tells such wonderful stories. The Nusairiyeh
range is the Bargylus Mons of old geographers.
Jawar Dagh. On the north bank of the Orontes the
mountains again rise abruptly in huge masses ot naked lock.
A spur shoots out from them westward, shutting in the
plain of Seleucia and terminating in the bold promontory
of Ras-el-Khanzir. This part was formerly called Mons
Pieria, from whence the city of Seleucia took its name
Pieria. The chain which continues northward is the
Amanus of Roman geographers, and is now called in
Turkish Jawar Dagh. It has an elevation of about 6000
feet, and its scenery is both wild and picturesque, the lower
slopes being furrowed with deep glens and clothed with
forests of evergreen oak.
3. The Great Central Valley.—T\ns valley runs along
Syria.
SYRIA. 903
Syria, the eastern base of the mountain-chain, and forms the most
striking feature in the physical geography of the country.
It is the continuation of a wonderful crevasse, which, fur¬
ther south along the course of the Jordan, has for a hun¬
dred miles and more a depression varying from 1 foot to
1312 feet below the level of the sea. Between the parallel
ridges of Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon this valley extends
from S.W. to N.E. about 70 miles in length, and is from
3 to 7 miles in breadth. It is almost perfectly flat; and the
soil is in general rich, loamy, and abundantly watered. It
is the Coele-Syria of the ancients ; and its modern name is
El-Bukda, “ the Plain.” It has an elevation of some 3000
feet above the sea. At its northern end it joins the plain
of Hamath, which extends far eastward; but there is still
enough of depression along the course of the river Orontes
to indicate the proper line of the valley. At Hamath it has
again a ridge of hills on its eastern side ; and here its course
is due north, and it gradually contracts until, sweeping round
westward at Antioch, it cuts through the mountain-chain
in a sublime gorge, opening a way for the Orontes ^o the
Mediterranean.
4. The Anti-Lebanon Range.—Along the east side of the
valley of Coele-Syria lies another mountain-range, the Anti-
Libanus of old geographers, now called Jebel Esh-Shurky.
It rises up on the plain of Jaulan, a few miles east of the
waters of Merom, and runs due north for 20 miles, gradually
increasing in elevation, and covered with oak-forests. It
then joins Mount Hermon, which is the culminating point
of the whole range. It is a massive, white, naked, truncated
cone, attaining an elevation of nearly 10,000 feet; and is,
like the peaks of Lebanon, tipped with perpetual snow.
From Hermon, as a centre, several ridges radiate, spread¬
ing out like an opening fan from N.E. to E. The ridge
on the extreme left is the loftiest, varying from 4000 to 7000
feet in height; it sinks down into the plain of Hamath after
a course of about 80 miles. That on the extreme right is
much lower ; it bounds the plain of Damascus, and extends
away beyond Palmyra. All the ridges are bare, and hope¬
lessly barren ; though here and there one meets with scanty
forests of oak and juniper. The main ridge is limestone,
like Lebanon, abounding with fossils; but the lower ridges
toward the plain of Damascus are chalky, and in places
white as snow. They form a fit home for wild beasts—
bears, leopards, wolves, swine, and especially jackals. Be¬
tween the expanding ridges are several terrace-like pla¬
teaus, bleak and arid, though not all barren; and they are
intersected by two wild and rich glens—Abana, which
creates by its abundant waters the noble plain of Damascus,
and Helbon, famed as of yore for its vintage (Ezek. xxvii.
18). The fullest account of this remote region will be
found in Porter’s Damascus.
Plain of Hamath. At the northern end of the main,
or western, ridge of Anti-Lebanon lies the fertile plain of
Hamath, extending from the banks of the Orontes to the
desert of Palmyra. About 50 miles north of Anti-Lebanon
another chain rises up in the same line, not far from the
ruins of Apamea. It is made up of several clumps of hills,
almost detached; and it runs northwards as far as the
parallel of Aleppo. These hills are limestone, in places
well wooded, and are intersected by little fertile plains and
valleys. They are interesting to the traveller and anti¬
quarian as containing some of the most remarkable ruins
in Syria. The southern section is called Jebel-Riha, the
central Jebel-el-Ala, and the northern Jebel-Siman, from
its having been the residence of St Simon Stylite.
5. The Eastern Plateau.—This plateau continues al¬
most unbroken from the southern limits of the country to
the banks of the Euphrates. Its southern section consti¬
tuted the ancient kingdom of Bashan, and is one of the
most fertile tracts in Western Asia. Its surface is flat, with
a deep, rich, black soil, and is dotted here and there with
little conical and cup-shaped mounds of basalt, evidently Syria,
extinct craters. It has an average elevation of nearly 2500
feet above the sea. In the very centre of this plain is
one of the most remarkable regions in the world, in a
physical point of view. It is now named the Lejah, or
“ Retreat,” but the Hebrews called it Argob, and the
Greeks Trachonitis, both words being descriptive of its
wild, stony character. It is oval in shape, about 25 miles
long by 13 wide. Its borders are as clearly defined as a
rocky coast-line. The general surface is elevated from 20
to 30 feet above the surrounding plain. It is wholly com¬
posed of basalt rock, which appears to have issued from in¬
numerable pores in the earth, and to have flowed outon every
side until the plain was almost covered. Before cooling it
seems to have been tossed like a tempestuous sea. The
crater-like cavities from which the liquid mass exuded are
still visible. Deep fissures and yawning chasms intersect the
whole like a network; while here and there are huge
mounds of shattered rock. The rock is black, filled with
air-bubbles, and hard as flint. The aspect of the whole is
savage and desolate in the extreme. The very trees that
grow aimong the rocks have a blasted look; yet, strange
to say, this forbidding region is thickly studded with deserted
towns and villages.
Mountains of Bashan. Away on the eastern border of
the plain is an isolated range of volcanic hills, the highest
peak of which, called Kuleib, has an elevation of about
5000 feet. Their sides are partially covered with remains
of ancient oak-forests, and dotted with the ruins of primeval
cities. These are the “ Mountains of Bashan” mentioned
in the Bible, called Alsadamus Mons by Ptolemy, and
Jebel-Hauran by the Arabs. Another isolated and much
lower ridge separates the territory of Bashan from Da¬
mascus.
The Plain of Damascus, now called El-Ghutah, is cele¬
brated throughout the world for its richness and beauty.
It is perfectly flat; and its fertility and surpassing loveliness
are wholly owing to the waters of the Abana and Pharpar,
which are diffused by innumerable canals and ducts over
its surface. On the north of the Ghutah the low bare ridge
which runs eastward from Hermon intersects the great
plateau ; but beyond this range it again extends arid, bleak,
and desolate—fit abode for timid gazelle and wild Bedawy
—far away to the banks of the Euphrates. On its western
side, in the midst of low, white, chalk-hills, stands Aleppo.
Between Aleppo and the Euphrates is a large salt marsh.
The Orontes, now called El’Asy, is the largest river in Rivers.
Syria. Its highest source is in the valley of Coele-Syria,
beside the ruins of Lybo, at the base of Anti-Lebanon ; but
its principal source is 10 miles farther down, at the eastern
base of Lebanon. It flows northward towards Hums, the
ancient Emesa, where a strong embankment, built many
centuries ago, dams up the river, and forms a large lake,
called Kades. From hence it flows on in the same gene¬
ral direction through the centre of the valley to the parallel
of Antioch, where it turns abruptly westward, and passes
through a sublime gorge to the Mediterranean. Before
passing Antioch it is doubled in size by a tributary from a
lake called Bahr-el-Abiad, lying a few miles northward.
The Leontes, now called El-Litany, is the second river
in magnitude. It rises in the plain of Coele-Syria, near
Baalbek, and receives numerous small tributaries from
Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon. At the southern end of the
plain it enters a narrow deep ravine, in many places only a
few feet wide, and at one spot spanned by a natural bridge.
After intersecting the mountain-ridge, it falls into the Me¬
diterranean near Tyre.
The Abana, the Chrysorrhoas of the Greeks and Barada
of the Arabs, is a wild mountain-torrent, rising in the very
centre of Anti-Lebanon, cutting in succession through three
of its parallel ridges, and at length bursting forth from its
904 S Y K I A.
Syria, rocky barrier, bearing gold in its bosom and scattering
emeralds far and wide over the matchless plain of Damascus.
About 15 miles east of the city, the river, greatly reduced
in size, divides into two branches, each ot which feeds a
little lake.
The other rivers of Syria are the Pharpar, now called
Nahr-el-Awaj, which rises high up on the side of Hermon,
flows across the plain of Damascus, and falls into a lake, or
rather marsh. The Lycus flumen, or Nahr-el-Kelb (the
Latin “wolf” having degenerated into the Arab “dog”).
Its source is on Jebel-Sunnin, and it falls into the Medi¬
terranean some eight miles north of Beyrout. At its mouth
is the remarkable pass where Egyptian, Assyrian, and
Roman conquerors have in succession inscribed records of
their deeds. The Adonis springs from a cave beneath a
stupendous cliff beside the ruins of Apheca, and through a
yawning chasm,
“ Runs purple to the sea, supposed with blood
Of Thammuz yearly wounded.”
The Eleutherus, now Nahr-el-Kebir, sweeps round the
northern end of Lebanon, through the “ Entrance of Ha¬
math,” and falls into the Mediterranean some 15 miles north
of Tripolis.
Historical No country in the world of the same extent has passed
and poli- through so many political changes and vicissitudes as Syria,
tical geo- Its first colonists were the descendants of Aram, who gave
graphy. tjle narae 0f their progenitor to the whole eastern section
of the country. This section was soon subdivided into . no
less than six districts. (1.) Its northern part, between the
city of Hamath and the Euphrates, was called Aram-Zobah
(1 Sam. xiv. 47 ; 2 Sam. x. 6, comp. viii. 3). Palmyra ap¬
pears to have been in this province (2 Chr. viii. 3, 4).
South of the farmer lay Aram-Dammesek, so named from
Damascus its capital (2 Sam. viii. 5). (3.) A small terri¬
tory round the base of Hermon was attached to the city of
Beth-Maachah, and hence called Aram-Maachah (1 Kings
xv. 20 ; Deut. iii. 14 ; IChr. xix. 6). (4.) Apparently ad¬
joining the latter was another small territory, called Aram-
JBeth-Rehob (comp. Judges xviii. 28; 2 Sam. x. 6). (5.)
Josephus states that Uz, the son of Aram, founded the
principality of Trachonitis [Antiq. i. 7), which the Hebrews
called Argob. It contained many great and strong cities
founded by a race of giants (Deut. iii. 13, 14), the remains
of which still exist (Porter’s Damascus, vol. ii.) (6.) Be¬
tween Trachonitis and Damascus lay a small but very an¬
cient province, colonized by Jetur, a son of Ishmael (Gen.
xxv. 15), and by the Greeks named Iturea.
Mount Lebanon appears from the earliest ages to have
been inhabited by several small independent tribes, who
were more or less closely connected with their neighbours
on the coast, the Phoenicians. The Arkites (Gen. x. 17)
dwelt in Lebanon, and the ruins of their old capital Area
may still be seen a few miles from Tripolis. The Giblites
were also “ mountaineers” of Lebanon, and they gave their
name to a city and province which to this day we can re¬
cognize in the Arabic form, Jebeil.
Phoenicia was a province so distinct and so remarkable
that it will be treated separately in the sequel.
Under the Seleucidae the various principalities of Syria
were for a time united in one kingdom; but during the
harassing civil wars of this dynasty a new division took
place, and the old city of Damascus was made the capital
of a southern kingdom, including Palestine.
The political divisions of Syria in classic ages, as given
by Greek and Roman geographers, are far from being de¬
finite. Strabo mentions five provinces :—1. Commagene, a
fertile and comparatively level region, lying along the right
bank of the Euphrates; bounded on the N. by Mount Taurus,
and on the W. by the range of Amanus. Samosata was its
metropolis, and was situated on the Euphrates, which was
here spanned by a bridge (Strabo, Geog. xvi.) 2. Seleucis
lay on the S. and S.W. of the former, and embraced the Syria,
territories annexed to the cities of Seleucia-Pieria, Antioch, ^
Apamea, andLaodicea-ad-Mare. 2>. Coele-Syria. This pro¬
vince was originally confined, as the name implies, to the
great valley between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon ; but in
Strabo’s time it was already extended almost indefinitely
southward and eastward. It included the territory of Chalcis,
a city at the western base of Anti-Lebanon, 20 miles south
of Heliopolis; the province of Abila, or Abilene, a moun¬
tainous region between Hermon and the valley of the
Abana (Luke iii. 1); Damascus, with its noble plain;
Iturea ; Gaulanitis, lying along the east bank of the upper
Jordan ; Auranitis, the beautiful plateau east of the latter;
Trachonitis, already described; and Batansea, which em¬
braced the mountains called Jebel-Hauran. 4. Phoenicia
(see below). 5. Judaea (see article Palestine).
Pliny’s divisions are still more numerous than Strabo’s;
and Ptolemy makes no less than fifteen provinces. In fact,
it appears from a careful perusal of ancient authors, that
every city as it rose to importance gave its name to a little
state rtmnd it; but whenever it was eclipsed by a neigh¬
bouring rival, its principality was swallowed up. This gave
rise to great confusion in the political geography of the
country; but the fact sufficiently accounts for that inde¬
finiteness so marked in the works of Strabo, Pliny, and
Ptolemy. Ptolemy mentions three small districts not named
by Strabo:—1. The Coast, from the Syrian Gates to the
border of Phoenicia. This included the narrow plain of
Issus, and the plain at the mouth of the Orontes, which
Strabo calls Pieria. 2. Palmyrene, embracing the desert
plains, and naked mountains round Palmyra, and extending
eastward to the Euphrates. 3. Laodicea Scabiosa em¬
braced the southern section of the plain of Hums, and a
part of the adjoining ridge of Anti-Lebanon. The site of the
old city from which it took its name was identified a few
years ago by the writer of this article. The ruins lie upon
the bank of the Orontes, 15 miles above Emesa (Hums),
and are now called Tell Mindau.
Under the Romans Syria became a province of the em¬
pire, and was generally governed by a proconsul. Some
portions of it, however, were for a time suffered to remain
under the rule of petty princes, who were dependent on the
imperial government, and whose dominions were gradually
incorporated. There were also a number of cities to which
freedom was given; these had their own laws, and admin¬
istered their own revenues. Both principalities and free
cities were financially subject to the Roman government—
they were, in fact, employed as instruments for the collec¬
tion of the imperial revenues. Antioch was the usual re¬
sidence of the governor, and was the acknowledged capital
of the province. The province increased so rapidly in
extent and wealth that, in the reign of Hadrian, it was
found necessary to divide it into three parts, namely—1.
Syria Major, with Antioch at first, and afterwards Laodicea
as its capital; 2. Syria Phcenice, or Syrophenice (Mark
vii. 26), embracing the territories of Tyre, Damascus, and
Palmyra; 3. Syria Paloestina. Towards the close of the
fourth century another subdivision of Syria took place,
which formed the basis of the ecclesiastical government.
The sections were as follows:—1. Syria prima, with An¬
tioch for its capital, and the greater part of Northern Syria
within its borders. 2. Syria Secunda ; capital city, Apa¬
mea. It embraced the rich plain of Hamath, with several
large and prosperous towns. 3. Phoenicia Prima, includ¬
ing the greater part of the ancient province of Phoenicia,
and extending as far inland as Caesarea Philippi. Its metro¬
polis was Tyre. 4. Phoenicia Secunda, also called Phoe-
nicia-ad-Libanum. Damascus was its capital; and Abila,
Heliopolis, Laodicea-ad-Libanum, and Palmyra, were sub¬
ject to its governor. The other sections were Paloestina
Prima, Secunda, and Tertia.
SYRIA.
Phoenicia. In the beginning of the seventh century the wild fol-
v—V—lowers of Mohammed captured Syria, and then Damascus
became for a time not only the capital of all Syria, but also
of an empire that extended from the Indian Ocean to the
shores of the Atlantic. The changes and vicissitudes
through which Syria passed from that period to the present
day belong more to history than geography.
The whole country of Syria and Palestine is at present
divided into three pashalics—Damascus, Aleppo, and Sidon.
I he Pashalic of Damascus includes the districts lying east
of the Jordan, the Bukaa, and the Orontes as far north as
Hamath. Damascus is the residence of the commander-
in-chief of all the Sultan’s forces in Syria. The Pashalic
oj Sidon includes all Palestine west of the Jordan, all
Lebanon, and the coast as far north as Tripolis. Beyrout
is the capital, and is at present the most flourishing town in
Syria. A governor, with the title of pasha, resides at Jeru¬
salem ; but he is subject to the Pasha of Sidon. The Pa¬
shalic of Aleppo embraces all northern Syria, with a section
of Asia-Minor, extending to Aintab and Marash. The fol¬
lowing table gives a comprehensive view of the statistics
of these pashalics so far as they are known. It must be re¬
membered that the Turks are far behind in statistics: 
905
Name.
Muslems...,
Christians..
Jews 
Druzes 
Metawileh .
Nusairiyeh.
Damascus.
412,000
79,100
5,300
18,000
18,900
14,500
Total.
547,800
Aleppo.
460,000
81,000
10,000
Not known
41,000
592,000
Sidon.
424,000
281,000
9,000
60,000
7,000
Not known
781,000
Total.
1,296,000
441,100
24,300
78,000
25,900
55,500
1,920,800
PHOENICIA.
The best geographers have included Phoenicia in Syria,
and, therefore, its physical geography, statistics, and more
recent history, have been connected in this article with
those of the latter country; but the political state and his¬
tory of Phoenicia, during the period of its independence, are
so distinct and so interesting that the writer has thought it
best to give a condensed view of them in this place in a
separate form.
The Semitic and ancient name of Phoenicia was Chna,
or Canaan (1^3, Greek, Xm). This is the only name
used by the Phoenicians themselves, and also by the
Hebrews (Gen. x. 17-19; Reland, Pal. p. 7). It signifies
“ low region,” probably as opposed to the plateau of Aram;
and is, therefore, descriptive of the country. (The root is
“to be low.”) The word Phoenicia is supposed
by some to be derived from the name of a man, said to be
a biother of Cadmus; by others from “a palm ;
by others from the purple dye, <£oivos ; and by others from
the Red Sea, whence, according to Herodotus (vii. 89), the
Phoenicians came. '
Extent and Ancient geographers give widely different accounts of
boundaries, the extent of Phoenicia. Some say it included the whole
maritime plain from the Gulf of Issus to Egypt; while
others confine it between the rivers Eleutherus and Croco-
dilon. Some make it run as far eastward as Damascus;
while others shut it in by the ridge of Lebanon. This is
not much to be wondered at. The Phoenicians would not
confine themselves within definite bounds. They went
wherever they found an opening for trade, and they con¬
trived to make that spot their home. It is probable that
the nucleus of the nation was very small, including only the
narrow strip of plain along the western base of Lebanon,
between the Promontorium Album and the River Bos-
trenus. Soon, however, they extended northwards and
southwards, building cities wherever they found a little bay
VOL. xx.
oi cape to shelter their ships. Sidon and Tyre were the Phoenicia,
paient cities the cradles of the world’s commerce. The
island of Aradus was early occupied ; then followed Accho
and Dor on the south, Tripolis and Gabala on the north.
All these, and many more, were colonized before the time
of Herodotus (iii. 5; iv. 38, See.) About the period of the
Roman conquest of Syria (b.c. 64), the limits of Phoenicia
were pretty accurately defined. Pliny says it reached from
Aradus to the Crocodile river, which falls into the sea a
few miles south of Dor, a distance of 140 miles ; its breadth
did not average more than 2 or 3 miles. Its situation was
admirably adapted for the development of its commerce.
On the east, the ridge of Lebanon secured it from attack.
I he great strongholds, Tyre and Sidon, were so placed
naturally as to bid defiance to any ordinary foe. The only
approaches to them lay along the coast, and these were
defended by the difficult passes at the River Lycus and the
Promontorium Album. The coast beyond these points was
more open. On the west, the Phoenicians had an uninter-
lupted seaboard, with a number of little rock-girt ports,
insignificant indeed as respects modern navigation, but suf¬
ficient for the wants of those primitive ages. The plain,
though narrow, is rich, and abundantly watered by streams
from Lebanon. The mountain-sides above yielded oil, and
wine, and “summer fruits,”for which they are still famous;
besides an unlimited supply of pine, cedar, and oak, for
ship-building. I he gardens and fields below produced
those palm-groves which probably gave the country its
name. I he palm has almost disappeared, only a few soli¬
tary trees appearing here and there; but orchards of oranges
and lemons have taken their place round Sidon, Beyrout,
and Iripolis. The glory of Phoenicia has passed. A
mournful and solitary silence now reigns along the treater
part of a coast which once resounded with the din& of an
enterprising commercial people.
The early part of Phoenicia’s history is, in a great mea- History of
sure, legendary. In the Bible Sidon is said to be a son 0fPhcenicia*
Canaan ; and the Arvadites and Arkites, two other Phoeni¬
cian tribes, were of the same family (Gen. x. 17, 18). In
the Scriptures, as well as on their own coins and inscriptions,
the Phoenicians are always called Canaanites (Judges i. 31 ;
Reland, Pal. p. 7). It would seem, however, from the
nature of the language, which closely resembles the He¬
brew (Gesen. Monum. Phcen.), that they were either amal¬
gamated with some Semitic tribe, or had such intimate
relations with their neighbours of Aram, as led them to
adopt their language. Herodotus says they immigrated
from the Red Sea, and Strabo that they came from two
islands in the Persian Gulf. There can be no doubt that
the whole descendants of Ham migrated from the plains of
Assyria; and the route followed by the Canaanites may
have been along the shores of the Persian Gulf, up the Red
Sea, and, as Justin states (xviii. 3), to the Assyrian Lake,
or Dead Sea, and thence finally to the coast at Sidon.
But however this may be, it is certain that they were
settled on the little plain at the base of Lebanon, at least as
early as the time of Abraham (comp. Gen. x. 19 ; xv. 21),
or nearly 2000 years b.c. Herodotus, who made a journey
to Tyre for the express purpose of verifying a date, stages
that the great temple of Hercules in that city had already
existed twenty-three centuries. This would throw back
the founding of the temple, and of course the city, to about
b.c. 2800, or some 450 years before the Flood, according
to the common chronology. No scholar, however, who
examines in an impartial spirit the confused annals and
long-drawn chronological records of'Phcenicia or Egypt,
will venture to adopt them in preference to that of the
Bible.
Sidon was the first capital of Phoenicia. It was empha¬
tically the Great Zidon ” when the Israelites invaded
Canaan (b.c. 14o0 ; Josh. xi. 8). It is several times meii’
0 Y
906
S Y R I A.
Phoenicia; tioned by Homer, and before his day its manufactures had
obtained a world-wide celebrity. In the earliest periods of
Grecian history Sidonian ships were well known on the
coasts, and Sidonian merchants in the marts of that countiy,
and also of Asia-Minor. Isaiah wrote, more than twenty-
five centuries ago, “Tyre is of ancient days : / the
crowning city, whose merchants are princes (xxui. / 12) ;
and yet he calls her a “ daughter of Zidon.” The glory ot
the daughter then excelled that of the mother, and hence
we can account for the fact that some later classic authors
call Tyre aaripa <Wk£v. In fact, from the earliest period
of which we have any trustworthy and lull history, Tyre
was the chief city of the Phoenicians. Here Hiram reigned
who aided Solomon in building the Temple and in navi¬
gating his fleets. From his days to the time of Pygmalion
we have a dry, uninteresting list of the rulers of Tyre. (See
Kenrick’s Phcenicia ; Mover’s Die Pkdnitzier ; Bochart’s
Geog. Sac.) During the reign of Pygmalion the great
colony of Carthage was founded by his sister Dido, so well
known to the readers of Virgil. Some time after this the
friendly relations which had subsisted for several centuries
between the Phoenicians and Israelites were broken; and
the cruelties perpetrated by the former were the causes of
the prophetic curses pronounced upon them by Joel and
Ezekiel (Joel iii.; Ezek. xxvi.), and subsequently so fear¬
fully executed. The whole of Phcenicia was overrun by
the Assyrian monarch Shalmanezer (Joseph. Antiq., ix. 14),
and afterwards by Nebuchadnezzar, when Sidon was cap¬
tured, and Tyre stood a siege of thirteen years (Antiq. x.
11). In the days of Darius both Phcenicia and Palestine
were considered provinces of the Assyrian empire, though
still enjoying a kind of independence. The Phoenicians
had now attained to great eminence, not only as a commer¬
cial, but also as a warlike people. Their fleets were con¬
stantly employed in the wars between the Persians and
Greeks under Darius and Xerxes (Herodot. vii. and vin.)
About b.C. 352, the Phoenicians attempted to regain their
independence, and resist the power of Persia ; but though
they made a noble effort to defend Sidon against the hated
foe, they were basely betrayed, and then visited by a ter¬
rible punishment. Forty thousand of the inhabitants of
Sidon are said to have burned their houses over their heads
rather than submit to the cruel conquerors,
v After the victory of Issus, Alexander the Great marched
upon Phoenicia; and, after an obstinate siege, captured t le
island-city of Tyre. Phcenicia now lost its nationality, and
with this much of its enterprising spirit. Situated on the
confines of the dominions of the Seleucidae and the
mies, it was often the theatre of devastating wars. When
the Roman empire extended to Western Asia, Phcenicia
was annexed to the province of Syria. Tyre, Sidon, and
Aradus still continued to prosper ; and Beritus rose to fame,
not merely as a commercial city, but as a seat of learning.
From this period, however, the history of Phoenicia merges
into that of Syria. .
It was not for their navigation merely, and their commer¬
cial enterprise, that the Phoenicians were celebrated. I hey
were generally regarded, in ancient times, as the inventois
of those phonetic chai'acters which, to some extent, loim
the basis of all literature. The earliest specimens of Greek
inscriptions bear considerable resemblance in the forms o
their letters to the Phoenician; and they are found in some
places colonized by the Phoenicians. Their skill in woi
ing gold and silver was also widely known. The bowl pre¬
sented by Menelaus to Telemachus, and the silver vase
proposed by Achilles as the reward in the funeral games o
Patrocles, were of Phoenician workmanship (Homer, Od.
iv. 618; Iliad, xxiii. 743). The bronze castings and purple
robes of Tyre were everywhere prized. Even in the Ro¬
man age that city enjoyed the exclusive privilege of manu¬
facturing the royal purple. The dye was obtained from
small shell-fish, of the genera buccinum and nnirex, found Syria,
along the rocky coast. Each mollusk yields but a single
drop^of the fluid dye, which is extracted by a sharp-pointed
instrument (Pliny, Hist. Nat., ix.) Glass was also manu¬
factured in Phcenicia at a very early period. It is said to
have been accidentally discovered by some merchants, who
arrived on the coast near Carmel with a cargo of natron;
and having used some pieces of it to keep up their cooking
vessel on the fire, it was melted by the heat, and, mingling
with the sand, produced glass (Plin. xxxvi.)
Colonies were planted by the Phoenicians in almost every Colonies,
maritime country of the known world; in this respect, also,
they were the Anglo-Saxons of antiquity. Cyprus was
probably their earliest colony beyond the Syrian coast, and
traces of their monuments remain on the island to this day.
Thence they extended along the shores of Asia-Minor to
Rhodes and the isles of Greece. Several towns were
founded on the coast of Crete ; and they crossed the mouth
of the Adriatic, and established themselves in Malta, Sicily,
and at Carthage. Cadiz and Tarshish, on the shores of
Spain, were early occupied; and it is probable that they
reached England, and carried on mining operations in
Cornwall. (See Kenrick’s Phcenicia z Bochart, Geog. Sac.)
Of the religion of the Phoenicians we have no definite oi Religion,
clear account. The fullest is given in Eusebius s Prepar.
Evangel. Baal and Ashtaroth—representatives of the sun
and moon—were their chief deities. Fo these they dedi¬
cated high places and temples in every part of their domi¬
nions. The name Baal also was often adopted by kings
and great men ; it was prefixed to that of othei deities, as
Baal-Zebub, “ God of fliesBaal-Berith, “ God of the
covenantBaal-Markos, “ God of sports ; and it was pre¬
fixed to that of places where temples or altars were set up;
as Baal-Gad, Baal-Hermon. The worship of these favourite
deities was not only carried by the Phoenicians to their
various colonies, but was also introduced among neighbour-
ing nations. Jezebel, the daughter of Eth&<z#/, piomoted
it in Israel (1 Kings xvi. 31).
Literature
and art.
There is, perhaps, no country in the world, of the same Climate of
extent, which possesses a greater variety of temperatuie and » yria-
climate than Syria. Perpetual snow crowns the summit^
of Hermon, while tropical heat scorches the deep valley ot
the upper Jordan at its base. The high altitudes along
the brow of Lebanon are as cool and invigorating during
the summer months as the south of England; while the
marshy tracts round the waters of Merom, along the banks
of the Orontes, near Apamea, and at the western base o
Mount Amanus, are almost as hot and? debilitating as the
plains of Southern India. The whole seaboard, owing to
its exposure to the rays of an unclouded sun, and its being
sheltered by the mountain-ranges behind, is very sultry,
and in some places unhealthy. But there are a few spots,
even on the coast, such as Beyrout and Sueidiyah, where
the soil is dry and the air pure; and these form excellent
winter residences for invalids. The temperature and c i-
mate in the various parts of the interior depend on the
elevation and the character of the soil. Jerusalem is mg r
and breezy ; but the rays of the sun, reflected from the bare
white rocks and white soil around, render the heat most
oppressive during the day. In Palestine rain very laie y
falls from the end of April till the beginning of October;
and a little cloud in the sky, as large as a man s hand, would
be a wonder. The whole country is thus parched ^vege¬
tation, except where streams of water flow, is extinguished;
and the air, during the long summer day, becomes so hot,
dry, and scorching, as to render travelling unpleasant, ii not
actually dangerous.
In Lebanon, on the other hand, though the sun may be<
powerful, the air is fresh and balmy ; while the dense foliage
of its sublime glens gives a pleasant shade, and its foaming
SYRIA.
907
Syria, torrents diffuse an agreeable coolness, even during the mid-
day heat. The stalwart frames of the inhabitants of Le¬
banon are the best certificates of its bracing climate. The
way in which the people digest and thrive on rancid oil,
raw vegetables, and other abominations, speaks volumes for
the peptic character of the mountain-air. The air, except
where artificial irrigation is carried to an undue extent, is
extremely dry, and malaria is almost unknown.
In Palestine the autumnal rains commence about the
latter end of October, or beginning of November ; in Le¬
banon they are a month earlier. They are usually accom¬
panied by thunder and lightning; they continue for two or
three days, not constantly, but falling chiefly during the
night. For the two succeeding months they fall heavily
at intervals. January and February are the coldest months ;
but along the coast of Syria, and in Palestine, frost is very
rarely seen, and the cold is not severe. Snow falls on the
higher altitudes along the whole mountain-ridge, on the
plains of Coele-Syria and Hamath, and the writer once saw
it eight inches deep on the terraced roofs of Damascus.
Yet, in the western declivities of Lebanon, the snow seldom
whitens the ground at a lower elevation than 2000 feet.
Rain falls at intervals during the month of March ; in Pales¬
tine it is rare in April; and even in Lebanon and Northern
Syria the few showers that occur are generally light*
In the valley of the Jordan the barley harvest begins as
early as the middle of April, and the wheat a fortnight
later. In the hill-country of Judaea reaping commences
about the beginning of June, while in Lebanon the grain is
seldom ripe before the middle of that month. A pretty
accurate index is thus given to the relative temperature of
the different districts. It is not easy to ascertain the exact
ranges of the thermometer, as much depends on the posi¬
tion of the instrument; and there are neither observatories
nor meteorological societies in the country. In Aleppo,
according to Russell, the range of the thermometer is very
great; sometimes descending below zero, and rising above
100° Fahr. During a residence of nearly ten years in Da¬
mascus, the writer never saw the thermometer below 23°,
or above 95°.
Inhabi- ^ inhabitants of Syria and Palestine form a most in-
tants of teresting study. Their dress, their manners and customs,
Syria. and their language, are all primitive. No European na¬
tion, with the exception perhaps of the Spaniards, bears the
least resemblance to them. Like Spain, too, the best
specimens of humanity are here found among the lower
classes. The farther we go from the contaminated atmo¬
sphere of government offices, the more successful shall we
be in our search after honesty, industry, and genuine patri¬
archal hospitality—the great, almost the only, unadulterated
virtue of the Arab. The people are illiterate, and extremely
ignorant of all western inventions; but there is a native
dignity in their address and deportment which will both
please and astonish those who have seen the awkward
vulgarity of the lower classes in some more favoured lands.
Whether we enter the tent of the Bedawy or the cottage of
the peasant, we are received and welcomed with an ease and
courtesy that would not disgrace a palace. The modes of
salutation are very formal, some would call them verbose
and even tedious. Still there is something pleasing in them
after all. The gestures used are graceful, if a little com¬
plicated. The touching of the heart, the lips, and the
forehead with the right hand, seems to say that each one
thus saluted is cherished in the heart, praised with the lips,
and esteemed by the intellect. An Arab when eating,
whether in the house or by the wayside, however poor and
scanty his fare, never fails to invite the visitor or passing
wayfarer to join him. And this is not always an empty
compliment. In making purchases from an Arab, one
finds his politeness almost overpowering. When the price
is asked, he replies, “ Whatever you please, my lord.”
When pressed for a more definite answer, he says, “ Take Syria,
it without money.” One cannot but remember under such
circumstances Abraham’s treaty with the sons of Heth for
the cave of Machpelah. Our feelings of romance, how¬
ever, are somewhat damped when we discover that the
price ultimately demanded is four or five times the value of
the article; and that every form of lying and misrepresen¬
tation will be tried to gain a few additional piastres. The
only exception to the general politeness of the Arabs in
their intercourse with strangers of another faith, is to be
found in some bigoted Muslems of the old school, who
have for long centuries been accustomed to use the words
“ infidel,” “ dog,” “ Christian,” as synonyms.
The modern inhabitants of Syria and Palestine are a
mixed race, made up of the descendants of the ancient Syrians
who occupied the country in the early days of Christianity ;
and of the Arabianswho came in with the armies of the khalifs
and settled in the cities and villages. The number of the latter
being comparatively small, the mixture of blood did not
visibly change the type of the ancient people. This may
be seen by comparing the Christians with the Muslems.
The former are undoubtedly of pure Syrian descent, while
the latter are more or less mixed, and yet there is no visi¬
ble distinction between the two save what dress makes.
Every observer, however, may at a glance distinguish the
Jew, the Turk, or the Armenian, each of whom is of a
different race. The whole inhabitants may be best con¬
sidered under the heads of religious sects. Religion has
made most of the real distinctions existing among them;
though difference of climate, employment, and mode of life
have also had their effects on dress and minor matters.
The mountaineer, for example, has his bag-trousers of im¬
mense capacity, his stiff embroidered jacket, and his trim tur¬
ban ; while his wife struts about in all the state of her tower¬
ing silver horn and flowing white veil. The Bedawy of
the desert is sans culottes, and his raiment consists of a
loose calico shirt, over which is occasionally thrown a
coarse cloak, and on his head is a gaudy kerchief, bound
with a twisted rope of camel’s hair. The city gentleman is
arrayed in flowing robes, yellow slippers, red over-shoes, and
turban of spotless white or embroidered Indian muslin.
The peasant of the plain of Damascus looks more active
in his gay-coloured spencer and short Turkish trousers.
The inhabitants of some of the villages of Palestine and
plains of Hamah seem to carry most of their wardrobe on
their heads; for the enormous turban is out of all propor¬
tion to the scanty shreds that cling round the body.
We may now glance at the several religious sects.
1. The Muslems. These are, and have been for many
centuries, the lords of the soil, and they constitute the great
majority of the community. They are proud, fanatical,
and illiterate. They are taught by the faith they hold to
look with contempt on all other classes, and to treat them
not merely as inferiors, but as slaves. They are in general
noble in bearing, polite in address, and profuse in hospi¬
tality ; but they are regardless of truth, dishonest in deal¬
ing, and immoral in conduct. In all large towns the greater
proportion, especially among the upper classes, are both
physically and mentally feeble, owing to the effects of
polygamy, early marriages, and degrading vices; but the
peasantry are robust and vigorous, and much might be
hoped for from them if they were brought under the in¬
fluence of liberal institutions, and if they had examples
around them of the industry and enterprise of Western
Europe. In religion the Muslems of Syria are Sonnites;
that is, in addition to the written word of the Koran, they
recognise the authority of the Sonna, a collection of tra¬
ditional sayings and anecdotes of the prophet, which is a
kind of supplement to the Koran, directing the right obser¬
vance of many things omitted in that book. They are in
general very exact in the observance of the outward rites
908
S Y K I A.
Syria.
of their religion ; and in Isl&m there is little else.. Their
great feast of Ramadan is kept by a vast majority with
scrupulous care; but it must be admitted that long absti¬
nence has not the effect of sweetening their temper or im¬
proving their morals.
Besides the Sonnites or orthodox Muslems, there are
three other sects which we must class under the common
name, Muslem.
The Metdivileh or followers of Aly, son-in-law of Mo¬
hammed. His predecessors on the throne, Abu-Bekr,
Omar, and Othman, they do not acknowledge as true
khalifs. Aly they maintain to be the lawful Imam, and
thev hold that the supreme authority, both in things spirit¬
ual and temporal, belongs of right to his descendants alone.
They reject the Sonna, and are allied in faith with the
Shiites of Persia. They are almost as scrupulous about
the “clean” and the “unclean” in their ceremonial obser¬
vances, and in the ordinary affairs of life, as the Hindoos.
They will neither eat nor drink with those of another faith,
nor will they use the ordinary drinking or cooking vessels
of others. The districts where they chiefly reside are Baal¬
bek; Belad Besharah, on the southern part of Lebanon; and
round the village of Hurmul, near the fountain of the
Orontes.
The Nusairiyeh or Ansairiyeh. It is not easy to tell
whether this sect is to be classed among Muslems or not.
Their religion still remains a secret, notwithstanding all
attempts recently made to dive into its mysteries. They
are represented by Asseman as holding a faith half Chris¬
tian and half Mohammedan. They believe in the transmi¬
gration of souls, and observe in a singular, if not idolatrous,
manner a few of the ceremonies common in the Eastern
Church. They are a wild and somewhat savage race,
given to plunder, and even bloodshed when their passions
are roused or suspicions excited. They inhabit that range
of mountains which bears their name, and which extends
from the banks of the Orontes at Antioch to the entrance
of Hamath.
The Ismaeliyeh, who inhabit a few villages on the east¬
ern slopes of the Ansairiyeh Mountains, resemble the former
in this, that their religion is a mystery. They were ori¬
ginally a subdivision of the Shiites, and are the feeble
remnant of a people too well known in the time of the
Crusades, under the name of Assassins. ^ They have still
their chief seat in the old castle of Masyad, on the moun¬
tains west of Hamath.
2. The Druzes. The Druzes form one of the strongest,
most united, and most remarkable sects in Syria. 1 heir
peculiar doctrines were first propagated in Egypt by the
notorious Hakim, the third of the Fatimite dynasty. This
khalif, who gave himself out for a prophet, though he acted
more like a madman, taught a system of half mateiialism, as¬
serting that the Deity resided in Aly. In the year a.d.
1017, a Persian of the sect of Batanis, called Mohammed
Ben-Ismail-ed-Derazy, settled in Egypt, and became a
devoted follower of Hakim. He not only asserted the ab¬
surd pretensions of the new Egyptian prophet, but he added
to his doctrines that of the transmigration of souls, which
he had brought with him from his native country ; and he
carried his fanaticism to such an extent that the people at
last rose in a body and drove him out of Egypt. He took
refuge in Wady-et-Teim, a narrow valley at the western
base of Hermon; and being secretly supplied with money
by the Egyptian monarch, propagated his dogmas, and be¬
came the founder of the Druzes. His system was enlarged,
and in some degree modified by other disciples of Hakim,
especially a Persian called Hamza, whom the Druzes still
venerate as the founder of their sect and the author of
their law. Hamza tried to gain over the Christians by
representing Hakim as the Messiah whose advent they ex¬
pected. Such was the origin of the Druze religion. Their
tenets, and especially their mode of worship, are still kept Syria,
strictly secret. A few of their books have found their -y—
way to the public libraries of Europe ; and it was the good^
fortune of the writer recently to obtain in Syria copies of
their seven standard works, which had been taken by a
Christian from one of their khulweh’s during the war of 1845.
Some of these works are written in a mystic style, unin¬
telligible to ordinary readers. Their Confession of Faith
seems to consist of the following propositions
(1.) The Unity of God, and his manifestations of him¬
self to man in the persons of seven individuals, the last of
whom was Hakim.
(2.) Five superior spiritual ministers always existing.
These have also appeared in the persons of men at various
periods. The chief of them were Hamza and Christ.
(3.) The transmigration of souls. The souls of men
never pass into animals.
(4.) The belief in a period when their religion shall be
triumphant,—Hakim shall reign, and all others shall be
subject to him for ever.
(5.) The seven points of Islam are set aside, and the
following substituted:—!. Veracity (to each other only).
2. Mutual protection and aid. 3. Renunciation of all other
religions (implying persecution of all others when practi¬
cable). 4. Profession of the unity of Hakim (as God).
5. Contentment with his works. 6. Submission to his will.
7. Separation from those in error and from demons. „
The Druzes are divided into two classes, the “ initiated”
and the “ uninitiated.” With the former all the rites and
ceremonies remain strictly secret. The holy books are
kept under their care. They have some ceremonies, or are
supposed to have some, which are less pure and spiritual
than those set forth in their creed. They assemble in their
chapels (khulwehs) every Thursday evening, refusing ad¬
mission to all others. What they do then and there is
unknown. A figure of a calf made of brass or other metal
has been found in their places of worship, and is supposed
by some to be an idol, but this they deny, and there can be
no doubt that their books do not seem to teach or favour
idolatry. Their places of worship are always in remote but
conspicuous spots, as if to secure privacy and effectually
guard against intrusion. On the whole, they seem to
be more a political than a religious body. I heir secret
meetings are for collecting and communicating information,
rather than for worship. The initiated are their chief
advisers both in peace and war. The whole country in
which they reside is divided into districts; each district has
its council of initiated assembling weekly ; a delegate from
each council appears at the meetings of the councils of
bordering districts to hear and to detail everything effecting
the Druze interests. The rapidity and accuracy with which
news is thus propagated is astonishing, and is of vast im¬
portance in time of war.
The Druzes are industrious and hospitable when at peace,
but in war they are noted for their daring ferocity. They
occupy the southern section of the ridge of Lebanon. I hey
also abound in villages on the eastern and western declivi¬
ties of Hermon and in Jebel-Hauran. There are a few in
Damascus, and in one or two villages near it. I heir
numbers may be estimated at about 80,000.
3. The Christians are divided into several sects, as fol¬
lows :—
The Greeks. They are called Greeks simply because
they profess the Greek faith, and belong to the Greek or
Oriental Church. They are Syrians both by birth and
descent; and there is not a trace either in their spoken lan¬
guage, or in the language of their ritual, of any national
affinity with the people of Greece. Their number has been
estimated at about 115,000. The Greek Church in Syria
is divided into the two patriarchites of Antioch and Jeru¬
salem. They are nominally indeoendent, but virtually
SYRIA.
909
Syria, under the control of the Patriarch of Constantinople. The
jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Antioch, who usually re¬
sides at Damascus, extends from Asia-Minor to Tyre, and
includes (in Syria) the eight bishoprics of Beyrout, Tri-
polis, Akkar, Laodicea, Hamah, Hums, Saidnaya, and Tyre.
The patriarchite of Jerusalem includes the whole of Pales¬
tine, and the country east of the Jordan. Its sees are
Nazareth, Acre, Lydda, Gaza, Sebaste, Nabulus, Phila¬
delphia, and Petra. The Greek Church enjoys the privi¬
lege of having its religious services conducted in the lan¬
guage of the people. It is unfortunate, however, that
nearly all the higher clergy are foreigners. They all look
to Russia as their natural protector; and Russian gold is
profusely expended in the decoration of their churches
and support of schools. The parish clergy must all be
married men; and most of them are selected from among
the lowest of the people, with no other fitness for the
sacred office than that which the ceremony of ordination
confers.
The Syrians or Jacobites, originally separated from the
Eastern Church on account of the Monophysite heresy.
Their head is the patriarch, who resides in Mesopotamia.
Their number is very small. The village of Sudud, south¬
east of Hums, on the borders of the desert, is their head¬
quarters. They are regarded by all the other sects as
heretics ; and because they are few and poor they are ge¬
nerally despised.
The Maronites. This sect originated during the Mono-
thelitic controversy of the seventh century. A monk called
John Maron was the apostle of this heresy among them,
and they consequently received his name. In the year
1180 they renounced Monothelitism, and submitted to the
authority of the Pope, since which time they have been
characterised by an almost unparalleled devotedness to the
see of Rome. In order to increase Romish influence among
them, a college was founded in that city by Gregory XIII.
for the education of a select number of their youth. The
two celebrated Oriental scholars and writers, J. S. and J.
A. Assemanns, were Maronites, trained in this college. It
is remarkable, however, that a church so devoted to the
papacy should deviate so far from the Latin ritual. Their
ecclesiastical language is Syriac ; they have their own dis¬
tinct church establishment; and every candidate for the
priesthood is permitted to marry before ordination.
The Maronites are found in small communities in all the
large towns from Aleppo to Nazareth ; but they are at home
in Lebanon. This mountain-range they inhabit more or less
throughout its whole extent; but their great stronghold is
the district of Kesrawan, east of Beyrout. Their patriarch,
who is their spiritual chief, is selected by the bishops, though
he receives the robe of investiture from Rome. The Maro¬
nites have a strange taste for the cloister. The number
of their convents is greater in proportion than that of any
other sect in Christendom. Their whole community does
not exceed 220,000 souls; and yet they have in Lebanon
alone 82 convents, containing above 2000 monks and nuns.
The Maronites are brave and industrious; and their na¬
tive mountains, though steep and rugged, are the garden
of Syria.
The Papal Schismatic Churches have sprung from the
missionary efforts of Romish priests and Jesuits during the
last two centuries. As the object was to gain partisans,
more pains were taken to obtain nominal submission to the
authority of the Pope than any real change of doctrine or
ritual. They still retain their Arabic service, their oriental
calendar, their communion in both kinds, and their married
clergy. Their spiritual chief takes the pompous title of
Patriarch of Antioch and all the East.” The community
numbers about 40,000.
4. The Jews. A sketch of the inhabitants of Syria and
Palestine would not be complete without a notice of the
Jews. In one sense they are the most interesting people
in the land. For eighteen centuries have they been driven
forth from the country of their fathers, and yet they cling
to its holy places still. They moisten the stones of Jeru¬
salem with their tears; her very dust is dear to them, and
their most earnest wish on earth is that their bodies should
mingle with it. The tombs that whiten the side of Olivet
tell a tale of mournful bereavement and undying affection
unparalleled in the world’s history. The Jews of Palestine
are all foreigners. They live almost exclusively in the four
holy cities, Jerusalem, Hebron, Tiberias, and Safet; and
their whole number does not exceed 9000.
Altogether different from these are the Jews of Damascus
and Aleppo. They are Arabs in habits and language, in
so far at least as religion will permit. Some of them are
men of great wealth and corresponding influence. For
generations they have been the bankers of the local chiefs,
and have often and fearfully realized all the strange fluctua¬
tions of Eastern life—now ruling a province, now gracing a
pillory; at one time all-powerful favourites, at another dis¬
graced and mutilated outcasts. Their number is about
15,000.
5. I he Turks. The Turks are few in number, strangers
in race and language, hated by every class, wanting in
physical power, destitute of moral principle, and yet they
are the despots of Syria. Those occupying the higher
government situations are all Turks. They obtain their
power by bribery, and they exercise it for extortion and
oppression. Their character has been ably sketched by
Hamilton : “ They are all ignorant and presumptuous, vain
and bigoted, proud without any feeling of honour, and
cringing without humility; they cannot resist the tempta¬
tion of money, or the prospective benefit of a lie. In their
government and administrative duties they are tyrannical
and overbearing, in their religious doctrines dogmatical and
intolerant, and in their fiscal measures mercenary and ar¬
bitrary. They are as ignorant of their own history as that
of other nations; and this is the case even with the better
educated, who are in most respects far inferior in character,
probity, and honour to the peasants and the lower classes.
As long as the Turk is poor, and removed from temptation,
he is honest; but no sooner is he appointed to office, or
obtains the management of public money, than his unedu¬
cated mind is unable to withstand the charm, and he be¬
comes a peculator and a thief. He appropriates to himself
whatever he can lay hands on, and oppresses those below
him; while, for the sake of securing his ill-gotten plunder,
he propitiates his superiors by bribery and adulation. This
has undoubtedly led to the demoralizing practice of the
Turkish government of selling all places to the highest
bidder, allowing him in return to make the most he can out
of the unprotected subjects by extortion and taxation.”
The Turkish rulers of Syria are here drawn to the life.
The country has been ruled for centuries by foreign tyrants,
who have no interest in either the soil or the people, save
that of grasping their whole available wealth. The Turks
have only been able to rule by the cruel policy of pitting
against each other the various rival sects and parties. The
results are patent—poverty, hatred, bigotry, and bloodshed.
A few places along the coast have latterly began to show
signs of new life, owing mainly to the enterprise of Euro¬
pean merchants, and the protection afforded to property by
the influence of European consuls. Beyrout shows what
Syria might become under a liberal and paternal govern¬
ment. The eastern border affords a marked contrast to the
western. Hundreds of towns and villages are there deserted
though not ruined, and every year adds to their number’
while tens of thousands of acres of the richest soil are aban¬
doned to the periodical raids of the Bedawin.
Syria, like Palestine, is emphatically a land of ruins. In Ruins,
some of her fairest provinces desolation reigns triumphant.
910
S Y 11 I A.
Syria. Many of her noblest cities are now heaps of rubbish; others,
though not ruined, are deserted. The silent streets and
empty houses, and lonely, desolate palaces and temples, of
the latter, are even more painfully, more terribly impressive
than the utter ruin of the former. The writer has seen in
the province of Hauran alone nearly one hundred towns and
laro-e villages, most of which contain from fifty to five hun¬
dred houses each, perfect in every part as if only built yes¬
terday, and yet there is not now, and history tells us there
has not been for centuries, a single man to dwell in them.
These houses are all of remote antiquity. Their walls, roofs,
doors, and window-shutters are of stone, and so massive
as almost to bid defiance to time. The names of a few of
them are known in history—such as Phasno, Batansea,
Kenath, Salcah, Philippopolis, Beth-Gamul (Porter’s Da¬
mascus, vol. ii.) In northern Syria there are also many
deserted cities, some of which are in a wonderful state of
preservation. In Jebel Siman, west of Aleppo; in Jebel-
el-Ala, on the east bank of the Orontes ; and again, around
El-Bara, farther southward, these ancient deserted towns are
found. (See Porter’s Handbook, pp. 609, 617, sq.)
Some of the ruins of Syria, in their massive proportions
and architectural splendour, rank among the finest in the
world. Baalbek may be said to stand unrivalled, its Cyclo¬
pean foundations containing stones from 60 to 70 feet long,
surmounted by temples finished in the highest style of
Grecian art. Palmyra, though less colossal and less pure
in style, is still more striking in the vast extent of its ruins.
The long colonnades of Apamea, the great tunnels and
docks of Seleucia, and the massive fortifications of Tyre and
Aradus, cannot fail to excite wonder and admiration. There
are, besides, in the ranges of Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon,
upwards of fifty temples more or less dilapidated ; and there
are some huge castles, such as those of Banias, Esh-Shukif,
Hunin, El-Husn, Aleppo, Damascus, Bozrah, and Salcah,
which prove that the old Syrians were masters in the science
of military architecture. Of the ancient great cities of Syria
no less than nine are now completely desolate namely,
Apamea, Laodicea-ad-Libanum, Seleucia Pieria, Orthosia,
Area, Chalcis, Phaeno, Bozrah, and Salcah; eight have
dwindled down to poor and miserable villages namely,
Heliopolis, Palmyra, Tyre, Aradus, Riblah, Gebal, Edrei,
and Kenath; Antioch, the capital in the age of Homan
splendour; Sydon, the ancient capital of Phoenicia; and
Hamath, One of the primeval strongholds of the Canaanites,
are now small decaying towns ; while Damascus alone, the
oldest city of Syria, of the world, still retains its ancient
prosperity.
History. The earliest notices of Syrian history are found in the
Bible, which is at once the most ancient and the most
authentic of all histories. In the 10th chapter of Genesis
there is a brief record of the colonization of the nations of
the world by the descendants of Noah. From this it ap¬
pears that Syria, by the nature of its first settlement, was
divided into two sections, which remained distinct for neatly
2000 years. The first section, embracing the whole
eastern division of the country, was peopled by the family
of Aram, Damascus being the metropolis, and probably the
nucleus of the colony. The second, or western division,
was colonized by the sons of Canaan—Sidon, Arka, and
Arvad—who settled on the coast and in the ridge of Le¬
banon ; and Hamath, who penetrated farther eastward than
his brethren. The next event in the history of Syria was
the advent of Abraham. A very early tradition represents
him as settling for a time at Damascus; and it is corro¬
borated by two facts,—"his steward was a native of that city,
and not far from Damascus there is still a sacred spot called
by the name of the Patriarch. For a period of nearly nine
centuries we have no records of Syrian history. In the
time of King David (b.C. 1040), Syria is represented as
consisting of a number of independent kingdoms, as Zobah,
Damascus, Maachah, and Geshur. Against these the Syria.
Jewish monarch waged war, and, being successful, placed
garrisons in their principal cities. After the death of David,
Syria regained its independence. Now, however, the king¬
dom of Damascus attained to such power as to be the re¬
cognized head of Syria. Under the warlike dynasty of the
Hadads it became the most influential kingdom in Western
Asia; and by frequent incursions into the territories of
Israel and Judah, and by the pillage of many of its cities
and villages, it terribly revenged the victories of David.
The watchful care and prophetic power of Elisha saved
Israel for a time from the fury of its foe, and brought upon
the armies of Benhadad unexpected calamities. About b.c.
892 Damascus was honoured by a visit from the prophet.
Benhadad was then sick, and his sufferings not only made
him overlook his old enmity to Elisha, but constrained him
to consult him as to his recovery. The man who was sent
on this errand was Hazael, whose guilty designs the pro¬
phet detected and exposed. His reply and subsequent
conduct were thoroughly characteristic of the wily and cruel
eastern, “ Is thy servant a dog that he should do this
thing?” he exclaimed ; and then turning away, he hastened
to Damascus and murdered his master! Thus terminated
the dynasty of Hadad, after a rule of more than 160 years.
Hazael succeeded to the throne, and proved both a wise
monarch and able general. Under him the armies of Syria
were victorious to the borders of Egypt. His successors
did not inherit his genius, and the power of Syria began to
decline. About B.c. 750 Rezin, the last independent ruler
of Svria, entered into an alliance with the king of Israel,
and waged w'ar against Judah. The latter, in its diffi¬
culties, sought aid from the powerful monarch of Assyria,
Tiglath-Pileser, who was not slow to give it. He marched
at once across the desert, overran Syria, took Damascus,
and carried the inhabitants captive to the banks of the
Kir. (2 Kings xvi.; Joseph. Antiq. ix. 12 ; Amos i. 4.)
Syria now became a mere dependency of a more power¬
ful empire, and was ruled by foreign satraps. It remained
a province of Assyria until, during the struggles of the
eastern monarchs, it was seized by Pharaoh-Necho, king of
Egypt. A few years afterwards it was captured by Nebuch¬
adnezzar (b.c. 604), and for a period of three centuries
continued subject to the Babylonian and Persian admin¬
istrations.
Immediately after the great battle of Issus (b.c. 333),
Syria passed into the hands of a different dynasty and a
different race. Alexander the Great became its ruler. He
assigned it to the general Laomedon, and Damascus be¬
came the seat of his short sway. After the death of Alex¬
ander, and the brief but fierce struggle of his lieutenants
over the fragments of his gigantic empire, the fortunes of
war threw Syria into the power of Seleucus Nicator, the
founder of the dynasty of the Seleucidce. This prince built
Antioch, and made it the seat of his government. He and
his successors on the throne may justly be termed a race of
architects. They not only adorned their capital with struc¬
tures which rivalled in splendour the noblest monuments
of Greece; but they founded many other great cities in
various parts of the country. Though almost:constantly at
war, their kingdom was for nearly 200 years one of the
most prosperous in the world. From the commencement
of the reign of the Seleucidse, till the year B.C. 114, Antioch
remained undisputed capital. At this time the kingdom
was rent by the intrigues of Ptolemy Physcon; and An-
tiochus Cyzicenus, brother of the reigning monarch, estab¬
lished a new sovereignty at Damascus. Just half a century
later the Roman army under Pompey overran Syria, abo¬
lished the dynasty of the Seleucidse, and established* their
head-quarters at Damascus. Syria was immediately an-*
nexed to the Roman empire, and placed under the com¬
mand of Scaurus, Pompey’s lieutenant. For many years
SYRIA.
Syria, after the conquest, the country was the scene pf devastating
wars, arising partly from the feuds of petty princes, and
partly from the rivalries of Roman governors. After the
triumph of Augustus, Mesalla Corvinus was appointed pre¬
fect, and henceforth the seat of government was fixed at
Antioch.
In the year a.d. 105, Cornelius Palma, the governor of
Syria under the emperor Trajan, conquered the region east
of the Jordan, and the neighbouring kingdom of Aretas.
From this time the various provinces of Syria began to
recruit under the secure and paternal government of Rome.
Temples, theatres, palaces, and public monuments of great
extent and splendour, were erected not only in the chief
cities, but in every little provincial town ; and their remains
even yet, after long centuries of desolation, bear ample
testimony to the genius, the wealth, and the taste of the old
Syrians. Roads also were constructed, bridges were built,
and costly harbours formed. The country remained under
Roman and Byzantine rule till a.d. 634. The only cir¬
cumstances that occurred previous to that period, and which
are deserving of notice in a brief sketch like the present,
are the establishment of Christianity under the first Con¬
stantine, and the conquests of the Persians early in the
seventh century. Christianity had spread widely over the
land before its establishment as the religion of the empire ;
and the numbers, the wealth, and the taste of the Christians
subsequent to that period may still, to some extent, be esti¬
mated by the splendid ruins of sacred edifices in the cities,
towns, and villages of Syria.
The Arabs, under the generals Khaled and Abu Obeidah,
first invaded Syria in a.d. 633; and only five years after¬
wards the whole country was conquered, and every city in
it garrisoned by their troops. In sixteen years more Da¬
mascus became the capital of the vast Mohammedan empire.
Syria was then densely populated. Her cities scarcely
yielded to any in the world in extent, wealth, and architec¬
tural magnificence ; but under the withering influence of Is-
lamism their grandeur faded, and their wealth was consumed.
In a.d. 750 the dynasty of the Abassides was founded,
and the khalifite was removed from Damascus, first to Cufa
.and then to Baghdad. Henceforth Syria was a province
of the Mohammedan empire. From this period till the
middle of the tenth century it was subject to the Khalifs
of Baghdad, but it then fell into the hands of the Fati-
mite dynasty of Egypt. Towards the close of the follow¬
ing century the country was invaded by the Seljukian
Turks, and formed into a division of their empire. The
cruelties perpetrated by these fanatics on the poor Chris¬
tian pilgrims that thronged yearly to Jerusalem roused the
spirit of western Europe, and excited Christian nations to
the first Crusade. In a short time the knights of France
and England, headed by Godfrey, were winding through
the valleys and marching over the plains of Syria. The
fierce, undisciplined followers of the false prophet could not
withstand their steady valour. The country was subdued,
Jerusalem was taken by storm, and the cruelties perpe¬
trated on Christian pilgrims were fearfully avenged.
Godfrey was elected first Christian king of Jerusalem.
Bohemund reigned at Antioch; Baldwin, Godfrey’s brother,
at Edessa ; and the Count of Toulouse at Tripolis. Thus
was the country divided into Christian principalities, and
ruled by the bravest knights of western Europe. Damascus,
however, withstood every assault of the Crusaders ; and it
is still the boast of the proud Muslem, that its sacred pre¬
cincts have never been polluted by the feet of an infidel
since the dav the soldiers of Mohammed first entered it.
About the middle of the twelfth century Nur-ed-Din, a
Tartar chief, seized Damascus and some neighbouring cities.
He ruled his acquired territory with justice and vigour.
At the request of the Fatimite Khalif, he attacked and de¬
feated the Crusaders on the borders of Egypt. His suc¬
cessor, Saladin, was by far the most formidable opponent
the Crusaders ever encountered. After gaining a decisive
victory over their united forces at Hattin, near Tiberias,
he captured Jerusalem (a.d. 1187), and drove the Franks
out of almost every town and fortress of Palestine. Soon
afterwards Syria was invaded by the shepherd-soldiers of
Tartary, under Holagou, the grandson of Gengis Khan.
But, after the death of this chief, Bibars, better known in
Arabian history as Melek-edh-Dhaher, brought Syria under
the rule of Egypt, and pursued the Tartars beyond the
Euphrates. His victories were fatal to the declining power
of the Crusaders. Their remaining history is one con¬
tinued tale of misfortunes. At length, in a.d. 1291, Acre
was taken, and the Christian knights driven from the shores
of Syria.
For more than two centuries after this period the country
was the theatre of fierce contests between the hordes of
Tartary and the Mamluke rulers of Egypt. Timur, or
Tamerlane, invaded Syria in a.d. 1401, and committed
the most fearful ravages. Antioch, Emesa, Baalbek, and
Damascus were reduced to ashes, and their unfortunate in¬
habitants either murdered or sold into slavery.
In the year 1517 Syria was conquered by the Sultan
Selim I., and from that time till the present day it has
formed part of the Ottoman empire. During this period,
though the country has been visited by few striking vicissi¬
tudes, it has steadily declined in power, wealth, and popula¬
tion. The greater partof the inhabitants, oppressed by foreign
rulers who take no interest in commerce or agriculture, have
sunk into helpless and almost hopeless slavery. What little
energy and spirit remain are exhausted in private quarrels
and party feuds, which are sedulously fostered by their un¬
principled rulers. In 1832 Ibrahim Pasha conquered Syria
for his father, Mohammed Aly. The iron rule of that
wonderful man did much to break down the fanaticism
which for ages has been a curse to the people. He pro¬
moted industry, he suppressed the robber bands which in¬
fested the leading roads, and he drove the Arab tribes from
the eastern borders to the interior of their native deserts,
and even there he taught them to fear and obey him.
Though the whole population groaned under his yoke, yet
it may be truly said that he was the only real ruler Syria
had for centuries. In the year 1841, through the armed
intervention of England, the country was restored to the
Porte.
The long history of Syria may thus be divided into six
periods; and it is remarkable that, during each period, a
distinct section of the human family has had rule over it.
During the first period, of about 1450 years, it was inde¬
pendent under its native princes. During the second period,
of 417 years, the Babylonian and Persian monarchs held it.
During the third period of 268 years, it was subject to the
Greek dynasty of the Seleucidse. During the fourth period,
of 699 years, the Romans possessed it. During the fifth
period, of 441 years, it was desolated rather than governed
by the Saracens or Arabs. It then fell into the hands of
the Tartar or Turkish tribes, who still retain it. But their
power is rapidly declining. The throne founded by Oth-
man is tottering to its fall; and the sixth period of Syrian
history is fast drawing to a close. (j. l. p.)
912 SYS
Systyle SYSTYLE. See Architecture, Glossary to.
II SYZRAN, a town of European Russia, government and
Szegedin. 73 miles S. of Simbirsk, on a hill at the confluence of the
Syzran with the Volga. It is meanly built, and has un¬
paved streets. There are here ten churches, two of which are
of wood; a monastery ; an important cattle market; manu¬
factories of soap and leather, and an active trade. Pop.
15,400.
SYZYGY. See Astronomy.
SZALONTA, a market-town of Hungary, in the county
of South Bihar, 50 miles S.S.W. of Margitta. It contains
a church; and has an active trade in cattle and swine.
Pop. 9500.
SZARRAS, a market-town of Hungary, in the county
of Bekes, 13 miles N.N.W. of Gyulla, in a plain near
the river Koros. It has two churches; a Protestant gym¬
nasium, and a trade in corn and cattle. Pop. 17,000.
SZASZ REGEN, or Saxon Reen, a market-town of
the Austrian empire, Transylvania, on the Maros, in the
circle and 25 miles S. of Bistritz. Weaving, tanning, and
coopering are carried on here; as well as a considerable
trade in planks, shingles, and onions. In the vicinity stands
the fine ducal palace of Gernyeszeg. Pop. 4140.
SZATHMAR, or Szathmar-Nemeti, a free town of
Hungary, capital of a county of the same name, on the
Samos, 69 miles E.N.E. of Grosswardein, and about 60 E.
of Pesth. It consists properly of two towns, Szamos and
Nemeti, on opposite sides of the river, but united under the
same municipal government. It is for the most part ill built;
but contains a number of public buildings. It is the seat
of a bishop ; has Protestant and Roman Catholics churches;
an Episcopal lyceum ; theological seminary; Catholic and
Protestant gymnasiums, and other schools. Linen cloth,
earthenware, and plum brandy are made here ; wine and
fruit are raised in the vicinity. Pop. 10,552.
SZEGEDIN, a town of the Austrian empire, Hungary,
capital of the county of Csongrad, on the right bank of the
Theiss, 60 miles W. of Arad, and 89 S.S.E. of Pesth. 1 he
river is here crossed by a bridge of boats, leading to the
suburb of New Szegedin on the other side. The town is
defended by an old fortress, built by the Turks in the
s z o
beginning of the sixteenth century, containing barracks Szenta
and a house of correction. There are also six Roman ||
Catholic churches, one of them a fine Gothic building ; a Szolnok
handsome Greek church ; a Piarist college, with a gymna-
sium ; a school of industry and trade ; and a Hungarian
national theatre, Cloth, tobacco, soda, and soap are made
here ; and vessels for the navigation of the Theiss are built.
An important trade is carried on ; and annual cattle fairs
are held. Pop. 50,244.
SZENTA, or Zenta, a town of Hungary, in the county
of Zombor, on the right bank of the Theiss, 10 miles S. of
Kis-Kamsa, and 42 E.N.E. of Zombor. It contains two
churches; has an important fishery in the river; and an
extensive trade in cattle. Szenta is historically memorable
for a victory gained over the Turks here by Prince Eugene,
September 11, 1696, the anniversary of which is still cele¬
brated here. Pop. 14,985.
SZENTES, a market-town of Hungary, in the county
of Csongrad, on the Kurcza, 29 miles N.N.E. of Szegedin.
It is well built; and has a town-house, five churches of
different sects, a Latin school, and a trade in corn, wine,
timber, and cattle. Pop. 22,150.
SZEXARD, or Szegszard, a market-town of Hungary,
capital of the county of Tolna, on the Sarvitz, not far from
the Danube, 81 miles S.W. of Pesth. It is defended by
dykes from the inundations of the Danube, and is generally
well-built, having Protestant and Roman Catholic churches,
a high school, a large silk mill, and a considerable trade,
especially in wine. Pop. 10,500.
SZIGETH, a market-town of Hungary, capital of the
county of Marmaros, on the Theiss, 221 miles E.N.E. of
Pesth. It has Protestant and Roman Catholic churches;
two gymnasiums, and a Piarist college, large salt-works,
and a trade in salt. Pop. 6300.
SZOLNOK, a market-town of Hungary, capital of a
county of the same, on the Theiss, at its confluence with
the Zagyra, in the midst of marshes, 29 miles S. by W. of
Heves, and 49 S.E. of Pesth. It has the remains of an old
cathedral; a church; an old Turkish mosque, now a chapel;
a gymnasium; court oflaw; and extensive salt-works. 4 here
is an active trade in salt, timber, fruit, and fish. Pop. 10,617.
END OF VOLUME TWENTIETH.
FEINTED BY NEILL AND CO., OLD FISHMAEKET, EDINBURGH.
SHIPBUILDING.
'-"///(■}■ or r/o' Sevw£een/fi. / ooOonfrom. Van Yk.
Publisiied. Vy K.h. C.Black, Edinburgh.
VOL. XX
>
Th& Sovereign of the Sens. _ biuft 1637. FroTn nFairf/ig fy VanJrveIJn.
PuMisled ’ty"A.& C.Black.Edmburgli.
I
VOL.XK.
?>y. s,v. iy. lxj LV- 2y: s.v.
BODY PLAN
SHIP B
Draught of the Wooden CLIPPER SHIP SCR
Principal
Length between the Perp
Length of Keel
BreaLLth Extreme
BreaELth of Frame
Depth of Hold
Burthen in Tons, Braider'
ready for Sent without ocuxjq
I'ublmh.ed. bv A. k
JILDING.
MBER(r \ Built hy Mess''” A.Hall Sc C° of Aberdeen,.
iculars
Hmensions.
Feet In1.
262 " 6
  245
45 „
 42
 29 "9
Hd Measurement, 2600 Tons
MIDSHIP SECTION
FLAX
Blatk. i dinirurgb
VOL
SHIP BUI
BODY PLAN
DRAUGHT of tee IR OJST CLIPPRR PAIL
D intensions
ft for
Length between; Perpendiculars 185 " 0
Breadth extreme   29 " 0
Depth, in. Hold,   18 " O
Builders, Scott & C?, Greenock,.
PLA TE TV
SHIP BI
VOL. XX.
THE ENGLISH SAILI.
By J. Scott h
PLAN OF HORIZONTAL WA
Scale, 8 Inch i
tsE
To
55
Pabis-hfid. iy-A..
TITAJYIA ”
PLATE V.
[ L DI \ (i.
G YACHT
rr
sseU F.R.S.
. Fool
r 55 (jO <15 70 zS liU  90 95
piaxi,' Edi ni> a
Gr.Axkman, sc-EdinT
'
G-.A.ikmaro so.. EdinI
VOL. XX
S fi I P B I
DRAUGHT OF THE PADDLE H
Belonyuicj to the Pen.'k (K
BODY PLAN.
PriacipaL D i m e n s t o n_s
V.efKjth between Lerpencliculccrs
Do of keel for fonnage
Breadth for Tonnage.
Depth in Midships (from top of l
Burthen in tons W°. ‘ 1909 fi
Morses power (nominal) TOO.
Builders of ihe Ship Thames Iron
Makers o f the Machinery J.Peru
HALF BRFA
Piibliskel"by A.& C Black, ]
1 r H PLAN.
ji iturgli.
G-AHancfn- So. fetin'1.
VOL. XX.
Dimensions of the Hall.
ft. in.
S H I P j
"GREAT EAST]
Length from, centre of rudder-post to stem 680 0
Length on the Upper-deck 692 0
Breadth of Sail 82 6
Breadth over the faddle boxes 119 0
Height to wider side of Upper-deck 58 2
Tonnage of Ship, Builders’ old measurement 24,360 tons
Displacement at 30 feet Draught 21,000 tons
Water line at zo fefit rirnnqhl
/ MorizoninI g Water lines^
200
225
250
275
300
325
i:
rrmr
blish-eil Iry A_.Sc C.3Iaclr, Siml)Tirg]i.
G-.Jtikmati Sc,
PLATE VIII.
DLniensions of the Machinery.
ft. in.
Diameter of the Screw propeller 24- 0
Diameter of Paddle wheels to outside of iron 56 10
Nominal Dorse-power of Screw engines 1600 horses
D?  D? Paddle engines 1000
Total Horse power nominal )  2600
P K O I- I L E .
'Vertical SectionsJ /i
0 375 • 100 425 450 475 500 525 550 575 600 625 650 675
J I L D I N G.
Rust” steam ship.
V
WL.XX.
SHIP BUILDING.
PLATE
IX.
GREAT EASTERN" STEAM SUER.
60 feet
55
50
4-5
A-O
35
30
25
-- 20
- 15
--lO
U- o
SCALE OF DISPLACEMENT,
Assuming 35 Cub. feet of Salt, water to a ton .
S II I P B
' VOL. XX.
DRAUGHT OF THE SCREW STEAM
Sc a_Ie of D
1500 2000
Dimeusioxis
y t in,
Length, of Keel mu! fore vake   318 0
Breadth of Beam (Extreme) 4*0 0
Depth of Bold to Spar deck, 26 O
Tannage, Builders ’ old, measurement, 2500 Tons
Horses’Bower, nominal, 700 Horses
Builders of Ship, and Machinery, McssrsCaird & C? of Greenock
HALF BRE
I)
-Published-Try A.&
VOL. XT
BODY PLAY
SHIP BULL]I
DRAUGHT OF THE SCREW Si
Belonging to the Fen. & Orienta. ‘t
Principal Dimensions.
t
Length between Ferpendicnlars 3t
I)? of Keeb for Tonnage Z.
Breadth for Tonnage   4
Depth in Midships t frone top of Keel )
Burthen in Tons M°s 3622 O.M.
Builders of the Ship, Mare & C?
Makei's of the Machineryj G. & J. Rennie .
SHEER ?LA
HALE BREADTH PLA
PabJish-el by A..Sc C. Blafik, H ^
(t. Aihmarv sc. Ed in
VOL.XX.
SHIP B
DRAUGHT OF THE SCR
BELONGING TO THE PENINSULAR
Dimensions.
Length/ over all
for tonnape
BreaL/L/o for tonruzpe
Depths of Holds froms cefHnp to spar decf
Torvnape - Builders old measjmement (tons).
Load Drnccuphst of water'
Displacement at Had - draaie/hl: (torts .)
Area, of midship sections at 18ft lOin (sq. ft). 57)0.0
Horses-power fnominsad) fhorses)... fdO , 0
Braider of the Ship Johns Laird. Birkenhead.
Makers of the Machiner y-. Fawcett Fhestorv Sc C?
ft. in..
320.. 0
292 ., 2
39 ■■ 5)
27 .. 9
2221.. it
18 10
2808 0
tons o i
Scale of
3 4- 500 6 7 8 9 A000
Published hyA.k ( L
VOL. XX
SHIP
BODY PLAK.
4- W.£.
3
2
1
BU
DRAUGHT OF THE IRON SCR
Belonguuj to the Pert. Sc 0
PimensxoiLS
Leruft/i between perpen Men betrs
Bre/xdth e.rtre/ne
Depth amidships (from top of feet)
Burthen in tons JY0S 2373 A. B.M.
Horses pofrer (nominal) -foO.
Builders of the Ship. Sitmuda Sc C?.
Mahers of the Machinery, Humphrys (Ten
SHEER
TuMiskel bv A.& C Black, T n
PLATE
ILimVG.
XIII.
m STEAM SEW "CEYLON
)r
’ntal
Steam
Now
C°
eet
90 .
II.
29.
mt a.
Scale of Displacement
■ -
190
200 210
220 230 240 250 260 270 280   290 It
-L- , l 1 , . . .i , .. ...i L—. 1 I=Z==Il|
    I
l
l
i'll FLAN
i
;1i nirgii.
0./HJ{,tnt.rn Sc.Edin
Feet 10
VOL. XX
VOL XX
SHIP BUILDING.
"CEYLON’.’ . plate xlv.
DraziglvC of Inboard/ Works.
G.Aihnun sc- JSdccnf.
i . •
I ^ik||
Elmburgb., ftMisliML ty A. & C. Blaik
•V
IK. IS HD I© IS E 3K..
Pabii slie 1 "byA- & C. Slack. EimTraxgli.
IOL. XX. s H O O T 1 N G. PLATE XYI.
M
InblislLed.'by^.fc C.BlELck, Udinbux^
p
STEAM EAGIAE
FLA TK Xm
YOL.XX
W.A.B eever. So.
Published ty A. & C. BUjck, EJtrrhurah.
VO L XX
STEAM EAGIAE
CONDENSING BEAM-ENGINES, 200 H . P. — SAL TAIB.E .
PLATE XIX
PLATE XX
VOL .XX
STEAM EAGAAE.
CONDKNSIXG BEAM EXG1NLS.
Saltaire Cross Section.
TuZUsJiA* bjA.Sc C. B lach, Edinburc/lv.
GrAiXmcuv so.
/fi/jh Pressure* Engine use// at the Liverpool Pmlway Station.
\
VOL.XX
STEAM ENGINE
PLATE XX/JJ
Horizontal Condensing Engine/.
Horizontal Compound Engine.
FubtithetL by A. lb C. Blcuckj ,EdiibbmgJv .
W.A. BerY'T,
VOL. XX
STE
PUMPING- ENGINE ."VICTORIA". EAST LONDON WATERWORKS.
S('A-tionnl Ehivatinn of the Engine & the Engine-house.
Scale of Feet.
Published, by A. < K
-ACTING
SINGLE
TOZ.XX.
STEAM
TO mCH DIRECT ACTION Pill
In chef. Inliiliiiiij
I\iblLshed/ by A.h
i^GriXE
i'lNG ENGINE
PLATE. XXV
CAMP DEN BILL
L ong UAuJinaJ Section of Bo flers
EnA, Views of Boilers
G. Ai Icruari
Black., Edinburgh
■*
PuhUsfaids by A.8c C. Blacky, Edinburgh.
W.AJieei'er. So.
Ci/Under
with
■ 'iteamjacket
in ten
Smokeho.v.
AGRICULTURAL
LO C O M O LIVE E NGI NE S.
STEAM ENGINE
FLATE XXVII
# *
Erutime/
VOL. XX
of they
arranq ement.
Transverse/
Sectiorb.
Tublished by A. A- C. Black, Edinburgh-.
J^ubUshed by A. & 0. Blade-, EdinbvraB.
Published hy'A.&C Black, Edinburgh,
Scale yi trick — 1 Foot
Piiblish-edbyA&C. Black, EditiburglL
Published; by A. C .Blxxeh, Edinburgh.
Published by A. &C. Black,, Edinburgh.
<!
<1
§
s
Q)
Jkiblijh&L by A. & C. Black, Edinburgh, .
-Published, hy A .Sc G.JBlictslc.EcLLnburqh. .
SIDE ELEVATION
Publish^! by _A. & C. Bhtck, PdjTibu.rpJv
PnJjhsiuyl by A. <?• ('. Blade, Edinburgh..
VOL . XX
ot
VOL. XX
STEAM NAVIGATION.
STEAM SHIP DELTA
of. 1618 Tons and 400Horse Power. Propelled ip Paddle-wheels.
FLATS uxvm
! ~ Length
Breadth/
Depth
Scale /de inch =1 loot
Edinburgh., Publislied. "by A. ic C. Blade.
Gr.ADarwjL sc.JLdccnT.
~ V
A
VOL. XX
S TENO GR APHY.
PL ATE XXXIX
1
L
I K
G
T
D
CH
J
P
V B
SH
ZH
S
Z
\ th
TH
F
V
/
/
\
\
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(
(
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A
L Kook
7d c_
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tl f
dl f
dd X
Jl x
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bl \
shl J
thi c
thl C
fl A
vl A
S IN
R Honk
ler c—
qr
tr A
dr 1
chr A
x- /
pr \
hr \
shr L
down
zhr A
GLE AXD DOUBLE
R Hook HaHZetufth
thr y
tkr °)
fr ^
vr ^
Im —
gn —
tri J
dr J
cluv H
jn y
pn \
bn \
shn J X
down, Tip
zhn J
sn <)
zn <)
thji (j
thn C
fh. A
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7ct —
gd —
tt l
dd I
i cht /
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pt \
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sht J
zhd. J
st )
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tht (
Aid (
ft L
vd L
A
S
A
/
up
X
A
down up
up down
up
bn XX
up down
m A
m VJ
yn X
wn A
bnt yy
up down
mt
mt r
ynd C
wnd A
wrui ^
wmn cr-3
win X
wrro </*
nm
mm <r^>
mpn ^
CONSONANTS.
N Hook Half length
NT or:'
ngn ^ ngnd
nn rmt
nm mnt
Half Length Half Length
T D ^
wnni
wrnn t c->
wind c
up
wmt
Tip
nrnt ^
mmt <r-=
nzpnd -5
nt v-
mt —
* /
up ardown
vt 'A
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hd 1
down
wnd
wmt
wbt <t
up
wrt <e-
up
nrt ^
rnzt c-'
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md ^
LI gy
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yld
wnd o-
wmd ^
up
wrd /
up
nrd
mrd
V O'VUE L S
SHORT.
w ^ ^
a n i o m oo
am., dl, ?11, dive, 7/p, f«7t.
DIPHTHONGS.
LONG.
adi eh ee aw d do
r/lias, ale, ed, all, ape, faad.
TRIPHTHONG.
GRAM MALO GUE S .
(Words marked^-) are written above the line, and words marked (4-) throughfas line.)
/
c
A or an* | A
according d
adranta/je
of tor*
ei 1 OW I
isle, ow\.
cu I
ay,
ox I
otL,
Wh i
wine.
DOUBLE LETTERS.
Y Series.
yd ye yi yd ya yoo
1 “I J 1 H J
vam, vet, lyi.) yui\,youn£, /vnite
vah yeh yee yaw yd ybo
'rii | i A rti i
I I J I I nl
iyahL yea, yeyawn, yoke, you.
W S erie s.
A
i
\
wo we wi wo wn woo
cl 'I J 1 >1 >1
wag, wet, wit, was, won, wood.
wah weh wee wow wo m oo
cl c| c| ’I 4 3|
y/alm, way, we, wall, wake, woo.
co™.
corttr 1
O
far
urvb **'
ro
self
PREFIXES.
J‘ contatrv
^ contribute
VU] forget
interview
o!
A selfish
AFFIXES
iruj
imps
by
self
ship
/ \
—y going
j, doings, Actclvng:
b ear only
fa v ours elt
stewardship
i
/
V
ago*
alb *
art*
andt (up)
are
as*
at *
Becazxse?
been
but
by*
Cold*
can*
cannot *
come-
caidd
Did
diHiadty
do
done
dach i.
ever *
V
A
/
A
/
A
'A
every, vety
First
for
from
General ’
qive-n
go*
God *
good
great
Had*
have
he
how
however g
IX
immediate
. (*
tmportan^
improve-d
-ment
in *
is
it
Lord
language
He
\ : mernhe,
/
\
\
y
/
)<
°\
(
Mr*
mjjre
much*
my*
Ho
nor *
not*
Of*
on*
one
opinion
oppoitunitv
or
other y
oury
outy
Particular
Phonograph
Fetid *
pr. tense,
remember-ed
Shall.shalt
short*
should
i up I
so
spirit
That *
)
A
)
)
I
the
their', there
them
fhtng
think
to
too
truth
two
Unde*'
up
upon
us y
Was'
were,where
what *
when*
which
who
will
with *
without
wordy
would,
year *
your
W.A. Pea er. Sc.
Published by A.k C. Black, Edinburgh .
YOL XX
STEXO GR APH Y.
PLATE XL'.
JlCTS ChapXXVI.
(Written in an Easy Style/with Few Grannaalogaes.)
■i t n -r ^ v, t ^ s t k
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